Found In Translation free porn video

Found in Translation by Armond *** They are patient. Sparkling. Thrumming. Four perfect platinum monoliths, their faces filled with celestial marks; divine words, of life, of death, of love. They hold a secret, these plates, infinity's key; needing one to come, who, through the simple act of reading, will unlock them. They are waiting. *** 1. Kore "So you are like ...Indiana Jones?" Her broken English was so cute that he resisted answering in his fluent Bulgarian. Her bar maid outfit was pretty damn cute too, even if it was a tourist's version of a tavern wench and nothing close to authentic. Of course, his judgment might have been a wee mite impaired from one too many beers. Or five. "More Robert Langdon than Indy, if you know what I mean." "Ra-bort Laang-don?" "You know, Da Vinci Code? Angels and Demons? Tom Hanks?" Blank brown eyes stared back. "I get you more beer, Da?" "Da, Burgasko; jaden sam," he sighed, and watched her saunter off for more golden elixir. Then he shook his head. "Right, my life tracks a Dan Brown novel, and swine can levitate too." True, his current location was exotic Zheleznitsa, where he had translated a 7000-year-old stone tablet shard. And what could be more enigmatic than deciphering one of the oldest examples of written language on earth? "So what wisdom did the ancients whisper to you? Oh, that's right, twelve bushels of wheat, ten of barley. A freaking grain bin list!" It always ended this way. Dylan's cell phone chimed and he pulled it from his corduroy jacket. "'Lo?" He jammed a finger in his other ear to drown out the rowdy pub. "Margie?! How the hell are you, woman?" He must be drunk; he'd never called his old university mentor 'woman'. How had she tracked him down here? Oh, yeah, his cell phone. Jeez, how many beers had he downed? "Yup, job's all done; fini." Dylan bobbed his head, as if Professor Rutledge could see him from 4500 miles away. "Sorry, a ...project? The Demeter Plates? Never heard of 'em. What? First man to ...what? ...Sorry, reception's horrible here ...hmm? Did you just ask how my ...Ninja skills were?" *** "Does insanity run in your family?" The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them. It smacked of insubordination to be so blunt with 'Mother Juneau,' the Eleusian Foundation's all-powerful CEO. But then, she'd never been asked, well, what she'd just been asked to do. "You forget yourself, Ms Lanthe!" June tisked a crooked index finger when Katherine started to speak again. "Hush, dear, before you dig any deeper. Had I another choice, I would take it. This man is the one person I've found who might perform the task." "Task? What task could be...so important to require ...a... a ...aaarghhh!" Her exploding rage made speaking anything other than the 'a' vowel hard. She charged across the office, ending inches from June's face. "...a violation of a tradition of thousands of years?" The figure Katherine cut unnerved rational people; with wraparound shades, cropped sable hair, formfitting black silk Versace pantsuit, and the outline of a shoulder holster beneath her jacket. June seemed oblivious. "Not a violation per se," the bespectacled woman answered in a prim tone. "We've made exceptions: before his trial, we granted Socrates temporary asylum, and we held secret meetings with Pope Sixtus IV to persuade him to rein in the Spanish Inquisition." "...I didn't know ...you mean we ..." she gave a quick head shake to gather her thoughts. "Fine. But for God's sake, that was a ... what, a Pope, and Socrates? What possible reason could you have to allow this man to-" "-I've commissioned him to translate the Demeter Plates." Though the Eleusians had warehouses filled with priceless antiquities and ancient texts unknown to the world, the 'Demeter Plates' were their crown jewel; four plates, etched with indecipherable hieroglyphs. These glyphs, their dogma held, didn't just recite the words of the goddess Demeter, they were Her divine thoughts. Infinity captured in the finite; a paradox. From the hazy dawn of time, when Demeter inscribed the plates, to today, no man had looked on them. "I don't get it; why does this translation merit the colossal sacrilege of permitting a man to-" "-excuse me for interrupting, dear, but are you blind?" The irony of June's statement wasn't lost on Katherine, as June's milky gray eyes now stared at a place in the office where Katherine wasn't. "We are withering; the 21st century is devouring us alive. We are seekers without a lodestar. We've lacked a literal translation of the plates since World War 2; think how dynamic a fresh translation would be!" True enough; from Katherine's short tenure at the foundation, she'd learned that their last and only copy, a Latin velum manuscript that survived Nero's fiddling and the burning of the Eleusian Temple in Rome, yielded at last to the bombs of Hitler's London Blitz. Katherine hadn't noticed the world ending in its absence, though. And if it was so damned important, why had there been just one copy? "We know what they say," Katherine answered, "our scriptures summarize them, relating the ages of maiden, mother and crone..." Katherine fought to keep her tone neutral, -she did!- but her cynicism bled through. Her distrust of dogmatic scripture started as a young girl when she was force-fed Bible stories; it was anathema to her. What had enticed her about the Eleusian Sisterhood was its realization of true feminine empowerment, (and, to be candid, potential L-word fantasies). She out as much belief in the 'powers' of the plates as she did in the Easter Bunny; the Demeter Plates, for her, were powerfully symbolic; a secret that women alone knew and viewed, for thousands of years. Stale doctrinal screeds, however, she could take or leave. "...and honestly, I see no value in-" "-oh my, just listen to you," June said. "How low have we fallen if we care so little for the grace She gave us? Would Christians or Muslims be satisfied if the Bible or Koran were written in an incomprehensible language?" She continued in a mocking tone, raising her hands to her face. "'Don't worry about the true words of the Savior or the Prophet; we've got the cliff notes, close enough.'" June's voice hardened, and Katherine swore the elder woman's bent spine did as well. "And unlike those texts, Demeter's own hand inscribed our Plates. In this we are favored; She calls to us through the mists of time. Yet, it's 'okay' not to know Her true meaning?" "But why a man? Brilliant women fill the world! There must be one who-" "-Yes, some day, we would find one to do it, but, I have only a few good months left..." Also true; June was losing her battle to chronic kidney disease. The announcement of her worsening blindness and impending death had sent shock waves through the ancient organization. The inevitable power struggles were already under way. "... and I have found one who can do it now. I would so love to see Her words returned to us before I die. Please forgive me for this one vanity, but I believe he merits special dispensation." Katherine paced again. She'd scored high in hostage and crisis negotiations at the Academy, equaling as her off-the-chart hand-to-hand combat marks; she knew when to switch tactics. "How will I protect him? Special dispensation or no, if Cassiopeia's homicidal Maenads find him looking at the plates," Katherine made a meat cleaver chop gesture with a hand "...off come his balls." No hyperbole this; the Maenads were a strident Eleusian faction who, to Katherine's mind, preached misandry, the hatred of men. Last month, her security team narrowly averted disaster when a Fed-X man wandered down the wrong hall, into a gaggle of Maenads. After she'd taken her security role a year ago, Katherine learned that - except for the Inquisition several centuries ago- serious security threats to their organization came not from the outside world. Rather, it was internal strife; prehistoric grudges between ancient factions, that caused the most concern. The current opposing houses were the Maenads, and the ruling faction -under June- the Order of Calypso. The lion's share of Katherine's job description was to prevent open war. Although the Calypsos weren't girl scouts, the violence of the Maenads was dramatically documented; ask King Pentheus, or rather, the ~bloody pieces of him that remained after the Maenads hacked him up~ how vicious they were. If ~they~ found a man in the sacred Archive Chamber... "Let me worry about my dear friend Cassiopeia, Katherine." June started drumming her fingers again. "She's aware of this? And approves? That's hard to believe." June's fingers drummed on. "She understands the importance of the task. As long as we keep the effort clandestine, it won't compromise her position. Thus underscoring the need for Mr. Reese to work with stealth and speed." Katherine sighed; there was no way out of this. So who was this interloper? "I imagine ...to be able to translate the Hymn, he must be ...um ...rather advanced in years?" "You mean, ancient ... like me? Infirm?" As June smiled, Katherine sensed a whiff of ...anger? "To the contrary, he is a young gifted Epigrapher." "Epigrapher?" "Mm-hm," June's head bobbed. "Epigraphy is the study of inscriptions engraved in stone or cast in metal. Professor Rutledge from our New York chapter sings his praises, calling him a wunderkind; he's under thirty and already degreed in Paleography and Philology. A brilliant linguist, too, but his specialty is Epigraphy." "As impressive as that may be..." in fact, it failed to impress Katherine at all, since she didn't recognize half of those study areas, "...I don't see why he merits the suspending of our most ancient rule." "Umm, how to put this," she paused, and a sudden odd look - of what, craving? Katherine couldn't place it- spread across the aged woman's face. "Have you seen, 'The Thirteenth Warrior' with Antonio Banderas? I have a thing for him, you know." No, Katherine had not known. She shook her head, trying to understand how their somber conversation had careened to the creepy subject of the ancient Mother's crushes. "In it, he's an Arab poet that is 'banished to the North' where Viking warriors adopt him. He struggles with their Norse language until, one night, while listening to them around a campfire, it 'clicks' and he understands." June licked her dry lips. "Oh what I would give to be young again; to spend one night with Antonio..." Actually, Katherine ~did~ know the movie -she was a passionate film buff- and she'd thought the scene was a ham-handed plot device. But Antonio ~was~ hot, so she'd forgiven the writers. Katherine could only gape, though, at this frail creature, that for her, had embodied the Sisterhood's fierce nobility. Had the disease ravaged the Mother's mind at last, reducing her to the point of babbling about boytoys? June frowned when she sensed Katherine's pity. "The point is, Reese does that with ancient inscriptions. Rutledge says he mixes translation, transliteration, and interpretation like an alchemist, to produce a living, breathing version of ancient inscriptions. He sees it," she snapped her withered fingers, "and understands it." "Dylan ...Reese you said? What did his background check show? Does he pose any threat to-" "Details." June gave a weak hand wave. "He arrives at our back door at midnight tonight. This is my highest priority, my last gift to the Eleusian, please Katherine, do not fail me." *** "You for sure this the address, Mon?" Dylan shared his Jamaican cabbie's concern; the dark 19th century limestone building gave him a shiver. He squinted at the creepy gargoyles adorning the building; were they staring at him? The effect was 'Illuminati deco,' Dylan thought. And with the clandestine stipulations of the project, he wondered if he was indeed jumping into one of Dan Brown's novels. "Up the airy mountain, down the rushing glen, we dare not go a hunting, for fear of little men. You see, nobody ever goes in, and nobody ever comes out," Dylan mumbled. "What?" "Willie Wonka? You now that part where Charlie runs into the Tinker and..." He was rambling, and his driver must think him daft. Nobody ~ever~ got his movie references. Dylan sighed a quick "sorry," and dug into his wallet. He pressed some bills into the man's hand, grabbed his backpack, and slammed the cab door. When the taillights of the cab faded into night, the Eleusian building grew more ominous. "Buck up! You're the perfect man to tackle Da Vinci Code 3, or the Last Symbol, or whatever it will be called, right?" 'Yeah, right; Tom Hanks I'm not. What had the bar maid back in the Zheleznitsa said? 'Auuu, kolko si hubav! Zheh-nen lee steh?' She'd said his cobalt blue eyes and curly black hair made him look dreamy, but he figured her flattery was a ploy to get a big tip, which it did. It was that second thing she asked - was he married- that gnawed at him. Why ~wasn't~ he married? For all his academic successes and amazing professional accomplishments, he felt he hadn't started living yet; everything was theoretical. His head was either buried in books, gazing at computer screens or sitting in hotel rooms watching old movies. Alone. Always alone. 'This is it, my last field job,' he resolved. 'After this, I take a university position, settle down, fall mad in love, have kids, and ...do the whole picket fence thing.' Okay, that was the biggest clich? he'd ever come up with, he admitted, but he wanted it. He wanted to find ...her. 'I'll translate the 'mystery plates,' roll away a wheelbarrow full of Eleusian cash, and...' The Plates. It troubled him there were no 'Demeter Plates' references in any research resource. Vexing too, were the bizarre assignment stipulations. Best he could fathom, they planned to smuggle him in under cover of darkness, and hide him for the entirety of the project. Rutledge said the Eleusian Foundation -which he'd never heard of either- was a 'gals only club', and some of the members would become -how did she put it? Excitable?- if they knew he was there. Fine; for the dollars they were throwing at him, he'd wear a fright wig and clown nose. That thought put him in a giddy mood, and on impulse, he dropped to his knees, and made an exaggerated genuflect. "Mighty Demeter," he intoned ? la Graham Chapman from Monty Python's Holy Grail, "grant thy humble servant this mystical task..." At that moment, the back door to the Foundation opened. *** The waning moon provided just enough brightness for Katherine to assess him. His hair looked a shade lighter than the midnight sky, his corduroy jacket screamed academia, and his eyes sparkled blue, framed by rimless square shaped -and mercifully, non-geeky- glasses. Why he was on his knees, she hadn't a clue. "Wow, you're a tall one, bet you were a wicked power forward," he said, looking up from the cement stairs. She was a little over six feet, but from where Dylan knelt, she was a giantess ~stunning! beautiful! Amazon! ~ She looked like she could cold-cock him without breaking a sweat. His face reddened. 'Sonofabitch! Two PhDs and ~this~ is the best I do?' He reddened more when he realized he was still on his knees. "Urm ...dropped something and was looking for it," he said, jumping up. Katherine shrugged; his odd behavior amplified her predilection to dislike him. "Some place, huh? Damned if you don't own the whole block. How many floors? Three? Four? Hard to tell with these old buildings." He fidgeted, shifting his soft-shelled backpack from one shoulder to the other. He always stumbled with small talk around a woman he was attracted to -and he was mangling this horribly- so what did that tell him? "This IS the Eleusian Foundation, right? May I ...come in? It's spooky out here at the witching hour. I'm Reese, Dylan Reese," he said, in his best James Bond imitation. When she cracked the faintest of smiles, he went all in. "It's alive! It's alive!" Katherine turned away so he wouldn't see her grin. Once she'd scowled a frown on, she grabbed his shirt and yanked him through the door. "Help me here, Mr. Reese, did you think that quoting 'Frankenstein' -and implying I was the monster- would be endearing?" "Can't blame a guy for trying," Dylan said, flashing puppy dog eyes. "It's a juxtaposition of opposites, you see. Calling you Frankenstein is like calling the Sun dark, or the Sahara a swamp. I mean you are so beautiful that no one would ever-" This bookwormy dweeb was FLIRTING WITH HER? She grabbed his shirt again. "The name's Katherine Lanthe -Ms Lanthe to you- and I am the Eleusian's Chief Security Officer." When she released him, he staggered a half step back. "Here's what I'm not: I am neither bellman, concierge, nor room service. And -let me assure you with 100% certainty- I have no interest in establishing a personal relationship with ~you~." 'THAT wiped the smugness off his face; now drive the point home, Kit.' "And...if you screw up here, I will become your worst nightmare. Are we clear?" "Glad to meet you too." "Are. We. Clear." "Crystal." She wrestled another smile away at his 'Few Good Men' reference. "Excellent. As Professor Rutledge has told you, your stay here is problematic; you've been informed our members will become ...agitated, if they learn of a man's presence, your presence, in our building correct?" He nodded. "Well, then," she continued, "I expect you to participate in our efforts to conceal your visit." "Cloak and dagger stuff, eh? Sure, Rutledge mentioned it. Should be kind of fun." "Kind of fun?" Katherine drew close and growled, "this is not a game; there are those who will rip you apart if they find you." He gulped. She was kidding, right? That 'rip apart' reference sounded too much like a Greek tragedy. "Ms. Lanthe, you make it sound like you Eleusians are like a ...female Illuminati or something." "Honey, we are several hundred thousand strong world-wide, have more money than the Vatican, and have existed for so long that the Illuminati are babes in diapers next to us." "So here's my problem," Dylan said. "I'm well versed in history, anthropology, archeology; other subjects, too, and to be blunt, I've never heard of your organization." She cocked an eyebrow. "Then perhaps, you know far less of the world than you imagine, hmm Mr. Reese?" Dammit, he ~had~ stepped into a Dan Brown novel. "To keep you safe in this ...brave new world you've entered, I must have your complete cooperation. Will I have it?" "Yes ma'am." "Good boy. Follow me to your room." "Sure, but ...I'll still want, you know, red wine at night and a latte in the morning and-" "Latte? I was told you were an expert in translating languages. Yet it appears you have trouble with simple English. As I said, I am not a-" "-Hey! It's in my contract, under 'special requirements'. All I'm saying is-" "Follow. Me." Since her sleek silk pantsuit was ultra form fitting, Dylan complied without a peep, mesmerized as he was by her swaying butt and firm shapely legs. *** Though the punching bag chain protested with rattles and clinks, it was the redhead holding it who absorbed the energy. "Easy, boss, these things aren't cheap," Cara said, steeling for the next flurry of blows. "He asked me, ME, to bring him a latte! My old SWAT mates would be rolling on the floor if they got wind of that!" Katherine unleashed another rain of punches, ending with a kick to the bag that knocked Cara backwards. She held her hands up. "No m?s, no m?s. You're pissed at him, but you're gonna end up killing me!" Katherine dropped her arms; beads of perspiration glistened off her toned triceps. "Sorry; if I didn't blow off steam my head was going to explode." "Can't have that, very messy. I'd have to deal with the paperwork too." Cara said with a grin. She grabbed a nearby towel and threw it at Katherine. "Your 'glow' is profuse, mon capitan." "I don't glow, I sweat." Katherine growled, wiping the towel across her face. A grimace soon replaced the sweat. Cara cocked an eyebrow, giving Katherine her 'what's cheesing you now?' look. "It's this magic plate business," Katherine said, in a groan. While brilliant counter intelligence know-how landed Katherine her head security job, no one at the Eleusian was under the illusion that 'spirituality' was in her skill sets. Yet now her skepticism hindered her performance. Cara, though, had been born into the ancient sorority, descending from a long line of sisters; she swam in Eleusian mysteries. "You know about these damned things; why are they so vital?" Cara clasped her hands together in prayer. "This once, I am asking ~begging~ you to suspend disbelief. The power of the Plates must not be underestimated." "Hmm, yes, Marcus...no one knows its secrets. It's like nothing I've ever gone after before." When Cara returned a blank look, Katherine added, "you know, Raiders of the Lost Ark, the scene where Brody warns Indy about the Ark? Jeez, don't any of you spiritual gals watch movies around here?" "I'm serious, Kit, every 'lifer' here knows the Plates have powers. As kids, we're taught that they were cursed, too, to scare us away from them." "Cursed, eh? Then I must make certain the irritating Mr. Reese has unfettered access to them." When Cara did not return her grin, she lowered her eyes. "Sorry. You know I'm not into superstitious hocus pocus, but I'll try to treat this with respect. It's just ...Cara! I've been asked to be his babysitter! He's doomed for sure, if he asks me for another latte, but not by the plates; I will drown him in a vat of frothy coffee." "I bet; why don't I serve it to him then? At least until Reese finishes? Speaking of, is it time to wakey sleeping beauty?" Katherine squinted at the wall clock. "Yeah, go fetch him; I'll grab a quick shower and then go get June. Oh, and let him know all about his new schedule too; that should be fun." *** "5:30 Mr. Reese, rise and shine." "Whaaa? Gubuaghh waaaay!" Their strategy was to whisk him from his bedroom to the Archive Chamber at 5:45 each morning, minimizing the number of Sisters that could bump into him. "Mr. Ree-ese," Cara called in singsong tone, "you ~did~ agree to cooperate with our enhanced security measures." His first response was unrepeatable, but his response after that was to stumble to his bathroom. Finally, the door opened to reveal a showered and shaved Dylan, laptop clutched in hand. "Hi, I'm Cara; put this on." She handed him a full-length hooded dark robe. "Because...?" "So you don't draw attention." "Are you saying a dark hooded figure roaming your halls won't draw attention?" "Many of our Sisters are robed, so on the off chance someone sees you, it won't seem out of place. It will draw less attention than if you were to go without it. You see, men don't walk these halls. Ever." "Ever?" This was all so bizarre; what the hell had Margie gotten him into? Dylan shrugged and pulled the robe on, mumbling under his breath that it would be easier if he wore a dress and wig. Cara heard him and flashed a wicked grin. "Wow, you ~are~ getting into the spirit of cooperation. Katherine will love your brilliant idea; she and June are waiting on us in the Archive Chamber now. I can't wait to tell her; come along." "Uh ...Cara, did you say? You know I was joking, right? Right?" *** Words -the attribution of meaning to marks and symbols, the heart and soul of his training- words ...would not come. He could not speak what his eyes showed: Four brilliant plates floated and sparkled before him, each five feet in length by two in width. Soon enough he would realize they hung by invisible wires and were lit by floor and ceiling lights; for now, they magically hovered and glowed in air. Thousands of glyphs etched in gleaming platinum awaited him; these were not the scraps and fragments he had worked with for so long, but a complete work, unmarred ... perfect. Giddiness flooded him, and he wondered if this was what Champollion felt when he found his little black stone -the key it would turn out, to deciphering Egyptian hieroglyphics- at a place on the Nile Delta called Rosetta? Or were the thoughts pinging around his brain similar to old Professor Sukenik's, as he sipped Turkish coffee in the attic of a Bethlehem antiquities dealer? When they showed him the scrolls from the jars uncovered by a Bedouin goat herder among the cliffs of the Dead Sea? He forgot to breathe as he drew close to the first plate, running a hand over its gleaming surface. A thought flashed in his head that there might be a Goddess, for wasn't this the answer to his prayer? His dream come true? Professor Rutledge reasoned the plate symbols were kin to Egyptian hieroglyphic engravings, but it wasn't so. Egyptian glyphs translate into syllable sounds and linearly combine to create words, where these geometric symbols did not. Nor was it like Mayan pictograms, he decided, where pictures represent names and places. No, these glyphs represented ideas -they had to- yet each symbol looked incomplete. Minutes ticked by as Katherine, Cara, and June watched him. He couldn't decipher it! His stomach roiled; for the first time, his 'knack' for feeling a language's sense and rhythm, failed him. He read left to right, right to left, up, down, and diagonally. Nothing. He was staring at the find of the ages and all he could reason out was he would need help? What an ego blow; his colleagues had waited for the day the 'boy wonder' would fail, and now it had come. Best to admit failure up front. "Sorry, but I can't seem to-" His mouth slammed shut when something ...clicked. In his mind, the first symbol and the two below it, joined to form a new one, outlined in a bright silver light. Then, the most beautiful female voice he had ever heard ...sang in his mind. "Oh ...oh God ...oh..." He ran his fingers over more of the etching. He knew! Somehow, he knew! He pointed to the first plate. "Kore." He scanned the second plate. "Demeter." The third. "Hecate." And the fourth. "It's ...Noname, um ...that's what it sings ...says..." Katherine turned at June's gasp. "Mother Juneau?" "I'm fine, it's..." She folded her hands together to keep from drumming the table. "I've waited so long to bring Her words back to life. When the Nazis destroyed our last translation, the index page alone survived. On it were four words: Kore, Demeter, Hecate and Nameless." She started drumming her fingers again. "How long? To translate, how long?" Dylan's eyes danced across the luminous plates, filled with the strange characters. "About..." The first symbol rows of the Kore plate caught his eye. They played in his mind, their joining was a ballet, a singing. He shook his head to clear it, but the song grew louder. "Mr. Reese," June said. "Is something wrong?" "Um ...sorry, these things make me woozy," he said, and tried to plow forward. "The first line's a warning, I think, 'Let she who reads, beware. Once the path or ... or ...journey, maybe is better ...is begun, it cannot be stopped.' What's that mean?" "You often see such language, correct? Standard fare?" June's words seemed a bit rushed. "How long?" He ~had~ seen similar warnings, which were less threat than advice to treat the text with reverence. "Maybe a month to finish a definitive version? Then, I'd publish my findings and have my colleagues challenge-" "Mr. Reese, the reason I commissioned you at such an impressive fee was your reputation for expedited translations. I hope my trust wasn't misplaced." Dylan's back stiffened. "If I worked fifteen hour days, I might have a working draft in one week, ma'am, but it won't-" "-Perfect. Not a moment longer, though, I have so few left." June's smile was bright, eager and she started drumming her fingers again. "Would you ...indulge an old woman, and read just the first few words of the text. I have longed to know them all my life." "Sure..." He scanned the Kore plate symbols again, and waited for the images to dance in his mind, for that ethereal voice to intone meaning. He uttered them as they formed, almost not knowing what he spoke: "~From the stillness of my garden, a rose bud opens to the morning star~" "No, stop," June whispered. "I've waited this long, I'll wait a bit more; I want the text in full. You will show the final version to me alone." She struggled to stand. "Katherine, ensure his work is uninterrupted. Above all, no one must know of this." "All Sisters were told that, due to a restoration project, the Archive Chamber is closed," Katherine answered. "It is well." June hobbled to the door, but stopped. "Why aren't you working? Tempus fugit, Mr. Reese, time flies; don't waste another instant." "The more accurate translation is 'time flees'." He withered under June's stare. "Yes, well, *ahem* why don't I fly to it then?" *** Fifteen hours later, Katherine stood in Dylan's guestroom doorway. "Remember, Mr. Reese, it is dangerous for you to roam the halls unescorted. If you need something, call my cell and someone will be here to help you." She expected pushback on this, because she was sure it must seem like imprisonment to him. Which it was. "Yeah ...sure ...thanks." He dropped his robe to the floor and fell into a chair. His hand jumped to his temples. "Are you ...ill, Mr. Reese?" "No ...don't think so ...but those symbols ...and her voice ...I can't shake 'em..." Then he smiled, and a shadow of his humor surfaced. "...and please stop calling me 'Mr. Reese.' I'm Dylan." "Dylan, then." She motioned with her head to a table. "A bottle of red, as requested. You look like you need it." "You're right, wine in my belly is just what the doctor ordered." He paused, and after a moment, lowered his eyes. "Thanks, Ms. Lanthe; I know it's annoying as hell to be my minder." His gratitude sounded genuine, and though it pained her to admit, he wasn't the pig she first imagined. To her surprise, she found she liked him. "Fine," she sighed. "Call me Kit." *** "Kit! What are you-" "Sshh! And keep your hands raised over your head, Lyra; if you move them again, I ~will~ tie them." Dylan couldn't make sense of it; he remembered staggering to his bed after guzzling his red, and face planting into his pillow, but now everything was wrong, even the bed was different. Well, not everything was wrong; he was sure it was Kit's seductive voice whispering in his ear, and that felt so right. "It's time for new sensations, my sweet virgin. Close your eyes." ~Okay, so ...this is a dream~ He'd never been one to remember dreams before, and a lucid dream experience like this was a first; so real, down to the curious buzzing he heard. "I prefer a strapon, but to start you gently, we'll go with our little silver friend here." "kay..." What a realistic dream! He even sensed the air moving through the throat to make sound, but it wasn't his voice, that answered, was it? So soft and high, how could it be? And from the foreign sensations that flooded him - no way was this his body. "Don't be scared, love, I'll take tender care of you," Katherine cooed in an ear, licking and nibbling for good measure. Whatever body he was in, Dylan realized he had no control; he was an astral traveler, a silent passenger along for the ride. Yet he experienced each physical sensation. So weird. He figured it out, when a smooth and hard ~something~, buzzed and circled a nipple on top of a breast that was way way too big. ~I'm in a woman's body, Lyra's body!~ As if to confirm it, something sharp raked the nipple, sending pleasure tingles. "-oooooo-" "Responsive little minx, aren't you, and a moaner, too, I bet. Don't hold back." Whatever it was that was buzzing, now slid off those soft breasts, down a smooth stomach ...and lower. "Normally, I meander up and down my lover's body for a slow volcano build. I'll do this later. Right now, I want to test a theory, little Lyra. I think you'll cum for me whenever I tell you to. Shall we see?" "Yeah, Kit... pleeeease..." "I'll start by rubbing your clit, love." ~What?~ Dream or no, ~that~ demanded processing, but a sudden piercing pleasure wave swept analysis away. Lyra's hands grabbed a pillow cushion and squeezed. "-unggnnnnnn-" "Nice, hmm? Now feel the difference when I fuck your vagina, even just a little." Something plunged inside where it wasn't possible, and a dizzying wave spread through Lyra's body, a building pleasure pressure. Dylan felt Lyra's back arch and pelvis raise. "Keep ...doing ...that." Lyra's lips could manage no more than a whisper, and Dylan was so lost in the bliss that he'd have said the same words even if he'd had control of her body. Katherine's other hand started rubbing Lyra's -clit, or whatever it was- again, and Dylan felt a wave building and building. "Cum for me, Lyra." Everything exploded, her body melted, and she bucked and screamed under Katherine's touch. "That's my girl." The next thing Dylan felt -once the golden cascade of tingling stopped and he ~could~ think again- was a sharp tweak on a nipple. "I'll let you return the favor later, babe, now I need your butt in gear; sunrise is in a few, and there's a place on the beach I want to show you." Without the relentless pleasure assault, Dylan started to sort out the surroundings. Though the room was predawn dark, he saw he was in a bedroom with large hurricane shutters and cane furniture. He smelled a moist breeze, heard waves crashing in the distance and tasted salt in the air. "Here, put this on." Katherine held something floral in her hands. Lyra took into her slender hands what looked to be a sarong, printed with tropical flowers. Katherine had already stepped into her purple sarong, and Dylan felt the grin that had come to Lyra's face at the vision of Kit's lean curvy legs and firm naked breasts. Katherine's rich black hair gleamed in the dawn. "Later, lusty goldfinch, hurry now." Dylan felt the slide of fabric over smooth legs. "Don't I need a ...top," Lyra's voice squeaked. "Uh-uh, you're my island girl. C'mon!" Dylan caught a flash of Lyra's body in a dressing table mirror: Staring at him was a woman who looked barely legal, her glittering blue eyes were wide, and she ran a hand through golden hair made extra curly by the humidity. Then she caressed a firm round breast, and her mouth formed an "O". "It's still hard to believe, isn't it, lover?" The girl in the mirror nodded, "this is gonna take some getting used to..." ~Understatement of the century~, "...I'm mean... look at me, I'm beautiful!" "Quit ogling yourself, that's my job," Katherine said, "and..." Dylan felt the sharp SMACK on Lyra's butt. "...get a move on. I know you're tight with the Goddess, but I don't think she'll slow sunrise on your account, and I so want you to see this with me." They ran down a path canopied by palm trees with coconut and plantain mixed in. A thousand fragrances and colors assaulted Dylan, of buttercups, morning glories, hibiscus and jasmine; splashes of red, yellow and purple. They spilled onto a white sandy beach that joined with Caribbean blue water. Rocky outcrops bounded the cove on each side of the beach, giving it a secluded feel. Katherine pulled Lyra to the sand with a plop, and wrapped her legs and arms around her. "My family came here for summers when I was a kid, and I named this my Secret Cove; I know, not very original. I've always wanted to share it with someone, but it had to be the one I loved. It felt so right to Dylan when Lyra leaned back into Katherine. "It's so beautiful! Let's stay here all day ...I mean, it's private, and I could ...return the um ...favor, if you know what I mean?" Katherine laughed. "Don't worry; you'll get your chance. But I'm not a 'lie on the beach' kind of gal, if you hadn't figured that out. We'll go to Blue Hole Lagoon in a bit, and pester Mike into taking us out for a dive ...you do know how to dive, don't you?" "Like ...cliff diving?" He marveled at how soft and meek Lyra's voice sounded. "No, silly. Scuba. You know how to cliff dive? That would be awesome!" Dylan felt Lyra's brisk head shake. "No! To both! I've never done things like that. Only books, books, and more books." ~That sounded so familiar~ "No problem mon," Katherine said. "I'll teach you how to scuba dive; we'll snorkel today. After lunch, we'll go to Boston Beach for some surfing. Then dress shopping; I'm taking you to Trident tonight for a five-course dinner and I wanna show off your tight little body. Then it's movie night at Goblin Hill-" "Really," Lyra squealed. "What's showing?" "Double feature; Sabrina, both versions." "Ohmygod." "Overwhelming, I know. Finally, we'll answer one of life's great mysteries: who was the better Linus Larrabee, Harrison or Bogie. And after that, maybe I'll even get us laid." Dylan felt Lyra's eyes widen. "But I thought that ...you said you didn't like..." Katherine laughed again and kissed the top of Lyra's head. "I was kidding, though men do have their uses. You of all people should agree; someday we'll share one together." "You mean we'd ...um, share a ...a..." Her voice was no more than a whisper. "Lyra, you are too damn cute!" Dylan felt Katherine's arms tighten. "Relax, sweetie, you're all mine. Now shush, here it comes!" As the sun burst from the horizon and sent gold sparkles across the water to them, Katherine whispered, "I love you, Lyra." "You'd better," Dylan heard her soft voice answer, "I came back just for you." *** Cara pounded on his door a second time. "Dylan? It's 5:30, are you up?" Indeed he was. Well, one body part at least. "Dylan?" His eyes pried open, to find he was in his guest room at the Foundation. 'God what a dream!' "S-sorry," he called to Cara as he staggered to the shower. A cold one. "Ready in a few." Katherine was waiting in the Archive Chamber, gigantic latte cup in hand. "Don't you ~dare~ tell anyone I brought you this," she said, handing him the steaming cup. "If you do, I'll rip your tongue out." She thought he'd laugh at that, but he didn't crack a smile. "You okay? You seem ...on edge." "Yeah ...okay ...I'm..." he set down at his table and opened his laptop. "Well, no, I'm not okay; it's a little weird talking to you just now." "Now see, you've gone and lost me, and here I thought we were getting on famously, what with me swallowing my professional integrity about this whole babysitting thing." "No ...it's ...I had this bizarre dream ...it was...." He shook his head, trying, to dislodge the unnatural realness of the vision. "Damn crazy glyphs!" He glared at the plates that sparkled before him, then grabbed his head. He looked in pain, so she touched his arm out of concern. He jumped like he'd been struck by lightning. "What's wrong? Should I get our..." She was going to say 'doctor' but realized she couldn't involve Judith, the Foundation's medical officer, without exposing Dylan's presence. "...what's wrong?" "Know what? I'll tell you. Once you hear it you'll kung fu me, and that might snap me out of it." He smiled at her confused stare. "In my dream, you and I were lovers, somewhere in the Caribbean, I think, we were naked and-" She could react two ways: rage or amusement. He didn't appear to be using this conversation as a twisted come on, so ..." "Why are you giving me that shit eating grin? I've never dreamed anything so real! We were crazy for each other and ...you being this close to me isn't helping ...calm me down, if you know what I mean." She was curious to see how 'uncalm' he was, but his desk blocked her view of his crotch. "Relax, 'lover', flattered as I am to be headlining your dreams, in the spirit of absolute disclosure, you should know I'm not into long term relations with men. Oh, they have their uses for the occasional one night fling, but my soul mate -if there is one out there for butch like me- will be a woman." "That's the thing! In my dream," his voice was a whisper now, "I was that woman." "Really?" Katherine's eyebrow arched; she was game to play. "How did dream lover Dylan look, hmm? Tell me you were a petite little thing, cuz that's how I like em, submissive and blonde." "You're screwing with me, but I ~was~ that, frizzy, golden headed and topping out at your shoulders. And my name wasn't Dylan, it was ...Lyra-" "-ooo- I like that ...it's so sexy slave like!" He ignored her. "-and she ...I ...had eyes so blue they sparkled. And you were ...so beautiful, not 'butch' or however you described yourself..." his voice trailed off as he remembered the way they looked in the mirror together. Katherine's mouth curled in a smile. "Anything else you want to tell me ...Lyra?" "Fine, laugh, but it was as real to me as us sitting here now!" "Now, now, I'm not making fun of you. There's something comforting in knowing I was in a long term relationship; it gives me hope. Were we a cute couple?" "We ...we loved each other, Kit ...so much." "Great ...well..." Katherine's face grew serious. Though she found his dream intriguing, they were on a tight schedule, and every delay risked his discovery here. "...all out of your system? Ready to work?" He sighed. "Yeah, guess so ...damn crazy thing." He frowned when he looked at the Kore plate and then at his translation from yesterday. "Well ...shit." "What's wrong," Katherine asked. "My translation is lifeless..." He blinked as the symbols formed in his mind, brighter this time; his dream had unlocked something deeper in him. He clicked 'delete' and 'no' to the 'save changes' query. "What did you just do?" Katherine shrieked. "We don't have time for this! I cannot guarantee your safety while your ...wet dreams delay you!" "Wet dreams? This isn't about-" He shook his head. "You don't understand, I ...I can't go on. The glyphs ...they're making me start over." *** 2. Demeter "Problems?" "A few thousand at least," Katherine said, dropping onto Gail's couch. "This is pass?, Kit; I don't have my patients lie on a couch, I conduct my sessions over there," Gail said, motioning to a conversation pit of overstuffed chairs. Gail Martin's public title was Foundation Therapist and Counselor. To the inner band of the Eleusian Sisters, she was an Arch Priestess, and ritual historian. Katherine stretched out. "Mmm, this is so comfy I could melt into it. I've been working long hours on a project; it's why I'm here; this is an official call, by the way. I don't need you to be Sigmund Freud today; I need your historian brain instead." "Ask away," Gail said, pulling a chair next to the long lean security chief. "The Plates. Tell me about their mystical qualities." "Mystical qualities? Now you're scaring me; I know you'd sooner believe in Santa Claus than ascribe mystical powers to the Plates." "But you do." Gail's launched into her stock 'modern mythology' explanation. "You'd agree that, allegorically, the Plates represent a divine archetype, immutable, incorruptible. All societies have such images embedded in the collective unconscious-" "Cut the Jungian crap," Katherine interrupted, "this is your freshman roomie you're talking to; I knew you when you didn't camouflage your beliefs in psychobabble." Though their college studies diverged after their first year of rooming together, they had remained close friends, and it had been Gail who'd recruited Katherine to the Eleusian. "Psychobabble? I beg your-" "-Can it," Katherine said. "Not here to debate or criticize. I know that Sisters born into the Eleusian - like you and Cara- talk differently about things like the Plates when a convert is around. And did you think you could hide your secret meetings from your head of security? This one time, treat me as one of you, and tell me about the Plates." "It's not that we don't trust you; rather, we have to bring converts along slowly, especially in this cynical age where-" "-I promise to listen to what you say with seriousness and reverence," Katherine said, crossing her heart. "What I'm about to say is confidential. I shouldn't tell you at all, but I have nowhere else to turn. So I'm asking you, as a friend, to keep this secret." Gail smiled, and then made a zipping gesture across her lips. "Great, thanks. I've been informed that my current top priority is to supervise the translation of the Plates, and..." She lay back on the couch, put her hands behind her head and stared at the ceiling. "...we're on day three of the project, and I'm running into difficulties with our translator. He finished the first plate this morning, but he's acting strange. For the past two nights, he's dreamed he was my lover - in the first we were in the Caribbean; the second, we lounged somewhere in the Greek Isles..." For some reason, it pleased Katherine to be the object of Dylan's nocturnal desires. She wondered what that meant, given her orientation. She wasn't about to toss that out for her friend to devour analytically. She needn't have worried, though; analyzing her was the furthest thing from Gail's mind. Gail had gone into catatonic shock at the words 'plates' and 'translation.' "...anyway, now he's hit a wall with the second plate. He says the symbols aren't singing to him or some such. I can't believe I'm going to say this, but, could it be the plates that are affecting him? Perhaps they're made of a strange alloy that he's allergic to or-" Gail recovered from her stunned silence. "WHO authorized this?" Katherine had never seen Gail so agitated. "Mother Juneau. She wanted the Plates to be translated before she passed on; her legacy-" "-An Eleusian edict has been in place for over a thousand years banning a translation. Overturning it takes the unanimous approval of the High Council." "Well I don't know anything about that," Katherine said. "Why is there an edict-" The walkie-talkie function of Katherine's cell phone blipped, and she flipped it open. "KIT!" It was Cara. "Haul butt to the Archive Chamber NOW! One of the Maenads found Dylan and they've raised the alarm. More are coming!" "SHIT! I'll call Liz and Trin; stall, delay, but keep him alive!" Gail read the dread on Katherine's face. "What's happened? Trouble?" "Yeah," Katherine said, pausing to gather her thoughts. "Looks like we won't have to worry about the 'Curse of the Plates.' The Maenads are going to take care of it first; they've found Dylan." "Holy Goddess, what have you done?" "What have ~I~ done? Nothing yet. Bout to, though." Katherine was sprinting now, still yelling into her cell. "Trin, emergency scenario three; get Liz, and meet me at the Archive Room. Bring the gas and masks." *** By Katherine's calculation, the tear gas gave her team a solid fifteen seconds of 'breathing space'; it took that long for a hostile to pry his hands from his eyes to take counter measures. She, Trin and Liz had put on masks and burst in, to find that Cara and a group of half a dozen or so Maenad 'warriors' had fallen to the ground near the plates, and covered their eyes. Dylan lay on the ground near his computer table, eyes closed. Hunched next to him was Cassiopeia, hands clawing at her face. Katherine walked behind Cassiopeia and twisted her arm behind her back. "I will break it, unless you do exactly what I say. First. Your bitches must leave NOW." "Lanthe ...wait," Cassiopeia coughed. "They'll leave; I'd already ordered them out when you came Ramboing in. This man needs medical attention. I think he hit his head on the floor pretty hard. The gas can't be helping." "You are soo funny," Katherine said, applying more pressure to Cassiopeia's arm. "If you think for a moment that I'd trust you-" "It's true, Kit," Cara said, struggling to her feet. Katherine was pleased Cara was the first to recover as the gas cleared. "She ordered her guard to leave; I tried to call you back to lower the threat level. It started after Jessica over there wandered in, and freaked out at Dylan. Before I could stop her, she'd slammed him to the ground." Katherine let go of Cassiopeia's arm and pulled off her mask. "You allowed this man to live? Why?" Cassiopeia's smile was hawk like; though she was in her late forties, she was a formidable opponent, fitter -and tougher- than women half her age. She had already recovered from the gas. "I like you, Lanthe, and I love it that your first instinct was to attack me. You're direct and I will be too: Mother Juneau told me her plan to have the Plates translated. She said if I agreed to keep quiet about her 'secret translation', she'd arrange it so I succeeded her as leader of the Eleusians." "So you agreed?" "June's misrule has been devastating. If her ego-vanity project meant my Maenads could return to power, I thought, fine by me..." The revelation didn't faze or disillusion Katherine; early in her career she had developed a strong cynicism for all forms of politics. A reign by Cassiopeia meant she would soon be out of a job. "...then I read some of his translation before you arrived. Goddess, it changes everything!" Katherine noticed a change in the older woman's voice. It sounded ...reverent? "What do you mean?" "The first verses of his 'Kore' translation," Cassiopeia said, motioning to the first plate, with a sweeping gesture, "they're the most beautiful thing I've ever read! I think ...I think I ~hear~ Her singing them! Much as it pains me, if this ~man~ is responsible for them, then he must be allowed to continue. We need this!" Human nature being what it is, everyone in the room shuffled to Dylan's computer screen for a look. While they did, Cassiopeia grabbed Katherine's arm, pulling her aside. "He's having another convulsion; he needs a Doctor," Cassiopeia said. "WHAT?" Katherine knelt beside Dylan; a moment ago his body was loose, but now it was taut; every muscle constricted. She punched the speed dial button on her cell for the infirmary; ordering an EMT team to the chamber. "What's been happening to him," Katherine asked. "A stroke, maybe," Cassiopeia said. "It's strange though; his body started doing this before you came in, alternately tensing and relaxing. This is the fourth spasm; is he ...dying?" "NO! He can't!" Was it only a few days ago that she'd met him? Now, the thought of losing him alarmed her. Katherine dropped her phone and grabbed Dylan's hand. She squeezed it hard. "Help is coming, Dylan. Please, hang on." *** "Hang on, Lyra, and DON'T PUSH!" "But I waaanaa puuuuuush!" "Judith?" "She's at nine centimeters and 100% effaced, Kit. Tell her just a little bit longer." "Dammit, I'm pregnant here, not deaf, Judy! Talk ...tooo ...meeeee!" ~Pregnant?!~ Dylan knew he must be in another of the strange lucid dreams where he was 'Lyra', but he couldn't focus on anything except intense pain. At first it was like a stomach cramp, but then it was a tightening wave, building and building. When it ended, the relief was delicious. "YOU DID THIS TO ME!" Dylan heard Lyra's voice -his voice- scream. "Poor little boo, you did great on that last contraction," Katherine said, stroking Lyra's hair. Dylan realized it was wringing with sweat. "And technically, 'I' didn't do this to you, it was Robert, you know, that night when we did him together." "You know what I ..." Dylan felt Lyra tightening and cramping again, "...meeeeean." "Another one coming?" Dylan felt Lyra's head jerk up and down. "Okay, focus; no more whining. After all, I went first, you wus. You knew what you were getting into." "Zoey's gonna have a little sister; isn't it greeeea..." Lyra's last word turned into a moan of pain. "Please please please can I..." "Judith?" Dylan felt a rubber gloved hand squirming inside Lyra -him!- down below a huge belly. "You're good to go, dear, PUSH!" "Thank you Gaaawwwd!" Time turned hazy, minutes or hours passed, Dylan wasn't sure; his entire focus became an exhausting cycle of push and relax as Lyra's body bore down. Katherine gripped her hand while the doctor held a mirror to show what was happening between her thighs. Though Dylan could feel the baby coming out, he lacked words to describe the miracle of the baby's head 'crowning' in the mirror reflection. Then he felt a sharp stinging and stretching. "Things are a little tight, hun, but I won't do an episiotomy unless I must. Let's get you on all fours; it'll make gravity a bit less so things go gentler. Okay, sweetie? "Yeah, 'kay." Things blurred after that for Dylan, and with the pushing of the baby, the cutting the cord, the after birth, he forgot he was in a dream. And then... "Do you want hold our daughter," Katherine asked. "More than anything in the world." The words came from Lyra's mouth, but Dylan was positive they were from his soul. "Here you go little mama, meet Marielle." When those beautiful blue eyes looked up, and Dylan felt the sheer force of her love, in that moment, the world was complete. "So you're good with the name? I'm mean, I know our deal was you name mine and I name yours, but we can change it if you don't like it ...it's just ...I think I heard you mention that name before somewhere and..." "Marielle ...is perfect." Katherine's voice turned into a soothing background hum, as Dylan's whole world became little Marielle, sleeping against Lyra's breast. Exhaustion, dammed for so long, flooded in with a vengeance, and he felt Lyra's body drifting to sleep. *** "Judith! Signs of life here." Katherine's voice had become sharp again. "Hmmm? Was I asleep long?" "Asleep? Dylan, you've been out cold for three hours." "What? Don't I need to feed ...bring me Marielle." "Who?" Panic filled Dylan; a void, a sense of something missing. "My baby! Bring her to me!" The suddenness that Dylan sprang up in his infirmary bed caught her off guard. She had been leaning over him and the upswing of his head almost hit her in the face. It was his eyes, wide and glazed and dark, that worried her most. "Judith! Get your ass over here! He's freaking out!" She slapped him hard across his face. "Snap out of it." He put his hand to a stinging cheek and blinked at her. "Why did you ...oh shit ...it was another dream?" "Apparently." The Foundation's doctor hurried over to join Katherine and Gail at their bedside vigil; Gail stepped back to let her examine him. The doctor lowered him back onto his pillow, and looked into his eyes. "How's your head feel? Do you know your name and who we are?" "Yeah, I'm Ly-" He shook his head, which made it throb. "Dylan ...I'm ...Dylan. God this is so screwed up! You're Kit Lanthe, and you are ..." He squinted at the petite pepper haired woman in white lab coat. "...Dr. Judith Conroy, the Eleusian's doctor." Judith turned to Katherine. "He seems cognizant, though I don't know how he knew me, since we've never been intro-" "-It was real!" Dylan grabbed Katherine's hands. "Our baby, Kit, OURS! Our second daughter, you had the first ...I ~felt~ Marielle come out of me! It was amazing. It was ...a dream I guess ...but I miss her. What's happening to me?" "Um ...Doctor," Katherine asked in a low voice. Judith shrugged. "Like I said, he seems stable, though we should run an MRI to be safe. You say he's had other episodes like this?" "I'm right here, Doctor, I'm not deaf, talk to me," Dylan said. "Yeah, each night I've worked on the plates, I've had these dreams, so vivid that I ...I'm having a hard time knowing where they end and the real world begins." "Dreams? What kind," Gail asked, stepping to the bed. "He's told me all about them; I'll give you the download in a bit." Katherine was reluctant to have Dylan describe them, she didn't know why, but she felt his dreams were something to be shared just between them. "Okay, as soon as you can, so I can get a handle on what's going on." Gail paused, and Katherine could see her turning something over in her mind. "I've got to go check a few things out." "Sure," Katherine said, and turned back to Dylan when Gail left the infirmary. "You gave me ...us ...a little scare. I thought maybe I'd lost you. Can't have my-" "-Yeah, I know, already behind schedule and over budget. Chop chop, back to work-" "-That's not what I meant; I can't have my dream lover getting all bashed up." Dylan stared into her eyes; was she joking? "We were ...I know how weird this must sound, but we ...we were mothers and so happy. I'll stop talking about this if it creeps you out." She ran a hand through his curly hair. If she'd thought about the easy familiarity she felt with him, it might have troubled her; she had always guarded her emotions, and for her to be publicly affectionate with a man was way out of character. "Hey, it doesn't bother me. It's nice to know that in some bizzaro universe, two lonely souls like us can be happy." Dylan scanned her face again to see if she was mocking him. He gave her a warm smile when he saw she wasn't. Then, the glyphs of the second plate -that had stubbornly refused to cooperate with him this morning- blazed in his mind now, spinning, dancing, forming ...meaning. His hands shot to his temples and he bolted up in his bed again. "Dylan, what's-" He's legs swung out of his bed. "Have ta get back there." Katherine put her hands out. "Whoa, Mister Mom. You're in no condition to-" "-You don't understand, I ~have~ to, the-" "-glyphs are making you. Yeah yeah," Katherine said. "Damned persistent glyphs, if you ask me. You up to this?" His weak nod didn't reassure her. When she pulled him up, a wave of dizziness hit and he hugged her to keep from falling. "Absolutely, you're ready to go ...right back to bed." "No, I'll be fine. The Demeter plate glyphs are forming together in my mind now, and I need to write the words down." He realized he was still holding her close. He unwound his arms from her body. "Sorry." "I wasn't complaining," she said in a soft voice. She looked at him for a moment; he did seem to have stabilized. "All the same, I'll walk you back, in case you have another dizzy spell, and to prevent any Maenad from detaching your head from your body." *** Katherine opened Gail's door, to find her friend sitting at her desk, and Cassiopeia lounging on the couch. Katherine's blackberry had been buzzing nonstop over the last hour from Gail's messages to come see her. To find Cassiopeia here as well meant ...what? "How's Dylan," Gail asked. "He hasn't relapsed, has he?" Katherine shook her head. "He's back in the infirmary sleeping. I've ordered that a guard be posted there around the clock; Cara's standing first watch." It had been hard to turn over her vigil to Cara -a protective impulse that surprised her- and she delayed seeing Gail until after he'd dozed off. She loathed to think that she'd tucked him in, but that's what it amounted to. After the fireworks this morning, he'd been fine for most of the day. More than fine, he scribbled his translation of the glittering symbols like a man possessed. Dylan plowed through the Demeter Plate in one marathon session, finishing the last symbol at ten. Once he pressed the last period key, though, he slumped to the table. Katherine could have sworn that when he did, the Demeter Plate dimmed and the Hecate Plate shimmered brighter. For a moment, she had the crazy notion that they were sucking energy from him. Katherine hooked her arm around his shoulder and helped him back to the infirmary, where he face-planted into his bed. If she were honest, she would admit that another reason she was reluctant to let someone else guard him was her worry that he would have another lucid dream and talk in his sleep. She could only wonder what role she would play in his dreams tonight. Cara finally had to shoo her out of the infirmary. "So, girls, why are we all here, hmm," Katherine said. "We're in for a bit of a chat," Cassiopeia said, patting the empty couch square next to her. After Katherine sat down, Cassiopeia continued. "Have you read any of Dylan's translation?" Katherine shook her head. "You must! It's like..." a look of serenity -that's the closest Katherine could describe it- passed over Cassiopeia's face, softening her hawk-like features. "... imagine crawling for days, for years in a hot barren desert, with nothing to drink but sand. Then, an oasis, where you drink the coldest clearest water you've ever tasted ... sorry, I'm sure I'm mixing my metaphors." The wonder in Cassiopeia's voice disarmed Katherine. Until now, she'd placed the Maenad leader in the 'power hungry bitch' category. She'd have to reassess, for the woman next her was far more layered than she imagined. "I'm going to make his translation required reading for all Sisters, including you; I'll want my security chief to be more than occupationally proficient. I want you to be spiritually invested in the Eleusian. It took Katherine a moment to process that. "Your security chief? But surely you'll want your own-" Cassiopeia held up a hand. "-I've been watching you for some time, and I like what I see. You're smart, street smart too, practical and efficient. The way you stormed the Archive Room was magnificent. And my girls said you kicked their collective asses in their sparring sessions with you." "Come to think of it, there was a pretty long stream of 'friendly challenges' coming from the Menaeds," Katherine said, putting the puzzle pieces together. "You were testing me!" Cassiopeia grinned. "Which you passed with highest marks, especially the FedEx man test," Cassiopeia said. "Putting a gun to his head and threatening to blow it off scared the crap out of everyone. Ingenious." "Have to confess, my inspiration came from Blazing Saddles." When she saw the blank looks on their faces, she made a mental note to tell the story to Dylan. She figured he'd appreciate her brilliance. "Now, let's address our trust issues, shall we," Cassiopeia said. At that moment, Katherine felt she was standing on shifting sands. Earlier today, she was attracted to a man, and now she found she respected -no, she was warming to- Cassie. "First, let me disabuse you of the notion that I want to see all men dead," Cassiopeia continued. "I'm a pragmatist; as a species we need men to survive. And I don't hate men; I despise what men have done over the ages, to women, to the earth and to one another." "To the problem at hand, the odd effects that the plates are having on Mr. Reese..." Cassiopeia looked at Gail. Gail took her cue. "Earlier today, I called Professor Rutledge, and asked if Dylan had ever exhibited the behavior he's shown here; either an obsessive/compulsive work pattern, or this bizarre dreaming. She claims he's the most easygoing person she's ever met. She's worked with him in the field several times, and never noticed behavior like this." "Okay, there's something here that is causing him to have this reaction. So what is it," K