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The Summerland Path "Y caead llwybr, Na Sidhe, Na Dynol, Geni daear, Geni Tir na Nog Medru dro Cyd-rhwng" "The path is closed, no Sidhe or man born of Earth or Summerland will bear memory of the linking roads." -Eremon's curse I. The Gwaun Valley, Wales, Late evening, February. The old one rested her white wispy haired head in the crook of the overstuffed chair and closed her eyes. Kerrdia's cheeks were warmed rosy by the crackling fire in the hearth and as she slowly dozed off into a late winter's nap, her forehead and crows feet wrinkles seemed to smooth slightly with each deeper breath. With the last bit of her consciousness that had not fallen to sleep, she recognized that the dream was on her once more, the dream of her people. 'Oh bother, not again...' Time and again, through her long life, through a myriad of sleeps, Kerrdia had dreamed the bittersweet history of her people. Yet again she watched the tale in surreal detachment, she saw: The sons of Mil swarming ashore the emerald isle, waving their swords of iron and shrieking their war cry. Once more Kerrdia witnessed the battle for Erie surge back and forth between her people, the children of the goddess Danu and the Milasians led by the high king Eremon. At first, stalemate: the sheer body count of the Celtic savages was perfectly balanced by the sparkling magic of the badly outnumber Sidhe. Eremon raised a larger host for each battle, but always the outcome was the same: his men would be repelled and scattered. The Sidhe, however, knew the secret paths to the Tir Na Nog, the land of eternal youth and there they would go after the clash for healing and renewal. Their warriors would return then to Erie merry and whole, as if it had been but a game. Eremon's lust for dominance of Erie grew fanatical and his failure to defeat the Sidhe festered and gnawed him like a disease. In her dream- vision Kerrdia watched his face become red-swollen, twisted. Gripped by mad hate, Eremon prayed to Teutates, the bloody god of war, for help against the Sidhe - - and from his palace in the otherworld Teutates heard Eremon's petition. His answer: to grant Eremon a boon. Teutates would steal the horn that the death god Donn plays for the dead to make them forget past sins and prepare for rebirth. Eremon would be allowed a single sounding. In return, Eremon and his people would worship Teutates above all gods and would follow only his rites of war worship and blood. It was a bargain all too easy for Eremon, for he had sold his soul to this path already. As high king he pledged that if Erie were his, his people would follow the war god's way for thrice a millennium, which to Eremon meant forever. Even now, dreaming these three thousand years later, even now could Kerrdia feel the white hot hatred in Eremon voice as he uttered his curse: "Let no born Sidhe or man remember the way to the Summerland." Then the horn of Donn sounded its dark notes upon the land and the way to the Tir Na Nog closed - the knowledge of the Summerland paths died and vanished from the minds of the Sidhe as the echoes of the notes died away. Then followed the battle of Sliab Mis, which raged from morning till evening and after that the battle of Tailltiu immediately ensued, without rest or reinforcements for the Sidhe. When the weary Sidhe discovered to their horror that they could not retreat to their otherworld refuge, they desperately resolved to scatter into the world. For they knew that even with their magic they must surely die under the relentless crush of the inexhaustibly procreative humans. They determined to live among the humans in secret, in hiding, until a day could come that would show the way back to Tir Na Nog. It was said on the day Donn's horn blew the Sidhe fled into the earth itself to live as fairies underhill. From that day to this, the children of Danu have been a hunted people. That was the dream that Kerrdia had always been damned to dream, the Sidhe's dream of banishment and sorrow. Kerrdia had seen close to eight centuries pass and she guessed she had had the dream hundreds of times. It was a curse and her burden as the eldest of the Sidhe, she reckoned. Maybe she was the keeper of her race's memory. That was what that young feller, Jung, had told her. But for the first time, ever the dream was different; it had ended in ecstasy and joy. For in it, she saw her twin granddaughters leading her people to their deliverance. One would become a great Queen of the Sidhe, a Queen of Power, guiding them through a gathering darkness to a golden future. Kerrdia saw her other granddaughter became a wondrous healer, healing the very earth herself. Even more staggering, she saw that this granddaughter would again find the secret way back to the Summerland. Kerrdia wept when she awoke, but this time the tears rolling down her creased cheeks sprang not from sorrow but from delight. A vision! At last a vision of future hope from goddess Danu. She wept and laughed and danced a spinning jig, until a lone troubling thought halted her celebration cold: she did not have twin granddaughters, but only the one, Cari, whose only extraordinary accomplishment in life thus far was the astonishing number of parties she had managed to attend and the lovers she had taken. 'But there's something beginning, that's a fact,' Kerrdia thought in hope. 'Maybe it's time to visit my granddaughter at Sanctuary. I'll even stop in to see 'Maev the Caretaker'.' Every other year the Sidhe ruling council met and it was meeting next week in the Sidhe's headquarters in New York. Even though as the eldest of the Sidhe, she had a permanent council seat, Kerrdia hadn't cared to attended in years... or was it decades? That was now to change, for a storm was on the horizon and change was in the air. She hated to leave the solitude of her farm, but Roger, her neighbor a stone's throw down the road, should be able to look after the place for a while. After all, he owed her after the way she had magicked his crops over the years so that they were the marvel of the valley, (...or were they his father's crops?... or grandfather's?... the river of time seemed to flow so quickly for her these days...) Kerrdia was elated by her vision and actions to be taken - she had not felt the energy to do anything since her daughter's death decades ago. New York! It had grown into such a fine city. She hadn't visited since the war and was excited to see it once more. She was sad that it was only February, because she quite liked the American sport of baseball and thought it might be fun to see a Yankees' or even a Brooklyn Dodgers' game. II. New York City. Washington Park 2 days later, midnight. BNS Special Agent Samuel "Sammy" Holtz had waited for this moment for a longtime. Stiles had finally gotten around the pin-headed beltway bureaucrats and had given him the unconditional go-ahead. 'Unconditional,' Sammy thought, smacking his chapped lips. 'I like that word. Finally we can start to move on these freaks instead standing around with our thumbs up our asses.' And unconditional meant using the top-secret zombies that 'Herr-Doktor' and her lab geeks had created. 'Herr-Doktor' called them 'Prototype Re-Animated Operatives,' but Holtz knew that was just geek terminology for 'zombie'. Oh, he knew they weren't real zombies; the 'volunteer' subjects had not physically died. Somehow, 'Herr-Doktor' had developed a process to erase the higher cognitive functions of the subjects, effectively turning them into biological robots. They looked creepy as hell for sure, like something beamed directly out of 'Night of the Living Dead' or 'My Brother the Zombie,' all pasty white-faced, red blood shot eyes and black rings under their eyes. They stank something awful, too, because 'Herr-Doktor' hadn't effectively managed to control their 'waste expulsion functions' as she put it. Which meant that they crapped and peed on themselves. And they weren't much for conversation, but who needs that shit anyway? The zombies made the perfect operational muscle; they would execute any order without question or conscience, which made them ideal against the Sidhe freaks, because, no matter what weird magic shit the Sidhe might pull, they would not panic or rather they couldn't, because they were dead, sort of. They were also ideal for stakeouts, standing silent and motionless for hours on end. He peered into his infrared binoculars and smiled at what he saw. The slut Sidhe 'princess' was walking with her latest john towards the park where he and the zombies waited. He had known she would come back to the park and probably at some goofy hour too; he had followed her for so many months now that he had developed a kind of gut-feel for her habits. More than anything in the world, Holtz wanted to capture a Sidhe and take it apart to see what it tick and what could be used against it. Poked and prodded, injected and dissected. He relished the thought of every second of it. God, how he hated these people! "'Herr-Doktor' will soon have her prized Sidhe guinea pig," Holtz voiced aloud, breaking the stillness of the night, "and the poor fuck that's with her, well, he'll just be so much collateral damage. Extermination of these freak-creatures can't come soon enough." He barked the orders to the zombies through the control transmitter - deploy in a circle around the two approaching people, kill the male and bring the female to him, alive. Single-mindedly, the creatures obeyed, moving forward with killing as their sole intent. When they had disposed of the man and brought the 'princess' to him, he would inject her with the special sedative Herr-Doktor had prepared. 'The first of many.' he thought with relish.' Sammy had waited a long time for this and the way he figured, the only thing that could stop him was hell itself. --- Daniel still could not believe what was walking beside him: Her hair, black as night... or charcoal or soot or something like that, except that it seemed to shimmer and shine too... and looked soft as well, somehow... and it cascaded, how he loved the way it tumbled down her shoulders in curls and waves... high, defined cheeks but gentle still... elegant delicate nose, not too long, but perfect... He drank in her every detail and feature, he was intoxicated by... no, he was stinking falling down drunk with her... creamy white skin... red full lips that seemed luminous, that seemed to beckon... ...and saving the best for last, ...her eyes, framed by arched black brows and delicate lashes, her dark hazel eyes, deep pools that when he gazed into them too long, he felt himself falling...his life disappearing in mist... Daniel tried to clear the fog from his eyes. If Cari weren't standing next to him he would have slapped himself hard: he never thought or acted this way; never let himself get this out of control! Daniel had just finished six months of field research at Crater Lake National Park, had a month off before he was due to spend three months at National Park Service Headquarters in D.C., then off to the next stage of his research, which would send him to back to the pacific northwest to the North Cascades. He hadn't known where he wanted to spend the downtime, he had thought he might visit his sister and brother-in-law in Maine, but then an old college chum had invited him to stay at his New York flat while he was on a project in Europe. So he thought he would enjoy the town before he was chained to a desk in D.C. Then, out of the blue, he met her. Not at a bar or show or restaurant, but at a park. She had said something profound to him like, 'Nice day, isn't it?' And he had fallen head over heels in love. Or rather lust - was the best word he could come up with to explain this vertigo. It wasn't love - he loved his job that took into the wilderness, he loved nature with a passion, his mind and soul. No, what he felt for Cari was pure carnal hunger: his body literally craved her. They had just come from his flat where they had made love over and over and still his body could not get enough of her. That was yesterday morning and they had just now come up for air and had gone back to the park for a break... 'A very short break,' he hoped. As they walked along the park path in the cold winter air, something ahead of them appeared so out of place that the sight of it just barely was able to draw his lust sodden mind away from her face. --- Cari Summerfield, High Princess of the United Sidhe Peoples and heir to the throne, was only half certain that she correctly recalled the words her Gran had taught her and was far less certain that, even if spoken accurately, anything would happen from their speaking (other than her appearing rather stupid). But she knew of nothing else to do - she was out of options, it was now, literally, do or die. Cari opened the locket that hung from her neck, rammed her thumb on to the sharp needle tip and spoke the words: "Fram blod ceallian ic hunta grim, Brond, lyft, grund ond brim. hunta riht sculan du faran, ond hwa du wille mec sculan du cunnan ." Then, everything, even time itself, seemed to slow, almost to stand still, giving Cari a long moment to indeed worry that her Gran's rhyme was complete fiction and childish gibberish. "Never use the calling, lass, except when all looks lost..." her Gran's voice echoed in her mind. Being encircled and attacked in a deserted park at midnight by what appeared to corpses controlled by a mortal enemy pretty much fit that bill, she reasoned. At once, Cari was struck by the utter motionlessness that had surrounded all: her would be attackers were frozen statuelike, immobile. The BNS agent, the apparent planner of the ambush, wore a strange expression on his face, of malicious satisfaction twisting to fear, with the beginning of an agonizing "noooo" arrested upon his face. Daniel, her latest gorgeous human dalliance and who stood between Cari and the band of goons, was frozen also. Her eyes flashed briefly over him; lean, well over six feet, with long dark smoky red hair and ruddy complexion; he almost could have been a Celtic warrior that accidentally stepped through a doorway from ancient Ireland. She was most aroused by his dark turquoise eyes, which seemed to shine at times from his bright intelligence. But now his face was fixed with a look that was as incongruous as the BNS agent: half of dreamy expectant lust (after their twilight walk in the park she knew he hoped for a continuation of their passionate gymnastic sexual marathon) and half of utter confusion at the unexpected appearance of this horror. The entire world itself might have stopped moving, it seemed; not a sound was heard, nor even a single breath of wind could be felt - all waited, all anticipated. Then - in slowest motion - a single drop of rich red blood beaded from her thumb and fell - upon the pure white snow of the ground. Later and from a distance, eyewitnesses would describe what happened in that next split second as a freak instantaneous appearance of a whirling wind shear or perhaps even a tornado, accompanied by high- pitched siren screams. Cari, at the center of the fulcrum, saw something much different: dark riders swept down from the full moon-lit sky and rode in whirling circles round and round her. Long-robed men with flowing hair and beards capped by tasseled helmets, holding tall lances with streaming banners; they were like some spectral warriors from a hellish realm, riding terrifying magical mounts. The hooves of their midnight black steeds shot sparks as they struck the air, their eyes glowing fiery red. Following at their heels were shadowy hound-like creatures, fanged and fell. The sound of horns blaring and dogs baying filled the air around Cari; a deep voice cried from the gray-bearded lead rider, "Midden in dem Weg!" with the warriors behind whooping, "Wod! Wod!" in response. Faster and faster this host rode and yelled, until all that she could make out was a blurring of screams and colors. Abruptly, the gray-bearded leader stood smiling before her upon his jet-black horse. He chilled her with a skeletal grin and in a voice that somehow was simultaneously deep and shrieking, hissed: "Blood debt binds us, Princess and we come at your call only, granting your wish... in our fashion." He saluted with a swift raising of his spear, turned his mount with a jerk of the reigns and leaped back into the whirling vortex. Cari shielded her eyes from another sudden burst of furious wind. Then, utter silence instantly followed again and when she moved her hand from her eyes, she saw that she was completely alone in the frozen snowy park: no riders or horses or hounds, no BNS Agent and his posse of zombies and no Daniel. A profound exhaustion now washed over her; she felt as if she had just run a full marathon and struggled simply to remain standing. Cari was only vaguely aware of stumbling back to Daniel's flat and falling face- first onto his living room couch, where she lapsed into a deep coma- like sleep. St. Simian Hospital. 12:05 AM RN Sister Margaret Fannon, a veteran of the Labor and Delivery Room of St. Simian arrived on the 6th floor much as she had for the last twenty-five years, at 11:55 p.m. sharp. She was relaxed, because the number of babies born at time of year was usually low, at the most. At 12:04 a.m. she walked into the newborn nursery; she had heard sounds coming from the room and had hurried to determine their origin. The evening RN, had told her that there were no newborns in the nursery; the two babes born that evening were sleeping in their mothers' hospital rooms. Yet, unmistakably, a health wailing sound was coming from the nursery. What she saw at first enraged her, but later reduced her to confusion: 12 babies wailing in the hospital cribs. 'Why had Patty told me there were none? This had better not be her idea of a practical because it borders on criminal negligence.' She began looking for each baby's chart and became further infuriated when she found none. 'They must all be in this together!' She pressed a call button and Sister Sarah Conner immediately answered, "My I help you?" "This is Margaret. Sarah, how many mothers are staying with us this evening?" "Two, Samuels in Room 4 and Kreikow in Room 7. Didn't Patty tell you?" "Sarah, this isn't funny. How many are staying tonight?" "I just told you, two..." "Sarah, come down here, now!" Margaret barked. Moments later Sarah arrived and from the expression of surprise on her face, Margaret knew that there was no practical joke involved. "Mother in heaven, where did these come from?" Sarah stammered. In the next few moments Margaret and Sarah determined several things: the babies were all healthy, male and had absolutely no medical history or paperwork associated with them. A call to Patty's cell phone produced no clarifying information, for she swore that the room was completely empty just before she left at midnight. Sarah and Margaret looked at each other, bewildered. They had over forty years of experience between them and neither of them had ever seen such a thing. Yes, they had seen the occasional baby abandoned at the hospital by poor or frightened mothers and once it had even been twins, but twelve? All at once?! In the middle of the night? For lack of a better description, these babies 'magically appeared' in the nursery ward at approximately midnight. Finally, Sister Margaret mustered the strength to dial hospital security to advise them of the unexplained 6th floor population increase. Inevitably, a visit from the Police, Press and Head of St. Simian would swiftly follow. 'An easy night indeed.' she sighed. "Umm, Harry? This is Sister Margaret in Labor and Delivery... I need to report a... security incident, I guess... no... a baby hasn't 'gone missing' again. In fact we seem to have accumulated some extras... twelve extra babies to be exact...What? Harry, please! The sanctity of excrement has nothing to do with it. Now calm down and listen..." III. Bureau of National Security facility, metropolitan New York. 8:00AM '...Poor bastard Sammy... What have they done to you?' Morton L. Stiles, Director of the Bureau of National Security, looked through the two-way mirror and observed the man strapped to the operating table. The man was, at this very moment, screaming, "I swear its true I swear! I was abducted by aliens!" He turned to Dr. Schmidt, head of Bureau research. "He has been sedated?" "As much as is prudent, Mr. Stiles." was her efficient response. Competent, efficient, blond, that's what he liked about 'Herr Doktor' as she was known at the facility behind her back. "Wow. And he's still yelling at the top of his lungs. Have you been able to determine what has happened to him?" "The ravings of a lunatic I am afraid. He speaks of being transported with others by aliens to some undisclosed location where he claims extensive genetic experiments were conducted. If his ramblings are to be believed, these experiments involved age and gender reassignment, followed by, what I am sure is standard in these cases, some events of intercourse." "He's claiming he had sex with aliens?" Stiles furrowed his bushy white brows in consternation. He had placed Holtz in charge of the Sidhe tracking unit of the BNS because Holtz was his best man, a ruthless pit bull. Seeing him reduced to this was an immeasurable setback for the Bureau, especially since they were finally on the cusp of achieving the upper hand against the Sidhe. "No. He has not claimed that. He is claiming he watched the aliens have intercourse with another of those apparently 'taken'." Stiles silently stewed, 'Great, now my best agent has developed a voyeuristic fetish for watching aliens have sex with humans. Could this get any worse?' Both he and the doctor knew without question that the Sidhe were behind this, they had seen 'the unexplainable' occur in connection with the Sidhe race too many times to think for a moment there could be some other cause. The scale and blatancy of this incident surprised Stiles, however, because the Sidhe's modus operandi had always been to strike subtly, covertly. This capturing and torturing of an agent was a first. 'Maybe they realize how close I am getting and this is a tactical shift to confrontation,' he considered. 'Perhaps there is mileage to be had by claiming the Sidhe have breached the Co-Existence treaty...' "It is most annoying this delay and most intriguing." the doctor stated somewhat enigmatically. "Uh... what? How so?" Stiles answered, startled from his ponderings. "Agent Holtz was scheduled to have delivered a Sidhe subject for experimentation last night. As you know, we utilized twelve subjects from our sub-animation project to assist Holtz in procuring the Sidhe experimentation target. It was thought that such subjects would be useful in that situation because they were less susceptible to Sidhe metaphysical influences.: 'They would be less susceptible to Sidhe magic because they were dead zombies' thought Stiles. 'Universal Soldier' is not as far away as the average Joe might think,' he proudly reflected. "Agent Holtz and I spent several months developing a comprehensive and exhaustive experimentation procedure for the proposed Sidhe subject. Agent Holtz had demonstrated particular ingenuity in constructing the testing regime..." 'That's because Holtz despised and feared these bastards,' Stiles mentally interjected. "...and now, as you see, we have Holtz raving about UFO abductions, we are completely missing the twelve reanimation subjects that accompanied Holtz and we do not have the Sidhe target to begin the experiments." "Okay, first things first. We MUST find those twelve zombies... "Prototype Sub-Animated Operatives, Sir," Dr. Schmidt corrected. "Err, yes... we must find... uh, them... immediately. We cannot afford to have them fall into the wrong hands and I needn't remind you that that Project Voodoo - um, sorry, the Sub-ah, animation project, was completely unauthorized. I do not wish to have to explain this to the Congressional oversight committee. Do I make myself understood?" "Yes sir, completely. We will place their retrieval as priority number 1." "Very well, Dr. Schmidt..." "But sir, if I may." "Yes?" Stiles replied with a twinge of annoyance. He thought he had finished with Herr Doktor and his mind had already begun focusing finding his administrative assistant, Sher, to set up an urgent phone call that needed to be made. "We have the team fully assembled to conduct the experiments and I hate to disband them. Holtz had to pull some strings to grab several of them from the projects they were working on." "It is unfortunate, but since we have no test subject, I do not know of a fix for it." Dr. Schmidt excitedly produced from her clipboard what looked to be an x-ray. She quickly explained, with what approached passion for her, that it was a Kirlian photograph and that the energy spectrum surrounding the subject of the photo was positively indicative of a Sidhe energy spectrum. "Interesting, Doctor, but I fail to see the relevance..." "...excuse me for interrupting, Mort..." 'She must really be excited! Stiles mused, she never calls me by first name, let alone my nickname. Was Herr Doktor on the verge of an orgasm, perhaps?' "...but it is relevant, because the photo subject is Holtz and his readings are almost off the chart." "WHAT!? Do you mean to say that Holtz has been turned in to one of them?" "Without a doubt, the blood tests indicate he has been changed somehow into one of that species. I expect the DNA tests will confirm." "That is NOT possible, is it? How can that be?" "I don't know, Mort, but I'd like to find out; the possibility that humans may be changed on a genetic level in to Sidhe alters everything!" was Dr. Schmidt's almost breathless response. It now dawned on Stiles exactly what the good doctor was asking. "You'd like to conduct the Sidhe experiments on Agent Holtz." "The team is assembled. Please, Mort. I have never asked for favors, but this would be most stimulating and enlightening. Clearly something profoundly significant has been done to his body and perhaps his mind and if we could determine the nature and extent of this metaphysical phenomenon, it is certain to reveal extensive knowledge about the powers of the Sidhe, their strengths, their weaknesses... The experiment regime would disassemble him physiologically and psychologically in a way that is almost guaranteed to advance our understanding by leaps and bounds." "Hmm. I'm sure Agent Holtz more than anyone would want to advance the cause against these... Sidle abominations... So..." Stiles opposed the Sidhe even more than Holtz. Indeed, for Stiles, it was a life's obsession, a personal crusade. But while Holtz despised the Sidhe by a kind of racial hatred, Stile's opposition was more fundamental: he could not accept the proposition that something potentially existed outside of the laws of physics. He could not and would not accept the fact of magic. He wanted the world returned to the way it was before he chanced to learn of the Sidhe's existence some fifty years ago when he was a fledging FBI trainee. He wanted his neat orderly, reliable world returned and to do that, either the Sidhe would be controlled or they would be eliminated. So, while it was true that the United States government had secretly signed a Co-Existence treaty to end the almost public war that had erupted between the Sidhe and a particular government agency led by J. Edgar Hoover, Stiles regarded the document as merely an inconvenience that prevented him from openly capturing or exterminating them. He simply would not tolerate the co- existence of a supernatural race with mankind. He was a lifer with the US intelligence agencies and had devoted nearly all of his half century of service to this goal. Now that he was in his seventies and well past the mandatory retirement age, he was running out of time and was more motivated than ever - he would use ANY means at his disposal to advance his ends. And now Holtz had become a means... "...conduct the full menu of planned experiments on Holtz and keep me updated on your progress. This could be a watershed event for us! We've got to figure out what was done to him, how it was accomplished and how we may use it to our advantage. In the meantime, I will authorize further attempts to procure the original target." "So we could have TWO subjects? This is FANTASTIC news!! We would use one as a baseline and..." 'My god, she IS going to orgasm!' thought Stiles, as he tuned the doctor out now and prepared to leave the lab area. He took another long look at Holtz before he left, Holtz was still struggling against the straps and yelling something about alien probes. 'Probes' Stiles thought, as he slowly shook his head. 'He soon will know all about probes... Poor bastard Sammy...' IV. "Sidhe Sanctuary" 54th floor Woolworth's Building NYC 8:15AM The man in the crisp gray flannel suit frowned as he hung up the phone and returned his to the website displayed on his computer screen. He slowly rubbed his temples as he tried to piece together the puzzle that confronted him: click. "Interesting... a freak tornado in Washington Park at midnight under a cloudless sky..." click. "...twelve newborn babies mysteriously 'appearing out of thin air' in St. Simian's newborn nursery..." He looked down upon his notes from his previous phone calls, "Hmm... that worm Director of the Bureau of National Security accusing us of breaking the Co-Existence Treaty by a carrying out a prohibited magical attack upon a BNS agent... threatening a public investigation and punitive measures..." "And, best of all... a doppelganger of my beloved has appeared in the apartment of her latest human boy toy..." "Ah... hmm, that about covers it, although it is still early yet," He checked his gold Rolex wrist watch - "only the unholy hour of 8:00 AM." A door to the heavily oak paneled office opened and in walked a tall thin elderly woman, whose face was worn with wrinkles and head topped by flowing fine white hair framed by a translucent purple scarf. She wore a dark plum floral print dress with a hem falling just above the ankle and what appeared to be comfortable black oxford shoes on her feet. Carrying a steaming coffee mug in each hand, she first set one mug on the dark-wooded desk in front of the man, then sat in one of the deep burgundy leather chairs in front of the desk, cradling the mug with a hand grasping its handle, the other under its base. "Troubles Mr. Sheen?" Mr. Owain Sheen, Head of Security and Defense for the United Sidhe Peoples, grabbed the coffee mug the way a drowning man would grab a life preserver. "Ahhh coffee. You are truly a queen! My eternal thanks, Kerrdia, I had heard something of your most unexpected visit to our fair city." Kerrdia smiled at this for a couple of reasons - first, Owain was technically correct in referring to her as 'Queen', - Kerrdia Summerfield had been the Sidhe Queen but had stepped down from the throne some centuries ago to permit her daughter Rhiannon to succeed to the crown. Rhiannon had ruled until she was killed in the conflict with the humans that eventually led to the Co-existence treaty some fifty odd years ago. It has also led to the installation by the Council of her niece, Maev, as a caretaker Queen until the Council ruled that Rhiannon's daughter, Cari, was fit to ascend to the throne. Kerrdia was also amused by Owain's feigned surprise at her arrival. His counterintelligence and espionage talents were world class, skills for which she had handpicked him to be head of security over one hundred years ago. She knew, too, that he was aware of the exact moment she had stepped off the plane at JFK and perhaps had known she was on her way here even before she had left Britain. After a lengthy draw upon the mug's contents, Owain placed it upon a desktop coaster and sighed, "But to answer your question, 'all hell broke loose,' last night, to quote your beloved Mr. Milton." "It was more of a one way infatuation really, the ponderous John Milton absorbed in the penning of Paradise Lost and me hanging on his arm and his every word. But that is ancient history." With life spans that could reach a millennium, when the Sidhe talked 'ancient history,' they truly meant it. "I'll save you the trouble of diplomatically asking 'after a fifty year absence, why the hell is she here?'" Kerrdia offered. "Something fabulous, something strange is starting to occur, Owain. I suspect from what you have learned this morning, it may have begun already. I dreamt it several nights ago and last night I felt something... powerful... enter the world again. I've had a dream vision, of a time of great fearfulness and unimaginable hope..." Kerrdia searched the words: "Um, omens, portents..." "You felt a tremor in the force?" Owain said with hint of a grin. "I have never known the like of it and never covers a long time for me. A long long time." Kerrdia sighed wearily. Owain could not tell whether Kerrdia's sigh related to the events of the previous evening or whether she was simply exhausted. It struck him now just how aged Kerrdia was looking. After a moment, though, her energy seemed to return and she continued: "Amon felt it too - it was quite a sight to see, our all powerful wizard, giddy, literally giddy as a school boy this morning! We both experienced... a burst of enormous magical energy... I have never felt such a massive surge." "Now, as you know," Kerrdia continued, "by fortunate or unfortunate coincidence, the full council is due to convene its bi-annual session this very afternoon at 2:00 P.M. in the Sanctuary Main Chambers. Amon has advised me that (Here Kerrdia made her voice go low in mock Amon tones.) 'Whatever petty items were on the council's agenda are now to be superceded, ex officio. We must now understand what has occurred and react to it.' And so," her voice returned to its normal pitch, "I am here at the office of my favorite Sidhe security chief, seeking answers." Owain's allegiance was ultimately to Kerrdia, regardless of the current crown holder and Council power blocks. She had installed him into office and no one dared to risk the eldest Sidhe's ire to remove him. Plus, he truly and completely loved Kerrdia's granddaughter, Cari and one day, when she had finished her damnable Sidhe wild phase, hoped to be her royal and sole consort. So, on multiple levels, Owain knew full well the prudence of staying on Kerrdia's good side. He answered her crisply: "Would you like to hear my reconnaissance report of the extraordinary events of the past night, such as I currently know them?" "Why yes, Owain, yes I should like to; I did not travel to New York for the first time in half a century to walk blind into what now has become a pivotal council meeting. Exactly what 'hell' did break loose last night?" Owain recounted the events that he was aware of: A metaphysical or psychic disturbance that occurred at approximately midnight, of such force that every Sidhe that he had contacted this morning reported they had felt it powerfully and intensely. At apparently that exact same time, several 911 calls were made to report seeing a gigantic black tornado appear in Washington Park, although weather reports revealed that it had been a completely cloudless frosty February night. Also at that same time, another 911 call revealed that 12 babies mysteriously appeared in the newborn nursery of St. Simian's hospital; a story that, no doubt, will attract national and international media attention. Further, Director Stiles of the BNS had called Owain early this morning to lodge a formal complaint under the Co-existence treaty, claiming the Sidhe conducted an unprovoked attack on an BNS agent and either stole or destroyed unspecified government property. "And finally, your granddaughter..." Owain paused, "...something... um... bizarre, may have happened to her..." Kerrdia swiftly leaned forward, looking directly into Owain's eyes with laser beam intensity: "Go on..." "Relax, I have spoken to her. She is fine. Doubly fine, apparently." Tension drained from Kerrdia's face, "That is well. But why are you speaking in riddles about her condition?" "Because I do not know the full answer myself. The phone line was not secure and for once she followed protocol and spoke guardedly. But she clearly communicated that something extremely odd occurred to her last night and her voice was shaking. All she would tell me was 'I've met my double! She is here! What do I do?!'" "Met her double? She said exactly that?" "Yes and I have no idea what it means. I have ordered Lucia to pick Cari up and anyone with her at her... human boyfriend's flat..." Owain paused after he spat the last phrase in disgust, "and immediately delivered here." "Excellent... met her double... that is good news..." Kerrdia's voice trailed off and Owain noticed that her eyes seemed to glaze slightly, as if she were viewing something different than what was before her. Then he saw her eyes and features snap back to the present, hyper- focused and determined. "No one other than Lucia must know of this. I will tell only Amon. This is critical, Owain, INVOLVE NO OTHERS!" "Yes ma'am!" She nodded, satisfied, "And, between now and the council meeting, you and I must gather every scrap of available information." "No stone shall be left unturned. I must qualify this though, by again telling you plainly that I have absolutely no idea what is going on! Were the possibilities limited to matters of human espionage and political machinations, then the task would not be daunting. Certain channels could be contacted, which would lead to other channels that would eventually lead to the answer. We, however, are dealing with a magical event of seemingly extraordinary scope and so, unlike Mr. Sherlock Holmes, in our search for answers we do not even have the luxury of eliminating the impossible! And we have now only a few hours to sort matters out!" "Oh stop whinging, Owain! Any jack of a Sidhe can handle human intrigues. But it was for something like this that I picked and groomed you to be in charge of our people's safety and security, Queen Maev's wishes notwithstanding. Time for you to earn your pay. " She smiled slightly, "Now, I want to see my granddaughter and this... double, um, on the double." V. Interlude. "...I know that this is not our usual contact time, but events did not go as planned last night... "...yes, well... something went wildly wrong, to say the least, although we have no idea what. We believed we had calculated every variable but... "...yes, that WAS the deal, to make your 'Princess disappear,' but... "...NO! NO! I SWEAR we are not trying to double cross you, it's just... "...uh yes, we plan to try again, as soon as we understand exactly what went wrong... "...but I... but... no...yes... um, no... "...you'll just have to manage the Council as you always do... "...yes and let me know when another opportunity presents itself and we will move quickly... "...I will, personally... we WILL not fail again..." Director Stiles clicked the cell phone off and busily began jotting follow-up sticky notes. VI. Sidhe Sanctuary - Security Wing 12:10PM The old wizard paced back and forth in the large security cell that Owain had directed them to, his long dark blue robes swishing the floor with each step. "You somehow managed to unleash the magical equivalent of a mushroom cloud on the world, Princess." He leaned forward now so that his face was directly in front of Cari's, "You will tell me everything you know about this." "Must I again? We only have a couple of hours before the council starts." Cari looked to her grandmother for support, but saw from the eldest's hard gaze that she would receive none. "Now, once more from the beginning," Amon continued at high pitch, "you say that twelve zombie humans accompanied this NSB agent Holtz? By 'zombie' I assume you mean they were dead. Please explain how you knew this and exactly how could such a thing be accomplished?" "Well, they looked dead for one thing. They smelled horribly. I tried to sense their thoughts and I couldn't..." "Magister Mannan tells me that you rarely attend training classes." Amon cut in, "You haven't heretofore excelled particularly in the magical arts, Princess," "We may wish to revisit that thought in a moment, cousin, but for now, continue with your questioning..." Kerrdia enigmatically interjected to Amon under her breath. Amon arched a bushy white eyebrow in curiosity, but said nothing as Cari answered him: "I may not have demonstrated exceptional 'talent', but I at least have enough to sense when someone is alive." "But then, how were they moving if they were dead?" "I don't know and what could this matter? Clearly this NSB agent meant to hurt me; he had ordered those... things... to attack me and my friend and..." "This 'friend' of yours, where is he now? He was witness to the entire event? Is he dead? He was not, however at his apartment where you... and the other... were picked up and has not returned. He must be brought here for questioning." Owain demanded. "Look, I don't know where he is, but surely this is not germane to..." "He possesses knowledge that may be helpful to the Sidhe and also possess knowledge that if learned by others may endanger the Sidhe. We may need to take appropriate actions to ensure that knowledge does not find its way into the wrong hands." "You mean kill to him? I knew you were a jealous lover, but this surpasses all reason, Owain!" "The fact that you manage to bed almost every human male or female you say hello to has..." Owain was shouting now, the veins in his neck bulging. He carefully caught himself, took a deep breath and turned to address Amon and Kerrdia. He continued in a forced teeth-gritted low tone: "My... apologizes... Amon, Kerrdia... for losing my temper and for lacking information on this particular subject. I have only learned of Mr. Daniel Dana's involvement in this matter in the last several hours. He has not returned to his apartment and I have little additional information regarding him. Facts gathered quickly at his rather sparse accommodations indicate he is a naturalist in the employ of the US National Park Service. Airline boarding stubs in his trash bin establish that he recently spent six months in the Pacific northwest rainforest, but I do not currently see that such information is relevant. His absence is troubling to me. And while the Princess strove to be helpful in providing information concerning his involvement, her knowledge of him apparently was focused on his physical attributes and abilities and she was unable to provide any leads concerning his whereabouts or history." "I told you, Owain, that my relationship with Daniel was purely physical. He certainly appeared to enjoy himself and I appreciated his good looks, amiable company and ardor in bed. I did not wish to quiz him on his life ambitions or genealogy. Look. I don't know where Daniel is, he just disappeared. But why is this causing so much concern? I was in danger, I called on an ancient power, it actually came, much to my surprise and the bad guys that were threatening me were removed. This was a good thing, right?" Amon leaped in, "But what you brought into the world was wild, chaotic magic, a kind of power that can cause whole cities to instantly vanish. And it only is called by one with Power!" "I must have... ah... skipped... Magister Mannan's lecture on this subject... what exactly is the 'Wild Hunt?'" Cari sheepishly asked. "Many centuries ago," Amon's answered, barely blunting his frustration with her, "the Wild Hunt was often seen and would appear at different times of the year, usually spring and fall, but most often during the cold Yule season. Primitive humans thought of the Hunt as everything from slain warriors riding out of Valhalla, to the hounds of hell hunting for souls. And, although there is a definite intelligence or prescience associated with the Hunt, most basically it is an elemental force of nature, an unknowable and uncontrollable conduit into the world of chaos and destruction!" "Oh please!" Cari rolled her eyes. "Aren't you being just a bit melodramatic, Amon? You make it sound so... so... apocalyptic." "What if I told you that the story of the flood was true, only it was caused by a short-sighted Sidhe and not by an angry Yahweh." "Noah's flood? You can't be serious!" "Never more so. In fact, it was my great granduncle that tried to end an extended draught by calling out the Hunt. He hoped that introducing a little bit of chaos into the local weather patterns would be enough to nudge it out of its draught pattern to allow for rain. A poorly worded request by dear Uncle Adalardo, however, ended with rainstorms lasting for weeks and flooding many areas throughout the entire Mediterranean region. He was very grateful that Yahweh took the historical fall for it. We suspect something similar happened with the city of Atlantis. There is a nasty rumor that the ancestors of Hawthorne clan had a rather large hand in unleashing the Hunt into that disaster. Quite a family embarrassment for them, though they won't confirm or deny a word of it... but I digress..." "So you're saying I unleashed some kind of... enormous destructive evil... into the city? It could have been another 9/11 event or... worse?" Cari paled. "Don't think of this in human terms, Cari. 9/11 was a disaster caused by humans whose sole intent was to perpetrate evil. We Sidhe have not been and should never be slaves to such human dualities - you see, the Wild Hunt is neither good nor evil or sometimes it is both together. It is like a creative destruction - sometimes for new crops to grow you must burn away the old growth." Amon sighed, "I am not giving the subject nearly its due; the Wild Hunt is truly worthy of decades of study. I wish you had taken your studies and training more seriously though, if you did summon the Hunt, then an ignorant or poorly worded summons might well have destroyed us all. I just find it so, incredible, that they came at your call." "Oh, they came at my call, alright, trust me." She shook her head as she remembered the raw energy of the Hunt riders. "Words cannot do justice to what I saw." Amon began pacing back and forth again, wringing his hands in agitation, "But only a Sidhe with enormous talent could summon such Power. For some unknown reason, the Hunt stopped answering our call in the Middle Ages and has not been seen since that time. No one has been able call them for five hundred years! We need to understand exactly what you have done and how you have done it and what it means! First things first. Exactly what did you say and do that called the Hunt?" "I drew blood by pricking the pin of my moonstone locket and I used the rhyme my Gran taught me on her farm when I was a child: 'By blood call I the hunta grim, Brond, lyft, grund and brim.' Amon had the look of someone that had been whapped in the head by a 2 x 4: "You... you called the... Lords of Destruction into the world with that? Our most powerful wizards and witches have been striving for centuries to summon the Hunt back to aid our people and you do it with a nursery rhyme?" "It is a fine rhyme, cousin. I know how terribly your ego must be hurt; you've been writing tomes of invocations for centuries and it was my little nursery rhyme that did the trick. He he!" Kerrdia's eyes were twinkling with delight. Amon shot Kerrdia a nasty look, "And then what happened?" Cari did her best to accurately describe the fantastical coming of the Wild Hunt and its aftermath. Though try to verbally describe the event was vexing both Kerrdia and Amon were completely rapt by Cari's account. Amon whistled, "AMAZING! He spoke to you! Cernunnos actually spoke to you! He is a god, you know." "No living Sidhe has ever spoken to him," Kerrdia beamed with pride. "You are truly blessed!" "But if they are Lords of Destruction, then what have I done? Am I like Pandora? Have I loosed them on the world? What exactly happened? What did they do? What have I done?" Questions poured from Cari, her contralto voice laced with confusion and concern. Kerrdia stood from her chair and walked over to where Cari stood, gently laying her hand upon her cheek. She was pleased beyond reckoning, at both the fact that the Hunt answered to Cari's call and that for once in her party filled life Cari was concerned about the consequences of her actions. At least half of Kerrdia's vision was beginning to make some sense. Cari may indeed have the power and potential to rule. "Be calm love, we shall make sense of this. I reckon I owe it to you to cipher the Hunt's answer to your summons, since my trifling of a curse was what called them. Forgive me if I'm a little rusty on exactly what was in my head when I came up with it." "...I wrote it for my Rhiannon when she was just a wee shaylee... I guess almost three hundred years ago." A memory of Kerrdia's dead daughter as a child bubbled up at the mention of her name; a remembrance of her little one chasing lambs in the field on one of their visits to their farm. Such mother and daughter time alone had been far far too short, even with their longer Sidhe life spans. Kerrdia had been Queen of the Sidhe then and constantly embroiled in the turmoil and monotony of rulership with time for scarce else. And when she had had enough, Rhiannon assumed the Crown and her time was consumed until her murder several decades ago. Kerrdia tried to blink away the mist in her eyes, "s-sorry." She collected her thoughts, tried to straighten her sagging shoulders, then continued: "It was meant to be simple and plain enough for my little babe to learn, you see: "Fram blod ceallian ic hunta grim, Brond, lyft, grund ond brim. hunta riht sculan du faran, ond hwa du wille mec sculan du cunnan." "For those of us not born centuries ago, could you translate it into English?" implored Owain. "It is English, my dear." "Okay, modern English then?" Kerrdia put her hand to her mouth, "Oh, you poor dear, it must be terribly confusing to you! I worded it in the common tongue of the time, which was old English, I expect. Never bothered to update it, because it never worked... until now. But certainly, it means..." Kerrdia paused a moment as she internally did the translation, "From blood call I the Wild Hunt Fire, air, earth and sea. To Hunt's justice you must go and what you will me you must know" "Sorry I couldn't properly rhyme the translation... let's see, if I switched the word order of 'sea' with 'earth' and..." Amon rolled his eyes, "May we please get on with this? We have the council meeting soon and we have so much to consider and decide! For once in you eight hundred year life, forget about rhyming!" "Oh all right! No need to get your knickers in a twist you... you... prose lover! Anyway... the first two lines were the power words of calling, invoking the four elements and claiming blood right. Now, our history teaches us that the Wild Hunt will only come at the call of one with Sidhe blood and..." "Why is that?" Cari asked, "Why may only the Sidhe call them?" "Why does it matter?" Amon snapped with impatience, "and why have you picked now to suddenly develop an interest in your heritage?" "Don't mind him, dear, he's just grouchy because in all of the commotion from last night, he probably hasn't had his Metamucil and so he's missed his daily 'constitutional'" Kerrdia answered, producing a glower from Amon. "And it's a fair question: Our historians are not precisely sure what the answer is, but popular belief is that it is a special dispensation from the Goddess." Kerrdia continued with explanation: "'To Hunt's justice you must go and what you will me you must know.' The first of course, was meant to rid you of whatever threatened; literally, whoever or whatever was before the speaker would be carried away the Hunt." "Now the second part of the charm, what did I have in mind..." Kerrdia suddenly giggled, "I remember now! It was a wee bit of justice I had allowed for, to turn the intentions of those threatening her against themselves." A look of puzzlement crossed her worn face, followed by a flash of excitement. "For example, the 'zombies'. Cari said that this agent Holtz had ordered them to attack and I presume they were told to kill, either Cari's human friend, uh..." "Daniel," Cari offered. "Yes, Daniel or to kill than both. Now, Now, the way I expect that this worked..." "Would be that these creatures were killed, obviously, since that is what they intended." Amon interjected. He paused to consider and a look of perplexity crossed his face. "But something doesn't seem quite right about that...what do we truly know about these so called zombies?" "Ah, that would be my job, as head of security, to apparently know such things as whether the US government has the undead available to do its bidding." Owain interjected. "There is no need for sarcasm, Owain, if you don't know the answer, there is no shame in admitting it, however disappointing it would be that..." "Enough, enough, I do have some knowledge of a highly secret and completely unauthorized BNS project sometimes formally called Project Sub-Animation and more informally called Project Voodoo." "So it's true? The government is... is actually bringing deceased humans back alive in some way..." "I had not realized they were this far along, but the theory, as I understand it, was..." "What tried to attack me last night was no 'theory', Owain!" Cari exclaimed angrily. "No, I expect not, however the theory was not to bring the dead back to life, but to deaden or 'kill' the higher cognitive functions of a living subject so that you are left with a kind of biological robot." "So are they actually dead or just humans that have been reduced to an animal level of intelligence?" Amon questioned. "That's really a philosophical question; according to William James, consciousness and body cannot be defined one without the other. So can a body lacking higher consciousness be said to be alive? Or, further, without the ability to doubt one's existence, does one lose Descarte's cogito..." In a movement so swift that it was almost imperceptible, Amon raised his right arm and from his hand a ball of blue energy formed and flew towards Owain. Owain only just raised his mental shield in time to deflect the charge, which veered into one of the concrete walls with an enormous thud. Owain noted that the charge had not been of lethal force and withheld his counter attack. "I have displeased my lord in some manner?" "One of the few virtues of the human species is its ability to act... they may act evilly or out of ignorance, but humans do act. We, on the other hand, who are visited by the Lords of Destruction after an absence of hundreds of years, will we act on this omen? Will we move decisively to use this opportunity to save our race? Or will we discuss philosophy? Speak plainly, Sidhe and get to the point!" Red faced with rage Amon screamed at Owain, his spittle spraying the air. "As you command. The point is, they are dead in every respect that matters. They are pieces of meat that can be made to walk around and perform rudimentary commands. Is that plain enough... my lord Amon?" Amon calmed, "Yes, to an extent, but, it then connotes a further uncertainty: if the way that the Wild Hunt effectuated Kerrdia's curse was to inflict whatever intent the attackers upon themselves and if these humans were already dead, then nothing would happen to them, correct? How could death be brought to the dead? Isn't that a flaw in the wording of the curse itself?" Amon asked. "True," Kerrdia answered, "death would not be death to something already dead. No. But I think you are not giving Cernunnos any credit whatsoever for imagination and subtlety. Didn't you learn anything from what happened to your Uncle Adalardo? When they answer our call, the Wild Hunt will do our bidding, but often in unpredicted ways... Here, bringing death to the dead does nothing, but perhaps bring life to the dead will..." "Of course!" exclaimed Owain. "The twelve unclaimed newborns!" "Excuse me? Twelve unclaimed newborns?" Amon asked with a perplexed inflection. Cari, too, wore an equally puzzled expression upon her face. "My apologies. At approximately midnight last night twelve babies mysteriously appeared in the newborn nursery of St. Simians." Amon turned to Cari now, "And I believe you said there were twelve of these, ah, zombie creatures that attacked you?" When Cari nodded 'yes,' Amon asked, "And how did you determine this? A guess or estimate or..." "I counted them. I DO know how to count to twelve." "Yes, wasn't twelve your record for human lovers in a 24 hour period?" Owain offered. "I don't blame you, Owain I truly don't," Cari answered smoothly, "you just can't help being who you are - a colossal rectal orifice." "Children!" Amon growled angrily, "Please try to stick to the plot and leave your foreplay for another setting. Now, tell me more about these babies..." "Haven't you watched the news this morning? The story has been on all the networks, both local and national." Amon scowled at this, eliciting an immediate apology from Owain: "A thousand pardons, my lord. I momentarily forgot your revulsion of human arts and media," but privately simultaneously thought 'It's damn inconvenient that the old goat absolutely refuses to turn on CNN.' Owain continued, "This event has captivated the attention of the human populace, both in this country and abroad..." "It takes very little to do so. Bright shiny objects also easily mesmerize them." "Just so, lord. In this instance, a local hospital discovered that at approximately midnight last night, 12 newborn babies spontaneously appeared in the hospital nursery. They are, as yet unclaimed and unidentified." Amon turned to Cari, "And at what time yestereve did you say the Wild Hunt appeared?" "Yestereve... Oh! Sorry for being slow. Last night they appeared at 12 o'clock." "You are certain of this?" "Surprising as it may seem, in addition to being able to count, I can also tell time," Cari answered. "That is because you must keep to such a tight schedule," sniffed Owain. "There are so many humans in the world - you only spend so much time with one lover before you must move on to the next. It would be much more efficient to take them on in groups." "ENOUGH!" Amon barked preemptively as Cari was about to respond. He turned back to Kerrdia, "I agree, cousin. It is quite obvious that these 12 newborn humans were the creatures that attacked the princess and that they were transformed into their current condition by the Wild Hunt executing your little curse. I suspect you have deduced rather more of this? Care to fill us in as to the fates of the other humans that were present? The BNS agent? The lover?" "Patience Amon. And don't fire anything my way or I will have to spank you. Owain, hopefully you have news about this BNS agent?" Owain was startled; he had just received information just prior to this gathering and had shared it with no one. How had she known? He was further startled when she gave him a knowing wink. He shook his head wondering just how far ahead of him Kerrdia was in this. "Yes, I do have intriguing news indeed. I've activated a sleeper at the BNS to get it. Sheryl Miller, an administrative assistant to director Stiles, was one our sleepers. She was not even aware of this; I placed a dormant spell of obedience upon her several years ago that, once activated, caused her to be very compliant in providing information. I have been reluctant to activate it, since she was my best-placed plant and the BNS is uncanny in its ability to shut down leaks. I am able to use my sleepers at the BNS only one time and then that sleeper mysteriously 'disappears'. The gravity of this situation dictated that I use Sher this time." He paused to let the implication set in that Sher likely no longer lived. Cari and Kerrdia appeared disturbed by this, Amon nonplused. "From her I learned that agent Holtz did have plans for Cari." Owain struggled now with his own anger. He walked to where he stood directly in front of Cari and said softly, "They planned to... dissect you... to experiment on you. They have spent months of planning a project researching Sidhe physiology and psychology and you were to be their prize guinea pig... I don't know why they chose you of all the Sidhe..." Owain looked away so that Cari could not see his grief, saying, "If I had lost you, I don't know how I could go on, if I lost you..." "Hush, Owain, hush my love," Cari said, gently laying her hand upon his face, caring only for the sadness of her love and not at all about the horror that had been planned for her by the human Holtz. "It did not happen, it will not happen..." She drew him close in a long ardent embrace. Kerrdia's eyes misted over again. For all of their bickering it was clear that Cari and Owain loved each other beyond measure. Her one regret was that Rhiannon had not lived to see the deep happiness her daughter had found. Amon broke the spell of the moment by clearing his throat: "Touching, however the relevance of this to the Wild Hunt escapes me." Kerrdia's eyes flashed briefly in anger, but she evenly returned: "Cousin, why did you not tell me you needed a healer, I would have left the farm at a moment's notice to render comfort and aid to you!" Amon was genuinely confused: "What? What aid are you talking about?" "The enormous rod that is jammed up your ass must be painful. I'd be happy to try to remove it." Before Amon could reply Owain broke from his embrace with Cari, saying, "He is right, you know, there is more and it is most relevant. Sher told me that something strange had happened to Agent Holtz. He had been changed somehow into and she was quite clear about this, he had been changed in an unknown way from human into Sidhe. She then told me that the mission to kidnap a Sidhe for research had failed, but that the project is proceeding with Holtz as the research subject." Without thinking Cari exclaimed "'and what you will me you must know...'" "You can see the beauty of it, eh? What he intended for you has been exactly visited upon him." Kerrdia shot a crafty smile. Amon nodded his head in real appreciation, "Neat indeed. Truly worthy of the Sidhe. But then, to close this topic, what happened to the human lover? Cari said that he also was taken by the Wild Hunt?" Cari nodded her head in confirmation. At that moment there was a knock at door to the room. "Ah, the ever efficient Lucia here to help solve this last mystery! Come in," Kerrdia shouted." The half Sidhe Lucia, Owain's lithe, platinum blond and all-black satin clad lieutenant, entered the room, pushing a wheel chair. In it sat a ragged female figure. She was slumped over as if unconscious and was restrained by a straight jacket. The woman's long dark disheveled hair completely covered her face. "Bring it closer so that we may see." Owain dispassionately instructed Lucia. Lucia rolled the figure close to where Kerrdia sat. "Remove the hair from her face," Kerrdia ordered. As Lucia did so, Amon emitted a low murmur of astonishment at what was now revealed: a face that mirrored Princess Cari's features exactly. "What is the meaning of this?" Amon asked in astonishment. Owain shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know the meaning of it, only the fact of it. This thing was found by the Princess when she awoke this morning in the apartment of her human friend, the now missing Daniel Dana. An obvious theory is that