Gli Enigmi Sono Tre
					Part II:
				        "Il Sangue"
Jewel Faulkner
jfaulkne@brynmawr.edu

	Intro:  So here you are.  My dark side on a platter.  *Mature readers 
only*; this has some pretty bad language, violence, and sex.  This sucker is 
*dark*--this, realistically, is the darkest thing I've ever written, and I'm, 
not exactly known for flowers and butterflies, now am I?
	This is part two of the "Gli Enigma Sono Tre" Trilogy.  The title of 
the trilogy, BTW, is taken from right before a pivotal scene in the opera 
_Turandot_, the Enigma Scene, and it means, "The riddles are three."
	Oh, yeah--I worked in a musical term, then couldn't think of a good 
way to work the definition in, so I'll just tell you in the intro: 'sotto voce' is 
a singing term that literally means 'under voice,' and it's when a singer only 
half-sings to eiher preservethe voice or because they aren't seriously 
singing.  Now, wasn't that fun and edjimicational?
	You will have had to have read at least "The Child," "A Taste of 
Things To Come," and "La Speranza" to understand this.  And, of course, 
seen "Future Tense." ;)  Part III will be up as soon as I get around to 
finishing it, which, I hope, should be soon...
	Legal jargon:  Christine, Davida, and Angelica are my characters; 
Straussmore, Blake, Gemini, Athena, and Tamitha belong to Ryan Stout; 
and Cassy and Mistra belong to Scott Mercure.  Oh, yeah, and everyone 
else belongs to Buena Vista.  You know, the characters from the *show* 
who occasionally pop up in one of my stories...
		***		***		***		***

	This is not the nice, safe place full of sunlight that you know.  This 
is not even the world of the protected night that you know.  This is another 
world, a world of darkness, of fear, of revenge, and of obsession.
	Welcome to the dying of the light.
		
		***		***		***		***
Calaf:
	Lasciatami!                              Leave me!
	Ho troppo sofferto!                 I have suffered too much!
Ping/Pang/Pong:
	Il volto che vede e` illusone!   The face you see is an illusion!
	Tu giochi la tua perduzione!    You are playing with destruction!
	E` illusione funestra!               It is a fatal delusion!
Calaf:
	Ogni fibra dell'anima ha          Every fiber of my soul has
	Una voca che grida:                 A voice that cries out:
	Turandot!                                Turandot!
Liu`/Timur/Ping/Pang/Pong:
	La morte!                                Death!
Calaf:
	Turandot!                                Turandot!
Liu`/Timur/Ping/Pang/Pong:
	La morte!                                 Death!
Calaf:
	Turandot!                                Turandot!
Liu`/Timur/Ping/Pang/Pong:
	La morte!                                 Death!
		-Finale of Act I, Puccini's _Turandot_

		***		***		***		***		


INTERMEZZO:

Turandot:
	"Guiza al pari di fiamma,        "It kindles like a flame,
	E non e` fiamma.                     But it is not a flame.
	E` talvolta delirio                     At times it is a frenzy,
	E` febbre, dimpeto, e adore!    It is a fever, force, and passion!
	L'inerzia lo tramuta in un         Inertia makes it languish.
		languore.	
	Se ti perdi o trapassi, si            If you lose heart or die, it grows
		refredda;                                 cold;
	Se sogni la conquista,              If you dream of conquest,
		avvampa, avvampa!               it flares up, it flares up!
	Ha un voce che trepido             It has a voice with tredipation
		tu ascolti,                                you hear,
	E del tramonto il vivido baglior!" And it glows like the setting sun!"

Calaf:
	Si`, Principessa!                      Yes, Princess!
	Avvampa e insieme langue       It both kindles and grows heavy
	Se tu mi guardi, nelle vene:      In my veins when you look at me!
	"Il sangue!"                              "Blood!"
		-The engima scene, Act II, 2nd riddle, _Turandot_

		***		***		***		***
	"*Shit*!" 
	Instinct alone saved Davida's life from ending in a less than pleasant 
way.  She had moved at the last second, and as a result, her sister's *bo*--a 
wooden staff--missed her head by mere millimeters.  Good girl, Christine 
thought to herself.  I thought you well.  If you'd missed, you would have 
deserved what you got, she thought.  Caught up in the battle, she growled 
and reswung.  Vida moved again, but wasn't as fast.  It slammed into her 
ankle, and the woman blanched as her ankle shattered.  Too slow, Vida, 
you always were.  But at least this will look realistic, she thought.  ~sorry~ 
she sent on a tight band to her sister.  ~yeah, whatever~ came Vida's 
response.  Vida dove, then rode an updraft.
	"You can't run from me!" Christine yelled, chasing her sister.  
Davida turned mid-flight and blasted her sister with a fireball.  Christine 
dodged--years of being an assassin had quickened her reflexes to a 
superhuman degree.  Now she was pissed.  She retaliated by throwing a 
*sai*--a three pronged Japanese dagger--with what would have been deadly 
accuracy.  But Davida telepathically altered it's course so it flew past her 
harmlessly.  Christine growled, retrieved the sai, and attacked again.  She 
grabbed her sister by her shattered ankle.  Vida fought against greying out 
with all the will power she had.  "Traitor!" Christine yelled, grabbing her 
sister by her shoulders.  "I should end your sorry little life here and now!"
	"I have other plans." Vida said, and kicked Christine in the stomach 
with her left foot--the same leg as her shattered ankle.  Christine wasn't 
expecting it, and let go of her sister.  Davida began to plummet to the 
ground, pain causing her to forget she was far above the earth's surface.  
Davida remembered at the last second and spread her wings.  Christine 
recovered and attacked again.  Her teeth were bared and her fingers curled 
into claws.  Her little sister had just made a fool of her, and she was now 
*very* pissed.
	A shot rang out from below.  The laser beam went past Davida's 
head and hit Christine's wing.  "Arrrgh!" Christine yelled in agony as it 
burned her delicate wing.  She was knocked off course, banging into her 
sister unceremoniously.  Another shot was fired, and it barely missed her 
head.  Davida, in agony because Christine had banged into her ankle, 
crashed to the ground, clutching it.  Christine hissed and looked straight at 
the interloping human--one of the Resistance, Matthew Bluestone.  He was 
standing protectively over her sister, and had the laser aimed straight at her 
head.  Where the situation different, she would have killed him on the spot.  
But there was a higher purpose--she would let him live.  
	For now.
	"Vida--this isn't over." she snarled.  Her dark eyes turned to Matt 
Bluestone. "And as for you," she said, sneering in a way that made the 
man's blood run cold, "I'll remember your face, human."   She said this as 
she threw her sai at his head.  Vida grabbed Bluestone by the leg and pulled 
him out of the way.  While he was falling to the ground, Christine dove, 
retrieved her sai, and took off again into the shadow of the night.
		***		***		***		***
	Christine landed tiredly on the roof of Wyvern.  The second her feet 
touched the roof of Wyvern, she began rubbing where her wings joined her 
back.  She stifled a groan.
	"Was it a success?"
	"Yes.  She's in, Owen."
	"And how are you?"
	"Bluestone got a lucky shot.  My wing.  I barely made it back here." 
she said, allowing herself to show her pain for an instant.  "And I think I 
could fall asleep standing up."
	"You'll have to stay up a bit longer." Owen said, raising an 
eyebrow.  "There is someone who wants to see you."
	A brief smile lit Christine's face.  "Angelica?  Is she still awake?" 
she said.
	"She never sleeps when you go out."
	Christine's soft smile widened.  "I'll go see her." she said.  Her 
daughter, her little angel.  She went to her quarters. Angelica was in bed.  
The second Christine opened the door to the girl's room, her eyes flew 
open.	
	"M-Mommy?  That you?"
	"Yes, sweetheart." she said, going over to the girl's bed.  The six 
year old little girl sat up and hugged her mother.  
	"Oh, good.  I was worried about you."
	"Oh, I'll always be OK.  You know I'll always come back to you." 
she said, running her taloned fingers though the girl's dark brown hair. then 
patting the 'hand' of girl's delicate wing.  Angelica smiled and rested her 
face against her mother's hand.  "Nothing will ever seperate us." 
	"I love you, Mommy."
	Something in her softened, as it always did when she saw her child.  
"I love you, too.  Now, you get some sleep, OK?  It's past your bedtime."
	"Yes, Mommy." she said, smiling.  Christine left, shutting the light 
out as she left.  She headed to her own bed to get some sleep.  She sighed 
to herself.  She hadn't at all liked how her child had been conceived, but she 
loved her child with all of her heart.  And, besides, she had paid all of them 
back.  They left her with a child, she left them dead.  Within a month, they--
some of the scientists working for Xanatos and several of their cronies--
were dead.  She had a sneaking suspicion that she hadn't gotten all of them, 
but she got all that she could remember.  There were spaces that were still 
fuzzy, and she angrily suspected they would always be.  Ahh, well.  She 
had a beautiful, intelligent child, and she'd had her revenge.  Past that, who 
cared?
			***		***		***		***
	Angelica woke up when the sun set.  She stretched out her arms and 
her wings, then ran her fingers through her brown hair.  "Mommy?
	"Hmm?" Christine said.  She was already awake.
	"Just making sure you're still here." the girl said, smiling brightly.  
"I had a strange dream."
	"Oh?  What about?"
	"Oh, nothing." she said, wrinkling her nose.  Christine touched her 
daughter's nose lovingly.
	"All right, honey.  What do you want to do today?"
	"Can we color?"
	"Sure." Christine said, brushing the girl's wavy hair and patting the 
child's shoulder.  Angelica shifted her wings a bit, then placed her three-
fingered, taloned hand over her mother's and smiled.
		***		***		***		***
	Christine was out of Eyrie the second she received her orders from 
Xanatos the next night.  She had a straggling scientist to light a fire under. 
She glided in the darkness, confident that she was eluding the censors that 
patroled the skies.  She could almost laugh over how easy it was, except 
she knew that it was likely that the Resistance scum could do the same.  She 
blew the thought off as she appraoched the home of her target--later, she 
would have them reconfigure the sensors until they could *almost* follow 
her.  That would be enough.
	She reached her target's location.  The security systems were a joke 
to the assassin.  She stayed in the shadows, her second home.  They would 
not know she was there until she chose to make herself known.
	*He* would not know she was there.
		***		***		***		***
	He was sitting at his computer, typing furiously as he worked.  
Dammit.  He looked up once or twice.  Nothing.  He sighed and went back 
to typing.  For split second, he thought he heard the sound of someone else 
breathing.  But that was wistful thinking.  She was gone.  He was alone.  
He checked the sensor readings, and he was alone.
	"Straussmore."
	The man visibly jumped and swiveled around in his chair.  He paled 
at first when he saw her face after she stepped out of the shadows, then 
narrowed his eyes and hissed, "You!" 
	"Have you finished the new upgrades yet?"
	Dr. Straussmore looked up at the hybrid.  "No." he said shortly.  
He didn't even bother telling her that he no longer went by Straussmore and 
hadn't for a long time; she'd just ignore him as she always did.  He had not 
been expecting the witch, and seeing her--she looked frighteningly like the 
'wife' who had abandoned him to Xanatos--without warning in his home--
in his *office*--was a shock.  He would never get over the first time he had 
seen her--it was her and that other assassin, code-named 'Salome', who had 
attacked Athens. The Fall of Athens came in their wake.  
	'Turandot' had been the one to *personally* capture him, laughing 
in his face when he had paled upon seeing her and whispered, "Athena?"  
Oh, he had never forgotten that, and the way she had sneered, "I am not 
your little *wife*, dear doctor...I am your *nightmare*."   
	"Get to it, will you?" she snapped.
	"Who died and made you queen bitch?" he snapped back. 
	Surprisingly, she smiled--but it was as predatorial a smile as he had 
ever seen, and he had seen many.  "A better question," she said, brushing 
her dark brown hair out of her even darker brown eyes, "would be who 
*will* die."
	Somethng about the way she said it made him shudder.  
	"Something bothering you, Straussmore?  You seem 
rather...nervous." the hybrid said, sitting on his desk in front of him.  Not 
looking at her was a safe thing to do, especially with the sheer amount of 
leg he could see.  The bitch really looked too much like Athena for *his* 
own good, and she knew it.  She looked almost exactly as Athena had the 
day they had met, when she had been a gargoyle.  The Athena who *left* 
him to Xanatos.  His hands spasmed, fighting the urge to make it so she 
didn't look so damned much like his wife.  The only thing stopping him 
from lashing out with something to disfigure that damned face and rip out 
her Athena eyes was the knowledge that he would be dead before he could 
even *begin*.  The only time she had *ever* been in any way vanquished 
by anyone was when she had been drugged into submission, as he had 
heard...
	He shut the thoughts down quickly.  She was a psychic, they all 
knew that.  Any *inkling* that he knew *anything*, and he was dead like 
all the others.
	The hybrid's brown eyes narrowed.  "You're hiding something."
	"None of your concern." a voice said, a body coalescing from the 
shadows.
	"Hello, Cassy." Christine said nonchalantly.   She refocused her 
gaze on Straussmore, grabbing his jaw and squeezing until he looked at her.  
"Whatever you're hiding, *human*," she said mockingly as she eyed his 
mutated form, "I will discover it eventually."  She let go of his face and put 
her hands flat on the desk behind her.  "Whatever means necessary."  She 
jumped down suddenly.  Cassy grabbed her arm and hissed.
	Christine looked at Cassy's taloned hand gripping her arm, and 
laughed.  "Oh, please, witch!" she said, still smiling.  Cassy's eyes began 
to blaze, but before she could do anything, Christine had broken her grip 
and snapped Cassy's arm.  She looked down at the gargoyle writhing in 
pain.  "Be glad it wasn't your neck."
	"Do that, and I will break yours." another voice said from the 
doorway.
	"Oh, good, the gang's all here!" she said, chuckling.  "Hello, 
Gem."
	"Go to hell.  I should kill you for just threatening my father." 
Gemini said, her knife in her hands.  Christine raised her eyebrow.  She 
concentrated suddenly, and a glowing blade appeared jutting outward from 
her wrist.
	"C'mon and try it, bitch." she said, smiling her feral smile.  
	Gemini blanched slightly.  She knew what that was--Christine was a 
weak psi, but she had one power that she had honed over the years--that 
glowing blade she used to literally kill someone's personality.  It left the 
body alive, but a soulless husk.  She had learned it years ago, when she had 
split into three personalities--what should have destroyed her only left her 
more dangerous than ever before.  Inside of her mind, she had killed the 
two alters, and then had retained the knowledge of how to kill on a psychic 
plane, and it was manifested in her glowing blue-green 'blade'.  They all 
knew that it was the only weapon 'deadly' in any way to the immortal 
Gemini--her body would in no way be harmed.  But 'Gemini' herself...
	"Well?" Christine said, a confident half-smile on her face.  "I 
thought not."  The psionic blade vanished.  "Straussmore, it'd be a real 
shame if I had to use that *again*, now *wouldn't* it?" she said, smiling 
and cocking her hip.
	"Yes." he said back, just as coldly.  She was playing with him.  
Like she always did.  She knew how he felt.  She knew that he looked at 
her and saw the face of the woman who had 'killed' his granddaughter.  
She knew he looked at her and saw Athena.  She knew what she was doing 
to him--and didn't care.  No...not didn't care.  She enjoyed torturing him 
too much to not care.  She smiled again, her dark eyes blazing at him.
	Then she left, her hips swishing seductively as she walked out.  
Straussmore snarled as she left.  Damn her...
	"Get out." he said to Cassy and Gemini.  "And get me Delilah on 
your way out." 
	Cassy smirked.  "Yes, Master." she said, and vanished in a blaze of 
fiery glory.  Gem tossed him a look, and left.  Cassy reappeared seconds 
later, with Delilah.  "Have fun, Master." she said with a gleam in her eyes, 
and vanished.
	Straussmore looked at Delilah, and grabbed her.
		***		***		***		***
	Better.  Now he could think.
	"Anything else, Master?" Delilah said, adjusting her clothing and 
wiping her bloody nose.  At least Cassy had warned her.  Warned her by 
laughing in Delilah's face and saying "Turandot was here.  The Master 
wants you *now*," but at least she'd known that this wasn't going to be 
pleasant at all.  She didn't know what it was about Turandot that managed 
to leave him like that.  She seemed to be able to push every last one of his 
buttons and leave him violent.  She was happy that it was rare that the 
assassin had any dealings with Athens at all.
	"No.  You can go, now." he said, ignoring her.
	"Yes, Master." she said, frowning suddenly.  It wasn't her place to 
question his orders; he was the Master and she would do as he commanded.  
She left quickly--the sun would be rising soon.
	Straussmore went back to work.
		***		***		***		***
	She was waiting the next night.  "Severius is nearly done with his 
upgrades.  Are you?"
	Straussmore whirled around to face her.  "I'll be *done* when I'm 
*done*."
	"Well, you're taking too long.  Xanatos' orders, you're moving to 
Eyrie to do this.  Now.  I was sent to fetch you.  Get what you need to stay 
there until you're finished."
	"I *want* to stay here."
	"I *don't* give a damn." she said, her hands on her hips.  "You 
should have finished long ago, and this wouldn't have happened.  I could 
be with my daughter right now, but no, I'm here getting a lazy-ass 
numbnuts who can't finish *shit* on time." she said, smiling a faint sneer.
	He gritted his teeth.  Brazen bitch.
	"Everything I have is here.  All of my results."
	"So bring it with you.  I'm not here to argue."
	"I am not leaving my home."
	"Some home..." she said, looking around.  She smiled 
patronizingly, cocking her hip and putting her hand on it, then tilted her 
head.  "Still pining over your wife, are we, Straussmore?" 
	Straussmore's hands spasmed.  "You little..."
	"Get your bags packed, Straussmore.  You have two hours." she 
said.  Then she took off into the night, laughing at him.
		***		***		***		***
	She arrived promptly two hours later.  "Ready?"
	He barely managed not to jump again.  Where the hell had she come 
from?  "I'm not going."
	"*You* don't have a choice." she said.  She began dumping 
everything on the desk into a bag.
	"You little...!  What the hell do you think you're doing?!!?"
	She had him pinned to the floor, her knee in his back, seconds later.  
"I said you were going.  Now, we can do this the easy way, or we can do 
this the hard way.  Are you going to be a good little geneticist and get your 
things, or do I have to hog tie you, gather your stuff myself, and carry you 
over?"
	"A nice attempt, but Cassy will bring me back."
	"Well.  I guess I'll just have to stay with you all night every night 
while you work, won't I?  Oh, won't that be fun?" she said, grinning.  
Xanatos had ordered her to get him, as well as an interesting addition--"Oh, 
and Christine...have your fun with him.  After all, he *did* resist me for 
years, did he not?  Leave him alive, but...do what you like.  Turn his 
screws a bit."  This was going to be *fun*.  
	He only snarled.  Christine stood up.  He got up slowly and began 
gathering his information.
	"Fine." he said. 
	"Good, let's go." she said.  Straussmore turned to look around at 
the office he had once shared with Athena.  
	Christine started laughing.  "Oh, you are *pathetic*!  Nostalgic over 
your wife."  She laughed harder.  Straussmore's face darkened.  The little 
bitch...
	She stopped laughing after a moment, then smiled.  She leaned over 
next to him.  Her face was inches from his own. She went onto her toes, 
her breasts faintly brushing against his arm, her mouth next to his ear, her 
check touching his and her breath maddeningly hot against his ear.
	"She left you, didn't she?  She saw what you made yourself into 
and she left you." she said in a mocking, breathy whisper.  "You're not 
even a man anymore.  What could she want with you, any way?  You made 
yourself like this to protect them and it was all for nothing.  You lost her, 
and I captured you for Xanatos."  She pulled back from him slowly, her 
eyes burning and a smile on her lips.  Her tongue tip touched the middle of 
her upper lip as she empathically savored his pain.
	"Go to hell." Straussmore said, his voice strained and harsh.  He 
was shaking to avoid grabbing the bitch.
	She smiled again, her tongue still lightly against her lip.
	"Telling me to go to hell won't bring her back to you.  Just stings, 
doesn't it--knowing that everything you did for her was for nothing?  She 
left you and never looked back.  Can't blame her, really..."
	"Shut up, you little monster!"
	"*You* are calling *me* a monster?" she said, then cracked up 
laughing.  "Oh, you're even more messed up than I thought!  When was the 
last time *you* looked in a mirror?  I may have been grown in a petri dish, 
but *you*....you're as bioengineered a *freak* as I've ever seen!" she said, 
laughing harder.  "With as *freakish* as you are, it's not wonder your little 
android left you high and dry!"  She grinned coldly.  "Made it that much 
easier to take you, you know that?  Oh, if I could have had a camera for the 
look on your face when you saw me and said, 'Athena?'!" she said, her 
voice a ridiculing parody of his.  She went into peals of laughter again.  
"You're so *pathetic*, Straussmore!  I would have expected more of you." 
she said, beginning to walk off, still laughing to herself.  "'Athena.'  
Sheesh." she said, giggling as she walked to the door.  "Pathetic..."
	Straussmore leapt past the desk and grabbed her arm, whirling her 
to face him.  "You little bitch." he snarled.
	"Let go of me before I do something you might regret." she said, 
her smile never fading.  Straussmore's hand tightened around her arm.  Her 
face never changed.  If anything, her smile widened slightly as he began 
trying to crush her arm.  He was holding her arm so tightly he could feel her 
bone beneath the layers of muscle.  
	He wanted to see her wince.  He wanted to see that mocking smile 
fade from her face and be replaced with a grimace of pain.  But instead of 
grimacing, she only smiled.  Then she reached down and grabbed the *sai* 
that was in a sheath on her leg.  She drove it through his upper arm in one 
smooth motion.  
	"I told you I might do something you'd regret." she said, smiling 
just as sweetly.
	"Go to hell!"
	"Not, I think, today.  But how about you tell me about it, hmm?  
After all, you'll be there *long* before I am.  Once they stopped 
accelerating my age, they found out I age at gargoyle rate--half of human.  
And look at me--Xanatos wants me around or a *long* time, so magic has 
kept me all but ageless.  So long after you're dead, I'll still be around to 
dance on your grave.  
	"Oh, look, here comes the sun.  I guess I have to stop, now don't 
I?" she said, pouting exaggeratedly.   "Well, Straussmore, it's been fun--
we'll *have* to do this again sometime, won't we?  Toodles." she said in 
an annoyingly cute voice, a cheerful grin on her face.  "I'll be back for you 
tomorrow night."  She walked out, leaving him with the sai still sticking 
from his bleeding arm.
	"Dancing on my grave, eh, you little wench?" he muttered as he 
pulled out the sai.  "Well...we'll just see who's dancing on *whose* 
grave...won't we?"
		***		***		***		***
	"Father!  You're hurt!" Gemini said as soon as she saw 
Straussmore.
	"Nothing.  It's just a scratch.  An accident while working on the 
upgrade."
	"All right..." Gemini said, frowning.  That was an awful lot of 
blood and a very large bandage for a scratch...
	"Gem... May I borrow your knife for a while?" he said suddenly.  
Gemini's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
	"Well, yes, but why?  I mean, if there's someone you want dead, 
please, let me do it for you." she said, grinning wickedly at the thought.
	"No, no...this is my concern." Straussmore said, his hand 
involuntarily going to his upper arm.
	"What?  Or should I say, 'who'?"
	 "I've been called to Eyrie.  Blake is coming, but I want you and 
Cassy t o tsya here to keep an eye on things.
	"And as for someone I have to deal with...let's just say it's someone 
who needs to be put in their place." he said, smiling coldly. 
	"That witch Turandot?"
	Straussmore said nothing, only smiled.  "What makes you think 
that?  But speaking of her, it's quite a pity she's bound so to the sun, now 
isn't it?  This is probably the only time she's completely vulnerable.  Quite a 
shame, for someone with *so* many enemies..."
	Gemini smiled and handed her father the knife.  "Quite." 
		***		***		***		***
	"When do you thing that witch will show up?" Blake Straussmore 
said the next night.  He looked out of the window, seeking some sign of the 
assassin.
	His father sighed.  "Who knows?  She only said she would come.  
Who the hell knows past that?"  He stared out of the window, too.
	"Are you ready to go?"
	"Yeah." his father said, sighing.  
	"Why not just go over now and save all of us the trouble of waiting 
on Turandot?" Blaske said, wrinkling his brow.
	"And give her the satisfaction?  No."
	A voice laughed.  "Oh, Straussmore...you just did!"  Both 
Straussmores whirled to see Christine leaning against the doorframe, 
examining her talons.   "Shall we go?"
		***		***		***		***
	He got to work, anxious.  He knew that at any moment the bitch 
might show up.  He let out an irritated breath.  He wasn't getting anything 
done, on edge like this.  Half of his concentration was gone, listening for 
some small sound of any sort, waiting for something, anything, that would 
give her presence away to him.
	He suddenly felt her hot breath on his neck, in his ear.  "Straussmore."
		***		***		***		***
	Too long.  The weeks had dragged by, and Straussmore had been at 
Eyrie for too long.  Around *her* for too long.  She had been constantly 
needling at him the entire time he had been there, leaving him completely 
unable to do anything, expecting the bitch to pop out of the unfamiliar 
shadows of Eyrie at any instant, laughing at him, Athena's eyes glittering 
coldly and mockingly from that *face*, teasing him and tormenting him.  
Too many weeks had passed with the bitch leaving him in an impotent rage, 
unable to *do* anything to get rid of her; hatred and pure, abject, lust 
merging in ways he had never imagined either as being possible or himself 
capable of.  Too many weeks had passed with him on the edge of the abyss.   
He was standing at the abyss, looking in it, fighting to avoid falling in, 
loosing ground day by day.  It was time to pull back.  To regain control.
	He walked into the little whore's room.  After, of course, 
programming the surveillance cameras to do a continuous loop of ten 
minutes before he came in.  By the time it was discovered that night, she'd 
be dead.
	He stood over her sleeping form.  Damn and double damn the bitch.  
She stirred slightly in her sleep.  Straussmore's sneer deepened, and his 
hand tightened on Gemini's knife.  He could still imagine the way her cheek 
had felt against his; the way her breath had tickled his ear when she 
derisively whispered, "She left you, didn't she?"  He would do this now 
and get it over with.  Get that witch's evil out of his life.  Get *Athena* out 
of his life once and for all.  Delilah was never enough when the bitch was 
around--whenever he looked at Delilah, for better or worse, he saw how 
part of her was like Gemini.  And despite her face, she didn't look all that 
much to him like Athena--her coloration and hair was all wrong. But 
*her*...aside from the shape of her jaw, she *was* Athena; a perfect mix of 
the two Athenas in his mind--the Athena he'd first met and fallen in love 
with when she had a gargoyle body type and the Athena he had married and 
who had eventually just left him to Xanatos's--*Turandot's*--clutches.  But 
now, damn her, she looked so much like Athena.  Her face had softened in 
her sleep, and a faint, vulnerable smile was on her lips.  She didn't look 
capable of being the evil witch she was.  Goddamn it, don't fall for her little 
mind games!, he thought to himself.  Even in her sleep, she was toying 
with him.
	He raised the knife.  He was about to plunge it down when she 
whispered in her sleep.  "My love..."
	The knife clattered to the ground.  What?  What was the bitch 
dreaming of?  Who? Damn her.  His eyes wandered to the trace of her jaw, 
of her neck, of her shoulder.  The rise and fall of the cotton sheet as she 
breathed.  The gentle contours of her body--of arm, of breast, of hip-- 
underneath the sheet.  
	His hand snaked out to touch her cheek, the knife forgotten on the 
floor.  She turned her face to his hand.  Her skin was surprisingly soft.  He 
traced a line down her neck, but stopped at the base.  His hand touched her 
dark brown, almost black, hair.  It felt exactly like Athena's... 
	He yanked his hand away.  No.  Damn it, no.  He was here to kill 
her, not give in to her.  Even in her sleep, the witch had the ability to leave 
him in this state.
	Sunset.  When was sunset?  He could come back then, right before 
sunset, and kill her the second she opened her eyes.  Then this seeming 
helplessness would go away.  Her predatorial expression was nothing like 
Athena's, and seeing that would make him able to kill her, not leave him 
weak with desire as he was now.  He would come back at sunset...
	"My love?" she whispered again in her sleep, her eyebrows rising 
slightly.
	His hand spasmed.  Damn her.  Damn her.  Damn her, and then 
damn her again. She had tormented him for too long, and this was the final 
torment.  Her low-pitched whisper was just like *hers*...
	He couldn't take this any longer.  Forget killing her--that would 
require staying near her, and if he didn't leave now, he was lost and he 
knew it.  He yanked his hand away and ran to the door.  He pressed his 
hands into the door, his fingernails gripping it, his arms spasming and his 
head against it.  He was fighting this insane desire as much as he had ever 
fought an actual foe.  
	There was a sound behind him.  Involuntarily, he looked around.  
She was rising.  He felt a moment of terror, then realized that there was still 
sunlight in the room and that her eyes were still closed.  Sleepwalking.  Of 
course.  He'd heard that she did that, occasionally, and had for a long time.  
She would never wake up--after all, she couldn't during the day--but she 
would walk the corridors.  He couldn't help but watch her move.  Her 
footsteps were slow and careful, but still graceful.  Her head was slightly 
tilted and her arms hung limply at her sides, her tail dragging against the 
floor.  She walked to the window, raised her arms, and pressed her hands 
against it level with her shoulders.  Straussmore's hands began to shake.  
Her wings were spread--he could see the fine lines of blood vessels in her 
thin wings, and he could see the shape of her body etched through the thin 
gown in the sunlight.  
	She was swaying in her sleep.  She hummed faintly, one note 
repeated over and over again, then started singing in her sleep.  "I dreamed 
a dream in times gone by...when hope was high and life worth living.  I 
dreamed that love would never die.  I dreamed that God would be 
forgiving.  Then I was young and unafraid, and dreams were made and 
used and wasted.  There was no ransom to be paid.  No song unsung; no 
wine untasted.  But the tigers come at night, with their voices soft as 
thunder as they tear your hope apart; as they turn your dream to shame..."  
Her voice trailed off as it rose higher in pitch, seeming to vanish.
	If he went to her now and pushed her out, it would look like an 
accident; like she had done it in her sleep...
	He ran for her.  He would shove the bitch out and be done with it; 
no more of her insidious torments.
	His hands reached out and landed tightly on her shoulders.  Just as 
he was about to shove her out--and he knew he could push her hard enough 
to break the glass and send her plummeting to her death, she leaned into his 
hands in her sleep, a faint smile on her lips.  She began to sing again.  
"Porgi, amor, qualche ristoro al mio duolo a' miei sospir.  O, mi rendi il 
mio tesoro, o mi laschia almen morir.  O mi laschia almen morir..."
	Give me back my love, or let me die.
	The hands on her shoulders spasmed again, gripping her flesh 
tightly.  Now or never, damn her...  His fingernails dug into her flesh 
sharply enough for her to wince slightly in her sleep.  That small sound 
broke him.  He plunged into the abyss.  He whirled her around, threw her 
to the floor, and took her.
		***		***		***		***
	Straussmore looked at himself in the mirror after he had left.  Damn 
her.  He had lost to her again.  *Again.*  He should have killed her when 
he had finished with her.  Hell, he should have killed her before he had...
	Damn her!, he thought again, his hands convulsing into fists.  He 
would get her for this.  Get her for the desire that was rising over him 
again.  Damn her and damn Athena.  But damn *her* more.  Damn her for 
playing with him like she did.  Damn her for turning his screws so 
*blessed* easily.  Damn her for making him feel so out of control.
	He slammed his fist into the mirror.  It shattered, raining glass 
shards onto the floor, along with his blood.  He smiled at the pain.  Better 
to feel something *else*.  Better this that the overwhelming urge to go back 
to her.  He thought once would have been enough, but no, he wanted to go 
back, to bruise that strangely fragile flesh again and make her bleed, to pin 
her down and prove that she was real and not some nightmare phantom, to 
take his revenge on Athena out on her again and make her pay for teasing 
and laughing at him...  Thinking about it only made it worse.  Sunset was 
still hours away, but he would not give in again.  He'd kill her first.
	He laughed dryly.  Not bloody likely.  He'd get in there to kill her 
and she'd end up seducing him again.  He snarled as he began carefully 
plucking the shards of glass from his hand.  So who had she been dreaming 
of?  Who did the witch call her love?  Who?  
	He laughed dryly.  He didn't really care past a sick curiosity.  But 
then, he admitted to himself--sneering as he picked through the skin of his 
cut hand with tweezers, pulling out fine shards of glass--everything he felt 
for her was sick, and he knew it.
	Her voice in his head mocked him.  "Still pining over your wife, are 
we, Straussmore?"   He could see her standing with one hip jutting out to 
the side, one hand on that hip and her head tilted slightly to the side, a 
patronizing, mocking sneer on her flushing face, the rising color 
inadvertantly and unconsciously revealing the precise type of pleasure she 
got from his pain.  His face darkened and his hands, despite the pain, began 
to convulse into fists again.
	"Dad?" 
	"Blake!" Daniel said, looking up suddenly.  His hands relaxed 
instantly.
	"Dad!  What happened?" Blake yelled, coming forward, his face 
contorted with concern.
	"A slight accident.  I was clumsy." Straussmore said, smiling.  He 
wiped the blood away from his hand.  It was stinging painfully now.  One 
more thing the bitch had done to him.  He would make her pay for that, as 
well.
	"Are you sure you're all right?" Blake asked.
	"I'm fine.  I promise." the older man said, smiling.
	"If you say so.  I was going to ask if you'd seen Gem."
	"I think she went back to Sparta."
	"All right."  Blake stared out.  "Dad--are you sure everything's all 
right?"
	Well, I'm lusting after a hybrid who looks like your mother and 
fighting the urge to either kill her or rape her in her sleep again.  But past 
that, oh, I'm peachy-keen.  And you?  "I'm fine." he said, managing a fake 
smile.  
	"Are you sure, Dad?"
	No.  "Positive." the older man said, managing the fake smile again.
	"If you say so..." Blake said.
	"No offense, Blake, but could to leave?  This really isn't a very 
pleasant thing to watch." he said, holding up the tweezers.
	"Sure.  I'll come talk to you a little later--I think we need to 
talk...about Turandot." he said seriously, and headed out the door.
	The second the door closed behind his son, Straussmore's face 
returned to a sneer.  Blake just had to mention the little bitch.  His hand 
stung as he missed a sliver.  Damn.  This was her fault--her fault for 
making him so damned crazy.  Even now she still was turning the screws.  
Well.  He wrapped his hand in a bandage.  She would pay for this.  For 
tormenting him more.  Damn her, she would pay, and pay dearly for this.
		***		***		***		***
	The sun set.  Christine's eyes flew open.  "NO!" she screamed, 
putting her hand over her heart, her eyes huge.  Her breathing was 
irregular.  Her eyes darted around the room anxiously.  She felt on edge and 
ready to be sick.  She couldn't get her breathing to slow down or her heart 
to stop racing, or the terror she felt to go away.  She felt pain.  But then, 
she'd had that wretched nightmare again--what had started out as a nice 
dream about *him* had metamorphosized in a terrifying way--and often 
when she woke up after a nightmare she had phantom memory pains as her 
body remembered what had happened to her.  This had to be the same 
thing, even though this felt far too real and raw.  
	Her hands were shaking.  Badly.  In fact, her whole body was 
shaking.  And she couldn't stop.  She wanted to scream but couldn't.
	"M-Mommy?"
	"Angelica!" she said, and ran to her child.  She scooped the little girl 
up in her arms and held her tightly.  
	"Oh, amore, amore mio!  Fior di giglo e di rose!" she sang.  She 
skipped ahead in the music.  "O a me, scenso dal trono d'un altro paradiso! 
she sang, then buried her face in her daughter's dark hair.  Oh, love, my 
love!  Flower of lilies and roses!  O, to me, you came from the Throne of 
Paradise above!
	The little girl wrapped her arms tightly around her mother.  Her 
mother had had bad dreams again, she knew.  She hated it when her mother 
had THE nightmare.  Her mother would never say what THE nightmare 
was about, but Angelica knew that whatever it was, it was a BAD thing.  A 
*very* BAD thing.  But...  
	The girl frowned.  No.  There was something *wrong* with 
Mommy!  Someone had done something very bad to her while she slept.  
And Mommy didn't know it because she had been asleep.  Now that she 
thought about it, Angelica could remember *someone* there.  It was faint, 
and only a vague memory of sleepily being aware of another presence, but 
*someone* had been there, and *someone* had done to Mommy whatever 
caused her bad dreams and made her hurt.  
	Well, Angelica could fix at least *part* of that.  While her mother 
was distracted, she placed a quick healing spell over her.  This way, at least 
she would *feel* OK.
	Christine breathed a sigh of relief.  The pain that had begun to nag at 
her and make her wonder if it *hadn't* just been a horrid dream was gone 
like mist.  Good.  Thank God.  It *had* just been a bad dream.
	She held her daughter, burying her face in the girl's dark hair and 
wrapped her wings around her, seeking to in some way make the stain on 
her soul go away by being so close to someone so innocent and pure.  Tears 
were in her eyes, but she blinked them away.
	"I love you." she said over and over again to her child.
	"I love you, too, Mommy." Angelica said, hugging her mother even 
tighter.  Now her mother felt better.  Good.  Angelica frowned slightly.  
But someone had hurt her, and she suspected she knew who.
		***		***		***		***
	The little girl walked, wide-eyed, down the corridors.  She had 
never ever been down here, and she knew why.  If her mother, or Owen, or 
Alexander, or Blake knew she was down here, she would be in a lot of 
trouble.  She sighed heavily.  Maybe she should have asked Blake to bring 
her down here, because she was afraid.  Blake was always nice to her--she 
reminded him of someone named Tamitha.  All she had been able to get was 
her name from his mind, but she left it alone--one day, he would tell her 
who "Tamitha" was.
	Here.  Whoever had hurt her mother was here.  She stopped and 
went in.
	"What the...?" Straussmore said when he looked up.
	"Oh, cute.  It's the little witchlet." Cassy cackled.  She had come to 
the Eyrie that day to deliver something to Straussmore, and was glad that 
she had.  This looked to be interesting...
	"You hurt my mommy," the child said, turning her eyes on 
Straussmore.  "I don't know what you did, but I want you to never do it 
again.  You made her cry and you made her afraid, and you made her 
*hurt*." she said, her dark eyes accusative.
	Straussmore took a step back in spite of himself.  "What?  Listen, 
you..."
	"My name is Angelica." she said, her eyes fierce.  
	"...'Angelica'," he said, sneering on the girl's name, "I don't know 
what you think, but I would appreciate it if you left me out of your make-
believe!  No go back to where you should be before you get hurt."
	"I'll go...but I know what you did." she said, her eyes blazing 
white for a split second, and a faint psychokinetic wind blowing around her 
face.  She took Gemini's knife from behind her back and threw it on the 
table, then she turned on her heel and stalked out.
	"What was *that* all about?" Cassy said, making a face.  
	"I have no idea." Straussmore said.
		***		***		***		***
	Christine stalked down to Straussmore's office in Eyrie.  He was 
actually here, instead of wimping back off to Sparta.  
	"You look like hell." Cassy said with a sneer the second she saw 
Christine.
	"Go back to hell where you were spawned from, demon." Christine 
spat back.  She stalked over to Straussmore.  He felt an instant of terror, but 
it died away.  He wasn't going to be afraid of her.  "How much have you 
done on the planned upgrade of the UltraPack?  I need to know and I need 
to know *now*!  We're attacking soon!"
	"You'll get it when I damn well finish."  She had no power over 
him.  He hated her and he let her feel that hate.
	She took a step back.  Her eyes widened and she paled, her eyes 
suddenly flicking around nervously.  He kept a gloat to himself.  So who 
was turning the screws, now?
	"M-make it soon, St-Straussmore." she stammered, suddenly filled 
with mind-numbing terror.  She fought the desire to bolt with every ounce 
of will she had in her.  She was having another panic attack.  She had them, 
occasionally, but it had been so long since she had.  "I--I don't...I..."  She 
suddenly couldn't speak.  Her breathing turned irratic.  "I...I...oh, God..." 
she moaned.  She put her hand to her mouth, and bolted, feeling ill the 
longer she was there.
	She could hear Cassy's mocking laughter behind her, but she didn't 
care.  She managed to make it to a bathroom before she threw up.  She 
rinsed out her mouth and leaned heavily against the sink, feeling wrung out.  
She looked up at her face in the mirror.  She hated it.  The paleness.  The 
fear in her eyes. The look of weakness.  The shaking.  She gritted her teeth 
and willed the panic attack to subside, even carefully inhaling and counting 
as she exhaled.  
	"Are you OK?" a voice said behind her.  She whirled around, angry 
at having been seen weak. 
	Alexander Xanatos stepped back, raising his hands.  "Hey...look, I 
saw you run in here, and I just came to see if you were all right."
	"I'm fine." she snapped.
	"Well, you sure as hell don't look it.  You look ready to collapse on 
your feet!" the young man said.  He was still very young, thanks to years 
passing while he was on Avalon before Xanatos attacked Avalon and 
reclaimed his son.  Christine sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.  
"I'm all right.  I promise."
	"You sure?" he said, laying his hand on her arm.  "You look a little 
weak on your feet.  Maybe you should be resting.  Or maybe you should 
have Dr. Straussmore take a look at you..."
	"NO!" she yelled, suddenly terrified of being anywhere near him.  
Her breathing began to go haywire again.  "I just...I just need...need 
rest..." she said, trying to get control.  She was suddenly lifted off of her 
feet.
	"Rest, nothing!  Look at you!" he said, beginning to carry her.  
"You need to be checked out..."
	"Not him.  Please.  I..." she whispered, her eyes huge. 
	"All right." Alexander said, frowning slightly.  "Look, I'll take you 
to your room.  You can rest there.  Is that OK?"
	She nodded weakly.  Her head fell against his chest as she tried with 
all of her might to control the terror she felt.  It was diffuse but all-inclusive.  
"Don't...don't let Angelica see me, please...please..."
	"I promise." he whispered.  She managed to relax a little once *that* 
fear was out of the way.  He carried her to her room, and laid her down on 
her bed gently.  "I'll go take Angelica away so you can rest.  OK?  Now 
you rest.  Good God, Christine, you look ready to collapse!  What 
happened?"
	"I don't...I don't know." she said, frowning.  "I...I just don't 
know."
	He sighed.  "Regardless, you stay here.  Someone else can organize 
Father's plans for a while." he said, barely managing to keep a faint sneer 
from his face.
	She didn't notice.  She had gotten under all of her covers and was 
shivering violently.  Alexander's hand rested on her shoulder.
	"Are you sure that you're OK?" 
	"I...It comes and goes.  Just...just take Angelica away so she 
doesn't see me...like... like *this*."
	"She's with Owen right now.  I'll make sure she stays with him, 
though."
	"Thank you." she said, the words rolling awkwardly from her lips.
	"I'll come check on you later." he said, standing up.  He started to 
leave, when she called out.
	"Wait!"  When he turned back to her, she said in a small, 
embarrassed voice, "Please...please, don't leave me alone.  I...I thought I'd 
be all right but..." her voice trailed off.  "God, I wish Vida was here.  I 
wish she had never left...I need her now more than ever, and she just 
abandoned me." Christine said bitterly--Vida had volunteered to join the 
Resistance as a spy.  Her sister was gone and she couldn't get Owen--
Angelica was with him.... And as much as she hated seeming weak, she 
was too afraid of being alone to care right then. Later, she might have to kill 
him for having seen her vulnerable, but for now, she just didn't care.  
Besides, she felt strangely safe with Alexander...she supposed it had 
something to do with the fact that he had been the one to find her all those 
years ago, and stay by her side when she was recovering.  For a split 
second, she thought that things seemed to have come full circle... then she 
didn't think about it any more.  "I really thought I'd..." she began shakily.
	Alexander smiled a faint, concerned smile.  "All right.  I'll stay with 
you."  He went over to a viewscreen to contact Owen.  Once he had made 
sure the child would be watched, he went back over to Christine and sat by 
her bedside.
		***		***		***		***
	Cassy grinned.  "So, what did you do to the Queen of the Night, 
there?" 
	Straussmore glared up at Cassy.  "Nothing."
	Cassy laughed.  "Bull shit!  That witch was scared out of her mind.  
You did something!  And how did that whelp get Gem's knife?"
	He narrowed his eyes.  "You're forgetting your place, witch!" he 
roared, his mechanical eye pulsing.  Cassy, surprised, took a step back.
	"All right, all right." she said, waving her hands on the air.  "Calm 
down, OK?  Forget I said anything."  She rolled her eyes.  He was touchy 
about *something*.  And saying he hadn't done anything was a crock.  Ha.  
He hadn't been cowering away from her like he normally did.  He hadn't 
been left shaking with rage--or lust, she thought with sadistic grin--like he 
normally was.  So what the hell happened?  She chuckled.  What did she 
care, really?  Whatever had happened, the bitch had been taken down a peg 
or two, and her master wasn't as annoyingly spineless as he normally was 
when she was near.
	Straussmore seemed focused on his work, but his mind was 
elsewhere.  That little girl knew something.  But how much did she know?  
It had been bantered around that she seemed to inherit being psychic.  In 
fact, she seemed to be extremely powerful in some way.  He frowned.  
How much did she know?  His frown deepened, then metamorphosized 
into a smile.  Well... 
	Accidents *did* happen.
		***		***		***		***
	"I wanna see my Mommy!" the little girl howled, stomping her feet.
	"Angelica, please, listen to me." Owen said, trying to make the girl 
understand.
	Angelica's eyes began to glow with fury.  "I WANT MY 
MOMMY!" she howled even louder, things around the room beginning to 
fly.  It was rare that the girl ever threw temper tantrums, but when she 
did...
	"Angelica!" another voice yelled sharply.  The girl whirled around to 
see Blake.  She instantly stopped jumping.
	"They won't let me see my Mommy!" she said, so angry tears were 
running down her cheeks.  "I want my Mommy!"
	"Maybe there's a reason you can't see her." Blake said, looking at 
the little girl.  She looked so much like Tamitha sometimes it hurt.  Her hair 
was brown, but it curled in almost the same way.  And she had the same 
type of wings, with delicate 'hands'.  The main difference was that she only 
had three fingers on her hand in place of four.  But she was about the same 
skin color as his daughter had been, and there were elements of her face that 
were exactly the same.
	"It's because Mommy's scared again." she said, setting her jaw.  
	"How about you come with me?" Blake said, smiling and reaching 
his hand out to her.  "And when your mommy feels better, we'll go see her, 
OK?"  Alexander's face darkened, but he said nothing.
	She stared at his hand.  His daddy was the reason Mommy felt bad, 
but she couldn't blame him.
	"OK." she said, and slipped her little hand into his.  He tightened 
his hand around her, then gently led her away.
		***		***		***		***
	She looked up at him and smiled.  Her smile sent a wave of pain 
through him--when she smiled, she looked so much like his dead daughter 
that it hurt with an intensity he hadn't felt in a long time. 
	He covered it quickly.  So, what would you like to do, 
Tam...Angelica?"
	"Who's Tam?" she said, her brown eyes wide.  Blake felt ready to 
kick himself.
	"Tam...  Tamitha.  My daughter." he said, closing his eyes.  
	"Is she dead?" the little hybrid said, her eyes wide.
	"Yes." he said, lowering his face a bit.  "She died."  He fell silent.  
No matter how much he like this little girl he would never be able to forget
that it was her mother's fault that his own child was dead--or as good as, 
anyway.  Better that Tamitha had died than to be left as she had been...
	"I'm sorry." Angelica said, patting his hand with her little one.  
Something in the man softened in spite of himself.  
	"It's OK." he said, smiling at her.  Then, "Would...Would you like 
to see what she looked like?"
	"Yessir." she said, smiling back.
	"All right.  C'mon.  Let's go over to Sparta.  I have a few videos of 
her..."
	"OK." the little girl said, skipping and pulling the man along behind 
her.
		***		***		***		***
	"Look.  That's Tamitha when she was your age." Blake said, 
pointing.  Angelica's eyes widened slightly. 
	"She looks like me!"
	"A bit, yes.  She had about the same amount of gargoyle in her as 
you do."
	The girl shook her head.  "No, no, no!  She looks like me!  Don't 
you see it?" she said, hitting a button to freeze the frame.  She turned to 
him.  "I know what I look like.  I look in the mirror and she looks like me!  
That's why you always think her name when you see me!"	
 	Blake frowned.  "What?"
	"I know sometimes what people think.  You think Tamitha when 
you see me." she said, her eyes wide and certain.  "Now I know why.  We 
look alike."
	He shrugged.  "That's true.  Your grandmother is my genetic 
mother, after all.  Elisa Maza."
	"I thought Athena was your mother."
	Blake frowned.  "My genetic make-up came from Elisa Maza.  
Athena is no longer my mother, and stopped being my mother when she 
left."
	The girl fell silent.  "Oh."
	"So, if you look at it, your mother is my half-sister.  So you're my 
niece.  And that's why you look like my daughter.  The two of you would 
have been cousins." he said, working it out in his head for the first time.  
There.  That actually made a lot of sense for the very strong resemblance the 
child had for Tamitha.
	"OK." she said, smiling faintly.  "Who's that?"
	"Mistra.  My...wife." he said, his smile fading.  His eyes narrowed.  
She had abandoned him, too.  And because she--and the others--had 
abandoned he and his father, they had been helpless when Xanatos had 
come.  And because of her, his daughter, his beautiful daughter, was in a 
state worse than death.  And because of this little girl's mother...  Well.  
That was not his concern--he had his little plan about that, too--he was 
going to have his revenge on 'Turandot' for Tamitha...
	"You don't have to talk about her if you don't want to." Angelica 
said, her eyes wide and dark.  She put her hand over his.
	Blake smiled in spite of himself, then hugged the little girl.  "You 
are a sweet little girl, you know that?"  Without knowing it, she was part of 
his plan.  He kept it far from his surface thoughts, knowing the girl could 
read those.  He had his plan worked out for a long time, or at least aspects 
of it.  The only question was how much did he want to see Turandot suffer?  
A short, extremely painful time with no hope, or a long, lingering time with 
hope stabbing like a knife, then slowly beginning to fade away, like he had? 
	"Thank you." she said, hugging him back.  Then she looked at him 
and smiled.  "Can we go back and check on my mommy now?"
		***		***		***		***
	"My daughter....Where is my daughter?!!?" Christine yelled, sitting 
up.  "I want my daughter!"
	"She's..."  Alexander began, biting his lip.  He had no clue where 
Angelica was.
	"I want my daughter!" Christine yelled again, her eyes blazing.  Just 
as she was going to get up and start looking for her, Angelica came running 
in.
	"MOMMY!" she yelled, jumping into her mother.  Christine hugged 
the girl tightly.
	"Oh, sweetie." Christine said, running her fingers through her 
daughter's hair.  "Am I ever glad to see you!"
	"I'm glad to see you, too." she said, resting her head against her 
mother's chest, settling herself in her mother's lap.  "I was out with Blake."
	"Oh?" she said, frowning slightly.  Alexander shrugged.  "Was Dr. 
Straussmore there, too?"
	"No." the little girl said sharply.  "I don't like him.  He's scary.  
And he's not a nice man." the little girl said, her face drawing in.  Then she 
smiled.  "But I like Blake.  He took me to Sparta and we looked at pictures 
and videos!"
	"Oh?  Of who?"
	"Of his daughter Tamitha.  Mommy, I look like her!" 
	"Oh?"
	"Yeah!  Her hair was curly like mine, but red.  And we have the 
same smile!  Blake said it's because we were cousins."
	"What?" Christine said, rising her eyebrow.  "No...my biological 
mother was Elisa Maza.  His is Athena."
	"Nope.  He said his genetic make-up comes from Elisa Maza, 
whoever she is, so he and you are half-brother and sister."
	Christine frowned slightly.  "I suppose you're right." she said.  She 
looked at the little girl.  "I suppose you *do* rather resemble her."
	"Did you know her?"
	"Not really.  I saw her once or twice." she said.  It wouldn't do to 
tell her child that she had been the one to kill Tamitha Straussmore.  Well, 
maybe 'kill' wasn't the right word.  As she understood it, Tamitha still 
lived.  As a vegetable, but she was still alive. The girl had the misfortune of 
trying to 'reclaim' her grandfather and father.  Christine had just learned that 
little trick of hers, and Tamitha had been the first to fall victim--outside of 
the Mutates she had practiced on, but they didn't really count, they didn't 
have too much of a personality to begin with.  Alas, it hadn't been a very 
pretty 'death'--what worked well on a simple Mutate just didn't as well on 
someone else.  But Christine had learned a great deal from the experience, 
and the girl's 'death' had at least been a useful one.  But the Straussmores 
didn't *quite* see it the same way...  "Honey, I want you to do me a favor 
and stay away from the Straussmores.  All of them."
	"Why?"
	"Because...they don't like me very much." she said.
	"Oh."  The little girl frowned slightly.  "But Blake is nice to me."
	"Just do as I say." her mother said, narrowing her eyes.  She didn't 
like how Blake sometimes looked at Angelica--he was plotting something 
behind his dark eyes.  An eye for an eye?
	"Y-yes, Mommy."
		***		***		***		***
	She was back the next day.  "Well?"
	"Get out.  I'll tell you when I'm done."
	Christine crossed her arms under her breasts.  "You do *not* speak 
to me like that, human." she said, spitting out the word maliciously.  "Oh, 
wait...you're not human anymore.  My mistake." she said, smiling.
	His face darkened.  Damn the little witch.  Already turning the 
screws...
	Christine's smile widened.  She had no idea why Xanatos'd ordered 
her to torment Straussmore however she liked, but she was rather getting 
fond of the assignment.  Yesterday had been strange, but she was better 
now.  She had no clue what exactly had set that annoying little reaction of 
hers off, but at least it was gone now.
	"Oh?  And how *should* I talk to you?" he said.  
	"Shortness is not a wise plan when dealing with someone who 
could kill you in, oh...four or five seconds."
	"You give yourself too much credit."
	"Oh, now you've insulted me." Christine said, her hands on her 
hips.  "A freak like you?  Easy.  I *practice* on Mutates 
more...*interesting* than you." she said, smiling.
	"That confidence of yours will get you hurt one of these days."
	"Oh?  And who is supposed to hurt me?  *You*?"  She threw her 
head back and laughed.  "Your brains are even more addled than I thought."
	"Don't you have better things to do than annoy me?"
	"Oh, I *annoy* you?  Is *that* all?" she said, her eyebrows raising.  
She smiled.  "It doesn't do to lie to an empath, Doctor.  I know *precisely* 
what I do to you."
	His face settled into a sneer.  "I don't care anymore."  He went back 
to looking over specs.  Maybe if he ignored her, the little whore'd go away. 	He should have known he'd never be that lucky.  She started 
looking over his shoulder, reading.
	"Do you mind?"
	"No."
	He sighed, his hands clinching into fists.  He was tempted to spread 
his wings and smack her with them, but the thought of what she would do 
with those little sharp talons of hers stopped him.  He began viciously 
typing, trying to tunnel into his work and forget that she was there.  He 
almost laughed out loud at that one.  The only way you ever knew she 
wasn't there was when she didn't want you to know.  Otherwise, she was a 
formidable presence.
	"Why are you doing that?" she said suddenly.
	"What?" he said, snarling.  "Listen, if you want this done so 
damned quickly, how about you go away?  I don't have time to explain how 
all of this..."
	"I want to know why you're rerouting the power through those 
circuits." she said, cutting him off brusquely.  "The way you've got it, it 
could overload if the dampners don't hold.  And look." she said, suddenly 
moving his hands out of the way and typing quickly, her face showing her 
concentration as she searched.  "Look.  See that?  You leave that like it is, 
and you'll cause Coyote's CPU to freeze up.  It'll get overloaded when too 
many programs run through the primary processor." she said, brushing a 
lock of hair out of her face.
	She was right.  It hit Straussmore with more surprise than he had 
expected.   
	She ignored his shock; her taloned fingertips pressing keys faster 
and faster.  "Here.  I've rerouted some of these functions through the 
secondary processor.  That should alleviate some of the problems that have 
been popping up."
	His jaw was hanging open.  She had reprogrammed the computer in 
a matter of moments.  "Maybe you should be doing this.  I know robotics 
and genetics, but getting kinks out of programming isn't as strong as you 
would think."
	"I noticed." she said, smiling faintly.  Her voice, surprisingly, 
wasn't mocking.  "I was programmed to be able to see through these 
things--I'm a hacker, after all.  I can spot the weak parts of a program.  It 
makes it that much easier to find ways in.  If I was trying to hack my way in 
to Coyote's CPU to take him out, with the way you had it configured, I 
would have simply rerouted a few more functions through the primary 
links.  And *poof*, Coyote suddenly freezes up.  What I did was create an 
extra secondary link, and add a quick program to make it so only a set 
number of things will be running though any one processor.  It means 
you'll have to upload more memory, but  it'll be worth it."   Her eyes never 
left the screen.  She began typing more, her eyes scanning as she hacked 
through the system.  She sat down on the armrest of his chair, all but 
completely ignoring him.  Occasionally, she would explain why she was 
doing something.  She stopped doing even that as she got more involved.  
Under her breath, she hummed gently to herself, cheerfully going through 
the systems.  She stopped humming after a while and just started singing.  
"Quand je vous aimerais?  Ma fois, je ne sais pas!  Peut-etre jamais!  Peut-
etre demain...  Mais pas aujourd'hui!  C'est certain!  L'amour est un oiseau 
rebelle, que nul ne peut apprivoiser.  Et  c'est bein on vain qu'on l'appelle, 
s'il lui conviene de refuser..., "
	"Oh, God, not that!" Straussmore yelled.  "Not that _Carmen_ 
song, please!  I'll never get that damned thing out of my head if I hear it!"  
he said, referring to the Habenera.  That song was too damned catchy for 
it's own good--once it got in your head, it wouldn't go away for weeks.
	Christine burst out laughing.  "That was a mistake." she said, 
grinning good naturedly.  She stopped singing sotto-voce and sang full 
voiced.  "Si tu ne m'aimes pas, si tu ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime!  Mais si je 
t'aime, si je t'aime prends guarde as toi!"  she sang, hamming the song up 
completely.  
	"I'm going to have to kill myself now." Straussmore said, snarling 
just as good naturedly in spite of himself.  He was actually having a semi-
civil conversation with the little wench.  He was in shock. 
	"Poor baby.  Look on the bright side, Straussmore--All I did was 
sing it.  I could have gone with the interpretation of a soprano who once 
said, 'The way I see it, if I get to the end of the Habanera and Jose doesn't 
have a hard-on, I'm not doing my job.'" she said, smiling.  "Anything that 
won't make you kill yourself?  There are far too few good geneticists 
around here."
	What in the...?  He decided to take advantage of this situation.  He 
thought about it.  It was obvious that she wasn't leaving until she'd gone 
through the entire CPU; he might as well be able to think about something 
other than how close she was or how much she looked like his wife.  
"Know any Mozart?"
	"Do I know any Mozart?  Pfft." she said, raising her eyebrows with 
amusement.  "Name an opera, any opera."
	"_Don Giovanni_."
	"How's 'Ah, chi mi dice mai'?"
	"Go for it."
	She settled back into where she was sitting and starting singing.  
She went back to typing.  He watched the screen as she typed, watching 
how she managed to sneak her way into systems in ways he never would 
have even imagined possible.  Despite himself, he had to give her credit.  
She knew her computer systems.
	She went from aria to aria as she checked the systems.  She'd 
occasionally stop to question him about why he'd done something or to 
answer a question that would pop up.
	"There!" she said suddenly, grinning.  "That should just about do 
it!" she said, sitting up straight and stretching out her back.  She blinked 
once or twice, trying to get her vision back to normal.  She rubbed her eyes.  
"I'm pretty certain I caught all of the loopholes.  I'll go over it a bit later, 
when my eyes go back to normal.  They feel like they're about to pop out."  
She rubbed her eyes again, then messaged her neck tiredly.  "Damned 
crick." she muttered under her breath.  All of a sudden, she felt 
Straussmore's hands on her neck.  She tensed.
	"Oh, relax.  You know damned well you could kill me before I did 
anything." he said, rubbing her neck.
	"I don't rela...ohhh." she said, her head suddenly flopping forward 
as the pain in her neck vanished.  Her shoulders slumped.  "I'll be damned.  
I relaxed."  she said, her voice suddenly sounding sleepy.  "Not bad, 
Straussmore."  He had good hands, she'd give the spineless weenie that.  
She was suddenly so relaxed she thought she was going to fall asleep sitting 
up.  That made her a bit nervous, but she also knew that being relaxed did 
one thing for her--it made it that much easier for her to create that nasty little 
psychic weapon of hers.  So if he was planning to trick her, he would find 
out rather quickly the first-hand fate of his granddaughter.    
	She suddenly sat up straight, her breath hissing between her teeth.  
"*Don't* touch me there!" she said.  She jumped to her feet, her breathing 
strained, her eyes narrowing.  He apparently knew quite a bit about 
gargoyle physiognomy, including that annoying little erogenous zone 
between the bottom of where the wings joined the back.
	"Now you know how it feels." he said, smiling as mocking a smile 
as she had ever given him.
	"I should rip you to shreds."
	"So sure *that's* what you want to do?"  He couldn't keep the gloat 
out of his voice.  He didn't even try.
	"So...the little mutate gets his teeth at last." she said, laughing.  It 
was a shaky laugh--she wasn't used to how she was feeling.  Of all the 
damned things to get gargoyle, she thought, annoyed.  I get a human 
reproductive system but gargoyle sensitivities.  Damn it.
	"Well.  This has been interesting." she said, her hands on her hips.  
She was going to leave before she did something stupid, like rip out his 
entrails.  Or rip off his clothes.  She felt equally capable of doing either one 
just then.  She damned her gargoyle side again.  Time to leave.  She started 
on her way out, determined to walk normally.
	"Oh, Christine..." Straussmore said.  She turned.  "You forgot 
this." he said, holding up her sai.  The sai she had left in his arm all those 
weeks ago.
	She held out her hand.  "Throw it to me."
	"Come get it."
	Her eyes narrowed.  "What are you trying to prove?"
	"Nothing at all."
	"Liar."
	"Perhaps." 
	She made a face.  Very well.  She went over to him and stood on the 
other side of his desk, holding out her hand, tense and ready for an attack.
	"You know...I rather think I'll keep this.  You never know when it 
will come in handy." he said, pulling it back to his chest.  Christine 
narrowed her eyes.  
	"Return the sai." she said, her hands on her hips.  He opened a 
drawer and dropped the sai in, then activated a lock before she could do 
anything.  "You little bastard!" she said, jumping on the desk then down to 
behind him.  He turned to face her.  She ignored him and began yanking at 
the drawer.  "If you think that puny little thing will keep me out, you're 
wrong." she said in irritation.  She began yanking harder  around 
Straussmore, not acknowledging him enough to even try to shove him out 
of her way.  His arm went around her and his fingertips began rubbing that 
little area that had disconcerted her so much before.  She sucked in an angry 
breath, her breathing beginning to go haywire again.  And she was trapped.  
While she had been so angrily focused on the drawer, he had her circled by 
his arms.  Normally, she wouldn't even have blinked--she would just break 
his arms and be done with it.  But this wasn't normal; her whole body was 
going limp.  A voice in her head started screaming for her to get back in 
control.  Her hands clinched into fists.
	"So how do you like it now, bitch?"
	She sucked in a sharp breath, her back arching.  "Bastard." she 
snarled.  She raised her hands to push him away from her.  She got her 
hands on his chest and pushed.  He didn't move.  At all.  That made her 
angrier.  
	He smiled a mocking smile in her face.  "Not too pleasant once the 
shoe's on the other foot, is it, you little whore?"
	"Go to hell." she hissed, her teeth bared.  "Let me go.  Now."  Her 
hands abruptly spasmed, her talons running involuntarily lightly down his 
chest.  She was hitting desperation stage.  She suddenly remembered her 
tail, and used it to knock one of his legs out from under him.  
	He would have fallen, but he was surprisingly agile.  "Nice try, 
wench."
	She hissed  again, then suddenly tried to spread her wings.  No 
luck.  He laughed in her face.
	"Why the hell are you doing this?"
	"Because I *can*."
	She was going to rip out his throat.  She raised one hand, her 
fingers curved into claws, to do it, when he exerted more pressure on her 
back.  She suddenly went completely limp.  "Damn you!" she hissed.
	"Damn you, too." he hissed back.
	She was not going to give into his sick little fantasy.  She was not 
going to willingly touch him, she swore to herself.  He was a mutated 
freak.  A *freak*.  She was *no...
	She let out a low, strangled moan.  "Bastard." she said, grabbing 
his shirt in her hands.  She pulled herself up and forced a bruising kiss on 
the mutated man.
	"Whore." he snapped back, biting her lip.  Her tongue snaked out to 
touch the blood on her lip.  With a roar, she suddenly shoved him back into 
the wall, her body pressing against his.
	"Son of a bitch!" she snarled, ripping his shirt open with her claws.  
His skin wasn't spared; he sucked in a sharp breath when she drew blood. 
	"Misbegotten little freak." he hissed back, lifting her off of her feet 
and spinning with her so she was slammed hard into the wall, then pressed 
against it by his body.  Her legs went around his waist and her tail wrapped 
around his left leg.  He snarled himself--his intention of just paying back the 
bitch was gone as he got swept up in his lust.  He pushed her harder against 
the wall, and ripped off her clothing.
	"Go to hell!"
	"I'll see you there first!"
	It was violent on both their sides, almost a mutual rape.   He wanted 
to hurt her; she wanted to make him bleed.  He had beaten her.  She took 
her rage out on him, drawing blood whenever she could, clawing, 
scratching and biting.  She had made his life hell, left him in a state he had 
never been in; made him remember the way he had been abandoned by the 
ones he had tried so hard to protect and had given everything--even his 
humanity-- up for.  She made him relive his inadequacies.
	And then she had laughed at him.  
	Well, it was his turn to laugh.  He made sure her tender flesh bore 
the brunt of his pent-up rage.  Seeing welts and bruises appear on the frigid 
'Turandot' only excited him more.  Seeing her blood gave him satisfaction--
she had drawn his emotional blood; now he returned the favor in the only 
way she was capable of feeling anything.
	She made a sharp moan under her breath.  Enraged that she had let 
out some slight sound--that he was *winning*--she dug her talons hard into 
his back until she could feel the skin give way to the claws sharp enough to 
rend solid steel.  He grimaced in pain and pleasure at the same time, and 
pushed into her so hard she winced.  "Whore!"
	"Go to hell." she growled.  Her back arched and she shuddered.  
"Bastard!" she screamed, the scream metamorphosing into a moan.
	He laughed in her face.
		***		***		***		***
	She felt ready to kill someone--anyone--who got in her way.  Well, 
so he thought he'd won.  "Hah." she spat out as she stalked the halls.  A 
guard looked at her quizzically, and she stabbed him with her sai as she 
walked by.  He fell dead, his face still showing his shock.  Well, that was 
unsatisfying, she thought, sneering at the body.  Three or four more to kill, 
and maybe that'll help...
	The bastard.  *Bastard*.  How dare he?  Touch *her* like that?  
Make *her* do things like that?  Oh, he was going to pay for this, she 
swore.  She was ready to use that sai to make him *much* less of a man 
than he was.  But she knew that that was far too obvious and that now was 
not the time.  No, she would get him when and in a way that he least 
expected it.  She was going to make him *suffer* for *this*.  She hoped he 
was proud of himself for now, but he wasn't going to be smirking long 
enough to boast that he had had the untouchable Turandot.  Hell, no.  
Christine snarled again, making so tight a fist that her talons dug into the 
flesh of her palms and cut them open.  She smiled at the pain--it was 
focusing her rage; clearing her head.
	So, dear doctor, she thought, her face metamorphosizing into a cold 
smile, you think you've won.  Well, you haven't.  I was stupid, and I 
won't be again.  I will win this.  I will always win, in the end.  This is 
*not* over.  
	"Not by a long shot." she snarled aloud.  "Not by a long shot."
		***		***		***		***
	The second she saw Straussmore the next day, she hauled him to his 
feet, forced him against a wall, and created her psychic blade.  Her arm was 
against his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe and holding him in 
place.
	"I should kill you right now." she hissed, her eyes burning.  Her 
blade was pointed right underneath his jaw, where his head joined his neck.  
"The only reason you're even alive now is because you're of some use to 
Xanatos.  But know this--when you have outlived your *usefulness*, I will 
be there.  And I *will* kill you." she said, ramming her forearm into him 
even harder.
	Straussmore just smiled at her coldly.  "Don't count on it, 
Christine."  He put his hands on her hips and forcefully pulled her lower 
body against his.  He was taller than she was by several inches, and he 
lifted her off her feet slightly in the process.  "Remember, my dear, I do 
have some control over you, where the you like it or not.  Remember?" he 
said, brushing her lower back.  She stiffened.
	"Bastard!"   Terror hit her in spite of herself.  So what if she was 
able to wipe the floor with him--*kill* him if she wished--it was a basic 
terror of someone who was physically smaller.  Completely irrational but 
there.  She refused to let it show on her face, but she couldn't stop her heart 
from speeding up or her skin from paling.
	He laughed in her face.
	Her eyes narrowed.  "Well, so be it." she said, her psychic blade 
vanishing.  Then she punched him underneath his jaw, right where her 
blade had been pointed.
	"Bitch!" he said, letting go of her.  She dropped back to her feet.
	"And don't you forget it." she said, smiling.  He snarled at her.  She 
only smiled.  "You see, Straussmore, that won't work again.  You got me 
once.  Once.  And never again.  And I'll make sure you *suffer* for what 
you did." She snarled, feeling ready to kill him for just making her afraid; 
for reminding her that she was smaller and weak and that she had been 
vanquished before.
	"We'll see." Straussmore said, smiling his own predatory smile.
	She turned on her heel and started to stalk out.  He reached his desk 
and pushed a button.  The door slammed shut and locked.
	She whirled to face him.  "Let me out."
	"Not, I think, just yet." 
	She let out a fierce roar and jumped on his desk.  Crouched, she 
grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him upwards.
	"Open it *now* or I kill you regardless of your usefulness to 
Xanatos or not."
	"Nervous, my dear?  Wary of being alone with me?  Whatever for?  
Mainly because you know I can take you any time I want now, and there's 
not a damned thing you can do about it?"  He smiled.  From her expression, 
she was completely unaware that she was breathing faster and her skin had 
begun to flush. 
	She hit him in the face.  Anything to get rid of that cocky sneer.  He 
only smiled.  She went to hit him again, and he caught her hands.
	"Nuh-uh-uhh." he said patronizingly.  She lashed out with her foot 
and kicked him in the stomach.  He grunted, but used the fact that she was 
now balanced on one foot--and in a crouch--to knock her onto her back.  
	"Bastard!" she hissed.  This was not good.  She was flat on her 
back on his desk--and it hurt to hell because she had landed on 
*something*--and he was leering over her.  She kicked him again, but used 
her foot to carry him over her and flying across the room.  He didn't let go 
of one of her hands, and it hurt until his own momentum pulled him free.  
She jumped back into a crouch and then jumped on top of him.  She looked 
down at him and laughed.  "Oh, no, Doctor!  I made a mistake once, and 
I'll never make it again.  You may think you have control, but you *don't*.  
I do." she said, narrowing her dark eyes.  Athena's eyes.  "I am not 
Athena.  I am *Turandot*.  The assassin.  The weapon.  And I *will* kill 
you." she said, her hands around his throat.  "'But not, I think, just yet.'" 
she said, letting go and standing up, her voice a mocking parody of his as 
she regained control, puttin ghim back in the submissive role and reclaiming 
her domincance.  He gasped for air, sneering.  Bitch.  We'll see.  
	She went to the door.  "Oh, and Straussmore--this is what I think of 
your attempts today." she said.  Suddenly, she kicked the door, her foot 
moving so fast he couldn't see it.  The door split in half.  With a roar, the 
hybrid yanked the door free and threw it across the room, soparing above 
his head and crashing into the opposite wall with so much force it shattered.  
She turned and gave him a disgusted look, her lip slightly raised and a fang 
bared.  "This isn't over, Straussmore." she snapped, and vanished.
	"Not by a long shot." he said, smiling confidently from the floor.
		***		***		***		***
	She was breathing hard.  Rage.  The rage was almost blinding.  She 
suddenly had no other desire than to go back and break his neck.  But she 
wouldn't--that would show that he had some kind of power over her.  Hell, 
no.  She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was 
causing her to spiral out of control.  Her control was all she had had for a 
long time.  She went to her quarters, and changed quickly into her battle 
armor--a skintight exoframe of black liquid metal.  Only her face, hands, 
and wings were left bare.  She picked up her *bo*--a wooden staff.  She 
was in the mood to do some damage to something--or someone.  She went 
to the gym and programmed several combatants, all armed to the teeth.
	"Let's play."  she hissed. "Computer, begin!"
		***		***		***		***
	She wiped blood away from her nose.  A lucky shot, she thought 
angrily.  I'm too distracted.   She had only programmed about twenty, and 
one of them had managed to draw her blood.  She was even more pissed 
off.
	"Care to try a human combatant?"
	She whirled.  "Hello, Blake." she said, smiling.  Blake Straussmore 
said nothing.
	"Hand to hand." he said, eyeing her bo.
	"Very well." she said, smiling.   She tossed her bo aside.  Her smile 
widened and took on a predatorial quality.  She immediately went into a 
fighting stance.  It was a parodied one, as she did not expect him to be 
much a challenge.  The fact that she obviously didn't take him seriously 
stung him.  He was beginning to understand why if someone so much as 
mentioned "Turandot" or "Christine" around his father, the man tensed up 
and looked ready to strangle someone, usually muttering "bitch" under his 
breath.  He felt sorry for his father, having to be so near the arrogant little 
witch all the time.  
	He threw the first punch, and she blocked it effortlessly.
	"Oh, surely you can do better than that?  Come on, little 
Straussmore...give me *something* resembling a challenge!  Maybe I 
should be unarmed and you should have a weapon."
	"So confident, Turandot?"
	"Yes." she said, her smile widening.  She was tempted to kill the 
man here and now, as a punishment for his father.  But she wouldn't--not 
only was it too obvious, but there would be no real satisfaction in killing 
such an unworthy opponent.  Besides, she had no *real* reason to kill 
Blake, other than she was just in the mood to kill.  She decided to play with 
him.  She'd let him seem to have the upper hand, then abruptly snatch it 
away from him throwing him derisive comments while she did so.  She 
laughed to herself, like a little girl.  She was completely confident.  She 
went to swipe his feet out from under him, when the unthinkable happened.  
She lost her balance.  She ended up on the floor, hard.  He immediately 
pinned her to the ground.
	"Oh, how the mighty have fallen." Blake sneered in her face, 
making sure she was held down completely.
	Christine looked up at him.  "I wouldn't go that far." she said, her 
eyes narrowing.  He was hurting her wrists, but damned if she was going 
to show it.  She bared her teeth, then suddenly wrapped her legs around his 
waist.  She squeezed tightly, and he winced in pain.  She rolled her hips to 
one the side, then quickly to the other, and they ended up with him pinned 
under her.  In order to avoid his trying to pull the same maneuver on her, 
she sat on him so her knees were on the floor.  If he tried, she could get her 
legs around him again, and this time break a rib or two.
	He struggled to get free, but couldn't.  She had her hands on his 
elbows, pressing them to the ground.  "You see, little Straussmore, *this* 
is what happens when you're too confident." she said, smirking.  "Or if 
you think you're more powerful than you are."
	"Are you listening to your own advice?" he said, glaring at her.
	She laughed.  "Oh, so the little Straussmore has his teeth, too!  
Well, this has been a week for surprises!"
	"Don't call me that."
	"What would you prefer?  Cousin?  Or maybe 'brother'?  Please." 
she said, rolling her eyes, then narrowing them.  "Stay away from my 
daughter, Blake.  She's not Tamitha.  She never will be Tamitha.  Tamitha 
is a soulless *husk* who should have been put out of her misery long ago."
	"BITCH!" he roared angrily.
	She smiled.  Her tongue touched the tip of her lips as she savored 
feeling that sudden upsurge of raw pain.  She could get used to this.  
Especially since she had the feeling she wouldn't be playing with 
Straussmore anymore.  He had up and changed the rules on her.  But little 
Blake...heh.  He considered her family, for better or worse.  A blood 
relation.  A half-sister.
	This had possibilities.  And who knows, she thought with a grin to 
herself, I could use him to get back at Straussmore.  Drive a wedge between 
them.  Payback's a bitch, after all...  And the bastard was nearby, too...
	The little bitch is getting off on this!, Blake thought to himself.  She 
was grinning, her whole face flushing slightly.  He knew she was sadistic 
and enjoyed the way other people's pain felt, but he would never have 
expected her to be so obvious about it.  She was mocking him.  She 
obviously doesn't think I warrant her even trying to deny this, he thought 
angrily.  Her smile widened as his thoughts darkened.  Her breathing 
quickened slightly.
	"You little witch.  Get off of me."
	"First things first." she said, her eyes narrowing as she got back to 
business.  Business before pleasure, after all.  "I want you to stay away 
from my little girl.  If I find out you're ever anywhere near her, I'll rip you 
to shreds." she said, her teeth baring.  Her claws dug painfully into his 
arms.  He winced in spite of himself.  "I think I've made myself pretty 
clear."
	"Crystal." Blake said, feeling blood running from where her talons 
had cut him.
	"Good." she said.  She suddenly smiled.  Straussmore was there.  
She could sense the bastard.  She leaned down and kissed Blake on the 
cheek, close to his mouth.  She heard Straussmore suck in a harsh breath.  
"See you, *little*...'brother.'" she whispered in his ear.  She jumped up to 
her feet and headed out the door, smiling secretively.  She brushed past 
Straussmore, her tongue touching her lip and her eyes flashing. 
	Blake was sitting up and staring after Turandot.  "Freaky little 
witch." he muttered to himself under his breath rubbing his bruised rib 
cage.  Straussmore, meanwhile, looked ready to strangle someone.  So.  It 
would seem the light was shed.  Now he knew who she had been muttering 
about.  With the way she had looked, her face flushed and her breathing 
somewhat erratic...
	Her 'love'.
	His son.
		***		***		***		***

Turandot:
	Percuotete quei vili!                Beat down those villians!

				To Be Concluded