1.

“Satanic lima bean,Satanic lima bean.”

Sara Franklin repeated the words several times,then grinned broadly.

“I do believe we have a winner” she chuckled, as mock-horrorific images of farmers being devoured by bloody vines and children’s heads rotating after they ate their veggies played in her head. There! Let anybody come up with a weirder Net handle than that! Ebola,you’ve met your match. Sara didn’t think she could wait to show up the jazzman who had challenged his fellow hackers to this silly contest. Weirdest person on the Net? Yeah,right...wait till he sees that signature.

Nothing much in the way of e-mail except...except for an encrypted message with the subject line I GIVE UP,from another of her Net friends who called himself “Galahad”. It was Galahad who had introduced Sara to the wonderful world of hacking and to “The Crusaders”,a loose-knit group of hackers,surfers,info-hounds and whistleblowers(led by an Oxford professor)dedicated to rooting out corruption wherever they suspected it. Galahad was a good sort (even wrote her some poetry) but,unlike his legendary namesake,his heart was NOT pure. Sighing,Sara decoded the message.

“ACE,

Ever heard of “La Main de la Mer”? They’re supposed to be some kind of high powered enviromentalist group out of Canada. There have been a few rumors about them being involved with eco-terrorism (even to the point of having major eco-offenders disposed of),but nothing even approaching a serious accusation.

That,however,may have changed. Three days ago,one of my sources gave me a very tasty little morsel. It seems that “Le Main” shares a great many personnel with Pisces International,a fishing/shipping/whatever corporation from around your area. There have been nasty allegations about those guys for years,although nobody has been able to get anything on them(without the evidence disappearing,or the investigator suddenly dropping the case,that is).

I tried a little investigating of my own,but ran into security protocols straight out of Dante’s Inferno. Perhaps you’d like a try? Here’s the location.

Hmmm. Sara had,of course, heard of Pisces. They had originated not far from her home of Salem,Massachusetts. Inns...port...or something like that,an ancient section of Gloucester that had burned out during Prohibition...something about a government raid ...bootleggers most likely. They were in Boston now.

Well...The Ace of Spades was certainly in the mood for a good challenge. Let’s see...gotta have some music...Oh Yeah,Blue Oyster Cult ...nothing like Eric Bloom growling “Dominance and Submission” to put one in the mood for butt-kicking.

Twenty minutes later,Sara was beginning to think she should have chosen AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell”,because that where these security protocols were from! With a groan,she slumped back in her chair. Whoever wrote that program had her highest admiration...Ah...to be in the front row of a class that he taught...probably have to fight for the front row...this would give everyone she knew fits...well...maybe not everyone.

2.

“It’s agreed then?”

“Yes,she dies tomorrow night.”

“Should we leave a real mess,to send a message?”

“Nah,keep it simple. A robbery gone wrong.”

“A mugging...some psycho crack head?”

“Yeah, like that. No clues.”

“You’re not going to make this easy. You never do. Everything those twelve adorable little fingers of yours touch gets more twisted than a tornado.”

“Why,thank you Marty.” Kristen Wyngarde giggled. “What a sweet thing to say.”

Martin Daystrom cleared his throat. “Uh...yeah.”

“And since you’re so sweet,you get to pick the video for tommorow night.”

“Already done. We’ll get to it after I solve your latest little whodunit .”

“Well....maybe.” Kristen chuckled. She shifted her weight in her chair. Her back was starting to ache. The lateral curve in her spine could be a real pain. “I’ll tell you a bit more in study hall.” A soft beep sounded in her ear. “Marty,I’ve got a call on the other line. Study hall, tomorrow?”

“Right. See you then,Kris.”

Kristen switched to the other line.

“Wyngarde Manor. Lady Kristen speaking.” she said in a exaggerated, Monty Python-esque British accent.

“Hey Scope! This is Ace.” chuckled Sara Franklin, “You do that really well.”

“Thanks. What’s up?”

“Know much about Pisces International?”

“Not really. Just common knowledge. I’ve gone by their building quite a few times...and there were some rumors going around at school,but that’s it. Why do you ask?”

“I got a encrypted message from Galahad about them.”

“Gala-Cad?” groaned Kristen. She slipped into Monty Python mode again,”My libido is as the libido of ten,because my heart’s impure.”

“Yeah,more like Don Juan. Anyway...” Ace explained the Pisces/Le Main de la Mer connection and her futile attempt at investigation. “...and I was thinking of maybe letting Ebola have a crack at it,but this is probably beyond even him,then I thought of you.

“If Ebola can’t handle it,what could I...oh,yeah...THAT.”

“Aren’t you feeling well,Kris?”

“No,no...I’m fine...just a little tired...loooooong day at school.”

“If you’re not up to it,I’ll understand. You’ve explained how tiring it is.”

“I’m fine.”said Kristen sternly,”er...thanks for the concern...what’s the address?”

“I sent it before I called.”

“Thanks. You’ll have my report tomorrow.”

“Be looking for it. Night,Scope.”

“Carpe noctum,Ace.”

3.

After she had decoded Ace’s message and gotten herself a snack,Kristen made sure that her seating would be comfortable. An aching back would definitely be counter-productive when she needed to relax.

She entered the address Ace had given her,sat back,took a deep breath and smiled. She had done this many times (the last few for the Crusaders),but it still basically felt the same as when she was a child...on her “flights of imagination”,as her father had called them... when she told stories of seeing things far away. She had called them that herself, for a long time...until she began to talk with others ...who had the same “flights”...then she learned a new name for them. Remote Viewing.

Resting her elbows at her sides,Kristen brought her hands together at eye level...her extra digits in a inverted V...she stared beyond their tips... into the computer screen.

She liked to think of this mental gift as compensation for having been short changed on her physical account. True,her extra digits were fully functional (a great rarity),and she had learned to use them very well indeed,but she often thought the extra fingers made her hands look ugly and the extra toes made it impossible to wear normal shoes. Then there was the 17 degree lateral curvature in her spine and a right leg which required a brace...and even then she dragged it,while using a cane ...plus a generally weak constitution. Most people told her that she was a very pretty girl...and she was,with long dark hair and delicate features...she didn’t often feel that way.

Focus....focus....,she thought,....like Wraith taught you.

He called himself “The Wraith”. One of the many people who frequented the paranormal chat rooms and newsgroups on the net. One of many who listened to her stories of remote viewing. One who was particularly interested in her abillities,especially after learning of her background. He introduced himself as Ian Ross,professor of history at Merton College Oxford(and leader of the Crusaders)...seems her ancestors had a history of the unusual...all she had known about was a history of deformities,most often in females. Ross had given her some very useful tips on focusing her talents,which(to her delight, and his surprise) focused very well through her computer.

The image on the screen blurred...rippled...changed. Although Kristen saw the images in her mind,when she focused in this manner it was like watching them on her computer.

[A room...medium to small size...almost no light,so hard to be sure ...office?...a man is sitting at a desk...dim light before him...books, folders on desk...yes,an office...light grows brighter...not a lamp... some sort of crystal...advanced lighting device?...feel drawn to it...to this room...man’s face is clear now..prematurely balding...large, bulging,watery eyes...almost no chin...raises his very large hands into a position like her hands...no extra fingers,would be freaky if he had any..stares deeply into the crystal which grows brighter...feels like someone else is there..another...mind?...the man’s head snaps up suddenly...he looks around,then back to the crystal...it flares brilliantly.]

The screen blurred...became watery...black...expanded. Kristen felt herself being dragged downward...as though a great hand had grabbed her feet and was pulling her down into a black,fetid bog...the vile,dark water crushing...suffocating...

“UUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!”

Kristen let out a cry of utter revulsion and fear. The images vanished from her mind,and all contact mercifully ceased. She curled up in her chair,shaking uncontrollably and trying to suppress an urge to vomit. She felt filthy...like being psychically dragged through a swamp. It took an exceptional act of will power to unclench her hands and reach up to switch off the now placid screen.

There was a knock at her door. “Kristen! You O.K. in there,sis?

“Yuh...yeah...yeah”, she rasped, ”Just had..a bit of a...shock..”

Peter Wyngarde gave a groaning sigh. “You’re going to fry yourself,if you don’t watch out. Fuses we can replace.”

“I...I’ll be more careful.”,her voice steadied,”Thanks,Pete”

Still trembling,Kristen limped to her bed. She pulled out her flute and attempted to clear away that horrid,slimy feeling in her head with a piece by Hildegard von Bingen. The 12th century nun’s music didn’t completely do the trick,but at least it helped her to relax...so she could think.

“What did I see...feel? That guy at the desk...Ugh!... and I was self-conscious about my inconveniences...he looked like a bloody fish! That...that...thing that...touched me...he was communicating with it through that crystal gizmo...some sort of device..felt like it could see me...knew me...like it was looking right at me the whole time...felt drawn to it, never felt that kind of pull...totally unlike any other viewing,for sure..what did I stumble into? Was it even real? There were some rumors about Pisces at school,and I think I heard someone mention “La Main de la Mer”. Have to check them out. Ace is going to get a mighty strange report tommorow.”

5.

“Hey Andrea! Wait up!”

Andrea Weiss turned to see the small,delicate figure of her friend Kristen emerging from the school’s elevator. Although she could see that Kristen had her hands full,with both an armful of books and her cane, Andrea knew to wait until her very independent friend asked for help. Today,however,Kristen did not need to ask. Andrea could it in her eyes.

“Forgot your backpack?”

“Thanks,Andrea. I was kind of...pre-occupied.”

“Ooooh yeah! Just thinking about one of Langenkamp’s tests gives me chills.”

“It’s not that...er...Andrea,don’t you have a friend who’s really into the various enviromental movements? I think he’s on the west side.”

“Sure. Donny Roeser. He can get a bit...vocal at times,but he’s cool.”

“Ever hear him talk about a group called La Main de la Mer?”

“Hand of the Sea?...yeah...he doesn’t think much of them.”

“Why not?”

“Donny may be a loudmouth,but he’s no terrorist.”

“Terrorist?”

“One of his cousins worked for a company down south. Their emission control standards weren’t exactly the highest...and they started getting these really nice letters calling them ‘matricides’.”

“And this was Le Main de la Mer?”,asked Kristen.

“Donny sure thinks so. There was no evidence though.”

“Anything strange happen?”

“Well,the owner suddenly decided to sell the place and move to Kansas. The new guy comes in and really...cleans house. They’re now considered role models.”

“Was this new owner connected with Pisces International?”

“Not that I know of,but Pisces doesn’t have the most savory reputation either.”

“Yeah,I know.” said Kristen,”There was a rumor going around a few months ago... something about a cult?”

“Apparently that one goes back a long way.” explained Andrea,”Probably comes from the fact that the Hoskins family,who own Pisces,have always been a mysterious,eccentric, and rather shady bunch.”

A bell sounded,signaling the start of the school day

“Well,see you third period,Andrea”

“Thanks,Kris. Ugh...Langenkamp!”

6.

“Kristen!”

“YEEEEEK!”

Marty Daystrom jumped back as his girlfriend gave a startled yelp.

“Jumpy,aren’t we?”

“Marty!...Sorry...I’m feeling a bit...on edge.”

“Dreading the humiliation of having your story solved in record time?”

Kristen smiled,”You wish. Actually,something happened last night...” She explained Sara Franklin’s attempt at at investigating Pisces International,and the frightening results of her own remote viewing. ”...I’ve always felt so in control...something like that just...eeee... to have something look right back at me and then...!”

“That’s exactly why I wouldn’t do it,if I could.” Marty said with a shudder,”I’d be too afraid of getting a bad channel. Funny though... about the guy’s face.”

“Yeah,he looked like a freakin’ fish!”

“You mentioned some of the rumors going around. Did you hear the one about how the Hoskins’ used to...er...how should I put this...keep it in the family.”

Kristen grimaced, ”Inbreeding?”

“Yeah,and they’ve supposedly got a few genetic diseases because of it.”

“Ooooh,let’s change the subject,OK. I take it that you’re ready for tonight?”

“You must stand clear,Ms.Wyngarde,or be trodden underfoot!”

Kristen giggled, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

7.

As Sara read the report that followed Kristen’s typically cheerful greeting,she could definitely see her fellow Crusader’s point. This was WEIRD! But then again,she was no stranger to the strange herself. Some of the stories she could tell would have Kristen wondering,no doubt. “Have to remember to tell her,she thought...but as for now,I’m doing all the research I can(which probably won’t be much),so we’ll have a bit more to work with on Saturday.”

8.

“Sara?”

“Hi,Marty!”

“Wow.”

The two previous times that Marty had seen Sara Franklin,she had been,to put it kindly, a slouch. Her short,auburn hair had been a tangled mess,her battered jeans badly worn at the knees,and her velco- fastened tennis shoes in need of replacement. Today,however...well she still wore tennis shoes...but they looked brand new,and she wore tight designer jeans and a stylish jacket. Her slightly longer hair was neatly styled. It was like looking at a more sophisticated twin.

“Where’s the party,Sara?” grinned Marty.

“Before I came down,I did a little search for coffee houses. There’s a really nice one about five streets away. It’s open mike night too,and as the saying goes”You never know who you might meet”. After we finish up here,I thought we might take in a little culture. I brought some of my poems. They’re not T.S.Eliot,but then, what is? Where’s Kristen?”

“Already inside,and hard at work.”

“Well,let’s give the litttle book worm a hand.” ----------

“Find anything,Kris?”

“What’s with the clothes,Ace? Lookin’good!”

“Coffee house. After we’re done. Interested?”

“Maybe. I haven’t found much of anything. Where did I put that?” Kristen looked through the stack of books and papers on the desk, ”Oh,yeah. Pisces International,founded as Pisces Inc. in 1929 by Douglas Hoskins,a prominent Boston financier. Became Pisces International in 1970,blah,blah blah. Common knowledge!”

“Same here...Boston?...I thought they were from Glouscester. “Not from I could find. Hoskins may have had some family there.”

“From an old part of Glouscester...Innsport?”

“You mean Innsmouth? Most people call it “Old Town” now. There’s not much left.”

“Burned out,didn’t it?”

“Yeah,in 192...8,I think. They just built over it. I’ve heard something about ruins under the streets,like the Seattle Underground.”

“Any connection with La Main de la Mer? Anything on them?”

“Apart from the fact that they’re from Nova Scotia? Zeee-ro.”

“I’d really like to know where Galahad’s contact got his information”,grumbled Sara, “I wish he was here right now.”

“I assume you mean the contact,not Galahad!”,snickered Kristen.

“Are you two sure this Galahad character is on the level?”,asked Marty, “I mean,he calls himself “Galahad” but acts like Don Juan. Is that the only misleading thing about him?”

“Like maybe most of his bragging?” chuckled Sara.

“Like maybe his lead on Pisces? Maybe he meant to lead you into this?”

“Galahad? Setting us up?” answered Sara incredulously ”No,no,no. He’s got a massive ego problem,but he’s basically a good person. Very loyal.”

“That’s why I love doing research with you,Marty.” smiled Kristen “You’re so paranoid. Really makes me think.”

“If someone is really after you,is it paranoia?” said Marty with a sly grin, ”And while you think about that,there’s something I want to check.”

“What?”

“Remember that rumor about inbreeding? I’m going to see if there’s something to it.”

“By yourself?”

“I know how you two can talk.” ---------

“ULP!”

Sara was about to ask Kristen if she had found anything,but her friend’s loud gulp was all the answer she needed.

“What is it?”

Kristen turned the book she had been reading to face Sara and pointed to an old,rather grainy photograph. “That’s it! That’s like the face I saw...in the viewing!”

At first glance,Sara would have thought that the subject of the photo,whom the caption identified as Jeremy Marsh,had a bad thyroid problem. To say his large,watery eyes were bulging was an understatement. “Ugh!Goiter City!”,she thought,but instead of any bulges in the neck area,there was what appeared to be a premature wrinkling of the skin. The effect of the bulging eyes was enhanced by a badly receded hairline. An almost non- existent chin completed the disturbingly fishy look.

“I see what you mean,Kris. Eeeew! Think you saw this guy’s descendant?”

“Probably. What’s it say about him?”

Sara scanned over the brief bio, ”Jeremy Marsh,1890-1928. Head of Marsh Enterprises some sort of shipping firm. Grandson of Captain Obed Marsh of Innsmouth,Mass,who founded the company. Died in the fire that destroyed most of Innsmouth. Survived by widow,Eliza. No mention of any kids,but it could be some genetic diease that affects the whole family. Didn’t you mention something about that?”

“Yeah. That’s what Marty’s looking into.”

“Oh,right! While we set here and talk too much.”

Kristen turned the book to face her again. She looked at the photo of Jeremy Marsh,and began to shudder as the memories came flooding back. She pushed the book away,her delicate features contorted with disgust and fear. “Uuunnnhhhh!”

“Kris?”

“I’m sorry,Ace. It’s...it’s just...”

“It’s alright,I understand. Something like that takes a long time to get over,if ever. I know,believe me,I know!”

“You...know? What happened?”

Sara took a deep breath. “...about...7...yeah,7 years ago...I was 14...my foster mom’s brother,Tony,had a place on the edge of Salem...a big,really old,drafty colonial job...right next to a graveyard,believe it or not,which was as old,if not older,than the house...at the rear of the place,top floor,was this room that looked like it was done in the late 60’s, because it’s hard to imagine that the decorator wasn’t on something. It was bright,bright purple and turquoise. That alone would give you the creeps,but it was also freezing in there...I mean,houses like that are usually drafty,but this...Eeeeeeww!”

“I know of a few places like that,but they usually don’t have the cold spots and bad color schemes together. That’s REALLY scary!”

Sara chuckled, “The horror! Know if any of those decorators were on anything? We never did find out much about that room. It was just like that when Tony got the place,and even he didn’t like to go in there... used it for storage. I,being the brat that I still am,used to really taunt the other kids in the ‘hood...called ‘em chicken ‘cause they go up there with me...of course,I was bluffing. I was scared of it myself...I finally got this one kid,Eric,so mad that he called my bluff,and being a bit more scared of being labeled a lying coward, than I was of that stupid room,off we went...BIG MISTAKE...when we got up there,I started bragging about how unafraid I was,mainly because I was very afraid...like I’ve said,it was freezing...in July...and there was a...thick atmosphere,that’s the only way to put it...so I,to mask my fear,start shooting the bull...I demanded that whatever was in there show itself to Eric,like I claimed it did with me...next thing I know,I’m on the floor with Eric holding me down and yelling “Sara! Sara! Snap out of it!”...it took quite a while for him to calm down enough to say what had happened...good thing Tony was at the store.

“I’ll say! What happened?”

“When I demanded that “whatever” show itself...Eric said that I changed...like he could see another face within mine...my eyes had this...how did he put it...combination of pain,anger and pure evil...he could feel the evil...then,I had some kid of fit...that’s why he was holding me down.”

“And you don’t remember any of that?”

“Not a thing. I didn’t feel anything enter me...or I don’t remember it...I just know that I never felt more scared when Eric told me what had happened. It took quite awhile to get over that,so I know where you’re coming from with Old Fish-Eyes.”

“Is that house still there?”

“Yeah. Tony sold it about a year later. I think some lawyer’s got it now”

“Just like I thought! Talk,talk,talk!”,interrupted Marty,with a grin.

“Hi stranger! How are things at the shallow end of the gene pool?”,asked Sara,with a bigger grin.

“I hope you’re asking if I found anything on the inbreeding angle. I didn’t,but I did find a link between Pisces and Glouscester,or more specifically,Innsmouth.”

“What?”

“Douglas Hoskins,the founder of Pisces,married a woman from Innsmouth.

“I missed that? I must be more messed up than I thought.”,moaned Kristen.

“In 1932,Hoskins married Eliza Marsh.” said Marty,consulting his notes, “widow of Jeremy Marsh,prominent Glouscester shipping agent. Jeremy died in...”

“1928. In the Innsmouth fire.”

“Yeah. How did you...”

“We’re WAY ahead of you there,Marty.”,said Sara,handing him the book with the relevant details.

“Good work,ladies! I was just kidding about the talk-too-much thing.”

“Yeah,right!”,scoffed Sara.

“Alright. Let’s finish up,and then get some caffeine!” cheered Kristen.

9.

“For moans will have grown sphere-music Or ever your race be run! And all’s well that ends well, Whirl,and follow the sun!”

Sara Franklin took a bow as the coffee house’s small audience applauded. Her very theatrical performance of Tennyson’s “The Dreamer” was always a crowd pleaser. The great Victorian poet’s last work had a wild,slightly psychotic quality that was accentuated by her highly dramatic presentation,and she loved it.

“That was fantastic!”,praised Marty,as Sara returned to their table.”I wish we had you in English class.”

“Thanks. You should hear what I do with T.S.Eliot.”

“I know what you can do with Eliot.”,grinned Kristen,”You sent me a tape of your performance of “The Wasteland”. Remember?”

“I’ve got to hear that!”

“You may not want to listen to it before going to bed”,laughed Kristen,”She gets downright scary at times.” She turned to Sara. “Didn’t you say some of the audience got kind of freaked out?”

“Yeah.” Sara’s eyes took on a wild,manic look. She stared straight at Marty and lifted her outstretched palm to his face. “I will show you you fear in a hand full of dust.”,she said in a hollow,rasping voice. She blew across her palm.

“I love it!”

“Have you ever thought of doing that to music,Sara? My brother Peter is pretty good on the synthesizer. I bet he could compose something cool for it.”

“Sounds like a good idea,Kris. Mention it to him. Would either of you like another brew?”

“Sure. Two Highlander Grogs.” ---------------------

Sara returned with the coffee just as the next act came to the mike. The act who should have come next was evidently having some rather bad luck with his equipment. Sara wasn’t about to complain. That guy looked like a major geek,but THIS guy was fine stuff. She could easily him imagine playing Robin Hood,or any other romantic swashbuckler. Tall, athletic and imposing,he could read Sara poetry anyday,especially with that voice.

Sara sighed. Poe’s “The Conquerer Worm” has always been a favorite. She’d even done it a few times at the Campus Coffee House in Salem. She and her roomate,Natalie, had done a few special effects,such as a blackout at the “Out are the lights! Out all!” line. Quite cool in her opinion,but nothing like HIS version. Have to get his number.

His next number was Poe’s “The Raven”,which had a weird place in Sara’s heart. Her middle name was Lenore,like the lost love in the poem, and she liked to image it saying “Sara Lenore”. Morbid,but romantic.

After another Poe number,he finished with Tennyson’s “Crossing the Bar”. Usually Sara loved this one,but now something was giving her chills,and not the romantic kind. He stared straight at their table,his very bright eyes almost manic. Sara couldn’t exactly describe this feeling,but she could tell Kristen and Marty were feeling it too. Was this what Eric felt in the purple room all those years ago? Evil? No...more like something dirty creeping all over you,and into the back of your mind.

“I hope to see my Pilot face to face when I have crossed the bar”

The lights went out.

Amid the mild commotion Kristen could hear the shop owner yell,

“Dwayne!”

“Don’t look at me!”,yelled the geeky guy who was trying to fix his sound equipment.

“I can’t look at you. I can’t even see you!

The guy at the table next to Sara’s stood up and produced his lighter. Several people applauded.

“Heeeey! Great concert,dude!”,the lighter guy laughed.

The girl behind the counter,who had found a flashlight, threw Lighter Guy a candle and went to check the breakers. The shop owner had a word with Dwayne.

Sara looked around. The intriguing,unnerving poet had returned to his table and was talking with a female friend. He seemed different,nothing strange about him.

The lights came on a few seconds later.

“Ah-ha! Look at that.”,growled the owner,pointing to the overloaded outlet near Dwayne’s speakers.

“Er..Sara,it’s time to go. My dad gave me a cerfew. As always.”,said Kristen.

“Oh...sure,sure.”muttered Sara,who was still staring at the intriguing stranger. On her way out,she nearly ran into the door while looking back.

10

[Ace] Alright! Who out there is the most P.O.’ed ?

AAAAAAHHHHH! This is going to feel GOOD! After the weirdness of the past few days,Sara Franklin was glad to be getting back to something normal,like her chat room “Franklin’s Tower”. She had taken the name of the bi-weekly event(and her web site) from the classic song by the Grateful Dead. The image of a bell ringing for those lost in the darkness were quite appropriate for someone who liked to bring the darkness to light. The Tower(as it was usually called) had become quite poular as a sounding board for the local high school and college students,and Sara hoped they had a lot to sound off about tonight. Just the thing...a good gripe fest.

[nightrunner] Hi Ace. I’m extremely P.O.’ed !

[Ace] Welcome Brother.

[Is] P.O.’ed and reporting for duty,Ma’am.

[PollyD.> Bon jour. Polly D’Actile here.

[Deacon] I finally made it to one of these. Hope it’s as good as everyone says.

[Ace> Ah,a new convert!Your brethren welcome you.

[Dippel] Cool! New blood.

[Bedpost] Alright! Let’s make some ears bleed,not just burn,BLEED.

[ETI] Beep.Beep.

Great! A lot of the regular crowd,and a newbie...newbies are fun...and Kristen too...Polly D’Actile/polydactyl...cute,Kris,cute...let’s see,I bet the first to go will be...Is...as usual...

[Is] Anybody else fed up with this stupid SPU strike?

[Bedpost] Yeah! My boss is having fits. They deliver a lot of our stuff.

[Ace> Same here. I’ve heard the same thing all over.

[PollyD] If you think it’s bad there,try Boston. You know,these strikes always remind me of terrorists demanding ransom, “Pay us,or we’ll hurt a lot of innocents”

[nightrunner] Like they care.

[Dippel] Unions represent kindness to those who deserve it,not love wasted on ingrates Unions represent vengeance,not turning the other cheek Unions represent responsibility to the responsible,not concern for parasites

[ETI] Nasty Wasty,but oh-so-true!

[nightrunner} Don’t they also represent indulgence,not abstinence?

[Dippel] Yeah. That’s the first rule.

[Is] What are you quoting? I don’t get it.

[Dippel] The Unionist Handbook,by Anton Szandor LaVey. He founded the modern union in 1966. He wrote the book three years later,although most people call it by its more common name. The Satanic Bible.

[Is] Good one!

[Bedpost> Dippel,my man,I hereby bestow upon you the Bedpost Award for Brains.

[Dippel] My man? You seem to have forgotten something. Thanks though!

[Bedpost] Sorry sistah!

[Deacon] Yay Dippel! This IS every bit as good as I’ve heard. I agree with you people 100%. Unions were a great idea at first(in the mid 1800’s),but now they’ve just become tools of pure greed. Could you imagine if doctors went on strike? I used to have some severe mental problems,and if I hadn’t gotten treatment at the right time...

[Ace] I’ve had some really bad psych problems myself,so I can completely see your point. Even more so actually,since mine were rather rare.

[Deacon] Mine were quite rare. Multiple Personality Disorder. I only had one alternate,but that was more than enough.

[nightrunner] I’ve known a few people who seemed to have MPD,but they were really just two-faced. Most of them are in office now.

[ETI] Beep!

[Ace] I’ll second that beep,ETI. Anyway,this is really amazing,Deacon. I had MPD as well,and like you,I had an alternate that was a nighmare. I really don’t like to talk about her.

[Deacon] Bet she was nothing compared to mine. A smart- mouthed ,violent,little psycho named Danielle,or Dani,as she liked to be called. She put several of my friends in the hospital.

“Huh?”

Sara nearly choked on the sandwich she was munching. Danielle... Dani?...that had been the name of HER alternate personality. A violent, psychotic embodiment of rage at her childhood abuse,who could out-mouth a certain web-spinning superhero. Her crowning achievement had been a wild joy-ride through downtown Salem. The resulting crash had sent everyone in the car(and a few bystanders)to the ER,and she herself had suffered a 70% hearing loss from the explosion. Sara had heard of some wild coincidences before,but this was too much and too close to home.

[Ace] No. Mine was nothing compared to Dani.

Sara didn’t know how long had taken her to type that little bit. The guests must be wondering what’s going on...Come on,Sara...it probably is some weird coincidence...like that book that practically foretold the Titanic sinking...what was called...oh,yeah...Futility. Get A Grip!

[Dippel] Hey,Ace!

[Bedpost] You’re not on strike,are you?

[Ace] Sorry,my brethren. I just got a little distracted.

Once she had gotten herself staightened out,Sara finished the session with her usual style. Things had gone quite well after that one shock. She was sorry it was over,but also somewhat relieved.

[Ace] Any visionary insights to bring these revelations to a close?

[Dippel] Speak your mind. You’ll feel better.

[Is] The only good Union won the American Civil War.

[ETI] BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

[Deacon] I’d like to thank all of you for a totally cool time. Ace,you’re the greatest. It’s nice to meet someone who understands. What’s your sign? I’m a Pisces.

For the second time,Sara was almost in grave need of the Hiemlich maneuver. Pisces! Hold on...don’t be so paranoid...

[Ace] You’re welcome,Deacon. Always glad to win new converts

[Deacon] You’ve certainly got one here. This has got me feeling so good that I don’t painting that room in back of my house. I’m doing it in a bright purple and turquoise. Bye. -------------

As soon as the session ended,Kristen Wyngarde’s phone rang.

“Lady Sara?” ,asked Kristen in her Monty Python accent.

“Expecting me,eh? What did you make of that “Deacon” character?

“Well,you certainly made something of her MPD experience. You were silent for over two minutes.

“It’s not something I really like to talk about,but her experience was exactly like mine.I had a holy terror of an alter called Dani,just like she claimed to.

“I never knew that.”

“Like I said,having something like that inside me is not something I like to talk about. Did you catch the “What’s your sign?” and the bit about painting?”

“Yes,and I think I know where the name “Deacon” came from. Ever hear of Deacon Brodie?

“Don’t think so.”

“He lived in Edinburgh,around 1825. By day,a respected and well loved pillar of the community,by night a vicious,murdering outlaw. He inspired ‘Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde’.”

“Clever. Of course,they would have to be clever if they hacked into my medical records. I’m going to see if Galahad has gotten anything interesting.”

“I’d be really suprised if he hasn’t. I don’t mind telling you,Ace,I’m scared. I mean they knew about the turquoise room! They had to be at the library!”

Sara could hear the tension rising in Kristen’s voice. “Easy now.”

“Sara,you didn’t have something grab you by the mind and pull you into...Eeeewww!”

“Sorry! I’ll tell you when I hear from Galahad”

“Can’t say I’ll be looking forward to it.”

11.

Sara clicked on the attached file. A window opened with the words “Congratulations,you have fulfilled your quest” in a blood-red medieval looking script. The picture changed to that of an ancient wall,maybe that of a castle. In the center was an ornate silver chalice. A figure in armor was sprawled before it. As the image of the chalice grew brighter,an animated hand reached down and lifted the cup out of sight. The picture vanished,to be replaced with the same blood-red script reading:

“In the very instant of Galahad’s death,Bors and Perceval witnessed a great wonder. They saw a disembodied hand come down from the sky and take the vessel up into heaven. Since that time,no man has ever dared say he saw the Holy Grail”

“Don’t you just hate it when people desecrate the classics?”,sneered Sara.

“Especially by using them as death threats!”,answered Kristen,”He’s right,Sara. We should leave it alone. I never want to hear about Pisces again.”

“You’re probably right...”

12.

“Ready for Friday night,Sara?

“You know it! Who’d you say was the opening act?”

“They’re called the Death Goblins...from Denver,I think. They call themselves “Wagnerian Metal”. I heard they use a lot of Norse imagery in their act.”

“Cool. They can serve mead,instead of beer.”

“Rock and roll Valhalla!”

Brian Walters flipped the OPEN sign over to CLOSED,and opened the door for Sara.

“Ladies first.”

“If there were any around.”,grinned Sara.

She turned back to the darkened interior of the store. “We’re going,Jake!”,she called to the owner of Salem Computers,who was still working at the back. She said goodnight to Brian and headed for her car. Hmm...she needed to hit the supermarket,and then home to do a bit of research into Pisces/Le Main de la Mer. She and Kristen had spent an hour debating that after getting Galahad’s message. The threatening program was the last straw for Kristen,who,after her remote viewing nightmare and the chat room episode,had had enough. Sara had never seen the normally spunky teenager so upset,but then as Kristen had said,she’d never been “grabbed by the mind and pulled into...eeewwww”,either. ----------

I hope Natalie knows what this stuff is for,Sara thought as she walked out of the market. She hadn’t even heard of three of the items,or thought that a market in Salem would have them...Boston,or Lynn,maybe... but then,Salem was a tourist trap...lots of unusual stuff. Her roomate had become quite fond of the exotic cooking sites on the Net...sometimes too fond,she thought. Her stomach agreed.

She opened the car door.

“EEEEEEWWWWWW”

Sara staggered back,her eyes already watering from the unbelievable stench that filled the inside of the car. The groceries hit the ground, not that she noticed. She was too busy feeling ill. Good grief! What a stink! Did some sick joker dump three day old roadkill in the back seat? No,the doors were locked...doesn’t smell like roadkill anyway...more like like...ack...don’t know anything that smells that bad. She picked up the spilled food,and walked slowly around the car. Nothing inside that she could see. Holding her breath,she threw open the other door and waited for a fortuitous wind to clear away the worst of it. Ugh...still pretty bad...have to get something.

After taking care to see that the car was securely locked,Sara headed back toward the market.

She froze.

Standing by the entrance was a hunched,stocky figure in a ragged overcoat,its large, bulging,watery eyes staring at her.

She turned.

Another figure,dressed like a Man in Black from an alien conspiracy movie,was leaning against the car next to hers. It lit a pipe with its abnormally large hands,and started to walk towards her.

She ran.

Heaving the grocery bag at the feet of the figure by the door,Sara bolted across the parking lot and into a nearby alley. Unless things had changed very recently,her childhood escape route/hiding place was there. A narrow passage between two old buildings,it would get her to the next block unseen.

Rats!

Another figure,like the one at the market entrance,was crouched about three feet from the passage. Sara quickly ducked behind a dumpster. Had it seen her? How’d it know about the passage anyway? Maybe it didn’t... just waiting to cut me off in the alley...what now...let’s see,this alley leads to...yeah,I can circle back to my car. She heard the man by the passage coming her way,walking slowly at first then... Sara pressed herself into the narrow space between the dumpster and the building as the figure landed on all fours less than six feet from her. It looked around,then diappeared around the corner with two powerful leaps. Fighting a sense of revulsion at the sight of the frog/man,Sara crept from her hiding place and cautiously peered around the corner. Nothing ...and no one was coming from the other side of the market...guess the other two were counting on Froggy to get me...I’d better get lost before he reports to them. She took a deep breath and sprinted down the alley. ---------------------

At Salem Common she turned west,beginning to circle back to the market.

Whoa!

A dark figure stood on the corner. There was nothing obviously wrong, but Sara was taking no chances. She turned and entered the park. Oh yeah,a bench...need to rest a bit...hard,but it’ll do...no sign of that guy on the corner...guess it was nothing.

“Yeah. Nothing. Like you.”

What?!

Sara almost jumped from the bench. She spun around. There was no one.

“Over here.”

A row of hedges created a zone of shadow to her left.

Sara quickly tried to get a grip on her nerves. “Steady Sara...don’t go freaking yourself out...I know that sounded like your own voice,but it’s just nerves...OK!” She suddenly realized that she’d been talking out loud. “Oh great!”

She took a quick look around,then left the park.

“Wait Sara. Don’t go. You need me.” ------------------------

Cool,singing to yourself really does help the nerves...nice to know some cliches work... and speaking of cliches,there’s one on the corner. The Big Black Car.

Sara froze,then backed up a few steps. She was half expecting the Man in Black and Froggy to emerge from the back seat. Phew! It’s moving on...another one?...is there a funereal around here?

A van,painted a bright puke green and yellow with orange highlights, followed the second black car.

A funereal for this guy’s taste,perhaps? Arrgh...is he color blind,or partaking of some rather non-kosher substances? I thought purple and turquoise was bad.

“Miss Franklin.”

She turned left to see MIB and the guy in the ragged coat quickly approaching.

“Let it go,Miss Franklin.”,said Ragged Coat,loudly

Sara whirled,and followed her instincts.

“You on crack or something?”,yelled the driver of the car that barely missed her as she tore across the street and back through the park. She remembered another of her childhood hiding places...Yeah,I know that one’s still there...thank goodness for the preservation of historic buildings...it’s still there,let’s hope Froggy isn’t. ------------------

Great! No one around!

Sara cautiously squeezed herself into the narrow space between the colonial townhouse and its more recent neighbor. There! Let Froggy and friends get through that. Her 5’3”,115 pound frame could fit quite easily,but not them...and if they came through the much wider front,she would just slip back out.

She sat down in the wider space beyond. This really brought back the memories...her “perfect spot” as a kid...a narrow 2 foot space leading to an 8 by 10 foot space between the ancient townhouse and the brownstone where a few of her friends had lived. A great place to escape the turmoil...the pain at home...and on a night like this,with the streetlights and the bright moon overhead,along with a few lights from the aging brownstone...it looked...

“Marvelous!”,she said in a very posh voice.

Few things had changed...even the fact that she was still running... only now it was from a corporation run by who-knows-what,instead of belt buckles,coat hangers,fists,and a steady stream of...Words. She stood for a few minutes,remembering.

Uh oh! Company’s coming!

At the sound of a van’s door opening,Sara flattened herself against the wall beside the narrow passage. At least one person got out. He walked slowly to the back of the townhouse,and leaned on the wall. A very strong smell of tobacco filled the air. The Man in Black? Had they been able to follow? They could have known about this place...unless ...that wierd feeling at the coffee house...oh man...telepathy?...some kind of mind scan?

After several minutes of polluting the air,the figure moved. Stood directly in front of the passage. Sara,much to her embarrassment,felt all the cliche symptoms of fear as the shadow crept in. He moved on, slowly.

Whew!

“My,my,aren’t we brave?”

Sara looked up. Who spoke?

“But then,I understand. Quite well.”,said the voice from the darkness of the stairs to the basement of the brownstone. Was that an apartment now? Some homeless person?

“Yeah,I was being followed by...some thugs.”

“No,I mean I understand you quite well.”

“How? I used to hang around here as a kid,about 10 years ago. You remember me from then? My name’s...”

“Sara Franklin. Barney Franklin’s girl.”

“Yeah...that’s...that’s right.”

“He was a hard man. Didn’t you have a brother? Denny? Donny?”

“Danny...Daniel...”,Sara half whispered.”He..he...died.”

“That was so sad. I helped you through it. Remember?

“Lori? I thought you moved to...”

“Nah,I helped you more than she ever could. I stood up for you when you were too weak to stand up for yourself. Like you’re too weak now.

“I’m...not...weak.” ,growled Sara.

“Yeah right. You’re a regular Samson...and you don’t even need to look for a jaw bone,you can use your own. Ha ha.”

“Who...who are you?”

“Your friend. Your strength...”

Sara started down the stairs.

“...Your soul.”

She staggered back.

“You’re...not...real!”

Sara ran...from the place that had been her “Special Spot” in childhood...from the thing that reached out from the darkness...from the sight...of her own face. ---

The House of Seven Gables?

Sara did not realize how far she had run,until she turned and saw Nathaniel Hawthorne’s famous setting behind her. The famed writer’s birthplace looked eerie by day,and three times as eerie by moonlight. A great sight to greet someone who had just had the crap scared out of her. She walked on a little further,and collapsed onto a bench at the nearby Hawthorne Cove Marina.

She tried to make herself focus. Think...come on,think...no...don’t wanna think...too tired to think...gotta think...gotta think...got to think. Focus. That’s it,Sara...Focus. Oh man...back at the brownstone ...that was my face,or...or Danielle’s. Telepathy...must have been... some sort of telepathic illusion...either that,or...or...NO! Danielle is GONE! She’s been gone for three years. My personality was reintegrated three years ago...though some said she reintegrated too easily,that my case was unusual... She’s not coming back ...she’s not...she’s...she’s ...always there. Inside. Yes,inside...where she belongs,and where she’s going to stay. That’s it. I’ve had enough. Pisces can keep their stinking secrets...it’s not worth losing...my mind.

She walked over to the docks,and stood for a long time,just watching the waves. It was a wonderful autumn night. Warm,with a great breeze. Not too many leaves down yet. She took a very deep breath. That’s it,guys...you win.

Splash.

The sound came from the very end of the dock. Had somebody fallen in? She hadn’t seen anyone out there,but then she hadn’t been in much of a shape to notice. She moved closer. A large man was struggling to pull himself back onto the dock from which he had fallen. She started out onto the dock,then froze. This felt wrong. Her apprehensions were confirmed a few seconds later when the man pulled himself out of the water with a superhuman heave. He crouched on all fours,his bulging, watery eyes fixed on her.

Froggy.

Sara turned to see the Man in Black and Ragged Coat approaching. She walked toward them,arms raised.

“All right guys. I give. I know when I’m beaten.”

“Sheeesh,what a wimp!”,sneered a figure that stepped out from behind Ragged Coat’s impressive bulk. Sara winced at the sight of another version of herself. The alter ego wore dark,Gothic clothes and carried a length of pipe. Blood dripped from the safety pins that were brutally inserted into her ear lobes.

Danielle.

“No! Stop it! QUIT SCREWING WITH MY HEAD!”

“Don’t let them screw with your head. I wouldn’t!”,hissed Danielle as she walked toward Sara. “But then,without me there not much to screw with. Ha ha!”

“No! You’re not real!”,shouted Sara as she backed away. She stopped when she saw a shadow fall over her. Froggy was right behind.

Danielle’s eyes stared into Sara’s. She smiled as she caressed Sara’s cheek. “We can beat them,Sara. I am your strength. Together,Sara. Together. I’m your strength,your soul...”

“MY CRAP!”

Sara spat into the eyes of Danielle’s mocking image,which vanished. She turned to the two Pisces goons before her. “Listen. You can keep your stinking secrets. I GIVE UP!” She fell to her knees. “YOU WIN! YOU WIN!”

“So do you,Miss Franklin.”,said Ragged Coat. “So do you.”

“As they say,the only way to win is not to play.”,chuckled the Man in Black.

Sara looked up and saw the two goons walking swiftly away. A splash from behind told her that Froggy had also departed. She staggered back to the bench and fell in a heap. ---------------------

“AAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

“Take it easy,young lady. Easy!

What? A cop?

“You get a hold of some bad stuff?”

Oh man...must have fallen asleep on the stupid bench...might as well make this night as bad as possible...night?...aaah...it’s almost morning ...great...add insult to injury,then a pinch more injury... well,let’s see how bad things can get...

“Officer,I can explain...”

13.

14.

“Jeremy...er,Mr.Hoskins,are you busy?”

“Ah,Marsh. Come in,come in. Have a seat.”

“Thank you,sir.”

The head of Pisces International returned to his desk and picked up a folder.

“I read your report,Marsh. Good work.

“You don’t see any further problems,sir?”,asked the man in black.

“No,but I may see a future benefit.”

“Sir?”

“Miss Wyngarde. She is a most gifted young lady. Someone to have on our side.”

“Ah,yes...but she would never work with us,at least not knowingly.”

“Exactly.”

“You have a plan,sir?”

“I want you to keep an eye on her. The others as well.”

“That’s all?”

“For now,Marsh. For now.

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