Little Boy Blue

TWO

August 2004

ASHLEY

They played through their practice set, and Ashley sang until he thought his heart was going to burst in his chest and that would be all right. Singing was pure pleasure, and he never wanted to stop.

His hands shaped the air as he sang. He could feel energy thrumming through his entire body and fought an urge to dance. His body wanted him to whirl and twirl and throw his arms out, completely letting go of all sense of control, but he still remembered the embarrassment of the first real practice session. The others had all looked at him as though he were insane. Then had come the laughter and the not-quite mean mockery. They hadn't purposely meant to hurt his feelings, but he hadn't let himself go like that again.

"That was perfect!" Quiche almost-shouted when they were done. "It sounded just like it did when it was in my head. Benny never would have gotten it nearly so good."

"Yeah, and if we do it like that on Saturday, we'll be all set," Freddy said.

"Uh, I didn't really want to say anything because I wasn't sure how you'd react, but, well..." Scooby looked halfway scared, yet excited. "I called in a favor owed me and there's gonna be a guy there on Saturday. He works for a record company, and if he likes us..." The rest of what he was saying was drowned out by Quiche and Freddy shouting and yipping and piling on top of him. Ashley just stayed where he was, not really understanding what was happening.

Though he was learning as fast as he could, there was still much he didn't understand about the Mortal Realm and its inhabitants. And it wasn't just the words and phrases they used either. The attitudes and the accepted and unaccepted moors sometimes confused him. There was just too much for him to absorb, and he hadn't been here long enough to have gained a complete understanding. He just didn't know some things yet, like why they would be so happy at Scooby's news.

"What's happening?" he finally asked.

They turned to him, surprised that he didn't know what was so obvious to them.

"If we impress the dude, we could end up with a record deal!" Quiche yelled. He held his two fists upraised, the muscles of his skinny arms flexed tight with emotion.

"And that's good?" Ashley half-asked, cocking his head.

"Of course it's good!" Freddy yelled. "Our band could become fucking legend!"

"Don't yell at him." Scooby raised placating hands. "He's a foreigner and he doesn't know." He looked at Ashley. "Sit down over there." He pointed.

Ashley sat and looked up at Scooby attentively. He was waiting for some ray of light to illuminate his mind, giving their excitement about the news a sudden meaning that would bring him the same pleasure. He wanted to be as happy and hopeful as them. He wanted to possess the same uninhibited joy of the moment, and all he had to do to feel it was to understand.

"If we get a record deal," Scooby said patiently, "they'll record our songs on CDs, then we'll be played on the radio, we'll travel around doing concerts and generally we'll become famous!"

It was still a little confusing and that abbreviated explanation didn't really help, but he figured that if they thought it was good, he would too. Ashley tried a smile. "We will make them happy."

Scooby slapped him on the shoulder. "Exactly. You just sing as good as you did tonight on Saturday and we'll be all set. Our futures will be assured."

Sitting there, not really understanding, Ashley could still smile. Everything would be perfect as long as he could sing. He was a music-maker.

August 2004

ASHLEY

A night of music and beauty. He had never imagined anything like this. It felt as though something inside of him was expanding impossibly large, filling him up until it poured from his flesh, engulfing him until he disappeared into it, utterly consumed. It was a wondrous explosion, a nearly tactile sensation completely beyond the bounds of experience. It roared within and without him, tickling his every nerve into burning splendor. He never wanted to give this up. He wanted this moment to be his forever.

There was so much music in this world that he didn't know what he would do if it all ended. The music had become part of his soul. Everything that he was was interlocked with the music.

I love it here, he thought, though a part of him still wanted to go home, back where he belonged. Back into the Master's embrace and all that that entailed.

Standing on the stage Saturday night, he stared out at the faces that watched him. The light was so bright, but still everything was so clear. He could see every moment as a separate and distinct piece of some greater whole that he could barely imagine, yet yearned after with everything in him.

This was all he had ever wanted, everything he had ever dreamed of. Why should he ever want to go home? There was nothing there for him, not really, just a life without this wonder and amazement, without this hope and everything. All that he could ever have there was the tiny bit of the Master that his life had allotted him, while here he could have the whole of the music. The choice, though painful, was not a hard one, especially when he knew that he had completely ruined things between the Master and himself. There was no going home. This was all that he could have--he would not let it slip from his grasp. It was his.

Parts of him still didn't understand what was happening. There was still so much to see and do and think and feel that he didn't know what he was going to do now. All he knew was that he was here and he was making music. It was enough.

Music has become a part of me, he thought.

Even in sleep, my dreams are filled with the wonder of these moments when I am everything to these people and my voice is the voice of the world. I encompass everything, and everything encompasses me.

He didn't really understand what he was feeling, since he had never felt this good before, but he knew that this was what he had always wanted and he never wanted to let it go. He wanted to hold onto these moments forever. Wanted to become so much a part of the music that it ran through his veins as blood, pumped through his heart with the essence of life and filled his lungs with the air to sing.

Ashley smiled out at the crowd, feeling his heart uplifted. He opened his mouth and the music came pouring out, flowing from the bottoms of his feet up through his body, expanding his throat impossibly wide. He watched the audience sway with the song, feeling what he sang as though his emotions were theirs.

He felt connected to all of these young people, as though if he reached out his hand and touched them they would melt into his flesh. Either they were a hallucination or he was. The world was a dream and maybe he didn't really stand here, but if it came down to it he never wanted to wake up. This was the life he had always wanted and there was an unwillingness in him to let it go. He wanted to sing and dance and engulf the world whole with the power of the music.

When the night was done, he wandered backstage on rubbery legs. His face was covered with sweat but he felt as though he could fly if he wanted it enough.

He was so lost the world of his own that he didn't see Benny before it was too late.

Benny seemed to come out of nowhere and punch him hard in the face, then shoved him in the chest, sending him into the wall. He cried out as he hit the floor. The impacts hadn't been that strong, but he hadn't been expecting them.

"Why did you have to come here?" Benny demanded. "You, with your pretty boy looks, you get me tossed out of the band like I'm nothing, like I'm fucking trash." He kicked Ashley hard in the stomach. He was wearing big black boots that looked as though they could walk a million miles without falling apart, the toes lined with steel.

Doubling up, Ashley still saw the tears in Benny's eyes. The young man was in pain, though he would never admit he had caused it himself. He would rather blame the world for his downfall than accept the fact that he had screwed up his own life out of some stupid self-destructive impulse he couldn't even explain, not even to his own secret heart.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Scooby yelled, running forward. Benny turned at the sound of his voice, just in time to catch Scooby's elbow right in the chest.

Ashley watched as Scooby and Benny grappled. He wanted them to stop, but he didn't really know what to do. He had never had to fight before. In the Pit he was a therapon and the Master's beloved, no one would ever dare to stand against him.

"You fucking queer!" Benny screamed, slamming Scooby against the wall. The back of Scooby's head bounced with a heavy "thunking" sound.

Climbing to his feet, Ashley felt a terrible rage suffuse him. He had never been struck in his life and he didn't like it. Then to watch Scooby be abused... There was a feeling of something powerfully strong moving inside of him, an immensity that shifted and flexed with a sort of timeless strength.

Without a word, he reached out and grabbed Benny by his shoulders and swung him around to face him. "You're not very nice," Ashley said. Then punched him in the stomach.

He had never hit anyone before. It was strange, the almost enjoyable impact of his fist against yielding flesh. Breath blew out of Benny's lungs and he flew backward. Ashley hadn't hit him that hard, but his strength was far beyond a mere human's.

Scooby climbed unsteadily to his feet, one hand held to his face where blood was seeping between his fingers from his nose. He was pale and weak looking, but there was a glitter to his eyes. "Wow, Ashley, you really showed him what for."

"What?"

Scooby shook his head and waved a hand. It didn't matter.

"What happened here?" Quiche asked, coming into the hall. He and Freddy had stopped a moment to share a cigarette with one of the security guards.

"Ashley knocked him out," Scooby said, standing over Benny's supine form. His nose was pouring blood and his lower lip was split, but he looked like he was about to go into a barbarian victory dance.

Freddy looked from Benny to Ashley, respect in his eyes. "Wow, that's unexpected. Sure, Benny isn't exactly tough, but you... well, don't take this the wrong way Ashley, but you don't look all that strong."

Ashley felt color stain his cheeks. He wasn't sure hitting people was such a good thing, but he would never forget that strange thrill that had filled him as his fist struck Benny.

"Look at that asshole," Scooby said, nudging Benny with the toe of one sneaker. His lip curled. "We better get him out of here before he comes to and causes more trouble."

Quiche made a face. "I'll be right back," he said. He jogged back down the hall and returned a few minutes later with two muscular men, their black tee shirts stretched across their chests almost to the point of bursting. "Get him out of here," Quiche said, gesturing at Benny.

"Sure," one of the bouncers said. They each took an arm and hauled Benny away as though he was a bag of garbage. His boot heels dragged the ground and he hung limp between them. There was something broken about him, all of the spirit sucked away until only the body was left. Ashley could be almost sad about that.

"Well, that's the end of that," Freddy said.

"No," Scooby said. "The only way we're ever going to get rid of him is if he dies. He's never going to let this thing go."

INTERLUDE

October 2004

Happy Halloween, youse ghouls!

Stay straight and don't drop out of school.

The Impotentia Papers

e-x-p-a-n-d-e-d

REVIEWS FROM THE EDGE:

==MOVIES==

Dark Dreams of Dracula, reviewer BLACK SHADOW--734 words

Parsimonious Blues, reviewer MONKEY LOVER--220 words

Orange Blossom in Twilight Dragon Tea, reviewer GEEK BOY (note from the Geek: it's a movie straight from China so only the subtitled version is available for you English-speaking FREAKS!

Huzzah, Geek Boy pisses on your bones. Vicious love.)--3,467 words

==MUSIC==

Black Rose, reviewer MONKEY LOVER--210 words

Gypsy Luv, reviewer LIL' NEMO--528 words

P-51, reviewer LIL' NEMO--466 words

Nectar, reviewer BLACK SHADOW--485 words

==BOOKS==

Gothic Dreams, reviewer JASPER THE JACKASS--427 words

Mentholated Chocolate, reviewer GEEK BOY--999 words

Sycophants and Psychopaths: Behind the Scenes of the Church of Demosene, reviewer(s) GOTHIC LOVE TOY and JASPER THE JACKASS (note from The Edge: two reviewers giving opposing and supposing views of the same thing. N'yummy.)--437 words & 648 words

P-51, reviewer LIL' NEMO

Welcome to the new age of wonder and the complete allure of a new kind of entertainment--actual good music, if you can believe that such a thing could exist in this hell-world we live in.

In a middle of nowhere kind of place that no one would ever think to visit and that I dread even the thought of living in, there's a wonderful new band called P-51. And though the name gives the impression that they would be completely... lame, they are not.

Fronted by a beautiful dreamer, the kind of guy that everyone dreams of having as a friend, a gentle soul that I can only wish I had met first; P-51 is going famous. They've come up with some unique music, and they have a willingness to experiment--and not the kind that you're probably thinking ::wink, wink:: Nope, they appear to be riding the straight and narrow, and I can only be glad. I am tired of having to come up with a new favorite music-hero after the singer of my current favorite song overdoses on $2 crap I wouldn't plunger out of my toilet...

Anyways, I am lovin' P-51, though I am strenuously begging them to change their name to something more bearable. At the very least, stop sounding like a bunch of 25｢ hookers potting your wares on the side of the street. Come on gang, you can come up with something a little more original, something more likely to match the complete wondrousness of your music.

I am loving Ashley Valentine--he is a wet-dream come true. I am betting that all of the girls will unite in shouting his name with me... "Ashley Valentine!!!" And if you hate him, you're a loser. That's right, a grandstanding lo-oo-ser with a capital "L" on your forehead. Because not only is he great eye-candy, but his VOICE is to die for, so damned beautiful that it makes me want to cry my eyes out and swear off sex with anyone but him.

Come on Ashley, be my god. I would willingly fuck your voice, but the whole package makes me happy to.

This is Lil' Nemo signing off with a loverly, loverly day planned. I am dragging my ass down to that slutty little back-of-nowhere dump, the Big Bull Inn ::cackle, snort:: where I will listen to the glorious Ashley for as long as I possibly can. Then, when the set is done, maybe I'll beg him for a personal performance ::snicker:: I just can't resist his red hair, sunny-gold skin and beautiful voice. He is the dream. Who'd of thunk such a wonder could be born into this dark and dreary world of ours where Freedom and Democracy are regularly associated with the trash factory that is humankind. Wow.

Timeless

ERUSIDAMUS

Loneliness was not something He had ever known. When it finally came to Him He was unused to such a thing and had no way to cope. The dark spirit just flowed into Him until He wanted to rage and weep and lie on the ground with the world rolling over Him unnoticed.

He sat on His throne in the Palace of Gold and stared off into space. There was a pain deep in the heart of Him that felt so large surely it would swallow Him whole.

"Oh Ashlevarnis, how could you do this to Me?" He whispered into the silence. He was feeling things He had never imagined. His heart ached in His chest and tears burned in His eyes. "Where have you gone, My beloved?" He covered His face with His hands. "Where have you gone?"

He could still feel the stunned surprise that had filled Him when He had found Ashlevarnis gone. The complete pain that had overtaken Him when He realized that His lover had left of his own freewill.

He had never imagined that Ashlevarnis would ever leave. And had certainly never thought that it would be such a terrible agony.

The Palace of Gold didn't shine so bright as it always had. It was still beautiful, but there was something empty to it, or maybe it was just that there was an emptiness in Him. All of the joy had been sucked out of the world, the color bleached and faded, everything that had been special was gone.

From the first moment He had seen Ashlevarnis, life had seemed brighter and more real than ever before. It had seemed as though a switch had been flipped somewhere, turning the lights on and making the world shiny and new again.

He could still remember the first time He had seen Ashlevarnis, a wriggling infant with a cherubic beauty untroubled by tears and anger. In all of the years of his life, Ashlevarnis had never lost that passivity and calm disposition. He had grown up to be a sweet-tempered person that would rather die than hurt anyone else.

So where is he? a little voice whispered in the back of Erusidamus' mind.

Thinking about Ashlevarnis' disappearance, He knew that it must have something to do with that rapscallion Franciscus. Ashlevarnis would never have left on his own; he just didn't have that kind of foolhardy bravery in him. He always thought every single moment out, testing the waters before he swam, making sure a situation was completely safe before he acted. He would never have leaped blindly into a new life.

When Erusidamus had first discovered Ashlevarnis' relationship with the serf He had been enraged. But after weeks of seeing that they were merely friends and nothing more, He had allowed it. Now He knew that it had been a mistake, one that He was regretting.

He had known from the first that Franciscus was trouble, and He had done nothing. After Ashlevarnis was gone, all He could do was rage and blame Himself and the world for His loss.

Erusidamus had never realized how much Ashlevarnis meant to Him, not until it was too late. Now all He could do was try to find him and bring him back where he belonged.

"Master," a nervous voice said.

He lifted His head and looked over to the door.

The therapon looked frightened. Erusidamus had been in a terrible mood since Ashlevarnis' disappearance and all of His servants were afraid of what He might do to them in a fit of pique. To disturb Him in the mood He was in was tantamount to committing suicide. This servant was braver than was perhaps smart, but was loyal with it.

"Yes?" Erusidamus asked, raising an eyebrow. He barely held His roiling emotions in check, trying to make Himself normal and unaffected. As though the loss of Ashlevarnis wasn't tearing Him apart, just ripping huge chunks out of His heart and soul.

"Master, news has come about Ashlevarnis," Darnigo said, hesitantly stepping into the Great Hall, tasseled blue slippers making no sound on the tiled floor.

Erusidamus jerked upright on His throne. "Where is he?"

The therapon proffered a slip of parchment. "A messenger from Master Versorocrate brought this, Sire."

The Master snatched the note and quickly read it, His eyes drinking in the words of His salvation. Immediately His heart began to pound and His breath quickened.

Ashlevarnis, He thought. Light had returned to the world.

November 2005

INTERLUDE

The lobby of a fancy hotel, the furniture so beautifully crafted that it almost looked foolish compared to the casually dressed rock stars sitting on it. Instead of looking sub-par themselves, they made the things around them look somehow ridiculously overdone. It was almost funny.

Jeremy "Silent-Bob" Malucci and Frederick "Freddy" Graham shared one end of the couch, while Victor "Quiche" Lanzecki held the other. In the middle, side by side, sat Gregor "Scooby" Edinborough and the brilliantly glowing Ashley Valentine looking almost too beautiful in the eye of the camera. It took all of Milita Danvers' will not to squirm in her chair across from Ashley--he was just so damn good-looking. She hadn't believed anyone could really be that beautiful, but here he was. If even a model-turned-talk-show host was stunned by his looks, he really had to have something special.

"So, how are you coping with your instantaneous fame? You went from being nobodies to being musical icons practically overnight. How does it feel?"

Scooby looked at Ashley before he answered for the group. "Well, it's a little strange. We never expected to become so famous so fast. I mean, we knew we had something pretty wonderful, but it was a little surprising that anyone else thought it was too. We thought we were going to be dwelling in obscurity for a while longer. It was a real head spin when we got so famous, so fast, wasn't it, guys?"

Freddy grinned into the camera, all charm and piercings, tattoos crawling out of the short sleeves of his olive green bowling shirt. "I was ****ing shocked out of my mind. I thought we were going to spend at least a ****ing year scrabbling in the muck and the mud. I about **** my pants the first time I heard us on the radio. It was so ****ing unexpected."

Milita looked at Ashley Valentine. He was so pure sitting there that she half-expected him to fall over in shock at his band mate's language, but he didn't even blink hard.

He was wearing black leather pants and a long-sleeved orange turtleneck shirt that fit like a second skin, the tips of his dark red hair frosted with a yellow-orange that matched his trademark sunglasses. He sat with his legs carefully together, his hands clasped atop his knees. He didn't look like a mad-rocker or anything approaching a musical guru, not like the rest of the breed that spent most of their free time banging groupies. He looked too sweet for his own good, way too innocent to be so famous and universally loved--he needed more time to mature into the role, time to better realize when people were telling lies or truth. He was a sheep wrapped up in sexiness shoved out into a pack of horny wolves.

"Ashley Valentine, the whole world is wondering about your accent. Where are you from, and are there more there like you?" Milita asked.

The singer seemed uncomfortable. He shifted a little and drew in a quick breath before leaning forward to pick his can of Coke up off the table in front of him. He sipped slowly, then looked right at Milita, the light shining off the yellow-orange lenses of his glasses. "I don't really know why the world should care where I'm from. Suffice it to say, I live here now, and I've someplace where I can feel that I belong. I have friends that are almost a family for me, and though I miss the people I've left behind, I can't go back, so that's that, and I let it go." His charming accent was in full evidence as he spoke. The camera was eating him up as the feed went out live. Millions of people were watching these moments, most of them absorbing their first view of Ashes and Bones and its delicious front man. There were plenty of fans out there that had been into the band for the music but that were now getting an eyeful of Ashley Valentine and loving it completely. He was made for adoration.

"I... sometimes I think about going back... back home," he said. Scooby looked at him with something almost like shock. He obviously hadn't known Ashley was thinking anything like that. "But I've let that life go, and I guess I'm happy here. Like Franciscus says, 'We have come to this land of wonders and newness, and until we have seen all there is to see, we shall stay our hour and a day before we return home again.' Well, thinking of it like that, we've only been here about ten minutes, and there's a bit of time left before I ever seriously consider going home."

"Who is Franciscus?" Milita asked.

Ashley smiled, such a gentle, sweet expression that she couldn't help but be surprised. "Franciscus is my best friend. He's the one that talked me into coming here, and he's the one that introduced me to Scooby. It's because of Franciscus that I'm a part of Ashes and Bones. I guess I'm grateful to him for giving me the music. And since this is going out live, I'd like to say: Supachevos, Franciscus. Ego tuto iz vos quod rattovous, meus fanzeran amicus. Ku enasyer imbibia dae vou ego."

"What does that mean?" Milita asked excitedly.

"I just said that he was my friend and that I will pay for the drinks next time. He ought to enjoy that. If there's anyone in the universe that knows how to squeeze a buck, it's Franciscus. The words 'miser' and 'tight-fist' were made for him." Ashley laughed, but it wasn't mean.

Scooby nudged Ashley. "That's Franciscus down to a tee! The first time I met him, he made me pay for the drinks. If he hadn't invited me to dinner the next night I would have been pissed, but since I got to meet you and you put the band on the map..." He pumped the air with a fist. "Go Franciscus! You rock, man!"

"That's so archaic," Quiche said with a laugh. "Still, that's definitely Franciscus. The guy has a serious problem with sharing and being generous. He could take lessons from Ashley."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ashley asked, leaning forward to look around Scooby so he could see Quiche.

The drummer grinned. "I don't know how to tell you this, man, but you're definitely a bit too trusting on first meeting people. You'd offer the shirt off your back if someone gave you enough of a sob story." He looked at Milita and shrugged. "I guess now we're famous we're going to have to keep a closer eye on Ashley. He might just give himself away to the first person that asks and we'll never see him again. He needs a keeper."

"Hey, that's not very nice!" Ashley complained.

"But it's ****ing true," Freddy said, laughing. "We gotta keep a close watch on you, 'cause there's a real fear some crazy ****er's gonna offer you candy and pull you into their van and you'll disappear like that." He snapped his fingers. "You're way too ****ing trusting. It's lucky we love you, man, 'cause without us watching over you like twenty-four ****ing hours a day, you'd be out in the **** house without two cents to rub together."

Ashley looked at Scooby. "Is that true? Am I too trusting?"

"I don't know." Scooby shrugged. "You're just a little naive about the real world, that's all, but maybe that's why we all like you so much. You're a whole lot realer than a lot of people out there, and I for one don't want you to lose that thing that makes you, you. I mean, you're Ashley Valentine, and that's who I want you to be. I don't want you to become cold and uncaring just because that's the way other people act."

Ashley beamed and laid a hand on Scooby's arm. "You're my friend, Scooby, and I'd never be cold and uncaring."

The cameraman zoomed in close on that hand on Scooby's upper arm, somehow making it seem like more of an intimate moment than it might have been. Dozens of ideas popped into the minds of those watching, but a lot just shrugged the touch off as friendship, while others delighted in wondering.

"Um, your self-titled first album has broken records with its sales. When can we expect your first video?" Milita asked.

Scooby propped his elbows on his thighs and latticed his fingers together under his chin as he took a breath. "We've been working on a video for 'Will I Be Alone,' but it's not going as well as expected."

"Yeah, who would have thought Ashley would be so ****ing camera shy?" Freddy cracked.

"Basically, we had an idea for the video, but it didn't quite happen the way it was supposed to and we had to start all over. We're all trying real hard to get the video done, but Quiche is in a bit of a brain-drain at the moment, which pretty much means our group IQ has dropped about a thousand points in the ideas department." Scooby sighed. "We might just dump the idea of a video for now. Maybe wait until our next album before we bother to try again, 'cause it's just too damn hard and none of us can deal with the stress. We really just don't need anymore headaches right now."

Milita shook her head a little disbelievingly. "I can't believe that you would really think about giving up on a music video. The world is desperate for a glimpse of you guys," of Ashley Valentine, "and no one's going to be exactly thrilled to be disappointed."

"Tough for them," Scooby said, sounding almost callous for a moment, then his usual easy-going guy attitude made its reappearance. "We all want to make a video, but it's a lot harder than it looks on TV. We'll keep trying, but if it really doesn't work out it'll just be too bad and we'll have to shrug it off 'til next time. Sorry to all the fans, but we're living people here and we can only take so much without cracking, and I for one don't want to end up in a nuthouse for the criminally high-blood pressured."

"Don't worry," Ashley said. "We're going to try our hardest to make a video. I am very excited about the whole thing and am willing to do anything to get it done." He smiled so sweetly that it wiped any notion of a double entendre from his words.

Scooby slapped Ashley on the shoulder. "You've gotta watch it with the promises, Ashley. If we can't pull together a video, tons of fans are going to be pissed at us and looking for blood to spill."

Ashley shrugged. "Oh well. We can always go to Japan and be hot young techno-pop stars. I'm not exactly wedded to this alterna-rock stuff."

For a minute Scooby looked so surprised that it was obvious Ashley didn't often tell jokes like that, then he laughed. "Dammit, you always do that to me. I can just see you up on the stage in your shiny silver lounge lizard jacket and black bicycle shorts with your hair teased out at all angles... then again, I can also see myself, and it scares me greatly."

"What the **** are you talking about?" Freddy demanded.

Quiche grinned at him. "Well, you know how much of a fan Scooby is of anime. I remember watching that Gravitation flick with him... Shuichi Shindo is the 'center' of a band in the show and when he's performing he wears a long, bright yellow vinyl jacket, black bicycle shorts and a black belly-barer shirt. He looks a bit like Jubilee from the X-Men, except he's a guy and he doesn't have superpowers... not to mention the pink hair."

"I always liked it at the end of the thirteenth episode when he appears at his concert wearing a leather collar around his neck. It just kind of slams the last of the nails in his coffin as a bona fide leather-boy-in-waiting." Scooby laughed and rubbed a finger under his nose. "I've always been into movies starring bands, and though I'm not completely into the whole gay-theme of the show, the Mad Soldiers provided some good music for the band--the songs 'Rage Beat' and 'Sleepless Beauty' sounded pretty good. I've got no idea what they're saying and I'm not usually into pop-rock music, but I like them a lot."

"You are such a nerd," Quiche said. "I don't know why I've been your friend for so long, you just don't fit the mold of any kind of rocker, but I guess I'm stuck with you forever now that we've got a chart-hopping band. We are so beyond the whole P-51 thing that it's a wonder we don't implode from the pressure we're gonna have to bear."

"Whatever happens, we're in this together, and that's gotta mean something," Scooby said.

"Yeah!" Ashley flashed perfect teeth in a smile so wide his eyes almost disappeared into his cheeks. "We're gonna have fun and make music! How can life get any better than this?"

Sitting there, they were the portrayal of a well-oiled music-producing machine. They were all young and talented and driven to create the music the world loved so well. Nothing could stop them. They were living the dream of musicians everywhere, and just looking at their faces there was no sadness or regrets to see, just the wonder of a charmed life.

December 2005

ASHLEY

His life in the Pit had never prepared him for this new world. Nothing could have.

The mortals treated him as a god, screaming out his name whenever he was near. They wanted to touch him and get as close as they could. He thought that they would have liked to crawl into his flesh and consume him from the inside out, would have if they could. They wanted him so bad that it was a burning against his skin, a flavor of overripe strawberries that tingled against his tongue, vibrating with the need they felt for him.

Everything was strange and a little frightening, but exciting at the same time. He had bodyguards around him always and he was never completely alone, people hovering around him constantly. They all just wanted to get as close to him as possible--to breathe his air and caress his soul with their emotions, hoping that he would deign to notice them each and every one. As though receiving his attention would in some way fulfill them, making them complete as normal life never had.

He had never imagined that people would love him so much that they could be dangerous, but that was how things were. These mortals would tear him apart out of love. He couldn't understand it. It frightened him, even as it titillated his every sense, made his heart pound with the thrill of their joy, their emotions ringing through the vaults of his mind, calling him out of the emptiness he had felt since leaving the Master.

"Ashes and Bones!" the audience chanted. "Ashes and Bones! Ashes and Bones!"

As usual he was struck by the absurdity of it. The band had changed their name to "Ashes and Bones" at Franciscus' suggestion. Which meant that the band was named after him, and he hadn't been clever enough to come up with a spur of the moment excuse that would stick. He rather thought that Franciscus was still laughing at the private joke he couldn't even explain to the rest of the band, the joke that had made Franciscus snort and giggle when suggesting the name, looking as mischievous as a little boy.

"Hey Ashley, are you ready to go out there?"

He turned and smiled at Scooby. "Of course. I'm always ready to sing."

"I know," Scooby said, "it's one of the reasons the fans love you so much. They can tell you love singing, and that it's not just a job for you."

Ashley felt a little self-conscious, but there was nothing he could say. "We will have a good show tonight," he finally said lamely.

Quiche cackled. "Aduh! With you we always have a good show. It's why we're number one!"

Ashley shrugged, feeling himself blush. He didn't know how to handle all of the praise they were always piling on him. It was something he had never known existed before and had certainly never experienced. He just didn't know how he was supposed to react to it all, didn't have the right set of emotional tools to deal with it gracefully. He always felt so awkward and strange, the adulation making him feel as though his skin barely fit his bones.

"Let's go out there and kick mass ass!" Freddy said, then laughed hysterically. "Heh, heh, it rhymed! I wasn't even trying and it rhymed!"

Scooby rolled his eyes and pulled a white "Spam" tee shirt down over his head. "Cut back on the amount of drugs he's putting away," he told Quiche. "We need him coherent and able to perform."

"Sh'yah," Freddy said, blowing his nose loudly into a wad of tissues. "I only had a little bit."

Scooby looked at him closely, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You listen up Fred: I don't care what you do with the rest of your life, but you keep your nose clean before we have our shows. We dropped Benny because he was fucking up. Don't you follow him."

Freddy's shoulders twitched and he nodded. "Yeah sure. I'm not gonna be fucking stupid."

"I hope not."

Ashley shifted his feet uncomfortably and wished he weren't here listening to this. He didn't think he should be listening to this. And from Quiche's expression, he wasn't comfortable being here either. There was nothing like Scooby acting all threatening and tough to make the world seem strange and out of focus. Usually Scooby could have been described as a benign cream puff, but when he was serious about the business, he was... serious.

"Come on, you guys," Quiche said, mock-cheerful, breaking into the tension of the moment. "We've got a show to do."

"Yeah," Scooby said, trying out a smile that didn't quite touch his eyes. "This is no time to bring ourselves down. The stage is just waiting for us, and the crowd is ready to be stroked."

Ashley relaxed and led the way out.

This was the way it was supposed to be: them stepping out there into the lights, absorbing the love of the fans, making wonderful music for hours and hours. He lived for the music; it was everything he had always thought it would be.

Bright lights illuminated the stage, and the crowd's cheering was almost deafening. There was something powerful about standing here, poised on the edifice of greatness. There was the possibility of anything happening now. The future was beckoning him onward, offering him the chance to have or do anything he wanted. Anything could happen in this moment, and the possibility thrilled him.

Ashley gazed out across all of those cheering, laughing, loving faces. Even the security who kept the crowd from rushing the stage were loving him. He could feel it all.

He found himself grinning, exultation filled his heart until there wasn't room for anything else. This was what he had been born for.

He made music.

"Hello, New York," he said into the microphone. "We're Ashes and Bones, and we're here for you."

"Ashes and Bones! Ashes and Bones!"

He took his singing stance, legs braced to hold him up, lungs expanded to give him breath. "Just for you, here's a new song written by Quiche. Hope you like." He nodded at the others and the music started, soft and slow and beautiful enough to bring a tear to the eye.

"The ocean is blue,

the night is dark,

my heart is alone

until I hear your voice.

I lie--staring up at a sky

so blue--it's like something out of a dream of you.

I know--I won't ever be alone,

as long as I can be with you.

Will you be there now

when I get home?

Will we share the skies

or will we be alone?

He let his voice fade into silence, then stood there, basking in their applause. It was a truly amazing sensation to be loved so much. He had never imagined anything like this.

He held his arms out to the crowd as though he was trying to embrace them all to him. He could feel their emotions pressing in on his mind, trying to merge with him. It was a wonderful sensation, a power and a joy, a completion of all he had ever been.

"Ashley!" "Ashes and Bones!" "Scooby!" "Quiche!" "Freddy!" "Ashes and Bones!" "Ashley!" The sound of the crowd was at the same time a thing of many parts and the cacophony of a single giant voice giving vent to every powerful feeling at once.

It was hard for him to know where he ended and the crowd began. Every part of it was inside of him. It was the most wonderful thing ever, that roaring undulating mass of life that had been created just for him. That monster beast that spent its breath crying out his name, proclaiming a boundless love for him that sent his heart thrumming in his chest and his mind soaring with the color of a million hopes and dreams and loves.

A smile covered his entire face as he led the way into the next song. He sent his voice soaring out into the air, watching the vibrations of the currents. He could taste the music on his tongue, salty-sweet and entirely perfect. It was better than candy, better than sex, better than anything he had ever felt before. It was the fulfillment of his dream, the secret wish that had allowed him to carry on through each and every day unbowed by the weight of his life.

With that beauty pouring out of him, an endless stream sent pooling out across the floor to flood the entire stadium, he felt the invigoration of the music. He was connected to the heart of the world, and that heart pounded with the sound of a trillion years worth of the universe's stored music. The life of a billion species' lived and died in that sound, the pains and joys of their living and dying giving power to his words and being.

The night was his.

He walked off the stage on wobbly legs. His heart was throbbing in his ears and sweat streamed down his face. His skin felt almost too small, stretched to the point of bursting. His hair lay flat against his head in sweaty straggles, tickling his scalp when the air touched it.

"Wow, Ashley, that was fabulous!"

He grinned at Quiche and went into the dressing room.

The hall had been filled with people calling his name, trying to get his attention. There was a sort of peace in the dressing room, a silence not to be found anywhere else. He needed it.

Ashley sat on a stool in front of the mirror and stared at himself. It wasn't something he did often, so when he did do it, he paid attention, trying to see everything that was there.

He knew that people saw him as beautiful, but he couldn't really see it for himself. Whenever he saw his reflection he could only see the boy he really was. There was nothing glaringly special about him, no resounding wondrousness to dazzle the eye. So why did all of these humans scream his name with such a passionate fervor? What was it they saw in him to make them dream of heaven in his eyes? It was strange, a puzzle he feared he would never solve.

Among his own kind he was still a child. It would be hundreds of years yet before he would be considered an adult. Until then he would be nothing but a youngling. There was something vaguely dissatisfying about that. Every child wanted to grow up fast and live a long life peppered with never ending excitement, and he still had a long wait ahead of him before he could truly be considered an adult. In the view of his kind, he wasn't even a teenager yet.

Ashley took off his glasses and stared into his reflected eyes, trying to see what was there, who he was.

For his time in the Mortal Realm he had been forced to wear orange-tinted glasses. They were fashionable and had become part of his image, yet their true purpose was not to be a fashion statement, but to hide his entirely inhuman eyes. It had been one of the first things he had learned: humans didn't have yellow eyes. They had eyes of gray or brown or black, colors he had never even imagined having himself, not really.

He had been forced to cover his eyes, but he was lucky. Because of his impure blood, Franciscus had a pair of tiny horns on his forehead that he had to comb his hair over. So he ended up having to hide both his eyes and his horns. It was extremely vexing for him to always have to hide and be careful about how much of himself he showed. So Ashley knew he was lucky.

He smiled at himself in the mirror. His eyes sparkled back at him, and he had to think that maybe he really was as beautiful as everyone else thought him. He had known from his first moment that he was attractive--it was a genetic trait of his kind--but maybe he truly was one of the best of the best. It was a kind of startling thought and he didn't know what to do with it. It wasn't as though he had a pocket in his shirt where he could store his thoughts like pens.

"You cut your hair," a soft voice--completely unexpected--said from behind him.

Ashley whirled around, his eyes wide. "Master!"

The Master crossed the room to stand right in front of him, looking down. Ashley could feel those eyes on him, examining him closely, absorbing him into their gemlike brilliance.

He gazed up at the Master, not quite believing that this was real. "Why are You here?" his voice cracked mid-word and he felt all of his muscles go tense. He didn't know what was going to happen--didn't know if he was going to be punished or loved. A part of him could wish to be accepted back into the Master's embrace, but a lot of him loved the music too and was afraid of what was going to happen. The Master was not well-known for His forgiving nature and angering Him one time was usually all of the chance a person got.

There didn't seem to be a powerful rage on His face, but He was well practiced at hiding His emotions. "I came for you," the Master said, reaching out to touch Ashley's face gently. "I never knew how much you meant to Me until you were gone. I want you back with Me where you belong."

Ashley's breath caught and he felt sudden tears fill his eyes. He had never thought to hear such words.

From the first, he had loved the Master with every particle of his being. It had been such an honor and a joy to be chosen to belong to the Master directly. His heart had soared up into his throat and he had felt as though he was going to lift up and fly away. He had been happier than ever before, the new emotion of being possessed quickly taking hold in his soul, making him feel safe and protected. He had wanted to lie in the warmth of the Master's embrace forever, never again to be alone.

Now, hearing the Master tell him that he had been missed when he was gone and that He wanted him back, Ashley felt that same wonder. But suddenly, it wasn't enough.

He had loved being the Master's favorite, but here in the Mortal Realm he had learned to be more than that. He had learned to sing and make a life for himself. He had become an individual of depth, a person with his own dreams and aspirations, not just the beautiful but simple pawn he had always been.

He didn't say anything, just stared into the Master's yellow-orange eyes. He didn't know what to say. He really and truly loved the Master and didn't want to hurt Him even just the tiniest bit.

The Master took his hand. Heat filled him, radiating up his arm from the very tips of his fingers. Everything suddenly seemed extremely bright, and he found it a little hard to breathe.

"Come back with Me," the Master said softly. "You belong in the Palace of Gold, Ashlevarnis. You belong with Me."

"My name is Ashley," he said, pulling his hand away, feeling a little regretful, but not showing it. He could not allow himself to appear weak; strength was the only thing the Master respected, even from those that He could crush with utter ease. "I cannot come with You, no matter how much a part of me wants to. I am a music-maker here. And even if it is a sweet captivity, how can I go back to being just Your concubine?"

The Master's face twisted. "Do not come back as My concubine. Come back as My consort."

"Master!"

"My name is Erusidamus, and I love you. Come with Me. I cannot stand to be without you." The words sounded real, His pain and desire emanating from Him as truth.

Tears filled Ashley's eyes and his mouth trembled. "Why would You want me? I am nothing but a therapon. You should have another Master, someone worthy of Your greatness."

The Master shook His head. "I only want you. Come back with Me, Ashley. Do not leave Me alone."

"Oh, oh, oh," Ashley moaned, clutching his chest. He stared into the Master's eyes and what he saw there made him quiver inside. His heart hurt.

"I... I..." He had to stop and catch his breath. "I want almost more than anything to go with You, but I also like my life here. I need time to think."

The Master looked at him sadly. "I know. At least you did not just say no. I do not know what I would have done then." He paused. "Just say My name once, please. I need to hear it from your sweet lips."

Ashley drew in a shuddering breath. "Erusidamus ." It came out almost like a prayer, reverent. Everything that he felt was in that one word, the emotion spilling out from between his lips, no matter that he wished he could retain some semblance of control. But that was how he had always been when the Master was near--a willing servant, each beat of his heart for the Master alone.

A smile spread across Erusidamus' lips. "You said My name!" There was something almost funny about the look on His face. Strangely, Ashley felt no urge to laugh.

He felt himself leaning forward, and the next thing he knew he was standing and enclosed in a warm embrace. He breathed in the scent of flowers and spices that was the Master. It made his heart pound and joy fill him. This was where he belonged, enclosed in these two arms and this powerful love.

"Your hair is still pretty," Erusidamus said into his ear, "but I will miss your long flowing locks."

Ashley smiled tremulously. "Maybe someday I will grow it long for You."

"That signifies we will have a someday together," said almost shyly in a purring voice. That someone so strong could be sweet was a miraculous thing.

"Maybe we will."

They held onto each other, neither wanting to be the first to let go. They both knew that this moment could not last, but as long as they ignored the passage of time, perhaps they could have this forever.

"I love You, You know that," Ashley finally said, blinking tears from his eyes.

"And I love you."

ERUSIDAMUS

There was a joy in holding the single person that He loved close. To hold onto Ashley gave Him a sense of completion. It was like nothing He had ever experienced before, and He never wanted to lose it.

This is an entirely strange bit of emotion, He thought, tightening His grip on Ashley. He could feel Ashley's bones through his skin. Could feel the warmth and life in Ashley and it made His heart pound. In all of the times that He had held Ashlevarnis, He had never treasured the moment as He did now, knowing that it could end at the exhalation of any breath.

"What am I going to do without you?" Erusidamus asked.

Ashley pulled back a little and looked up at Him. "I have loved You every single day of my life, and I always will." Tears shimmered in Ashley's eyes. His voice was like honey, so beautiful it made the Master's heart ache.

They held each other close, wishing that they could be like this forever, but knowing that it could not last. Life was going on around them and eventually it would interfere.

The dressing room door slammed open and they jerked apart.

"Hey man, I gotta talk to Ashley real quick. See ya later!" a dark haired boy yelled over his shoulder. He turned around and came into the room, carrying that particular human musk in with him.

Erusidamus wrinkled His nose and put about a foot and a half between Himself and Ashley. A human seeing Him might have thought He moved away from His lover out of some misplaced shame, but really He was giving Himself room to strike. If danger dared to approach him, He was well prepared to kill to keep Ashley safe.

"Whoo, you wouldn't believe..." The boy stopped, his eyes coming to rest on the Master. "Who are you?" There was such open hostility in the words that Erusidamus couldn't speak. He had never had anyone talk to Him like that before. Everyone always treated Him with carefully formal politeness, knowing that He could extinguish a life without a single ounce of strain. His was a power to be respected, and He had become used to receiving the adoration of His followers and the fear of His enemies. Rudeness was not something He regularly had to deal with.

All He could do was stare at the boy. He had never had anyone instantly dislike Him. It was a strange experience, and He was fairly certain that He did not like it.

ASHLEY

He covered his mouth in shock.

"You can't be back here," Scooby said, glaring at Erusidamus belligerently. There was suddenly something almost dangerous about the boy, but that could only be seen as a joke. No mere human would ever be strong enough to take on the Master of Gold. "This is a restricted area, band only."

Fear went through Ashley. It would be a bad idea to make the Master angry, and Scooby could easily push the point in his ignorance. "He's here with me!" he practically shouted. "He's from my home and has come to visit."

Scooby backed off, but still glared at the Master. "How the fuck did he get back here? The guards on the door should have kept him out."

Ashley shrugged. "He came to visit me, so they let Him in."

"Well, I was going to talk to you," Scooby said, "but it can wait. I'll talk to you later." He left, but he kept shooting dirty looks over his shoulder at the Master. The door closed behind him with a reproachful sounding "thud."

"He loves you."

Ashley started at those quiet words. "What do You mean?" he asked.

"He loves you and wants to protect you," Erusidamus said. "It is really rather cute. Really."

Ashley looked at Erusidamus. There was a strange look on the Master's face. It was a look that Ashley had never seen there before and didn't know how to recognize. "What is wrong? He did not offend You, did he?"

Erusidamus shrugged His shoulders. "Of course not. How could a human affect Me? It is tantamount to saying that a bug could stand against Me and win."

Ashley let out a breath in relief. He didn't know what he would have done to stop Erusidamus if the Master had decided to destroy Scooby. He thought that maybe he would have ended up just standing by and watching, then carrying a bitter spark in his heart ever after, knowing that there was nothing he could have done and hating himself for it. Though he knew that he was not as strong as he could be, in a way he despised weakness almost as much as the Master did.

"He loves you, but that does not matter. What matters is do you love him?" Erusidamus' eyes were sharp on him. There was something in their depths that he couldn't understand, but that he didn't really like.

"Of course I love him," Ashley said. "He makes music with me."

The Master smiled, but it didn't touch His eyes. "Of course. Of course."

Ashley looked closely at Erusidamus, but he didn't know what he was trying to see. "You are going to have to go back soon, are You not?" he said. "They will miss You if You are gone too long."

The Master nodded. "I will be needed back home, but I promise you that I will be back, after you have had a chance to think."

"How long will You give me?" Ashley asked.

"As long as you need. When you have decided what you are going to do, call My name and I will come. No matter what your decision is."

Ashley smiled a little. "I love You."

"I love you as well. I never thought that I would ever feel this way, but I cannot stop it now that it is here. I never want to let you go." There was such pain in that great voice that Ashley couldn't help but to grab the Master's hand and press it against his cheek. He could feel a heartbeat through the palm, steady and strong.

He gazed up at the Master, unshed tears pooling in his eyes. "There is so much that I want to say to You, but I do not have the words."

Erusidamus cupped his cheek warmly, His thumb stroking gently across Ashley's jaw. "You do not need to say anything. I can feel what is inside of you and it warms Me in a way that I have never experienced before. You are My heart and soul. I cannot bear to lose you."

"I will call You when I have decided what I am going to do," Ashley said, reluctantly letting that hand go.

"I suppose that means it is time to say goodbye."

"Just for now."

Erusidamus looked so sad that Ashley wanted to hug Him again, but he knew that he couldn't. If he wrapped his arms around the Master, he would never let go.

"Please, make your decision soon," Erusidamus said, almost pleading. He backed away. "The moment you call Me, I will be here."

Ashley's eyes were awash with tears when the Master discorporated and disappeared. There wasn't even a wisp of smoke left to hold onto. He was just gone.

"Oh Master!" Ashley cried. Sobs forced their way up out of his throat, and he fell to his knees, hunched in on himself as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It hurt so bad.

FRANCISCUS

It was hard to really know how he recognized the moment when the Master was in the Mortal Realm, but he knew it all the way down to his soul. His bones throbbed with the reality of that presence, reflecting back the energy of the Master a thousand times stronger, thrusting that power straight into his heart, where it lodged, vibrating with a painful joy that the Master truly existed.

Lying on the couch in front of the flickering TV, he felt tears trickle down the sides of his face and into his ears.

He closed his eyes tightly and clenched his teeth, trying to hold back the sadness and grief. It was just so hard; the feelings out of control, welling up out of that dark space in his soul he had tried for so long to block up tight. All of the emotions and yearnings he had left his own world to set aside were rebirthed inside of him with the realization that the Master was in the Mortal Realm.

Though he had tried to set aside his feelings, he couldn't help himself. He had always dreamed of and wanted the Master. It had been part of him since the first moment he drew breath. He and all of the other serfs had been made to work extra hard, all for a single glimpse of the much loved Master.

He had tried to forget his feelings, but in that single instant when he knew the Master was on this world, his heart had sped up and all of the feelings he had tried to bury deep down inside had come back full strength, overpowering him. They gushed out of him until that was all there was: his feeling for the Master--the Master that would never love him.

From the first moment that he had known who Ashley truly was he had battled an overwhelming jealousy. Ashley was one of those personally chosen by the Master. He wasn't just a supremely beautiful pureblood--he was the Master's favorite plaything. And all Franciscus had was a single glimpse, all that he had been allotted in his entire life, the only joy he had been given, a reward that was supposed to tide him over for an eternity.

He had tried not to think of Ashley buried in the Master's embrace. Had tried not to think of those two beautiful beings merging together into one, while he was always alone, standing on the outside watching, so empty inside that sometimes he couldn't find the tears to cry. There was just an unspeakable pain that went so deep it ripped the heart out of him and made his bones tremble and his blood burn in his veins as acid.

Franciscus clenched his teeth and cried. He wanted the tears and the pain and the burning in his throat to stop, but there was nothing he could do about it. All of those powerful feelings were back inside of him and he no longer had any defenses against them. He was helpless to what he was feeling. He was helpless to the Master.

"Oh, why could You not have been mine?" he moaned. There was no answer, just the fake laughter of the people on TV, mocking him for his feelings, mocking his pain.

Leaving the Pit had given him the chance to make a new life. To become someone else, someone that he had never met before. But just the fact that the Master was walking the world made the pain grow inside of him until he couldn't even swallow.

And when the Master left, he felt that too, and it was a pain beyond anything he had ever imagined. An agony that would never leave him--even the memory of it would rip him apart inside.

There had been a light in the world, and now it was gone. The sun would never shine again so brightly, and there would never be such a joy in his heart that it would be almost a pain. He would never feel the glory of the Master's radiance against his skin. He had left the Pit and there was no going back.

SCOOBY

The man that had been with Ashley just wouldn't leave his mind.

Anger and jealousy roiled in his belly and he could feel his muscles trembling. He couldn't sit still and paced the confines of his dressing room, fighting the urge to race back to Ashley's side and face down that... that... weirdo .

Be serious. You saw that guy; he was beautiful.

With someone like that, why would Ashley ever want you?

He threw himself on his stool and looked at himself in the mirror. There wasn't much to see, just dark hair and a round face. He had to turn away after a second. He couldn't meet his own eyes.

His mind turned to that guy with Ashley. He had been something else, that was for sure. He was beautiful with long golden-blond hair liberally threaded through with strands of red. He had braided it so it hung down his back like a golden rope. His skin had that same warm gold cast as Ashley's, making Scooby think of sunlight and warm summer days.

Just seeing him, Scooby had known suddenly that the man was the reason why he would never have Ashley for himself, that the man belonged with Ashley in a way he never would. It had felt like a piece of himself had shattered. He had just felt so damn empty inside. Then had come the realization that he would always be alone, there would never be anyone for him because he wasn't good enough. He wasn't the kind of person that deserved

love. He was the scum hidden beneath a large rock. He was nothing.

Scooby raked a hand through his hair and drooped low on the stool, his spine melting into nothing, unable to hold him together anymore. All of the energy drained out of him and he felt like he would break if he were touched.

"What am I doing here?" he whispered. "What do I have to offer anyone? I'll never look like him ."

He hated that man. Hated him with a vengeance that surprised even him. He had never felt like this before. He half-expected his head to pop off and lava to come bubbling up.

He didn't even know the guy, yet already he hated him. There was just something about the thought of that man being with Ashley. It made him so angry and so jealous and so filled with rage that he could barely draw breath.

Who are you, you son-of-a-bitch? he thought viciously. I'll find out. Ashley will be mine.

He was a little frightened about what he was feeling, but he couldn't stop it. Every part of him yearned towards Ashley. The feelings had grown until that was all there was, and just the thought that that man he had seen with Ashley was anything more than a friend made his blood boil.

Gregor Edinborough, commonly called Scooby by those that knew him, was regularly a mild-mannered guy. He had always shrugged off the angers and frustrations of the world without really noticing what he was doing. But as he sat here, slumped on his stool, staring off into space, he was feeling things he had never experienced before.

He felt a love so powerful that it could almost be hate, and a hate so powerful it could almost be love. The two emotions had become so intermixed and confused that he could no longer express what he was feeling in words and thoughts. All he knew was that he wanted and he needed and he burned inside for things he could never talk about.

He had become something he had never thought he would be. He had become a lover and a fighter and a vengeance personified. And all of the feelings that were inside him were growing with each breath he took, and each thought that flickered through his mind only fed them.

He wanted Ashley so bad that he burned with it. Desire was sucked into his lungs with every breath to flow through his blood and pump out of his heart. His eyes ached and his throat was tight and there was a grinding in his belly that made him want to howl and gibber at the moon, a mad thing.

His life had never seemed to have a real purpose to it. The only thing he had ever truly wanted was to play guitar. But now that was all different. He had a reason to breathe. He had a reason to exist.

He wanted Ashley.

IGNIPATROS

Reveling in the glory of the moment. Breathing in the wonder of a trillion stars while sipping champagne from a glass shaped like a large seashell, all curlicues and hidden darkness.

She lazed on Her throne, dreaming Her secret dreams, thinking Her secret thoughts. An inexplicable yearning was growing in Her heart, a wish for fulfillment, an ending to the emptiness She felt somewhere inside.

For most of Her life She had had many different lovers at a time. She took Her lovers one by one, or sometimes, when the mood struck, She had mass orgies in the Main Hall of Her palace with the servants watching and cheering the excitement. There was nothing to the games She played, no deeper motive than pleasure, but now some other thought was entering into Her mind, some other need She had never experienced before, or if She had, it had come to Her in minute increments that were easily ignored.

She wanted something. A part of Her was crying out for a kind of fulfillment that Her normal sex-play could not satisfy. She wanted someone to hold onto and love. She wanted a single person that would be Her partner and companion through the ages, someone that would balance out Her strengths and weaknesses, someone that would complete Her.

If Ignipatros had ever known loneliness, She hadn't felt it for long. But now something was growing inside Her, a need that demanded satisfaction, a need that had grown in the dark recesses of Her being to such proportions that it could no longer be ignored. A biological imperative had been triggered and now could not be deactivated.

Children danced through Her mind, and Her body tingled with some imagined touch. She wanted and needed and She had never ignored Her own desires.

The world was about to be changed to fit Her whim.

ERUSIDAMUS

It was strange to feel this way. To know that somewhere out there in the universe lived and breathed the essence of His heart, completely separate from Him, beyond His reach.

He knew that if He wanted, He could be next to Ashley in a heartbeat. He could grab Ashley and drag him back to the Pit where he belonged. He knew He could do that, but He also knew that it would never work. All He would end up having would be Ashley's body, that wonderful spark gone, the love crushed by His high-handedness.

He could not force Ashley home. He had to wait patiently for Ashley to make up his own mind and come himself. He just had to hope and pray that it happened soon, before He lost His sanity and everything else that supposedly mattered.

Erusidamus sighed and rubbed His eyes, they felt gritty and sore. His body felt beaten, His mind tired.

He had tried to sleep, but whenever He closed His eyes, Ashley came drifting in through the open window of His mind. A wonderful incubus set on bringing His body to lonely satisfaction, leaving Him to wake up emptier and lonelier than before. He couldn't stand it.

When will you return to Me?

He thought. There was no answer. He hadn't expected one. Ashley was far across the universe on a whole other world, dreaming dreams that He could not even see, living a life that He could not touch.

Erusidamus had never experienced anything like this. He wanted Ashley here with Him so bad, but He knew that He couldn't force it. So He had to be patient even though He wanted to travel straightaway to the Mortal Realm and wrap His arms tight around Ashley and never let go. He wanted to crush Ashley against Himself, meld them together body and bone until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

His world had changed. There was no longer room in His skin just for Himself. Ashley was there too, filling His every thought, becoming every molecule of His being.

It was hard for Him to even believe it, but He had fallen in love. His heart beat for Ashley and it didn't even bother Him. He had been changed in inexplicable ways by the touch of Ashley, and He couldn't even find it in Him to be angry and frustrated. Just lonely and afraid that He would never have more than this--an endless passage of days spent waiting for something that would never come.

He should hate what this love had done to Him. He should be angry that it had dulled His edge and turned Him into one of those lovesick fools He had secretly mocked. He should be angry at Himself for what He had become, but the feeling was so powerful that it pushed everything else out.

Ashley had become the center of His every need and desire. Had become the breath He drew into His lungs and the hope of everything that He lived for.

He didn't know how it had happened, but He knew He needed Ashley, couldn't live without him. He needed Ashley perhaps more than Ashley needed Him. And if Ashley ever realized that fact...

He didn't know if He could bear the loneliness of not having Ashley. Didn't know if He could survive the rejection of Ashley denying Him. He desperately needed Ashley and would do anything to have him, anything at all.

Tears touched the backs of His eyes, wanting to fall though He held them in. He had to hope that Ashley would return to Him, that someday--soon--He wouldn't have to be so terribly alone. The emptiness inside of Him would be filled and color would return to the world. He could only hope.

SCOOBY

Love sucked more than he had ever imagined it would. He felt as though he was dying as day by day he was ignored, yet the feeling still grew within him. The emotion was eating him out of himself, and he hated it, even as he wouldn't have given it up for anything.

Scooby had begun to think that maybe Ashley didn't even know how he felt, that maybe if Ashley did know, he would hate him for the sickness growing inside him.

Ashley never seemed to look down on other people for the things they were, yet maybe he was hiding himself inside, like Scooby was. Maybe he secretly looked down on other people, mocking them for being overweight or weird or ugly. Maybe he was a closet bigot, his brain filled with wriggling worms of poison just waiting to be spilled out on the people around him. Maybe he knew how Scooby felt and hated him for it, disgusted that anyone so ugly could ever think such things about him.

Sure, Ashley was always nice and he never said anything mean, but he never seemed to notice the attraction Scooby felt for him either. He was never anything but friendly, and that hurt worse than any rejection ever could--because it made Scooby love him more.

Scooby had tried to quash the feelings rising within him, but he couldn't seem to help the love he felt. Ashley was just such a wonderful, beautiful, nice person. It was impossible not to love him.

Day by day, the love grew inside Scooby like a fungus, taking over his thoughts and driving him to contemplate things he would never have dreamed of even just a few months ago. Sometimes he felt as though the love was killing him. It was such a powerful feeling that it actually hurt. He didn't know if he could take much more of it.

Love sucked, it really did, especially when it wasn't reciprocated. Lonely love for a lonely soul driving himself toward the edge of destruction, hoping that someday the object of his affections would notice the feelings inside him. As though his forehead was made of glass and everything that he was, was right there to be seen and examined.

Scooby wished that he was beautiful so maybe Ashley would notice him. He knew he was kind of chubby and nerdy, certainly not the thing dreams were made of. But maybe if he was beautiful--at least as beautiful as that guy --Ashley would look at him and smile with that heart-stopping sweetness and say the words he longed to hear: "I love you."

Maybe.

January 2006

ASHLEY

Waves crashing against the shore, inevitable as nature. Gallons and gallons of salt water gaining force as it threw itself toward the land with heartless abandon. Diamond-edged sand was sucked back into the sea, only to be thrust higher onto the shore when the tide came in. The heavy, nose-burning smell of the salty, algae-laden seawater filled the air for miles around.

What is there to feel when the ability to describe emotion is suddenly lacking? What is the real difference between being happy and sad when the words that define them are no longer readily available?

He sat on the beach and stared out at the waves.

Ashes and Bones had become world famous. The music was everywhere and everyone was listening to it. He should have been ecstatic, but he was just too tired. There had been too many emotions in him and they had overloaded his senses until there was nothing left.

He had been forced to cut the tour short. He hadn't been able to go on. He needed the peace that only the sea could give him. That was why he had come back here to the first place he had lived in the Mortal Realm, the place that had introduced him to his new life. Maybe he hoped he could regain his equilibrium; regain the energy and personal power he had first felt when he had learned that he could make music here, that his dream was an attainable goal if he was willing to work for it.

Franciscus was in the house cooking up all sorts of different things he thought Ashley would like, but Ashley couldn't force himself to care. He was all empty inside, there was nothing left. He had used all of himself up.

Ashley watched yet another wave crash up against the shore and sighed. He didn't know what he was going to do. A part of him yearned for the nomadic life of a Mortal Realm music-maker, while the rest of him was desperate for the Master. He wanted to stay here and at the same time go home. Everything was so confused inside, the answers hidden away where he couldn't find them.

Erusidamus, his mind whispered. He had been entrusted with the usage of the Master's name, something that only a handful of people could boast. It made his heart flutter and his soul cry out. That the Master could think he was worthy of such an honor and familiarity.

He propped his chin on his hands and closed his eyes. It was getting cold out here, but he didn't want to go in just yet. It wasn't as though the cold could hurt him. It wasn't as if he were mortal.

"What should I do?" he asked the empty air.

Predictably, there wasn't an answer. He was on his own.

There was so much that he still wanted to do here in the Mortal Realm. But there was so much that he wanted to do back in the Pit too. And he knew that once he made his choice. All decisions were final, and he wouldn't be allowed to change his mind.

"Come inside Ashes!"

He turned his head and saw Franciscus standing on the veranda of the house. He looked small standing there, his arms resting on the railing, his hair being tousled by the breeze. He was small and faraway, fragile looking in his blue-gray sweater and jeans, his bare toes curling and uncurling on the stained wood of the porch.

"I'll be there in a minute!" Ashley called.

Franciscus nodded and went back inside, closing the sliding glass door behind him. He was almost obsessive about keeping the bugs and vermin out of the house. It should have been funny, but it was hard to laugh just now.

Ashley sighed.

He couldn't understand how he did it, but Franciscus was becoming inured to the Mortal Realm. It was as though he had always been here. Franciscus had gone native.

Ashley wished he could borrow just a little bit of Franciscus' newfound confidence. There was still so much about this world that he didn't understand. And ever since the Master's visit those differences had become glaringly obvious.

This world was so strange and he was afraid that he would never completely understand it. Yet there was something oddly appealing about it, something that drew him.

Maybe it was the fact that this world was new. There were things here that he had never seen in the Pit and never would. There were wonders that he had never even dreamed of, and he couldn't force himself to leave until he had seen them all.

Ashley stood and dusted off the seat of his pants. He felt as though all of the answers he was looking for were right there, buried beneath the waves. The only reason he couldn't see them was because he just didn't have the right kind of eyes.

He shook his head and headed back up the path toward the house. He could smell whatever Franciscus had cooked and it made his mouth water. He thought that maybe it was baked salmon, but he wouldn't know for sure until he was there, eating it.

He sat back in his chair, replete. He pushed his plate a little away from him and tossed his linen napkin on the table.

"That was delicious," he said.

Franciscus smiled, pleased. "Thanks. I thought you needed something to cheer you up, and you really like fish, so..." He shrugged.

Ashley looked at his friend. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"Aw, you'd get along just fine. I mean, you're only on this world for twenty-two months and already you're being worshipped as a god. That's pretty good, even for you."

"They're misguided," Ashley said. "They want so badly to believe in something that they grasp onto the first ideal that comes along."

"They're mortal," Franciscus said, then smirked. "And of course, we're not."

Ashley shook his head. "You're just so strange, Franciscus. Sometimes I think that it was a mistake for me to help you come to this world. The only thing you can do is corrupt the youth of this land to your own skewed sense of reality."

"Yep, and I'll enjoy it mightily." There was something funny about that. Ashley found himself laughing and didn't quite know why.

"What are you going to do?" Franciscus asked. All of the laughter was just suddenly gone from his face and his eyes were watchful.

"What do you mean?" Even as he asked, Ashley knew what he was talking about. He just didn't want to face it, not yet. It would hurt too much to finally make a decision, hurt to have to turn his back forever on one way of living, on one kind of happiness.

"You know what I mean, Ashes. Are you going to go back to the Pit or are you going to stay here?" Franciscus asked.

Ashley shook his head. "I don't know. I'm so confused. I need time to think."

Franciscus looked at him. "I wish I could help you, but I don't know what I would choose if I were in your place. A part of me is glad not to have to make such a decision." There was something in Franciscus' face that made Ashley a little uncomfortable. It was as though he were thinking things that he was afraid to say, things that Ashley would maybe be afraid to hear if he knew what they were.

"I miss the Master," Ashley said. "I miss my old life. But I like the one I've made here too. It feels as though I'm being pulled in two different directions, and I don't know what I'm going to do." He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at his lap. He was done talking now. He needed a quiet time to think.

Franciscus seemed to understand what he felt. He stood and left the room. He had always been very perceptive, though few people could truly accept that in him. He was just so brash and adventurous, hiding his true self behind a mask of humor and loud personality, that it was hard for people to imagine he had a single tender bone in his body. He just didn't seem like the type that would care about other peoples' feelings. All that should matter to him were his own.

Ashley sat at the dining room table and closed his eyes. His head was beginning to throb. He didn't know what he was going to do or where he was going to go with his life. Everything was just so confused.

As a therapon, his life had been carefully scheduled for him. He had never made any of the major decisions for himself. He had always just done what he was told until he left the Pit.

This would be the first real life choice he would be allowed to make by himself, and he didn't know how to decide. Maybe if he knew what the Master was doing right this moment he would be able to choose what he wanted once and for all. But he didn't know, and he couldn't decide, and all he really wanted was to be able to sleep for a thousand years and wake up to have the decision already made for him, his life a perfectly laid out linear path with easy to follow guidelines and strict rules.

Ashley drew in a deep shuddering breath. Everything was just so hard. Freedom was definitely not what it was cracked up to be.

Timeless

ERUSIDAMUS

Impatience burned inside Him. He had an eternity to live and He couldn't bear to miss one single second of time that He could spend with Ashley. The Palace of Gold seemed overly large around Him. It echoed with emptiness and He didn't feel the way He usually did.

He had never been in love before. It wasn't what He had always thought it would be. He didn't know if He really liked it or not. All He knew was that He needed Ashley here with Him, needed Ashley with every particle of His being.

I hope that he decides to come back here to Me, He thought.

He knew He was being selfish, thinking more of His own wants and needs than of what was best for Ashley, but He couldn't help it. A life of getting whatever He even vaguely desired had corrupted Him to getting His own way. He wasn't used to thinking of other people on a personal level, though He was a fairly compassionate ruler compared to some of His predecessors.

Erusidamus stared off into space and imagined Ashley here where he belonged. Could almost see that sweetly beautiful Ashley smile that He only now realized had always brightened the day.

For all of the years that Ashley had been with Him, He had never imagined life without Ashley. Had never imagined how empty and alone He would feel. And now that Ashley wasn't here being the prized possession, He knew that He needed Ashley. It was as though Ashley were the air in His lungs. Without Ashley He could not live, didn't want to live.

What can I do to make Ashley come back to Me?

He sat on His throne and thought for the longest time. No quick answers were forthcoming. All He had was a sort of blank misery. True thought was practically impossible.

He barely heard the double doors open and the soft footsteps of an approaching servant.

"Master?"

Erusidamus turned His head slightly and looked at Darnigo. "Yes? What is it?" He asked.

"Sire, Mistress Ignipatros has come," Darnigo said. "She wishes to speak to You."

A frown bent Erusidamus' lips. "Very well. Send Her in."

"Yes, Sire." The servant bowed her way out and disappeared.

Why should Ignipatros come now? There was no reason for Her to be here. Something must have happened, something He probably wasn't going to like. Erusidamus could feel His face twisting into a mask, the formidable and unbending Master of Gold taking the place of the almost-gentle heartsick lover. There would be no weakness showing in Him when She came before Him, nothing of the man that was tormented by His love for Ashley.

Ignipatros rarely left the Palace of Silver, something He had always been glad for. So when She did leave it, things happened, sometimes very unpleasant things.

The doors opened again.

"Mistress Ignipatros," Darnigo announced, then made her escape. She would send in some refreshments, but would not appear again herself until Ignipatros left.

That was one of the things about Ignipatros that rubbed Erusidamus the wrong way. She was cruel to the servants and had a reputation for a very unpleasant disposition. She was respected, but not exactly well-liked.

She came stalking into the room, Her hips undulating with the motion. Her feet made no sound on the floor, and Her dark eyes were watchful, absorbing everything into their starless depths.

He looked at Her and wanted to wince away from the complete tastelessness of Her outfit. She was an image of garish horror, something to blind the eye of anyone with a sense of style.

She was wearing a tight silver gown that brushed the floor as She walked. The gown had been enhanced with bits of sparkly black cloth along the hems and around Her waist like a belt. Her small breasts were pushed up as far as they would go and almost completely visible due to the low V-neck of Her gown. Her dark hair was piled up on Her head in glistening curls that gleamed with hints of red. Her dark eyes were outlined in red to highlight their natural color, Her lips painted that same vivid hue, made glossy and full by Her pout.

She approached Him and He knew from the light in Her eyes that He was going to be unhappy.

"Erusidamus," She purred, stroking His arm. "I am certainly glad to see You." She leaned against His arm and breathed on the side of His face.

"Is there something You wanted Ignipatros?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He kept His expression carefully blank as He looked at Her, seeing Her from faraway though She was right in front of Him.

At His cool reception, She pulled away and pouted. "Why must You always be so mean?" She asked.

"I have no interest in You as a mate," He said, knowing that it was cruel but necessary. He had told Her dozens of times that He had no wish to mate with Her. He had told Her, but She didn't believe Him. No one had ever said "No" to Her before, so She would keep trying until He finally gave in.

She didn't understand how He could find Her unappealing. Which was why whenever He saw Her She was dressed more and more outrageously, as if that would make Him fall under Her spell and procreate with Her mindlessly. She seemed to think that Her clothing was the deciding factor in their having a future together, Her lack of scruples adding nothing to the equation.

"Why not?" She demanded.

He shook His head. "I do not know. I simply do not find You appealing in that way. I do not want to breed with You. I do not want Your child."

"But I want Yours!" Her face twisted, almost-ugly under the light.

He felt a little sad for Her, but there was nothing He could do. He didn't want to have sex with Her. He didn't want to have a child with Her. He didn't want Her. He only wanted Ashley.

Erusidamus looked away as She pulled Herself back together. Her pain at His rejection touched a little too close to home.

He wondered if He would do even half so well if Ashley were to say no to Him. He wondered if He would be able to live if Ashley said that their love was over and that he wanted nothing to do with Him. He wondered if He would be utterly crushed emotionally, unable to even cry at His pain as He went running off into the darkness, hiding from the eyes that always watched and evaluated Him. Ashley could break Him, as He could break Ignipatros.

"So, what is this I hear about You losing a therapon to the Mortal Realm?" There was something stinging to Her words.

He knew that She was going to be wrathful, that was simply the way She had been made. If She was thwarted, She retaliated by being viciously mean, going straight for the throat. He would just have to put up with Her tone of voice and the pressure of Her angry thoughts until She calmed down a little. He was the cause of Her pain and would have to deal with Her lashing out.

"Ashlevarnis has left My services for awhile. I am certain, though, that he will be back," He said calmly.

Her eyes were sharp. "He was Your favorite for a long time, was he not?"

He nodded. "Yes. Of course You have met him, so You know that he is exceedingly attractive and has a wonderful personality."

Ignipatros snorted a laugh. "Yes, the perfect little toy for You to play with, and so very complacent. So why did he feel the need to run off? Perhaps Your love was not good enough for him, so he felt the need to find himself a mortal to satisfy his needs?"

Anger spiked through Him. Even knowing that She was trying to provoke Him, He felt rage fill His entire being. She was verbalizing the secret fears He had been unable to even think about for fear of making them true.

He glared at Her. "You better watch Yourself, Ignipatros. I am head of the Quadripartite, and I will only take so much from You before I have You destroyed."

She paled a little, but Her eyes still glittered with malevolence. "So, You really do love him," She said acidly. "I heard the tales, but I did not believe them. But now, now I know. The great Erusidamus is in love with a therapon ."

He couldn't help Himself. "You mind Your own business, Ignipatros. What I do is none of Your affair."

"In love with a therapon ? Are you mad?" Ignipatros' voice rang with disbelief and scorn. A Master loving a therapon was on a par with a human having a wild affair with their dog--it simply was not done and was a repugnant concept to most. For Masters, having sex with a therapon was all right, but any emotion other than lust was no part of it and certainly not that most closely guarded feeling of love.

Erusidamus clenched His jaw tightly. He knew better than to say anything. Not now, and maybe not ever.

She took His silence as all of the proof She needed. "I offered Myself to You. We could have Joined, Gold and Silver, the two most powerful members of the Quadripartite. Instead, You want to Join with a therapon." She breathed hard, Her chest rising and falling, pressing against the confines of Her dress. "You have gone insane. He has obviously done something to You. We will have to have that scum destroyed and try to clear Your mind."

Erusidamus sat ramrod straight and glared at Her. He pointed a finger. "You stay away from him. He is none of Your affair, and if You hurt one hair on his head, I will more than destroy You. I will corripioanima You while You are still alive."

She gasped and looked at Him with wide eyes. "You would never do such a thing. To destroy a soul... You are too ethical."

He raised an eyebrow. "What would I do to someone that threatened something I loved? Do You really think that I would be merciful? I am Erusidamus. I am the Master of everyone and everything here--including You."

She flushed and looked away. He was absolutely right and She knew it.

The Pit was ruled by four main Masters: Erusidamus who ruled from the Palace of Gold, Ignipatros who ruled from the Palace of Silver, Themalanus who ruled from the Palace of Bronze, and Versorocrate who ruled from the Palace of Copper. Together they formed the Quadripartite and ruled over the lesser Masters, who ruled over the therapons, who ruled over the serfs.

The world was set up as a feudalistic empire. The serfs were the workers, the peasants and slaves that spent their lives either in hard labor or as personal servants of the therapons. The therapons were like minor nobility; they were ultimate law to the serfs, but there were always those above them. The Masters were the rulers of the therapons, with the Quadripartite setting down the laws for the minor Masters. And heading up the Quadripartite was Erusidamus, who was the true ruler of the Pit, though He seldom used His power for anything but the direst emergency.

It was easy to forget that Erusidamus was the Master, He was not one to remind everyone and was happy to be thought of as just another Master among many. But when He gave a command, it was to be obeyed. And not even Ignipatros, the second most powerful Master, dared to disobey Him. His word was Law, and that was that.

When He threatened someone there was no doubt that that threat could become a reality. If He had wanted He could destroy other Masters, therapons and serfs at a whim. The fact that He didn't, when so many others had, was a mark in His favor. He was said to be a just and good Master of Gold. Some in the past hadn't been nearly so benevolent.

He glared at Ignipatros now. "You better watch what You say to Me. The ground that You stand upon is very unstable."

She looked at Him out of glittering eyes and He felt the futility. Though She was frightened now, He could see clearly that She would not heed His words. He was going to have to destroy Her.

Her shoulders were rigid. "I will listen to You, Erusidamus. We will speak again." With that, She turned on Her heel and stalked toward the doors. When She was nearly to them, they opened and a servant stepped through. She didn't even stop Her forward progress, didn't even glance at him when he stumbled backward and dropped his tray, the pot of fireblossom tea shattering against the floor, the orange-pink liquid splashing across the cold marble.

"I am most sorry, Master," the servant cried, hurrying to clean up the mess. Tears dripped from his eyes as he lifted the precious fragments of porcelain that had been part of one of the ancient serving sets that had survived millennia of use.

Erusidamus sighed wearily. "It is all right. Clean it up, then go tell Darnigo that I am finished for today. I do not wish to see anyone else."

He thought that He would take a nap. He needed a rest from His thoughts. They were eating away at Him.

And perhaps He would dream of Ashlevarnis, the gentle, nubile lover He had been too blind to truly see.

January 2006

GWENDOLYN

Music filled the air. It was so beautiful she had to close her eyes. She felt herself drifting away.

Her tears had dried on her face and her skin felt as though it would crack if she moved it. Her eyes were puffy and a little sore, but she didn't care. Her tears were done and she couldn't stay angry for long at the people she loved most in all the world.

At first she had been so angry and upset that she had thrown a tantrum of the kind she hadn't had in a long time. Her parents had been horrified at their little princess, but what could they really say? They were so weak.

She had felt as though she were dying. Ashes and Bones had canceled their concert and she'd already bought the tickets.

She had been angry at them. How could they do such a thing? But now she wasn't mad anymore. She knew that something must have happened. There was a reason why they had canceled, some terribly important reason that she just didn't know about.

She opened her eyes and sat up.

Her bed was covered in clothes, books, magazines, and makeup. She had been having a good time until the announcement that Ashes and Bones was canceling their concert came over the radio. Then she had begun to cry and rage and scream. There was a pile of broken ceramic dolls at the base of one wall. A cold blue eye glittered at her, reproachful that she should do such a thing.

It felt as though a million years worth of misery had been worked out of her system. A faint smile curled her lips. She was going to have to throw tantrums more often--they were having a medicinal affect on her.

The smile faded away. Ashes and Bones still wasn't coming. She wasn't going to get her chance to meet the band.

She looked down at the CD case she had left on the bed. The moment her tantrum was over, she had put the CD on and had fallen into the music. Back where she belonged.

The music soared around her and she looked down at the pictures of Ashes and Bones that accordioned out of the CD liner. She had begun to think of these people as her friends. She had imagined meeting them and traveling around with them and being part of their lives. She had imagined making love to them and talking to them and maybe even marrying them. Well, not them exactly. Mostly her fantasies centered on the gorgeous Ashley Valentine. He was her dream lover, that was for damn sure.

Gwendolyn Payne had always gotten what she wanted. From her first moments she had been spoiled and taught to believe that she was special. So she thought of herself as being better than all of the people around her, even her family.

Because of her complete "wonderfulness," she knew that she belonged with Ashley Valentine. He was wonderful to look at, his voice was to die for and he was everything she had ever wanted. He would be hers. It was just a matter of time.

The rest of Ashes and Bones were cute too, but nothing on a par with Ashley. But, if she had to, she would work her way through the band so she could get close to him.

A couple of her fantasies had involved her dating Quiche or Scooby or Fred, then talking her way into a practice session. Then it would be just her and the band. And, of course, she would start some sort of conversation with Ashley, and they would just hit it off. Then maybe they would go out for drinks and get really drunk and she would wake up the next morning with a cheap wedding ring on her finger and Ashley in bed next to her.

Some of her fantasies were completely unrealistic. Like the one where she and Ashley were somehow sent backward in time and stranded there so they would have only each other to depend on. Then they would fall in love, have a bunch of kids and live out their lives as Emperor and Empress of the world, because they somehow managed to use their future knowledge to take everything over. They would be rich and happy and together, the entire world revolving around them--just the way it had always been meant to be.

She knew she had an overactive imagination. She had thought about how disappointing it would be if she met Ashley and he wasn't as great as she thought. But what she had never considered was that she would never meet him. It had always just been a given.

Now she sat on her bed and looked at the liner pictures and sighed.

There was Scooby playing his guitar, his face twisted with intensity, his eyes half-closed and his lips drawn back from his teeth. Fred was trying unsuccessfully to hide a beer behind his back and wore a bit of a guilty expression, looking like a mischievous little boy. Silent-Bob sat on a folding chair with his bass guitar across his lap, his greasy brown hair falling across his face, hiding him though his pale blue eyes peeked out. Quiche was pictured pounding on his drums, sweat gleaming on his forehead and bare arms and flying through the air around him in a spray of exertion. And Ashley was dancing in front of a microphone, sweat dotting his brow and upper lip, so beautiful that it made her heart ache just to look at him.

Gwen gazed down at her one true love and knew she had to have him. She would have him.

First though, she had to find out how bad his family emergency was. If it was bad enough that he had been forced to cancel a show, then it was bad enough that she should probably send him some flowers and maybe a fruit basket or three. And, of course, she would include a letter, a long letter offering all of her support and caring and understanding, with a return address printed clearly and in plain sight.

A catlike smile curled her lips and she fell backward on her bed. She didn't even care when a book shifted and an edge dug into her spine. Her thoughts were on other things.

Ashley Valentine. Ashley, Ashley Valentine.

FRANCISCUS

Ashley was being incredibly depressing. He spent all of his time on the beach watching the waves, that or he slept curled up in a ball on his bed, his eyes half-opened and unblinking. He would barely even speak.

Franciscus looked out the large bay window and saw the lonely figure of Ashley on the beach. There was something so sad about him. He had drawn his knees up and rested his arms on them with his chin in the crook of his left elbow.

Franciscus tightened his lips. He had tried hard to help Ashley, but there was nothing he could do.

He's going to have to make up his own mind, he thought. There's nothing I can do, no help that I can honestly give. My own feelings would turn everything I tried to say into shit.

He sighed and turned to walk back into the living room to sit on the white plush couch. He rested his feet on the glass coffee table in front of him and slouched down low, his spine bending nearly double in the middle.

He stared at nothing, thinking. Remembering life from before and the first time he met Ashley.

MEMORY: it had been a sweltering hot day in the Pit.

As a lower serf thanks to his mixed blood, Franciscus had been working outdoors. The heat had swallowed him up as he labored in the fields just outside the city, his entire body trembling with the strain of remaining upright. His hair stuck to his scalp in sweaty strands that sent dirty runnels trickling into his eyes whenever he moved his head.

"Franciscus, be wary. You look as though you are about to fall down."

He smiled and nodded at Paulis. "It is just very hot here."

"I know, and you are young enough that you do not have much control over your temperature. Take a break and go fetch some water from the main well. The others would be grateful and it will give you a chance to catch your breath."

"Thank you!" Franciscus said and hurried off before Paulis' mind could change. Such a kindness could never last long, not when there was work to be done.

He ran all the way to the well, then fell down next to it, resting his back against the shaped stones. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He could feel the grit of the dirt through his pants and the hard, rounded stones under his head. He relaxed as much as possible, drawing deep slow breaths into his lungs, trying to regain his strength.

He was only there for a few minutes when he heard someone approaching from the other side.

He sat very still and listened. He had to hope it wasn't an overseer. Though he had been sent here, he had been wasting time, which was a punishable offense.

He heard someone laughing softly. It didn't sound like an official.

Franciscus got up to his knees and peered over the stone lip of the well. A smile curved his lips and his eyes went wide. He fought down an urge to giggle.

There was a child prancing around with fabrics flying. The child laughed and twirled, arms upraised, smile glowing in the sunlight. Dark red hair swirled and small feet lifted high before coming down, bare legs flexing with slender muscle.

Franciscus couldn't help himself. The giggle escaped and the child stopped and turned to look at him.

"Who are you?" There was plenty of arrogance in the words. This was a true child of the therapons.

"My... My name is Franciscus," he stuttered. He could get into a lot of trouble here. He was only a serf, and though he had only offended a child, it was a child of the therapons, as high above him as the cloudless sky.

Instead of being angry at being watched while acting foolish, the child grinned impishly, yellow eyes flashing cheerfully. "My name is Ashlevarnis. Male pronoun."

"Male for me too."

They shared a smile. They were both young, children together, though they were of different stations in life.

"What are you doing here?" Ashlevarnis asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

Franciscus shrugged. "I am supposed to fetch water for the rest of my work crew. If I do not get back soon I am going to be in a lot of trouble."

The boy frowned. "How many people are in your work crew?"

"Twenty-five and me," he said.

"That means you will have to carry a lot of water. Do you want some help?"

Franciscus shook his head. "I cannot ask for your help. You are a therapon. I am just a serf."

Ashlevarnis smiled at him. "I do not know you, but I am sure that we are going to be friends. I want to help you. Then later we can play."

There was something so sweet in the boy's expression that Franciscus couldn't help himself. It was obvious that Ashlevarnis didn't have very many friends and that he was lonely. There was just something in his face that said he was desperate for someone to play games with and talk to, a pleading in his large, expressive eyes.

"All right," he finally said. "You can help me fill buckets and carry them back to the fields. But..." he frowned, "you are going to have to change your clothes.

The boy looked down. "What is wrong with what I am wearing?"

Franciscus lifted the hem of his mud-brown tunic. "Look at my clothes, they are not even a quarter so fine as yours."

"I suppose I can change my clothes. But where would I get something else to wear?"

"Do you have any money?" Franciscus asked.

Ashlevarnis lifted a small pouch from around his waist and held it out. "Here, this is my pocket money. You can have it."

Franciscus felt a bit nervous, but he took the pouch. He opened it a little and peered in. Shining coins sparkled up at him. His breath caught in his throat and he felt as though he was going to pass out.

"This is a lot of money," he finally said. It was a veritable fortune, more money than he had seen in his entire life. There was enough money that he had to wonder what kind of person Ashlevarnis was that he could trust it to someone he had only just met.

The boy shrugged. "Darnigo gave it to me because she thought I might see something that I liked and would want to have. But there is not really anything that I need, so why should I have money when you do not have any?"

There was no good answer to that. "Well," Franciscus finally said, "we can buy you some different clothes so that you will fit in better."

"Will not people wonder when I buy serf clothes?"

"Nobody wonders about what a therapon is doing," Franciscus said, "it can be dangerous. But just in case, I will buy the clothes and bring them back. You stay here."

"All right." Ashlevarnis sat down next to the well. "I will wait here for you." He wore a trustful expression, sure that his new friend would return.

"I will be right back."

Franciscus hurried off and bought a tunic and trousers. He was careful to buy them in a size or two larger than Ashlevarnis would wear. It gave more of a sense that Ashlevarnis was a serf without a personal tailor, his clothes made to be grown into, made more for durability than to fulfill any kind of fashion.

"Here," he said, holding the clothes out to the boy, panting slightly from running in the heat.

Ashlevarnis held the tunic up, a faint frown puckering his brow. He twisted the rough cloth between his fingers uncertainly. "Will you help me?" he asked finally. He had never dressed himself before; there had always been other people.

Franciscus looked down into those big yellow eyes and sighed. "Of course I will help you."

As he helped Ashlevarnis change clothing, he had the sudden sense that his life had changed. Whatever Ashlevarnis asked for, he would give it to him. He could not explain what had happened to him, but he knew that Ashlevarnis had found a place in his life whether he liked it or not.

"There, now you are dressed like a serf," he said, stepping backward to admire his work.

The boy examined himself closely, then grinned. "I look like you now."

Franciscus didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise.

Instead, he drew in a deep breath. "If we hurry, we will have time to play after we deliver the water," he said.

Ashlevarnis grinned. "Come on then."

As they were getting ready to carry the buckets to the field, Ashlevarnis shyly touched his arm.

Franciscus looked at the boy, wondering.

"I am happy that I met you today," Ashlevarnis said softly. "You and I are going to be the best of friends, I just know it."

Color stained Franciscus' cheeks. He knew it too.

They were going to be friends.

Franciscus lowered his face into his hands.

Ashley was his friend. He couldn't stand the fact that Ashley could be hurting so bad and there was nothing he could do about it.

I shouldn't have brought him here, he thought. Ashley is just so unhappy. He was not meant for this world.

In all the time that he had known him, Ashley had been a sweet, wonderful child. Had always had a smile and a cheerful disposition, no matter the situation or the mood Franciscus was in.

Now Ashley always looked as though he was about to cry. There was just something so sad about him, as though he had been broken in ways no one else could ever see.

I brought him here. He came for me. More memories flooded into Franciscus' mind.

MEMORY: they were in the city garden, lying side by side in the cool flower specked grass. They had played for hours until they were tired. Now they lay spent, idly talking about nothing.

"You know something, you always make me feel better," Franciscus said.

Ashlevarnis turned his head and smiled sweetly. "It is the same for me. Whenever I see you, I know that life will always be this wonderful. You are my best friend in the whole universe."

Though they were of an age, sometimes Franciscus felt as though he was decades older than his friend. Ashlevarnis had just been a little too well protected, that or he had an innate innocence that nothing could take away from him, not even life. Whatever it was, Franciscus liked him and enjoyed being in his company.

They would play and talk and there was nothing more to it. They were children together and it was a wonderful thing. Neither of them had ever had a close friend their own age before.

Franciscus rolled onto his side. "Why do you not ever want to be more than friends?" he asked.

Ashlevarnis didn't look at him, just lay staring upward. "I belong to the Master."

"So? I belong to Him too. We are allowed to have relationships with each other, you know. He does not deny that little happiness."

"I am different from you," Ashlevarnis said softly. "I am a therapon, and I belong to the Master."

Franciscus was still confused. He belonged to the Master too, they all did. Everyone he knew belonged to the Master; it was the way of the world.

"I belong to the Master," Ashlevarnis said, emphasizing the word. "He is my lover."

Shock went through Franciscus. "Are you serious? Are you really one of the Master's concubines?"

Ashlevarnis looked at him. "Yes, and He can sometimes be very jealous. I do not want Him to be mad at me, and I especially do not want you to get into trouble. I want to be able to stay friends with you forever. I do not want to have to leave you."

A bit of jealousy went through Franciscus, though it was mixed with sadness. He would have liked to be close with Ashlevarnis, though he had also always dreamed about being with the Master and knew that it would never happen. He was only a serf, the lowest of the low, destined to always want and dream and never have.

"What is He like?" he asked, unable to resist the temptation of knowing something he had always wondered. For him the Master was forbidden fruit, but he could not help the wondering that always filled him. He could not help the secret dreams he had, the always unfulfilled desires that burned through him.

"He is the Master," Ashlevarnis said simply.

"Oh Ashes, sometime you have to tell me everything."

"Ashes?" Ashlevarnis looked at him, surprised.

Franciscus smiled. "The name suits you. To me, you will always be Ashes."

"Always to you." Ashlevarnis smiled at him sweetly.

When Ashlevarnis' hand slid across the open space and against Franciscus' palm, Franciscus wrapped his hand tight around it, holding it, trapping it forever. They were friends and they always would be. These two hands clasped together were a promise that Ashlevarnis would always be "Ashes," and Franciscus would always be loyal, no matter what.

A small smile quirked Franciscus' lips at the memory, but it slowly faded away with his thoughts.

Yes, Ashley had been a sweet child, and so cheerful. But now he was sunk in misery and it was all Franciscus' fault for bringing him here, away from everything he had always known. Perhaps he had not been as loyal as he had vowed to be, was not the true friend he had always thought he was.

ASHLEY

His first decision ever. He had finally made up his mind. A smile curved his lips. Everything would be all right now. A new clarity had entered the world.

I have to talk to Scooby, he thought. He deserves to know what I'm going to do. He gave me the chance to make music, so this is his business too.

There was something so satisfying about having made up his own mind and knowing what he was going to do. He felt as though he had been reborn, the confusion purged from him by a new sense of purpose. All of the doubt and fear were gone; he was cleansed of the unhappy emotions and it was a wonderful thing.

He leapt to his feet and raced up the beach back toward the house.

Franciscus looked up, surprised, when he banged in. Franciscus was half-lying on the couch, leafing through a video game magazine. His back was against one of the couch arms, his left leg stretched out before him, his right bent so his foot was flat on the floor. He had been comfortable and a little sleepy, but had snapped into full alertness when Ashley rushed in. He really didn't know what to expect.

"Come on, I need you to drive me somewhere," Ashley said.

"What am I, just your chauffeur?" Franciscus asked.

Ashley smiled. It was the first time in days that Franciscus had teased him. It was good to hear his usual skewed humor. Franciscus hadn't dared to joke with him lately; that he would now meant that things were getting back to normal.

"So, where do you want to go?" Franciscus asked, standing up. He stretched, his shirt rising a little up his stomach. His orangey-red hair was wild about his head, shimmering with static electricity. He was as relaxed as a cat, looking lazy but vibrating with hidden tensions that could send him flying straight into action with no warning.

Ashley opened the hall closet door and pulled out a heavy fleece lined jacket. Everyone expected him to need to wear winter clothes, so he did. Neither he nor Franciscus could afford to be seen as different from the other humans because that was what they were here--just another pair of humans.

He zipped up his jacket and tossed Franciscus his. "Here," he said. "We have to get over to Scooby's house before it's too late."

"Too late for what?" Franciscus asked, but it was no use. Ashley was already out the door, running lightly down the front walk. Franciscus cursed and followed.

He ignored the looks Franciscus was giving him out of the corner of his eye.

He sat on the edge of his seat, his knees neatly together, and stared intently out the windshield. He was fighting an urge to fidget nervously. The only thing holding him down was his seatbelt. It bound him to the laws of gravity, despite the fact that he probably should have been levitating four miles high with the chill January wind stroking through his hair like the hand of a lover.

"Can't we go any faster?" he demanded.

Franciscus snorted. "Not unless you want to be pulled over by the cops. We have to follow the speed limit, so calm down a little and let me drive."

Ashley growled a little under his breath, but didn't say anything. He couldn't make the car move faster by complaining. He would just have to be patient. At least there wasn't a whole lot of traffic out here, so he didn't have to worry about any traffic jams slowing them down further.

"I tell ya, Ashes, you have got to learn how to drive if you plan on surviving in this world," Franciscus said.

"Come on, if I'm really that desperate to go somewhere, I can ride the bus."

Franciscus made a sound of disgust. "The bus? The bus! Are you mad?"

"Riding the bus is a perfectly acceptable pastime," Ashley said primly. "Besides, I mostly spend my time in various limousines or tour buses anyway. Who needs to drive?"

"We came to this world to experience the mortal life, yet here you are unwilling to try even the most simple of things. Driving is one of those experiences no one should miss." Franciscus smiled and glanced at Ashley. "It is incredibly enjoyable."

"I'll take your word for it," Ashley said. "Meanwhile, I'll spend my time as a passenger being chauffeured about."

"Ah Ashes, sometimes I worry about you."

Ashley ran a hand through his shorn hair. "I was simply not made for this world."

"Yet we're here. Enjoy it."

"I am," Ashley said. "I am, as much as I can."

"You have to learn how to relax," Franciscus said.

"I've tried."

He ignored the way Franciscus looked at him.

He knew that he had tried--tried and failed miserably. He had never been meant to live in this world, and he couldn't help that, though he had tried to adapt, really.

Soon though, he hoped that his problems acclimating would be over. Everything would be right again.

SCOOBY

There was something almost nice about being all alone. There was no one telling him what to do, and he didn't have to live up to anyone's expectations. He could just be himself, alone.

He left dirty clothes tossed all around his bedroom and hadn't done any dishes in a week and a half. The house was a real wreck and he didn't even care. It didn't bother him in the least, and he was completely comfortable living in his own filth. He was fine.

He sipped from a cup of strong black coffee and read the best part of the newspaper: the comics. A small smile twitched his lips as he read, occasionally eating dry Life cereal from a bowl. There should have been something rather ironic about it all.

This was yet another lazy day and he was appreciating it. Nothing to do today but watch TV and let the world slide by. He didn't have to care about anything. He was even thinking about going back to bed until tomorrow and it was just barely mid-afternoon.

When he heard the car pull into the driveway, he knew suddenly that the fun was almost over. He sighed heavily and drained his cup, his tongue tingling from the burn of the hot coffee. He then began carefully folding the newspaper with razor precision, his ears listening closely for the sound of footsteps.

The doorbell rang. It was a somehow impatient sound, the world barging in on the peace of the moment.

"Come in," he called. His stomach was already tensing up for bad news. He knew instinctively that something unhappy was approaching.

Ashley came in and his heart began to soar as it always did when Ashley was near. His palms began to sweat and a knot formed in his throat. Every time he saw Ashley was like the first time--the affect only grew stronger.

"Ashley!" he said. "What are you doing here?"

The boy shrugged. "I know I said I would probably need more time, but I have to talk to you." Ashley sounded a little odd. He came fully into the small house and Franciscus followed him, looking a bit squirrelly and uncomfortable, his eyes touching everything but Scooby. He knew what was up, and if his expression said anything, it was that there was going to be some serious fallout from whatever was said.

"Hey, guys," Scooby said, pushing his chair back a little. "Do you want some coffee? I just made a fairly fresh pot."

Ashley waved him off.

"Nah," Franciscus made a face, "I'm not that coffee fond."

They sat down across from him, two very good-looking people. Sometimes he wondered if he should feel jealous. He knew for a fact that he wasn't exactly spectacular in the looks department and being surrounded by people that were kind of highlighted his lack in a not-so wonderful way.

Ashley licked his lips. "There's something important I have to tell you."

There was something in his voice that told Scooby that something really important was about to be said, something that might affect the whole course of history, or whatever. In response, he stared with simulated absorption at the handmade pottery cup with its dark blue glaze. He couldn't look up. If he met Ashley's eyes everything would change forever, when all he wanted was for it to stay the same.

He couldn't help himself. He lifted his eyes and looked at Ashley.

Idly, he wondered why both Ashley and Franciscus always wore sunglasses. Ashley wore a pair of orange-tinted glasses while Franciscus wore black shades. Together they never showed their eyes, hid those windows of the soul from everyone.

"Remember the... the man that visited me in my dressing room after that last show?" Ashley asked.

Unease went through Scooby. "You mean the guy that caused you to cancel the rest of our tour?"

Ashley looked at him, surprised, but nodded. "Yes. He wanted me to come home. I told him that I needed time to think."

Scooby swallowed, a hard fist tightening in his gut. "What... what are you going to do?"

He knew what he himself would do if he were ever given a choice between going home or becoming famous, but Ashley was different. He had seen the look on Ashley's face and the way he had acted when that guy was around. Anything could happen here, and any choice Ashley made was going to hurt someone.

Ashley twisted his fingers in front of himself, his eyes locked on the tabletop, avoiding Scooby. "I've decided to..."

What he was going to say was broken off by the strangest thing Scooby had ever seen. It was like something out of a sci-fi movie.

A swirling, smoky gray portal appeared in the air. A gray circle that looked into some darker aspect of infinity, a vision of perdition just slightly out of synch with everything that he knew, but completely understandable to some deeper part of his soul. It was huge and accompanied by a burning smell.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, his voice too loud, though not quite hysterical.

Ashley leapt up and hurried around the table to grab Scooby by the arm and jerk him to his feet. "Come on, we have to get out of here!" Ashley pulled him toward the door.

Franciscus was already there, fumbling with the knob.

"Open it! Open it!" Ashley cried urgently, glancing backward.

"I'm trying! The lock has been melted solid!" Franciscus jerked hard on the knob, a foot braced against the wall beside the door for leverage.

Scooby grabbed Franciscus' wrists and began pulling. "Turn the knob! Turn the knob!"

"I am!"

Scooby pulled hard and looked frantically over his shoulder. That weird thing was growing and pulsating with some unearthly heartbeat. He turned back to trying to help open the door. He wanted to run away, to run and run and run until he collapsed from exhaustion in some faraway safety. He didn't want to see whatever was going to come through that hole in space time--whatever terror was going to rip him away from himself. He didn't want to see anything bad today or ever. He wanted life to be boring and unchanging, an endless glaze of days. He didn't want to die.

"Get out of the way!"

There was something in Ashley's voice. He found himself standing off to one side, Franciscus next to him.

Ashley stepped back and raised his hands before him. There was a look of concentration on his face. Tiny beads of light appeared in the palms of his hands. They bloomed and grew, the light becoming so bright that Scooby had to look away for fear that his eyeballs would be burned out of his head.

Light shot out of Ashley's hands and struck the door. Wood burst and shot outward. Sparks and flames littered the ground.

"Come on!" Ashley grabbed Scooby's arm. His flesh tried to cringe away from those hands, though there was no sign of heat left in them. Franciscus grabbed his other arm and he felt himself being hustled out of the house and down the front walk toward their car.

"What was that?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"A portal," Franciscus said shortly.

"A portal to what?"

Neither of them answered. They just dragged him along toward their car.

There was a sound behind them. It was something like air being released from a balloon, but hundreds of times louder, a high-pitched squealing sound that twinged his ears with pain and brought tears to his eyes. The ground shuddered beneath his feet, just enough to notice, yet not enough to knock him down. He was glad, because something told him that if he was captured there wasn't going to be any chance for escape.

Someone shouted. The language was strange and almost painfully beautiful. The voice was not.

He risked a glance backward and felt a scream try to claw its way out of his throat. Urine trickled down his leg.

The creature was horribly ugly. It stood about ten feet tall and wore a shapeless gray tunic over bulging muscles and green scaled skin. It looked like a huge lizard with a whipping tail and a nostriless, flattened snout sporting long, razor-sharp teeth. Black spikes prickled all over its body, and they must have been sharp from the way some of them poked through the leather tunic. There were two nubby white horns on the top of its head.

A "mewl" escaped Scooby's lips when that first monster was pushed out of the way and three more of them came out.

"Oh shit," Franciscus cursed, opening the passenger side door and crawling in.

Ashley practically threw Scooby into the car and leaped in. "Go!"

Franciscus twisted the key and pumped some gas. The car squealed backward down the driveway.

Scooby held on tightly as the car spun around in the street and shot forward. He felt tears streaming down his cheeks and his jeans were uncomfortably wet. He had no idea what was happening, but he knew he wanted out of here.

They were halfway down the street when something struck the back of the car. The car stopped so fast that there was absolutely no warning. Scooby shot forward and hit the dashboard painfully with his chest. His forehead bounced against the windshield. He heard Ashley cry out beside him and Franciscus curse.

The car jerked forward again. There was the smell of burning rubber and melting plastic. Franciscus went back to his muttered cursing as he stared intently forward, his foot jammed down hard on the accelerator.

Scooby sat back and rubbed his chest. It hurt to breathe and he thought he might have cracked a rib or two.

Something in Franciscus' voice warned him. He braced himself as the car was hit again and spun out of control to sideswipe a parked car.

Metal slammed together, and he heard himself scream from faraway. Lights flashed behind his eyes and he felt himself falling, falling.

Dimly he felt his body sprawled limply against Ashley. He could vaguely see the car they had crashed into close against the half-shattered window. There were bits of glass sparkling on Ashley, shards glittering in his hair and across his shirt and jeans. He could feel one digging into his cheek with sharp pain.

There was the scream of tortured metal and the driver's side door was ripped off its hinges. Franciscus moaned as he was pulled roughly from the car.

The last thing Scooby saw before he finally lost consciousness were two green scaled arms with black clawed hands coming toward him. His eyes closed.