Daria unconsciously rubbed the bridge of her nose in an attempt to alleviate the headache that had wafted into the room with Brittany’s perfume. < I wish she’d cut down to less than a quart a day, > she thought as she jotted down the notes that Mr. O’Neill had given on one half of the page. The other half of the page was devoted to random thoughts that came into her mind: story ideas, bits of poetry, and queries on the point of going to school in the first place.
Aunt Amy had been calling a lot in the last few weeks about her health. Almost as if she expected Daria to get sick on her birthday, again. Why should this one not be like the last seventeen? If Daria kept the night hours like she had been, she was sure to be ill. At last count, Daria had slept twelve hours in seven days. It was not like she was trying to set a no sleep record, but her mind refused to clock out of work, thus pulling her body into massive overtime. The late hours assisted in finishing her story. The conclusion would write itself by tomorrow night.
“So, where’s Tom taking you for your birthday?” Jane asked, ignoring the lecture for a discussion of the weekend’s plans.
Daria sighed. “He’s not. He said something about how he’s got this killer midterm in Philosophy that he has to study for. It’s just as well. Aunt Amy wants to take me out to dinner, and then shopping. She says she has something she wants to talk about with me.”
“That sounds like what someone would say before she comes out and says that you were adopted and she’s really your mother.”
“Don’t even joke about that, Jane!” Daria’s face darkened. “I used to tell people that when I was little, and then Mom found out.”
“I’m guessing she wasn’t happy.”
“There’s a reason we didn’t see Aunt Amy until I was a junior in high school.” Jane winced and stood up as the bell rang. If there was one thing she’d learned about Helen Morgendorffer, it was her ability to hold a grudge. Especially against family members.
“So what does Helen think about her sister taking you out on the town?”
“I’ll let you know after I can tell her. She’s been working so much that I haven’t seen her long enough to say more than ‘morning’.”
“She’s not gonna be happy when she finds out.”
“She’s never happy with what I do,” muttered Daria, an underlying tone of bitterness in the words. She shook her head slightly. “Sorry, Jane. I guess I’m a little tired.”
“Been up burning the midnight oil, huh?”
“Haven’t been able to sleep. I have got some decent writing in, though.” She looked down at the cafeteria food, stabbing it absently with a fork.
“What were you writing?”
Daria shrugged. “Just a story.”
“Will you let me read it? You never let me read your stories.”
“It’s not very good. I just use them to vent, anyway.” Daria looked back down at her tray and realized that she had eaten her entire lunch.
“Wow. I didn’t think I was that hungry.”
“Well, it didn’t look as bad as normal. I’d say that, while it had achieved life, it was still below Kevin’s intelligence.” The warning bell rang as they reached their lockers. “Pizza after school?”
“Sure. Meet you here.”
________________________
Jane raised an eyebrow as Daria reached for a third piece of pizza. “Boy, you sure are hungry today,” she commented, watching her friend flush.
“Shut up, Jane,” mumbled Daria around a bite. Jane smirked and changed the topic.
“Feel up to a bad movie night? No better way to celebrate your birthday than spending quality time with the television.”
The young woman shrugged. “Sure.” Finishing off her pizza and downing the rest of her coke, she headed toward the door with Jane, shivering a bit. “They’ve got the air conditioner turned up too high for May.”
“What are you talking about? It’s not cold.”
“Great,” she muttered, pulling her jacket around herself as she began to walk the short distance to the Lane house. “That probably means I’m getting sick. Again.”
“Maybe it’s just a chill. When we get to Casa Lane, I’ll dig up a sweatshirt for you, and we’ll sit in front of the television and eat popcorn and talk about the evilness of males. Whoa, where did that come from?”
“Too much time in Barch’s class?”
“Must be.” The pair headed up the stairs towards Jane’s room. After pulling a wrinkled sweatshirt out of the bottom of the closet, Jane left to nuke the popcorn, pulling the door shut behind her. Daria looked down at the sweatshirt in her hand, sighed, and unzipped her jacket.
Jane stopped at the bottom of the stairs. < I forgot to ask what she wanted to drink, > she thought, turning around and climbing them again. She was about to walk into her room when she glanced at the gap between the door and the frame. It took every ounce of self-control to stifle her gasp of shock. She had never seen her friend change clothing before, and now she knew why. From this angle, Jane could see almost all of Daria’s ribs. Her pleated skirt hung loosely on her hips, and the knobs of her spine stood out in a straight line down her friend’s narrow back, but the most shocking thing to Jane was the collection of dark purple bruises that decorated Daria’s upper body, including her arms. Her view was blocked by the cloth of the shirt, and she took a moment to compose herself before walking into the room. “Daria, what do you want to drink?”
“Umm, Coke?” The girl flopped down on the bed and reached for the remote control.
“Right, I think we might have some. I was thinking, would you like to order Chinese later?” Jane leaned against the doorframe casually.
“Sure. Did you have any preferences for movies?”
“ ‘The Mummy’ just came out.”
“Oh, good. Nothing like computer-generated effects.”
“Yeah, so I’ll just go and make that popcorn now.” Jane left the room quickly. “Not really. Since Sick Sad World went off the air, there’s not been much on.” She muted the TV and turned toward her friend. “Do you have the movies?” “Not yet. I need to go and motivate Trent, since he won’t let me drive his hunk of junk.” “Hey, she may not look like much, but she’s got it where it counts,” countered Daria, a smirk on her face. “Nice Star Wars reference.” “I try.” _________________ Jane watched from her bedroom window as her friend walked out of the house and down the sidewalk. She sipped her steaming coffee and moved downstairs to pour another, bringing it to her brother’s room. “Trent?” No response. “Trent?” She waved the coffee near his nose, and he mumbled something before burying his face into a pillow. “Trent!” “What?!” He bolted up into a sitting position on his bed. “Janey, go away.” “I need to talk to someone.” “So go find Daria.” “It’s about Daria.” “This doesn’t involve hair dye, does it?” Jane whacked him in the arm and sat down on the bed. “Be serious!” “It’s too early, Janey.” “That’s why I brought you the coffee.” Jane played with one of her earrings as Trent gulped down the caffeine-laden beverage. “Does Daria seem . . .different to you?” “Different how?” “Physically.” “Aw, Janey . . .” “C’mon, Trent, you’re a guy. I know you look.” “Well,” Trent hedged. Jane glared at him. “I probably wouldn’t notice this if I saw her everyday, but she’s lost weight. You can see it in her face.” He stared into the coffee cup as if it had all the answers to the universe. “It was weight she couldn’t afford to lose, either. She’s always been way too thin.” Jane shot him a look that said, ‘how do you know that?’ and he told her. “Remember after the hurricane? Jake and I were out looking for you two and when we found you, I gave each of you a hug? I could tell then. Janey, what brought this on?” “I accidentally saw her change into a sweatshirt,” admitted Jane, taking a sip of coffee. She went on to describe what she had seen. “I wondered if maybe she had an eating disorder, but that’s not like her, and besides, I watched her eat enough Chinese food to make me sick to my stomach, and she didn’t throw it up or anything. I don’t know. I’m just grasping at straws here. I just wish I knew where those bruises came from.” “If she’s that thin, she’d bruise a lot more easily,” Trent informed her, getting out of bed and fishing around underneath for his lyric notebook. “How would you know that?” Trent looked at her sadly. “Monique’s anorexic.” “Really?” “Yeah. That’s why we broke up for good. She refuses to get help, and then she started doing drugs to help her lose more weight, and wouldn’t stop. I can’t have her pull me into that.” “Wow, Trent, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” “Yeah, me too.” Trent looked down at a blank page on his notebook, and then looked back at his sister. “Anyway, that explains the bruises. Just normal touching, like someone grabbing your arm, would leave them.” “So what should I do?” “Janey, I’m not Dr. Laura.” “The goatee gave that away.” Trent sighed. “Just be there for her, Janey. Daria doesn’t have too many people that she can talk to.” ______________________ Daria sighed softly as she walked into the house, feeling the familiar tension fall around her like a dense fog. Her father was sitting on the couch in the family room, watching a baseball game. “Hey, kiddo.” “Hey, dad. Who’s playing?” “Indians vs. the Braves.” “Any riots yet?” “Hmm?” “Never mind. Is Mom in?” “Sorry, kiddo, she’s at work. Is it something you can talk about with your old Dad?” “Aunt Amy’s taking me out to dinner and then shopping tonight for my birthday. I’m not sure when she’ll get me back.” “Thanks for telling me. Speaking of your birthday, I got you a little something. I left it on your bed. I’ll let you set it up yourself. Happy Eighteenth, Daria.” “Thanks, Dad.” Daria hesitated, and then gave in. She hugged him quickly before heading up to her room to see what Jake had left there. Sitting on her bed, still in its box, was a laptop computer. After taking it out of the box and checking out its abilities, she gave it a pleased smile and shut it down, looking at the clock as she opened the closet door. She flipped through her school outfits quickly, past her two lonely pairs of jeans, and shuddered when she came in contact with the garment bag that contained that hideous bridesmaid’s dress. “You know, a year ago this would be prime blackmail.” “But you’re above all that now, right?” “Keep telling yourself that. What do you need?” “Amy said to wear something formal. All I have in my closet is that horrid dress from Erin’s wedding.” “You want formalwear?” “If it were anybody else, I’d tell them to stick their dress requests where the sun don’t shine. I don’t technically want formalwear, Quinn, but I need it.” “All right, let me think through this,” she said, moving through her collection rapidly, occasionally pausing on one. “Here we go, this one is perfect for you.” She pulled out a long dress made of silver satin with spaghetti straps. “No way, Quinn.” “But this would look so cute on you!” “Quinn, I’m not wearing anything that shows my upper body or my arms.” “Stop being such a baby and try it on,” said Quinn, coming up behind her and unzipping her jacket, whisking it off before Daria knew what was happening. She gasped and dropped the jacket when she saw what it had been covering. “I didn’t know.” “No one does,” Daria said quietly, picking up her jacket from the floor. “How long have you been like this?” “It started six months ago. Please don’t tell Mom.” “I won’t tell. How bad is it?” Daria silently lifted her shirt midway up her ribcage, and Quinn pressed her lips together in an action much like her mother. “All right, then. Something that covers your arms and back.” She rifled through her collection again, finally pulling out a dark blue velvet dress with long sleeves. “This would set off your skin and hair.” “Can I wear my boots with it?” __________________ “So, Amy, do you come here often?” Daria sat back in her chair, her feet dangling off the floor a tiny bit. “Oh, every once in a while.” She smiled at the waiter who was pouring out a glass of wine for her. “I’ll have the usual, John.” “Of course, Amy. And your niece?” Daria shrugged. “She’ll have the usual too.” Amy waited until John had left the room, closing the doors behind him. “Now we can talk.” “About what?” “About your heritage. Your background. All the strange things that have been happening to you over the last six months.” “Well, there was that time that I was visited by physical representations of the holidays, but that was awhile ago. What strange things?” “You aren’t sleeping. You find you can remember things much better now than you could before. You’ve lost a fair amount of weight recently. You find that you’re extremely sensitive to perfumes and other scents.” Amy ticked these off on her fingers. “Let’s see, did I miss anything? Oh yes, one last thing.” She reached across the table and removed the girl’s glasses. “You’ve been getting horrid headaches.” “Amy, I need my glasses.” “No you don’t. Look at me.” The blur that was Amy slowly resolved itself into clarity. “What’s going on?” “Your eyes have been trying to correct themselves for a while. That’s partly why you’ve been having the headaches.” “Vision problems don’t just correct themselves, Amy.” Daria was getting angry. Amy sighed. “If I’d had it my way, I would have prepared you much better for this. Daria, do you want to hear the scientific explanation or the one I was given?” “At this point I’d like any explanation.” “You and I are something called Trackers. It’s a rare condition in certain families, and shows up once each generation.” “You’re nuts.” “No, I’m not. The reason you’re losing weight is your metabolism increased by fifty percent. Your body will never need sleep again. Your mind and senses are at least twice as sharp as before. The other factor in your headaches is that you have latent telepathic abilities, and most people broadcast.” “I repeat: You are nuts.” “If I’m crazy, Daria, then so are you. I know what you’re going through, because I went through the exact same thing you are now. The abilities start coming in about six months before your eighteenth birthday, and they stay that way until you hit your mid-50’s. Think about it, Daria. It explains everything that’s been happening to your body. It’s the answer to the roller coaster of questions and fears.” “You’re going to have to prove it to me.” “I thought as much.” She cut off her conversation as the waiter brought in two platters of food. “First things first. You need to eat everything on that plate before we go out. Your body’s on overdrive, it needs more food than you’ve been eating to keep going. Then I’ll introduce you to a friend of mine, and then we’ll find your proof.” __________________________ Daria watched from the driver’s seat of the convertible as Duncan and Amy efficiently cut through the small band of vampires. They had shown her a captured vampire earlier, and gone through a few tests to prove that it was a vampire. < I really liked the holy water test. I’ll have to remember that when I start doing this on my own. Wait a minute, what am I saying? I can’t do this on my own. > “Could you feel them, Daria?” Amy put her sword into its scabbard and slid it under her seat. “Have we made you into a believer?” Daria nodded. “Amy is Duncan . . .different?” “She’s good,” commented Duncan, grinning from the backseat. “Took you a month before you could pick that up.” “You can hush any time. Daria, Duncan is something called an Immortal.” “Which means?” “Lives a normal life until first death, after that he won’t die permanently unless you cut off his head. Duncan’s been training Trackers in our family for four generations. Which leads me to my next question: Do you want to join this fight? Do you want to learn how to use these abilities?” Daria ignored the logical part of her, which was jumping up and down screaming ‘This isn’t possible,’ and nodded in agreement. Amy smiled. “Wonderful. MacLeod, take us back to my hotel. I’ve got the feeling that it’s time for a grueling Q&A session.” _________________ “So are you and Duncan . . .?” Daria watched her aunt squirm as she bit into a cheese fry. “For a little while, anyway. Duncan has this thing against commitments with mortals, and he’s had this on again, off again thing going on for about four hundred years with an Immortal named Amanda.” Amy poured herself a coke. “What about you? Any men in your life?” “Well, there’s Tom.” She stared contemplatively at her drink. “To be honest, I’m not sure if that’s going to last much longer.” “Don’t let this stuff keep you from being with someone, Daria.” “I was thinking that before you told me all of this. Tom’s a great guy, but we just don’t connect.” “What about your friend Jane’s brother? I know you were interested in him.” “And how do you know that?” “When you introduced us, I picked up pheromones from you.” “Great. We have no secrets. Trent’s a friend. We’re too far apart for anything more, I think.” Daria looked across the couch at her aunt, a depressed look on her face, and decided to change the topic. “So how will I explain training to Mom?” “Internship at Xavier’s School for the Gifted. I have friends there who are going to help you learn how to manage everything. We’ll go shopping when the stores open up tomorrow morning.” “You realize I hate shopping.” “I’m not too fond of it myself, but you’ll need a little bit of everything. Some clothes, some weapons, and a little practice at reading people. All part of a Tracker’s balanced life.” “What are the other parts?” “Friends, family, and chocolate. I think I’m going to order a hot fudge sundae.” ________________ “Right now, the only thing you have to remember about the weapons is to not carry them until you’ve begun training.” Amy settled the box that contained the set of sheathed daggers into Duncan’s arms and turned back to her niece. “We’re going to have a sword made for you that will be exactly like the one you picked out, except that it’ll be made of a metal alloy that’s incredibly light and tough. Now, time for clothes.” “Amy, wouldn’t it be better to wait until I’ve gained back the weight before we get new clothes?” Daria looked up pleadingly, grasping at any chance to get her out of clothes shopping. “For most clothing, that’s true, but you’ll need workout clothing now and, speaking from experience, it’ll take the better part of a month to get back to where you started. C’mon, we’re burning daylight here.” _________________ Amy pulled into the Morgendorffer driveway and shut off the engine. “Before we go in, I have one last thing for you.” She reached up and unfastened the necklace she was wearing, handing it to her niece. “This is the necklace that my aunt gave me when she told me about Trackers. I want you to have it now. Think of it as part of your heritage.” Daria solemnly fastened the silver cross around her neck. “Thank you, Amy. For everything.” She got out of the car, wrestling with her packages, and walked into the house. “Where have you been, Daria?” Helen looked at her daughter, an angry look superimposed over her features. “I was with Aunt Amy.” Helen raised her eyebrow skeptically. “Ask Dad. He told me to have fun.” “Jake!” “Huh?” Jake’s head popped up from it’s spot on the back of the couch. “Did you give Daria permission to go out with Amy last night?” “Umm, yes?” Helen sighed. “Daria, go up to your room. I need to have a little talk with your father.” She glared at Jake, who shrank behind his newspaper. Daria carried her packages over to the stairs. “Sweetie, where did all that stuff come from?” Daria had been dreading this question. She hated making real waves at home, and she knew that Helen had forgotten her birthday. The problem was, as soon as Helen realized what had happened, the flood would begin, and she wasn’t prepared to give answers. Not after all that happened over the past two days. “I went shopping. I needed some new clothes, and Amy’s hotel was right next to the mall.” “That’s wonderful, sweetie!” Helen beamed at Daria. “It’s nice to see you taking an interest in normal things, for a change.” “Um, yeah.” Daria moved quickly up the stairs and into the safety of her room. After changing back into her normal outfit, she darted over to Quinn’s room, the velvet dress in hand, left it on her bed, and headed back into her little padded domicile. After plugging in the electric teapot Quinn had given her for Christmas last year (with the admonition that caffeine would ruin her skin), she rummaged through the bags until she came up with the book that Amy had handed to her. She set her glasses, with their new non-prescription lenses, on the desk and curled up to read about her heritage. __________________________ Jane peeked around the corner, scoping out her locker before approaching it cautiously. She was so intent on getting her books out quickly that she didn’t hear Daria approach. “Jane?” Daria stepped back in alarm as her friend screeched and dropped her books. “Maybe you should cut back on your caffeine intake.” “What? Caffeine? I haven’t had any coffee!” Jane’s heart was pounding. She hadn’t expected someone wearing those heavy boots to be able to sneak up on anybody. “Is everything all right, Jane?” Daria looked at her friend sideways as she spun the knob on her locker. “You’re a little jumpy.” “No, I’m fine. It’s all hunky-dory, nothing wrong at all. Fine.” After an awkward pause, Jane blurted out, “Gotta go,” and made tracks toward her first class, one she didn’t share with Daria. “That was odd.” Daria shut her locker and began to walk away. “Wait a second, am I talking to myself again?” __________________________ She tapped her pencil against her notebook, ignoring the math lecture. < I almost gave it all away. We’ve been telling each other things for so long that I can’t keep my mouth shut. > Jane looked up when she felt a nudge. “Mr. Campbell’s watching you,” muttered the football player behind her. She thought his name was Jamie. “Thanks for the warning.” “You’re welcome.” < That was odd. > ______________________ The last remaining weeks until graduation seemed to race by, and Jane was caught in a helpless, awkward feeling toward her best friend. She’d found that she couldn’t paint or sketch when Daria was around, a fact that she attributed to her nervousness. These feelings were opening a chasm between them, a break that she couldn’t close, because the only way to close it would be admitting that she didn’t trust her ‘freakin’ friend’ anymore. The suspicions and worries had been growing like brambles in Jane’s thoughts. < At least it’ll be easy to avoid her over the summer, > thought Jane, fiddling with the mortarboard in her hand. Daria had informed her, just before they lined up for the processional, that she had gotten an internship at Xavier’s School for the Gifted, a year-round boarding school. She would be working with their creative writing program. She turned her attention to the stage as Jodie finished her presentation and Daria stood up to give her salutorian speech. “I know that you’re all anxious to get out of here and get drunk. Well, hopefully the fact that my speech is over will get you to that goal a little closer.” Daria walked back to her seat, smirking as she caught a glimpse of Ms. Li’s red face. At the close of the ceremony, Jane walked over to Jake, Quinn, Daria, and Trent, a small amount of uncertainty in her face. Daria turned to Jane, the closest thing she had to a smile showing itself. “Pictures?” “Sure. Nice speech you gave.” “I thought it was appropriate” ____________________ The blinking mail icon was laughing at Jane. She was sure of it. Since Daria had left for her internship two weeks earlier, she had thrown herself into a frenzy of artistic expression, moving from painting and sketching to sculpture to photography, which had become really interesting when she took a class and it turned out to be taught by a former classmate, Jamie White. All this hard work had depleted her energies, and she hadn’t had the time to write to Daria. At least, that’s what she had told herself. But now an e-mail was waiting in her box, with her friend’s current web address clearly displayed. She hadn’t worked up the courage to read it yet. She steeled herself and clicked the mail open. Dear Jane, The other teachers here are really interesting. Most of them are attached couples that tend to be more than a little sickening in public, which reminds me of something that I need to tell you-I broke up with Tom. He showed up unannounced one afternoon, walked in, and almost immediately began to criticize the other teachers, the school building, the students, and my ability to teach. He told me that it was ‘unfitting for the future Mrs. Sloane to lower herself by teaching charity cases’, which, since the school is almost entirely funded by scholarships and donations (it’s become a popular charity among the billionaires), included most of the students. To be honest, I was upset about the ‘future Mrs. Sloane’ line. We both know that, as I am, I don’t fit in with his world. He started to take it all way to seriously when he went off to Harvard, and I just can’t do that. Life’s too short to waste time catering to the self-proclaimed powerful. Jane, I know you’re upset with me about something, but could you come up for a visit in a couple of weeks? I put my number down at the end of the e-mail. Daria. Jane read through the e-mail twice before scribbling the number down on a post-it note. The tone seemed more open, somehow. Something was definitely going on besides this break-up, and she was determined to figure it out. < Here goes nothin’. > She picked up the phone and dialed the number. ________________ Jane looked around the train station with a small amount of internal trepidation. It wasn’t that she hadn’t ridden the train to New York before, but never alone and never when she was already nervous. “Hey.” Jane turned around and smirked at her friend. “Hey. Are we ready to go?” “Just about. Do you want to stop somewhere for lunch?” “They don’t serve food at this school?” “It depends on who’s cooking. Today, no.” “Huhh?” “You’ll thank me when you see the charred meal the others attempted to consume.” Daria dug the keys out of her pocket and lead them to a small red convertible. “Nice wheels.” Jane eyed the car, impressed. Her friend smirked at her. “Borrowed them from one of the other teachers. Pizza sound good?” “Works for me.” Jane watched as they left the city, moving into the suburbs. “So, where exactly is the school?” “It’s in Westchester, on the outskirts.” Daria bit her lip nervously, not sure what to say next. She wanted to spill everything to her friend, but it would take much longer than a twenty minute drive, and with the top down on the convertible, speaking was more difficult. It would just have to wait until after they got back. _____________ Jane stared up at the mansion, feeling a tad bit overwhelmed but hiding it well. “Well, you’ve moved up in the world, Daria.” “Now instead of staying at my parent’s house in the suburbs, I’m staying at someone else’s house in the suburbs.” She guided Remy’s car into its parking spot in the garage, and grabbed one of Jane’s bags. “I can get that.” Jane reached for her duffel bag, which mostly held art supplies. “So can I.” Daria lead Jane to the elevator that would take them up to the second floor. “I’ll give you the guided tour later, Jane. We really need to talk.” “No kidding.” They hiked up the stairs to the girl’s wing, Daria briefly greeting a set of identical twins before ducking into her room. “I’ll take you around and introduce you after we talk.” Daria sat down on the desk chair and looked at her best friend, who took up a similar position on the bed. “Wow, this is harder than I thought.” “Let me guess first. You’re pregnant, and Elvis is the father.” “Nope.” “You’re really a drug lord, and this is your other identity.” “Not hardly.” “You’ve got superpowers.” “That’s actually much warmer.” Daria sighed, taking her glasses off and setting them on the desk. “Before you actually tell me, I have something to tell you.” “You’re pregnant, and Elvis is the father?” “Not the last time I checked, but thanks for asking. Remember that night you came over and we watched ‘The Mummy’?” “Yes.” “While you were changing into the sweatshirt, I kinda saw you.” Daria thought back to what she had looked like back then. “I’m guessing you want an explanation?” At Jane’s nod, Daria leaned back against the chair. “I do have superpowers. Kind of. They’re actually just powers, not superpowers. It’s my heritage, something that’s run through my family for several generations. I’m what’s called a Tracker.” Jane gave Daria a blank look, and she began to explain further. “I have special abilities, like enhanced senses and some empathic and telepathic abilities, that enable me to both track and hunt.” “Track what?” “Specifically? I track vampires, demons, and other supernatural creatures, although I can track ordinary humans if I need to.” “Okay, we just went from sharing secrets to sharing delusions.” “Jane, you’re the first person that I’ve had to explain this to, and you’re not making it any easier. I’ll prove to you that vampires exist later. Do you want to hear the rest of this or not?” “Sure.” “All right then. I’m getting training in using these abilities, plus some martial arts, from some friends of Amy’s. I’m also getting training in mental shielding, and they’re giving me therapy as an added bonus. If I could, I’d get Amy for that.” “Why are they giving you therapy? You were fine before.” “No, I wasn’t. I was self-conscious and alienated with underlying rage issues.” “Rage?” “Did you know that Helen never mentioned anything about my eighteenth birthday? It’s as if the day never occurred. She had a conference she had to attend, so she never came to graduation. I could give you a detailed list, but I won’t.” “Get back to those powers, delusional girl. Can you fly?” “No.” Daria gave herself a secret smile, knowing that her friend was in for a surprise when she started meeting the other members of the mansion. “Other than the enhanced senses, the only other thing that can really be called a power would be the magic-free zone.” “Excuse me?” “There’s something akin to a magic-free bubble surrounding me. As my powers develop, the bubble will get larger. It pretty much means that spells don’t affect me at all, nor can they be cast when I’m around. It’s something that’s gotten Trackers killed, ironically enough.” “Your power gets people killed?” “You know how the church has supposedly hunted down witches? Witches hunted down Trackers because the loss of power frightened them.” “They couldn’t fight back?” “Most Trackers are weaker physically. That’s one of the downsides. The ones who didn’t have the training I’m getting were completely defenseless.” “This is really strange.” “Can you handle it being stranger?” “I guess.” “Amy thinks you’re a natural witch.” “A natural witch?” “Someone who has inborn magical abilities, but no training in witchcraft. It usually manifests itself in something like an inner sense, and through the person’s natural abilities. Amy thinks your art is partially fueled by this. You’d still be an artist if you weren’t a witch, but you use your magic when you paint or sketch. Jane, I know that this is hard to take in. Amy took me out hunting after she told me all this. Well, we had the dedication first, but after that we went out.” “Dedication?” Jane’s mind was seriously spinning now. “I dedicated myself to fighting evil, and to use my abilities for good. I know it sounds like a cult or something, but it’s not.” “I think I need some caffeine.” Jane stood up. “I’ll take you down to the kitchen.” They headed toward the door. “Before we venture out, I should warn you that when it says ‘School for the Gifted’, it really means ‘School for the Gifted’.” “So I’m stuck in a house full of really smart people?” “Not exactly.” Daria walked out into the hallway, a smirk on her face. She took her friend down two flights of stairs and through a long hallway, eventually ending up in the kitchen. A tall man with brownish-red hair was standing with his back to them, facing the stove. After going to the refrigerator, pulling out two cokes, and handing one to Jane, Daria decided to make her move. “Remy, this is my friend Jane.” The man turned around, and Jane gave an excellent rendition of a spit-take when she caught a glimpse of his eyes, which were red and black. “Ya did that on purpose, petite,” he chided. “Of course. Jane, this is Remy LeBeau, also known as Gambit, of the X-Men.” “Oookay.” Jane’s natural ebullience came through in the nick of time. “So, do you have powers too?” She cautiously sipped her drink. “Oui.” He pulled a playing card out of his back pocket and held it in front of Jane, who watched with fascination as it began to glow pink. “M’power is changin’ potential energy to kinetic.” Remy reversed the process, slipping the card back to its place. “He blows stuff up,” remarked Daria. “One thing to remember: Don’t let him pull that trick on a credit card.” “Is everyone else going to get a similar reaction from me?” Daria shrugged. “Pretty much.” _____________________ Jane was sprawled out across the far back seat of the van. “Where are we going again?” “Tonight we’re hitting the cemeteries of Manhattan,” explained the tall, dark-haired man behind the wheel. “Boy, you sure know how to show a girl a good time, Duncan.” Amy smirked from the passenger seat. “Hopefully, it’ll be a very good time.” Daria was tapping away at her laptop. “I’m almost ready for a beta -read, if anyone’s interested.” Amy held out her hand for the machine, and Daria passed it over. “We’re almost there,” warned Duncan. Amy sighed and passed the computer back to her niece. “I’ll read it tomorrow morning.” Daria saved her work and closed it down, then shifted so she was sitting with her legs crossed under her. Jane wanted to ask what she was doing, but was unsure who to ask. She watched as Amy did something similar, and shrugged. < Must be a Tracker thing. > “Remember, Shorty, you’re just here to find them. Let me take ‘em out.” The gruff-looking man looked uncomfortable in the soft seat cushions of the school van. The panther lying on the floor looked up at him, blinking green eyes. “All right, you can let Vic take out a few as well.” “How am I supposed to gain experience in using these skills if you won’t let me use them?” “Wait a few more weeks, then you can have ‘real-life’ training,” Amy inserted. “You guys never let me have any fun.” “Hey, training isn’t supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be about hard work and discipline.” “So says the Boy Scout,” muttered Logan. “We’re here.” Duncan parked the van in an inconspicuous spot at the edge of the parking lot, and all it’s passengers unloaded themselves onto the pavement. “So now what do we do?” “We start looking.” The group split up into two, Amy and Duncan taking the perimeter while the others moved deeper into the cemetery, with varying degrees of stealthiness. Jane realized that this trip was an integral part of Daria’s training when she stopped several times and reported what she sensed, gaining a nod of approval from Logan. “Logan, a group of five, off to the left.” Daria’s soft voice gently broke the silence. “Ya sure?” “Yes.” Logan took one last puff on his cigar before dropping it to the ground and grinding it into the dirt. “ ‘Bout time.” Jane kept her mouth shut and moved to the side as the five vampires jumped from their positions, almost too quick for her to see. “Remember to keep one alive so Jane can get a good look,” said Daria, holding herself in a defensive position, a wooden cross that could double as a stake in her right hand. Jane thought that she had gotten a close enough look already, and that thought was doubled when one of the five broke away from Logan and Victandra and came into their direction. Daria thrust her cross into his face and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small bottle and tossing its contents on the attackers face. As he shrieked from the contact of the holy water, she thrust her stake into his chest, pulling the wood back out as he disintegrated into dust. “Shorty, I told you to let me handle them.” “And you’re doing such a bang-up job of it,” she replied scathingly, moving back into the defensive position, then whirling around. “Two more, Logan.” The hairy mutant cursed and popped his claws out, going for their necks before the shock had worn out. As the dust settled, Daria turned to Jane. “Convinced?” ____________________ Daria waved to her friend as the train pulled out of the station, then began to fight the crush of the crowd. As she reached the peripheral edges, she caught a scent that reminded her a little of Logan, without the cigars. It was a pleasant smell, and for a moment she considered tracking it, but then decided against it. < What am I going to do, go up to some strange man and tell him he smells good? > Her training would continue as normal when she returned to the mansion, and she dawdled a little in the sunshine before heading back to the cute little red car. Remy and Rogue had left for another of their “information tours” and she had claimed driver’s privileges by taking up their shifts in the cooking rotation, something that had pleased most of the residents, who had been a little overexposed to both the cinders that Rogue called chicken and the flamingly spicy meals Remy called tame. _____________________ Trent trudged down the road, his bandmate Max at his side. “How could you let the tank go empty, man?” “I was counting on the cash from this gig to fill it. I’ve been completely broke for two weeks. Car insurance sucks.” The bald man kicked at an old can. “I hate walking.” “Yeah, well, you could have borrowed something.” “From who, Trent? You’re the only guy who would lend me any money, and Amanda forgot to leave enough to cover the bills at your house. You’re as broke as I am.” “I hate it when you’re right, Max.” They walked along the highway in partial silence, punctuated with an occasional lyric thrown at the other. Max had learned to keep a notebook and a microcassette player with him when traveling with Trent. He composed better when he didn’t have to worry about getting everything written down. “There’s a gas station.” Trent could hear the relief in Max’s voice when the lights of the station came into view. After grabbing some snacks and drinks, filling two gas cans, and paying for it all out of their gig money, they headed back into the night. They were barely out of the lights when the attack came. Trent got out one shout before they took him down. In the glow of the fluorescent lights, Max screamed in horror when he saw the faces of their six attackers. One had opened up Trent’s neck and was greedily sucking out the blood that flowed out, and Max knew what they were doing instantly when the same creature opened up her wrist and began trickling the blood down Trent’s throat. When she was satisfied with the amount of blood, she pulled her wrist away, laying strong white fingers against the wound. “Mmm, musicians taste so good.” She licked her lips, her vampiric face hidden again. The face she had worn as a human was slightly round, and would have had a mild, sweet look to it if it weren’t for the blood on her chin. She walked over to Max, who was being held by two of her vampires, and kissed him on the head, her lips leaving a bloody print behind. “You would be so perfect for my little army.” Her gaze became unfocused, and she stared into the empty space behind him for a moment before coming out of her trance with a look of disappointment. “But it’s not to be. Such a pity. You would be so very ruthless, and so ideally suited for hunting down my enemies. Oh well.” She bared her fangs, and Max steeled himself for the pain. The pain came, but from an unexpected source. He looked down at the red that was soaking his shirt, looked at the owner of the gas station, who had come running out with a sawed-off shotgun, and then looked at the sweet expression on the vampire’s face. He crumpled to the ground. “Saw that one coming.” “Mistress Tara, shall we bring our new brother along?” Tara shook her head. “Leave him. We’ll let him terrorize his family a bit, and come back for him later. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.” “As you wish.” _________________________ Max came to on a slab in the morgue. A small box lay at his side, containing all his piercing rings, and he tried to put them back in before he realized that all his piercings were closed up. < That was one weird dream, > he thought, sitting up. It was then that he noticed his surroundings. Most notably, Trent on the slab next to him. Considering the strangeness of the situation, Max felt a small amount of personal triumph that he didn’t scream right there and then. Instead, he looked around for his clothes, his body on autopilot as he tried to figure out what was going on. He knew she hadn’t made him drink, and from the reading he had done in high school, while he was in his Goth phase, he knew that there had to be some amount of blood transfer to make him a vampire. < So what in the world am I? > Max slipped out of the unguarded basement and headed out the door into the sunshine. He had to find the answers. He would have had the answers much faster if he had stayed in the morgue for a few more minutes. The local police had called Jane, the only Lane in town at the moment, when Trent and Max had been brought in. The morgue needed a positive family ID before they could begin processing him, and Daria had been brought along for support. In the two minutes Daria could stand of the room before fleeing, they not only identified Trent’s body, they discovered the demon that resided within. _________________ Daria watched as Jane rifled through Trent’s closet in search of a suit to give the funeral home. Her friend gave a good appearance of being able to deal with what had happened, but she could smell the fear and despair, a development in her powers that she had been working on for a while. She wished she had never even thought about being able to smell emotions now. “So Trent was definitely drained, and Max disappeared from the hospital?” “In broad daylight. He was accidentally shot by the owner, when the so-called attackers were going after what they wanted.” Jane pulled a suit that was only slightly out of date out of her brother’s closet. “Here we go. At least he’ll be presentable for his rebirth.” The bitterness in her voice quickly gave over to tears. “I don’t know if I can stake him, Jane.” Daria began to pace the length of Trent’s cluttered room, stepping over small piles of dirty laundry on the floor. “It’s . . .Trent. My first crush. One of my closest friends. And don’t look at me like that. You can’t do it either.” “But what can we do?” Jane sank wearily onto the bed. “We can’t let-” “I know.” Daria continued her pacing across the room, two months of intensive martial arts training having made the moves graceful. After what seemed like an eternity, she turned back to Jane. “Hand me the phone. I need to talk to Amy.” “Got an idea?” “Remembering something I read about a while ago. It’s only been done twice, and not very well the first time, but it’s a chance.” Max ducked into the back of the funeral home. The attendance was sparse, but most of Trent’s family had managed to make it in. His sister was sitting next to that friend of hers, the quiet girl, and he ducked behind a convenient potted plant when she looked up. Trent was one of his closest friends, the only one he’d ever been able to depend on, and he had to see this through. < Even if I have to kill both of us to do it. > He jumped, startled, when he felt a small hand grasp his arm. “Max, we have to talk.” It was that quiet girl, and Jane was next to her. They quickly took him out of the building, moving into the graveyard and toward a set of benches in the corner. “So, you just woke up in the morgue with no clue, right?” “Umm, pretty much, yeah.” “Want the full story of how this happened?” “It’d be nice.” “You’re an Immortal.” “Which means what?” “Given a gift of immortality. I’ll explain everything in detail later. Right now, we have bigger problems. How much do you remember?” “Trent and I were walking to the gas station to get gas. The Tank ran out. We were walking out, and vampires grabbed us. Then-” “Wait a second, you know about vampires?” “I was into the Goth scene for a while in high school, and I got interested.” “That simplifies the explanation a little. Go on.” “They grabbed us both. There were about six of them. The leader grabbed Trent and drank his blood, then gave him her own. She was getting ready to drain me, and then I think I was shot. Woke up next to Trent on a slab.” “We have a plan, and we need your help. How much do you know about magic, the real kind?” “I know a little. Andrea’s pretty fluent in it.” “That’s good. Call her up.” ________________ Jane sat nervously in a circle with Max and Andrea. “So, you two are brother and sister?” “Step. Max lets me crash at his place when the ‘rents get annoying. Your brother sure is taking a long time to rise. You sure he’s been turned?” “Daria could smell it. Besides, Trent’s always been a late sleeper.” Jane fiddled with the object in her hands. It had been agreed that since she was his sister, she would make the best focal point to the soul-binding. The ground below seemed to stir, and the little group braced themselves and began the spell. < Boy, hope this works. > _____________ Daria was sitting on the porch of the Lane house, taking a quick inventory of the night. It had been quiet since the little group left before sundown, but this way she kept her nervousness tied down. She was still sitting when they approached the house. “It worked.” It was not a question. “Good, now Max and Trent get to the real fun. Training. You can start tomorrow. I’ve got a few people that I need to introduce you all to. In the mean time, Trent, you can come inside.” She impulsively reached up and hugged Trent, who hugged her back. As the group went into the house, Daria hung back to talk to Andrea, who had stayed on the front steps. “Coming in?” “Nah. I think I’m gonna hit the road.” “Where to?” Andrea shrugged. “Trying for the West Coast. I’ve heard there’s some places out there that could help me learn more.” “You know you’re not a natural witch, right?” “Yeah. But I still like learning the craft.” “Take care, Andrea.” “You too.” Andrea walked off into the night. Daria watched her leave, then went in to her friends. “Who wants pizza? Sorry, Trent, they don’t deliver blood.” End.
Well, here it is, my second week here at Xavier’s. I have to say that it’s a lot different than I expected. The students are great, mostly
High-school age. There’s this set of sisters, daughters of the founder of the school, who entertain themselves by pulling practical jokes. So far, though, I’ve been able to slip out of the jokes. You need to come up some time and help me set up a few jokes. Hint, hint.
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