The Torry Cottage
Port Martha, Talsiny

With large brown eyes brimming with tears, Zacharie Torry admitted his fear in a soft voice. ?Mama, je suis effray?.?

?milie Torry ushered her son into the pantry of their cottage before bending down to smile at him through her own tears. ?Je suis effray? aussi, Zacharie. Tu dois ?tre braves.?

With her at a crouch, Zacharie was just tall enough to look over her shoulder at the trio of thick thugs that had burst into their seaside cottage mere minutes earlier. The grave danger was not lost on his young mind. ?Tu blesses-ils??

Her smile faltered as she gently rubbed her son?s shortly shorn hair. She did not have the heart to answer the question. What words should be spoken to one?s son before one is about to meet an untimely end? How could she impart all the wisdom she had wished to teach him in these short precious seconds? What lasting memory should she leave with the boy she was leaving an orphan?

?Hurry up!? A voice behind her demanded impatiently. There was guilt in his tone. Watching the young mother say her final goodbyes to her son seemed to be proving more than one of them could stand. It would not help her. Even if he could not finish the job there were two more willing to complete the task they had been assigned.

?Restes dedans ici jusqu?? ce que les hommes soient all?s. Ne me regardes pas. Apr?s, qu?ils partent, tu vas ? Madame Fairbairn. Ruke et Charlie viendront. Vous serez s?r. Tu comprends??

The young child?s bottom lip trembled but he nodded, reminding himself to be brave. ?Oui, Mama.?

?milie?s lips upturned in her natural, sweet smile. It would be her last and she could think of no one better to bestow it upon. ?Il ?tait un petit navire. Qui n?avait ja-ja-jamais navigu?,? she began to sing in a soft, gentle tone.

The sound of his mother singing his favorite nursery rhyme was a piece of comfort that Zacharie could not pass up. A nod from her was all he needed to join in. ?Oh? oh? oh? oh? matelot. Matelot navigue sur les flots. Oh? oh? oh? oh? matelot. Matelot navigue sure les flots.?

Pressing the lightest of kisses against the boy?s forehead, the young woman rose to her full height. ?Tu ne cesses pas le chant. Je veux entrendre dans le ciel.?

?Il entreprit un long voyage sur la mer M?diterran?e. Au bout de cinq ? six semaines les vivres vin-vin-vinrent ? mang?,? Zacharie continued on as his mother shut the door to the pantry. Her angelic smile was the last thing he saw before he was enveloped into darkness.

One of the men yelled that word. Witch. The word that was always whispered despairingly behind his mother?s back as they bought groceries in the market or ribbon in one of the dress shops in town. The word made a mixture of fear and disgust pass over the townspeoples' faces. The word made his mother cringe and shake her head in sadness.

Zacharie brought his hands up tightly over his ears and shut his eyes as if to further drown out the sound. He continued his song in a faltering voice. ?On tira-z-? la courte paille pour savoir qui-qui-qui serait mange. Le sort tomba sur le plus jeune bien qu?il ne f?t pas tr?s ?pais. On cherche alors ? quelle sauce la pauvre enfant-fant-fant serait mange. L?un voulait qu?on le m?t ? frire. L?autre voulait-lait-lait le fricasser.?

Despite all his precautions, he still heard her scream. She cried out in fright. The men all laughed. Zacharie sung louder still.

?Pendant qu?ainsi on d?lib?re il monta sur sur sur le grand hunier. Il fit au ciel une pri?re interrogeant-geant-geant l?immensit?.?

And then there was a great crash and she gave an unearthly scream. Thankfully, the sound of her body thudding against the floor was drowned out by his singing. The men?s boots echoed as they filed out.

?O sainte Vierge, ?ma patronne, emp?chez-les les les de me manger. Au m?me instant un grand miracle pour l?enfant fut fut realize. Des p?tits poissons dans le navire saut?rent bien-bien-bient?t par milliers. On les prit, on les mit ? frire.?

Silence. Zacharie?s hands fell from his ears. He reached a hand up for the knob of the pantry and twisted the cold metal in his hands. Hesitantly he stepped out into the familiar kitchen. It still smelled the same. It still looked the same. But it would never be the same again. He crept through the kitchen towards but he did not get far.

There she was.

Her mouth was opened in a wordless scream. Her caring brown eyes were still open but no longer caring, no longer living. They were empty of life, empty of her soul. The full scale of death could not be comprehended by his young mind.

Zacharie crept closer with his hands on his knobby knees.

She did not move. Her blood had already made a sizeable pool on the floor. Her hands were covering a gaping wound to her chest. His bottom lip trembled. He must be brave. He must not cry. He must be brave. He dropped into a crouch and brushed her shaggy bangs away from her face.

He must find Madame Fairbairn as she had insisted. Madame Fairbairn would send for Ruke and Charlie. He would be safe with them. She told him not to look at her but that was an order he could not follow. He must say his goodbye. One final time, he pressed his lips to her forehead and he softly sang her favorite line of the song.

?Et le p?tit mou-mou-mousse fut sauv?.?

Old Temple District, RhyDin
Home of Charlotte "Charlie" Nausikaa

Like a fallen angel, Charlie laid sprawled out on the cool tile of her bathroom floor with her golden blonde locks splayed about around her head as her busted halo. Her green eyes stared up at a spider that had spun its home in the corner from ceiling to wall. He had called that nook home long enough to have earned a name. Leroy. Leroy the Spider. She didn't have the heart to kill him or to even remove him from her home.

Without warning, the self-inflicted mental assault began anew just as it always did.

"Charlie, I had an accident." PJ's voice.

"Anubis came out of nowhere." Erin's voice.

"I'm sorry. Tareth was just here. I tried to stop him." Koy's voice.

"I'm leaving town, Charlotte. Just as you wanted." Gavin's voice.

They all echoed in her head, rattling from corner to corner, pressing out any other thoughts until they nauseated her with their pressure. PJ had to be taken care of so that her body had time to heal. Erin had to be protected from the Opal-emboldened slaver and, Lord, how quickly she had come to love Erin just as fiercly as the other women! The memory of Tareth and whatever it was that they had shared must be forgotten. Gavin's motives had to be figured out. Had her mind allowed her to concentrate on any one of those for any amount of time perhaps she could figure out a solution. However, just as she attempted to nail down a single issue in order to deal with it appropriately, the others would swarm at her.

Pushing herself into a sitting position on the floor, Charlie's gaze was drawn from the ceiling to the syringe in her hands. The ability to concentrate was only an injection away. How important was sobriety after all? Two months clean was probably her limit. Wasn't everyone expecting her to fail now that Tareth had made it clear that they were over? Not a soul would be surprised. In fact, those closest to her were probably expecting it to the degree that they would not even be disappointed. How could she be expected to do her job, to be the "Gatekeeper" of DoD without some sort of assistance?

Then what was stopping her?

A knock on the bathroom door pulled her free of the internal debate. She did not respond. Perhaps if she simply ignored it, the person on the other side of the bathroom door would just go away. There was a moment of silence and then the knocking began again.

"Unless PJ's up, go away."

Charlie's over-eager personal assistant responded from the other side of the closed door in a hesitant, quiet tone. "PJ's alseep still but... uh... there's something I think you should see out here."

With a deep exhale of frustration, the still full syringe was dropped to the intircate pattern of bathroom tiles and she rose to her feet. The bathroom door was swung open and the girl recieved a heart-stopping glare. "This better be important, Katie."

Katie had no verbal response. It was the typical reaction to such a glare from Charlie. Katie merely lifted a hand to point towards the living room. Charlie stalked in the direction of the point but her anger was quickly dispatched as surprise took it's place. Ruke LaChayne stood before her without his usual smirk. The usually jovial man looked downright glub. However, he did not keep her gaze long for at his side stood ?milie Torry's young son, Zacharie. A sucker punch of overwhelming dread struck her.

Zach's large brown eyes never lifted from the floor, not even to meet the gaze of his Tante Charlie whom he had not seen in several months. He was mute, unmoving, and heartbreakingly vulnerable. The obvious question hung on her lips unsaid. Where was his mother? She was simply too afraid of the answer. Finally, she gained enough courage to lift her gaze from the despondent child before her to her old friend. There in those usually steely blue eyes she found heartache and the truths that her mind had been fighting off could no longer be denied. In one fell swoop their acceptance was forced upon her and disbelief quickly turned to a deep mourning of the loss, not just her loss but Zach's as well.

"Please God, no."

A leather jacket lay abandoned on the knotted floorboards. A black cat was curled around an infamous wide-brimmed hat as if perhaps the owner would not be able to leave if the cat refused to move from its resting place.

Fingernails adorned with a pale pink polish dug into a down pillow. Rough calloused hands were drawn up over bare arms to cover those clenched fists.

Snow white sheets were balled up and tossed aside as they proved themselves to be an impediment.

A constant stream of kisses pressed against his many scars -- the old ones he'd yet to explain, the ones she had helped treat, and the new ones that she wish she'd been at his side when he received.

Yet, not a single spoken word passed between them.

She seared every inch of him into her memory. There was no more fooling herself into thinking that this was the sort of man whom she could make promise her to stay safe. There was no guarantee that once he left this bed he would ever return to it.

Exhaustion eventually overcame even her need for him. And for those short hours while she slept so deeply, Tareth Thorn, perhaps unknowingly, took back his former title as Charlie Nausikaa's protector -- from outside forces as much as from herself. The weight of responsibility that plagued her thoughts vanished in the arms of her bruised, but beloved, savior.

Then before the sun fully broke to warm the chilly house, a stubbled face pressed a light kiss against her forehead. Although the gesture woke her, she pretended as if it hadn't. She lay still as a corpse and with her eyes tightly shut against the truth as he dressed in near silence. He would not want to say goodbye and she didn't think she could stand to hear him say that word to her again. She would not beg or plead for him to stay... but that was one of the reasons he loved her. He would not give up who he was to remain safe... but that was one of the reasons she loved him.

Even without a goodbye, dwelling on his departure was more pain than she could stand so Charlie forced sleep upon herself once more. Only her door swinging open and the patter of little feet several hours later finally awoke her. Yet, still she could not allow reality to return willingly. There was nothing material to remember the night by. All she was left with were her shoddy memories.

The bed creaked with pressure and only then did Charlie force her green eyes open to watch as Zach crawled into the bed, dragging a stuffed dog by it's big brown ear.

However, it was not the stuffed animal that caught her attention but the much too-large worn hat situated on his head. Tareth's hat. "Where did you get that?" she managed to ask gently as she reached out to take the hat off his head.

Zach pointed towards the end of the bed to indicate where he had found the hat as Charlie drew the hat in close. Her lips twisted into a tired smile at the message he had left. Tareth would most certainly come back for his hat and Charlie would make sure it was on her head when he did.

Zach did not seem the least bit interested in her odd reaction to the hat. "PJ chante encore," Zach whispered with a slightly amused grin as he took a seat at her side.

"Did her singing wake you up? I'm sorry. She's not exactly herself but you will like her so much when she starts feeling better."

He considered her words and, with a confidence that only a child that young can put in an adult's words, gave an accepting nod. "I love you, Auntie Charlie." His whisper had a singsong quality as he drew the stuffed puppy up to his chest just as Charlie had done with the hat.

Resilient. G'nort was right. Kids sure were resilient.

"Je t'aime aussi, Z."

The RhyDin Aquarium was breathtaking, even to two grown children of a fisherman. Of course, neither Charlie nor Gavin Nausikaa had the chance to see such up close views of the specimens their father caught from his little ship swimming in their natural habitat. Still, witnessing some of God's most interesting creations behind great barriers of glass snatched the attention of even the hardest to impress. It was a great accomplishment to have such a pair awestruck and awestruck they were indeed.

PJ, who had insisted upon the trip, laughed in delight at their reaction and was equally pleased with little Zach, who was giddy with glee as a six foot sand tiger shark stormed past the glass or at being able to lean over a low tank to run the back of his hand over the soft back of a sting ray (whose barbed venom-filled spine were kept meticulously cut so that they were harmless) as it flew gracefully through the water propelled by large pectoral wings. Tank upon wondrous tank filled their afternoon. For just that afternoon, Charlie didn't lecture PJ for the camera that she never seemed to put down, Gavin did not purposefully try to irritate either woman, Zach smiled without hesitation, and PJ appeared to be at least half-sober.

They were almost a normal family. Almost.

Charlie could not let herself buy into such optimistic thoughts, though. And, it was on one of her routine scans of the crowd that she remembered why the hope for a peaceful afternoon was such a difficult prospect for her to buy into. He was an oddity in the crowd and, though to most the unimpressive man would not stand out, he stood out like a sore thumb. What single man comes to an aquarium? Without a date? Without a child in tow?

Just as Charlie switched hands with Zach, putting herself between herself and the strange man, Gavin slid up beside Charlie as PJ and Zach giggled over the seahorses who had wrapped their tails around the leafy plants in the tank to remain anchored while they slept. "You know him?"

"Yes, I forgot to tell you, Gavin. I'm having an affair with a creepy bald-headed guy." Charlie's dry joke was met with a stony silence.

That low, deadly tone in Charlie's voice caught PJ's well-trained ear. Even while pointing out some of the pencil-eraser long infant seahorses to keep Zach distracted, the siblings had her attention. Her instantly concerned brown eyes caught Charlie's but instead of answering the question that she was clearly asking with that look, Charlie shifted her gaze back to Gavin as he responded with a plan. "I'll get him. You get PJ and Zach out of here."

"No go. You don't even know what's going on. I've got him. You've got PJ and Zach," Charlie snapped back.

Gavin merely offered a compromising nod and dropped to a crouch before Charlie's ward, spreading his arms out to him. "Zach, why do you not come here to me? We will go get some of those Popsicles you enjoy so much."

Zach's large brown eyes traced back to Charlie's face, attempting to ascertain whether or not she was going with them. She offered a bright, reassuring smile down to him. The need for such a smile had never been present until recently but it was a skill she'd had to learn on the fly with the troubles of the DoD girls and with Zach entering her life. "I have to go handle some business right now, Z. But I'll meet you at home shortly, okay?"

Even while gently reassuring Zach, her green eyes scanned the room to find the stranger once more. They caught sight of the man, leaning against a railing in front of a tank of electric jelly fish. His dark outline was only gently lit in the pale pink pulsing glow of the spectacular fish. Their eyes locked across the room and instantly he knew he had been made. Fear registered on his face and, instantly Charlie was encouraged. She loved when they feared her. He turned on the heels of his boots, twisting his way through the crowd towards an emergency exit. She gave an absent ruffle to Zach's head before pursuing.

She slipped through the crowd of warm bodies pressing together around the more interesting exhibits. It was slow going to that back corner where he stood but she continued on. Their eyes again met briefly as the crowd parted. He turned to flee. Not yet. Only a couple more steps and she would have him.

"Where is the baby, dear?" Ronald asked sweetly, gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

Charlie's green eyes darted from Ronald back to Cole who watched from in stony-eyed silence. "I don't know what baby you're talking about," she whispered in return.

God, no. Not now. She pulled herself free of the flashback just in time to grab two handfuls of the man's long dark coat. She ripped him back violently and threw him against the thick glass tank. Several small brightly colored fish darted away in surprise. He landed with a grunt, his face pressed against the glass awkwardly. The crowd tittered, women yanked their kids away from the fray, and the pair were suddenly given a wide berth. Yet, no one intervened.

Charlie glanced over her shoulder to smile sheepishly at one of the women. "Sorry, he owes me child support."

The woman nodded sagely and scowled at the stalker before grasping her children by both hands and moving on to the sea turtle exhibit. In general, that was all the crowd needed as way of an explanation to continue on their way. This was RhyDin, after all. Violence was such an everyday occurrence and most had enough problems of their own to know better than to intercede in someone else's domestic matters.

Charlie gave a violent shove to his back which awarded her with another grunt and pressed in closely against him to whisper in his ear. "Who are you and who do you work for?"

"I'm just here to look after the child."

"Gavin's child! Don't act stupid!"

Gavin had a child? The news settled on her heavily. She could tell that Cole was carefully examining her reaction. There was no need to fake shock for she was truly taken aback by the news. "I did not know he had a child," Charlie replied evenly.

She shook the memory off. Those day terrors could not be allowed to grip her now, not when a potential threat to Zach was within her grasp.

...or at least had been in her grasp. Her hands were empty. He had evidently had used her distraction to escape.

Instantly, she turned on her heels, searching for a glimpse of him in the dark, crowded exhibit hall. A flash of the man's coat through the crowd caught the corner of her eye and she snaked through the museum's patrons after him. He was moving through the corridors towards the main exit, hoping that the countless parents, toddlers, strollers, and slow-moving necking couples between them would slow her enough for an escape.

Then suddenly realizing that she was gaining on him, the strange stalker deterred his course and pushed his way out a side exit. Without a second thought she followed. Shoving that side door open, she was led into a dirty back alley. Squinting against the blinding full light of day, she broke into a run as the door slammed shut behind her. He wasn't far ahead. The man was older, slower. He had no chance of getting away. Again two fistfuls of his coat was grabbed and again he was shoved -- this time into the brick building rather than a glass tank.

"Who the hell are you? What do you want with Zach?" she growled as she used her weight to pin him against the building, twisting his arm back painfully.

He gave a pained cry and she eased the upward pull ever so slightly. "I am nobody of any importance. I have no plans of harming Zacharie," he proclaimed breathlessly.

His left arm was ripped upward behind his back in a brutal manner. The arm gave a sickening snap as his wrist bone snapped unnaturally. "Wrong answer, bub," Charlie murmured in her impression of Koy over his desperate cry of pain. The useless arm was released and, in the same fluid motion, his right was now snatched and twisted upward behind his back.

A heavy back handed fist came across her cheek delivered by one of the guards. A surprised cry escaped her throat which was immediately followed by the taste of blood. They were serious. She did not need any further proof of that. Ronald allowed silence to fall over the room, giving Charlie time to consider her next response now that she knew that they were not above beating her. God, how she wished she had slaughtered the man all those years ago!

"Tell us who has the baby."

Luckily, when she withdrew herself from the flashback this time, the broken armed man had not had a chance to escape. In fact, he was so busy fighting through his pain that he did even seem to notice her momentary lapse. Without mercy, she pulled his arm up until he cried out once more before easing the pressure ever so slightly.

It was then that a marking on the back of his right wrist caught her eyes. She used one hand to shove up his jacket sleeve while the other held his arm in place behind him. There on his arm, was a burn marking; a brand of the Triquetra -- the symbol for the Holy Trinity. Yet, the end traditionally thought to be the Son had a "L" within its confines, the end of the Spirit had a "Z", and the top of the triangular mark for the Father had another "Z".

Yet, while that odd burned Triquetra had been noted, it was an older tattoo just beneath the crude brand that caught her attention. An intricate brown "N" had been tattooed into his flesh -- an exact match to the larger "N" tattooed between Charlie's shoulder blades.

Nausikaa.

Charlie spat a mouthful of blood disdainfully inches from Ronald's shoes. He laughed at the gesture, shaking his head. No more words passed between the pair. Instead, he nodded his head towards the imposing guards towering on either side of her.

The tactic was predictable. Ronald had learned a lot of torture in the years that passed. First they had told her how to save herself and now they would loosen her up. Charlie released a soft sigh, closing her eyes and steeling herself for the beating that she knew was about to follow.

How long had she spent in that painful world? The sun was already starting to slip down behind the buildings. She pulled herself free from that dark hallucinations only to find herself lying in the fetal position on the sludge filled cobblestone of the deserted alley. A hand reached up to the brick building to steady herself as she rose. Her short fingernails angrily bit into the mortar, chipping her pale pink nail polish beyond a simple repair job. The man was long since gone.

Self-hatred beckoned like an old back-stabbing friend. It was only too easy to blame herself for allowing the man to escape, to bemoan the day terrors of the torture at Ronald's hands, to sink back into drug binges to forget both. She didn't have that luxury this time around. Zach didn't have that luxury. Therefore, her mind latched onto the brown tattoo etched into the man's arm just above his wrist as it was the one clue she had to his identity and, possibly, to Emilie's killer.

The tattoo between her shoulder blades seemed to burn fiercely with her boiling anger and now it finally had a target to latch onto in her former employer, Arane Nausikaa Ganderfald.

All Saints' Day - The Festival of the Dead
Palace of Redemption
Talsiny City, Talsiny

Arane Nausikaa Ganderfald turned from the windows overlooking the Square of the Virgin Mother to level her cool blue gaze on the younger woman. Although current Talsinian women's fashion called for a dress bunched beneath the breasts and flowing in a light soft layer downward, not showing off most of a woman's curves, Arane had always been an undersized woman and had never failed to gain more weight than seemed possible for her frame when with child. Thus, to Charlie, her condition was immediately apparent.

Their eyes met for a long moment before she could find her voice. "When are you due?"

"Six weeks," Arane replied in a deceptively soft tone as she stepped towards the table, taking a seat at the head -- the chair that had belonged to Cardinal Moscinom the last time the pair had been in this room together. "So if you are here to kill me, you may return to complete your task in two months' time."

Charlie hesitated momentarily before easing into a chair at the table as well. "I need information."

"How is Tareth?" Arane's tone was bitter. It was her first volley of fire.

The reminder of the destruction Tareth laid upon Nausikaa to keep her safe from their wrath eased her anxiety momentarily. Surely she was safe again from Nausikaa's wrath under the spell of Tareth's love. He had already proved to them just unstable and deadly he could be should a lock of her hair be disturbed. It was a tense stalemate, the promise of mutual destruction, that hung over them. "Very well. He sends his love and asked me to remind you of the promise he made you," Charlie shot back in a dry, sarcastic tone paired with a cool smile.

Arane kept her thoughts on the matter to herself as she placed her clasped hands on the table before them. "So what is it exactly that I can do for you, Charlotte?"

"A man was following Zach. He said that he was there to look after him. Low and behold, he had a Nausikaa tattoo above his wrist." Charlie's forearms dropped to the table and she leaned over it to narrow her eyes at her former employer. "You should know by now that if you want something, you should ask me for it rather than going behind my back for it."

The glower caused Arane to rise to her feet again. She could not put up with such an impertinent expression, especially within the Palace walls, but she also was too intrigued by the statement to scold Charlie properly. Therefore, she would turn back towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Square. Even though this was her fourth pregnancy, she never seemed to become more used to balancing the awkward weight and the extra moment it took her to rise to her feet gave her time to contemplate the information. "I have nobody watching you or Zach and I doubt Cletus would waste resources on a three year old. What did the man look like?"

The look of sullen anger faded from Charlie's features as Arane turned away from it and with her question, she leaned back to rest her spine against the back of the chair. "He was under six feet, moderate build, bald. He had an odd brand of the Triquetra beneath the Nausikaa tattoo--"

"The Triquetra?" Arane asked suddenly, turning from the window to face Charlie once again.

"Yes, but with the letters "Z", "Z", and "L" in the interior of the loops."

"His name is Antonio Fercuzio. He left Nausikaa to join the Order of the Triquetra several years ago. We did not wish to stand in the way of his religious calling." Arane gave a slow nod and her gaze floated towards the door, already the gears in her mind were busy spinning. Situations were analyzed. Possibilities were reviewed. "The Order of the Triquetra are a small, secretive religious order of monks. They remain mainly to themselves in a monastery on the coast of Navaro, just behind the dune hills. Even the Bishop of the region knows little of what goes on within their walls but the Order has been around for centuries and the bishops give them a lot of leeway because of their academic reputation."

Charlie rubbed absently at her cheek as she soaked in the knowledge. "What would they want with Zach?"

Arane gave a small shrug of her shoulders to signal her ignorance in the matter. "One of the members of the order lives at Atalaya Manor and teaches Zen. However, I do not know what they would want with Zach." For a moment she hesitated, information was always kept close to the vest. However, in the end, after all that they had been through over the past decade she could not deny Charlie. "Back in June, shortly after Nausikaa took control of Talsiny from the Cardinal, the Abbot of the Order of Triquetra came to me and offered his order's assistance in Zen's religious education. They stated that they were only asking for the honor to guide the King but had all sort of stipulations, including that no one else be present during these lessons."

"You allowed that?" Charlie asked in disbelief.

A slow smile appeared on Arane's face as laid her hands on the back of the chair she had risen from. "I made them compromise. I allowed that no adults be present but asked that my daughters benefit from these lessons as well."

A soft laugh escaped Charlie's throat as she shook her head. "You have Adana spying on Zen's lessons, do you?"

"Spying? Of course not! I am merely questioning my eldest child on what she learned during the day is all," Arane answered with mock innocence. "To date, nothing of any interest has come out of it. Though the monk does tend to linger on topics of courage and strength of will."

With the information in mind, Charlie's next course of action was laid out before her. She rose to her feet with a brisk nod to Arane. "Thank you." With little else to say between them, she headed for the exit.

"Charlotte."

Arane's voice drew her to a stop and she turned back to face the woman. A moment of silence passed as Arane struggled with her words but finally threw together a pair of sentences that would linger in Charlie's mind for decades to come. "Your friend made a good decision. I know that you will make an excellent mother to that boy."

With the words finally out, Arane's lips relaxed into a sisterly smile. In spite of herself, Charlie could not help but mirror the expression for, although there was no shared blood between them, the familial bond burned too hot to be extinguished by such trivial matters as assault, a coup d'etat, or even death itself.

All Souls' Day
The Torry Cottage
Port Martha, Talsiny

The waves broke with an almost irritating regularity just beyond the dunes, urging Charlie to enter the cottage with every violent crash. A seagull perched on top the low white fence squawked at her as if mocking her for being unable to open the door. What was she afraid of? Emilie's broken corpse was no longer there. It had long since been buried in the cemetery behind Port Martha's tiny chapel. And even if it had not, it had been many years since she was shocked by the sight of a dead body even that of a friend.

Why was she even here? What was she hoping to find? She couldn't answer either question even though they dominated her thoughts. Perhaps it was her way of paying her respects to her friend. Certainly Emilie's spirit was more likely to be here, in the home she lived for twenty-five years, rather than the cold graveyard surrounded by strangers.

Her clammy hand lifted to the cool handle and with a sudden rush of courage, she pressed down the lever and swung open the door. The warmth of years of joyful memories gathered inside the walls had dissipated under the weight of the heavy tragedy that now defined the energy of the property. The seaside cottage was a hollow shell, a shadow of the home it had been. Gathering her courage and fighting off the rush of childhood memories that suddenly seemed tainted by seeing the home in such a state, she crossed the threshold.

"I've been waiting for you, Charlie."

Cole Kelly. The voice from her teenage fantasies and, as of late, her constant nightmares greeted her. Frozen in place with the shock of finding him here. He stepped out of the doorway that led to Emilie's small bedroom and moved casually towards Charlie. "God, you look good."

She froze in place with a heightened awareness of every tightened muscle in her body. She forced herself to remain still despite her initial reaction to strike before he had an opportunity to strike her. "What are you doing here?"

"No reminiscing about old times? No apologies for what you and your friend did? Very well then." Cole drew a finger down her thightened jaw bone, lingering above her to keep his voice low and intimate. "Unfortunately, you seem to be getting into the habit of getting in the way of my employers. I need to know where the Illuminati prophecy is."

"I don't know, Cole."

"Of course you do," he hissed down at her suddenly. The sweetness evaporated from his tone and his nasty, collected temper reared its ugly head. Her blue-green eyes looked past him as he breathed hotly on her neck. "And you're going to start thinking really fast or I'm going to break your bones one by one until you're begging me to end your pain again."

That drew her angry eyes back on him but her lips slid into a sneer. "Begging you again? But it's not the way you want me to beg, is it? You want me begging for you but I didn't. I begged you to dope me up because I just couldn't stand being sober in your presence for another second."

The last word was barely hurled in his direction before his demeanor shifted entirely to the violent mad man that always lurked beneath the surface. He pulled a fist back and threw a disgusted jab towards her head. The abrupt change in Cole's tactics was not foreseen and Charlie was caught off guard by the attack. She pulled off to the side but it wasn't in time to avoid the punch completely. His fist glanced off her cheek, slowing her attempt to mount a defense. He pressed his advantage. His thick, calloused hands wrapped themselves around her neck, drawing her up off the ground before she could even react. Both of her hands lept to his arms, fingernails digging through his skin causing pinpricks of blood to begin to spot his arm. He cruelly squeezed her neck tighter to block off her flow of air but so intent was he in watching her eyes while she die, he missed her viciously pulling up a knee towards his groin.

With a stunned groan of pain his grip on her was released and he doubled over in pain as she stumbled away. Air stormed back through her bruised windpipe burning it painfully, causing her head to immediately pound with the heady rush of oxygen. Blindly, she reached out for a solid object to steady herself. Her hands landed hard against the mantle, fingers clawing desperately at the brick. An enraged roar greeted Cole's second attack.

Resting there on the mantle, she saw an advantage over the much larger man in a large, heavy glass bottle containing one of the intricate ships that Emilie's grandfather worked so tirelessly upon during his life. Her fingers curled around the neck of the bottle and, just as he came upon her, she spun around on her heels to draw the makeshift weapon down hard towards his temple. The glass crashed against his skull shattering into a million jagged shards. The satisfying sound of shattering glass was followed by the heavy thud of Cole's unconscious body thumping against the floorboards. Charlie fell to her hands and knees beside Cole's body as she still struggled to regain control of her breathing. The serrated glass covering the floor bit into the skin of her hands.

Gradually, the burning eased to a level of bearable pain and she forced her green eyes back open. Cole lay beside her still unmoving. Blood trickled from his temple but his chest rose and fall in shallow breaths. Her first love was still alive. The realization brought about mixed emotions that she didn't have time for so she shackled them back into place.

"And you sucked in bed," she accused breathlessly, bitterly.

Carefully, she eased back to a crouch, lightly brushing her hands off on her pants in an attempt to clear her palms of glass. With sorrow she eyed the ship now laying wrecked upon Cole's shoulder. Heaving a sigh of disappointment at having broken such a family heirloom, she reached forward to pick up the tiny ship. Without warning, the words from Emilie's note popped into her head once again. Vos solutions sont dans le petit navire. Your answers are in the little ship. Le petit navire. The little ship. What if the second line had not been referring to Zach as the first line had? A sudden rush of understanding hit and anxiously she snapped the delicate ship in two. There within the confines of the wooden hull was a rolled up yellowing scroll.

The scroll was gently removed from the hull and the shipwrecked boat was dropped carelessly to the ground. With as much care and caution as she could manage through her excitement, she unrolled the prophecy. Her green eyes scanned over the Latin written in painstakingly tiny letters on the scroll. The news held upon it was almost as shocking as the letter Emilie had written before her death bequeathing Zach to her. Thus, she read it again and again until she was absolutely sure there were no mistakes in her translation of the document.

A slow smile at Emilie's secret parted her lips gradually at first before overtaking her face. "My God, Emmie. What have you gotten me into?" she whispered to the ghosts.

"O ignis spiritus paracliti,
vita vite omnis creature,
sanctus es vivificando formas."

The Gregorian chant coupled with the intense incense and the drink given earlier to serve as a mild anesthetic made Charlie's mind sluggish at best. Trying to focus on the moment at hand, her green eyes attempted to connect with her surroundings. The chapel at the Holy Order of the Triquetra's priory was snug which only agitated the reeling feeling that had overwhelmed her. Her hands clung to the arms of the chair as she forced her gaze back to the Abbot, feeling the splash of holy from the wand-like sprinkler.

The Abbot stood before her, placing the wand back into the urn of holy water which was taken back to the altar by Brother Antonio. She lifted a hand to cross herself without thinking. The Abbot lifted his voice above the softly chanting monks in the background. "Lord, we are gathered her today so to show our thanks for the recovery of the Illuminati prophecy and to allow this sister in the cause to join our holy ranks."

"Sanctus es unguendo
periculose fractos:
sanctus es tergendo
fetida vulnera."

The Abbot lifted his meaty arms towards the sky. "Lord Jesus Christ, our Brother and our Saviour, You have prayed that we will be one as You and Your Father are one. Send Your Holy Spirit to preside over this day, and help us to work together for Your honour and glory and for the salvation of the world. Lord Jesus, hear our prayer, for You are our Lord for ever and ever."

The monks responded with a soft but heartfelt chorus of "Amen." The Abbot turned to Brother Antonio and gave a stoic nod. At that signal, the chanting from the chorus lifted. Charlie was not far enough out of it to not know why for the sudden lift in the music. The increased volume was to drown out her scream. Instead of focusing on Brother Antonio as he walked away from the gathering, her mind concentrated on the hypnotic chanting.

"O spiraculum sanctitatis,
o ignis caritatis,
o dulcis gustus in pectoribus
et infusio cordium
in bono odore virtutum."

The work of translating the Latin words of the chant allowed her mind to become preoccupied rather than dwell on the choice she had made and the intense physical pain in her immediate future due to that choice. O breath of holiness, o fire of loving, o sweet taste in the breast, you fill the heart with the good aroma of virtues. Brother Antonio returned to the Abbot with the Triquetra brand in hand. The metal was thinner than a livestock brand but then the skin of her arm was no where near as tough as the skin and hair at the left hip of cattle. It was not red hot as one might expect but the color of ash as a red hot brand leaves a poor marking.

The Abbot took the brand in hand before turning back to Charlie, smiling tightly down upon her. He was too gentle of a man to enjoy this part of the ceremony but it was a centuries' old tradition and he had dedicated his life to honoring that. "Charlotte, will you accept your Lord's calling as a lay member of the Holy Order of the Triquetra? Will you turn your back to evil and, together with your brethren of the Holy Order, assist in preparing and protecting the Triquetra?"

"O fons purissimus,
in quo consideratur
quod Deus alienos colligit
et perditos requirit."

"I will," she stated firmly, meeting his gaze confidently.

With his free hand, he motioned to the monks gathered at her side. Two of the larger monks from each of her sides stepped away from the group and towards her. Her right arm was turned and held in place. They braced her for movement against the pain that was too come. The Abbot mouthed a silent prayer for strength. Tender-heartedness would only make him hesitant and make the process more painful. When he reopened his eyes, it was with a renewed sense of purpose. He stepped forward and brought the hot poker down assuredly against the flesh of Charlie Nausikaa's arm. As the poker was brought down against her arm, the chanting swelled and her cry of pain became just another voice in the crowd.

"O lorica vite et spes compaginis
membrorum omnium,
et o cingulum honestatis
salva beatos."


((The Gregorian chant, O Ignis Spiritus, used in this story was written by Hildegard von Bingen (1098 - 1179). The full translation of the portion used in this story is below:

O Holy Fire which soothes the spirit
life force of all creation
holiness you are in living form

You are a holy ointment
for perilous injuries
You are holy in cleansing
the fetid wound.

O breath of holiness
o fire of loving
o sweet taste in the breast
you fill the heart
with the good aroma of virtues.

O fountain of purity
in whom it is considered
that God collected the lost
and the damned saved.

O robe of life and hope for the companions
our brothers all of the church
and the belt of honesty
save the blessed. ))