Hysteresis by Nancy Brown nancy@tooloud.interlink.net Copyright 1998 PG-13 The characters and corporations named in this story are the property of the Walt Disney Company, Buena Vista, and the Creators Weisman, Paur et al. No infringement on their rights is intended or should be inferred. Tara Schaeffer is the property of herself. Anyone interested in using this character should contact the University of Missouri - Rolla, where her soul is currently being held in a jar in the basement of Parker Hall. Otherwise, for better or worse, this story is mine. *** June 5, 1987 *** "Dr. Renard, the next applicant is here." "Thank you, Gladys." Anastasia put on her most pleasant smile, hoping her face wouldn't crack from the effort. She hated interviewing people, hated it with a passion, but the Personnel Manager had taken a sick day because her daughter had the flu, and they did need to get these finished. But dammit, she'd been in the middle of a project, and Halcyon could just as easily have handled the interviews, and had a rest besides. The door opened. A slim, bespeckled man entered the room. For one moment, she thought Halcyon's young new assistant Preston had dyed his hair for a lark. Common sense reasserted itself; Preston did nothing on a lark, and as the stranger approached, she could detect minute differences between Preston's face and his. Could they be brothers, perhaps? "Please sit down, Mr ... " "Burnett. Thank you, Doctor." His solemn voice held a hint of music. And his eyes were not those of a mortal man. Unless she had vastly misjudged Preston, they were assuredly not brothers. "You ... " "I?" he replied with some confusion. "Clever disguise, but I know who you are." "Madame, my name is Owen Burnett. Yours is Anastasia Renard. It is a pleasure to meet you." His face betrayed no emotion. So he was at a game. She complied with it, wagering with herself that he could not maintain the stoic facade until the end of the day. "Likewise, Mr. Burnett," she said around a smile. "May I see your resume?" He handed it over her desk. She paged through, noting the schools he'd supposedly attended, the references, the placement company which had ostensibly sent him. They were pretty lies but lies nonetheless. "You'll forgive me if I doubt the authenticity of these documents." "I assure you, Madame, that if you contact anyone listed, they will find the proper records for you." "Records are only half. The position will be management-based, but you will be expected to have a working familiarity with our research. A heavy scientific background would be preferred." Not that I've had the chance to use mine lately. "May I refer you to my undergraduate studies?" She glanced down, noted that he'd supposedly graduated summa cum laude in a dual business and biochemistry degree. "And telophase is?" "A phase of cell mitosis in which the chromosome pairs have separated, and the nuclear membrane reappears. The cytoplasm begins to divide as the spindle disintegrates." "What is a Bayes network?" "A means of representing relationships between variables, even relationships involving uncertainty or unpredictability." He answered her with the patience of a sphinx. Not bad for someone who had once delighted in teasing sphinxes, she mused. She picked up the phone and pressed the fourth button on the Speed Dial. After one ring, a smooth, deep voice answered her: "Moonrise Management. How may I help you?" "Mark, it's Anastasia Renard. Is Diana available?" "Hello, Doctor," he replied, warmth radiating back through the phone line. "Ms. Mathers has someone in her office, but I'm expecting her to be finished any time now. Would you like me to have her call you?" "That would be lovely. Thank you. How have you been?" "Can't complain. Scott just landed a position with the D.A.'s office, so he's been busy. But he's happy doing something good with his degree." "Congratulate him for me." "I'll do that." She heard a noise in the background, and then a mumbled comment. "Doctor, Ms. Mathers is free. I'll put you through." "Thank you, Mark." She heard a click, then a ring, and then a woman's voice: "Mathers speaking." "Diana, it's Anastasia Renard." "Let me guess. You want to exchange Halcyon for something in the young executive type." "Not precisely, although I'll keep it in mind. I have an erstwhile young applicant in my office who says he was sent by you." "Which one? We sent you five today." "Owen Burnett." "Stuffy fellow? Blond? Glasses? Personality of a dead trout?" "That's the fellow. What can you tell me about him?" Still he sat quietly, not a flinch to betray himself. "He's good. Excellent references, went through our training course with the highest marks on everything but personality. He has no apparent sense of humour, but he's sharp. If he loosens up a bit, he'll make superb upper management material." "So you recommend him." "With no qualms." Anastasia glanced back to the Puck, dressed in his tasteful navy suit. Could this possibly be a trick of Oberon's, to upset the delicate balance of the life she'd created? Yes. Could this be a means of Puck's relieving his own overwhelming boredom? More likely. Either way, it would be an interesting diversion, and she admitted, having a friend nearby was never completely inauspicious. "I'll send him over with the paperwork this afternoon." "Lovely." Her tone changed completely. "How is Halcyon?" The word "Fine" died on her lips. "Adjusting." "Good. Send him my regards. Perhaps we can have lunch sometime next week." "That would be nice. I'll have Gladys call Mark." They said their good-byes and she hung up the phone. "May I make the assumption I've been hired?" "You may so assume. I will be watching you." "I will endeavour not to disappoint you." He stood and offered his hand. She took it, found his handshake to be firm, but not too strong, and of just the right duration. Utterly unpuckish. "Welcome to Cyberbiotics, Mr. Burnett." She escorted Puck, no, *Owen* into the outer office. "About time you were done." Janine sprang impatiently from the tailored leather chair. She did a double-take when she saw Owen, then smiled coyly at him. The wild child turned instant debutante once again. "Janine, this is Mr. Burnett. He's going to be assisting your father. Owen, this is my daughter Janine." He inclined his neck. "How do you do, Miss." "I do a lot of things," she replied, smoke in her voice. Then she laughed and ignored him. "Are you busy?" she asked Anastasia. "For a moment longer. Gladys, will you please start the paperwork for Mr. Burnett? Score another hit for Moonrise." "Yes, Ma'am," said Gladys, and waved the young man over to her. "I'll need some information from you." "*Now* are you free?" "Yes, dear. We'll go into my office." With a last glance to Owen, she led Janine back through the door. "Now, before you get mad, I want you to know that it wasn't my fault." Anastasia watched her beautiful mortal daughter, and as she often did in these situations, felt the beginnings of a headache. *** "How did you manage to flunk *every* class?" His calm tone was edged with fury. "I didn't flunk every class. D is for done." "Not in your major," Anastasia said. Three F's, delineated in red, stared up from the grade report. A pair of D's huddled beneath them. "How could you have failed Biology 101?" "The instructor was an idiot, Mom. Besides, I know this stuff. I don't need to prove it to anyone." "You need to finish college," said Halcyon. "I'll speak with the Dean," Anastasia said, folding the paper. "Perhaps she'll accept putting you on academic probation." "I don't want to go on academic probation. I don't want to go back. I've learned everything I need from that place. Another year would just be a waste of my time." "And you have so many better things to do with your time than get a degree?" Halcyon's hands clutched at the arms of his chair. "Yes I do. I'm moving to California." "Janine ... " "You are doing no such thing. You and your mother are going to see the Dean on Monday and ask politely that you be allowed to continue." Anastasia tightened her mouth. He knew perfectly well that telling Janine what to do was absolutely the wrong way to handle her. What was he thinking? "I am not. I'm moving. I've got some friends in LA. I'll be staying with them. It's already settled, and you can't stop me." She grabbed her purse and stalked out of the room. "Get back here!" he thundered, but she was already halfway up the stairs. "Let her calm down," she said. "She's upset. When she's had a chance to cool off, we'll figure out something." "No we won't." He wheeled back to the window. "If she wants to go to California, let her go. When she calls in a month asking for money, we can remind her that she would have had money of her own if she'd stayed in school." "There's not much of a call for professional philosophers these days." Nor for professional gymnasts who'd been banned from the U.S. Olympic team, and at twenty-one, she was already old for a professional actress breaking into the business. "Did we force her into that? No. A mind like hers, and she fails Biology." He shook his head. "Let me talk to the Dean. Maybe there was a mistake." "There was no mistake," he said. "And we're not going to the Dean. We've coddled her too much already." "Preserving her future is not coddling." "If she's not going to work on her studies, it is. She's spoiled, lazy, and she has no work ethic." "If she doesn't go back to school, she'll also have no degree." "Then she won't have a degree. Let her scrub floors for a living if that's what she wants." She closed her eyes. She remembered her first sight of her baby: a misshapen red wrinkle with a tiny birthmark over one eye like a bruise. The birth of the Three, far less painful, had yielded three strangers whom she loved but with whom any profound connection that might have existed severed with the tripartite umbilical cord. This child had to be different. Janine was her chance to restore amends. And she'd failed. "Let her go," Halcyon repeated. "I can't believe you're willing to let her discard her life like a tissue." "Considering what she's done with it, that's not a bad comparison." Defensive words sprang to her lips. With an effort, she stilled them. They didn't need to argue tonight. Considering how things looked currently, she thanked her lucky stars she hadn't told him in the lab. "I'll find something for dinner. What would you like?" "I'm not hungry." "You need to eat something." He ignored her, continued to stare out the window. In its reflection, she could see the rigidity of his jaw, the gaunt lines making an inexorable march across his face. Three months in a wheelchair had aged him in ways she could not fathom, and Janine was not helping matters. "If you change your mind, let me know." She went to the kitchen. The housekeeper had gone to live with her son in Denver not a week past, and they hadn't yet hired a replacement. The kitchen seemed darker and more foreboding for her absence and for the dying sunlight streaming in through the curtains over the double sink. Anastasia hated the hour before sunset. The quality of the light pointed out the years on her own face, reminded her of friends long gone. She blocked the sun from her eyes with one splayed hand. Fine wrinkles, evidence of human growth and decay, crisscrossed the palm and fingers. Her wedding ring glinted dully, itself too tired to shine in the late afternoon light. Her form was aging, and she herself was older than Time. Only with a will did she tear herself from thoughts of Autumn, of what always followed afterwards. She made a slapdash sandwich and fled to the dim safety of the dining room. *** She tapped at Janine's door. "May I come in?" "It's not locked." As she'd feared, the room was a mess, though not in the typical mess of the college student who'd never been much for folding her clothes. This was the mess of someone who had meticulously emptied every drawer and hanger in the process of deciding what was to be packed and what discarded forever. Janine sat cross-legged on the floor, haphazardly folding a creamy angora sweater, which she then shoved into an overlarge duffel bag. She grabbed a black leotard, balled it up tightly, and popped it in afterwards. "You don't have to do this." "If I don't, I'll be running around naked. That would be illegal." She threw in a pair of socks. "That's not what I meant. Why do you have to leave? Can't you do what you want to do here?" "No." She looked up from her packing. Slight imperfections on her makeup said she'd been crying earlier. "I need to do this. For me. I was never cut out for college. I need to see what life really has to offer." She waved her arm. "If I stay here, I'll turn into another ornament on the wall." "Is that how you see yourself? An ornament?" "Isn't it the truth? You and Daddy want a perfect little girl who will grow up to be exactly like you. I'm not perfect by a long shot, and I'm not a little girl anymore, and I don't want to be just like you." Once upon a time, she'd heard another child whisper much the same thing to her like a dirty secret, trembling in fear that his father might somehow overhear. "Whom do you want to be?" "I don't know. But I need to find out, and I can't do that here." A shimmery blue blouse crumpled in her grasp. Anastasia knelt down in the ruin of her daughter's room, and touched the sides of her face. The smeared makeup revealed the slight darkness around her right eye. It had faded a few weeks after her birth, but the lingering discoloration, faint though it was, bothered her enough to disguise it with foundation and powder whenever possible. The mask had slipped, and her child stared back at her alone. "Then go," she said. "Find out who you are, what you want, and when you do, tell me." "I will." She pulled her daughter close to her, held her against her heart for as long as she dared. The girl had to find her own path, just as she had found hers. Vassar had not been the proper environment; perhaps Los Angeles would be. Janine pulled away first, and wiped at her eyes. The action dislodged more makeup. "I'll give you Dingo and Tara's number. I'll be staying with them." "Dingo?" "His real name's Harry. It's a long story." "Of course." Truthfully, she was far less concerned about the man's name than the fact that her youngest daughter was moving in with him. "How well do you know them?" "Well enough. I know Tara from school. Dingo's her boyfriend. Weird guy, but nice." "Just promise me you'll be careful?" Janine gave her a peck on the cheek. "Aren't I always?" Anastasia wondered idly if her mortal body was prone to ulcers. *** Life settled into routine without Janine's presence. She shouldn't have been surprised, considering the upheavals she had suffered in her life, nevertheless she often found herself standing outside her daughter's room, lost in old daydreams. She spoke to Halcyon, and he agreed that she needed to spend more time in the lab and less on paperwork. Their exec board needed someone competent to chair it, but whom? Preston seemed a likely choice for the position, and Owen, despite her earlier misgivings, showed strong business acumen. She could see him in upper management, and the thought scared her. Moonrise sent over a few likely candidates for the executive fast track. Most came from old money, with business degrees from Yale or Harvard. She found them equally stuffy, but perhaps not so much as the Puck's newest facade. She was an hour from extending the offer to one of the Yalies when a belated applicant arrived, also from Moonrise, with a personal note from Mathers: "Watch this one. He's fire." The interview with the young man went quickly. His references were first-rate, his charisma a nice change from the pervading geekiness of the rest of the staff. His name was David, and Anastasia liked him instantly. With Halcyon's approval, she hired the man, and gratefully returned to her work. She came into contact with Owen on a regular basis. Unsure at first of how to relate to him, she tried being friendly, then polite, then aloof, then stern, and finally back to polite. He made no visible change in his behaviour no matter what she did, and he adamantly refused to be drawn into a discussion of things immortal. Had she not known, could she not see the wilderness hidden deep within the cool blue of his eyes, she never would have guessed his true nature. She did know, and she could see, and she wondered what amusement he was at, and if he would allow her to join him. Janine sent letters and called collect at least once a month. She'd been trying to break into acting, had found the process harder than it had first appeared. Despite Halcyon's wishes, Anastasia sent money, and prayed that her child would come home soon. Halcyon refused to speak to Janine when she called. His condition stabilized, although Dr. Tribbut told them bluntly that it would never improve. Rest would help slow the deterioration of his nerves. Halcyon was too stubborn to rest, not when he was certain he could find his own damned cure and run his business while he did so. Unwilling to watch him run himself down, unable to prevent him, Anastasia found refuge in her laboratory. She'd had some remarkable insights on artificial intelligence as modeled on insect patterns rather than human patterns, and she spent long hours designing models and testing her theories. When she pulled herself away from the lab, he would already be in bed if the nurse had been by, or in his study reading if she had not. Sometimes she would crawl into bed beside him and wrap her arms around his shrinking body. Sometimes she slept on the couch. She was never sure he noticed either way. There had been nights, long before, spent lazing beneath a gibbous moon with this lover or that. The kings would have brought her perfumes and jewels, the poets their songs, the most earnest only their devotion. She had been a goddess to them, worshiped and beloved and feared. She'd taken gods to her bed, and the only king before whom she would kneel. Now she slept in flannel pajamas with a mortal who had lost most of the feeling below his waist, who rarely spoke to her, and whom she loved more than she could say. Perhaps this was the humility of which Oberon had spoken. She thought of him often, wondering where he was, if he also thought on her from time to time. And life continued. *** June 13, 1988 *** "Hi Mom." The voice on the line was an enthusiastic as ever, which was to say not. "Hello, dear. How are you?" "I've got a problem." "Have you been arrested?" She blinked away images from her sight: her child, a gun against a woman's head, everywhere the blue of policemen, the shush of wings. "No, nothing like that. Tara and Dingo broke up, and she's kicking us both out. Can we come home? It'll just be until we can get a place." "Of course you can come home." The joy suffusing through her suddenly dimmed. "We?" "Dingo wants to see New York. The only place he's been in the States has been California. I think you'll like him. Thanks, Mom." She heard a kissing noise from the phone. "We're driving, so we'll see you Saturday." *click* Anastasia sat back and placed the receiver in its cradle. The circuit diagrams on her desk pleaded for her attention. She ignored them and dialed her husband's extension. After three rings, Gladys picked up. "Gladys, where is Doctor Renard?" "He's in his office." "Are you certain?" "I saw him go in not ten minutes ago." "Thank you," she mumbled and dropped the phone, already out her door and down the hall. She opened his door without knocking, expecting the worst. Halcyon sat at his desk, Owen at one side, David at the other. All three heads bobbed up simultaneously at her flustered entrance. "You're all right ... " she said. "Shouldn't I be?" "I called, but you didn't answer." "I turned off the ringer. Gladys was supposed to be taking my messages." He looked vaguely annoyed at her interruption. "As long as you're here, you might as well take a look at this." He pushed the file he was inspecting towards her. Still upset, and embarrassed at being seen in such an emotional flurry by two of their employees, she grabbed it and held it closer to her face than she needed. "It's Anton," she said. The next page had a photograph of a cat. At least, she was fairly certain it had been a cat. "Yes," said Owen. "It appears Dr. Sevarius is engaging in some unauthorized experimentation." Her stomach rolled once. "I'll have a talk with him," said David smoothly. "Perhaps a vacation might be in order." "I'll go with you," she said. Halcyon asked, "Was there something else? Or did you just feel like flying into the office for no particular reason?" Once more, she squelched her immediate reply. "Janine called. She will be returning home on Saturday. And she's bringing a friend." Several emotions passed over his features; she was relieved to note that one was happiness. "I see," he said. "I knew she'd come crawling back eventually." "She's not crawling. They're going to get an apartment as soon as they find jobs." "Of course they are." David looked politely puzzled. Halcyon smiled. "Oh, yes. You haven't met Janine yet." "I'm sure I will," he replied. Anastasia felt a chill. She glanced at Owen, but he remained as impassive as ever. *** "Anton, can you please explain this?" She placed the file in front of him. "I see you've met Sylvester. He's a prototype. Do you like him?" "He's a monstrosity," said David. "What did you do to him?" "Not much." He walked past them into his lab. He opened a cage and pulled out the scrawny subject of the photograph. "Isn't he a good widdle puddy-tat?" he cooed. Anastasia approached the doctor and the cat. A metal cap sat over half of Sylvester's head. Two legs and a tail had been replaced with metal prosthetics. He looked like a cross between a cat and an Erector Set. She held out her hand. The cat didn't move or flinch or blink. "What's wrong with him?" "A side-effect of the integration process, I'm afraid. In order to study his nervous system, I needed to sample the responses directly." Sylvester continued to stare blankly. David asked incredulously, "You gave a lobotomy to a cat?" "Not intentionally. I had much better luck with the next subject." He put Sylvester back and pulled out another cat, with much the same gear as its predecessor. "Meet Mr. Jinx." The cat miaowed and nuzzled his hand. "The trick is to know where to make the incision." "That will be enough," said Anastasia. "There will be no more incisions. This part of your research has just ended." "But Doctor! I've gotten some very positive results. Would you care to see?" "No I would not." She *almost* fired him on the spot. His mind was sharp, and she needed him. There was the matter of a certain personal project which she was certain he would undertake if given just the right inspiration. "No more cybernetic implants. You're a geneticist." "But this could revolutionize the study of genetics *and* prosthetics. Within a few generations, I could breed a species dependent upon implants. They'd be smarter than us, faster than us, and easily adaptable. Think of the potential." She did. "Drop the project, or you will be seeking new employment." She left without waiting for David to follow. *** When the doorbell rang, Anastasia pretended that she had not been watching as the car pulled up, nor as Janine, clad in a blouse and ripped jeans, her hair in a loose knot, strolled up the walkway, her friend in tow. She inspected the curio cabinet in the hallway, an heirloom from Halcyon's mother of glass and wrought iron and mirrors, filled with little china hummingbirds sipping at little china flowers. When she'd calmed herself, she opened the door in a dignified manner, was besieged by an armful of daughter. Halcyon came up beside them, his only noise the squeak of his wheels. "Mom, Dad, this is Dingo." Halcyon craned his neck up to see the large man beside their daughter. Anastasia extended her hand. "It's nice to meet you. Janine has told us so much about you." "She has?" asked her husband. A ponytail and mohawk had most likely not entered his mind when Janine had mentioned her friend. "Erm. Nicetameetcha." Dingo flushed, then inspected his booted feet. Halcyon's gaze followed his to the antique carpet covering the polished wood of the hall floor. Janine set down her duffel and hugged her father. "Like I said, we won't be here long. We just need to find a place of our own and we'll be out of your hair." She pulled back and Anastasia took her chin. "I like." Janine grinned and winked her eye. The glittery blue makeup over her birthmark shimmered. "I did, too. Figured hiding the thing was too much trouble. Emphasizing it takes even longer, but I love the way it looks." "Yes," she said quietly. Why had she never noticed the shape before? Had she buried herself so deeply in her role that she could not recognize the simplest sign? "Welcome home, dear." Dingo mumbled, "Thanks fer lettin' us stay with ya." Anastasia caught his reflection in the cabinet. Through the glass, he was large and dazzling, an uncut diamond. "I was sorry to hear about Tara," she said. "Well, you know. Given a choice between Mel Gibson and my ugly mug, I'd have to choose Mel, too." "Stop it," said Fox sweetly, and put her duffel into his hands. "My room is the third door on the left upstairs. The guest room is the first door. That's where you sleep." "Gotcha." He nodded to Anastasia and Halcyon, and went up the stairs. She went back outside, presumably to get another load from the car. "I don't like this," said Halcyon. "She's home," said Anastasia. "That's all that matters." "She's been living with a man. She's brought him to our house. His name is Dingo." "She's an adult. And they're just friends. I think." Janine came back in with an armload of electronic equipment, just as a shout came from upstairs: "Hey, Fox! Where's the dunny?" "Between our rooms!" "Thanks!" "'Fox?'" asked her husband dourly. Janine shrugged around the stereo. "Tara always called me that. It's a little joke. Dingo picked it up, and I kinda like it." "Your name is Janine." "Yes, Daddy." She bent over and kissed him on the cheek. The light caught the peacock sparkle of her makeup. "Janine," she had almost said "Fox", "we're have a little get- together this evening with some of our business associates. Do you have anything semi-formal with you?" "I can find something." She frowned. "I think the most formal thing Dingo owns is a black t-shirt without holes in it." "That'll be fine," Halcyon said, and turned towards his study, ending the conversation abruptly. *** Anastasia had changed into a simply-tailored sky-blue dress. As she pinned her hair up, she noticed silver threads peeking through the auburn mass. She dropped the hair and the pins, stared at the stranger in the mirror. Rarely had she lingered anywhere for time enough to grow grey hairs. The Queen of Faerie always sought youth and spring, always fled before the snow and what it meant. She had been a maid long ago, and she was again a mother. For mortals, the last age came at fifty. Her own given age was forty-seven; three years of late summer remained to her. She picked up her hairbrush, struck at her hair with broad strokes. As she did, she bid the hairs revert to their darker shade, the fine lines around her eyes to fade. A touch here, a tug there, and she was physically thirty-five. "Just this once." "Did you say something?" "No." She turned. "Let me help with that." She assisted her husband as he struggled into his dress slacks, then brought the wheelchair beside him. "Your hair ... " "What about it?" "It looks lovely down. I just noticed." He blinked, as if trying to clear his vision. Then he smiled. It had been a long time. "Let's go greet the guests." *** The airy strains of "Vienna Woods" floated through the parlour from Halcyon's vintage record player. Light conversation sprinkled the room, as scientists and businessmen met on the unsteady common ground of small talk. Halcyon held his position near the door, in deep discussion with Mason and Martens. Janine had not yet deigned to appear, leaving Anastasia to be both charming hostess and fluttering nag as she hurried back and forth from the kitchen. The cook's assistant for the evening was also her niece, a plump, pleasant, and clumsy girl who was singlehandedly delaying the meal by half an hour. Back from yet another brave foray into her own kitchen, Anastasia spotted Mathers and her escort for the evening. "Diana! How nice that you could come." They chatted idly for a few moments, while Anastasia strained to hear any possible sounds of anguish from the direction of the dining room. Mathers' date, a handsome man with curly dark hair who couldn't have been older than Janine, remained quiet as they talked, nodding in the right places. Anastasia had already forgotten his name, thought it might be Richard something. When Diana excused herself for a few minutes, Anastasia took the opportunity to ask him what he did for a living. Instead of responding, his eyes moved past her. It took her several moments to realize his attention had been drawn to a specific point, as had that of most of the males in the room. What concerned her most, when she pondered the scene much later, was her daughter's utter absence of magical ability. Not once in her life had she demonstrated the least tendency towards the arcane. Had she shown some interest, some outward talent other than her remarkable gymnastic ability, Anastasia would have easily categorized her striking effect on the room as a result of a simply-cast glamour. As she had no such interest, in fact laughed at crystals and fortune-telling and never mind true magic, the only explanation possible was that her precious child could at will summon the sex appeal of a goddess. Janine wore a deceptively simple silk dress, emerald green with a scooped waist and spaghetti straps accentuating her delicate shoulders, which hung demurely well-past her knees. Her hair, tossed into a loose "I didn't spend more than a minute on this" style that had probably taken an hour or more to complete, burned against the cool green at her back. A single green stone nestled like a teardrop in the hollow of her throat. Anastasia heard several intakes of breath, and not just from the men. In Diana's eyes, frozen as she had been exiting the room, In the eyes of several other women present, there was awe, and a little fear. The moment did not shatter so much as fizzle when Dingo entered the room behind her. Somewhere, he'd found a dress shirt that almost fit his heavy torso. He had not been as fortunate on the trousers, and wore black jeans with no visible holes. The poor man resembled the proverbial deer in headlights as he glanced around the assembled guests. Anastasia felt her first warm emotion towards him, pitying what Janine probably had thought would be a good experience for him. "Are we late?" her daughter asked mockingly. The guests reluctantly returned to their own conversations, some stealing glances to the couple. Belatedly, Anastasia sought out Owen's reaction, found him impassively discussing finance strategies with the head of the accounting firm they patronized. "Only by a little," she said. "Come meet everyone." Janine floated rather than walked through the room, Dingo a pace behind her. She was beginning to see a pattern to him: he was not so much trying to show respect as trying to keep up with the girl on her breakneck pace through life. Unintentionally, Anastasia cast her thoughts forward, and knew that he might love her daughter or not, but that Janine would never take him as a mate. Relieved, she introduced them to Mathers, who had quickly turned heel to place a protective hand on her date's arm. "Stockbroker," said Richard. The rest of them stared back blankly. "You asked what I do. I'm a stockbroker. My company deals mainly with marginal sales on oil futures." "Must be a hell of a warehouse," mumbled Dingo. Janine laughed, while Richard and Diana looked on, puzzled. "Nice to see you decided to join us," said Halcyon, wheeling up to their little group with Parker from Webster Scientific and David close behind. Mason and Martens had joined the finance discussion. Other knots had separated and reformed in the continental drift of party guests. Only Preston stood alone, and he seemed to be busy inspecting a potted plant. Janine bent over and gave Halcyon a proper kiss on the forehead. "Sorry we weren't here sooner. I had to take Dingo shopping." "Right lot of good that did," her escort replied, all either would give as an apology. Halcyon frowned momentarily, then settled into a fake, comfortable smile as the others laughed politely. "Anne, may I present my daughter Janine. Janine, Anne Parker." The two shook hands almost pleasantly; Parker's husband across the room had been especially open in his initial admiration of Janine's outfit. The other woman was visibly relieved when Janine introduced her companion. "Charmed, I'm sure." Halcyon nodded to his young assistant. "And this devil is David Xanatos. I don't believe you've met." "Miss Renard." When she held out her hand, he took it, and in a smooth motion, brought it to his lips with a smile. Taken off-guard, she said only, "Hi!" Dingo smirked. "Lost yer tongue there, eh Fox?" Mathers scolded David: "You know better than that. No hitting on the boss's daughter." He laughed, and still holding her hand, shook it firmly. "Never hurts to try. Nice to meet you, Fox." "Her name is Janine," said Halcyon. "But you can call me Fox." She had completely recovered, and was now playing along, continuing what was becoming the longest handshake of the evening. "A pleasure, David." "Dinner is served!" The cook's announcement caught the attention of the entire room, and Anastasia remembered that she was still hostess. "Everyone, if you'll please follow us to the dining room, Amanda has fixed a lovely meal I'm sure you'll enjoy." She placed her hands comfortably on Halcyon's shoulders as he led the way, then looked back for Janine. With some disquiet, she noticed she still had David's hand, and only when they turned to follow the rest into the dining room did she let it go to hang at his side, millimeters away from her own. *** October 31, 1988 *** She was elbow-deep in paperwork when the phone rang. She picked it up, muttering silently that Gladys could at least screen her calls when she requested. "Yes?" "Is this Anastasia Lisle Renard?" A male voice, unfamiliar. "Yes." She rubbed her forehead. It had been a long Monday. "Dr. Renard, are you familiar with the works of William Shakespeare?" A smile spread across her face. Her headache slowly faded. "I've read one or two of his plays. He was astoundingly inaccurate on some details." "That he was." She heard a covered snicker in the background. "Shall I come through the line and find you, or do you simply want to tell me who you are?" She heard an answering howl from the other end. "Coyote! How on earth did you get this number?" "I asked Vivienne what name you were using these days." Vivienne? "You're in New York!" "And I'm not alone," he said mysteriously. She heard the laugh again. "Is that Raven?" "Yep." Mumble. "He says hi. Look, we thought that since we're here, and this being Samhain and all, perhaps you'd be interested in joining us for a night on the town. Viv says the Puck's somewhere around. We'll track him down and have a little get-together." "You won't have to track him far. His office is down the hall from mine." Dead silence, broken by: "Office?" "It's a game." She sighed. "I'll let him know you're in town. I wish I could join you." "Why can't you?" She nearly reprimanded him, then recalled that she had no right. She was not, technically, the Queen, although there was not one among their kind who still did not treat her as such. Why *couldn't* she? Janine had already made plans with some friends. She herself had planned on convincing Halcyon to leave early, and welcome the new year snuggling in front of the television. They'd probably nod off before ten, and he none the wiser for the true significance of the night. She knew he would never understand if she told him about the Quarters and the High Holidays and the walls between the worlds. Those were relegated in this modern world to neopagans and rebellious Catholic schoolchildren, not respected scientists. "I have a great deal of work to do," she hemmed. "Which can wait until later," said a new voice, Vivienne. "Lady, with all due respect, you have spent too much time walking among the mortals. Join us for one night and remember who you once were." She heard a shuffle, then Coyote said, "What she said. It'll be fuuuuuun." "All right, all right. I'll meet you, and I'll bring the Puck with me." "They're coming," he said away from the mouthpiece, then to her: "Great! We'll meet you by Cleopatra's Needle at six." *click* She checked her watch. Ten past five. She went to Owen's office, tapped lightly on the glass. "Come in." He sat at his desk, a small lamp shining over the neatly organized contracts he perused. His glasses caught the reflection of their light, making his look as if he had two large white spaces where he should have eyes. "Yes, Doctor?" "I just received a most interesting telephone call." "Indeed." "It appears that two young gentleman of our acquaintance have come into town, and are requesting our presence this evening." "I see. May I ask their identities?" "Coyote and Raven. They found my name from Vivienne." He did not smile; Owen never smiled. However, his face became slightly less dour, slightly more puckish. "What response did you give them?" "I told them that Titania and Puck would meet them at six beside Cleopatra's Needle." "Have you mentioned this to Renard?" "Not yet." Neither spoke for a moment. Then Owen clicked off his lamp, slid the top stack of papers into his briefcase, and shut it. "I'll be leaving now. Good evening, Dr. Renard." "Good evening, Owen." *** At quarter past six, the twilight sinking into darkness, Anastasia was hurrying through Central Park, swearing at herself and wishing she'd left sooner. Her flats left dark stains as they bruised the grass beneath her and scattered the leaves, apple-red maples and crispy brown oaks. She was late, and she disliked being late. She thought briefly on Halcyon's response to her quick excuse, of two old friends suddenly come to town. The truth tasted like a lie, and she'd not met his eyes. He had not even raised his head from his work, so intent was he. He'd nodded, told her to have a good time, and been drawn back into whatever he was doing. Prestom, ever at his shoulder these days, had paid her more attention than he. As if it didn't matter to him that she was going out without him. As if he expected her to go. As if ... She heard a *snap* of branch behind her, and stopped dead. Half-expecting Coyote, she looked behind her. The man's face was unfamiliar, but that meant nothing. Faces were worn and discarded like gloves among their kind. "Yes?" she asked politely. He smiled, not in a friendly fashion. "Gettin' a little late for a pretty lady to be walking all by herself." "And speaking of which, I'm late for an appointment. Unless you're one of the people I'm supposed to meet, I really must be going." And she turned back towards the Needle, which she could just see over the tops of the trees. Another sound came from behind, the slick snap of oiled hinges on a sharp steel blade as a hand like iron clamped across her throat, cutting her air off. "You're going to be a little later than you thought." The knife flashed. She transformed. Over twenty years bound to one form, one body that grew and aged and faded as mortals were wont to do, and her instincts were back in an eyeblink. A yellow, slitted eyeblink. Her would-be assailant found himself holding a squirming armload of naga. In terror, he dropped her, as she writhed on the ground and slithered her form upright. He stepped back, and she hissed threateningly, beckoning him with her eyes. "Sssstay." She coiled around him suggestively, undulating around his arms and knees. "Ssssuch a sssssmall thing. What did you want from me?" "Please ... Please let me go ... " "Ssssilenssssse!" He closed his mouth, moaned as she flicked the forks of her tongue at his chin and placed needle-like fangs against the loathsome scent of his throat. ~Kill him,~ whispered the savage voice within her. She pressed her fangs, indented the sweaty skin, tightened her coils to strike and crush at once. ~Yes.~ "No," she said, drawing her head back. She relaxed the coils, let him slide limply to the ground. "If I ever ssssee you again, you will die." He scrambled backwards, crying like a scared babe, scratching his hands on sharp stones and twigs. When he looked back at her, she hissed. Yelping, he ran as she watched, disgusted. When the noise of his departure had faded, she closed her eyes and transformed again. Her tail split into two shapely legs, her torso sprouted arms, and her face elongated, became more pointed. Titania, once and future Queen of Avalon, went to keep her appointment at Cleopatra's Needle. *** Bare lights showed in the remaining streetlamps, highlighting the debris filling the gutters of the alleyway. Titania stepped over something gooey, tried not to think about what it might have been. "When you said we were doing the town, this wasn't what I had in mind." Puck, wearing the form he most often had during his three thousand years of life, pouted as he walked beside Raven. Coyote, dog head poking incongruously from a black leather jacket, was several paces ahead, had waved the rest to stay back. "We'll only be here for a few minutes," Raven replied. "This is why we came to town." Vivienne chuckled. "I thought she threw you out again." Raven glared at her. "She *didn't* throw me out." "Of course not," said Titania, in what she hoped was a comforting tone. A less likely couple she'd never known than Raven and Grandmother. She was a Guide, he a Trickster. She was dedicated to preserving the old ways, he to disrupting them. He was fire, she a cool mountain river, and somehow, they had stayed married and living together for the better part of two millennia. Their frequent tussles had always been a source of amusement for the rest of the family, mainly to see who was winning. "Shhhh," called Coyote, and waved Raven forward with him, indicating the rest of them should stay back and observe. As she watched, curious, the pair transformed into young human men. Raven pulled two grimy bottles from under his jacket and handed one to Coyote. They began talking loudly, guffawing from time to time, and making suggestive comments about Titania and Vivienne. "This had better be good," Vivienne whispered, and took Puck's arm. The two were of a height, their matching white-blond hair making them appear to be siblings. Four teenaged boys crossed the street, heading towards them. Titania heard one of them mutter something about a shortcut. Two of the boys were Black, two nominally White, all with the air of suburban kids trying not to look like suburban kids lost at night on Halloween in Manhattan. Coyote took a swig from his bottle and belched. "Derek!" One of the boys turned his head. "Wha --- ?" "Yeah, dat's him," said Raven unsteadily. "We met at Rob's party," said Coyote. "'Member?" The other three boys gave the two apparently drunk males a wide berth. Coyote slapped the boy he'd called Derek on the shoulder. "How ya doin'?" "Okay," said the boy. "I remember now. Your name's Brandon," he said to Raven, who waved his bottle in reply. "And you are ... " "Call me 'Bozho," Coyote said, and belched again. "Glad we ran inna you. Wanted to tell you, what you said at the party, 'bout college 'n all, you were right. Goin' to college, man, that's no place for people like us. We need to live! We need to experience! Suck the ... something out of life!" He hit Derek's shoulder. Derek rubbed it. "You and I, we gotta be out there doing, not learning what some old White fart wants us to. Y'know?" "I know," said the boy, and rubbed his shoulder again. "I knew ya would." Coyote enveloped him in a sloppy hug. "Me? I never wenna college, 'n I turned out great. I'm happy, got my buddy here," Raven managed a respectable burp, "life is sweet if you know where to find it." "We really have to get going," said Derek. "It was ... nice seeing you." "Bye! Don't be a stranger!" He waved his bottle and laughed until the boys had hurried around the corner, shooting glances back at the pair and whispering amongst themselves. Titania barely caught a "You actually know those guys?" and they were gone. Raven wiped a hand over his face, restoring his fay features. "Are we done now?" Coyote continued to laugh. "What's up, hyena boy?" asked Puck. "I was just thinking," said Coyote, keeping his human face but cleaning it with a whisk of his hand. "Sad thing is they probably won't even invite me to his graduation." He flicked the bottle away to crash and gurgle its contents onto the sidewalk. "Now let's party." *** " ... This is Arnie in the sky, watching over the Halloween festivities in midtown Manhattan. If you were planning on driving in, forget it. Fifth Avenue has been closed down and opened to party-goers. In fact ... " Defying logic and physics, a bird the size of a full-grown grizzly bear hovered outside the window, two black beads for eyes looking hungrily at them. Arnie stared. His pilot, Harry, also stared. The bird was joined by a dog in a leather jacket and a little man with pointed ears and long white hair, who grabbed the bird by the neck. They zipped about a hundred yards away, were joined in midair by a normal-looking woman but for the fact that she was thirty stories above the street, and a woman with skin the colour of the sea. The five of them waved, then disappeared in a flash of green light. "Did ... Did we get that on camera?" Arnie pried his fingers from their death-grip on the mike. "Nope." "Good. Buy you a drink?" "Buy me a lot of drinks." "Me too." *** After the spitting contest off the Empire State Building, which Puck won, and that unintentional encounter with the poor fellows in the helicopter, they found a nice restaurant and bar that wasn't holding a costume party, and hijacked a table lit with guttering orange candles near the back. Titania handed over a credit card in the name of Anastasia Lisle to the waiter, and the drinks flowed. "So there I was, minding my own business ... " "And everyone else's," added Puck. "Everyone else's business *is* my business. Anyway, so there I was, and this guy," Coyote chucked a thumb at Raven, "pulls up on a bike and asks me if I want to do a roadtrip. I figure, what the heck. I got people here I want to look up, and it's been a good century since I've been to he East Coast. I say 'Sure.' "We get stopped in Texas. I zap up some i.d. no problem, but Raven still thinks he's in Canada." "Texas police officers don't like Canadians," said Raven. "You know," said Vivienne, "you wouldn't run into problems like these if you'd just transport, or transform and fly." Coyote replied, "Spoken like someone who's never been on the open road. Viv, you gotta get out of your lake more often." "I am quite happy where I am. I have had enough of the World; it is for mortals, not for us." While the comment was directed at Coyote, Titania felt it strike home within her. Vivienne disapproved of too much contact with mortals, wishing to spend her own banishment quietly awaiting the Gathering. Once she had been active in mortal affairs, but the death of her halfling daughter had changed her, saddened her. Vivienne mourned Nimue, and Titania mourned the Vivienne who used to be. "So what happened?" Puck prodded. "What could we do?" said Coyote. "He had us on speeding, and Raven without a passport. "I pulled out a portable hole. We stepped through and watched as the poor guy tried to figure out where we went. Raven poked his head back out the hole, waved at the cop, told him his shoes were untied, and popped back out again. Cop kept trying to jump in the hole. We took the bikes and split." There was laughter, and the waiter refilled their drinks. "So," said Coyote, looking into the golden depths of his muscatel as he leaned back on the hind legs of his chair, "have you heard from him lately?" There was no doubt as to whom he was referring. "I haven't seen him since Prague, 1873." She sipped at her wine. "When he's ready, he may find me." "Don't make it too soon?" asked Raven. "I rather like this world, myself." "I'll see what I can do." "It won't be soon," said Puck. "*Somebody* married a mortal." Coyote's chair slammed to the floor. "You remarried?" "There is a child," said Vivienne. Raven and Coyote shared a glance. Puck remained silent. "The answer to your question is yes, she's mortal. No, she doesn't know." "It's better that way," Vivienne said. "Is it?" Janine had apparently calmed down much since her homecoming. True to her word, she and Dingo had found an apartment in Queens. She still swore they weren't sleeping together, and Anastasia tended to believe her. Halcyon had reluctantly agreed to make Dingo a security guard at Cyberbiotics, and Janine had returned to school. She'd changed her major to history, and expected to graduate in May. Anastasia was proud of her, but wondered in the back of her mind if this was the best destiny for her daughter, if it wouldn't have been better to raise her in the knowledge of her own potential, make her a sorceress rather than an historian. "And speaking of the devil," muttered Puck. "Don't turn around, but guess who's here." She looked anyway. Janine, who'd said she would be out with friends tonight, had just been seated at a booth not ten feet away from their table. Her skintight bodysuit was orange, white and black, and she wore matching folded paper ears in her hair. A black velvet mask covered the eyes of her escort, a black cape disguising his body. Anastasia knew his face and form, with or without the mask, and was suddenly very glad to be in her own true form. It was the perfect costume, the perfect disguise. Janine and David would never recognize her. "They're certainly ... cozy," said Raven. "Stop staring," admonished Titania, and stared into her own drink. How long had this been going on and why hadn't she known? She turned to Puck. "Did you know?" "Not before this moment." He cast another glance over. "Boy have I missed a lot." "As have I." "You know what?" asked Raven. "Chickenbutt," answered Coyote and Puck automatically. The three of them chuckled. Tricksters. Vivienne said, "We need music." "Music for our Lady du Lac!" shouted Coyote, too loudly. Janine looked over. He offered her a slow wink, and she looked away again. He found a jukebox in the corner of the room, something which Titania, not to mention the staff, would swear hadn't been there before. Jerry Lee Lewis filled the air. ~You're worried.~ ~Yes. Look at them.~ Puck casually moved his head towards Janine and David. They watched as she idly brushed her hair behind her ear and laughed at something he'd said. Titania noted the casual fit of his arm to her waist, the amorous sparkle in his eyes and voice, the way he touched her and she him. If they were not already lovers, they would be by the end of the night. ~Not to be indiscrete, but it isn't like he's the first one.~ ~No.~ There had been others, she knew, some Halcyon would have liked far less than Dingo had he been aware of them. The flavour of their spirits had been different, wild in some aspects, dull in others, and she trusted Janine to realize they were for play and experimentation only. ~But this one is different. She could bond with him.~ ~She's only twenty-two. She shouldn't be thinking about taking a life-mate yet.~ ~I doubt she's thinking in terms of life-mate right now. Looks to me like she's thinking in terms of getting ... ~ ~Thank you, Puck.~ He smirked at her over the rim of his glass. He'd been ordering water all night; she had the feeling he was converting it to cider. "Raven," she asked, "how is that charming sister of yours?" Puck lost his smile and grew suddenly interested in the tablecloth. Raven snorted. "As if she speaks to me. I haven't heard from her in a good fifty years, and that by accident." "Give her my best if you do see her." In her mind's eye, she had a sudden clear, sharp image of the Puck, sticking his tongue out at her. In real-time, he continued to scowl at the table as their conversation turned to other things. Janine and David stayed until eleven-thirty. As they left, Titania watched and worried. She could not hear them as they walked away, would not dare to slip inside her daughter's mind simply to reaffirm what she already knew from the movement of her body. How long had it been since she had played such games of teasing and enticing, of reluctant submission when in reality she had controlled the chase and the pursuer from the first glance? Halcyon had been her last great conquest. She who had taken hundreds of lovers to her bed during her marriage to the Fairy King had remained faithful to a fragile mortal for twenty-three years. Their lovemaking, once fiery, had been sporadic over the last five years, and due to his illness, non-existent in the past two. She watched her daughter with both concern and envy. "He's too old for her," she said quietly, but if she was referring to Janine or herself, she did not know. At midnight, to the confusion of the other patrons, the group of them led a rousing chorus of "Auld Lang Syne." Titania pretended to recover her good mood, allowed the ebullience of her friends raise her spirits or at least her glass for toast after toast. In her true form, or as close to her true form as mortals could see and still live, she metabolised alcohol as it touched her tongue. Several bottles into the night, she was entirely sober and on a sugar rush. Vivienne surrendered first, claiming fatigue. Coyote teased her about having to get up early to drain the pond, then hugged her. Titania took the opportunity to bow out as well. She bade Raven deliver her best wishes to his wife, gave Coyote a friendly scratch behind the ears, and admonished Puck that she still expected him to be at work on time in the morning. With a last wave, the boys returned to their drinks and their bragging contest. The two women walked back through the city, and then the Park, each wrapped inside her own thoughts. Only when they reached the lake in which Vivienne currently made her home did the younger woman speak to her. "As a halfling, she would be forever caught between two worlds, neither of which can she have. Let her be mortal, my Lady. Let her think she knows who and what she is, even if she is mistaken. She would be unhappy pretending to be someone she is not." She placed her white arms around Titania's neck, then pulled away and slipped below the murky waters. Titania walked home alone, casting inconspicuousness about herself like a robe. Her key slid into the lock as always, and she let herself inside. Her reflection shone in the curio cabinet like a beacon of aquamarine and coral. She watched herself as she transformed, saw her skin become pale and bland, her vibrant hair darken, her wasp's waist swell, her breasts sag, her face reshape from an immortal goddess to a woman of forty-eight. Anastasia stared back at her from the glass box until she moved her eyes. Despite her human form and the late hour, she was awake, thrumming with life as the climbed the stairs. She undressed quickly, slid into bed with her husband, attempted to waken him with the tips of her fingernails. It had been ages since she'd felt so young, and she longed to share. Halcyon opened his eyes, said something unintelligible, and used his arms to roll himself over. She curled up behind him, contented herself with cuddling against him, tried to block behind her eyelids the thrill of soaring through space without wings. *** June 20, 1989 *** *tap tap tap* Three precise, clear knocks at her door. "Yes, Owen?" "May I come in, Doctor?" "Of course." For a man who apparently had no emotions, Owen looked positively pensive as he stood forlornly by her desk. "Please sit. Now what is it?" He paused for a moment. "I have been approached with a most unusual proposition." ~Is she cute?~ she sent out teasingly, but received no reply. "What kind of proposition?" "I've been offered three times my present salary to work at a newly-formed corporation." "What would your new duties entail?" "That was not made apparent. However, from what I can deduce, I would effectively be third in command, so to speak." "I see." She did not see. Had Oberon approached him? Dear gods, had he finally gotten sick of her after all and taken another wife? This could upset her plans considerably. "I don't believe you do. The young corporation is named Xanatos Enterprises." She sat back in her chair. "Do tell." "I cannot. As I said, I was offered three times my salary. That is all I know for certain. I can presume I am not the only Cyberbiotics employee to whom this offer has been made." "Are you going to take it?" "I had no such plans. I thought you should be informed, in order to take whatever steps you felt necessary to quell any losses on the part of the company." She stood, faced away from him into the city. "Does Janine know?" "I believe so." The early evening was still sunny on the crystal faces of the surrounding buildings. Their tower, just finished this past May, looked out over them all. She remembered the old lab, the first lab, and found this new steel and glass construction to be too tall, too sterile, too wrong. "I have a question for you, and I must have an honest answer, the most honest you can give. Do you understand?" "Ask." "To whom are you ultimately loyal?" "I believe you know the answer to that question." She studied his blue eyes, found them clear of deceit. "Do this for me. Find the price of Owen Burnett, whatever it might be, and let David pay it. When he leaves, when *they* leave," she amended, "I want you to go with them." "May I ask why?" Because I have been watching them for months, and I have seen her eyes when she looks at him. Because they are not as clever as they think. Because I nearly walked in once when they were ... together in his office. Because I believe she loves him although she does not know that yet, and if he breaks her heart, it will be forever. "Because I cannot." "I cannot interfere." "You can watch, and guide. That is all I ask." She asked not just for herself and Janine. She had also observed him in his game, saw that the daily boredom of his life grated on him, although he would never say so. She understood, as each day tugged her farther from the hot-blooded dance that was her other existence. He inclined his head. "As you wish, Madame." He stood. "If you'll excuse me." She nodded, and did not watch him go. Her eyes went to the city, and to the boundless sea beyond its reach. *** June 30, 1989 *** The air was hot and sticky in the boardroom. Thousands of dollars for a state of the art cooling system, and it had broken a month after the building's completion. Fans were stationed to circulate stale air around the room; the windows had been designed not to open. Anastasia fanned herself with a folded paper and hoped for a short meeting. She was not likely to get her wish. "Would you look at these expenditures?" Halcyon slapped the file to the table. She jumped at the noise. He surveyed the group gathered at the table. In the years since she'd first joined Cyberbiotics, they had grown enormously. Fifteen young executives now did the job that once Halcyon had done alone. Each one had a staff to oversee her or his branch. Their head of security had a larger office than she'd had at the old lab. Her husband called it bloat, David called it progress, and she was simply glad they didn't have to personally oversee every detail of the business anymore. Preston cleared his throat. Halcyon silenced him with a wave. "I had Mr. Vogel go through the files. The experiments undertaken by Dr. Sevarius and his staff were dully approved and sanctioned." Grumbling, shifting noises came from the assembly, as each person in the room tried to determine which of the others was the guilty party. Anastasia remained still. Her part in Anton's continuing research could not have been detected by Preston or any other. He sickened her, but at the same time, he had the potential to create what she needed. "Mr. Xanatos, can you please explain for the rest of us how you possibly believed that Cyberbiotics was interested in biological warfare?" Every head in the room turned towards the most upwardly mobile executive on the Board. David smiled easily at Halcyon. "I had no such intentions. Anton is very close to making a breakthrough on his research into genetic recombination. He needed several pieces of equipment which he used while he worked for a certain Government agency. In exchange for their loan, he perfected a few small strains of bacteria. If you'll look to this report," he handed over a thick manila file, "you'll see that the deal is netting us a substantial profit. I was going to tell you when the check cleared." Halcyon glanced through the file, unsmiling. Janine, who had taken a silent perch near her father's chair, covered her grin with her hand. "This does not excuse the fact that you did not clear the project with this Board. You knew very well that it would have been rejected." He found another file. "Neither would this. Smart weapons manufacture?" "A sub-contract of our A.I. research. We've just received a substantial grant from the Army, for technology we've already developed and would merely need to modify." "We are *not* accepting funding from the military." Halcyon sat rigidly in his chair. "We already have." David remained calmly in his own. Like two chess masters, they played their pieces one by one, with the rest of them relegated to audience members. Halcyon's resolve would never slip, but his control over the situation was skidding away from him like a smooth pebble over water. He played his last card, surely thinking it a trump. "Don't you think I know what you've been doing? I'm not blind." She saw more than one person suddenly find something interesting in the pattern of the ceiling tiles. "You've been slipping underneath my command for months, authorizing projects, convincing the rest of my employees that you would be the perfect choice as my replacement. You've gone as low," he swallowed, "as to seduce my daughter to advance your career." So he did know. The attention in the room shifted to Janine. Her daughter laughed. In the hot air, it fell like an ugly slap. "You really *are* blind, aren't you, Dad? Screwing's a two-way street, or don't you remember?" She stood, moved next to David. Halcyon watched her, shock aging his face even more. His voice shook. "See what you've turned Janine into?" "*Fox* was already who she wanted to be," David replied quietly. "Get out. Never come back." The words came on thin breath. They were directed squarely towards David. He was not, however, the only one to heed them. Anastasia closed her eyes. The shuffling began. Bodies moved past her, faceless shapes in her self-imposed darkness. The stifling heat lessened with their passage. Only when the door closed did she allow herself to see. David, Janine and Owen were gone, as she'd expected. Of the rest of the Board, nine remained. Preston, his face gone quite pale, stood beside Halcyon's chair. Her husband stared into space. She went to him, took his hand, but he did not look at her. "Please go," he said quietly. "I need to be alone now." "I'll be in my office," she whispered, and filed out with the rest. When she reached her desk, she found twelve resignations stacked neatly on it. By five pm, the stack had grown to sixty- three. They had lost executives, Ph.D.'s, security guards, lab technicians, secretaries, and two kids from the mailroom. Sevarius had tendered his resignation, which did not surprise her. His research staff went with him, from the grim postdoc to the maintenance crew. Dingo came by personally to hand in his two- weeks' notice, and had the decency to look embarrassed as he did so. She asked him to keep an eye on Janine, as he would expect her to ask. He mumbled agreement and fled. Her daughter was gone, under the protection of Dingo, whom she had no reason to trust, and the Puck, who had many reasons to hate her and only one for obeying her. Had she been in her true guise, she would have laughed, but she was mortal today, and so could afford herself the luxury of tears. *** February 3, 1990 *** Flames licked at the rooftops, devouring children and shrieking women, the lucky ones. Unwashed soldiers, the grime of ten years' sweat and dirt ground into their beards, grabbed young girls and lithe boys for their later amusement on the long voyage back to Mycenae. Menelaus' men had already taken the palace, were spitting infants two and three to a sword. None of Helen's children would survive, save the one spirited away long ago by three midwives. Above the smoking tumult, Hera smirked in cold satisfaction. "No," she said. The she-naga held her attacker in her coils, sunk her venomous fangs deep into his throat, ripped sinew and muscle as she withdrew. He convulsed in her grasp and died, and the naga laughed. "No," she said, louder. There was a squeal from the bundle, as Puck rocked it gently back and forth. The Queen issued her decree. Oberon's servant balked, was held in place as the Three gleefully pulled the babe from his arms and pulled the boy-child to shreds. The blood stained the royal carpet, but Titania did not notice as she walked past the shocked assembly back to her rooms. "No! This is not what happened! This is not who I am!" A woman, dark hair tied back, dark eyes hidden behind glasses, watched as Halcyon Renard introduced the sparkling Anastasia Lisle to the rest of their colleagues. His eyes were on the new woman alone. "No ... " Squealing, a girl of five, red hair in loose braids, threw herself into her mother's lap, then looked up at her, grinning. The gaping hole where her first baby tooth had been yawned like a passage out of toddlerhood and into the mysteries of school. Her mother clasped to her, trying to press her back into the clump of cells she had once been, keep her forever innocent of all that was to befall. "I was here." Mulberries, too ripe, stung her mouth as she crushed them past her lips. Her companion, her first and truest friend, grinned at her, his own blue mouth stained black by the sweet juice. They had not one care in the world, here in the endless summer. "I was here." Anastasia looked into the mirror. Fine wrinkles covered her face and neck and hands. Her head was a mane of silver and snow, her eyes still green as the sea. From behind her reflection, Halcyon walked to her, placed a chain around her doughy neck. Iron and glass and mirrored crystal. "Grow old with me," he whispered, and fastened the necklace with frigid hands. "No! It's not like that!" "Who are you?" asked Coyote. He sat at the table with Raven, playing poker with Tarot cards. He set The Empress before her. "I am your queen." "The queen was cruel," said the Puck. "Mortals were there to be used and discarded." He dropped an empty blanket at her feet. "I'm not like that anymore." "Who are you?" asked Halcyon. Brittle as a leaf in November, he curled in his chair. "I am your wife," she said, from within the box. "Who are you?" asked Janine, five years old and heartbreakingly beautiful. Three little girls stood behind her, their overlarge eyes of pale blue watching her in silence. She bent to take the four into her arms, found only shadows. "I am your mother." "She would be unhappy pretending to be someone she is not," said Vivienne, and took Janine's unresisting hand. "Who are you?" "I am your queen." "Who *are* you?" asked Oberon. "I am your queen!" "Who *ARE* you, child?" asked her mother. "I am Titania!" she shouted, and woke. It was Saturday. She'd been napping in the late afternoon like an old woman. She stretched, got to her feet, went to her mirror. Outside the lace at the windows, wet rags of snow fell from the sky. Shivering, she recalled her dream, Halcyon coming up behind her. But he could not walk, and he would not chain her. That was not his way. He would bind her with his kindness, his slow emotions, his devotion to his work, his moral code which had grown tighter at David and Janine's betrayal. He would bind her by being the man he was becoming, as ice bound roses. She fingered a silver frame on her bureau. She'd told Halcyon the woman behind the glass was her mother, when in reality, the picture had come with the frame. She had not thought on her true mother in more years than he had been alive. Why had she been there in the dream? ~Who are you?~ She folded the frame, trapped the not-mother inside the silver and glass cage, left it on the bureau as she swept the jewelry into its box, which she also closed and left. So that there could be no doubt, she placed her wedding ring beside the box. It did not take her long to pack. Quietly, she took her light suitcases down into the hallway. "Anastasia?" His voice came from his study. Even when he was not in the lab, he worked. They had hired new personnel, better security forces and systems, and Halcyon personally oversaw the entire thing. Xanatos Enterprises had stolen away minds, and with the minds went knowledge. The young company hit the ground running, and even well-established corporations such as their own were struggling to keep pace. From the hours following that final meeting last June, he had pledged his every waking moment to keeping Cyberbiotics afloat and ahead. The effort was killing him; not quite fifty-six, he appeared to be in his seventies. Winter had come. "Yes, Halcyon?" "Are you going out?" "Yes, Halcyon." She set the bags by the door. "If you're going to the lab take a warm coat. The weatherman said the temperatures tonight will be in the twenties." "Yes, Halcyon." She selected a slim blue jacket lined with down. San Francisco would be chilly but not cold. She stared at her reflection in the curio cabinet: sea-blue and sea-green and brown. She taped the note where he could reach it. "Will you be back soon?" "No, Halcyon." She ushered her bags outside, and closed the door behind her. *** April 30, 1996 *** Anastasia politely applauded the speaker as he collected his overheads, tried not to yawn as she readied her own slides for the projector. The conference was going as well as could be expected, but she longed to be in Australia, cleaning up the last of the Matrix work, or better, in New York with Fox. The baby was due any day. If she hadn't agreed to co-chair this thing, she would not have even attended. The other chair, Dr. deKanter from Lisbon, went to the podium. "Our next speaker is Dr. Anastasia Renard. Dr. Renard received her Bachelors in Biology from Smith College, and her Masters and Doctorate in Biochemistry from Wooster. She has worked in both industrial and academic circles, teaching from time to time at Berkeley," some light cheering peppered the room; this *was* the U.C. - Berkeley campus, "as well as her alma mater. She helped to found Cyberbiotics, one of today's leaders in artificial intelligence research. She has published over one hundred and fifty papers, and has seventeen patents in her name. "For those of you visiting here today from Stanford, that's a lot." A chuckle went through the room. "The title of her talk today is 'Controlled Interactions of Multi-Unit A.I.'s.'" Dr. deKanter led the applause, and Anastasia stepped up to the podium. She began by thanking her colleagues and the source of her funding, in this case Xanatos Enterprises, then gave a quick and undetailed summary of the Matrix project, without mentioning its near-takeover of Australia. As she moved into a functional diagram of an individual nanite, she glanced into her audience to test their interest. She saw several bored faces, several more interested ones, and one ... She stopped speaking. For fifteen seconds, twenty, nothing happened, and then she remembered who she was supposed to be and what she was supposed to be doing. The rest of her talk happened on autopilot, as her mind tried to digest what she had seen. At the end, she asked for questions, received only one, which she answered with no diificulty. The audience's attention was already on the coffee and cookies awaiting them in the lounge. "If there are no more questions, let us thank Dr. Renard and then take a fifteen-minute break." She accepted the applause, and collected her slides in a haze. When she finished, she went into the lounge, but not for cookies. He stood at the far wall, observing her. She moved through the crowd without haste, nodding politely to the people who greeted her, hearing their voices only as the low murmur of the sea. ~How did you find me?~ ~I searched for a very long time. I have been thinking of you, wondering if you were content.~ ~I have thought on you as well. More than I should.~ ~We should speak. There is something I would ask of you.~ In her mind, she saw the pure streams and verdant green hills of their homeland. ~The Three have come to me with concerns, but we may speak of them later.~ ~Later,~ she agreed. She stood next to him now, had to tip her chin upwards to meet his eyes. ~I have missed you.~ ~And I you.~ He lifted his hand in their old way. She took it, as gracefully as were she already in her true form again. Surrounding her, she heard talk, idly wondered in the back of her mind what they would make of her departure, discovered she did not care in the slightest. He had come. Still holding hands, they walked out of the lounge, out of a great building of steel and mirrored glass, out of the World itself, leaving behind them only a dim echo of laughter, gentle and warm as Spring rain. *** hysteresis - (n.) a physical phenomenon in which the thermodynamic path to a new energy state differs from the return path. Lit. "an end unlike the beginning" *** The End ***