Mors Funebris Ch. 3 P. 8

Mors Funebris Chapter 3 Part 8
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“It was human once.” He explained, as he looked over the empty spot where the creature had been.
“Long ago.” He finished, which left Mara gaping in shock.
“Human?” she said, or she tried to at least.
“Huhm?” She managed instead. The knowledge that that Thing had once been human, left her mind awhirl.
“The immediate danger has passed,” Arawn said grimly. He then dried his tears with a hand. “However, there is another to take into consideration.” He stated as he removed a radio from his belt, turned it on and switched the channel to operations.
‘All hands. This is Doctor Iron. I am issuing an A.P.B for Grendel! He was last sighted leaving the Main Atrium, possibly towards the east. He is to be considered Armed and EXTREMELY Dangerous!,…’ Arawn stopped when he noticed Mara had laid a hand on his shoulder. He looked at it, then to her.
“Mara?” he asked, concerned by this unusual behavior. “Are you alright?”
“Sorry.” She exclaimed, as she removed her hand. “I’m just a little fatigued right now.” She said as her head drooped. Then she stumbled on some debris when she took a step.
“Mara?” Arawn asked again, his voice rising slightly as he turned and faced her. Her eyes crossed as she raised a hand to wave away his concerns. Slowly she gave halfhearted wave.
“Mara, please?” he said as he reached out a hand towards her.
“I’m FINE!” she said crossly, as she tried to slap his hand away, and missed.
Frowning concernedly, Arawn then placed his hand firmly on her shoulder and gripped it lightly. When he did, Mara tried to bat it away. But all she could manage, was a weak tap.
“Lemme,…lone.” She muttered, as she began to sag. “Uhhmmm juss,…” she panted once, “ juss,…dzzzie.” She finally managed to say when Arawn put a supportive arm around her shoulders.
“Mara, please sit.” He said softly, concern in his eyes.
He then firmly, gently guided her to a sitting position. She tried to resist at first, but found that she was too tired. Once she had sat. Arawn sat alongside her. When he did, Mara leaned over and placed her head on his shoulder,
‘What?’ he thought, startled by the unusual familiarity. He opened his mouth to reprimand her. ‘Wait, is her breathing becoming labored?’ he asked. He continued to monitor her vigilantly.
‘Tremors? What is your core temperature?’ He thought as he placed his free hand onto her forehead. ‘Clammy.’ He determined.
 “Mara, are you feeling cold?” he asked. After a moment’s delay, she nodded slowly.
“cold.’ She murmured.
“I am concerned with this. So I will call our EMS to come and retrieve you.” He said as he did just that. After he finished apprising EMS control, he noticed that Mara was glaring at him.
“Oh, don’t be so fussy Arawn!” she said. “I’m not a baby.: She paused lazily, “I’m perfectly capable,… of walking on my own,… two feet. I just need,…need to rest,…a bit.” She yawned as she shifted herself to lie down.
 “Don’t move.” Arawn stated, “They will be here in a few,…” He began then stopped as his eyes caught sight of Mara’s blackened wing-wrist wound.
‘I had forgotten about that! Is this connected to her sudden lassitude?’ he wondered.
“Mara?” he began as he reached out a finger and lightly tapped the blackened hole on her wing-wrist. “Did you feel that?” he asked, his concern rising.
“Feel,..wha,..?” she murmured . Arawn stiffened as his face paled. He grabbed ahold of her wing-wrist and squeezed it, firmly!
Mara still didn’t react.
“Great Maker!” he said, alarmed, as he jumped to his feet. His heart began to beat faster with a mounting concern.
 “MARA!” he said gruffly, “That bolt that I removed? How did you get it?!” he half-shouted frantically. It took him a couple more times before she reacted.
“Oh,..that…?”she replied slowly. “yeah,…” she paused to breathe in a couple of times. She leaned back to look at him and nearly fell over. He deftly caught her. Then he lay her gently on the ground. She smiled as she stretched out.
‘Feels good.’ She decided dreamily. “nap,…time,…”
“MARA!” Arawn shouted at her, which earned him a glare.
“Wha,..?” she asked tiredly.
“The bolt! The bolt! Where and when did it impale you?” he demanded forcibly. When he didn’t get an immediate answer, he yelled at her again. Finally, she roused enough to speak.
“fir fall.” She lazily pointed back at the Atrium.
“Fir fall?” he asked, confused. “Oh,… fire fall!” he realized as he looked in the direction she pointed to. At that precise moment, another section of burning ceiling collapsed and fell to the floor. Mara flinched at the sound.
“cubs,…” she murmured, and then her head lolled when she finally fell asleep.
Following his hunch, Arawn rolled Mara onto her side, and began to examine the rest of her back. He took ahold of a wing and unfurled it gently, and then gasped at what he saw.
“May the gods strike me down for being a fool!” he shouted in self-recrimination. ‘First, second, and far too many third-degree Burns!’ he grimaced as his anger with himself mounted.
After a quick securing of his equipment. Arawn carefully began to position her for a carry.
‘Careful! Careful,,… do not overbalance her!’ he admonished himself, as he began to shift Mara into a firefighter’s carry. It took him longer than usual due to his fatigue, but he managed it.
“Faex!” he cursed in frustration, when both of her wings plopped down alongside of him. He carefully lowered her to the ground and secured her wings. He tried to lift her once more, and failed. ‘Damnitus!’ he cursed again.
‘Great Maker, I am spent, with no reserves to draw upon.’ He panted, as he regretted the lack of his Not-brothers.
He contemplated the sight of Mara, the spot where he’d found her, then took note of the line of advancing fire.
‘Its advance has accelerated. We must move, NO!’ He decided, as he did something he hadn’t done for a long while. The equivalent of ‘dipping into the principal’.
Within a few seconds, strength surged through him once more. Allowing him to put her atop his shoulders easily.
‘This will cost me dearly. But her needs are more important right now.’ He decided grimly. Then, once he got his bearings. He began a double-time slog, careful not to set himself into a bouncing gait. Which could damage the unconscious Lilim.
It was slow going, due to the lack of light and far too much smoke.
“Control, this is Doctor Iron,…!” he began, after he reacquired his radio. But he was interrupted.
“Iron. Update!” The EMS dispatcher interrupted. “EMS Delayed! Higher Priority! Night-cubs Arrived. Over!”
“Understood!” he shouted into the microphone. “Update! Patient status-enroute! Burn-team Stat. Over!” he shouted again as he continued running the best he could. It was difficult to do as he had to dodge both debris and people now.
“Copy! ETA?”
“Five to ten minutes!”
“Roger! Injury Status?” Dispatch asked.
“Major burns, bilateral dorsal, possible sepsis/hypovolemia.” He panted.
“Copy! Burn team reports standby.”
“Copy!” Arawn shouted as he snapped the key off. Then he focused all of his efforts on getting Mara to the Infirmary’s ER as quickly as possible. Thankfully, he was now far enough out from ground zero, that the haze had started to clear.
‘We might just make it!’ Arawn thought hopefully.
But Fate has a wicked sense of humor. For as soon as he finished that thought,…
“Arawn? Why are you carrying me?” Mara asked confused, her voice in a motorboat stutter by the pounding of his feet.
“I am taking you to the Emer,…” he began
‘Put me down! I can walk.” She said testily.
“MARA there is no time! I estimate seconds till you feel pain again!”
“Maou Damn IT ARAWN, I tell you that I’m fi,…” she said furiously, and then stopped as she started to feel some intense prickling on her back.
 Her eyes widened, and her mouth turned into an ‘O’ as that prickling began to rapidly spread and flare.
Arawn took several more steps, and turned his head to see what caused her sudden silence.
“ow?” She whispered disbelievingly. Then she blinked a couple of times.
“Ow.” She uttered as she began to tense. Arawn heard her beginning to pant.
“OWWww!” she began to whine, as she began to flail about, which caused Arawn’s grip on her to slip.
“Mara!” Arawn shouted, as he did his best to increase his pace. “Try not to move around!” he warned as he repositioned his grasp. Mara bit down hard on a knuckle in an effort to fight the pain. It didn’t do much good.
“It’s getting woooorrrrse!” she said around that knuckle, clenching her eyes shut tightly.
 She did her best to fight the urge to cry out. Arawn then made it a half dozen steps before,…
“NNNNNGGGGGHHHH!” She moaned loudly through gritted teeth, biting hard enough now to draw blood. Arawn plodded twice, and Mara’s control evaporated.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!” She screamed as loudly as she never had before. Mara felt her mind trying to draw away from her body, in an effort to save her sanity.
“MAKE IT STOP!! MAKE IT STOP!! STOP!!” STOP!!” STOP!!” she continued, as she began writhing furiously, causing Arawn to stagger. He corrected himself.
Unfortunately that was when the spade end of Mara’s tail, smacked him in his face distracting him. Just as someone large, stepped into his path.
“OOOOFFFFF!” Arawn expelled involuntarily, as both he and Mara tumbled into and over the oafish idiot.
Unhurt, Arawn shook his head to clear it. When he had, he noticed that he’d collided with a Sasquatch, one with half its fur scorched away.
It was now sitting on the floor, silently blinking in puzzlement at its change in status. Bending concernedly over it, was an attending Orderly. Who gave Arawn a dirty look.
Arawn dismissed them both, when he heard Mara’s pitiful bleating. She had rolled a further few feet along the direction of travel. Still somewhat addled by his collision with the Sasquatch. Arawn stumbled his way to hear.
Once he got near, he tried to reach out a restraining hand several times. Every time it would get knocked away by one of her convulsing arms, legs, or wings.
‘Mara!’ he cried silently at his helplessness. He was unsure of how best to assist her without risking damage to either of them.
 Sensing him, she opened her pain filled eyes and fixated on him
“KILL ME! She yelled, shocking Arawn to his core. Unable to comply, he began to back away. As he did, Mara reached out a hand and latched onto one of his.
“Kill Me!” she pleaded, tears forming in her eyes. “I can’t take it anymore!”
Arawn felt himself go cold then. Shaking away her hand, he stood up, set his shoulders, and raised a fist above his head.
Mara calmed slightly, as she saw him raise his right fist. Yet, even then he hesitated.
“Please.” She whimpered quietly. It motivated him.
She smiled at the sight of his fist coming down towards,….
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Either a moment or a lifetime later, Mara opened her eyes.
‘Whut?’ she asked, confused.
‘Where am I?’ she asked again as her eyes darted back and forth. She couldn’t see much, due to the glare of the overhead lamps.
‘Someone’s tugging at my clothes.’ She realized as she moved her head to see who it was.
‘Oh?’ she almost smiled, when she noticed that it was a strapping young male who was doing the tugging.
For some reason he had chosen to cut her clothes off with a pair of scissors. Normally she’d have been receptive to that kind of foreplay. But something didn’t feel right about it.
“What’s go,…?” she began to ask. Then her pain returned like a tsunami.
AAAAAHHHHHHH!” She shrieked.
“She’s awake!” shouted a voice. “A little help here!” it continued. Within a second or two, she felt several pairs of hands grabbing at her. All unwelcome, since that somehow made her pain worse!
She lashed out in an effort to make them let go.
“Aaah! Fuck! She got me in the eye.” Said a female’s voice.
“Dammit! She’s strong!” Came another. Right then Mara pushed away something cold and heavy with a leg. A loud clattering ensued as it impacted the floor with a metallic ringing.
“Orderlies! Give us a hand!!” Said the first voice. Then several more hands and arms managed to get ahold of her. Still she struggled, as she continued to vocalize the pain that chewed off parts of her soul.
Then, she felt some unknown thing cover her nose and mouth.
‘Can’t breathe!’  She thought as she twisted her face away, dislodging it. But then another pair of hands restrained her head. Then that thing covered her mouth again.
“NOOOO!” she vocalized through her agony. Her voice sounding hollow.
“Mara! Breathe!” Arawn commanded her. Mara’s eyes sprung open at the sound of him.
‘LET ME BREATHE!’ she yelled. She then tried to bite at his fingers holding that mask in place.
“INHALE!” he commanded her. “It is akin to Essence!” he spat. “INHALE!” he shouted again, locking his eyes with hers.
As she tried to bite him again, she sucked in a lungful of funny tasting air.
“Yes Mara, take it in!” he said. Mara exhaled and was about to try to bite him once more, when...She realized that her pain had begun subside.
It wasn’t much, but she savored the difference. Connecting the dots, she sucked in several more breaths. As she did, she noticed that her pain began to diminish to a dull roar, and continued to reduce.
“How is she still awake? She should be out by now!” Asked an unfamiliar female voice. Arawn didn’t reply, he just focused on Mara.
“You are doing well Mara, just keep breathing.” Arawn nodded as he continued holding the anesthesia mask in place. He smiled with relief as he felt her finally start to relax.
As the number of minutes increased, Mara felt her pain finally fall away to barely noticeable. As it receded, so too did her ability to stay awake. After a few more minutes, she turned her head and looked up at Arawn through increasingly heavy eyelids.
‘So far away from me.’ She thought as she finally surrendered and closed her eyes.
“All right. I think that should be,…just about enough.” She heard Arawn say through the darkness. He was quiet for a moment.
“Horace? Is your team ready?” He spoke again, this time further away.
‘Horus?’ Mara thought fearfully, as she forced her eyes open one last time. Right then she saw a dark-skinned hand smacking lightly down onto Arawn’s shoulder. Then it firmly pushed him out of the way.
“We’ll take it from here, Iron.” Came a stern voice. Shifting her ever increasingly heavy eyes, Mara saw that ‘Horus’ was not a God-Falcon, like she expected.
Instead, he was a thin-faced, clean-shaven human male. She found herself fascinated with the sight of one of the most unusual looking noses she’d ever seen before.
 “You go ahead and run interference with the politicians. I’ll send word if I need anything.” Horace muttered as he looked down at Mara with an experienced eye.
‘Isn’t that a Roman-nose, I think..’ she thought lazily.  Horace glanced to his right. ““Get her intubated.,” he said forcefully. Then he sighed tiredly.
‘Intubated?’ Mara murmured the funny sounding word.
”We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”
‘Masturbated?’ Mara chuckled as her eyelids became too heavy to keep open.
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Like every previous time Arawn awoke, he stared at the ceiling above his bed for the longest time. What went on in that ancient head of his head. Who could say? Because he never did.
At some unguessable point, he threw back the covers and began to get ready for the rest of the day. As per a long-standing habit, the first thing he did upon standing was to walk over and peer out the nearest window.
Despite it being an early sunny afternoon, the city outside was shrouded in near darkness. Not because of the smoke that still rose from parts of the Iron Foundation, but because the ambient light had been shifted to the near end of the infrared spectrum.
Just on the other side of the window glass, was a bird seemingly frozen in mid-flight. Actually, it was slowly creeping along chasing an insect. If an observer were patient, they’d see the insect being slowly engulfed by the bird’s beak.
‘Cobalt blue back, tawny belly.’ Arawn smiled as he peered closely at it, ‘Barn swallow,…Hirundo rustica. It has arrived early this year.’ He deemed, then he turned away.
At the end of his bed, near the center of the room, was a foot-tall slightly glowing crystal-tetrahedron sitting atop a round table. Arawn barely gave it a glance as he passed it on the way to his bathroom.
After he had dressed, he then stepped over to the crystal and readied himself.
‘Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.’ Arawn thought, as he steeled himself for the disagreeable task, he knew awaited him.
As he inhaled deeply and held his breath, he placed a hand onto the top of the crystal and deactivated it. As the crystal’s inner glowing faded, so the outside ambient light brightened to the normal smog-tinged blue sky. And with it, Arawn’s stomach.
Outside the window, the Swallow shot off. Its next meal firmly emplaced within its crop.
“Erk!” he gasped painfully, as a wave of nausea passed over him. He staggered and clenched at the crystal to keep himself from collapsing. Within a few subjective seconds, the flow of time in his room matched the rest of the world’s.
Arawn remained where he was for the better part of a minute, panting. Once he had steadied himself for company, he stood up, straightened his clothing and then partially opened his bedroom door.
As he stepped away, he heard a knocking on the door jamb (?). He turned and saw that his secretary, Ms. Augustine, was peeking her head inside.
“Is it safe?” she asked him cautiously.
“Relatively speaking, yes. What is it?” Arawn replied testily.
“You wanted me to inform you of any news concerning the council.” She began.
“Indeed.” He nodded. “What has happened this time?” he asked. Ms. Augustine, sensing it was safe to enter, ducked her head out, opened his door and then entered while pushing a cart in front of her.
“Artemus.” She said quietly as she stopped the cart next the Arawn’s work table, and transferred a covered food tray to its surface.
“Great Maker! What has that mangy cur of a Werewolf, been up to now?”
“I will give you the details, as you break your fast.” Ms. Augustine insisted firmly. Arawn’s eyes flared angrily, wishing to argue. But he knew the futility of it.
He sighed and sat himself down in front of the tray and lifted the cover off. He frowned at what lay in front of him.
“Is this your idea of a joke? Oatmeal, fruit slices, and orange juice?” he demanded testily. “Where is my standard fare?!”
“Chef reports that the kitchen is running of staples. Since any source of resupply is delayed due to the ongoing disaster efforts; She has chosen to prioritize all meat, and meat byproducts to the resident Nightbreed.” Ms. Augustine replied, as she continued flipping through the cart’s collection of file folders.
“At the very least. Where is my coffee?!” Arawn sighed peevishly.
“You are an omnivore, Master Iron. You can easily handle this temporary privation. Besides, you should be cutting back on saturated fats anyway.” She said nonchalantly.
“Coffee is NOT a meat product.” He pointed out firmly.
“All active Emergency crews, and Medical staff are given precedence for coffee. As per your directive.” Ms. Augustine smilingly replied. Happy to score a point.
Arawn frowned peevishly for several seconds, then he began eating his food reluctantly.
“Artemus?” he said in between bites, in an effort to change the subject.
“He’s been taking advantage of the latest attack. He’s started fanning the flames of resentment against your perceived inability, to do anything substantial concerning Grendel.”
“Well they are scared, frustrated, angry, and tired. I know I am.” Arawn replied, pausing thoughtfully between bites.
“Yes, but you need a way to counter his arguments.”
“Do you have a suggestion?”
“Indeed,” she nodded, “Unlike Humans, Nightbreed are more impressed with actions, not words. Give them a display of your power.”
“Did I not do so with the Gakkanath?”
“Yes, but only a handful of them witnessed that. You need to do something more public.”
“Where is he currently?” He asked, as he finished the last of his oatmeal. He also did his best to not gag at the aftertaste.
“In the Council chambers doing what he does best, spreading verbal poison.”
“Very well then,” Arawn stated as he got to his feet. “Perhaps now will be,…” he began. But he was interrupted by the sound of cracking noise. Both he and Ms. Augustine’s head turned to look at the source: the crystal tetrahedron.
“FAEX!” Arawn complained as he stepped over and began to examine it. “Blasted inferior technology!” he hissed.
“Hasn’t this worked out well for you, the last century and a half?”
“Yes, it has.” He admitted. “However, real Time-lord technology is largely self-repairing. This is not.”
“Is it broken?” Ms. Augustine asked, concerned.
“I do not know. I will have to run a diagnostic first.” He answered as he reached over for his toolkit. Ms. Augustine laid a restraining hand on his. He looked at her with annoyance.
“That will have to wait.” She said levelly. “Artemus takes priority.”
“You are correct.” Arawn replied reluctantly as he put his toolkit away. Silently he motioned to Ms. Augustine to follow him as he left the room. She did.
Soon, as they made their way through the remaining relatively undamaged halls towards the council, Arawn asked her a question.
“When I show up unexpectedly. What do you think will happen?”
“Honestly? If you resort to words, he’ll demand a vote of no-confidence. I have no idea if he has enough votes to be successful.”
“if he wins, then he becomes Council chair. Upon which, he will probably dissolve the Council, allowing the more aggressive Nightbreed to return to their old ways,”
“Which would give the Pro-active Hunters the excuse they have been waiting for, to eliminate any and all Nightbreed.” Arawn concluded, disturbed at the notion
“Indeed.” Ms. Augustine nodded somberly.
“Then, logically, I must expend even more energy in something flashy.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I wish my not-brothers were here for me to draw upon.”
“Speaking of which, have you received any word from them?”
“Negative. I can sense that they are still alive. But something appears to be blocking any verbal communication between us.”
The pair of them remained silent for the rest of the trip to the council chambers. Once they arrived, he had Ms. Augustine enter first. To ‘test the waters’, as he put it.
Arawn then gave himself five minutes, to steel himself for the tasks he knew awaited within.
‘The Council. they who create more problems than they fix.’ He thought uncharitably when he entered. Once inside, he winced at the cacophony that awaited him.
When he came to a halt next to the speaker’s podium. No one took notice. That’s because everyone else there in the vast wood lined chambers, Hunters, Nightbreed, and Other-kin, were too busy arguing furiously with one another.
‘Should I call for Security?’ he pondered. Then he observed a dominance display between a Goatman and a Wendigo, that had already resulted in damaged furniture.
‘Or perhaps a SWAT team instead?’ He smirked as he raised his arms and waved them, to get the attention of everyone there. When that didn’t work, he tried clapping his hands, and then stomping his feet.
‘Not working.’ He frowned.
Gritting his teeth with frustration, Arawn resorted to something drastic. Activating both his Blast-Punch and his Shield-Buckler, he then brought both his hands together over his head.
The result were, in his opinion. Both dramatic and satisfying, as the discordant mystic energies came together in an unignorable. ‘Thunder & Lightning’, (very-very-frightening) show of light and sound that reverberated into the furthest reaches of the chambers.
As a result, every head turned and faced him. Their conflicts, momentarily forgotten.
A moment was all he needed.
“I Thank You All for Attending!” Arawn uttered commandingly, his voice echoing in the sudden silence.
When he lowered his hands. He noticed that his fingertips had developed a number of small fires. He lifted them to his face and casually blew them all out, one by one, deliberately ignoring the surprised stares from afar.
Absentmindedly, he began wiping his hands on his jacket, staining them with carbon black. Off in the wings, Ms. Augustine winced.
“Will you please be seated!” he didn’t ask. At first, none moved. But as he continued to stare balefully, one did. Slowly, then at an ever-increasing rate, every other member of the Council sat themselves down.
Many only did so after giving their respective foe an angry glare, along with the occasional muttering under their breath.
“Now!” he began, as he started slowly walking back and forth across the Council stage. As he did, he could feel every set of eyes following him, including those who had an ocular equivalent.
“I am aware that all of you are tired, and ill-tempered from having to deal with the necessities of the last day and a half.” He continued.
“As am I!” He paused. “
I have been up for most of that time, dealing with the various State, Local, and Federal disaster response teams as best I can manage.”
“Since I still need to attend to them, I will attempt to be succinct. Please restrain any of your questions that you have. Until after I have laid out the facts as I know them.” He stated as he made a gesture to someone in the wings.
All heads turned to view the one who flew out. She came to land on the podium next to Arawn. Who then bowed to her and nodded his thanks.
It was Stinkerhell, the proto-gothic Leanan Sidhe. A fey with the gift of discerning truth or falsehood.
 Arawn had had the forethought to request her presence in an effort to forestall the inevitable charges of falsehood.  Off in the wings, Artemus’ eyes flared angrily with frustration. Catching it, Arawn smiled to himself.
“Yesterday,” he began once more. “Friday, April 29th, 1988. The Iron Foundation, and by extension, the United States, suffered its deadliest terrorist attack since 1973, in which 45 people died.”
“Undoubtedly, you have heard the same information from the various local News Media. Soon, with their help, I will make an official statement concerning our own dead and unaccounted for.” Arawn sighed regretfully.
”Of which, their numbers are now nearly twice the death-count of the 1973 terrorism deaths.”
“Unfortunately, our suspicions have been proven to be true. As I have just received word that Grendel and his factions, have claimed responsibility for yesterday’s attack.”
After he finished saying that, nearly everyone in the chamber jumped to their feet, or equivalent. Then began to shout once more, demanding many things heatedly.  It took Arawn several more minutes to get them to quiet down. Eventually they did, and he was able to continue.
“Their attack was ultimately thwarted by the efforts of our Security Forces, including the all-volunteer Iron Guard, and the newly hired Illuminatis Squad. Nearly all of them, have discharged their duties with Honor and Equanimity.” There were some XXX mutterings at that cryptic statement.
“Now, even though Grendel managed to escape like the cowardly cur he is. As before, he left his own behind to deal with the consequences of his actions. Luckily, this time we managed to capture some of them alive.”
“I hereby request that both the Hunters, and Nightbreed. Please try to restrain themselves from enacting revenge upon them. Or, at least until such time as those captured have been properly,” Arawn paused meaningfully, “’debriefed’.” He finished.
A good portion of Arawn’s listeners smiled humorlessly then. Even though he had included Hunters in his plea. All there knew that it was the Nightbreed in particular, he was referencing.
“Now, to continue. Rescue operations are proceeding apace, as aid continues to flow. Our human victims are in the process of relocation to the various surrounding Hospitals.”
“While most of the lesser injured Nightbreed, are now either going to, or are at our variegated Iron Field Hospitals. I assure all of you, that they are all now receiving the best care available. Naturally, the worst cases are receiving treatment here, in our largely untouched Infirmary.” He finished, but then,…
“The Cubs! What about the DEAD CUBS!” yelled Artemus. He then jumped atop a desk and once there. He began to howl mournfully Several of his surrounding fellow Lycanthropes, added their throats in solidarity.
Arawn kept  his face a  mask, when h turned to address him.
“I assume you are referring to the Night-Cubs?” Arawn demanded once the howls died down.
“YES!” Art slavered dramatically for all to see. “More importantly, what role your bed-warmer had in them!” He sneered. All went silent in that chamber at the implication. Arawn stiffened and glowered back at Artemus. Just for a second, Arawn saw Artemus’ control falter, and a momentary grin of triumph passed over his face.
‘You do not care about the cubs.’ Arawn judged correctly, ‘You just desire power. I will not allow your insult to slide, lest the Nightbreed be dealt a fatal blow.’ He frowned, as he finally allowed his own anger to surge forth.
Suddenly, Arawn’s eyes blazed white with a furious argent fire. Simultaneously, he extended one hand, claw-like, in Artemus’ direction. He then closed his hand around nothing, and lifted his fist up.
As he did, Artemus let out a surprised ‘Yip!’ when he realized that he couldn’t move, and he was levitating up into the air! He tried to struggle against his invisible bonds.
Little good it did, despite his enhanced werewolf strength.
Arawn casually drew the Lycanthrope through the air towards the stage, to a stop next to him. Then, surprisingly, he gently let the Were go, a foot high off the polished wooden floor.
Artemus stumbled as his hind paws struggled to find a purchase on the polished wood floor. Which elicited a round of mocking laughter from the chamber.
 It was at that point, that Artemus realized that he might’ve pushed Arawn too far. However, he knew he couldn’t back down now without serious consequences.
He lowered himself into a crouch, arms akimbo, bared his teeth and claws and raised his hackles in a challenge.
As Arawn stared back up at the much larger werewolf, he snorted derisively. He stepped up closely to Artemus, bared his teeth and growled as best he could.
In response, Art swung at him with the claws of his right paw at full extent.
If Arawn had been a mere human, his head would’ve been taken off. Since he wasn’t, something different occurred.
Moving rapidly, Arawn stepped underneath that arm, close to the Werewolf’s body, then shoved the heel of his right hand up under Art’s jaw. This knocked his head up towards the ceiling, distracting him. Simultaneously, he dove underneath Art’s left arm, then circled himself around that paw, and firmly took ahold of it with his left hand.
Continuing his spiral, he lifted Art’s forearm along his center and then extended Art’s elbow out as if he were casting out a fly-fishing rod.
Before another second ended, Art found himself surprised by the taste of the wooden floor, as Arawn forcefully shoved his face into it. Yet, Arawn still wasn’t done.
He then knelt by the shoulder of the now flattened Werewolf, and extended Art’s arm up and out-preventing its use. Then he transferred that paw and locked it into the crook of his elbow.
Arawn hesitated for only a moment, to insure he had a secure hold on the arm of the now vainly struggling Were.
Then calmly, he set his weight along his hips, and twisted himself rapidly. This caused Art’s arm to twist painfully beyond it’s normal extension. Until the Werewolf started to howl in agony.
For a moment, Arawn considered ending the display there and then.
‘Bed warmer?’ he remembered angrily, and continued his twisting motion until all there, heard the sound of Art’s shoulder and elbow, dislocating noisily.
Artemus let out an agonized baying then.
“YIELD!” Arawn roared over the much louder sound of Art’s pain-filled yelping. Artemus began kicking and clawing at the floor with the rest of his paws in a futile effort to get away.
After a patient moment of no reply, Arawn began to twist himself further.
“I YIELD!” Artemus cried suddenly.
Arawn let go of the Were’s arm, casually stood up then walked around the prone Werewolf. He stared down at him expectantly.
Artemus, seeing him, rolled over to expose his belly and neck to Arawn in complete surrender.
‘Well that should take care of him for a short while.’ Arawn thought with satisfaction, as he deliberately presented his back to Art.
He stepped forward and faced the Council chamber as he smoothed out his clothing.  Behind him, Art painfully got to his hind paws and quietly bowed his head towards Arawn.
He then crouched down, to await patiently the time it would take for his arm to heal.
“NOW.” Arawn began as he looked out over the collection of shocked Hunters and thoroughly cowed Nightbreed.
” Where, were we? Oh yes.” Arawn breathed.
“Lady Mara’s involvement concerning OUR children.” He emphasized as he frowned at them all.
“Of the twenty-six Cubs who were either partially or heavily injured, by the explosion in the Main Atrium. And or the subsequent scurrilous attack from the squad of Grendel’s goons,,..” He paused and then wilted.
“Yes, I am truly saddened.  Saddened that I have to say, that two of them have indeed succumbed to their injuries.” He finished. Right then, every Nightbreed in the Council bent their heads, or equivalent, and let out a respectful dirge.
After a moment, Arawn joined them as best he could. Once the howls concluded, he was pleased to see that no few Hunters had joined in as well.
“Now, to answer Artemus’ libelous accusations.” Arawn began, breaking the silence.
“Whether or not Mara and I are lovers, is irrelevant. However, for the record. She and I have not now, nor ever have we planned to do so.” He finished and looked meaningfully at Stinkerbell. She caught his look, and began bobbing up and down in the air for all to see. Affirming that he’d spoken truthfully.
“FURTHERMORE!” he bellowed as he raised a finger for emphasis. “LADY MARA LILITU! Our,…” Arawn paused suddenly, unsure of what to say next.
‘What would be an appropriate sobriquet?’ he pondered quickly. But nothing came to mind. Then, just as he was ready to move on, he noticed Juanita was in the audience. She was staring back wide eyed, at him waiting expectantly. He felt a sudden inspiration.

“Our,… Iron Maiden,…!” he stated, then his face froze briefly, ‘Where did that come from?’ he asked himself. Nevertheless, he pressed on.
“Is the primary reason why most of our Cubs are recovering in the Infirmary! As opposed to LYING DEAD IN THE MORGUE!” he thundered. Looking around he could see that everyone seemed shocked by that revelation.
“Hear My Words!” he continued raging. “And I quote: “Let your cry come to me! I will give you an answer, and let you see great things and secret things of which you had no knowledge.” Arawn paused to let his words sink in.
“Lady Mara did indeed go to the Atrium, in search of her adopted daughter, Boto! Of whom you are all aware.” Arawn paused to peer back at the members of the Council. Half looked away with an abashed look.
“Instead, she came across twenty-six traumatized Nightbreed Cubs. I ask you. Do you know what she did with them?
“Did she take her own and leave the rest behind? Like so many else would have done. You know of whom I refer to.” Arawn pointedly spoke to a contingent of Nightbreed. They refused to look back.
“NO!” Arawn shouted. “No,” he continued quietly, “When they needed her, when WE needed her. She stepped up and did her best to bring them all to safety.”
“But not only the twenty-six cubs. But in addition, one of their minders. He who had been shot and left to die by Grendel’s goons.”
“Baucus.” Arawn bowed his head.
“That kindly old Satyr. Everyone knew him. How fat he had become in life. She carried him. She carried him! That little slip of a girl.” Arawn exaggerated. “She carried him.”
“Alas, to no avail. I have also been informed that he succumbed to his injuries an hour ago.”
“But she didn’t know that would happen. She helped him anyways.”
“But that’s not all! She walked through fire! Literally! To bring our cubs home to their mothers.” Arawn paused as he noticed that nearly everyone there looked at him with various degrees of surprise and skepticism.
“Nooooo! I am not exaggerating! For no sooner than she had begun her self-appointed task of herding the Cubs, away from the ruins of their facility. Than did the Atrium begin to collapse around them.”
“She saw the danger of the flaming debris above her. What did she do? Her first instinct was not only to shield her daughter, but also the rest of the cubs. Like a Dragon protecting her brood, she used herself as a shield to protect them.
“I am afraid, that at a great cost to herself.”
“She is now currently in one of the Infirmary’s operating theaters. Fighting for her life, under the personal care of Dr. Wagih ‘Horace’ Sulayman.”
“How do I know this? I personally carried her there. Do you know what else? She was suffering from burns so intense, so painful. That she had begun begging me to kill her.”
“Now, I ask you all, how painful does it have to be for anyone here to desire the same?” He then began speaking so forcefully that spittle began to fly.
“I have not yet received a prognosis from our good Doctor. So, if you do not mind. In the future! Assuming Mara gets to have one! I would appreciate it! If you would make at least a show of offering her some respect!”
Arawn then paused to wipe at his face. When he opened his mouth to continue, was when his pager went off.
Arawn turned away, looked at it for a second. Then he turned to address the Council Chamber.
“Now, If you would all please excuse me? It being an election year and all. It appears that the current President of the United States. Feels the need to act like a leader, for the first time in his misbegotten career.”
“Good day.” He added firmly, as he stiffly walked off the stage and left behind an abashed silence in his wake.
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Many hours later, Arawn looked up at the sound of the Recovery room’s doors opening.
He frowned concernedly at the sight of the obviously fatigued, Dr. Wagih Kosmi Hahn Sulayman; Senior Hunter of the Council, and second in command of the Iron Foundation Infirmary.
“Horace.” Arawn greeted him with a nod.
“Iron.” Dr. Horace acknowledged, returning the gesture. Horace tiredly removed his bloodstained gloves with a snap. Then he threw them into a disposal container. Horace began to yawn repeatedly as he was removing his stained scrubs.
“I’ll be with you in a second. Thank you for making the time.” He said as he started washing his hands at the nearby scrub station. Arawn patiently waited.
When he turned to look at Arawn, his eyes focused on the overly large cup Arawn held in one of his gloved hands.
“Is that,… COFFEE?!” he asked, his eyes flaring hungrily. Arawn, seeing his reaction, handed it over without a word. Dr. Horace eagerly grabbed it and leaned back to guzzle it noisily.
Arawn smiled wryly when he observed two streams of blackened liquid dripping down both sides of Horace’s neck. At one point Horace stopped to breathe.
“Thanks.” He replied. Then he grimaced as the taste caught up with him. “Damnation Iron! Take a little coffee with your sugar?” he complained with a smile.
“Sorry for that. The O.R. coffeemaker is broken.”
“I will have maintenance take a look.” Arawn replied, as he made a mental note. Horace nodded and resumed his guzzling. After he was done, Horace let out a belch and wiped his face and neck with the sleeve of one arm.
Then, Horace froze. He looked dubiously at the coffee cup and over at Arawn.
“Did you drink from this?” He asked warily. Arawn shook his head. “Good, I ask, because a problem has cropped up. There’s an infection that apparently only affects those who were involved with that ‘Gack’ character you fought earlier.”
“Gakkanath?” Arawn asked.
“Yeah that.”  He said. “Any problems?” he nodded, pointing at Arawn’s gloved hands
“Nothing yet.”
“Good. Stay on top of your hygiene, and let someone know if you feel any intense burning. That’s the first symptom.” Horace said, and then went silent as he stared off into space. After several seconds of quiet Arawn sighed.
“Progress report?” he prompted. Horace jerked and then looked at him.
“Sorry. Away with the fairies.” He explained, blinking. “There’s a lot on my mind.” He sighed.
“I need to sit down.” He sighed again as he settled himself onto one of the nearby Hospital-Standard-Uncomfortable chairs. He sighed with relief, when he stretched out his legs. After a moment, Arawn joined him.
 Horace automatically reached into a pants pocket and pulled out a small cardboard container. Arawn’s face froze when he saw that it was a cigarette box.
Then he began to sputter as Horace removed one and put it to his lips, then tried to light it with his Zippo. Despite several attempts, the lighter’s wick wouldn’t catch.
“Damn it!” he complained, “I filled this last night.”
“Horace! You know that smoking is not allo,...” Arawn began angrily, then stopped, when he noticed that Horace was glaring balefully back at him over his cigarette.
Horace made a show of closing his Zippo and putting it away.
“Iron!” He barked back,” With all due respect,…That coffee!” He frowned as he waved the unlit cigarette, “I’ve the closest I’ve come to a meal, THIS DAY!” He growled. Then he forced himself to lean back and take in a calming breath. Arawn glowered in silence.
“Yeah, I get it ‘I need to quit,’..” Horace began again as he licked his lips. “I’m about to commence with the more delicate procedures. So, this is NOT the best time for me to start dealing with nicotine withdrawal!” He snarled angrily as he held up a pair of shaking hands.
Arawn met Horace’s stare with an equal measure of anger and frustration. Both of them were stressed with recent events.
In that moment, Arawn found himself tempted to answer his Chief-Surgeon’s insolence with a Blast-Punch.
Then that moment passed, and sanity prevailed. Arawn looked away first. Horace wilted and looked abashed with his hissy fit. Neither would meet the other’s eye.
Finally, Arawn sighed and came to a decision. He snapped two fingers in front of Horace’s face. Who jerked with surprise, when a small flame sprung from the top of Arawn’s thumb.
Horace peered at it for a moment. The he shrugged and pressed the cigarette end to it.  When Arawn saw Horace start puffing, he extinguished his thumb with a quick puff of his breath.
Horace gratefully took in another lungful and held it for a second. Then he exhaled a big plume of smoke with a heartfelt sigh. Surreptitiously, Arawn activated a minor zephyr spell to carry away any second hand smoke.
“Thanks Iron.” Horace replied gratefully as he began to relax. The pair of them then shared a moment of comradeship. Horace took another drag before starting.
“Before I begin, I need to know.” Horace said, “How personal is it between you and her?”
“That question is not only irrelevant, but unprofessional as well!” Arawn replied as levelly as he could manage. He and Horace stared back at each other for several seconds. This time, Horace looked away.
“All right. I’ll let it go.” He sighed. Then he changed the subject.
“We’ve got several problems with Mara’s current condition.” He sighed. Then he began listing them.
“First. We can’t keep her under for very long. It appears that she has an incredible resistance to anesthesia and analgesics.”
“Second,” he sighed, “When she is under, weird shit starts occurring. I’ll elaborate more on that in a moment.”
“Third, that Gakk infection? She has it, and it’s come down on her pretty hard.
“Fourth, I need to explain to you the situation I’m running into. Her mental stamina.” Horace paused. With an effort, Arawn forced himself to stay still.
“As it is now, in order to get her anesthetized properly. We have to resort to the equivalent of a horse killing dosage. Even then, she doesn’t stay under for long. 20,…30 minutes, tops.” He sighed. “Which isn’t nearly long enough for what I’m about to attempt next. Which is saving her tail.”
“Now, when she is out,…” Horace paused, trying to find the right words. ”You’re not going to believe what I have to say next.”
“Try me.” Arawn replied. Horace snuck a glance at him to see if he was being serious. He was.
“Very well then. In the last hour and a half, I’ve had to reprimand no less than three people for,…” Horace sighed, “Less-Than-Professional-Conduct.” He sighed heavily, and then added. “All three of them, attempted to ‘involve’ themselves with Mara.”
“What? Explain.” Arawn demanded, surprised.
“It was like a scene out of that Penthouse movie. Caligula, I think it was? Anyways, we had to prevent them from having sex with her; While she was unconscious.” Horace sighed, frowning. “One of whom was the Anesthetist herself.”
“It’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen, Iron. There I was, sectioning off a graft from Mara’s wing, and I see some movement off to one side. I look over, what do I see? An orderly pulling his penis out.”
“The next thing I know, he’s trying to maneuver it into her mouth. In front of us all! Yet after I yell at him to stop. He starts acting like he didn’t know what he was doing.” Horace said, and then held up a hand.
“Please, don’t ask me what the anesthetist and nurse were trying to accomplish.”  He sighed and shuddered.
Then he turned to look at Arawn straight on.
“I don’t suppose there’s anything about her, that you feel I should know?” he said as he leaned forward and started to massage the bridge of his nose.
“Well she is a demon.” Arawn began. Horace barked out a laugh as he gave Arawn a quick cold glare.
“You don’t say?” he said sarcastically as he leaned back. He sucked at his cigarette, then blew out another plume.
“I’ve worked on a lot of folks during my time, Iron. From the frailest of humans, to the toughest of Minos. I think I know a Demon when I see one.” He smiled humorlessly. Arawn growled irritably.
Horace casually ashed his cigarette with a thumb. Which caused them to fall to the floor. Arawn eyes flared at the sight, but he kept his peace.
“So, what makes this demon so special?” Horace continued.
“She is a succubus.” Arawn added.
“What?!” Horace chuffed as he turned and fixed Arawn with an outraged glare. “You didn’t think to mention this condition, BEFORE you left her alone with us?” Horace barked. Arawn frowned.
“Her ‘condition’ has been general knowledge since just after her arrival.” Arawn replied coolly. Horace looked at him incredulously.
“If I recall correctly, that was the time-frame I was in South America. I was working with Doctors without Borders. I’d not gotten back for at least a couple of weeks after.”
“Oh.” Arawn replied, embarrassed. “It appears that I need to make some improvements to the Foundation’s Personnel Notifications.”
“You think? Shit!” he exclaimed as he tried to take another drag from his cigarette. Then he stopped when he discovered that it had burned to the end.
“Fuck!” he griped angrily as he threw the butt onto the floor. Then he spitefully ground it beneath his shoe. Arawn’s right hand twitched a couple of times when he saw.
After Horace failed to shake out another cigarette from his box, he looked inside.
“Damn it! I’m out.” He complained as he crossed his arms and began to fume. “No way to get anymore, this time of night.”
Bowing to necessity, Arawn took pity. Horace was about to continue talking, when he noticed Arawn raising his right hand up into the air.
He watched, curious, as Arawn began flexing his fingers. Almost as if he were attempting to grab onto something invisible. Suddenly, a small colorful container appeared within his grasp.
Arawn then silently handed it to Horace. After gingerly accepting it. He was pleasantly surprised to see that it was an odd seeming cigarette box.
His eyebrows bunched together, as he’d never encountered that brand before. He shrugged his shoulders, and took a drag after getting one lit from his now functioning Zippo.
“Sweet Isis, Mother of Horus!” he exclaimed happily. “That is smooth!” he smiled. Suddenly, he felt refreshed, almost energetic.
“Isis? Horus? I thought you were a Copt?” Arawn asked, as he pointed to the cross-tattooed on the inside of Horace’s right wrist. Horace looked at it and smiled.
“I am. As has my family ever since the first century.” He said proudly at Arawn. “That phrase has been in my family since the days of the Pharaohs.”
“Oh.” Arawn replied with a small smile. Horace took a closer look at the box’s decoration.
“What’s this brand name? Coffin-Nails!” he said incredulously as he flipped the box over repeatedly.
“Where in the hell did,...?” he began to ask, and then stopped.
“Never mind! You can tell me later.” He waved his hand to stop Arawn’s inevitable long-winded explanation.
“The other problems?” Arawn prompted.
“Yeah that.” Horace sighed. “Remember Joel? He’s the one who was nearly eaten by that thing in the Atrium?”
“I recall, yes.”
“He’s got a mildly severe case of that infection I mentioned earlier. He’s had it for the last several hours. It’s only recently, that we’ve gotten it under control.”
“The main problem with whatever that ‘bug’ is? It escalates the pain of every injury it infests. Which is probably the main reason why Mara can feel all of her third-degree burns.”
“Great Maker!” Arawn replied, horrified at the thought. He looked down at his hands. ‘Did I infect her?’ he wondered, as he tried to recall.
“Yeah.” Horace said as he grimaced angrily. “Those wings of hers,…” he started, then he sighed and shook his head.
“The only substance we’ve found safe enough to destroy that bug with? It takes repeated applications to be effective, and its use also escalates the pain dramatically. Unfortunately, it’s a choice between soul-killing suffering, or mind-blowing agony.”
“Which brings me to our fourth problem. Her mind.”
“Now, with the strongest analgesics we have. We’ve gotten her pain down to a dull roar. Even though she’s holding up as best she can, it’s still wearing her down.”
“You know I’ve worked on the Terminator version of the Nightbreed, right?” Horace asked, Arawn nodded. “The Pukwudgies? They are the toughest critters I know of. They can withstand pain that would blow a human’s mind. Like a lot of folks, they deal with their pain by pulling away mentally. They just come out every once in a while.”
“But even the Puks can’t withstand an unending stream of it. If their mind stays away too long, their body begins to shut itself down. Eventually, they die.” Horace ended by jerking his hands up in frustration.
“I can see the same, starting to happen with Mara. She keeps pulling away for longer and longer intervals.” Horace then got up and turned to face Arawn directly.
“I need,… NO!” Horace shouted angrily. “SHE needs relief!” he emphasized.  “I have exhausted what 20th Century medical science has to offer. If you have something up your sleeve, Iron. Give it to me. NOW!.” He half-yelled, his eyes blazing.
“Do you?” He begged. Arawn broke eye contact as he pondered about it for several seconds. Finally, he looked at Horace.
“I believe so. Her kind needs to eat Essence.”
“What’s that?”
“Human life force, Soul Energy.”
“Right.” He said half-dubiously, “Is there any particular variety her kind prefers?”
“Yes, Human semen.” Arawn replied with a straight face. Horace paused to give Arawn a disbelieving look. After a lengthy pause, he spoke.
 “I’m guessing that she’ll need more than her ‘usual’ dosage? Particularly since she’s so heavily damaged?”
“Indeed,” Arawn nodded, “how much time can you spare, before you consider it too late?”
“The sooner the better.”
“Eight hours?”
“You’ve got two.”
“Done.”
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An hour later, just as Horace had managed to track down some self-identified asexual orderlies, Arawn returned.
“That was fast.” He exclaimed.
“I was motivated.” Arawn replied as he handed Horace a foot-long grey cylinder. Horace frowned when he took a close look on the cylinder’s label.
“A sperm bank eh?” He smirked. “I wasn’t aware that any were open this late.”
“None are.”  Arawn replied quietly. Horace looked surprised at the implication of those two words. He lifted up a finger and opened his mouth as if to demand an explanation. Then he stopped as he thought about it and dropped his finger as he sighed deeply.
“One of these days, we’re going to have to sit down and have that long overdue talk. I’ll pay for the drinks.” He said.
“I look forward to it.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“I have infused the semen with a tincture of the Black Lotus Flower. I think it should prove sufficient to prevent consciousness on her part, for the next 10-12 hours.”
“I can work with that. Any recommended routes for administration?”
“Enteral should be sufficient.”
“Tube up her nose? I’ll see to it.” He paused, “I’ll keep you apprised of her condition, one way or another.” He promised, as he made ready to reenter the O.R.
“Horace!” Arawn called out. Horace stopped and looked expectantly at him.
“That ‘personal’ question you asked me prior? I will answer it now. I have become fond of her. Almost to the point, that I feel that she is my daughter.” He said quietly. “Please do not tell anyone.”
Horace pondered that. Then nodded once as he silently turned away, all the while thinking of his daughters and what he’d do for them.
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Pain.
Agony.
Suffering.
Three flavors of the same thing.
Mara’s existence.
Occasionally a reprieve.
Human Chemical induced.
Her body adapted.
The pain returned.
Then discovery.
Not outside.
Within.
The quiet place.
Where pain failed
The remainder; tolerable.
Occasionally.
Someone outside.
Asked she return.
Memories stirred.
Pain filled.
She ignored those.
Once or twice.
She answered.
Yet every time.
Pain.
Slower to answer.
Before she would try again.
Eventually.
Understanding.
Don’t answer.
So.
She stopped.
She remained.
Unmoving.
Unthinking.
Uncaring.
Alone.
Safe.
………
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Then, after what seemed a very long time later.
Her safe place.
Changed.
She began to hear.
A welcome sound.
The sound of waves crashing onto a beach.
It was nearby.
‘Odd.’ She thought, for the first time in a very long while.
A seed of curiosity began to burn.
So, she summoned the last dregs of her courage.
Slowly, haltingly, she dared to open her eyes, ready to bolt at the first sign of pain.
Then, she stared in disbelief at what lay before her.
 Ocean waves were crashing onto the beach upon which she sat. A salt-tinged breeze ruffled her silvery-white locks of hair. She felt a slight chill when some of the more persistent waves reached her toes.
‘This isn’t the infirmary.’ Was her first coherent thought.
‘How did I get here?’ she wondered as she looked all around herself, then she looked down.
‘Why am I in a beach chair?’ she thought, puzzled.
Then a note of uncanniness crept into her. There was something, ‘not-right’ about this place.
‘It’s too quiet.’ She realized.
She looked around again, this time intently.
Then it came to her.
‘There aren’t any seagulls.’ She realized. ‘Nor anything else, no sea weed littering the beach. No flies to swat. Not so much as a single shell.’
‘There’s just the sand, the sea, and the surf.’ She realized. After looking up, she noticed something else.
‘It’s daytime. But there’s no sun, or clouds to block one. Just endless blue sky.’ Normally, such a strange set of circumstances would’ve left her apprehensive at the least.
Yet she felt calm.
She did experience a sense of unreality. When one particularly swollen wave that had begun to crest, slowly came to a halt.  It remained poised at its peak, frozen in time. Its droplets hovering in mid-air.
Mara recoiled at the uncanny sight. Yet when she looked around, she noticed that the sound of the surf still continued unabated.
Her eyes shot back to the fixed wave, half-expecting it to do something, anything really. But it stayed unmoving for several more seconds.
Then suddenly, it resumed and crashed noisily in front of her.
‘That. Was. Weird.’ She thought, as she sat and waited for the following wave to do the same. Yet it, nor any other did.
Exploring her other senses, Mara noticed that the pain from her burns remained at a near tolerable level. She frowned with a vague distaste when she found that all of her wounds still seeped pus.
‘No dressings?’ she thought, annoyed.
Then, in the back of her mind, she became aware of an urge.
 She contemplated and examined it from every side, just like Arawn had taught her to. Then she realized what that urge was.
“A decision.” She said aloud. “I need to make a decision, and soon. But what?” she wondered.
At that moment, in her right ear she heard the sound of thunder coming from far away. Yet also, it felt to be too close for comfort.
She turned to her right, and looked down the beach. Then flinched at the sight of what lay beyond.
Off in the distance was the Iron Foundation complex. It was encircled by a raging thunderstorm!
Mara cowered at the almost constant reverberations of thunder. All crackling, and exploding between the dull grey steely buildings. She felt a sense of foreboding, that only more pain and despair awaited her within those sterile walls
Yet despite all that, she was transfixed for the longest while with its ugliness. Until, finally, she somehow managed to peel her eyes away.
Then she observed something to her left. What she saw there left her gaping in wonder.
 “A castle!” she laughed delightedly as her eyes roved over it, taking in every detail. On one side was the sea crashing into its lower flanks. On the other was a pleasant forest that hinted of long leisurely walks and teddy-bear picnics.
The castle itself looked so ancient it appeared to have long ago fused with the rock of the underlying eminence. Overall, it was a splendor of timeworn turrets and salt-smoothed stones.
 “I love it!” she giggled in delight as she got to her feet. Then she stepped forward a couple of paces to get a better look. That was when she started to hear some music mixed with the sound of the surf.
She stopped and tilted her head to hear it better. After she repositioned her head, she realized it was coming from somewhere near the castle’s base.
After she took another tentative step, Mara thought she could hear someone singing in tune with the music.
With another step she began to discern the lyrics.
“I think I’ve heard this before!” she realized. “But from where?” She started to sing and sway herself to it.
“Oo oh oh oh oh oh oh oh.”
“Oo oh oh oh oh oh oh.”
“Come on and dance,”
“Come on and dance,”
“Let's make some romance,”
“The night is falling and the music’s calling.”
“But we've got to get down to the Swing Town,…” she mouthed. Then her eyes widened when she recognized the memory.
“I remember it now!” she cried in delight. “That’s the first song I danced to! It was at my first Galaxy Quest Convention.” She sighed joyfully. Then she noticed something else.
‘My pain! Is it fading?’ She wondered, as she looked at the wounds on her wings. She gaped when she saw what was happening.
“My burns, they’re going away!’” She exclaimed. As she watched, every one of her gaping wounds and blackened burns, were slowly healing before her eyes.
While the larger were in the process of contracting. The smaller ones had already vanished, leaving behind only her original unblemished skin.
Mara danced a quick jig, as tears of relief and joy sprang into her eyes. She then took another step towards the castle. As she did her pain faded almost to nothingness. Simultaneously, the music got louder.
As she looked ahead, she noticed that at the base of the castle there was a large cavity. How could she have not seen it before? There were people dancing to the music within. Men, women, even some Mamono!
One of them saw her and waved invitingly!
“Oh! What a wonderful party!” She cried, “I feel like I could dance forever!” She cried happily, as she prepared to take another step.
“Never!” a familiar voice called out from behind her. She stopped and blinked in confusion.
Before she could do anything, that voice came again.
“You said, Never!”
Mara turned and looked over her shoulder. She was shocked to see who was behind her.
“Boto?”
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