Windowknocker's 'Dark Testament' 3

[Druidess]

+++CHAPTER 3+++

“Ooooh... Now this is innnn-terrresting!" Mideon cooed at his jar.

The Undertaker of this modern era, this time, this year, and the ruler of the Ministry of Darkness, sits in quiet, still contemplation when his loyal minion pulled his attention away from the jar he clung tight and its relic eye floating in full, marvelous wonder.

Undertaker: "You see something, Mideon?"

Mideon: "Yesss, master."

Undertaker: "Tell me what you see."

Mideon: "Lots of things... a shadow I see... and a black bird... an eclipse shatters as though it were plate glass. A pig and a black widow spider. I also see some blood... and fangs.

Undertaker: "Your skills are improving, Mideon. I am pleased. Can you tell me more?"

Mideon: "Thank you. Lemme ask him. Do YOU see anything else? *Talking to the eye* Hmmmm, they are strong with your power, my master. Quite powerful, but there is a distortion. I can't get a clear view on how strong."

Undertaker: "It is alright... your power is still growing and needs to be flexed. Nurture it well and if you see anything else, tell me. I want to see your progress."

Mideon: "Anything O’ Great one!"

Gangrel, the head of the Brood however, overhears the blood and fangs part. His senses --and eyebrows-- cued with alarm. Christian is immediate:

Christian: "You think it can be an opposing clan?"

Gangrel: "Perhaps... perhaps not... but I have a hunch on who."

Christian: "Who?"

Gangrel offered a rather sarcastic and yet toothy grin, "It is a long story. I would go and check if it were true, but the force that surrounds him may just be too much.”

Christian: "I will go with you..."

Gangrel: "You are still a fledgling, my apprentice. I recommend against it, but it ’would’ give you experience if it ‘did’ turn ugly. Note this much, if it is, this is no ordinary creature of darkness."

1

Meanwhile, having faced the demon, Kary ....



"You okay?" Mankind saw to Nyteshade first, Socko still on his hand, "Ever since Uncle Paul and Mr. Slayer have been around there have been demons like that walking around all over the place!"

“Mean and ugly too!" The sock puppet chirped.

Mankind put his hand down, "Almost everyone on the Occult and Millennia Corp. are like that. I'm beginning to worry. You guys have any connection to Undertaker or Kane?"

"Um...Hey, I'm just a fan." Nyteshade looks at the floor quietly, "Who likes the...unusual."

She searched her pockets and finds a pink lolly, unwraps it and quietly pops it in her mouth.

"I think I'm okay." Syn gives a blinding smile and puts her sword away. Where she should have been burned, there's nothing but pink skin, "Whooooo–weeee!" She tossed her head back and forth, "Everyone else have all their fingers and toes?"

Yeah, I got the fingers and toes." Nyteshade removed the sucker. "But I lost all my God damned daggers!"

"I'm fine." Laruna began, "...Course now that my heart has climbed back down to where it should be. I wish I had my sword with me now, but it got confiscated at Prestwick Airport. The Guard said I was lucky I didn't get arrested."

She shrugged then washed a glance over the surrounding walls, "I think I saw one of your daggers hit that wall over there....some —Err!" Luruna tugged it from the paneling, " —where! Here. I think we need to get out of here before either he comes back, or people start to ask awkward questions."

Mankind thinks for a few moments...

"You know, Kane and I usually don't get along too well... buuut... since you know about what's going on, I think I ‘might’ be able to introduce you two if I can get past the Corporate Cronies. Follow me! I got an idea!!! He's usually with Chyna these days!"

A few twists and turns of leading the girls down the corridors, they come up upon the dressing room of WWF’s ‘Ninth wonder of the world’. Mankind puts his good ear to the door and smirks, his front teeth missing.

"Okay, here's the plan ... I'll sneak Chyna away while you all hide under the table! Kane's inside, I'm pretty sure." Mankind says gleefully. Unfortunately, Mankind was too loud and Chyna opens the door.

“What the — !?!?! YOU!"

"Uhm... SURPRISE?!"

Mankind smooches Chyna and runs away prompting the muscular female warrior to dart off after him hot on his heels. Kane lumbers to the doorway, watching the whole fracas until he jerks his head in the direction of the ladies. His pale, blue eye looks them over as he stands there, his expression intangible.

Syn gulped, "Umm..Whoa. He is a BIG fella, ain't he?" She tried to smirk, waving at the Big Red Machine and pointedly looking him over; the type of looking over that would make anyone either uncomfortable or embarrassed.

Laruna violently blushed, whilst gasping for air at the same time "Erm....ah....mmmmm... er....... Hello, Kane ... and how are you on this fine evening?" She tried to smile as sweetly. A crude effort.

Nyteshade, on the other hand, was much more amused by Mankind and his sprint away from Chyna and she laughs quietly, "Well I ..um, hope she doesn't hurt him ‘too’] much. He was only trying to hel —" She blinked finally turning to face the door and ended up cranking her neck to look up at Kane's face, "Could we please talk to you? I think there's something you should know."

Kane tilted his head at the trio. He returned to the dressing room and came out with the microphone needed for his voice box.

"Are-you-those-he-senttt?"

Seeing their confused faces, he continued.

"You-have-seen-themm... You-know-who-they-areeee"

+++CHAPTER 4+++

Clutching the eyeball close to his chest, Mideon frantically tugged absentmindedly sage his hair once more. There was only more nervousness and frustration to be found in his delirium. His Lord’s Darkest Father had called for him ..asked SPECIFICALLY for him. ...For him! Mideon mumbled half incoherent, half still in shock.

“The father?! Wanting me? Needing me?!"

This was something unimaginable for the fledgling disciple and far exceeding any reality he could have imagined for himself, and yet a certainty it was as he neared the large wooden portal that momentarily separated him from his god.

Mideon hugged his jar and closed his eyes. In the hesitation, real human fear registered and for just a moment it projected a speedy illusion in his mind in which the door was gapping, rich with plentiful, sinister, saliva-rich, teeth.

"It's a honor." He encouraged himself. "A great honor.."

He reached out for this ...this gateway. Wavering ... reading what he felt. The challenge was there, clear and ringing. Twitching chords of fear and pouring sweat.

"Come in, Mideon." A voice boomed from the other side and for a moment, even echoed. "...Come inside."

(A tug of the hair again) "Yyyes..Yes, My god."

Mideon turned about, his eyes rushing to pick out the contents of the room. It was a literal playground of interminable shadows and evil molder. Burning torches hugged within the twisted and putrid faces of stone goblins. From somewhere else --From where?-- a ancient scream haunted the dark around the minion and echoed in a aging skeleton chained in cuffs that had long since turned to rust. Somehow, woven through and through in dusty, dirty cobwebs, the bones still cried out.

"Mideon.” The voice calling again from the dankest corner of the chamber was not hostile nor threatening. Passed a flickering basin of fire, only when Mideon dared to step closer did those flames lick their golden glint in two studious eyes watching him.

His eyes finally adjusting to the dim, undecided lighting, Mideon’s stare ran the length of the dark father's body. The master was seated and so still that the rise and fall of his chest was barely discernable. Yet a quivering in the air around him was not as resigned or passive; the very currents blazed with furious hatred that betrayed the gentle calm whenever he spoke. The figure rose.

"No, no ...Get up." Father Aristedt demanded of Mideon who had quickly fallen to his knees. "I'm not interested in your idle worship." He grinned. "I'm interested in what your ‘friend’ --He looked at the jarred eyeball-- Is showing you."

"They were only meer shadows, Master. Nothing clear."

"Clearness is not a issue for me ...and it won't be for you either. Only the human simpletons look for reason & clarity. We read the unknown, the darkness. Now then, tell me what you saw."

Mideon gazed at his jar. The eyeball swimming inside, "I seen a raven...a shadow, a — "

"Never mind all that."

"They're not important, master?"

"Important?” Aristedt spoke the word as though it were strange. “Nuisances we will dispense. Gangrel informed me that you saw fangs and blood. Where did you see them?"

“The vision didn't show.”

“Then perhaps you show try to consult your .. ‘thing’ again now shouldn't you?"

Mideon trembled instantly, "Yyyes..Yes..Of course, Master."

But as time ticked away slowly, shadows moving just slight on the walls, Mideon strained harder yet. He contested, almost pleaded in fact for the eye to show anything valuable.

"Mideon!" The tone sheared his senses, "What have you seen?"

Mideon crumbled to one knee defeated and apologetic. "My master, the eye refuses anything more. It will not—"

Aristedt didn't wait for the rest of his explanations He caught Mideon's cheek harsh, strong, and full with the palm of his hand. "Idiot." Father Aristedt fumed. He next shoved the disciple away from the platform.

"Disgust me ... DRUIDS! DRUIDS!!"

A small sea of cloaking figures stormed the room instantaneously.

"Remove this ‘waste’ from my presence. See to it that he is punished." The Father's eyes dropped to Mideon harsh and cold. "Perhaps then you will learn to try harder. Failure is not a option with me.”

1

“Seen ‘them’?” Nyteshade considered the Big Red Machine’s awkward question of them, but Laruna was quick:

“You don’t by chance mean them as in a ten foot tall fire breathing lizard type thing with purple eyes do you? If so, then the answer is yes. Mankind sort of filled us all in. Can we come in and talk? Or do you know of someplace else that would be safer?”

“We've seen and we fought, but I’m more interested in wanting to know what this all has to do with us three." Nyteshade peered around quietly, “We can't stay out here in the hallway. That Kary might come looking for us --and not to show us around backstage, I bet."

Syn, on the other hand, grins at Kane, spending much more time looking over his ...assets... rather than worrying about Kary any longer. “Damn, I love spandex...” She glances up, looking contrite.

“Oops...That was out loud, wasn't it?”

She parted a guilty smile; a look that completely undoes her rueful expression. “Oh well.” She points to a door across the hall. “Is that place open?”

Kane tipped his head at the mention of the demon, Kary. So these girls did know. They HAD to be the ones! He couldn't let Chyna overhear. As she and Mick went fighting, the Big Red Machine motioned the ladies to follow him to a more secluded place where he could "speak"...

"You-have-the-passes-I-sent?"

If they were to check their backstage passes, they would notice a stamp mark of a candle flame on it. It blended in with the logo of the PPV, so it could just have easily been considered a part of it, but...

"You-have-certain-powers.” Undertaker’s little brother rasped into his mike. “Hidden-but-there. .... I-dreamt-and-saw-those-who-would-help. You-must-fight-the-demons-who-are-here."

2

“Damn, Undertaker! Hate Undertaker. Hate ...Hate I do hate...”

Falcy clutced his arm with a flinch as he waiting for the temple door to be open. In the alabaster
light he could see it was already blistered and blotched and pounded the door harder when it was opened fast enough for him.

"Grrrrrr!" He growled and hissed at the pain just as Viscera finally swung the door open. “Ooooo ...I demand to see the Lord of Darkness!!" Falcy demanded. “RIGHT NOW!"

Viscera, however, didn’t appear to share any of the demon’s urgency. "The Master is engaged in a sermon right now." He said crossing his arms. "--So you'll have to wait."

Falcy just shoved through the open door and held up his scorched limb as evidence to the obese disciple. "This not going to wait. No waiting!” And stamped into the center foyer just as Undertaker was returning back to the room.

“YOU!" Falcy charged. “What do you think you are doing! I thought we working together us are! You oppose me! ..Let the Shadow Warrior and the Widow escape and — My arm! ARRRAHH! ...OH! MY ARM!"

“Oh, stop screaming.” The Undertaker scowled. “Besides, I haven't the slightest clue what you are even talking about."

"Don't tell me! You were there! Seen you there! Burnt my arm! Why you burnt my ar— !"

Undertaker reached out and snared the tender limb in a vise.

OW! OW! OW! OWWW!"

"I already told you ..." Undertaker spoke as the creature twisted in agony in his grip. "..I do not have a clue what it is you're talking about. Nor have I any to do with your obsessions with the Shadow Warrior ...and ...if you continue to address me in such a manner I will do much more than burn your arm. Do. You. Understand?"

Falcy wormed and howled again and finally the Undertaker released him. Falcy fanned his poor arm in a dance of wild pain.

"Stop it!" Undertaker snarled and grabbed a goblet off from a nearby tray. The servant holding it bowed and departed. "You almost make me feel sorry for you."

"How do I know that the truth. Nobody else like you. And besides your mother ...You would save her..."

Undertaker's glare speared him again..

"Alright! ALRIGHT! All my saying is that this Undertaker looking like flew in when I was just about ready to waste that punk and injured me. Nobody else looks like you, not that much.” Falcy hissed. "Where is Paul Bearer?"

Undertaker stole a sip from his drink, "I wouldn't know. Dead would be nice."

"My, my.. Quite the ‘lovely’ conversation." A new voice flourished from behind the two and suddenly every other member of the Ministry in the room was bowing low. The Father Aristedt grinned as he descended the small rise down to the foyer.

"Lovely conversation indeed." His eyes sailed across and settled on the beast Falcy who was still pampering his aching limb. "I should like to steal a word with you, Falcon. Care to step this way and we'll talk?"

Druid guards closed in from behind. Falcy giggled, "I..ahhh...Don't have a choice do I? Ahh.. Tee hee."

+++CHAPTER 5+++

Falcy went through the halls with Aristedt accompanied by the two druids.

"What you wish of MEEEEE? Hmmmmm?... I am a Stygie Sap just like you..." He said.

Aristedt turned his head only slightly once they neared the large wooden portal that guarded his personal chambers.

"Leave!" The Dark Father growled at the two druid guards with them, "And see that I'm not disturbed." He wouldn’t speak or even move again until he was certain that he was alone with the monster. Falcy cradled his sore arm, but that’s when the Lord dropped his cowl. New, blue, fantastic eyes ... and not just any blue, they were electric ...a lustrous shade of ice smiling back.

"I know that you want revenge and I think I just might be able to assist you with that.”

“Mmm?”

“I know the one who has done this to you. ...Should you like to play a little bit of ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ for a spell."

Falcy frowned at the offer until Father Aristedt added, supplying the hook:

"Help me to destroy the Undertaker."

In one single moment, Falcy’s whole face twisted. Just by the way one of his eyes was squinting, the Father could tell that the buzzard suspected he presumed the one back behind them still in the foyer. Falcy pointed.

“Ah, yes.” Aristedt knew the answer to the demon’s question. “I suspected your reaction enough. Besides, why would the Higher Power want to destroy the proposed Lord of Darkness?”

“I was thinking that.”

Even silent, Father Aristedt seemed to be teaming with laughter ...A calculative laughter, devious and distorted. All this evil went straight to his face when he grinned. Stepping away to take a seat on his throne, passing the burning basin of fire made the priest’s robe glitter like rubies. His gaze slide into those flames.

“You've grown so accustom to looking at this world with a mortal's eyes that you, in fact, have fallen prey to the mask of deception that it wears, Falcon. The living, though amused as they are, would much rather ignore the outerworldly about them and this is also why you have failed to notice. You fail pathetically."

The burning basin popped and crackled. Falcy’s heart thumped a pace more. How ‘ordinary’ the Higher Power appeared. A Prince Valiant-like face with perfect cheekbones and the straight, sharp nose. ...Inviting it all was ...perhaps ‘too’ inviting! Therein lurked the danger. Aristedt’s snare was trust. Illusion with a purpose. It was only then, sinking past this contemplation before him, that the purest evil made itself known to Falcy. Aristedt's figure came etched in pale light; insubstantial as a moonbeam played. Incorporeal, yet there was power in it ... a uncomprehensible well of might. It was as though all the entire armies of Stygian had met together, gathered, and collected themselves to fashion this one, single smiling form.

“So you believe you have met the Undertaker’s acquaintance on the way in here do you?”

Falcy nodded.

“Fine. We’ll call him the Undertaker then.”

“He is not the Undertaker?” Falcy couldn’t understand.

“Oh, he is ....sort of in a broken and shattered kind of way. Mark Callaway couldn’t possibly understand what has become of himself any longer. Shadow and ruin, he is Undertaker by title now only much more than by fact. I intent to keep it that way.”

Aristedt gloated his conquest at first, he was back to his feet in one instant. “Though flesh may obey,” He said. “The spirit isn’t quite as so willing.”

He suddenly cursed, grumbled, and sat back down again.

“It would seem that I have under estimated the Everlasting Spirit, Kandle’s attachment to these--” Having to mention their name rinsed his happy expression with disgust. “--Creatures of the Night.” He said. The old spirit of the Undertaker had sought them out to preserve and uphold his virtues should anything at all happen to Callaway. Apparently his investment was working, and working far better than Aristedt gave credit for. These fans were a bothersome bunch, but they were still mostly composed of whiny, querulous little girls. How?! It was more than Aristedt could comprehend, how could these ‘mortals’ possibly cause him so much trouble?!

"How does I get past the Ministry?” Falcy explored. “Hmm? They many, I few... No offence, but YOU have PLAN? HMMMMMMMM???"

“I am also ...many.” The priest stated in a matter-of-fact tone. As Falcy squat closer to the floor at the dark master’s feet, Aristedt snickered. “This will be ‘our’ little secret, Falk. Obey me and I will make you a god of this damnation. ..A GOD!"

In his hand appeared two books. Their covers were fashioned of crude-stitched, shriveled human flesh. Falcy knew it in a instant — The books! The BOOKS!!

“One book away.”

"And the other ...Where it?"

"Why...Falcon. Didn't you know? Why but ‘your’ Paul Bearer has it, and he is lying to you. Look--" Father Aristedt pointed to the fiery basin, "--Look here and see."

Twitching within the flames, a image of Paul & Widow appeared. Bearer smiled. There was a embrace....

The books in Aristedt's hands first twinkled, and then vanished in a poof. He rose placing a hand on Falcy's shoulder.

“My friend,” He laughed. “I do believe that the arena is just full of roaches tonight. It needs an exterminator."

Falcy giggled, "La la,la, squishy..squish the roaches..la, la, la..."

Falcy stood up a little bit, his scraggly hair dripping over his beak, he looked up at his new overlord.

"What is next, huh? Huh? I like ROACHES! They squish nice under my tosey-woseys!" he screeched. "And what this about bein' a god? Hmmmm?"

+++CHAPTER 6+++

Meanwhile ....



The Shadow Warrior pressed on. A man standing alone again, it was just as he had been 10 years ago before back when he first met Kane, the Big Red Machine. Used to it, but lonely still the same. His mother ... Would he ever get to see her again? Would he even get to see his brother?!

Shadow left the Bearer Family Parlor in a complete and total stupor. For some reason, he woke to Paul, Reivyn Poe, and the Widow’s all concerned faces and his arm stitched as neatly as any qualified surgeon could. Shadow was so sure he could just trace the outline of the crypt of William Joshua just faintly in the distance. The phoenix, Kandle slept there, but why were they all here now? He never did wait for much of a reply to that curiosity... Perhaps maybe he already knew?

Shadow’s pace quickened . The arena couldn’t possibly be all that much further away now. Already, electric illumination of the city glowed before him just a short distance ahead.

“I spy with my little eye.....”

Shadow broke the final tree line that stood him on a small hillside that at last looked out across several parked cars in several tidy rows. The arena. He had finally made it back.

“Kane.” He said.

1

Paul Bearer lifted the lantern in his hand. Breeze caught his bangs and fluttered them into his face just as he stopped outside the tomb entrance. "BEARER” the inscription read. As if he really needed to be sure anymore.

Clutching the lapels of his jacket more tightly, his eyes moved away from his family name up passed the roof up towards the sky. The sun had already taken on the dull, red-gold haze of coming dusk. Regardless the season, the approach of nightfall has its spell upon the imagination of men. Even in cities it puts something of silence into the turmoil, something of mystery into the commonplace aspect of both the familiar and the day-worn. Darkening .. dark, darker still. The vestige of the change that accompanies the passage of day is as stealthy and mysterious, as swift and inevitable. Everywhere, it is the hour of suspense and the manager of the Undertaker has always often felt the instinctive allure; as though crossing an invisible bridge over a gulf, perchance with troubled glances at the already dimming shore behind him, or with dreaming eyes, watchful or expectant gaze on the veiled shore upon which he almost was.

Paul bite his lip and descended the stone staircase.

In the irregular light of the flame, Kandle's coffin emerged before him betraying the original purpose of this place. The lantern twitched in Paul’s hand from the cold as he set it down beside his feet — but someone else picked it up just as the mortician moved to light the standing candelabras nearby.

"Unnn!!" Paul dropped the booklet of matches. "Oh, Wid'a! ...But?"

"Never mind." Widow shook her head, "I..I wanted to be here." She paused, but it was only for a moment "With you." She added.

Paul Bearer lit up to one of the candlesticks, puffed out the match, and then struck up another. He smiled, but then only turned to light another candle. "I've changed, Catherine. I'm not that thin, young man I was for you then. I guess I stopped caring much ..stopped caring about myself after you was gone ... I thought you were dead, Cathy. ...I mean.. Everybody was sure you..”

"And I look so much better?"

Bearer snorted at the remark. “Feh ...Don't talk like that now. You know you’re just as lovely as you always..." He stopped, turned to see her, "...always were."

Batting his gaze across her face just now, he caught her lips in sudden kiss. Just for a instant. Paul Bearer turned to the final candelabra quickly. "I-I ..shouldn't of done that." He struck another match.

"But I always liked it when you do that." Widow returned.

"You were always impossible to resist, Cat. You still have that same effect." He wrapped one arm around her neck. "How do you do it?"

It was creaking beside them now that broke up the embrace, The Black Widow paused to see the lid of the casket push up and slowly open. Kandle sat up. He was out of the day bed very quick, reaching for his walking stick and adjusting his hat. "Good-Evening." was the dry, but formal reply.

The Widow Cat steps back, still holding onto Paul's hand, "I hope I am not a burden to either of you.” She felt the need to explain her presence there. “I had to remain behind and let Shadow go on alone. I had signed the match against Sable in order to have a dressing room for them all to meet in and make plans. Plus it gave me the freedom to bring in their weapons which they could not have ever gotten past security. I had no real plan beyond that point, and now my presence only serves to cause them all more danger as they worry more about my safety than their own.”

Widow looked sorry.

“I do not have the powers that the others have, and am more susceptible to harm, causing them all to feel they have to protect me. Shadow Warrior is so young and impulsive, that my being by his side could only serve to get him killed. At least now he can stay focused on his mission. Besides, Father Aristedt cannot use me to control him if I am not there."

"Oh, no." The Phoenix closed the coffin lid and immediately pitched a scolding glance to the woman his modern era knew as his mother and to the theories she was making about herself. "Sometimes, mother..." He stepped closer to her to where the flickering candlelight would dance for a moment in the twin, smoking spheres, "Sometimes what is strength is in fact a weakness, and what may be foreseen as a weakness is truly an asset. With or without special powers, their magic could not of gotten them into the arena without your own gifts. And they are that."

Kane's eyes considered the room around them, "This is NO gift, mother Widow."

"Ohh, Kandle." Widow was sympathetic. She smiled. "How much you have not changed afterall. In your words I still find Undertaker. There is hope as long as that is true. He’s not completely lost is he?"

"As long as I yet remain intact, yes. Real creatures know the truth. They are not lured by the snatches of the puppetry displayed before them. This will have a end. Once within myself at last, this corpse before you now will have finally served his purpose.”

"Soon." Paul Bearer's voice was promising. He reached for the lantern he brought him. "Soon now."

“It cannot come soon enough.” Kandle said.

It all sounded so hopeful, but a question mark played still there on the Widow's face, "But then ....what will happen to you, Kane? In the end, I mean."

He didn’t say anything right away. Kandle just moved away to the staircase. He look up and out of the old crypt. "I will be as I should have always been ....passed away at last. Finally at rest. Finally complete. Finally whole within my present, Paul's Undertaker...Your Son."

"Y-You..You’ll ....DIE?!"

"I am already dead, Mother. For a long time now. He turned to face her distress, “It is pointless to mourn now. There is much graver concerns. The eye of Mideon is Aristedt's ‘spy’ of Stygian. It is in Stygian where my curse was first forged over three centuries ago."

"This is why I began the "Occult" hoping to gain information that would be vital to us all.” The chubby mortician injected. “To answer those questions. I haven't pin pointed it all just yet."

"...But the eye watches." Kane finished. "That I do know, and that is why no place is truly safe. Not even what Shadow, or the gathered may think to be a *privite* meeting. They must be careful. Nothing is what it ever seems."

"Could they be in danger?!" Widow gasp.

"No." Kandle readjusted his stick again, "No, I hope not. Some how I fee — ?"

The cane clinked off something near the pyre’s base. It slide across the floor when the stick hit it and Bearer's face tightened; his body tense. He knew even before looking. Its silver twinkled amongst a cushion of dead and dry leaves. Kandle’s expression creased curiously just as the Widow’s face washed free from its color.

"NO, KANE!" Paul Bearer lunged forward, but the vampire had already leaned and pulled up the dagger.... The Shadow Warrior's sai. Why was it here? Why was it...

The spirit of the Undertaker shook the blade away from his hand in recoil. The silver; painful. Disgusted, his steel eyes flipped from the Widow and bore deep into those of his paunchy keeper.

"No Kane, What?" He snapped, "What EXACTLY Paul?!"

"Kandle it was a accident.” Widow spoke first. “We wanted to save you the pain, the..."

"The explanation?" Kandle cut stoney, "And what IS that explanation??"

"It's not what you're believing, Kane. It was Aristedt. He tricked Shadow into trying to....."

"To kill me?" The Pheonix cut again, "That makes sense. Though it would also not be his first or last gesture. Why the need to conceal it from me now?"

“Because,” Widow pushed in front of Paul Bearer again. "I was worried you might be angry with Shadow. I’ve never told him about his father and so how could he know him in order to resist his voice if, and when, he heard i— Ohhh!”

It was out of her mouth before Widow could even realize that magnitude of her revelation. Her hands just cupped around her mouth tight. Way too little, and much too late. The vampire heard every word. Father Aristedt ...Darin Hill ..somehow, someway, was connected to the Shadow Warrior.

"Father?" Kandle grimaced first, then he yelled, "Father?! HIS FATHER?!!"

Raging, the spirit tore from the room. Widow wasted no time either in following him either. She grabbed Paul's hand and started, nearly dragging him, from the crypt in the direction of the parlor.

"The hearse! Do you have the keys, Paul?! We have to go! Kandle is too upset and too confused to be confronting Shadow. I’m sure that’s just what Aristedt wants. For him to be distracted by his hatred and make a mistake! We have to go right NOW!”

Paul Bearer frantically patted his jacket exploring all his pockets.

"Um, Shit!" He scolded himself, "Wait! They're in the house on the kitchen counter!"

Already, Widow was gone. She was racing towards the parlor.

"Hurry up, Cathy and I'll meet you by the garage!!" Paul darted off, Lantern swinging madly.

Catherine rushed onto the porch, the front door already open, and just bolted on trough jumping over the threshold without so much as breaking a ounce of stride. She sailed into the kitchen right to the counter where the keys were, right where Paul had said. Grabbing them, she dashed to the garage where he was standing there by the hearse. He reached out his hand for the keys.

"This time Paul, I am driving. If memory serves me correctly, you drive like you are going to a funeral!"

He just dished her a look.

"Oh Paul, please. It's the 90s, and I am not that timid little mouse you knew before. Slide in and let's get going before Kandle reaches Shadow and does something that he will regret for another 300 years! We have to get there in time! By the way, You had better buckle up! Let's see what this Caddy really can do!"

With that, she started it up, dropped it in gear, and stepped on the gas smoking the tires all the way down the paved drive!

The mortician had faced many dangers in his life time and so was not afraid of much ....but Widow was altogether different! The look on Paul Bearer’s face and the way his knuckles were chalk white from seizing the seat belt strap across his chest, told his female driver that he definitely was not comfortable riding in a Hearse with a Mad Woman at the wheel!

"Paul? ... Paul, open your eyes! Come on, when this is over, you can drive us home."

Bearer was still squeezed back flat against the car seat as though they were one. Huge eyes were staring forward boldly. For a second, without words, those ‘I-can't-believe-you- just-did-that’ globes turned to face her..

"Oh, Paul.. Hahaha .. You’re just too cute."

"Cute?" He exclaimed, "Woman, my hearts somewheres there still back on West & Couton Drive!"

+++++++

NEXT SCENE: Epitaph of memories pooled...

[Druidess]

1

The demon paused. Standing and looking out from the edge of his untamed habitat, the modern life of the city sparkled and gleamed. In his hesitation, Kandle remembered the metropolis when it first was established. He watched it blossoming, maturing --and then watched it decay all over again. There was once a lot more forest here in this same exact spot he stood now, then the first of several settlers came. They hacked away the tall pines for their camps and log cabins. In time, those too were all razed to make way for bigger, better, and even taller achievements in steel and concrete.

The blare of a car horn robbed Kane of the memory. Jerking to look, it honked again, in complaint to the traffic no less, but the distraction did remind him that there was a 'different' reason to his coming here...

He sniffed the air. Yes, the Shadow Warrior had passed by this way. Kandle could now see the wide stretch of the exterior walls of the arena. It rose up from behind a few of the small clusters of businesses and seemed to --at least for the moment-- disappear in the thick of the night.

In the back lot, a bored security guard strolled, casually rapping his walkie-talkie against the palm of his free hand. Just above, the slender crescent of moonlight grinned down at Kandle through a grungy cloud. Voice carried as a muffled intonation to the low knoll where the creature of the night waited in the yew's shadow. Somewhere else a radio fuzzed on and off. The arena lot was strangely void of fans. Could they all be inside?

Kandle fixed his hat, crooking his head up. He prepared to step forward.

"Wow, Undertaker!"

Dammit. Kane swirled in the direction of the voice. The figure that it belonged to quickly pocketed his walkie-talkie. It was the security guard.

"Undertaker-sir." The man, even composed, was excited when he shook Kandle’s hand. "I wasn't sure I should expect you tonight. What a pleasure."

The man was delighted, so in fact that his heart was pounding so furious that Kandle wasn’t certain he could hear the fellow over the thundering of his blood. Though the guard meant to be friendly, momentary companionship all too often competed with Kane’s thirsty needs. Occasionally, desire for blood would empty him, and in the dreary rush, the aroma would cloud his eyes and he would have to bow his head and hope that it would quell.

Kandle stroked his incisors with the tip of his tongue looking and longing at the arena's back entrance that he could see directly over the guard’s shoulder behind him. He didn’t need this. Not now!

Th-thump-th-thump-th-thump....

The guard was still speaking, obviously oblivious over the steady thud in his veins. "Those are the coolest duds I have ever seen.” He said. “No more druid, eh?”

Again the vampire tossed his head aching and desperate at the entrance.

“Going a bit, um.. Revolutionary, huh? Something else you got in mind?”

Th-thump-th-thump....

Kandle supplied the curious man with a hurried nod. "Actually, it is older.” He corrected, and then made a move in the direction of the door. “Listen, I ...I do beg your pardon, but is this where I would need to be going?”

“Yes, sir, it is. Have any luggage? Lemme just radio in for you, Mr. Callaway, and you’ll be all set to go, Okay?”

He sounded much too happy when he spoke. He wouldn’t have been if the man had a clue. The security guard was already reaching for his walkie.

“That isn’t necessary.” Kandle caught his hand.

“Sir?”

“Don’t do that, Daniel."

"D-d..aniel?"

The man suddenly wasn’t smiling anymore. In fact, he was quite surprised. His brow shuffled undecided between the three expressions he gave at once. "You know me?"

Kandle didn’t answer him ....He wasn’t going to. The question was unimportant now. The Phoenix’s hand left the radio and settled on the curve of the security guard’s shoulder. Even then, Daniel never spoke a word more. Had panic exploded in his skull? Mental fireworks that obliterated thought and action both? Daniel didn’t react; he couldn’t. He stood there, violently trembling, because he was incapable of doing more, or less.

The walkie-talkie fell loose to the ground.

“Look.” Kandle’s low, slightly rough voice made the word a command.

2

He had only just stepped outside for a quick cigarette break when he spotted the empty security booth. It’s door was wide open and Daniel was nowhere in sight.

“God-f**king-dammit!” The employee complained to himself first, and then out loud, slamming the door hard. Anyone in the world could have just waltz right into the arena.

“Oh, come on, Dan, Jesus! You're not supposed to leave the f**king post like that! Hey, Daniel! ....DANIEL?!"

He stomped right on by; entirely oblivious of the shadowed lean of the place between the adjacent walls and a tree where the volcanic-hued eyes of the Phoenix considered the man’s tantrum for just a second more from his seat on the grass just before Kandle returned his interest to the matter at hand: Kandle licked his tongue once across Daniel's torn ivory flesh beneath him and then plunged back into the wound.

3

Reivyn Poe, herself had arrived at the arena. She didn’t see Kandle ...at least not immediately. She never knew that the spirit had left the parlor, or even why.

Instead she passed by in search of the darker half to her hero. Maybe ...well maybe if she created a ruckus to get the Undertaker's attention, she could confront him one on one and then her true power could show. Mark could be alright then, right? Afterall, the spirit of the Undertaker lived within the soul of all mankind. He promised that to all of his Creatures of the Night when he yet was well, and she was one of the very few who took advantage of that very fact.

But she also didn’t exactly, nor fully understand neither. If she destroyed the darkness in Mark Callaway in order to save him, would she also kill her sweet angel as well, the only thing that meant anything to her for so very long? The harsh fact quivered in her bosom and a rare tear leaked down Reivyn’s cheek. She HAD to send the evil in him to sleep. ..She had too.

She thought back to the things that his spirit, the Phoenix revealed to her. My God, it seemed a impossible task for someone so young! Kandle ...Undertaker, The Undertaker had to be AT LEAST 300 years old! She was only 22.

4

Daniel’s eyeballs looked like two, glass marbles ..A doll’s eyes, that’s what they looked like. Just like the empty and vacant staring of a porcelain baby doll.

Where there had once been terror there was now only a slow emptiness that was already cooling. There was the quiet. The last fit, the final spasm had come and it had gone leaving the security guard Daniel’s terminal expression much more engaged in perpetual awe rather than some infinite scream. His death-stiff grip was still twisted around Kandle’s jacket lapel tight in frozen protest --so strong that the vampire had to tug twice and dropped the hand to the dead security guard’s chest. It was then, for a spell longer, that the glowing gold and red burning fixated in Kandle’s eyes flared brilliantly, just like a fresh breath on coals. The embers retreated and perished immediately the very moment he sat up and away from his victim.

Though his eyes were open wide, the Phoenix slide, leaning his back into the tree trunk just behind him and drew one of his knees closer to his chest. Sorrow fought to seize him ...it poked in a effort to crumple his mighty expression.


....Now see what you’ve done!!...


A gust fluttered Kandle’s loose locks into his face and stuck them to the matting of blood. The cruelty of his father's voice echoed across the centuries gone by and attacked him with the same brutality that he remembered so well when he was a child. He could ‘just’ see the old man standing before him now ...could see the vision of his long, braided leather cord threatening.


....I’M TALKING TO YOU, BOY!...


“I don’t care anymore, father.”


Kandle said it, whether or not he felt it was the truth. Years before, in his mortality, he would cower and even grovel, but today, he barely flinched. His gaze fixed forward and flat --And why not? Was there really any more other sort of anguish left that he had yet to experience? Some other sadness that he hadn’t already grieved? In the passing of life and decades, his needs had become much simpler. Too many times his thirst seemed much crueler, more impatient with a world too dull to recognize it, or him. Barbarism replaced love and fear even though he really wanted to still feel them. He sheathed his soul in a guarded coldness and moved, a unsatisfied and restless hunter, through mortal crowds. More and more, he understood what it meant to be a thing apart --a spirit of clay, a stranger among scenes that had once been his own.

Did he cry? He did --and plenty. But when the cities came, Kane the Undertaker climbed into the giddy circles of their delights and became a whispered rumor of horror stalking the drunkard and the criminal. He fed from the mongrels with a greedy compulsion, glutting his hunger where it could not be witnessed. Cloaked in the filth of the slums, who cared about them?

“I wouldn’t stalk forever in the cities’ infernal regions, father." Kandle told the phantom. "Unlike my life, I discovered rather quickly that I was no longer limited to any class, or any other category that men give other men. Whenever the fancy should arouse me, at any time, I could enter the brightest salons of society; this glittering world of great mansions and fantastic balls, and be wanted."

Description fostered memories and Kandle discovered that they were still so vivid yet, now that he would mention them again.

In those days, he was courted, flattered, visited, and desired always. there seemed to be no other topic of conversation, no other object of curiosity or praise. He had only to enter a ballroom to sense its surrender to him. He would gaze about the wealth and beauty swirling on the floor, and at once, a hundred eyes would turn to admire his face, a hundred hearts would beat faster than his stare. Yet this enchantment mortals felt was something they also barely understood, and Daniel --it would now seem-- was no different from them at all ...no different now, or any other time or bygone era.

“No, father.” Kandle decided. “No, I don’t care. You see, there exist a peculiar pride in one’s desolation. It comes when you accept that there is no resolve.”

But he did care. Pain deformed his face and squeezed Kane’s eyelids tight --even that would not prevent the weeping that was eventually coming. Pinching his lips together, the spirit drew them up into a quivering, first suppressed, but then mournful cry.

"Shadow!"

Someone was suddenly calling and a figure was beginning to close in. In the remote corners of his mind, Kane thought the voice sounded like 'hers'.

"Belle?"

Reivyn Poe stopped in her tracks; a questioning glance in the direction she thought she heard it. It was there she found him --Kandle’s body snagged against the tree trunk. She went to him quickly, kneeling beside him, and cautiously petting his brow. It was clear he had been sobbing --the fresh line of damp was still present, but Kandle still wouldn’t look at her, not even when she shifted so that her face was level with his.

“Kandle?” She tried.

Nothing.

“Easy, ‘Taker, easy..."

Poe stroked his forehead again, fighting..trying to reach ‘him’ somehow ....Wherever that was.

“Kane?”

What ever was he staring at? His widen, unblinking eyes actually began to frighten her much more than his silence --but when her hand slipped down his right cheek to his chin, she felt a sticky dampness there that sent a wrath of shivers speeding through her body. It thudded hard in her ears. She was so cold all of the sudden! The death chill seemed to swirl through her and all around her, turning her immediate shivering into teeth-rattling shudders. When she looked to see why ...daring herself to follow his staring, a raw, guttural sound burst from her chest when she picked out the mutilated throat of the security man, Daniel in the black.

Kandle was whimpering again. He had drawn his legs up to his chest and curled forward so that his forehead would rest on his knees.

“Forgive me, Father ..Forgive me.”

+++++++

NEXT SCENE: Strolling through the flames as though they were non-existent, the mysterious savior sets the child down in the driveway as his focus shifts for just a moment to the blazing funeral parlor. Its front porch suddenly caves and crashes into ruin.

He vanishes.

As the memory replays, is immediately replaced with the faint voice of Dr. Forbes. He was on the phone in the adjacent room now informing his father, Paul Bearer that his son had an ‘imaginary playmate’.

“--Named ‘Kane’ no less.” The doctor spoke. “Just like his. We believe he may be suffering from trauma. ..why, with his mother and all. We feel that we may need to change his medication.”

[Druidess]

‘Kane’s drawing’ By Jewel Seekings, Age 8

+++CHAPTER 7+++

Memories rise and fall. I remember the accusers. I remember how they pointed at me. I remember their faces --how hateful; so twisted with a violence far more evil than their own charges against me.

"Kandle DeSullivan!! Seize your sinnings and repent! Face the wrath of God! Know ye not that the maw of hell gapes wide, ready to receive all that flout the commandments of the Lord!! Confess your lewd evil dealings with the Devil!!"

...I gave them nothing.

...A verdict is passed.

...I will die.

There was a momentary promise of redemption for me. But it was soon all too fleeting. A message came down from Salem from Boston, by order of the governor of the providence of Massachusetts Bay, all those still in the prisons for crimes of witchcraft must be set free at once. The pardon was signed by Sir William Phips himself. Darin Hill was polite, gentlemanly of course, to the carrier. But as soon as the boy left, he crushed the order in his hand tight and then tossed it as kindling to the fireplace ---much to the stunned gasp of the bailiff.

“Master Hill!”

“Unfortunately dreadful ..isn’t it?”

“Sir?!”

“Why, that we received no such order in time. I’m certain that I did not.”

Watching for a moment more as the paper burned to ashes, Darin Hill gave the bailiff a hard, cool look that told the man that he fully intended for him to agree.

“Did you, good man?”

Though he were taken aback, the bailiff eventually nodded and my fate was certainly, unquestionably sealed. “No, sir. No order came here.”

And I remember voices. I remember the slow, unsteady march by torch light. In my beaten and weakened state, my legs gave out and I remember being kicked when I fell. Belle ..Belle, she screamed out from the crowd for me.

Even more, Kandle remembered how he lost Belle forever and ever. It was an act of defiance on her part to use Darin Hill’s own weapon in which to take her life. If not in this life, then to be with Kandle on the other side; that is what she believed as she drove the sword deep into her chest.

But he would not be waiting for her there.

Three long centuries had passed since that day, since the Undertaker wept beside her grave. No magic spell would bring her back, no, but the evils forged on that long ago day did ...the day the parlor on the hill burnt to the ground.

My brother. My brother, Kane. Innocent child of his own name fated to suffer his same damnation. Kandle had look down at the small, piteous child. The room was already alive with flames and smoke. The 7-year old child cried and Kandle reached to scoop the boy up and save him.

In his arms, the fire over took both of their bodies and the ceiling cracked, but in the arms of the phoenix, it's fatal scorch would not, it seemingly could not, kill. Kandle set the injured child down outside in the driveway and then vanished just as the first of many fire trucks arrived at the scene. When little Kane explained how he could possibly have made it out alive from such a devastating fire, the doctors at the asylum would not believe the boy:

"It's trauma. Plain and simple. Why, with the loss of his mother it’s understandable. So what does he do? I’ll tell you what he does. He creates this illusion of this, this guardian angel, who appears in the midst of the flames--" The doctor chuckled just then to the others around him in the office. "--Completely unscaved, mind you. I'm telling you it's trauma. Brain damage that was most likely induced by the smoke inhalation.”

It was only a few days later, hearing talking coming from inside the room, that one of the hospital staff opened the door to find Kane standing before the window and speaking to it.

"Kane? Who are you talking too, Kane?"

The boy's eyes were fixed on the black, glassy pane. "The one who saved me." he smiled. “Look! ..there he is right there.”

But there wasn’t anybody there that the nurse could see.

“He’s my brother.” Kane added cheerfully. “His name is Kane, too.”

But when the doctors discovered this...

"Enough!! That will be quite enough of this foolishness! Imaginary playmates, indeed. There was NO man in the fire, Kane! No man!” The doctor’s voice became calm. He even patted the boy. “Now this medication will help you forget all those bad dreams of yours, okay? Come on now.”

The voice faded away into oblivion.

“...bad dreams ...bad dreams”

1

"Kandle?" Reivyn Poe was petting his hair again and, at last, the memories fell away and departed.

"Bbb..elle?" Kandle blinked, "Belle?"

"No, It's me. It's Reivyn."

"Where's Belle. I..I heard her..."

The old Undertaker just crashed his head to her chest and Reivyn Poe smiled at him; happy that he finally snapped out of it.

"You have to take it easy, sir. I know your soul is at unrest, but if we don't do something you'll cease to exist. The match isn't far away, I'm sure." she said.

And then it crossed her mind... SHADOW WARRIOR! He tried to stake Kandle. Her eyes rose at the thought of it and she held on to his arm.

"Kandle?" she asked "Is it Shadow? If so, I think there is something you should know. He may be Aristedt's son, but, well ...He's also your brother ...technically. I don't know all the details exactly, but that's the gist of it. But I do know this, I don't think it was entirely his fault."

One silvery eye caught Reivyn just then as the creature took his hat to re-adjust it upon his head. He looked so regal just then with the falls from his coat flapping in the wind like a state flag. Though she had seen it before yesterday evening, this time Poe looked deeper ...lingered longer until her stare settled upon the lace, like vanilla icing, that wreathed his hands.

"I know that you mean well, Reivyn Poe." Kandle puffed over a breath. "What is of urgency now is that the match will be starting soon and I feel a great evil undercurrent about it. The arena could become a death trap."

The vampire sniffed the air.

"Yyyyes ...A great evil is building."

It was only then, dropping his head to see her, that Kandle caught the admiring look and paused for a instant. She didn’t budge the slightest bit. Not even when he returned the stare.

"M'lady?" he enquired, flashing a toothy grin before just before the shadow play under the wide brim of his hat hid most of his features.

"Hm? --Oh!" His voice hurled Reivyn Poe back to reality. “Oh. Yes, yes ...Well then, um ..I suggest we head for the rafters" she suggested, coughing quickly. "We’ll be able to monitor the entire arena floor from there. And if things get ugly, well.”

“Point taken.”

“We shouldn’t have any trouble getting inside.”

“And not much worry if we are seen.”

Well. Perhaps. Kandle paused. Neither one of them had really taken that fact into much consideration. The Undertaker, his self of this modern era, was here tonight. It was his Ministry of Darkness that was headlining the main event this evening. If he were to be seen, and in two places?

"Talk about alter egos" Reivyn hid the sword at her side. "I have this feeling that you and Mister Socko would get along great."

"Mister Socko?"

"Never mind, Kane."

2

Reaching the ladder, Reivyn Poe climbed up to where the entrance to the rafters were for the crew members. She was still thinking about what Kandle said outside in the lot.

“You know,” she began. “We ‘could’ use it to our advantage. I am certain that the Ministry would sense the same power radiating from you." she said. "Wouldn’t they? I mean, well technically you ‘are’ the Undertaker and it may cause some of them to join our side."

As they neared the top loft, Kandle turned to Reivyn with one stiff finger placed over his lips, gave a shush, and then waddled out on his knees to the bar stretched out in front of them. Quietly, he removed his hat and then peeked just enough so that he could see the floor below. It was a literal sea of living flesh. Some leaped, some chatted. Their voices melded with others making intangible clatter.

"My God." The phoenix whistled under his breath.

"What?" Reivyn squeezed in squashing her body against his back and perching her head over his right shoulder inches from his cheek.

"All these people." Kandle whispered. "All these people. And all of them ignorant to what their eyes show them. All of them are taking a gamble with their lives to be here this night ...and not a one of them is the slightest bit aware."

He immediately changed the subject. "If I were to make myself visible, there are a million creatures of the night out there who are going to believe that I AM the Undertaker they know. It'll be the ruin of all of you."

Reivyn finally peeked out across and said something like ‘God damn’ until she sat back on her knees to see Kandle better.

"But it could just be the key to life & death as well."

+++CHAPTER 8+++

Meanwhile, at the dressing room of the Big Red Machine ....


Shelara White Dove had pulled her jacket closer around her and watched their new companion speaking to a shadow. She crooked her head sideways and looked down the corridor. Something flashed in her mind, but it only lasted momentarily. When she looked up, Shadow Warrior was speaking ... something about Kane, about danger ...and about demons. Her pace quickened when he asked her to lead the way.

"Close, indeed" she sniffled. She didn't even bother to look back at the two of them. Either way, hers, his, their destiny lay here behind the door.

Tapping lightly, she called, "It's Shel," and she opened the door.

Shelara traced Shadow Warrior’s every step as they both moved into the dressing room. Inside, there are four people standing in a circle around each other. Three of them Shadow already recognizes from earlier, they are of the group of rebels that the Black Widow sat with earlier yesterday evening.

But when Warrior reached the middle of the room, in awe, he was looking past the 3 women at a tall figure. Shelara joined Nyteshade, Laruna, and Syn to gather around the wrestler when all at once, Shadow Warrior’s knees buckled beneath. But he was not hurt. In fact, quite the opposite, his eyes seem to glow in his paling expression. With his left hand, he reached out to the red and black giant. For the first time in two years, he had finally found the one person he could call his friend. The same person he could now call--

"Kane, it is I ...Shadow ...y-your brother."

1

Searching the corridors for signs of anyone they needed to find --and hoping not to run into those they did not, Widow and Paul Bearer cautiously considered both directions. nearing the dressing room door of Kane, and could hear voices from inside.

Widow turned to the manager. "Thank goodness, Paul. Shadow is in there and has found Kane. He is alright. Kandle hasn’t found him yet."

Huge eyes still hadn't left Bearer's face. There was a different kind of fear that he felt inside and it came straight from the other side of this door; the fear, the shame of guilt. Kane wouldn’t possibly understand this. None of this.

"Wid’a," he struggled to whisper, "I.. I can't go in there, Widow. I can’t! Please ..Please let's just go see if we can find him then if he’s not here."

Black Widow thought for sure that she spotted a tear played at the corners of Paul Bearer's eyes, but the mortician was already turning away.

2

Kane tilted his head inquisitively at the group at when the man before him fell to his knees. It took him a moment, not having seen Shadow Warrior in awhile, but it came back.

"My... friend" was all he could say. The big red and black giant wanted to introduce him to his new friends, but he was too curious.

"Closest-to-brother-you-have--been --my-friend" Kane replied. "What-do-you --mean?"

It was then Kane noticed something ...something ... familiar and from the past. He couldn't placed his finger on it until he looked to the doorway and smelled something. Since losing an eye, his other senses were much more acute. It was flowery, peaceful. Was it ...Her?

It couldn't be! Kane tipped his head to the other side. A tear crossing his crimson mask.

The Black Widow was still standing yet just outside the door of the dressing room with both her palms pressed flat and body braced against it.

"I don’t know if I can leave this spot. How can I, knowing that just on the other side is my baby boy? I haven't seen, touched, or smelled his hair in almost 23 years. He is right on the other side of this door.”

She sniffed suddenly; Her forehead rocking on the metallic portal.

"If you are seen with me, what will happen to you?” Widow asked Paul Bearer. “Father Aristedt knows who I am. If he sees you with me, he’ll know what you are up to. You should leave me here and go find Kandle if you can. Reason with him. If you think I am wrong, then drag me away, because I can't move. Everything that I am wants to go through this door. I cannot command my body to move from it."

Bearer squished his back into the wall behind him. It was a long time before he could speak. He knew that the girls, those creatures of the night, they would be bound to find if they went inside would not be able to fathom his presence there. And Kane! My God, Kane was beyond that door!

"Noo.." Bearer sank to his knees. He sounded sad. "If I am to die, then I will do so knowing that I'm not ashamed of you."

"Paul ..Paul? The Rebellion won't hurt you. You will have me to explain your presence. Shadow also knows the truth. Didn’t you tell Kane the truth before sending him off?”

Widow understood immediately by his worrisome expression that he had not.

“You haven’t?! Oh, this is a fine situation! Kandle thinks Shadow wants to kill him, and our son wants to pulverize you, and I will enter his life for the first time in two decades with the evil father that he will believe betrayed and abandoned him. And there are at least four more people in that room who want to see you dead!"

She took a deep breath looking up at the ceiling.

"If we don't enter that room, the creatures that roam around back here, like Falcy, are gonna see you and me together and rip us both to shreds! Do we have any other choice, Paul. Please tell me if we do, if not, let's enter this room and get it over with. I will stand infront of you, until we have a chance to let the girls know you are not the enemy. Whatever we do, we must do it soon, or we will put them all in danger standing out here."

The Black Widow took Paul’s hand and eased him up to his feet and then, as if to lighten things a little, she put her finger tips under the manager’s chin, and raised his face so his eyes met hers,

"Hey” she smiled. “I drove the car. You make the choice. It’s the 90's remember? Equal opportunity ...Heehee."

Paul Bearer tried to giggle over the feeling. To do it for Widow, but the reality of the moment was much too real. Paul took her hand slowly and put it too her side.

"I'm afraid that Kane understands nothing about this, Widow. Not about Aristedt, the prophecy, and he was taught for years that the man who appeared in the fire 22 years ago was meerly a smoke induced fantasy. I know that he's always believed ‘something’ saved him, but Kandle? ...Mmmm, I dunno, Cat. And how? How could I explain it?” Paul dropped his head. "How can I explain why I had to be ...HAD to be cruel in order to save him? To save us all! And listen to you! You've waited all these years, Catherine. All these years to see our baby. If I walk in there with you now, I will ruin a precious moment for you because of the unexplained. I don't want to hurt --!"

Bearer's words cut off somewhere right in the middle of his throat. He swallowed them back down.

"Paul Bearer!!" One of the Acolytes, Bradshaw had spotted the mortician standing there and now he was approaching them ---fast!

“Shit.”

When Bradshaw’s dark eyes landed on the Widow, he growled. “You!”

"I will handle this, Bradshaw!" Bearer lied instantly, "I just caught the harlot nosing about. So I know she knows EXACTLY where Kane & his lice are hiding at!"

Paul made it good by stabbing Widow with evil eyes.

"Don'tcha, Whore!?"

Paul jerked his head to the Acolyte, "Go ahead, Bradshaw. I'm quite sure I'll have the answer shortly."

"Have you checked here?" The black eyes blinked.

"Yes, I've checked this entire wing. Every room. That idiot son of mine isn't here. Get started on the other wing."

Bradshaw nodded, and with a quick scowl at the Widow, he departed. When he rounded the corner though, Paul Bearer nearly fainted. "Omigod!" He coughed.

"Y-you ...you SAVED them." Widow was struck dumb, looking in the direction the Acolyte had gone, and then to the door. "You saved them!"

+++++++

NEXT SCENE: A door is opened.

[Druidess]

--- CONTINUED IN THREAD 4 --- !!!