The Keepers
By Elizabeth
Part 23

"Thank God I remembered about Dr. Jendel." Anna 
sighed as the quartet left the office building.  
 
"He's a nice guy." Peter remarked, slinging an arm 
posessively around Moe's shoulders as they, Anna, 
and Ace strolled down the street in the afternoon 
sun.  
 
"Got your prescription?" Moe asked.  
 
Peter put a hand in his pocket and withdrew a bottle 
which he shook jauntily. "Got my vitamins right 
here. He said I'm on them for a month and I'll be 
guaranteed 100%."  
 
Moe slid her arms around his waist and hugged him 
gently. "I just don't want to lose you. Oh Peter, I 
was so SCARED!..."  
 
Peter put the pill bottle back in his pocket and 
held her close. "Shh...it's all right...it'll take 
more than a car battery to kill me, I'm a god. 
Remember?"  
 
Moe chuckled, giving him a firm squeeze before 
letting go. "Yeah, I do."  
 
"Peter...do you know who hired Burkstrom and his 
partner?" Anna asked slowly.  
 
"Someone by the name of Vincent." he replied. He 
then turned his gaze on Ace. "Buddy...do you have 
any idea if Vinnie Vincent ever had any dealings in 
the occult?"  
 
Ace shook his head. "Wouldn't know...that's 
something that would have been restored to my memory 
when my Doppleganger dissapeared."  
 
"The phony Peter Criss never dealt with him, 
either." Peter murmured. "I think we ought to have a 
little chat with Gene and Paul when they get back 
from the prison. I have a feeling...." Peter trailed 
off and stopped walking. He tilted his head back and 
sniffed.  
 
"Pete?" Ace asked.  
 
Peter continued to sniff at the air, patting Moe's 
shoulder as a prompt to do the same. She tested the 
air, then gagged.  
 
"What IS that?" she coughed.  
 
"Death." Peter surmised grimly. "Someone's about to 
die, and it's CLOSE."  
 
"Has it happened yet?" Ace asked.  
 
Peter took another lungful of air. "No...but soon."  
 
Anna opened her mouth to respond, then doubled over 
in pain as a disturbingly soft moan escaped her 
lips.  
 
"Anna!" Ace cried, catching her as her knees 
buckled.  
 
Above the foursome's heads, a cloud obscured the 
sun, dimming its light. In the semi-shadow it 
caused, each of them became aware of Death as it 
approached them.  
 
Moe gagged again as the noxious stench touched her 
nostrils.  
 
Peter covered his ears, fighting to stop the sounds 
of eternal suffering from reaching his sensitive 
ears.  
 
Ace struggled with all his might not to writhe at 
the hot, oppressive, grating touch of it pressed in 
on his skin.  
 
Anna simply curled in on herself as pain burned in 
her gut, spreading out in waves through the rest of 
her body.  
 
Abruptly, a strong wind swept by, causing the clouds 
to vacate. The sun shone full on them once more.  
 
As each of them recovered from the onslaught, Anna 
sagged against Ace. She shook herself, then stared 
up into his eyes.  
 
"What WAS that?" she gasped, struggling to regain 
her equilibrium.  
 
Ace looked just over her head, and met Peter's gaze 
solemnly.  
 
"Everyone," Peter growled, his eyes blazing, "say 
hello to Morpheus."  
 
**********  
 
"Thanks for the help, Peter Marie." Julia 
acknowledged, strolling down the hall with Gene, 
Paul, and the older woman towards the visitor's 
lounge, where the Guardians and one Keeper now 
engaged in training from the inmates of Oswald 
Maximum Security Correctional Facility.  
 
Sister Peter Marie Reimundo smiled gently, pulling 
the young lady against her side with an arm around 
her shoulders in a friendly embrace. "It's no 
problem, trust me. Your situation will actually do 
well to help our research program."  
 
"Still helping at the Insitute?"  
 
The older woman nodded. "And trying to help some of 
these men in the process. When Governor Devlin 
offered to let O.R.I. conduct their research here in 
exchange for free treatment to the User inmates, he 
was doing everyone a good turn for a change. The 
therapy groups I run for many of the Users here are 
all take part in O.R.I. programs. You'd be suprised 
how positive the results are."  
 
"Have the results been fairly tangible as far as 
positive outcomes?" Gene wondered.  
 
Sister Pete nodded. "Absolutely. It's amazing how 
many of these men have gotten into trouble simply 
due to a lack of control over their abilities, or 
just ignorance of what they're capable of 
doing...the harm they can inflict. Many inmates have 
also acquired abilities while in prison, and 
O.R.I.'s programs help them learn to cope for the 
day they see release. For those that never will go 
free, they at least get to see how they can do some 
good with their lot, even from behind the walls of 
Oz."  
 
Julia shook her head. "It's great to know that Dad's 
still doing some good."  
 
"Lenny O'Ryan, dead but not forgotten." Sister Pete 
remarked.  
 
"Well we know how you feel about convicted felons, 
Sister," Gene purred, flashing the nun his most 
brilliant smile, "but how do you feel about the more 
dangerous members of society...like rock stars?"  
 
Sister Pete looked at him blandly, her eyes 
twinkling. "Mr. Simmons, after dealing with some of 
Oswald's most hardened criminals and most relentless 
sexual predators, I have nothing to fear from you 
and that tongue."  
 
Gene had to laugh at Sister Peter Marie's blunt and 
brazen sense of humor.  
 
"I am a bit suprised to see celebrities of your 
stature here, though." Sister Pete commented, giving 
Julia a suspicious glance. "What have you been up 
to, young lady?"  
 
Julia sighed in relief as Paul fielded the question 
with his typical public finesse. "Simple, 
Sister...KISS has been planning to come out of 
hiding for awhile. We're all Users, have been for 
years, but it's been a closely guarded fact. Julia 
just recently acquired her abilities, and we've been 
helping her adjust. We share a mutual 
acquaintance...a former patient in her hospital."  
 
Sister Pete's eyes lit up with understanding. "I 
see." She turned back to Julia. "You certainly know 
how to choose your teachers!"  
 
Julia laughed, flashing Paul a grateful look. Paul 
returned the glance with a warm smile that melted 
her heart.  
 
"Where IS the rest of your little group, anyway?" 
Sister Pete inquired. "I understand there's four of 
you?"  
 
"They're attending to some personal matters." Gene 
explained. "However, there are two other girls we'd 
like to have enlist in this little training 
operation later on...another shapeshifter, 
lycanthrope, and a Traveler...astral projection."  
 
Sister Pete frowned thoughtfully. "I don't currently 
treat any Travelers, but I'll see if there are any 
in Emerald City that haven't been in my office yet."  
 
"Thanks, Pete." Julia repeated.  
 
The older woman patted Julia's shoulder. "Enough. No 
thanks needed from Lenny O'Ryan's little girl!" As 
they reached the door of the visitor's lounge, 
Sister Pete inclined her head towards it. "Now, 
let's see how our teachers are doing with their 
students, shall we?"  
 
**********  
 
Ben's gaze flitted over the slender blonde, finally 
meeting his sky blue eyes. "How long have you had 
NETS?"  
 
Tobias Beecher sat back in his chair, grinning 
slightly. "Nearly six years. I developed telepathic 
abilities shortly after I first came to Oz. 
According to the O.R.I. folks, I was dormant until 
severe emotional trauma woke up my powers." He 
paused, a shadow crossing his features. "Some 
'unpleasantness' with one of the Aryans was enough 
to do the job."  
 
Ben's gaze shifted to the more sinister inmate 
beside him. Close-cropped dark hair and midnight 
blue eyes contrasted as starkly against Beecher's 
paleness as his prison blues did against Beecher's 
dark pants and pale blue polo shirt.  
 
"What about you?" he asked.  
 
Chris Keller smiled, an action which was both 
beautiful and terrifying. "I'm congenital. Born a 
vamp, gonna die a vamp."  
 
"All of Sister Pete's therapy groups for Users 
participate in O.R.I.'s research programs in 
exchange for free medical treatment...most Users 
require special care for their abilities." Beecher 
went on. "Anyway, you're getting off track again. 
You can't avoid this forever, Ben."  
 
Ben took a deep, shaky breath. "I know...but can't 
blame a guy for trying, right?"  
 
Beecher and Keller both chuckled.  
 
"Trust me," Keller purred, "it can actually be 
pretty...enjoyable."  
 
"We're not going that far." Beecher assured him, 
shooting Keller a look containing a strange mixture 
of annoyance and heat. "You need to learn to 'feed,' 
and there are lots of ways to go about it. Today, 
though, I'll just show you the basic transfer 
points."  
 
Ben took a deep breath. "Okay...let's see what's 
what."  
 
"There are certain points on the body where it's 
easier to take energy than others. Two primary ones 
are the wrists and the throat, just over the 
jungular. We'll cover the whole anatomy later...for 
today, I just want to show you how to get what you 
need."  
 
Beecher gestured to Keller. The other man offered 
his arm with a casual feline grace. Beecher gripped 
Keller's forearm, pressing his lips against the 
pulse in his wrist as if in a kiss.  
 
"Pay attention." Keller instructed with another of 
those scary yet glorious grins. A moment later, he 
hissed softly in pain.  
 
Ben could feel it, heavy against his skin as it 
happened. Something in Beecher reached out, vicious 
and greedy and completely unlike the pleasant, even-
tempered ex-lawyer that Ben had been chatting with. 
This thing was preternatural and powerful, and it 
reached through Beecher's mouth and into Keller 
through the man's tanned, exposed arm. It found it's 
goal when it reached the center of Keller's 
chest...a pulsing source of warmth and vigor that 
Ben could almost taste on the back of his 
tongue...bittersweet and lucious, like a piece of 
baking chocolate...  
 
Beecher finally drew back, the beast within him 
retreating. Keller took back his arm and sighed 
deeply. Ben gained the distinct impression that he'd 
just witnessed something very, very intimate.  
 
"Was it good for you, too?" Keller joked, flashing 
Beecher a lazy, private smile.  
 
Beecher just chuckled. He then turned to Ben and 
extended his arm, wrist turned up.  
 
"Okay," he prompted, "your turn."  
 
**********  
 
Sister Pete and her guests stepped into the visiting 
room. Over in a corner, she saw Beecher and Keller 
with the dark-haired young wizard, in another she 
saw the older of the twins engaging in conversation 
with her Necromancer.  
 
"I'll go check on how they're doing, wait here." she 
instructed Julia.  
 
Sister Pete strolled over to the table, touching the 
wizard's shoulder. "How goes the lesson?"  
 
Mike looked up at her with a smile. "Hey, 
Sister...it goes. More of a history lesson than 
anything right now, but WHAT a history lesson!"  
 
Sister Pete pulled up a chair and sat between the 
two men. "I'm glad to hear it." She turned to look 
at Mike's teacher. "What do you think?"  
 
Kareem Said nodded deferentially. "He's an 
intelligent man with a good heart...he will do well 
with the gifts Allah has given him." He paused, 
flashing a rare, rueful smile. "It's truly a shame 
that you aren't one of the faithful...I see God in 
you."  
 
"Well, I'm faithful, just a different flavor. I'm an 
Irishman...served as an altar boy, taught by nuns, 
and named after the archangel."  
 
"You might like to talk to Ryan O'Reily. He has 
recently returned to the Catholic faith."  
 
"Well, I never left. Besides, I have enough in 
common with you, I'd say. We both have our own Good 
Book, practice religious fasting, and think Jesus 
Christ was one hell of a guy."  
 
Said smiled again, offering an even rarer chuckle.  
 
"Anyway, faith is no big thing to me. I'm no zealot, 
it's just part of my life, like eating breakfast."  
 
"That will serve you well, Michael. While you may 
not believe as I do, spirituality will be a comfort 
as your gifts develop. You realize that you cannot 
save everyone."  
 
"I know...I mean, I can't raise someone if their 
body's been cremated or hacked to bits, right?"  
 
"Yes. When those moments come when you cannot help, 
your faith must be your strength. You must trust in 
the will of Allah." He paused, growing pensive. 
"First and foremost, you must always remember that 
while we have been blessed by Allah, we cannot take 
liberties with those blessings."  
 
Mike frowned. "You mean playing God. Deciding who 
lives and who dies."  
 
"More than that. You must learn when to let 
go...when to allow someone die."  
 
Mike opened his mouth to protest, but Said raised a 
hand to silence him. "We cannot take liberties with 
our gift, Michael. Sometimes, no matter how terrible 
the circumstances, it is simply a person's time to 
go. We have been given the ability to do God's 
work...not to become gods ourselves. The Book of 
Psalms in your own Bible tells the story: 'to 
everything there is a season, a time to be born AND 
A TIME TO DIE.' You must learn to discern when that 
time has come...and you must learn to steel yoursef 
against it."  
 
Mike sat back in his chair, digesting Said's words. 
He liked to think that he was a pretty decent man, 
and he KNEW what it did to him inside...the idea of 
letting another human life slip away when there was 
something he could do about it. He'd BEEN dead...his 
memories of what came after seemed to be fading with 
every moment of new life that he experienced, but he 
still remembered some of his time in the afterlife. 
The terrible suffering that came just before he'd 
been brought back...  
 
The thought of leaving someone else to that fate ate 
at him.  
 
"If I may," Sister Pete interjected, "you have to 
have faith that God's will is being done. You have 
to trust His plan...it's the only way you'll be able 
to live with yourself. I've seen what Kareem's faith 
has done to help him...I'm beginning to think that 
spirituality is a pre-requisite for Necromancers."  
 
"Is your faith strong enough, Michael?" Said 
inquired.  
 
He shut his eyes and imagined an instance where his 
brother might be dead again...an instance where Mike 
would have to still the power inside and let Fate 
take control.  
 
//To everything there is a season.// he repeated to 
himself. He had a feeling that as a Guardian, for 
him that phrase would become a mantra.  
 
"I don't know," he finally whispered, "but at this 
point, it'll have to be."  
 
**********  
 
Paul wandered over to a table where Jim Riley sat, 
talking to a lanky young man with calculating eyes 
and a beguiling grin.  
 
"What trouble are you causing?" he quipped.  
 
Jim turned his head and offered a friendly handshake 
which Paul accepted, settling into a nearby seat. 
"Just plotting world domination from inside the 
walls of Oz. Right, buddy?"  
 
Ryan O'Reily laughed, a sound that was both harsh 
and endearing. "That and escape. Figure I can get 
Mr. Magic Tricks here to make me vanish or 
something."  
 
"Hey, my brother and I are lucky we got in here at 
all." Jim replied. "Julia had a talisman that she 
was forced to leave with that hack in 
charge...Murphy?"  
 
"Murphy ain't no hack...he's fellow Irish, 
trustworthy. One of the few decent CO's I've ever 
seen. He'll return it."  
 
"Good to know. Meanwhile..." Jim raised his left 
hand, where a simple steel cuff sat. "The wizarding 
contingent in our little party gets stuck with these 
damn things. They're not inhibitors, that's for 
sure."  
 
"Nah, those are energy monitors...we usually have to 
wear them when the O.R.I. dudes are here doing their 
thing. They're equipped as inhibitors, too, but that 
option has an on/off switch the hacks can control. 
They can watch what you do with your power, and cut 
you off at the balls if you try any stupid shit. 
They keep 'em handy for User visitors."  
 
"Weren't these things developed by O.R.I.?" Jim 
inquired.  
 
"Through the Oswald Research Program. And folks say 
that convicts aren't productive members of society."  
 
"So you're teletactile?" Paul inquired, returning 
focus to the purpose of the visit.  
 
Ryan nodded. "Yeah, I got The Touch. I was born with 
it. The Touch is one of the more pleasurable forms 
of power a User can have...but it wreaks havoc on 
you physically."  
 
"How so?" Jim asked.  
 
"Nervous system." he replied. "The Touch isn't JUST 
tactile...everything is heightened when you're using 
it. You have to learn how to interpret all the shit 
that's being shoved into your brain...an excercise 
in focus and heightened awareness can do that. You 
gotta be stronger than The Touch, otherwise it'll 
literally make you go blind...or deaf...or just 
drive you nuts."  
 
Jim shook his head. "Nah, no way. James Riley is no 
one's bitch. Especially not The Touch's."  
 
Ryan pointed a finger at him. "Good attitude." He 
flicked his glance over to Paul, and the guitarist 
gained a sense that the man he was dealing with was 
infinitely more dangerous than he'd thought. "Stick 
around, Rocker Boy...let's see what your buddy here 
can do."  
 
**********  
 
"How'd you get that scar?" Rhea gently asked the 
young man in front of her.  
 
Miguel Alvarez touched the scar that ran down one 
cheek and coughed. "I did that to myself, actually. 
It's kind of a long story."  
 
Rhea nodded. "I don't mean to pry."  
 
"Nah, it's okay. So anyway, Miss...?"  
 
"Mancini, but forget you know that. I'm Rhea."  
 
Miguel grinned and shrugged obligingly. "M'kay, 
Rhea. So, you're a Changeling...what flavor?"  
 
"Apparently, I'm a dragon."  
 
Miguel chuckled, a soft husky sound that made Rhea 
shiver pleasantly. "Dragon, eh? Pretty cool. 
O.R.I.'s gonna love you, dragons are real oddball. 
They love me, too...I'm a phoenix."  
 
"You mean the bird that burns up and is reborn from 
its own ashes?"  
 
"Yeah, that. Institute dude told me about one in 
every fifty Users shifts, and only one in every 
ninety shifters is something out of a sci-fi novel 
instead of a horror flick. Our kind's rare shit."  
 
"So you know much about us? Our people, I mean?" she 
asked.  
 
Miguel shrugged. "More 'n most...we're sorta 
considered the black sheep of the shifter family, 
you know? Tainted blood, that's why we're different. 
We ain't ruled by the moon, for starters."  
 
"So I don't have to lock myself up once a month? I 
mean, aside from PMS of course."  
 
Miguel laughed at her joke, making her heart leap 
pleasantly. "Nah, no reason for that. We got 
something wrong with our brain chemistry, 
though...the shit that makes us feel? There's too 
much of it."  
 
"You mean endorphins, adrenaline..."  
 
"Exactly. We get pissed real easy, and ANY real 
strong feelings can force the change on us."  
 
"That already happened to me." Rhea confirmed. "I 
got shot...made me so mad I changed, but only about 
halfway."  
 
"That's another thing, Changelings gotta LEARN to 
change form, regular shifters don't. We also ain't 
organized. Wolves got packs, leopards got their 
pards, lions got prides, but us? Nada. There's too 
many flavors, and so few of each, ya know? Never met 
another phoenix, so I'm pretty much self-taught."  
 
"Well, I appreciate you helping me out."  
 
"My pleasure...Father Ray, the chaplain, I got 
respect for him. He asked if I'd help Sister Pete by 
joining her User group, so I said sure." He paused, 
resting his forearms on the edge of the table, 
refusing to meet Rhea's gaze. "I been a shifter for 
years, got a bad batch of blood during a transfusion 
as a kid. I played with it a lot, but kept it quiet. 
Folks thought I was a Sensitive. Hacks didn't even 
know what I was until I escaped a while back...hid 
by staying shifted."  
 
"So how did they catch you again?"  
 
"I could only stay feathered so long, y'know?" He 
looked up at her. "Guess that's really lesson 
one...don't stay shifted too long, or you pay the 
price. When I go feathered...in your case, scaly...I 
stay too long, I get stuck lookin' like my animal. 
Same'll happen to you if you're not careful."  
 
Rhea took a deep breath. "Okay...I'm learning 
already."  
 
Miguel shook his head. "That gets me...Sister Pete 
needs OUR help to teach YOU folks. Never thought I'd 
be a teacher. It's cool, though...this'll look good 
at my next parole hearing in three years."  
 
Rhea gazed deep into Miguel's large, dark brown 
eyes. She'd always been a good judge of character, 
and she saw something strangely unique in this 
rough-trade, almost shy young man. Underneath the 
scars and the violent tendencies, he was a good 
person.  
 
//Not something I expected to see in a prison.// she 
realized.  
 
"How goes it?"  
 
Rhea turned to see Julia walk into the room, 
followed by Gene, Paul, and an older woman.  
 
"Going good, so far." Rhea laughed, hugging Julia 
briefly as she walked over to their table. "This is 
Miguel Alvarez. He's telling me a little about 
shapeshifting."  
 
Miguel smiled slightly at the pretty blonde. "Miguel 
Alvarez...nice to meet you."  
 
Julia reached out and shook his hand. "Julia O'Ryan, 
pleasure."  
 
Miguel's eyes went wide. "You related to O.R.I.?"  
 
"Chairman of the Board of Trustees...just a name, I 
don't make any business decisions. I leave that to 
the board, AKA my father's closest friends. The 
Institute was his baby...I'm an M.E. for a living."  
 
"Cool to meet you." he repeated before turning back 
to Rhea. "Um...you wanna break for a bit? How long 
you guys gonna be here?"  
 
Rhea gazed around the room, where the others were 
still engaged with their instructors. "A while, I 
guess. Just let me go say hi to my friends...then 
I'll be back."  
 
Miguel nodded, standing as she rose from her chair. 
The two kept their eyes locked on each other for 
several silent moments before Julia finally tugged 
Rhea over to where Gene and eventually Paul stood 
with Sister Pete.  
 
"What WAS that?" Julia hissed.  
 
"I don't know!" Rhea giggled. "All I know is that 
he's incredibly cute and sweet and smarter than he 
seems..." she trailed off with a groan. "I think I'm 
in love...again!"  
 
Julia grinned. "Hey, Paul explained it to me...The 
Elder are our soulmates. However, the Keepers are 
demigods and gods love whom they choose."  
 
"Conjugal visits at prisons are banned in this 
state." she reminded Julia as they approached Gene 
and Paul. Rhea wrapped her arms around Gene's waist 
and pressed her lips to his, deepening the kiss when 
she felt his lips part invitingly.  
 
"Well hello to you too, Little Dragon Lady." Gene 
growled.  
 
"Missed you." Rhea whispered against his mouth.  
 
"Not too much, I see...falling for the Birdman of 
Oswald?"  
 
"No." Rhea insisted. "You're enough for me, baby. 
Last night was amazing!"  
 
"Don't feel so restricted, Rhea...gods love whom 
they choose."  
 
Rhea peered over at Julia, who was locked in Paul's 
arms as Sister Pete politely turned her head. 
"That's what SHE said...but like I told her, they 
don't allow conjugals."  
 
"LOVE, Rhea...not fuck."  
 
Rhea looked back at him sharply, then turned her 
head to look at Miguel. As his gaze swept the room, 
his eyes accidentally caught hers, and the look in 
them made Rhea's chest tight.  
 
//Oh, shit.// she sighed inwardly.  
 
Meanwhile, Julia pulled back from Paul, who 
teasingly nibbled her ear as he drew her into a hug.  
 
"Is it just me, or is he a bit taken with our Little 
Dragon?" Paul murmured against Julia's ear.  
 
Julia fought the delicious chill that Paul's actions 
brought before replying. "I'm not sure...I think the 
better question is, has our Little Dragon become 
enchanted by Sister Pete's Latin phoenix with the 
puppy dog eyes?"