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Chapter -4- Finding Survivors

August 31, 8:30 pm, PDT San Francisco, California

** Fox Parker pulled up in front of a mansion in Pacific Heights.** "Okay. We're going to switch cars then I'm going to drop you off anywhere you want to go."

"What should I call you?" asked Karla.

"You were awake when they said my name."

"A proper man introduces himself."

"Fox Parker. You?"

She smiled inwardly. "Now, now ... a girl has to have her secrets. Maybe if we meet again, I'll tell you. You never saw me, okay?"

"You did good. A little too confident at gunpoint, though. You need to be more careful," Fox told her. "As in, stay away from people like that in the future. Oh and sorry about calling you a whore earlier. That was just me playing a role."

"It's all good, babe. So ... promise me you won't tell anyone what I look like."

"Pardon?"

Karla reached up and pulled the nylon stocking from his face, so that it stopped beneath his hairline. "Aren't you a looker? Just like your daddy was."

Fox blinked.

She smiled in reply. "Look. I can't tell you anything about me. So. To be straight: don't tell anyone that you picked up a busty young blond with pink nails and lips ... and I promise I won't tell anyone that Jon Parker and his son are thieves planning to steal from robbers who just claimed to have a nail from Jesus Christ. Deal?"

"Wait, how did you...?"

"Honey," Karla smiled brightly. "Like I said. A girl has to have her secrets." She reached forward, cupped either side of Fox Parker's face and leaned forward until her lips met his.

The succubus ran her fingers back and fisted the short brown hair at the nape of his neck as she kissed him. After a moment to enjoy it, Karla broke the lip-lock.

Fox gawked in surprise.

Karla winked. "There. We sealed our promise of silence with a kiss."

"Wow. What, uh ... what was that for?"

Karla smiled. "Because you're one of the good guys, sweetheart. Plus I've always wanted to kiss a trillionaire. Not to mention the attractive son of a retired celebrity athlete."

"Billionaire ... with a 'B'."

"I know better, Fox."

His expression went blank.

"Listen ... things are going to get really weird. Just go along with it all, okay?"

"What's going on?"

Karla smiled somewhat. "I'm going to take that dead body on my shoulder while you drive the van into your daddy's big ole car garage. Okay? Then you're going to blink or look away or whatever ... and I'll be gone with the body. Don't ask questions or think too hard about what happens next. Just go meet your daddy and have some ice cream."

"Whoa, hold up. How did you know my father likes ice cream after a job?"

Karla laughed and shook her head. "Like I said, hon, don't ask questions. You never saw me." She slid out of the front seat of the van and walked around to the rear doors.

She took the body out by his legs.

"Do you need help?"

"Nope!" Karla hefted the corpse up onto her shoulder, using telekinesis to make herself appear stronger than she really was.

"What if...?"

Karla interrupted him. "Don't worry. No one will see me with this guy. Just trust me. Remember: don't ask questions, Fox. Now. Stay out of trouble."

He leaned out the driver side window and said, "This is the most unorthodox..."

Karla laughed in a good-natured way and said, "Just pull forward and hide this thing in that big ole garage of yours. Go on!"

She waited until Fox pulled into the garage, located on the side of a hill, beneath the Parker Mansion.

She moved to the left, away from the garage door. "So, this is where J. Conner Parker lives. The irony of meeting the Parker boy is just killing me."

"I wonder what Nathan is doing right now. I hope his day is as interesting as mine." With a smile, Karla vanished into thin air, the body still slung over her shoulder.

X

X

Thursday, August 31, 9:30pm San Francisco, California ...

** "Kalen Kincade..."** Nathanial smiled inwardly and shook his head "Don't you look just dapper. Anyway, I'm looking for Natalia - is she awake yet?"

Silence.

Nathan Carrington stood on the gorgeous front stoop of Kincade Manor. He looked around. "What?"

Kalen tilted his head but remained silent.

Nathan walked to one of the enormous columns, which connected the steps to the roof. A chandelier hung over the old man's head.

Silence.

Nathan put his hands on his lower back and pivoted, looking at the silent, lush green landscape of the manor grounds. The long winding driveway disappeared into the night.

Carrington tensed his aging body. He sensed no neural electrical energy in the immediate area.

Nathan turned back to Kalen and smirked. "You're seriously going to do this right now?"

Kalen furrowed his brows.

"Goddamn, Kalen - she's supposed to be awake by now. Where the hell is she? This is getting serious."

Kalen appeared stoic in the doorway of the posh mansion. "Who are you, and why should I let you inside?"

Nathan blinked. He wondered if Tamamo-no-Mae removed Kalen's memories. "You should let me inside because I knew Natalia's husband - Niall."

Kalen sniffed at the air. "Your blood smells familiar."

"It sure as hell should, Kalen."

"You speak my name as though I should know you. You act familiar as though I should respect you for some reason. Who are you?"

Nathan smirked. "You should respect me because I fought at Niall's side when he was murdered by Masopic."

"I do not know you, so please do not address me in such a familiar manner."

"Jesus Christ." Nathan muttered. "For such a smart woman, Natalia sure picked a goofy man to be her personal hand-to-hand champion." Nathan stepped around Kalen, entered the manor, and stopped to look around the elegant foyer.

The splendor of the room was in its construction, and sharp lines. The marble slabs, the beautiful floor tiling, the graceful design of the pillars on either side of the staircase. "No wonder Karla has been staying here with you."

Kalen scoffed. "Excuse me?"

Nathanial whirled about, coming face to face with Kalen. "Drop the act. We have work to do."

"Nathanial Carrington?"

"It took you until just now to recognize me? Did you lose your goddamn memories?"

"You've aged considerably, Nathan! How was I supposed to recognize you!"

Nathan smirked. "I'm only a hundred 'n forty-six years old, Kalen. Karla's over four hundred."

Kalen grimaced. "I haven't heard from you since you called me in 1999 and asked me to act as though I've never met you after Michael and Ethan died."

"Yeah, I was afraid you'd be next, Kalen. Jesus Christ, it's been twenty-five years. You're still alive; so am I. You can drop the act."

"I'm ashamed to say I did not recognize your face, Nathanial."

Carrington rolled his eyes. "Anyhow, we're the last two members of the Four Horsemen and we did nothing while Specials across the globe were slain. Some heroes we are."

Kalen frowned. "I have a duty to keep Natalia safe until she awakens. You have a duty to Karla."

"Do you still have romantic feelings for her?"

"Why would you ask that? It's been three-quarters of a century, at least."

"Because the girl finds you attractive. It's pretty simple, Kalen."

"I haven't seen her in some time, Nathan."

"Donovan, her new friend, suggested that she stay somewhere other than her home. At least, you know, until it's safe and the attacks stop for good. She told me she might stay with you until things blow over."

Kalen rubbed his chin. After a moment, he nodded and said, "When the dust settles, she is welcome to lay low here. However, this is only if she promises to bring no attention to herself."

"I'll pass that on to her. But it won't be right yet. She has a lot of work ahead of her. And so do I, Kalen."

"You broke protocol, Nathan. Why did you come here out of the blue?"

"Shit's changed. I need to see the mirror Karla rescued for Natalia. In case you haven't heard, the goddamn EC disappeared over the past forty-eight hours."

Kalen shut the front door and locked it. He gestured for Nathan to follow him through the mansion. "Karla mentioned meeting Donovan Loupe. Small world."

Nathan shrugged. As the two walked together, Nathan looked around the fancy hallway leading away from the foyer. "Yeah, I know. Natalia is related to the Loupe family. Both can do that whole ... shadow thing. But she's also doing the whole blood-drinker thing."

"Yes. It's always impressed me how much you know about certain people."

"Yeah. Where is she?"

Kalen opened a door leading to another wing of the large home. He motioned for the old man to follow him. "Let's talk." Kalen led Nathan through the dining room, a grand hall meant for over a dozen diners.

"What's the deal, Kalen?"

Kincade sighed and glanced back at Nathan. "Mistress Natalia does not trust many. YiaYia, of course. She often trusts seers once they've proven their abilities. Myself, surely. But she also trusts you. I'm not sure why and I'm not sure what has happened between you two in the past. However, she would allow me to tell you of her current location."

"So she's hiding from the attacks?"

"No, Nathan. She is still in her state of physical indolence. Some call it 'torpor' and others call it 'the sleep.' I apologize if you've come to see her but she cannot be easily awoken - certainly not on a whim."

"I'm not sure I understand. I thought she was already supposed to be awake. My source says she doesn't go back to sleep until after 2025."

Kalen grimaced. "She is still asleep."

"Well that's bullshit. I could've sworn she was going to go to sleep in two-and-a-half years. Why would she be asleep this early?"

Kalen guided Nathan into another hallway. "The oracle said she will wake in a year, see something depressing, work with a group of people to create a sense of order, and then return to her slumber." Kalen frowned thoughtfully.

"Are you sure she's well hidden? We can't risk something happening to her. She's going to be important later on."

"I was recently visited by a geneticist named Doctor Aris Falcon. He was full of information about the origins of our kind and how we were a bastard lineage of a failed punishment system for The First Age. Do you know what that means?"

Nathanial sighed. "Yeah. But you're not supposed to understand it yet."

Kalen furrowed his brows in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Falcon was keen to point it out to other races, too. He wants the mythology races to know where they came from."

"Care to share?" Kalen opened another door. They walked together on the lush carpeting, towards the east wing of the large home.

"To be honest, it's all too much to explain right now. Look, Kalen, I came to see you, too; not just Natalia."

"Oh?"

"I know she means the world to you, but trust me when I tell you that you're going to play an important part, soon enough. I, uh, spoke to seers that I trust."

"You told me my 'important part' was finished. I have retired from my time as one of the Four Horsemen, Nathan."

"Kalen, at this rate, you're going to be the last horseman alive. Just do me a favor and stay in America for a while longer."

Kalen eyed Nathan. "You don't have much longer to live?"

"Call it a gut feeling."

"Very well. So how is it that I've never known about your friendship with Mistress Natalia?"

Nathan grinned. "Maybe you were too busy trying to tame Karla at the time. You used to chase her skirt as I recall. That's why I assume you're doing it now."

Kalen balked.

"What?"

"Nathan, first of all, I haven't seen Karla in a number of years. Secondly, when I first saw you at the main entrance, I didn't even recognize your face. I only recognized your voice. You're too old to throw yourself into another war."

"I'm a hundred 'n forty-six years old, man. If you were expecting a pretty face then I'm sorry I disappointed you."

"Do you still have complete control of your abilities?"

Nathan folded his arms. "Yeah. But I've learned more about them in the past few years."

"Such as?"

Nathan smirked. "Methos tells me that my abilities are on permanent loan from the so-called 'First Age of Humanity.' Whatever. It's complicated."

"You weren't born with them?"

"I'd like to think I was. But maybe that's why I was a late bloomer who manifested them at a late age."

"Or perhaps they weren't meant to manifest until you reached a certain age. Had Mistres Natalia waited, she would have stopped aging in her forties. Instead, she sought out the kiss of a vampire, in order to remain forever young."

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard the story. It's a shame Natalia is out for the count."

Kalen sighed. "She is not a warrior, she is a strategist."

"And we could use one of those," Nathan said. "Other than her penchant for academia and obsession with ornate mirrors, I know she raises some pretty kickass vampires, and she knows how to plan a battle."

"True."

"Kalen, did you know that Natalia communes with some pretty big power players?"

"Excuse me?"

"Ever met Tamamo-no-Mae Mizukume?"

"I'm afraid I don't know that name. Sounds Asian."

"Yeah, pal. Japanese. I was hoping Natalia would have been able to contact her for me, but it sounds like I'll have to try doing it myself. You should have a room with an oval mirror. It'll have a really intricate metal frame with Japanese lettering across the bottom."

Kalen eyed the man for a moment. He rubbed his chin with a wan smile.

Nathan smiled. "What?"

"I met you one hundred seventeen years ago. Despite not recognizing you, I must admit, you have aged well, considering. When we met I would say you were about thirty."

"Yeah," Nathan said with a chuckle. "That sounds about right. Tunguska. Y'know, I've never known you to be sentimental, Kalen."

A sly smile found the vampire's lips, offering a hint of twin ivory-colored fangs. "Indeed. The day Karla discovered teleportation. Interesting how our lives are so interwoven."

Nathan chuckled. "Yeah. She saved my ass that day."

Kalen nodded. "Considering the fact that the next time she teleported wasn't until World War Two, you're lucky she saved you from that blast."

A pained grin tugged at the corner of Nathan's aged mouth. "Yeah, I nearly died twice. Her first teleport - how scary is that, right?"

"How do you mean?"

"Kalen, when she finally teleported again, almost four decades later, she accidentally killed a few sailors on the Eldridge. Let's face it, back in 1906, we could have appeared inside of a tree or something. We were lucky to have survived the blast, and equally as lucky to have survived Karla's first teleportation."

"I confess, it's really good to see you again, Nathan. I've not seen you in ages."

"Yeah, literally. So, since Natalia isn't awake, can I use her god-mirror?"

"Very well, Reaper."

"Oh, don't start using our pseudonyms, Blood."

Kalen offered a slight grin. It faded. "I understand that 'Ghost' and 'Judge' died in Karla's presence. No one ever told me who killed them."

Nathan sighed. "Do you remember why Ethan left?"

"Because in the late 1980s, or early 90's, Ethan discovered the rest of the group had a personal friendship with Karla. He blamed Karla for the death of his husband in 1973 - I believe the man's name was Gerald or Gerard."

"Gerald," Nathan said. "He was a Pyro-mancer. On his deathbed, he admitted to sleeping with Karla. Ethan held it against her for the next twenty-six years until they caught up."

"How on Earth did Karla take on Ethan Sandusky?"

Nathan sighed. "Kalen, it wasn't a pretty sight, man. Karla was dating a telepath at the time. The kid picked up a piece of broken wood and swung it in anticipation of where Ethan would reappear after teleporting around the room."

"And Michael Richter?"

"I asked Mike to watch over Karla and the telepathic kid. He died protecting them. That's why I called you and asked you to lay low for a while."

Kalen led Nathan further down the hall and stopped in front of another door.

"Is this it? The god mirror?"

"I understand Mistress Natalia has a unique and intimate belief system of how religion works. She claims there's ranks between mortals and God."

"It's complicated."

"Un-complicate it. I wish to understand."

"Either the gods became more like humans, or humans became like the gods - some of them have ranks, some are tribes. Some groups of gods are like a court or council."

Kalen nodded in understanding. "Fair enough. What does the mirror have to do with anything?"

"It's the only way I know how to contact Tamamo-no-Mae. I've only ever seen three human people contact her by name. Niall and Natalia did it on the mirror. That's why she asked Karla to rescue the damn thing back in 1999."

Kalen stared at the door for a moment in silence.

Nathan frowned. "Please, Kalen?"

Kalen tilted his head slightly, in a half-nod. "Very well."

Nathanial reached for the door handle.

"It's not in that room."

"What?"

"I led you here because it's further away from the mirror. I needed to talk to you and clear the air. It's been a long time, Nathanial. This room is simply a guest room. We're in the guest quarters wing."

"Oh, Jesus. Seriously?"

Kalen offered a smile to the aging man. He turned about and headed back down the hallway. "This way, Reaper."

Clear across the mansion, Kalen opened a door for Nathanial and said, "You'll pardon me, I don't believe in such things. I've never seen anything in that mirror even when my Mistress appeared to be having a conversation with it. She said it's because I didn't have faith."

Nathanial chuckled. "Or because the gods didn't want you to see."

"I respect Mistress Natalia' I'm open-minded to lots of supernatural and esoteric matters. However, I never saw anything in that mirror. Ever." Kalen eyed Nathanial for a moment. "I hope you don't mind that I won't be joining you."

"It's fine, man. I don't mind. Thanks for letting me try."

"How is Karla?"

"I still see her pretty often. She's fine, man. Same ole' Karla."

With a nod, Kalen gestured to the door. "I respect her. Despite her sometimes wayward personality, I respect her as an intelligent woman."

"You know how quirky she can be? It's worse, now." Nathan shrugged. He reached for the handle of the doorknob but paused. "She repressed a lot of hurt in 1999. Methos thinks she's adapted some of the personality traits of people who's death she feels responsible for. One of those who died was this werewolf girl named Peri."

"Excuse me?"

"Karla is far more boisterous than last time you saw her, Kalen. She adopted the personality traits of several people whose death she took really hard. She's ... more rambunctious now."

"I ... see. I've heard of rare cases such as that."

"It's not as rare as you might think. It's just her coping mechanism. She barely remembers Peri, and she's repressed quite a few things about Marcus. Now she tries to act like them. It's subconscious."

Kalen nodded in silence.

Nathan stepped inside the room and shut the door behind himself.

The room was silent and decorated with ornate ornaments around the room.

Nathan crossed the room, admiring the various trinkets and artifacts. Lore and symbols covered the walls. Most of the objects and decorations were of gods from ancient religions spanning throughout written history. Some were of newer gods, or possibly forgotten deities with which Nathanial was unfamiliar.

At the far end, Nathanial approached a crystal-clear mirror with an opulent metal frame. It had elegant Kanji scrawl along the bottom, Greek lettering on the left, Egyptian hieroglyphics on the right, and an unknown language across the top. Runic symbols decorated one of the corners.

He stood in front of the mirror, hands at his sides, and said, "Tamamo-no-Mae. If you can hear me, I need you to agree to send Sinopa Crevan here."

Silence.

Nathan began pacing in front of the mirror. "I kept my promise. I never said anything to Sinopa or Jonny Parker. And, even though I started talking to Sinopa again over the past few years, I never told her about the past. I kept my promise."

There was no reply in the mirror.

Nathan pivoted on his foot, pacing back the other direction. "Tamamo, it's time for her to come back to California. I had a dream last night that I spoke to her. I can only assume she had the same one. In it, Japan was missing something, and I suggested for her to go and speak to Jon Parker about the missing artifacts. But, later in the dream, Sinopa and JC never cross paths. Then things grew dark, figuratively speaking."

He stole a glance at the mirror.

"So ... how do we proceed from here?"

There was no reply, just Nathan's reflection in the mirror.

"Goddamn it, Mizukume, get your nine-tailed ass out here, right now."

Silence.

Nathan grimaced. "Tamamo-no-Mae Mizukume, I'm calling you! It's a goddamn emergency! Get out here now!"

Tamamo's appearance faded into view. The little white fox carried something in its muzzle. She set the object down and perched upon it, so that she was high enough for him to see her. "I am here, Nathan-sama!"

"It's about goddamn time. We've got problems, and I need you to put Sinopa back into play."

"Nathanial..."

"We don't have time to argue, Mizukume. We need Sinopa back in play, and you need to keep an eye on Sigyn and Loki."

"It is not yet time, Nathan-sama. She is still adapting and re-learning how to handle..."

"Get her to America and have her investigate the attacks against the supernatural community."

Tamamo sighed. "Very well. And why would you like me to keep and eye on Sigyn-sama and her husband?"

"Because I don't trust them."

"How can you not?! Sigyn is the goddess of..."

"Stop talking." He licked his lips and sighed. His tone calmed somewhat. "Mizukume, she's capable of way more than you give her credit for. Now, stop trying to argue with me. Just go see for yourself."

"I am not yet willing to put Sinopa into danger. I need more proof."

"Yeah? You'll have it real soon."

"How can you know such?"

Nathan withdrew his cellphone and glanced at the lock screen display. "Rufus should be digging up all the proof you need any minute, now."

"Rufus?"

"Darken. Peri Lynn's brother."

Tamamo frowned.

"You recall Peri Lynn Darkhean, right? You drafted her for this damned war twenty-five years ago, remember? You sent her to her grave."

"I gave purpose to a soldier, nothing more and nothing less."

"Yeah, is that how you see it?" Nathan narrowed his eyes. "Well, Rufus should have taken her place twenty-five years ago. He'd have survived the goddamn grenade."

"Nathan..."

"Instead, you drafted Peri because it was easier for you. And now? Her brother, Rufus, is about to unearth some serious shit in Iceland."

"How do you know this?"

"Because in the future, he tells the story. I have knowledge of the day he tells that story. Well, right now, Rufus is somewhere out there..." Nathan pointed behind himself, adding, "He's working for Sire St. Leonard, digging up the goddamn artifacts. We're going into September - Loki and Vali's codex is about to see the light of day."

"I need proof before I allow Sinopa to be endangered."

Nathan grimaced. "Maybe it's time you follow Sigyn on her next visit to Loki. Just listen to them talk. I'll be waiting around."

"And what will you do in the mean time, Nathanial?"

"It's time I start putting a team together for Karla to lead."

Tamamo's eyes widened. "Karla?! You wish the succubus to lead the supernatural survivors?"

"Yeah, Mizukume. She'll have to - at this point, I won't live to see this bullshit through to the end."

"You are the only one Sinopa and I trust! You cannot die!"

Nathan smirked. It was nice to feel needed. "I've been grooming Karla just in case this happens."

"Since when?!"

Nathan narrowed his gaze. "I've been preparing her for a long time. But, after Marcus died, and after things started playing out exactly how they were prophesized..."

"You couldn't stop it then?"

"No, I couldn't, Mizukume. Calm down. Since Marcus died, I've spent the last twenty-five years getting her ready for everything to hit the fan."

"I am familiar with that idiom. Do you honestly think she will be powerful enough to handle herself?"

Nathan nodded. "Her powers are finally evolved enough to see this bullshit through to the end."

"My only hang up is that you wish Karla to lead this team. She would make a fine warrior, but she is not prepared to make decisions that would affect everyone else, including Sinopa."

"I expect Sinopa to keep Karla grounded. Sinopa will help Karla make intelligent decisions."

"They are both_children!" Tamamo's tails fluffed up in agitation. "Karla as a leader? Absolutely _not!"

"They're the goddamn heroes of the Tunguska battle, Mizukume."

"I will seek out Sigyn-sama and determine my course of action based on what I learn."

"Fine." Nathan smirked. "You'll see. You'll come crawling back to me, tails tucked, and tell me I was right. In the mean time, I have a lot of work to do."

"Who will be apart of this team, Nathan?"

"Evan Balmoral and Johann Foster, Sinopa Crevan, Jules Guillot, Rufus Darken, Collobulous Bullakulla, Reno Nevada, and the twins - Fox and Topaz Parker."

"You would endanger the Parker twins as well, Nathanial?"

"This is just the start of things, Mizukume. If those people can't end this, then things will get much more complicated. You don't want to see this war if it plays out longer than February of 2024."

"Please, tell me what you know of the future that you fear so much."

Nathan smirked. "If I start telling people, it will change things. If I change too much, or if I make changes too quickly, then it will get out of control. If I lose control, then we're all screwed."

"I wish you could trust me."

"Yeah? It's about time that you trusted me, Mizukume. Anyhow, I'm off to find Evan and get him ready. You find Sigyn."

"Why do you say Sigyn-sama's name with such contempt? She is a beautiful, gentle woman. She is the epitome of perfection in a loving wife."

"Yeah? You'll see. She's a scorned wife, and a grieving mother - thanks to Odin's idea of a punishment."

Tamamo pursed her lips.

Nathan narrowed his eyes. The wrinkles around his gaze bunched up. "Let's face it, her children were forced to kill each other, and the guts of one of them was turned into metal chains to bind her husband. That would piss off any woman. That's a goddamn nuclear combination."

Tamamo looked away with a sigh. Her white-furred ears laid back along the top of her small head.

"A goddess," Nathan said. "A very, very pissed off goddess, who has been repressing and bottling her emotions for centuries. Do you understand?"

Tamamo's whiskers laid back along her muzzle. She remained silent.

"Mizukume, if Loki can convince her to want vengeance, and if he finds a way to unleash her on the world ... it would be worse than Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined. There are no supernaturals left to keep the gods from returning to Earth. They would war with humans and each other. It would be a mess. The Ragnarök, the Book of Revelations - name your end-of-days scenario. No one will be left alive to tell the goddamn story. That's why these stories are told to humanity before it happens."

Tamamo swallowed down a lump of emotion. The fur beneath her neckline shifted. "I will look into your claim and tell you if I find something."

"I'm going to look for Evan. Stay out of trouble, Mizukume. Don't go getting your tails cut off."

Her right eye fluttered. Her nose twitched. "Please, tell me that does not happen."

"It's one possible outcome. You're useless to help after that." He rubbed his chin in thought. "I'll see what I can do. I might know a way to contact someone that can watch your butt. You're going to need all nine tails to be of use."

"What can I do until I find Sigyn?"

"Find a way to move the portal."

"Excuse me?"

"This mirror - I'm using it to talk to you right now, Mizukume. Find a way to move the portal on your end. Hide it. If the supernaturals are dead, the gods can come to Earth and start some serious drama. Hide the goddamn portal on your side."

"I will find a way to do as you've asked."

"Good. Alright, I'm going to go and find the first member of Karla's future team. This kid named Evan - he's the great-great grandson of the man who made this." Nathan lifted his wedding band, which hung from a necklace. "I'm too old, and skinny and frail for it to fit anymore."

Tamamo nodded respectfully. "Be safe."

"See you around."

"Sayonara, Nathan-sama."

X

X

September 1, 7:30 am PDT San Francisco, California

** Evan Balmoral was lanky with black-rimmed glasses.** The kind that nerds wore, but also superstars like Buddy Holly.

His hair was a little longer than the average black kid his age. The brand name of his skater shoes and jeans suggested he was into the punk-rock scene.

He stepped from his nineteen-year-old grey BMW and pushed the creaky door shut with a hip bump.

Evan made his way around to the front of his store. He pushed the key into place and stepped inside.

After locking the door behind himself, Evan headed for the register.

The small sales floor of his store was covered with various glass objects. His walls had been decorated with picture frames of all sizes; some had glass highlights, giving them an elegant appearance.

Evan made his way behind the register. The wall behind the counter had realistically styled glass swords and other glass weaponry of medieval design.

He opened the register drawer, pulled out a notebook, and headed towards the back office. Evan paused near a glass door, leading to the back parking lot. He leaned down and squinted at a brown burn mark on the glass.

Evan shook his head and carried his notebook into the back office.

An elderly white man with a crew cut sat in the chair next to Evan's safe.

Evan blinked in confusion. He cleared his throat and the two made eye contact in the dim illumination coming from an east-facing window.

Neither moved, neither spoke. A hint of dust danced about, glowing in the morning sunbeam.

Evan took a step forward so that the sun shined on his face.

The old man folded his hands. He twiddled his thumbs in a circular motion without a single word.

"This is awkward," said Evan. "Sir, _A Pane in the Glass_doesn't open until nine. I'm not sure how you let yourself in without my alarm going off - everything was locked."

"I'm like you, kid."

Evan rubbed his thumb and his forefinger together. "Yeah, I can see we're a lot a like."

"Smart ass."

"Yeah. I prefer the term 'wise' because it sounds more worldly. So who are you?"

"Wise ass."

"Sir, you're making jokes, but the truth is, you're trespassing." Evan shifted his notepad to his other hand. "Sir, do you know your own name? Should I call someone to help you?"

"I'm not here because I'm a lost old man, kid. Go check your Lotto machine screen - there's no Silver Alert on me."

Evan wasn't sure why, but he felt like he could relax around the old man. "Okay, you're not a threat - so who are you?"

"Not a threat to you, kid. If I tell you my name, you have to promise that you'll deny ever meeting me. Can you do that, Evan?"

The expression drained out of Evan's face. He licked his lips. "How do you know my name?"

"Because I do. You're Evan, the stepson of Jerry Balmoral, a police officer with the rank of Sergeant. He adopted you when he married your mother. She died from a pregnancy complication a few years later. Tragic, for sure."

"How ... how do you know so much about me?"

"Kid, I know what you can do, too." The old man stood up and cradled a gold wedding band, which hung from a necklace.

Evan's eyes zeroed in on the yellow ring the old man tugged on, gently.

The old man offered a weary sort of smile. "By the way, I've always loved the name of this store." He stepped away from the office chair and stretched a bit. "I know you've got a store to open, which means you've probably gotta count your drawer and update your ledger. I'll get out of your way and let you get to work. We can talk when you're done."

Evan frowned with a tilt of his head. "I'm the only one working here - it's my store. I know what's in the drawer. I came in early to consider some new designs and because I keep all my sand here."

The old man grinned.

Evan glanced down at his notebook. "Basically, in a roundabout way, sand is where glass comes from, more or less. All I do is make things out of glass."

"Yeah, kid. Lightning strikes a beach, you get glass. I get it." The old man moved around the desk and motioned to the chair. "I kept it warm for you and you're going to want to sit down to listen to what I have to say."

"Uhm," Evan murmured then moved around behind the desk, opposite of the side from which the older man moved away. "Okay, so, uh," he continued, settling in the chair. "I'm not the kind of guy to stammer like this."

"Yeah, I know."

"And I've never had anyone break into my store before, so ... you know?" Evan leaned back in his office chair. "So, uh, what's going on here?"

"I'm here to give you a purpose." The old man leaned against the wall by the office door, leading out to the rest of the store. He folded his arms and propped his right foot against the wall, supporting himself on his left leg.

"You're like ... an old man version of James Dean."

The old man smiled. "You can call me Nathanial. Or Nathan. It doesn't much matter. If I remember correctly, kid, you like playing those tabletop roleplaying games, right?"

Evan swallowed due to the fact his mouth felt dry. "Who are you, man?"

"It'd take too long to explain. We don't have a lot of time. I've kept an eye on you since you opened your store last year. YiaYia called me on the phone last night and told me that this morning would be the day. I decided to watch, just in case. Think of me as training wheels."

"What're you talking about?" Evan set his notebook on his desk. "Who is YiaYia?"

"YiaYia is this sweet little Greek lady. She makes double chocolate baklava cheesecake that will knock your socks off, but that much sugar gives me the shakes in my old age."

Evan blinked.

Nathan shook his head with a smile of remembrance. "I went full on Wilfred Brimley, kid. It's a shame because her desserts are so good that even you would exclaim, 'sugar, honey, iced tea.' Trust me on that - and I know how much you hate swearing."

Evan eyed the man across the office.

The old man stood just beyond the sunlight filtering in from the window.

Evan reached for a lotion pump on a small filing cabinet to his right. He lathered his hands and wrists. "I don't tell people I don't like cussing. I just try to ignore it unless they're close to me. That's the _only_time I suggest they steer away from it. I hate that it makes my friends sound like they lack class."

"Yeah, yeah. I know, kid."

"How do you know so much about me? And who is this YiaYia lady?"

"Evan, it would take too long to explain. But I know about your ability to craft objects into glass."

"My glass blowing tools are locked up."

"No," said Nathanial. "You can shape it without tools and then de-molecularize glass back into silica powder. Hmm, was that even a real word? Eh, it sounds good."

Evan licked his lips and swallowed. "Holy smokes. And, uh, who is this YiaYia person?"

Nathan grinned. "YiaYia is a soothsayer. A clairvoyant seer. I'm not talkin' about the kind of chick that will scry over a crystal ball. I'm talking the real-deal kind of chick who calls you up in the middle of the night and tells you to load your gun and put on fresh underwear just ten minutes before an attacker breaks into your house."

Evan took a deep breath but said nothing.

"Now. I'm here to tell you that it's about to happen to you."

Evan tensed up. "What?"

Nathanial smirked. "This isn't one of your tabletop games. This is real. So I want you to put some sand in your pocket. You need to be prepared."

Evan eyed the old white man for a moment. He furrowed his brows. "I hate to break it to you, but that happened to me almost a year ago."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes, Mr. Nathanial. I dealt with it. My stepfather personally made an appearance to lock up that guy. Last week, these two jerks in black combat fatigues tried to surround me out by my car. For the first time in my whole life, I did something public. I turned their guns to glass. I got in my car and I left, quickly. Haven't seen them since."

Nathan tried to snap his fingers, but his hands were too old and frail to make a sound. "They're coming back today to finish the job."

"What for? I don't even make that much, here!"

The old man shrugged and said, "They don't want your money. Do you know what a witch trial is, kid?"

"Yeah, some sort of kangaroo court crap where people would burn anyone they accused of being a heretic." Evan frowned. He opened his desk and took out his tablet. "Still doesn't explain how you got in without tripping the alarm."

The old white guy chuckled. "You're not the only one who can do something special, kid."

Evan tilted his head.

"But you can't tell anyone you've ever met me. That's why I'm not giving you my last name. Heck, I should have lied about my first."

"The fact you didn't says volumes about you."

"Yeah, I guess." The old man rolled his shoulders upwards. "But the point is: I need to make sure you don't get your tail handed to you when those guys come into your shop. They're part of a witch trial. You have an ability. They're hunting people like you and me. But don't worry, their operation is spread too thin right now."

"Shouldn't we call the police?"

"Nope. It's complicated, kid."

"So you want to show me how you handle people like this?"

"No, Evan. This is about you. If you can prove to me that you can protect yourself in a manner that satisfies me, I'll take the bodies and hide'em for you. Clear across town, so it looks like they were taken down as far from your shop as humanly possible. That'll throw'em off your scent."

"I don't kill people."

"Alright, alright. Well, I'll drop them off at a hospital, so when they recover, they can kill some eleven-year-old kid who is manifesting earlier than most Specials. Say, you manifested when you were young, right?"

Evan swallowed. "So the attack is going to happen today?"

Nathan glanced at his left wrist. "Hmm ... the time of day is two hairs past the mole. I'm thinking I really need to get a watch. But I'm also thinking that you've still got a few minutes before they try coming in from the front and the back door."

"Well, uh, jeeze. So what is your ability?"

"I can't tell you that, just like I can't tell you who I am. It's bad enough you now know that I'm old and my name is Nathan. But whatever. I need you sharp and focused. I'm grading you on technique, time, efficiency, lack of blood, and, of course, style."

Evan replied with a blank stare. "This isn't a hero-origin story arc in a tabletop RPG, Mr. Nathanial."

"You don't have a choice, Evan. They're coming for you. I came to give you a head's up. You think you can handle this? You going to be okay?"

"You're really serious about this? I'm not being punked?"

"Shoot, kid, that show was way before your time. Funny how it's such a mainstream term, now."

"Is it a trick? Don't scare me like this over a trick, Mr. Nathanial."

"No, kid, this isn't a damn trick. Before long, you can forget the store because it won't matter anymore. You ought to write a will just in case you disappear. I know that's a little bit morbid but if it makes you feel any better, you don't die until you're old."

"I don't want to think about dying. What if I mess up?"

Nathan chuckled. "Heh. I promise I go first." The old man grinned.

"This is all really..." Evan trailed off. He heard the sound of glass breaking out in the front of the store.

"Show time, kid. Is your midichlorian count up to the task?"

Evan stood up from the desk, set the tablet down and moved across the office. "My 'midi-chlorian' count, huh? You know Star Wars terms. I guess I should trust you, huh?"

"Yup."

Through the side door leading out back, Evan could see a man in black gear. "Okay, I guess you're right. They can't see in through the glass tinting. There's only two of them?"

"Yup," Nathanial repeated. "I'm confident you can handle them."

"What if turning their guns to glass won't solve the problem?"

"Evan. I need you to calm yourself and get yourself emotionally psyched up for the realistic possibility that at least one of the two men will not be going home to his crappy bachelor pad apartment."

Evan shook his head. "No. No, there are always options."

"You cannot turn them in to the police, especially from here."

"I won't kill them. I'll make them want to give up their day job, but I won't take a life."

Nathan sighed with a nod. "Okay. Okay, kid. You win this time. Once they're unable to harm anyone, I'll take them out of your hair. But if you let one live, they will report in. They'll share the intelligence with their commanding officer. Then, when you're not expecting it, they will come back. Their job is finding people like us, got it?"

Evan rubbed his face. He watched the man outside the back door from the doorway of his office. "How do they even know I have this ability? I mean, yeah, I turned their guns to glass but ... before that - how'd they know?"

"They're working for this one girl who has a passive ability - all she can do is sense when someone nearby is a Special. That's it and that's all. Now get yourself ready, kid. They have guns and they're not playing around."

Evan ran his hands back through his hair. He rubbed his face with a sigh and took a deep breath. "Okay ... the guy at the back door is pretty well armed. I guess this is it then. The real deal."

"Guess so, kid. Impress me."

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