dochermes

"The Chimera Is Back!"

6/19/-6/22/2012

I.

Haley's landings needed so much work. Summoning tornado winds to lift her into the sky and even to travel at a hundred feet up was relatively easy with the Air Gem. But lessening those winds gradually and coming down to the ground safely was much more difficult. The concentration needed was so demanding that she couldn't get it right.

So the Windcatcher was practicing over Lake Schoonmaker, eight miles from her home in Glenville, Long Island. Sitting on the white sand shore were her two best friends and romantic couple for more than a year, Gina and Bentley.

Descending to twenty feet, Haley swept back the heavy blue cloak over her shoulders. It was a big help in guiding her flight while in the air, but a real nuisance at the moment. She dropped her legs down, spread her arms out wide and her thoughts wandered for an instant as a fish broke the surface nearby. That was all it took. She plummeted straight down with a mighty splash.

"Drat this anyway!" she spluttered and began stroking toward shore. Tall at seventeen with long legs, she was a strong swimmer who loved the water but at the moment she was vexed beyond endurance. The wet heavy cloak weighed her down like a blanket. Her chestnut hair was tied back in a ponytail but her bangs were too long and hanging in her eyes, dripping heavily.

Standing with his feet in the water, Bentley held a cork lifesaver ring he had taken from his uncle's pool. This had been his idea. He watched Haley drawing nearer without being able to hide his concern. If she seemed to be struggling, he was going in to help her whether she wanted it or not.

Gina Giacomo had come over to stand beside him. Italian on both sides, she was widely considered by the boys to be the sexiest junior at their high school. That day, she was wearing the bottom half of a blue bikini with a fuzzy white long-sleeved shirt. She had no intention of getting in the water after all the time she had spent preparing her long mane of curly black hair.

"It was that fish, Hales!" she sang out. "I saw it. He deliberately screwed up your landing."

Plopping down on the sand, panting after the exertion, Haley unsnapped the cloak and let it fall to one side. "I'm exhausted. My head is killing me. This flying is like doing trig in your head while riding a bicycle uphill. Movies and comics make it look so easy!"

A few feet away were two white beach towels covered with bottles of sunblock, a bag full of empty soda cans and crumpled up potato chip bags, three cell phones and an oversized pair of aviator sunglasses. Getting up on her feet, Haley lurched over there and dropped to her knees to claim the last can of Mountain Dew. "Whew. Thanks for being ready with the lifesaver, Bentley. You're the best."

"He IS. I landed a great boyfriend," Gina added. "Listen, Haley, while you were up there swooping and soaring and whatnot, I saw something on the news that might interest you."

Winging out the soaking wet cloak to let dry in the warm June sunlight, Windcatcher asked, "Like what?"

"Here, I saved it." Shading her phone's screen with one hand, said, "Let's see. Umm, there have been sightings in Danverton of a mysterious man in a purple costume. He beat up three men who were trying to rob an elderly gentlemen on North Wall Street Saturday night. Wednesday at two AM, he chased away a creep who was following a woman walking home from Rustler's Dance Club and made sure she made it to her apartment."

"That's what I should be doing!" yelped Haley. "As soon as I get a little better control, I will patrolling high crime areas late at night. Well, at least until school starts up."

"Sounds like Long Island has another super-hero," Gina said. "Listen to his description. A tall athletic man wearing a purple jumpsuit with black riding boots and a hooded mask which covered his face except around his nose and mouth. On the front of his shirt was a white silhouette of some strange animal neither witness recognized."

"Oh my God, the Chimera!" blurted Haley. "I read all about him when I was little. That was ages ago. He disappeared around the time I was born, late 1995. I couldn't get enough about him. Officially, the police made statements calling upon him to stop his unlawful vigilante crusade but, you know, somehow they never showed up until he was gone. I figured they watched from a distance and only moved in to clear up after Chimera was off the scene."

"There's more," Gina said. "Known from notes he left naming himself as the Chimera, the masked man subdued a gunman who had robbed a liquor store and left the perp tied up with his own belt and shoelaces. In the summer of 1994, he smashed up two Asian massge parlors staffed by underage Korean girls brought into the country illegally. He left the girls at the local FBI office in Manhattan and their testimony led to the arrest and conviction of the owner on human trafficking charges."

"You see why he was my hero?! I still have a scrapbook of newspaper clippings about him somewhere," Haley laughed.

"How come he never got shot?" asked Bentley.

"What?"

"Haley, I know you're nuts about super-hero comics but they've given you seriously unrealistic ideas. I don't care if you're the world's greatest master of kung fu and karate, you can't charge at armed men without getting shot. And it says he did this not once but at least five reported times." Bentley shook his head. "It smells fishy."

"Aw, your feet smell fishy," Haley scoffed. "Maybe he was very very lucky or maybe he's a former Navy SEAL or something. What I want to know is how he can still be active. That was a long time ago."

Gina said, "Hey, suppose he was in his mid-twenties back then. He'd be forty-five today. That's not ANCIENT! My dad is forty-six and he runs three miles a day in all weather. I bet my dad is stronger than any of the wrestlers at our school."

"Maybe your dad is the Chimera," offered Haley in her sweetest, most innocent voice.

"No such luck. Mom watches him like a hawk. If he tried sneaking out at night, she'd bust his eardrums with her yelling."

Haley had that familiar far-away look that warned of trouble brewing in her lime-green eyes. "So where has the Chimera been all these years? Why has he gone back into action now? What's his deal anyway?"

( the rest of the story )

"Ratface"

(6/29/2012)

I.

They met at Bleak's favorite spot, a sports bar on Eighth Avenue near the corner of 48th Street. Wary as always, Bane stepped to one side as he entered so he would not be framed in the light of the doorway. His eyes adjusted instantly to the dim interior of the bar but his most suspicious scrutiny saw nothing that could be a viable threat. Two college age guys playing pool and cracking insults at each other, a fat man at the end of the bar staring up wistfully at the barmaid as she wiped glasses without knowing he existed, a couple in a booth reading something together in the NEW YORK TIMES. The place smelled of beer and echoed with the commentary about a baseball game on the TV mounted up high in one car. Everything here was the same at it ever was. Just another late afternoon at HOME PLATE.

Standing there for that one second as he took the situation in, not moving or even looking angry, Jeremy Bane still had something ominous about him. In his forties, six feet tall and lean to the point of almost seeming skinny, Bane was wearing his trademark outfit of black slacks, turtleneck and sports jacket which made him look even thinner. In a narrow face under short black hair, his grey eyes spotted Bleak in a booth and he finally relaxed just a bit. He had been at war all his life and it took an effort for him to ease up. It helped knowing that one of the few people he trusted was nearby.

Bane walked back to slide onto the seat facing his old friend. "I see you've already ordered," he began.

Now seventy, the man known as Bleak was not an intimidating sight at first. Under average height and spare in build, he was wearing dark blue pants and a white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled back a turn. In front of him was a half-finished double cheeseburger and he was dipping a French fry in a smear of ketchup on his plate. Bleak seemed harmless at first. But once someone got a got look at those sharp blue eyes and the alert mind working behind them, Bleak suddenly became a little unsettling.

"Hey there, Dire Wolf," he said. "I wasn't sure if I should call you. This may turn out to be nothing but it is certainly odd."

"Sounds promising," Bane commented. The barmaid came over. She knew these two by now and she knew that they usually ordered some food and left decent tips. Bane asked for a hot roast beef sandwich, onion rings and ice tea. When Bleak held up his empty beer glass, she took it with her for a refill.

"Okay, Bleak, you have a sighting for me?" the Dire Wolf asked when she had brought his beer over and left again.

"No. Well, there is that Ratface business. I have a few tips on that. But I wanted to talk to you about something else. A teenage girl was asking me about you."

Bane did not know how to respond at first. "Like how? Do you think she's working for an enemy and gathering information?"

"Nah. When I say teenager, I mean like maybe thirteen. A kid. She came up to me in the library on 42nd Street, I was doing research on this 19th Century architect who had some theories about what attracts paranormal activity. Anyway, she walks up to me and starts talking as if we know each other. It was a quiet room, so I took her out in the corridor and asked her what the deal is."

The steaming hot roast beef on a club roll arrived and Bane dug in. Between bites, he motioned for Bleak to continue.

"I was getting uneasy," the old man said. "This kid knew my real name. She knew what I was doing back in the 70s in my days as Single Cross. She said her hobby was the Midnight War."

Bane swallowed and paused in his attack on the sandwich. "That's real unusual, Bleak. Most people who are interested in the supernatural never find out about the Midnight War. It's not for everyone."

"Yeah. So I figured like you did, that someone had sent her to set us up. I dunno, Wu Lung? Quilt? Avathor? We've both got a long list of people who wish us harm, buddy."

Watching Bleak thoughtfully, Bane said, "But you don't seem worried. If you thought it was an enemy using this girl, you'd have warned me to be on my toes. What's your opinion?"

The old man finished the last of his food, wiped his mouth and leaned back in satisfaction. "She really wanted to ask me all about you. Every detail of where you live and where your office is and whether it's true you can outrun a car or wrestle a tiger. But she mostly wanted to know if you had a girlfriend."

The sudden dismayed expression on Bane's normally grim face was comical to see. "Oh, come on. There must be some mistake."

"Nope." Bleak sipped his beer, enjoying his friend's confused reaction. "If you ask me, this girl has a major crush on you."

"On ME? How does she even know about me? I'm not a public figure, I keep as low a profile as possible. Something is fishy here, Bleak."

"Feh. Little girls go all crazy over rock stars and basketball players and God knows who else. I think you've just started collecting groupies, buddy."

Bane did not find this amusing, but then he really had no sense of humor in any case. "Name? Description?"

"Said her name was Sarah, but she didn't tell me her last name. Thirteen is my guess. Short kid, five foot three or so, a little cutie to be honest. Straight brown hair, medium brown eyes, a round face with some freckles. She was wearing round-rimmed glasses with quite a prescription from the looks of 'em. I'd say she's nearsighted enough she'd have trouble navigating with them off."

"Damn," Bane said. "Did she say what she wanted from me? I can't help but think there's something dark behind all this."

"Nope, that's it. Watch out for jailbait, buddy. Remember, fifteen will get you twenty, har har. Listen, Jeremy, seriously. I also wanted to talk to you about Ratface. I know you've been following the killings."

The Dire Wolf snapped back to attention. He seemed to have drifted off in alarm for a second at the thought of having a little girl for a fan. "Oh yeah, Ratface. I'm interested in that, I thought it was a typical werewolf at first but two witnesses swear he looked like, well, a humanoid rat. What have you got?"

"To start, he's intelligent and can talk in his monster shape. That's rare. Two bruisers I know have been invited to join a gang that Ratface is forming. Nothing big, just maybe a dozen strongarm guys to help with extortion and robberies. Imagine a gang where the leader is superstrong, superfast, has claws and fangs and best of all, ignores bullet from cops or other gangs. Lots of mugs are interested in signing up."

Bane nodded. "See, this is what I should be concerned with. Not a supposed teenage groupie." Without warning, he swung completely around to glare at the wide picture window showing Eighth Avenue outside the bar. No one was standing out there, just the usual tourists and natives walking by.

"Getting a little jumpy there, Dire Wolf?" asked Bleak with barely concealed glee. "Afraid you're being stalked by a teenybopper?"

( the rest of the story )

"The Teen Tyrants"

11/1-11/5/2012

I.

Four o'clock in the morning. In a furnished basement complete with a huge flatscreen TV and professional quality sound system, three fifteen-year-olds set up their chairs behind a polished mahogany table that had been upstairs in the dining room. According to Bossy Girl, they had at least two months before the family who owned this house would be back from their South American cruise and the three Tyrants could trash the place if they liked.

The one called Bossy Girl took a seat between the two boys. She was a strawberry blonde with a good trim figure and an oval face that was basically pretty despite some acne. The purple sweater and purple jeans she wore clashed horribly with her coloring. Maybe this was deliberate. She gave her two partners impatient stares as they took their time getting settled.

To her left, Friction Boy tilted his head back as far as it would go to get the last drop from the can of Death Sentence Energy Drink. He was a tall gangly kid whose arms and legs seemed too long for his body. Lank black hair hung down over his face and swung over his neck. Friction Boy was also in a monochrome outfit, a bright red long-sleeved shirt and red sweatpants. He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand and enjoyed a belch.

"That stuff will kill you and I'm not kidding," Bossy Girl told him. "Someday your heart will just blow up inside your chest."

"Who cares?" he said. "It's my heart and my life."

On the other side of the girl, the second boy laughed. Halo Boy had a square good-looking face under a buzzcut so short he might as well have shaved his head and gotten it over with. He was wearing a black pullover with white collar and cuffs, but wore white pants that had vertical black stripes and the effect was slightly confusing. "There's worse stuff you could be drinking," he said. "Like what your old man finishes off every night-"

"I told you to shut up about my dad!"

"Both of you, stop talking," Bossy Girl barked in a voice that had a strange echoing quality to it. They obeyed instantly but fixed resentful glares at her. "That's better," she said. "Let's get real here. We have three applicants tonight, I bet Rubber-Arms will be showing them down here any minute. Let's impress them."

"Hah!" snorted Friction Boy, tossing the empty can under their table. "If they know enough about us to wanna join, they must already have a healthy respect for the Tyrants."

"True that," Halo Boy agreed. "Even the cops have learned to leave the Teen Tyrants alone. We've got this miserable little town under our thumbs."

Raising one hand in a typically imperious gesture, Bossy Girl said, "Has either of you heard any theories about why so many kids are developing weird powers? Doesn't it seem... ominous?"

"Nothing on the news. I checked Whazzup.com for the local chat and there's nothing," said Friction Boy.

"It sure worries me," Halo Boy admitted. "People seem afraid to even talk about it. In the past year, there must have been twenty high school kids suddenly being able to change their eye color or to turn TVs on and off by looking at them. But no one is willing to say anything."

"Maybe they're right to be afraid," said Bossy Girl. She looked back and forth at her two partners. "Look at the three of us. Since last winter, we have been able to rob Sedgewick blind and the cops act like nothing is happening. What's going on?"

She paused as the door at the top of the wooden stairs opened. A boy their age stuck his head in and said, "They're here." He was wearing a white T-shirt with the logo SCARABS FINAL WORLD TOUR on the front.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Bossy Girl snapped. "Come on, let's go."

Led by Rubber-Arms, two more girls and a boy came down the stairs hesitantly. They seemed a few years older than the three already seated at the table, maybe seventeen or eighteen.

"Welcome to the Teen Tyrants auditions," Bossy Girl announced as if speaking to an audience of thousands. "Let's get this over with. You, the Oriental chick, what's your ability?"

"Uhhh, hi," said a tiny Asian girl barely five feet tall. She was bundled in a down-filled parket and ski pants. In one hand, she held up a gallon jug of bleach. "I call myself Iron Stomach."

"Yeah? I've eaten Chinese take-out," scoffed Halo Boy. "I think we all qualify for that name!"

Ignorning the chuckles from the Tyrants, the girl unscrewed the cap on the white plastic jug and showed them the unbroken aluminum seal. "See? Untouched. Pure bleach." She peeled off the foil, raised the jug to her mouth and took several long gulps.

Next to her, a taller girl with auburn hair and green eyes sniffed audibly. "Whew. That's bleach all right."

Lowering the container, Iron Stomach licked her lips. "See? Not hurt in the least. I can eat rat poison or drink kerosene and it doesn't bother me. That's my power."

Bossy Girl slapped her palm down on the table so hard everyone jumped. "REJECTED!" she shouted. "Why are you wasting our time with a power so useless? Rubber-Arms, get this loser out of here."

The Asian girl's face screwed up as she fought not to cry. "But I-- I thought--" The boy in the white T-shirt placed a hand on her back and steered her toward the stairs.

The next candidate was a black kid bundled in a maroon hoodie and baggy pants, with his face shadowed in the cowl. He was an inch or two over six feet tall but with a noticeable paunch. "I guess I'm up to the plate, then. Call me Street Skunk. You see, I developed these glands a little while ago and when I feel threatened or angry..."

"Rejected, rejected!" Bossy Girl yelled. Her voice developed that far-off echoing quality again. "Do not use your power. Leave this building and never return."

As the applicant meekly obeyed, Halo Boy exhaled and covered his face with both hands. "Jeez. Your power sure came in useful, Beth."

"Use our code names, Halo Boy," she retorted. "Don't slip up again. Okay, girlie, you're up next. Name and ability?"

The final candidate grinned and stepped up to the table. She was tall at five feet eight, showing off toned legs in snug white shorts and with a long-sleeved blue pullover. Aside from the rich chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail, her most striking feature was a pair of bright lime-green eyes. "I call myself Celsius Chick," she said confidently. "Here's a quick demonstration."

The teen pressed her open palms in front of her and bowed her head as if in prayer. Instantly, the air in that basement swirled violently as the temperature dropped below freezing. Frost formed from the moisture on the table and walls, and the Teen Tyrants saw their own breath hang as vapor in front of their faces.

"Wow!" said Friction Boy. "That's awesome. I'm shivering."

"Not bad," Bossy Girl admitted. "I see your ability could be useful in robberies."

"Wait, wait," Celsius Chick held up a hand. "That's only half of it." Again, wind rushed through the room and the air temperature shot up within seconds to be unbearably hot and muggy. The sudden change in extremes left the Tyrants breathless.

"Awright, awright already," said Halo Boy. He was wiping a sweat-covered face with the back of his hand. "We get it. Knock it off."

The basement returned to its normal warm dry levels. Standing with arms folded across her chest, Celsius Chick smirked at the three teens lined up in front of her. "I can actually make things much hotter or colder, enough to be fatal. If necessary..."

The Tyrants looked back and forth between themselves, nodding and reaching an agreement. "You certainly seem qualified for membership," Bossy Girl said. "We do have to get to know you better. You'll have to stay here for a day or two and go with us on a looting expedition. You down with that?"

"Oh, absolutely," answered Haley Lawson. The Windcatcher lowered her arms and placed her fists on her narrow hips, still smiling with relief. She had never worked undercover before.

( the rest of the story )

"Timothy Limbo and His Friendly Ghosts"

12/22/2012


I.


It was getting dark when Bane found a parking spot on 17th Street. A stiff wind was blowing from the river but there had been no snow so far this winter. He locked his dark red Mustang and looked around warily, turning up the collar of his long black coat. Bane wore thin leather gloves but no hat and the wind ruffled his hair. Now in his mid-fifties, he was showing a few grey strands here and there, but his narrow face remained unlined and his age would be hard to guess. The cold grey eyes still glared out at the world with innate suspicion. The message on his phone had only been two words, "Gramercy Booth." Bane hated cloak and dagger sneaking around, but curiosity was one of his strongest traits.

The streets were oddly almost empty, although Christmas shopping season was in full blast. Maybe the crowds were taking a breather before swarming out again. The Dire wolf entered Gramercy Park and found the statue of Edwin Booth. He had seen it before; there weren't many parts of Manhattan he hadn't explored as a street kid. This was an actor who had been the brother of John Wilkes Booth. As he approached, a woman put out her cigarette and turned around to face him.

She looked different from the last time they had met. Her dark red hair was very short now and she had started wearing lipstick, but the freckles and the startling blue eyes were the same. She was bundled up in a down-filled coat and scarf and wool hat, and as she ditched her cigarette, she tugged her white gloves back on. "That was quick. I expected you might have to think it over for a while."

"Hello, Signet. I wasn't doing anything tonight, so I figured why not."

She stepped closer. "I had nothing to do with that last bit of business, you know."

"Fair enough," Bane said. "The Mandate and I have to live in the same world but we don't pretend to like each other. Let's be as honest as you can be with spies. There are times when I can be useful to your bosses... a loose cannon they can aim at something they're unable or unwilling to tackle themselves.".

"Ah, Jeremy. You refuse more requests than you accept, I hear."

"They know that. If I agree with their targeting, I'll go along. If not, too bad. They have tried to eliminate me in the past, you know." He was still scanning the area suspiciously. "What's the scam tonight?"

The woman called Signet was watching him thoughtfully, "My organization is concerned with the safety of this nation and its people."

"They're spies, Signet. A certain amount of deceit and deception goes with the job. Never mind that now. Who do they want me to handle for them?'

She moved in so closely she was almost whispering in his ear. "Major Buchinsky. A rogue Russian."

"What, the KGB again?"

"No, he was actually from Army Security forces. He went renegade last year. Somehow he has a small army all his own he stations around the world. He does a lot of dirty work. Kidnapping, interrogation, extortion. We believe he is in the metropolitan area."

"That makes him of interest to me. I think I want to meet him, got a description?"

"Six foot one, two hundred and fifty pounds. Black hair, brown eyes. Usually wears a mustache, sometimes glasses. Heavy accent. Will you take care of him?"

"You mean, will I kill him for you?" Bane said. "I'm not your assassin. I answer to myself." He started to turn away, but she touched his arm.

"One more thing, a name. Timothy Limbo."

Bane said nothing and she went on, "Do you know him? Buchinski seems interested in someone of that name."

"Wish I could help," said the Dire Wolf, turning on his heel and walking away. "Maybe I'll investigate."

As Signet watched him leave, she did not notice a vague, almost invisible wisp in the air next to her. It could have been smoke or fog, but it swirled near her and stayed with her as she headed to the next street over. The woman opened her car door with a beep from her key fob and got in, not seeing the wisp float in behind her. As she started up the neat little Audi, pulling out into traffic and heading north, the vague form hovered behind her head.

( the rest of the story )

"Windcatcher"

5/27/20012

I.

Seeing a gas station ahead, Bane pulled in and filled the tank, then took a minute to check his tires and get his bearings. Long Island was not his usual territory and he had been surprised to drive for an hour before reaching Glenville. It looked a little too perfect to suit him... the wide tree-lined streets, the rows of local banks and pizza parlors and antique stores, the Lutheran church with its spire on a hill overlooking the town. Somehow he felt uneasy, distrusting an area that seemed so perfect in its small town way. It was not just imagination. A lifetime in the Midnight War had sharpened his instincts. He would swear something very dangerous was close by.

Standing next to the gas pump as he screwed the cap back on his tank, Jeremy Bane seemed as out of place as he felt. In his mid-fifties at this point, with only a few grey strands in the thick black hair and some lines showing on the narrow feral face, he was still the Dire Wolf. Still dressed all in black, turtleneck and jacket and slacks, still glaring out through pale grey eyes as if looking for trouble, Bane was not someone who invited a feeling of warmth and trust. Now, he climbed behind the wheel and pulled out into the minimal traffic on Main Street, looking for the address he had been given.

It was a warm but breezy late June morning, and he had the windows down as he drove slowly. There! Partition Street. There was still time to hang a sharp left and head down that side street. The numbers of the houses were odd on the right, even on the left and he spotted 11 Partition Street as a two-story white frame house with an attached garage and a trampoline in the back yard. No one was in sight, but parked in front of the open garage door was a red Explorer. Bane pulled in behind it and got out, wondering why he felt more ill at ease here than he did in seedy waterfront bars or Times Square back alleys.

Then a young girl's voice sang out from the roof, "There he is now!" Startled and annoyed for not having spotted a watcher or possible sniper, Bane stepped hard to one side and his left hand snapped to the holster in the small of his back. Standing casually on the crest of the roof as if completely safe was a teenager. She was above average height, thin, with dark chestnut hair and bangs down over light green eyes. Her white long-sleeved pullover, snug dark blue shorts and white sneakers were not remarkable, but the full-length cloak of bright blue material was. It whipped around her as if tugged by a strong wind, even though the air was still.

As Bane stared, taken completely by surprise for one of the few times in a long career, the girl dove off the roof like a swimmer into a pool! He yelled and lunged forward, arms out in an attempt to catch her but she swerved in the air and glided around him in a wide graceful circle. The Dire Wolf watched the teen lower her legs and land lightly on the asphalt of the driveway as if she had stepped down off a curb.

"Hey there!" she said, raising a finger to one eyebrow in a mock salute. "Haley Lawson, the Windcatcher, Long Island's own super-hero. You must be the guy my mother mentioned, Wolf Man right?"

"Dire Wolf," said Bane. "Yes. Lisa Lawson left me a message to come out here. I knew she had two daughters but in my mind they were still toddlers."

The girl grinned, a slight overbite that made her pointed face appealing. Those lime green eyes jumped out beneath the dark bangs, and she knew they were a striking feature. "Yeah well, babies grow up. Come on in." She swung around, the cloak twirling around her and opened up the screen door to the house and screamed, "Mommmmm! Your friend is here!"

Completely as a loss, Bane followed her into a living room with wood-panelled walls and recliner chairs facing a huge TV. The couch had piles of clothes on it. Coming in from another room was a woman about forty, with the same auburn hair and green eyes as Haley, but thick around the middle and with faint lines at the corners of her eyes. She held out her hand and Bane shook it.

"Hello, Lisa, I drove out here as soon as I got your message."

She smiled warmly at him and then turned to her daughter. "Haley, this is Jeremy Bane. I know you're not impressed because you're too cool, but this man has fought more monsters and psychos than you could fit in our yard."

"Yeah, right, I bet you say that about all your friends," the girl answered as she shoved clothes around on the couch so she could plop down.

Lisa Lawson gave the girl a withering look that was ignored. "I wanted boys," she said as if to herself. "Here, Jeremy, have a seat. Thanks for coming. Do you want some coffee? Tea?"

"No thank you," Bane dropped into one of the recliners and smiled at Haley examining her fingernails as if life depended on it. "I haven't heard of the Heirs of Buliwyf in years. Last I knew, you were exploring some of the adjacent realms."

"Yes." She settled in the other chair and studied him. "We received those talismans by mere chance. You know, you were there. And we tried to use them well, but frankly none of us were meant to be adventurers. Charles was most suited for fighting of our family and he got tired of the stress and drama soon enough. So we mostly wandered the realms as a hobby. Once in a while, you or others called on us for help."

Bane said nothing, waiting. Lisa went on, "Honestly, none of us have even used the talismans for months or years. Sometimes it seems like it was a dream. But then this child got hold of the Air Cloak and claimed it."

"That's right," Haley said cheerfully. "You don't use it, you lose it."

Lisa Lawson sighed and went on, "Haley's father died before we were to be married.Pneumonia. It's been hard raising Haley and Lindsay by myself but I've done my best."

"Is Chuck still around? Cathy? I haven't heard anything about them in ages."

"They were both fine the last I knew. Jimmy, too. Just leading ordinary lives. Chuck manages a landscaping company and Jimmy is a trainer at a health club. He got his degree in PT. Cathy was working in an office but I don't remember what specifically she did. But they all ended up down in a ritzy area of Maryland, too far away to be handy."

The Dire wolf turned in his chair and looked Haley in the eye. "That's a powerful talisman you have appropriated. Did it bond to you?"

"Oh, sure, Mom hadn't put it on in centuries. The poor thing was ready for a friend." Haley was checking him out. "Do you have those silver daggers on you? Can I see 'em?"

"In a while. So, the Cloak can not be used by anyone else and will only answer to your will. And it's not really the cloak itself but the Melgar jewel in it that manifests gralic force. I imagine by now, you have experimented with it and found its uses?"

"Well, duh. Of course."

"Have you summoned arctic air?" Bane asked.

"Have I what?"

"The jewel in the cloak helps you fly by summoning tornado winds from somewhere in the world and placing them under you. It's a talisman that works by transporting. You can also call up air from Death Valley to hit something with a blast of 120 degree heat, or call air from the Antarctic to throw a wind at 40 below. You didn't know that?"

"No," she said in a small voice. "I use it to fly and to knock crooks down. Once I put out a brush fire by forcing all the air away from it."

Now Lisa smiled. "You see, Mr Bane here has something he can teach you. Are you ready to listen?"

Haley looked uncertain. "I guess."

"Wait," interrupted Bane. "What's this about knocking crooks down?"

She turned impatient eyes on him. "These guys held up a pharmacy in the South Wood Mall. I was there with my sister and saw them running to their car, so I hit them with a wind that threw them to the ground and pinned them up against a wall. I also broke up a fight, two guys were arguing in front of a bar on South Street and one of them had a knife, so I blew them across the parking lot before anyone could get hurt."

"Does anyone know it was you who did this?" Bane asked with anxiety in his voice.

"Absolutely. It's no secret. I call myself Windcatcher. I expect mostly to use the Cloak to do rescue work and help out in emergencies, but I'll fight crime when I get a chance."

"Stop. Hold it. Lisa, does she understand what she's saying? Does she realize the danger she is placing herself and you in?"

"Too late now," Haley interrupted. "I know what you're thinking, Mr Bane, but what kinda crooks do we have here? Shoplifters, a drunk driver on Saturday night? That robbery was the first one around here in my lifetime. I don't expect to be going up against terrorists with grenade launchers or anything."

"Nevertheless.." Bane broke off. What could he do about this? He had no authority over these two. He was not even a law officer. "I, uh... I don't think it's the best idea. Isn't that obvious?"

Haley got to her feet and stretched. "What's done is done. I am going to patrol the town and look for cats in trees that can't get down." She headed for the door, and her mother said, "Just a minute, do you have your phone?"

"Like I go anywhere without my Droid. I could use a few dollars for food."

Her mother dug in a pocket and pulled out a twenty and a five, "That's all I have on me. I know it doesn't do any good to tell you, but be careful."

"Love you. Bye, Mr Bane." Haley took a step out the door, tornado-speed winds roared around her and she hurtled up in the sky as Bane realized his mouth was open.


( the rest of the story )

"The Walls Between the Worlds III - Vendigor"

3/2/2012

I.

On the trip up from Manhattan, Unicorn and Jocelyn had started off stiffly formal but had soon warmed up to each other. Ashley Whitaker was so chatty and genuinely interested in people that Jocelyn responded to her questions about Australia with a candor she had not shown before. Behind the wheel of the rented Ford van, Jeremy Bane relaxed a tiny bit. If they had not gotten along, the mission would have been more difficult than it already was.

The last two weeks had been excrutiating for Bane. He was impatient and restless at best, and spending long days searching through Kenneth Dred's letters and notes and journals for possible clues went against his basic nature. It was maddening that they had so little to go on. In his head, he went over the basic problem as he had a thousand times. Three enigmatic beings from the Darthan Age had turned up in the summer of 1957. Ugamesh, Azalin and Vendigor. They were powerful but almost nothing was known about them. Mark Drum had apparently managed to imprison all three beings in different spots shortly before he himself was killed. There was a prophecy that when "the Three Sleepers joined hands, the Walls Between the Worlds would come down." This was interpreted as meaning a virtual apocalypse as the armies and creatures from the adjacent realms would be able to enter the real world...

"Hey, Jocelyn, let me ask you something," Unicorn said, turning around in the passenger seat to face the Aborigine girl in the back. "Did you ever hear that Australia used to have a huge inland sea?"


( the rest of the story )

"THE WALLS BETWEEN THE WORLDS - Ugamesh"

1/8/2012

I.

Hunting the hunters. Three men wrapped in long coats and topped with wide-brimmed hats walked slowly through the freezing winds and crossed Bleeker Street at the corner. Two stayed close together, but the third held back a full block behind them, even more furtive. This part of Greenwich Village never seemed as well lit as surrounding neighborhoods. There were no 24- hour pharmacies, no shops with window displays lighted up all night. Every window was dark, there was not even one with the ghostly blue flicker of someone watching television. At only eleven-thirty at night with a wind chill hitting zero, the Village seemed like a ghost town, empty of life.

Except for one tall slim woman in a pea coat and scarf, who trotted quickly down the street. Behind her, just far enough back that she might not spot them if she turned suddenly, were three stalkers. The two nearer ones quickened their strides, drawing closer to the woman as if getting impatient. But, although the three men did not know it, they themselves were being followed. A gaunt figure all in black, moving without sound from shadow to shadow, tracked them like a hungry predator. Once or twice, the third stalker slowed and glanced around, but the man following him froze up against a wall or in a doorway and escaped detection. At one intersection, the figure in black suddenly rushed forward in a blur, seized the third man and hauled him off his feet to carry him into a dead-end alley between two buildings. There was a sharp cracking noise, the only sound made during the capture, and then silence again.

Lowering the stunned man to the chill bricks of the alley, Jeremy Bane took a pencil flashlight from a jacket pocket and narrowed its beam to a thin line. He played it over the man, studying the face and hands. Dark olive skin, thick lips and high arched nose, glossy straight black hair. Bane searched the man and found a long-barrelled .32 pistol and a short wide-bladed knife, both of which he confiscated. All this had taken only a few seconds. Yanking a pair of handcuffs from the back of his belt, the Dire Wolf knelt and snapped the cuffs to fasten the man's right wrist to left ankle. If he gets up in that condition, Bane thought, he deserves to get away.

( the rest of the story )

"May Dusa - Threat Or Menace?"

8/4/-8/5/2012

I.

Entering the living room with her second cup of coffee that morning, Lisa Lawson regarded her seventeen year old daughter with bemused affection. Haley was curled in a ball on the couch with her legs tucked up under her, her arms folded and her head drooping so the gorgeous auburn hair hung down like a curtain to conceal her face. She was rocking half an inch from side to side.

"That is the best performance I've seen in a while," Lisa said, dropping down into an easy chair facing the couch. "Did you join the Drama Club at school?"

For a reply, Haley emitted a low quavering sigh that started down near her belly button. She raised her head. Those large lime-green eyes were her best feature and, although they were sad, no moisture indicating immediate tears was noticeable. "I went and got the mail."

"Yeah, I have the same reaction when I see the bills." Lisa Lawson did not much resemble her daughter, being four inches shorter than Haley's five feet eight and sporting glossy black hair instead of deep red. But their eyes were a family trait and almost identical. "Oh. Oh, you got the results about your driver's license."

"Yes. Busted. Failed. Flunked." Haley sat up straight and smacked her forehead with the back of her hand. "It says I failed to change lanes when turning left from a two-lane one-way street but I do NOT remember it that way."

"Ah, honey, practice and take it again. You know, Jimmy failed three times. His parallel parking is still atrocious." She put down her coffee cup. "I saw the half-finished bowl of Chocolate Rice Krispies by the sink. How about some scrambled eggs and bacon to balance your innards?"

"No, thanks, mom." Haley bounded upright with the ease of youth. She was wearing her usual Navy blue shorts and white long-sleeved pullover. "I crave action! Excitement! The thrill of fighting evil will lift my spirits."

"What on Earth have you been reading, child?"

"Comics. BLAST WOMAN is my favorite. It gets me stirred up in the mood. Did I tell you I'm meeting your friend the Wolf Man next week?"

"Jeremy Bane is called by some the Dire Wolf," Lisa repeated. "Not Wolf Man. Yes. If you insist on using the Air Gem to get into situations where you're likely to break your neck, having him train you is a good idea. Just take his advice and respect him like he's your Marine drill sergeant, he knows what he's talking about."

Haley started from the living room but hesitated in the doorway. "Mom. You're not TOO worried about me being Windcatcher, are you?"

"Of course I'm worried. What do you think?" Lisa stood up and went over to her daughter and placed a hand on each shoulder. "But God forgive me if I don't remember I was as stubborn and reckless at your age. The risks I took. Ugh, makes me shiver to think about. But somehow I trust you. You think quickly on your feet and you're barely sensible enough to draw back if the situation s seem too dangerous."

"You're the best!" Haley laughed as he rushed from the parlor to the staircase leading up to her own room. A few seconds later, her voice drifted down, "Mommmm! I'm going out the window! Back by suppertime!"

"Be careful, dear." Lisa Lawson exhaled and slumped back in her chair. Once, before Haley had been born, it had been Lisa who wore the Air Gem and wielded its power to summon everything from hurricane winds to monsoon rain to Arctic blasts. That had been long ago and, she wistfully realized, it was further faded by time every day.

In her neat tidy room, noticeably free of frills and decorations but ornamented by an acoustic guitar in its case and stacks of books covering horrific crimes, Haley clasped the collar of an ankle-length dark blue cloak around her neck. Fastened at her throat was a lovely oval-cut blue gem that resembled pale tourmaline. She checked the slit pockets in her shorts for the few items she carried as Windcatcher, then flung up the wide window as high as it would go. A warm sunny August morning beckoned to her.

Sporting the widest grin her cheeks could handle, Windcatcher squeezed up onto the ledge of the window. She concentrated with full focus of the image she wanted, drew on the ancient mystic power of the Air Gem. From somewhere in Kansas, tornado winds at two hundred and sixty miles per hour shot her out and upward into the sky.

( the rest of the story )