The Zahncliff Institute: Chapter 3

3

What am I?

Adam

One can never know when a person is ready to know the truth about themselves. Sometimes, they claim they are ready, claim they can take it. But more often than not, the truth kills them.

One of the many things we do at the Zahncliff Institute, is take a blood sample. Usually, the employee does not know. This is how we find out if we have a wolf hiding in a sheep's wool; this is how we discover species.

Milly came to work for me twelve years ago, a woman who out-right claimed to be of Valkyrie descent. As such, she can smell out the others, which makes her a more than useful asset. Some call us demons. Others say we are messengers of God. I believe that we are simply a different kind of child. Either way, we have been hunted for millenia. My mother taught me that we are all children of the Father. Some of us are just..... Special.

Many use their abilities for ill; but some, like us, choose to help the Father's Other children. And so, we exist. The Institute. Many of our patients are not, as believed, dangerous, or for that matter, insane. Most, like Munro, are completely sane. His species are a very gentle folk, and tend to be a bit hermit like. But there are those who would threaten to expose us.

Destra. Old blood. She doesn't know it, but her kind is ancient and powerful..... Most likely, it was passed down on her mother's side. Many who had the Sight were accused of Witchcraft, but they are oceans apart.

It is the ability to see what others do not. She doesn't know how to use it, yet. She is going to break, and soon. Her last View was this Monday, and before that, it was only three weeks ago. They are getting closer together. I wouldn't be shocked if her next one was in just a few days.

Then we'll have to explain.

**

Adam

It has happened. Milly can tell. Destra called up, and was barely understandable on the phone. She was gasping, and her voice kept breaking. When I heard a thud, I knew we were needed immediately. I hurriedly called for a member of the Security Detail and a couple of medics. We loaded into a white, unadorned Suburban. We didn't want to draw too much attention.

When we arrived at her building, we climbed the stairs up to the third floor. The door was locked, and the apartment was silent. I gave the word, and the door was forced open. A silver web lay over the room, meeting at the place where Destra lay. Everything pulsed with light, and as we approached Her body, several Will O 'the Wisps scattered, their high delicate giggles rising up to meet our ears, and sending a shiver down our spines.

The webs had formed a cocoon of types around Destra. Her eyes were open, but had turned a milky white. They were darting around the room, seeing things the human eye could not detect. The medics gingerly lifted her limp form, and set her on the stretcher they had brought. She mumbled nonsense, and her face became worried. Then, she settled, and her face resumed its normal posture. We took her gently back down the stairs, and loaded her into the suburban.

“Don't disturb her!” I said, as the medics prepared to wake her, “If she is woken prematurely, she may very well become a patient.... Just let her rest. She will come to in her own good time.”

We waited hours. Once she had been placed in a bed in the hospital wing, the silver webs pulsed back over her body, and crept silently across the sheets. Finally her eyes cleared, then closed. The web pulled back, and sank into her skin. She slept without Sight.

**

Destra

My head felt like it had been sliced, diced, and deep fried.

Nah, that's not a good comparison.

Think more along the lines of being tied underneath a train, then driven over a track of nails.

That will work.

For a few minutes I couldn't remember what had happened. Then I remembered the murder. But this time the headache didn't come. I realized I was in a hospital bed. It was dark. I flipped over, and also realized I couldn't feel a thing.

Wow, they must have me on some AWESOME drugs!

A loud snorting-ripping sound interrupted the quiet. I felt myself jump. Slowly I sat up, and looked around. In a chair a few feet from my bed sat Adam. He was sound asleep, and snoring. Loudly.

Man, what I wouldn't have done for a large stick. I tried to go back to sleep, but his unreliable growl was driving nuts, and hunger made me clench my stomach. Then I saw the light.... Literally. The door at the end of the wing opened, and a soft yellow light came pouring in. This was quickly blocked by an immense female figure. She silently came over, lifted Adam into the air, and lay him down on one of the beds.

Milly

The giantess came over to me.

“How are you, dear?”

“Well, I feel like I was attacked by a gang of biker gorillas, but I'll live.” My stomach growled as if on cue.

“I can guarantee you'll be feeling much better after a wee nip.” She helped me out of bed and onto my feet. That was when I noticed I wasn't attached to anything. No drip, no needles, no tubes. And yet my limbs felt heavy and ungainly, like I was just coming off of some specialty Juice.

“Come on then! If we hurry, we can get the cinnamon rolls while they're hot!” Milly bustled me out of the hospital and downstairs to the kitchen. I was very aware of this particular room; it was just down the hall from the Art room, and was always supplying me with normal tasties.

As we got closer to the sacred-supplier-of-tasty, the smell of baked goods reached me, and I could hear the kitchen ladies gossiping as they worked. I also heard two male voices. As soon as we entered the kitchen, the light stung my eyes, and the noise suddenly became to much.

“Whoa, girl! Sit for a minute.” Milly guided me to an empty counter, and lifted me up. I leaned my head against the back wall, and closed my eyes. My head relaxed, and I slowly opened them. This time it didn't hurt.

“Here, dear, eat this.” I was handed a fresh white roll, still warm from the oven. I tore off chunks at a time, and munched on them with glee. As soon as the first baked good disappeared down my gullet, another was quickly placed in my hand. Once my stomach wasn't threatening to implode, I turned and inspected the mixed group of people residing in the kitchen: Milly's tall, impressive self was in a fluffy purple bathrobe, with large plush slippers to match. She was having a milk drinking competition with the large bearded grower who provided most of the Institute's food; The goblin-like lunch ladies were cheering them on, shaking their gnarled fists and encouraging Milly in their rough, New Yorker accents; And off to one side was an oober-geek. I mean, oober geek: He was a tall lanky stick bug of a man, with meticulously groomed hair the color of dung (Do excuse the comparison.... My head was still a little funky), and olive eyes magnified by a pair of glasses that looked like they had come straight out of an eighties cop show. The broad shoulders of a white lab coat hung off of his thin frame, and made him look like he was playing in his dad's clothing. A name tag hung from the pen-filled pocket on the left side of the coat.

Then I realized with a jolt that he was staring at me with those owl-eyes. I started to pay special attention to the wheat roll in my hand. Then he was next to me. He cleared him throat;

“Ahem.” I kept looking at my roll.

“Excuse me....” Taking on a surprised look, I turned to him.

“Yes?” I replied, smiling sweetly. He blushed, and shoved his hands into his trouser's pockets.

“I-I'm Darwin, I-I work in Intelligence......” I put my hand forward.

“And I'm Destra, but something tells me you already knew that.” He turned an even darker shade of red.

Oh, Destra, you're a mean one..... Stop it!

“Well, I did but...... I, of course, well, wanted to, umm, meet you myself..... Word of you has come a ways! Even into the basements.....” I thought about that for a second, then nodded.

“I guess I'll take that as a complement?” Darwin made a few funny faces, then looked down at his ratty sneakers. He then looked like he wanted to ask me something, but faltered.

“Is there something wrong?” he looked back up and re-adjusted his glasses again.

“Has Mr. Zahncliff told you yet? I mean, what you are?” What I am? What the heck is that supposed to mean!

“Nooooo........ Why?”

“Oh, never mind!” he said, and started to turn away.

“Listen, if I'm going to grow lumps all over my back and sprout wings, or something like that, I want to know about it!” The Nerd pulled his shoulders up until they touched his bright red ears.

“I don't know anything! I just thought you might know by now....... I mean, obviously you're something, but I don't know what, I mean--” He was cut off by the ever-perfect timing of Milly.

“MacKenzie, what in Valhalla's holy halls are you telling this girl?” She had quite the milk-mustache going, and had placed her hands on her huge hips. Darwin turned a luminescent white, and his knobby knees started to shake.

“N-nothing, M-Milly! I, I just was talking, I mean, there isn't a law against that... Yet.” The Norse-Woman glared down at him.

“Go to bed, Darwin, or Adam'll have your head in the morning.” He took one more look at me, then scurried away into the hallway like a rat. Milly sighed and shook her head.

“That boy......” she looked at me “You, madam, are going back to bed also! Come with me!” She led me out of the bright kitchen after saying goodbye to her friends, and at first the dark made me trip.

Eventually, after what seemed like ages of twisting and turning, I was back in the hospital bed. I hadn't realized it, but I was still not functional; as soon as I hit the sheets, I was out like a rock.

**

Darwin

She was like a goddess! Beautiful, silky, lustrous copper hair, swirling, chocolate brown eyes, perfect pink lips.......

“MacKenzie, are you okay? You seem a little out of it today.” I jumped, but of course, I hid it.... I mean, I tried, but you know, sometimes it doesn't work....

“Darwin! Woo-hoo!” a callused hand flew back and forth in front of my face, and I swatted it out of the way.

“Sorry, I, um, am just, well, thinking about.... Other stuff.” Justin 'Fur Ball' Quicks stared at me hard. Then he grinned wickedly.

“You have the hots for someone!” I floundered. I do that a lot....

“No I don't! I mean, that's a very immature term! I might have possibly noticed someone, but I don't have 'Hots' for anyone!” Fur Ball just leaned back in his computer chair, and laced his hands behind his head.

“You're over reacting: sure sign of it, bub.” I shrunk into my seat. Here across from me sat the King of all Lady Magnets; he could usually be found flirting with the nurses, the nurse's daughters, the lunch lady, or the various female instructors. He was charming, handsome, charismatic, bold, sure..... Everything I wasn't.

He pushed his blond hair out of his face, and arched his eyebrow.

“So..... Who is it?” I concentrated on my keyboard. It needed a good, loving scrub. Fur Ball started stroking his well-groomed beard.

“Okay, let me guess: Amy, the tennis instructor?” I ignored him.

“Mel, the massage therapist?” I'm not listening....

“Terra, the communications geek?” I gave him a look, and he grinned. We both knew no one in their right mind would ever date the toad-faced, humorless ruler of the Line.

Then a light came on in his eyes.

“Destra, the new chick upstairs?” My ears betrayed me by growing hot, and turning as red as a fire engine. Fur Ball's eyes grew wide.

“Dude! No way! Have you actually talked to her yet?” He leaned in as if he wanted me to dish.

“Well, kinda, I mean, Milly interrupted me, and Destra was gorgeous....” Just then, a chat screen popped up on my computer monitor. I looked close at it.

“Um, who is KnottyBarbie42? And why is she asking if I want to 'Get together'?” Fur Ball clicked his tongue.

“Sorry, sonny, that ain't for for you! Can you slide over real quick? Thanks....” I sighed, and went over to the small black snack fridge in the corner of the room.

Before I could pull out a soda, someone knocked on the door. I was about to open it, when Fur Ball got up and suggested I take my lunch break. I took his not-at-all-obvious cue, and left by the other door. Before the lock had clicked, I heard the tell-tale giggles of yet another female friend of Fur's.

She was in the cafeteria. Just a few tables away! Her eyes sparkled, her hair glistened, and her smile was radiant.....

“Hey, sorry about kicking you out earlier..... A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do!” She was sitting next to that Hollywood-wannabe Gorgon, and that big hairy guy-- Sasquatch..... Hardly fitting company for such a beauty....

“Hello! Earth to nerd!”

“Hmm? Can I help you?”

“Well?”

“Well, what?” I finally tore my eyes away from Destra, and glared at Fur.

“Are going to pine all day, or are you going to talk to her? Cause if you're not gonna, I'll be right back....” I blanched.

“I....I.... Don't you dare! I'll talk to her, just give me a sec....” Fur looked at me doubtfully, and sighed impatiently.

“Fine. One, two, three, four.....” He got up from the table, and headed toward Destra.

“Wait! Don't! I'm coming! Don't you dare, or I'll--” He was at her table. I caught up, gasping.

“Oh, hey.... Darwin, right?” She was talking to me!

“Um, yes! Hi Destra.....” Fur interrupted me.

“Hey, look, my buddy here wants to ask you out, but doesn't have the guts to do it. Would you mind taking him out, I know of this great little Italian place....” Destra's eyebrows jumped up in surprise, and I punched Fur's arm. Lucky for me, she turned on him, too.

“Okay, look buddy: Darwin here may be a great guy, but I'm not interested.” My fellow computer junkie crossed his arms.

“Well then, how about you and me go to the Italian place? I'm sure you can't refuse--”

“You really don't get it, do you? I'm not interested. I'm not ready to get serious with anyone. I'm not the kind of person who just goes around with every other guy, either, so don't get any ideas.” She turned back to me.

“Listen, don't take this wrong, I just really hate when people act so.... So....”

“Jerky?” I said timidly.

“yes!” The big furry guy chuckled.

“It's okay, I know what you m-mean.... This whole thing was his idea, n-not mine.” She laughed.

Her musical, wonderful laugh....

“Alright, well, I'll see you around!” She wanted to see me again!

“Okay! W-will do!”

I think I just heard angels singing.

Fur and I headed back to our table, his pride greatly deflated. Serves him right! You never approach a goddess like that. Mortal women are easy prey to such as him, and since that is all he has ever known, he was struck a terrible blow! In front of the entire cafeteria, no less!

I felt myself glowing, I felt like I was floating! I risked a glance back over at her. She was animatedly telling her companions a story.

Oh, to be at that table right now.....

**

Adam

After lunch I had Destra come to my office. When she arrived, she casually took a seat in the chair on the other side of my desk.

“So, what am I in trouble for?” didn't expect that.

“Why would you assume you have done something wrong?” I asked.

“Come on, I used to get called into the principal's office all the time! That's the only time I ever visited anyone's office, and usually if was because of graffiti..... Not that I'm doing that anymore!” She looked far more uncomfortable then.

Okay...

“Destra, you are here because I want to explain what happened to you yesterday morning.” The red-head across from me visibly relaxed.

“Oh. That.”

I laced my hands.

“Do you know who your parents are?” Destra looked offended.

“I thought you were going to tell me what the heck happened to me! My parents have nothing to do with this!”

**

Destra

Heat rose into my cheeks, and my stomach boiled with anger. You might think I was overreacting, but you didn't know my parents. Heck, I barely knew my parents.

When I was six, I had my first headache. I went into my mom, and told her my head hurt. All I remember is the fear and utter disgust that was there. That night, she tucked me roughly into bed, grabbed a duffel full of clothes, and slammed the door as she left. My dad searched for her every waking moment. He slowly gave up. To fill the gaping hole left in his heart by my mother, he started to drink. I guess he hit a point where he couldn't take it anymore; when I was eight, he loaded up on pain killers, and drunk until he passed out.

He never woke up.

State sent me to live with his mom. My mom's mom, March Seville, was in an insane asylum, suffering from delusions. Grandma Ellen loved me, took care of me, and never deserted me. She introduced me to religion, art, music..... all the things that are truly important.

So, one tends to hold a little bit of a grudge towards parents that desert you..... One also tends to really hate when people assume that all of your redeeming qualities come from your parents.

“As a matter of fact, your parents might very well have everything to do with it. You've had these headaches your entire life, correct?” I nodded silently, and Zahncliff went on. “In your blood, a sample of which we took when you first arrived, you have specific markers that tell us your mother passed down a very old ability, something that has been around for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years; you have the Sight.”

well, that was fairly anti-climatic!

I moved my hair out of my face.

“And this is special because?” Adam sighed, and drummed his fingers on the desk.

“Because, it is very rare, very useful! Oh, but I will have you know, it does not mean you can see the future, or see through metal,or anything silly like that.”

Your kidding me!

“Then what is the point! I've had my head split open for nothing? Really?” He rolled his eyes, and shook his head.

“It's a magnificent gift! Allow me explain: You are able to see the complete picture. You are able to piece together the puzzle, put things where they belong, make sense of things others can't make sense of. The Sight is a way to unlock the doors of the unimaginable.”

I sat back and stared at him.

“You're pulling my leg, aren't you? I mean, none of this even makes sense! If it is such a 'profound' gift, why did I go into a coma when I found out about the murder?” I said, eying him real good.

“Before the gift emerges fully, it doesn't matter if the thing that you notice is particularly important. We knew about the murder minutes after it happened. Just another death in the big city.” He finished.

“So, ribbon person--”

“Girl.”

“Okay, ribbon girl. She just happened to get murdered? What killed her?”

**

Adam

This woman was sharp. She knew to ask What, as opposed to who. Of course, technically it was both, but since we didn't yet know who the murderer was, I decided not to correct her on this point.

“From what we can tell so far, it was a werewolf.” Destra raised an eyebrow.

“Those guys have quite the record of gore and guts in this place, don't they?” She didn't know the half of it. She didn't need to know that we suspected (Although it was not yet proven) Eldridge's brother, Nickolas Vansluys.

“Yes, yes they do.”

Chapter 2: Lock And Load

2

Lock And Load

The next morning, I was running late. My coffee maker had exploded, my dryer over-heated and melted a nylon shirt, and my car didn't want to start. Finally, just to be on the safe side, I unplugged everything in my house, got on my bike (Angrily kicking at it when the chain stuck), and made my way slowly up the street.

When I got there, once more the black iron gates loomed ahead of me. But this time they seemed to signify safety, rather than menace. I once more spoke into the microphone, and once more was allowed in. I think at that moment, I had been holding my breath-- I guess I was afraid that today it would be that yesterday hadn't happened, that I wouldn't be accepted into this strange new world.

Once inside, I was lead once more to the art room (After a quick visit to the utility closet for brooms).

I looked out at its chaotic terror, and steeled myself. This was going to take a while.

**

Adam

Shockingly, working out payment is boring. I wholeheartedly welcomed the interruption from Milly that came shortly after eight. It helped that she brought up a large mug of fresh coffee.

“The Girl knows how to work. Went straight for the broom, and attacked that room like a mad woman! One would think she has Viking ancestry the way she wields that mop...” Milly broke off there, and took in my undoubtedly haggard face.

“Adam, when did you get to bed last night?” I tried to busy myself organizing papers, but she pressed on. She placed her hands on her hips (always a dangerous sign).

“Adam, you will answer me, or so help me, I will revoke your coffee supply.” I looked up at her with what I hoped was an endearing expression.

“Now, I'm sure that's just a bit harsh, don't you think? I mean, I am a grown man, and have been for many years now--” The Northerner glared down at me.

“Time, Adam!” I lowered my head.

“Three, or so.... Maybe a little later-- Or earlier!” deciding it was best to hide myself from Milly's wrath, I mumbled something about checking in on patient fifty-nine, and slipped out of the door as quickly as I could.

**

Destra

Around midday, I realized I had no clue where the bathroom was. I came to this realization suddenly, and immediately abandoned the shovel I had been using to peel up the newspaper. Sliding around the corner, I nearly ran smack-dab into a large, hairy form. I almost had a mini heart-attack, methinks.

“Ah, my dear! I came by to see if you required any assistance with the cleaning! I'm quite adept at cleaning, I think you'll find, as I--” While Munro was talking, I had been jumping back and forth, and making a series of silly dance steps reminiscent of a highland fling.

“My dear, do you need to, ehem, use the Ladies room?” I nodded my head emphatically, and kept my lips pressed hard together. Munro laughed gently, and pointed down the hall.

“One door past the library!” I ran past him, and with great relief found the right door. I have never appreciated the porcelain goddess more.

When I got back to the art room, Munro was ripping up large sheets of paper, peeling away more than double the amount I had managed in six hours of sturdy labor. I stood transfixed, watching him move with such ferocity, and suddenly becoming aware of exactly how fragile humans are. In under twenty minutes, Munro had completely uncovered the floor. It was dusty, and mouse droppings covered the entire surface. The Sasquatch looked at me with a pleased expression on his face.

“Shall I get the mop?” he pulled out a large white handkerchief, and gently dabbed around his face.

“It's alright, I'll get it!” I paused “I think its lunch..... Would you care to join me, before we continue cleaning this rat-nest?” He thought for a moment, then replied.

“My dear, of course I would..... Besides, there are many dangerous scoundrels running about, and I would not put it below them to take advantage of such a delicate thing as yourself.” He smiled kindly.

Of course, I'm hardly delicate.... Well, not to other humans....

When Munro and I arrived at the cafeteria, I saw more of the strange, terrifying, and wondrous occupants of the Zahncliff Institute; Fur, feathers and fangs flashed in every direction I looked. Three women sat in a tub conversing in one of the far corners of the room. I looked again just as a tail flashed out of the water, then sank slowly beneath the water once more.

I felt a childish excitement rise inside of me. Mermaids!

The cafeteria was a large, well lit room, with a high domed ceiling, and large windows. Along the right side of the room ran the food counter, where an eight-armed woman served multiple patients at once. As we passed one table, the half goat men sitting around it whistled. We passed Cyclops', Minotaurs, Banshees, Elves, Trolls, Goblins, Werewolves, Brownies, Leprechauns....... I couldn't name half of them. Some looked almost human-- but then something about them.... Wasn't.

This was also undoubtedly the noisiest place I had ever been. Hoots, hollers, whistles, grunts, howls, yelps, and insane laughter made it impossible to think about anything other than all those claws. And teeth.

My companion and I finally found an empty table. Mostly. A single person sat in the middle of one of the benches, sipping tea. She was a tall, elegant woman with a slight tan. Her dark hair fell past her hips, and moved gently every time she moved. As we got closer, I realized her hair was a collection of large snakes. Black Mambas.

“Cassandra dear! May we join you?” Cassandra was wearing a pair of thick black shades, and a Bohemian style dress. Multiple gold bangles clanked and jingled around her delicate wrists.

“You may join me, if you wish. Who's this?” Her voice was soft, and she prolonged her S's. She inclined her free hand in my direction. We took our seats opposite of her.

“This is Destra, she's working here now! She'll be teaching the Arts! Music, drama, painting, dance, oh, all that jazz!” I giggled at Munro's cultural comment. Even the Gorgon across the table cracked a smile. Then she went back to quietly sipping. After a moment, me and Munro excused ourselves, and went to line up at the counter. When we had our food (The daily special was great white steaks with snail caviar, seaweed stew, and snicker doodles.... I took the snicker doodles), we returned to Cassandra's table. She turned to us.

“We haven't had an art teacher for many years..... Why are you here?” Her snakes rose up around her, and moved their heads hypnotically. I was silent for a moment, collecting my thoughts into an audible sentence.

I had a question that had to do with the first part of what Cassandra said....

“I needed a job, and this was what was available.......What happened to the last art teacher?” Munro settled his cane next to him, and took up a storytelling pose.

“Ten years back, we had a young man come through. Strange fellow, always quiet. Dark haired, dark eyed.... That boy always had quite the entourage of ladies following him around, I tell you! But he never paid them any heed. He had quite the flair for painting. At that time, a young woman named Elvina Montrott handled art. She was a fair young thing, and the young man had eyes only for her. His name was Eldridge Vansluys. He was of Lycan descent, and those days, the blood still ran true and fast. One moonlit night, the two of them went for a walk in the grounds. The hunger for human flesh overcame his mind, and he turned. He murdered Elvina. Once the moon passed, he realized what he had done, and was distraught. Anger and hate filled his soul, and he took it out on the art room. Using her blood, Eldridge painted that--” Munro broke off here, and shuddered, “That thing. Then, he hung himself. If you look at the picture, you'll see that the people in it are all the same...... They're all Elvina.” he was silent for a moment, and I realized most of the room was listening intently to the gory story. Then a plate crashed to the ground, snail caviar flying everywhere, and the chaotic hubbub returned. I was glad of that. It had been too creepy for my taste.

Munro startled me by continuing.

“The art room hasn't been used since.... Do you know yet what to do with the painting?” His sudden subject change caught me off guard...... I honestly hadn't given it a second thought. It was a piece of the Zahncliff Institute's history, and was painted in someones blood.

Maybe we can just take it down, and put it somewhere else?

**

Destra

After lunch, Cassandra followed us back to the art room, and helped us continue our cleaning. I shoved the dead newspapers in to a big black garbage bag, while Cassandra tore down the window coverings, and Munro swept the floor with a broom two times bigger than the one previously used. While we worked, the painting glared down at us. Finally I couldn't bear it any longer; I stood up, stomped over, and lifted the garish art piece off the small gold hook stuck in the wall. Almost immediately, the room brightened, and the creepy-crawly cold was gone. I opened one of the cabinets to stash it, and a hundred or more bottles of paint attacked me. Luckily, they were all sealed, or I could have wiped myself on a canvas and made a million dollars.

After I picked myself up, Munro and Cassandra came over and began opening the other cabinets. Three of them were filled with musical instruments, everything from a small harp to a set of moldy bagpipes, harmonicas to banjos, and several I couldn't have told you about if my life depended on it. Two had more moldy, broken canvas', and the final cabinet had finished pieces of art, and sheet music.

The afternoon wore on, and soon faded into evening. The sun was just disappearing over the trees when we finished our work. The wood floor had been scrubbed, and light bulbs replaced. The windows shone, the easels that were still useable had been set back up in a tidy order, and some of the instruments now sat next to twelve wooden chairs lined up along the left side of the room.

Munro, Cassandra and I sat on the floor, looking at our progress.

“Well, I think that tomorrow would be a good day to open up for business!” I said. The Gorgon's snakes wriggled excitedly, and Munro, even though he was panting heavily, had a wide smile on his face.

“Thanks for helping..... I certainly couldn't have finished this by myself in single day.” I put out my closed hand for a fist bump, and my two strange companions looked at me as if I were the nut-ball.

Suddenly, Adam came into the room. We all jumped, then laughed.

“Sorry to startle you! I came to see--” He had just started looking at the room. He walked over and swept a finger across one of the easels. “Very nice.... Very, very nice. All this? In one day?” he said.

I glanced over at the other two.

“Well, I had help. Do you want me here same time tomorrow?” Adam took one more look-see.

“Yes, I think that will work splendidly. Are there any supplies you need?” I ran through my head a list of all the junk we had come across.

“Oil pastels, paintbrushes, oil thinner, aprons, canvas', watercolor paper, watercolor pencils, graphite pencils, erasers, gouache, ink pens, markers, clay, swivel-arm lamps, more easels, drop-cloth, name tags, scissors, embroidery floss and hoops, needles, white cotton, thimbles, magnifying glasses, tables, a radio, a recorder, some good Bluegrass tunes, Big Band, and classical........and a large rug.” I said with finality.

Adam stood like a statue.

“All that?” he said. I gave him a sideways glance.

“The Arts is more than just painting.... Its a wide range of activities. Count yourself lucky I didn't add the equipment necessary for Black Smithing to the list.” I smirked a little. Just a little. Munro chuckled deeply.

“I can bring some of the stuff in myself, but there is a lot that we still need..... I'll write you out a list.” I added.

**

Destra

The next few days were a blur. My mind was still adjusting to being turned upside-down, and so I couldn't help but stare when on my second day a cyclops asked me to help spell his name. Mostly, it was the subtle things that got me. It was far easier to accept the fact that a dryad could wander free, moss trailing behind her, than it was to accept a Faery.... My third day, Adam took me around to familiarize with the many species contained within the brick-and-mortar walls. I also had my first look at how dangerous this job was;

One of the other staff (A middle-aged balding man with a graying beard named Jackam) was in the cafeteria, when a Pooka decided it didn't like the menu options. He refused to eat, and when Jackam tried to help him sit, he flipped. Turning into its true form, the Pooka rose up on it's hind legs, pawed the air with its hooves, and neighed, spit flying. Then he struck Jackam down. Blood pooled from his ears, and he lay motionless on the ground. Several very pale people off in one corner started to moan, and their eyes turned wild; the nearby wolf-folk howled, and a large group of humans dressed all in black came running from an adjoining room, loaded guns with tranquilizers in hand. They circled the Pooka, and fought back the pale people (Who I found out later were Vampires), and the werewolves, trying to protect the fallen man's body until the medics arrived. Adam came in, took a gun from one of the security detail, and fired the dart into the side of the Pooka's neck. It's eyes glazed, and it toppled over.

I stood transfixed.

Adam then looked around him.

“SILENCE!”

The room obeyed. He then turned and gave a command to the detail, and a separate one for the medics. The former lifted the Pooka, who was now slowly turning back, and carried out of the room, followed shortly be the latter, bearing a now white Jackam on a stretcher. Then Adam, giving a final glance over the room, stormed out. The room was quiet for a few more minutes, then returned to its usual hectic pace. But that moment was forever burned into my memory. I doubt even a professional psychiatrist could have helped. After lunch, I headed to the hospital wing to see if anyone could possibly live after such a blow. When I arrived, Adam was pacing up and down, his eyes darting every which-way. He barely registered me when I entered. Then a man dressed in white from head to foot came in. Blood soiled his pristine uniform.

“Jackam will live, but he may have some vision problems..... It was an impressive amount of force. Any harder, and he would be dead. Also, he may suffer some memory loss for the next few days. We can't currently know if there will be any lasting effects. We've used all the skills at our disposal, and have notified his family. His wife will be here shortly to see him.” I let myself breath again, and all of the sudden I felt shaky.

“Thank you, Rob..... Would you mind sending someone up to room 64 with some more Haloperidol? I want to make sure that doesn't happen again.”

“Of course, Adam.” Rob inspected the young man in front of him. “Insomnia again?”

Zahncliff nodded his head in my direction, and Rob dropped it immediately.

What was that about?

“We'll leave you to your work..... We'll continue on that other subject later.” Adam turned, and left the room. Not know what to do, I bobbed politely to Rob, and wandered back towards the art room.

The next two days were pretty quiet, considering. No butt-smacking satyrs in the hallway, no banshee uproars, and no Pooka gone wild. Jackam recovered nicely, and was visited often by his red-haired wife and kids. I finally noticed that the family all had pointed ears. As I said, the little things get me.

I headed toward the bathroom feeling light headed.

I am NOT going to barf..... I am NOT going to barf!

Stupid gag reflex.

After I finished puking up my lunch, I felt like a total idiot. Why was I so affected by little things like that? The big things were nothing! I could handle Centaurs, Pegasi, and a small dragon, but noooo, not things like Elves, Cyclops, and Faery..... Why?

Then the blessed weekend came. I rode back to my small apartment in a sleepy haze, and hit the bed as soon as I arrived. I think I woke up sometime around 8:20 on Saturday morning. Hunger hit me like an anvil in the stomach (Which, by the way, is not humorous, as indicated by many kid's programs), and caused me to leave my oh-so-cozy warm covers, and weave my way toward the kitchen. I pulled a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch out of the cabinet, and sat down at my rickety dining table. The remote was sitting near by, so I flipped on my little TV, and shoved my hand into the box of cereal, relieved to finally have normal food. But I choked just a few minutes later; on channel 8, a story was being aired about a recent murder. The victim was barely recognizable as human: it's face was practically ribbons, it had no stomach, and it lay in a twisted pattern on the cement.

“.... Police and special investigators are on the scene, and are doing their best to identify the human remains. This is Camille Longston reporting from 5^th street.” I pushed the power button of the remote, and the screen went black. I sat back for a moment, horrified. Then the headache hit. Just the gentle thrumming, the starting of it. Then my mind began to make the connections.

5^th street...... 8^th street...... Blood...... Zahncliff!

I realized with a jolt that no human could do something like that without a weapon, and the police had yet to find one. I knew they wouldn't. I raced to the other side of my apartment, and snatched up the phone. Quickly I dialed the Institute's number. It seemed to take ages for them to answer, and each ring threatened to split open my skull. As soon as they picked up the phone, I demanded to talk to Adam, hastily giving my name. I was patched through. At this point I was losing vision, and sound were sharp and harsh. Blood pumped heavily through my heart, and I was getting sick to my stomach.

“Destra, is something wrong? Milly said you sounded quite urgent--” Tears streaked down my face.

“Adam, someone's been murdered.... I think it was one of them!”

“One of who? Destra, one of who?”

“One of the..... The.......:” My mind went blank. I barely felt myself hit the floor. I didn't hear anyone break down my door. I wasn't aware of being carried on a stretcher, and placed in the back of a car.

My mind let go, and I didn't dream for many hours.

**

First Finished Chapter Ever!

1

The Weird Way Things Work Out

Destra

I notice things. Not like in the TV shows, where they flash briefly and – Ta-da!-- I have everything figured out. It's more like a subtle burning in the back of my skull that grows in ferocity the closer I get to something important. Then, like a wave of silver, the pain is gone. Like today. Searching for a job is a pain. With me, literally. Especially if your major in college was, say, the Arts. There isn't much to be had in that direction.

And so, while sitting crossed-legged on the old upholstery armchair in my Grandmother's house, looking at Job adds, the dull fire was started. I turned the page of the paper, and it got worse. I flipped back a page, and it lessened.

Okay, I'll play...

I continued to flip Forward through the thin paper, past adds for bleaching trays and free burgers. The pain was becoming unbearable. Finally, on page 13, the fire was gone. I looked up and down the page.

“Lower your insurance rates by 15%!” nope.

“Don't forget to send flowers this Valentines!” Huh-uh.

“Grand Opening! Stop by for your FREE flashlight!” I don't think so.

“Wanted: Position to be filled at the Zahncliff Mental Institute on the corner of 6^th street and Clemence. No degree necessary. Must be able-bodied. For more info, call 609-1313.”

I've heard of this place.... Constantly under lock and key. All sorts of characters in there. The dangerous sort.

But a girls' gotta eat.

**

Adam

“A classified?” exasperation hung heavy in my voice.

“It's so ridiculously simple! Somebody calls, we set up an interview, we like them, we hire! Done! No endless scrabbling around the world, trying to find someone who has all the 'Necessary Clearance'.” The tall lanky form of Dr. MacKenzie swung his arms around with exuberant force. The sight reminded Adam of a windmill.

“Dr. MacKenzie....” The doctor readjusted his thick-rimmed glasses at the sound of his name, “I know you're new here, and I know you still think very much like a human, but this is a-- Delicate-- situation. It requires... Finesse.”

The young man looked put down.

“Oh, just say it. It's a stupid idea.”

“Now, Darwin, I---”

“It's okay. I'm used to it. People never like my ideas, unless it makes them money, or famous. That's only ever happened once.” He heaved a great sigh, “I'll just go crawl into a corner with some Duct tape then, shall I?” Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. I used think that only females could be Drama Queens. Then I met Darwin MacKenzie. But he did have to look of a kicked-puppy, and we can't have that if we want to have control over the Facility. Upset staff means upset patients. Upset patients means.....

“We'll look into that as an option.” He raised his eyes from his worn out shoe laces.

“Really?” he said, surprised.

“Yes.”

**

Destra

The formidable black wrought-iron gates loomed in front of me.

It was a sunny Monday afternoon, and the heat rolled over the cars and blacktop. The interview with Mr. Zahncliff had been arranged only this morning. The person who answered the phone had a unisex voice, and seemed anxious to have me come as soon as possible. When I said I was free today, the person excitedly gave me a time, and hung up.

Now, walking up to the gate.

It didn't seem to be the classic lock-and-key gate. I saw off to one corner a surveillance camera, and below it, a keypad and a microphone. I walked over and tapped the microphone.

“..... Ummm...... Testing, one, two, three?” There was silence at the other end.

“This is Destra Simmons, I've come for an interview?” Silence. Then, a male voice crackled at the other end.

“Hello? Hi! Sorry about that... Having some-- eh-- Technical issues....” a young male voice said. There was a girlish giggle in the background “.....Destra, Destra.... OH! Destra! Sorry, I'll get that gate for you.....” The heavy black metal slid away, and I walked through. The grounds were immense. Just how they were able to get this, in the smack-dab middle of the city...

Anyways. It was well kept, with a great many trees and shrubberies. The path led up to a large red-brick mansion with white trim, shutters, pillars, the works.

It was quite the trek to the large oak doors. When I finally reached them, I pulled the tasseled rope hanging close by, and a deep bell chimed inside. The door was opened by a tall, expansive woman, with deep blue eyes, and a hip-length sheet of silver-gray hair. She was wearing a frilly black apron. When she saw me, she scowled, and tore it off.

“May I help you?” her voice was surprisingly deep, and she had a faint accent I didn't recognize.

“My name is Destra Simmons, I'm here for a job interview with Mr. Zahncliff.” The woman studied me thoroughly for a few seconds, then nodded, but I could tell from her posture she was still watching me shrewdly.

“Please, come in.” she said, beckoning inward. I stepped into an impressive entry hall. Wainscoting came up to waist-high on the wall, then a delicate blue-green paisley wallpaper ran upwards to meet the white crown moldings and painted ceiling.

“This way, if you please.” The woman led me through an adjoining room, and up a stair case leading to the second story. She opened the second door on the left, and we entered a dark wood paneled office, with matching furniture, and ancient art in similar wood frames. Terracotta pots rested on pedestals sitting in each corner of the room, and the black out curtains were pulled open, shedding the last of the days light onto the desk, which was littered with paperwork and personnel files. Several contained some very sever faces, while with others, you could tell the had dropped off the deep end eons before. Sitting in a large leather club chair was a young sleeping man, who looked to be thirty-something, with curly auburn hair and a goatee. His suit was rumpled, and a cup of old coffee resided in his right hand, leaning at a precarious angle, and threatening to spill its cold contents all over the floor.

The woman walked over to him, and spoke slowly. “Adam.... Aaadaammm..... ADAM!” The young man jerked to attention, dropping his mug in the process, and making a gargling exclamation. He stretched out in his chair, creaking and cracking. Sitting straight, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and looked blearily in my direction.

“IzzaFuraInnerVuw?” He mumbled. I arched my eyebrow.

“Pardon?” All of the sudden his eyes cleared, and he stood up to shake my hand.

“Sorry, took me a sec.... You're Ms. Simmons?” I nodded, and placed my hand in his. It was cold, dry, and strong. He had white lines crisscrossing the back of his hand, and two sets of identical white puncture marks that looked as though they had come from a very large snake.

“Adam Zahncliff, owner, founder, et cetera.... May I see your resume?” I dug in my canvas purse, withdrew the white sheets of paper clumsily stapled together, and handed them over to him. He scanned them, and would glance up every now and then with a trace of amusement on his face. When he was done, he became unreadable.

“Arts?”he said in a sarcasm lined tone.

“Yes, you've got a problem with that?” Mr. Zahncliff looked slightly taken aback.

Crap.

He then tried clumsily to apologize “I meant no offense! I only meant... Well... This is a mental institute for-- Ah-- unique patients. I honestly don't what good arts would do.” I smiled, knowing how to handle this.

“Have you looked at my previous employment? Primrose House. I worked there for three years, doing art with the patients. Art helps the mentally unstable keep contact with this world, and helps them express themselves. As you will also see, I was given high marks by Dr. Lively? I know how to work with these people.”

“We have no need for an artist.” He said, a bemused expression on his face. That stung. I took the offense.

“Well,” I said adjusting my pose, and crossing my arms, “As I see it, you have a position to be filled, and I need a job. We can work together, or I can just leave.”

The office was silent for several minutes.

“Well, you have to admit, the gals' got sass.” the silence was broken. I looked behind me at the tall woman who had led me in. She was looking at me through slanted eyes.

Mr. Zahncliff spun around from the casual position he had taken up near the window. “Milly, she can't. She-- can't! She knows nothing!”

“Nothing? What kind of expertise do I require? Your add didn't say anything about requirements.”

“Adam, we need the help. Besides, she has the Blood.” The what?

Zahncliff looked up at her sharply.

“She does?” Milly nodded. Then they were both staring at me.

“Well, if you are really intent on working here, we will need you to first take a mandatory quiz.” Adam went behind his desk, opened a drawer, and took out a small stack of papers.

I glanced up at him. “A quiz?” he handed the stack to me, snatched a pen out of an old chipped coffee mug, and gestured to the chair on my side of the desk. I sat down, and began reading the questions

1. Describe the basic appearance and attitude of the common Lycanthrope?

Excuse me? I thought maybe they were pulling my leg. I did know what the answer was, as I was a bit of a nerd, but where was the relevance? I wrote down my best answer, and continued on down the line.

2. How can you tell if a Dryad's tree is diseased?

3. What herbal tea blend is most commonly used to calm a Cyclops?

4. How often should you clip the Pegasus wing?

It went on with ludicrous questions like this for the next four pages. When I was finished, I looked up, and set down my pen. Zahncliff took the papers. He read through them, then stood up.

“Welcome to the Zanhcliff Mental Institute. If you will collect your things, I'll give you a tour.” Confused, I picked up my bag, and followed him out of the room. He led me back down stairs, Milly following close behind. I was led farther back into the mansion, where long halls were lined with sturdy old oak doors. Each door had a gold plaque with a room number, and patient name.... A little below that, species name.

One in particular caught my eye. It was room number forty-seven, and the name seemed familiar;

47

Damien S. Clivestone Sr.

Species Unknown

That name bugged me. I knew I had heard it before. Where, was the question. It is a weird place.... Maybe I had heard it at college? But that thought was soon pushed out of my mind as we rounded the corner.

“Hope you understand that all of this is top-secret.... If you mention to anybody, large men in black suits will show up your front door, and they won't give you time to pack.”

We were standing between two great pillars, which opened up to a large domed room. High windows rose to greet the compass-rose skylight. Tables with sturdy wood chairs pulled up to them lined the edges of the room, and in the center a brazier stood, fire unlit. A large figure sat at the far side of the room, hunched over a news paper. As we approached, I noticed it was covered in fur.

“Munro!” The thing raised it's head, and I gasped. Being covered in fur was bad enough; he looked like my old stuffed bear. Brown eyes gazed out of a grizzled old face, and spectacles rested on a large wet nose, not unlike that of a dog. He wore a brown vest with old soda-bottle caps sewn onto it, and had a red bow-tie around his neck. Then, he replied with an acute English accent,

“Ah! Adam, my boy! Brought a friend, have we?” He looked up at me, and I felt the unwanted churning of my stomach that one gets when you see something that isn't quite right, something that isn't supposed to be. And yet a quiet voice in my mind told me that it was to be.

“Hello, Munro! This is Ms. Simmons, Ms. Simmons, Liam Munro.” Mr. Zahncliff pleaded with his eyes for me to not offend him. Munro stood on shaky legs, and grabbed a cane sitting nearby, with withered old hands the texture of leather. At the end of each finger was a thick black curling claw. He reached his hand out to me.

“A pleasure, a pleasure! And, how many years are you, Ms. Simmons?” I gingerly stuck my hand forward and grasped his. His hand shook with Rheumatism. Somehow, touching him eased my queasy stomach.

“Twenty-five and counting!” I said. Munro looked put down.

“Alas, far to young for me.” a devilish twinkle came into his eyes, and a slight smile crept across his face, revealing sharp white teeth. I felt a slight blush crawling into my cheeks. He laughed, a barking sound, his pelt shaking a golden color in the sunlight. Adam beamed and spoke.

“Destra will be working here now.... She'll help with Arts.”

“Ah, the arts.... I thought you an artist from the very first moment I set eyes on you! Useful thing, the arts.....” Munro gazed off into the distance briefly, and I shot a meaningful glance in Adam's direction. He purposefully looked the opposite way.

Finally I spoke up,“Well, I look forward to helping out around here!” Munro took my hand for a second time.

“Pleasure meeting you, truly! You had best be on your way... Adam is getting a little fidgety....” He leaned into me and whispered conspiratorially “I think its all that black coffee he drinks... He should turn to tea. Much better for a body!” I snorted laughter down under my breath. Adam rolled his eyes spectacularly, then cleared his throat noisily.

“We'll see you around, Munro. Little time left in the day, and still much more to show our newest employee!” and with a final wave in Munro's direction, we left the grand room. After that, we visited the hospital wing, a large white room filled with the oddest assortment of patients possible, all of whom seemed quite sane. I was beginning to wonder if this was actually just a sanctuary for people like Munro. I asked Adam.

“Munro thinks he is human.... There were some incidences involving campers. The most well known one is ten years back. He walked into a well known RV camp wearing a top hat, and half scared the campers to death! He is kept here for not only his own safety, but for the safety of his kind.”

I stand corrected.

Next we entered the Library, a large wood-paneled room filled to the brim with books of every kind. Hap-hazard piles and stacks of books sat all around, although it felt as though whoever did it had their own way of organizing.

As we left, I passed to close to a pile of Latin and Greek books, and knocked two off. I heard a gentle scuffing off feet, and quiet cursing. I hurried to catch up with my guides.

The kitchen, dining room, lounge room, meditation room, communications room, Employee's lounge, refugee quarters, level eight (High security), garden, and finally, an obviously disused art room. Old easels lay in disrepair around the edges of the room. Canvases lay scattered and broken all over the floor. On one side of the room, cupboards went from wall to wall, and several doors hung off of their hinges. Cardboard covered up the windows, and the wood floor was hidden underneath of layers of old newspaper. Only one picture remained on the wall, and a disturbing one it was at that. It showed a family of horribly misshapen people, all with distorted facial features. They lay spread across a red background, and black twisted trees were spread out all over. Behind the people, a great black wolf glared with red eyes, blood on it's bared teeth and claws.

I pointed at it.

“What is that?” Adam grimaced, and a darkness passed over Milly's face.

“Eldridge Vansluys. He was a Lycan.” I expected Mr. Zahncliff to go on, but he did not. After a few minutes he changed the subject. “This room is yours to use.... It has not been cleaned in many years, so obviously you have your work but out for you. I'll expect you here at seven O'clock tomorrow morning.” And with that, they both turned, and left the room. I lingered for a moment longer. There was a feeling of sadness that lay heavy over the room, and a dark evil presence that lied within the red swirling paint of that picture. I shivered, though the room was warm, and hurried to follow the others. They were waiting for me a short way down the hall.

Illumination

Illumination can be found from texts as early as 400 to 600 AD. It is most often seen in Medieval texts, or used by Disney for princess movie intros. It started being used in Italy and the Eastern Roman Empire, and is used on special or holy stories/fables/laws/random. Most often, the use of gold leaf was liberal, as it made a certain section stand out from the rest. Modern Illuminates use watercolors and ink for their projects.
Me and my friend KaTrina were sitting at the kitchen table waiting for her mom to come and pick her up, and she mention that she needed to do some sampler Illumination for a school project.
Just a few days before, NotMolly had picked up an instructional book at the library on Illumination.
So, I pulled it out, and KaT and I set to work! We used pencils, as dragging out the paints would be silly, and started playing with shapes and designs. Finally, by the time her mom had arrived, we were starting to get the hang of it. KaT has continued with knitting/crocheting, and I have been steadily working on my wicked watercolor skeelz.

The outcome:

This is one I did for KaT as a Christmas present. Not to be braggy, but I'm proud of this one :)

I need to locate and buy some gold leaf, though, because that is what makes Illumination, Illumination!
Example?




You give it a shot! It's very therapeutic.....
Grab some watercolors, watercolor paper, ink pens, watercolor pencils (WC paper is a pain to erase. If you use WC pencils, they at least blend in), a ruler, and get to work! books can be found at your local library, and can be more than useful.
Be sure to have fun, relax, and don't plan. Never plot, because it won't turn out right.

Have at it!