WARNING: Contains language that may be offensive to some, as well as a badly sung line from a Patsy Cline tune, which as a result, may also be offensive to some

...and now, back to PENGUIN$

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

In the penthouse, one hundred and twenty five floors above, Sebastian
Crowley watched with avid interest as the buzz of activity finally began to
subside, signifying that the odd preparations were nearing completion. In
the past hour, the hostage's standard of living had gone up immeasurably
thanks to the young man whom Crowley now knew as Dr. Byron Pisces.

Earlier, Pisces had disappeared briefly, only to reappear snapping commands
that the monster penguins were suddenly willing to obey. The small group of
hostages had then been allowed trips to the bathroom and now sat in
comfortably padded office chairs. Their gags had been removed and their
bindings loosened.

Crowley was still at a loss to explain their circumstances. From his vantage
point in the far corner of the large, fluorescent-lit room he could see that
all the humans supporting the penguins were under some form of mind control.
For some reason the hostage's free will had been left intact and Crowley
wondered whether to be relieved or suspicious.

Pisces stood surrounded by a cluster of cutting-edge computer equipment,
leaning forward every so often to stare intently at a screen, move and click
a mouse and occasionally tap a few keys. The young man seemed deeply
absorbed in his work and extremely content. He had removed his elegant coat
and jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his expensive silk shirt and run his
fingers through his jet black hair sending it into total disarray.

After some time, he finally stepped back from the softly glowing screens,
picked up his coat and from an inner pocket pulled out a battered spiral
notebook. He handled the book lovingly, carefully removing a rubber band
that held the cover and several of the pages in place. As if performing a
long awaited ritual, Pisces turned to a particular page and then raised his
head to stare at the machine in the center of the room with an oddly
nostalgic expression. A thought seemed to occur to him and he glanced over
at the hostages. He grinned and then headed towards them with long, quick
strides that were one hop short of a skip.

"Mr. Crowley!" He exclaimed, throwing one arm behind him in the direction of
the machine. "Don't look so glum! We have a reason to celebrate here!"

"We do?" Crowley asked dryly, his deep, cultured voice as annoyingly calm
and smooth as he had intended it to be.

"Indeed we do!" Pisces laughed with gleeful abandon. "My work is finally
complete."

"Congratulations," Crowley drawled. "Now release us."

Pisces ignored him. "I was just a boy when I first saw this device in my
dreams. It's motivated me in my studies and driven me to excel. Because of
it, I knew my life had purpose and that I was destined to use science to
create something that would for once save mankind instead of destroy it."

"Then you are already doomed to failure," Crowley said in a manner implying
that he was bored by the topic. "It is simply contrary to human nature to
practically apply any concept powerful enough to save them in the manner it
was intended. The destiny of that device is sealed. It will serve the few to
the detriment of the many."

Pisces frowned, somewhat deflated. "That's where you're wrong, Sebastian,"
he said. "That's where they come in."

"They?" Crowley snorted. "I take it you mean those flightless fowl."

"Penguins!" Pisces spat. "Of course I mean the penguins. I owe everything to
them! Their unique power is what was needed to make my device possible."

"Okay," Crowley sighed disgustedly, momentarily dropping all pretence. "I
give. What exactly is that infernal machine for?"

"It's complicated." Pisces smiled, his good humor returning. "But
essentially, it emits a beam that enters the human mind undetected and acts
as both a diagnostic and a repair tool."

"Repairing what, exactly?" Crowley asked. He'd gone deathly still.

Pisces sighed, clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace in front
of Crowley's chair. "Try to understand that this endeavor took years of
research and complicated analysis," he began. "The penguins have narrowed
down a lot of what's wrong with humanity but it seems to manifest itself
differently in each person. The beam acts like an installation program that
searches a system for existing software before loading a new application.
This new application then goes on to overwrite all the flaws found during
the first stage. It's ingenious really.  After the equivalent of a system
reboot, there will be some initial disorientation, and that's where the
Penguin Armies come in."

"To assist us with this disorientation?"

"In a way," Pisces smiled. "But we don't foresee too much trouble. You will
welcome us with open arms and together we will tear down this hell on earth
and upon its ruins build a shining new world in which humans will live in
blissful harmony watched over and cared for by penguin-kind."

Crowley stayed silent.  He'd seen something slide behind Pisces' eyes for
just a moment that intrigued him. Apparently one small part of Pisces' mind
had not been completely conquered and was secretly unsure about something
that concerned the Penguins. Crowley concluded that the issue was control.
Pisces was obviously not in charge and was dancing as fast as he could to
appease a higher power. He may have no choice about doing someone else's
bidding, but the uncontrolled part of his mind was forcing him to play a
delicate game that would at least give him control over how he went about
it, in the hopes of directing the outcome. Crowley realized that this
internal mental struggle was a weak spot that could be exploited to his, and
the other hostages', advantage.

Crowley smiled. "Exactly when is all this supposed to take place Dr. Pisces?
World domination may take some time and I'd like a little snack to tide me
over."

Pisces laughed. "Well, we're not hoping for world domination at this stage
Sebastian. One step at a time. Only the downtown core of this city for now.
You see, these magnificent towers house leaders of industry, finance and
government. Obviously, if my beam can detect and fix everything that's wrong
in their minds it could work on anyone. Half our work would be done right
there. With the support of these powerful people the rest of Canada will be
brought over in no time. This is far preferable to messy warfare."

"Ingenious indeed," murmured Crowley as Pisces ranted on. He wondered what
the rest of Canada would think of this logic. Toronto's self awarded title
of 'Center of the Universe' had not exactly succeeded in endearing itself to
the rest of the country.

"...and with the current conversion rate, we'd end up paying only half price
on the dollar to do it!" Pisces concluded enthusiastically.

"But why not Ottawa?" Crowley asked. "It is the nation's capital."

Pisces frowned in confusion. "It is? Really?" He shrugged and continued.
"But to answer your question, Sebastian, the machine is set to begin pulsing
the beam over the city at 10 am."

"Any particular reason?" Crowley wanted to know.

"Though everyone in the city will be effected, our main targets are powerful
people with executive's hours." Pisces replied seriously. "10 am is a safe
midway point just after they get into their offices and just before they
leave to go to lunch. There was a slim window of opportunity there and we
decided to aim for it. Alcohol can wreck havoc with the effects of the
beam."

"Ahhh." Crowley nodded, eyes narrowed in mock understanding. We're all
screwed, he thought to himself.

"I'm so very glad you understand Sebastian." Pisces smiled. "It will make
things easier when you're called upon in another hour or so."

"Called upon?" asked Crowley's mistress, the first of the other hostages to
speak. "What do you mean by called upon? To do what?"

Pisces smiled gently. "There is a test scheduled for five am. The Empress
wants living proof that the device works."  His smile widened. "I hope you
will all feel privileged to know that you will be the first to have your
minds cleansed by the beam. The first to feel its....." He stopped in
mid-sentence and frowned deeply, then raised one hand raised to his
forehead. After a moment, he lifted his head and stared off into space as if
watching an event unfold before them that only he could see.

"No," he groaned. "No. Not Trebor. Not my best penguin. Who…?" Then his eyes
slid to their corners and he stood as if listening very hard to a distant
sound. "That's...impossible," he murmured. "Only I can..." Then he turned on
his heel and stormed away, Crowley and the other hostages forgotten. An
entire armed squadron of the monster Penguins fell into step behind him as
he climbed the cement stairs to the door that led to the elevators.

"Obviously something big has happened," Crowley's mistress said, her eyes
wide.

"Have you always had this obnoxious habit of stating the obvious?" Crowley
snapped at her, "Now shut your mouth, I need to think."

"Asshole," She muttered softly. The other hostages nodded in agreement.

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

"Damn," Christi muttered softly as she waited for a web page to download.
Her mind had somehow idly wandered back to her penguin-induced clinch with
Forrester, reminding her of the fact that she'd come out of the mind-foo far
sooner than she'd admitted to anyone. Dress or no dress, the man sure knew
how to kiss, and being plastered up against his muscular body had made her
realize that he'd look pretty good without the dress, or anything else for
that matter. Her face reddened at the thought of what might have happened
had there been no laughing audience of team members present.

"No doubt about it, Freud would've had a field day with this one," she
sighed. Crossing her arms, she slid down lower on her tail bone in the chair
and gently kicked the leg of the table with one scuffed sneaker.  Tooling
around CNN's Intranet, thanks to the army of hackers toiling away at the
Atlanta Rebel stronghold, had served to take her mind off the fact that
Valeria's cell phone had been offline for close to an hour and a half.
Christi decided that she'd waited long enough. Perhaps too long. It was time
to move.

Logging off, she pushed herself away from the desk, grabbed her belly bag,
her car keys, and a battered leather jacket and headed for the factory's
main doors.

Outside it was still dark. The sky had cleared and the air held a lethal
combination of the scent of polluted lake water and that special brand of
early morning chill guaranteed to wake anyone up. Across the harbor, the
city sparkled with a deceptively innocent silence.

The emergency exit to the bunker stood wide open, white fluorescent light
spilling from it. The faint sounds of the team cleaning up and making
repairs drifted out. Christi crossed the wet, muddy grass, then headed down
the cement stairs and into the light. The whine of a buzz saw cut the air
from somewhere down the hallway, and then died as she passed the weapons
room. In the immediate silence that followed she heard a sound coming from
inside the dark room and paused to listen.

Someone was in there, either crying, or singing insanely, she couldn't tell
which.

Thinking of the unguarded door, she unzipped her belly bag and removed a
Glock 26, pushing a clip into it before pulling back on the slide to chamber
the first round. She entered the code on the security pad next to the door
and then pushed the door open with her foot while assuming a textbook weaver
stance, holding the gun with both hands and using the door to shield
herself. The singing started again. This time she recognized the mangled
attempt at a Patsy Cline tune.

"...I'm crazzzyyy for tryin' and crazzzyyy for lyin' and I'm craaazzzy for
loovvving youuuuuu...." followed by a deep masculine sob.

Light filtered in from the hallway behind her. As she pushed the door open
further it revealed Forrester, curled into a ball on the floor at the far
corner of the room behind a rack of machine guns. He stared up at her
forlornly, blinking red, bloodshot eyes, a bottle of Jim Beam clutched
tightly in one hand.

"What the hell?" Christi said, putting the gun up against her better
judgement. She found the light switch on the wall and flooded the room with
crisp white light.

"Arrggghhhhhh!!! Shut it offffff!" Forrester yelled and threw his hands over
his head, sliding sideways to the floor. His dress was up around his waist
and his stockings were torn. Christi found herself snickering over his
choice of underwear. Apparently Forrester had drawn the line on his quest
for femininity there. He wore a pair of plain, Fruit of the Loom men's
briefs in basic black.

"Come on, Vampirella," Christi quipped gently as she hunkered down beside
him on the floor. "It's not that bad. What're you doing in here?" Something
about Forrester's distress had managed to draw out her maternal side.

"Go away," he muttered from behind his arms.

"Make me." She smiled. "C'mon Winston, sit up. If you don't I'll be forced
to torture you the way I torture my cat, by tickling your tummy until you
give."

There was silence then Forrester was shaking again, this time with laughter.
He sat up slowly, still laughing, blinked comically and took a long drink
from the bottle.

Still chuckling, he said, "You're a cold, cast iron bitch. You know that
Darlin'?"

"It runs in the family," Christi replied with mock seriousness, brushing
strands of copper hair away from her eyes.

Forrester's expression grew suddenly serious again. He shook his head and
stared off into space.

"Talk to me," Christi said.

"What's there to talk about?" Forrester shrugged. "I'm a loser. I wear a
dress. I caused this whole damn mess. No one on the team will talk to me or
let me do anything and that includes my brother."

"I noticed that you and that Edward guy looked a lot alike."

"Well, that happens sometimes when you're twins." Forrester sniffed once. "I
always was the fuck-up in the family. My kill ratio was way down. Hell, my
sister Gloria was higher in demand for jobs than I've ever been by the time
she was sixteen. I just never had the knack for the work."

"So why didn't you get out of it?" Christi said, putting a hand on his
shoulder. "I'm sure you had other things you were good at."

"You don't understand my family." Forrester looked at her with desperate
eyes. "They're a team, like those guys in the wreck room are. If you can't
perform you're out. I can't lose them, Christi! They're all I have. I can't
get kicked out."

"They're your family Winston," Christi said, feeling a strong surge of anger
towards a family that had so little compassion. "Go talk to Edward, tell him
how you feel. Maybe he can help you." She stopped suddenly as she realized
that she was encouraging an assassin to seek career help.

"Edward won't understand." Forrester shook his head. "Hunting and killing
are his life. He doesn't think about it. He just does it. A job is never
just a job for him." He took another long drink from the bottle and then, as
an afterthought, held it out to Christi. "He's so into who he is and what
moves him. He's really living his life, y'know? I'm still trying to figure
mine out, and I'm not getting any younger."

Christi was at a loss for words momentarily. She didn't know enough about
this bizarre man to help him. He'd walked into her life as an
over-opinionated, obnoxious, egotistical screw up...in a dress. She looked
at the bottle in her hand and took a long drink, feeling the sweet amber
heat flow into her before handing it back to him. There was only one thing
she could think of to say.

Forrester spoke first after having watched her closely. "I tried it my
brother's way, Darlin'. I tried something other than humanity. The monsters
were too strong for me. I realized pretty quick that I didn't stand a chance
against them. I thought killing penguins would finally be something that I
could do well. We all know how that turned out. There's nothing you can say
to make me feel better about what I've done."

"Thanks, but I really wasn't going to try anyway," Christi said wryly.

Forrester's head snapped up and a look of betrayal briefly crossed his
features before it disappeared to be replaced by a look of complete
dejection.

"Well, uh, good," he said quietly. He took a deep breath and looked away.

"I mean, what's the point?" Christi said. "What's done is done. You seem to
have it all figured out. Why worry about the past?"

"The past makes you."

"The past is ancient history, Forrester. Live in the here and now."

"What exactly are you trying to say Darlin'?"

"Simple. Wipe the slate clean. Start living for yourself, not your family.
It may seem like a harsh thing to say, but it's your life and you have to
live it on your terms. Ask yourself what you'd really like to be doing and
do it as best you can and start racking up the successes. The kind of
success you find then will be worth more to you than anything else in this
world, and if your family cares about you they'll eventually realize that
you've found your self-worth and be happy for you, no matter what it is you
do."

Forrester sat with his mouth open, the bottle half way to his lips. "Wow.
Cool," he said finally. "That was, like, totally amazing."

Christi sat back and nodded, out of breath and trying to figure out where
all that self-help crap had just come from. She reached for the bottle,
grabbed it out of Forrester's hands and took a long swing.

Forrester grinned sheepishly. "Y'know, Darlin', for a minute there it almost
sounded like you have feelings for me."

Christi swallowed a mouthful of bourbon and said, "You're not a bad guy
Winston. I care about the real you, not this facade."

"Does that mean you'll have sex with me now?" Forrester asked, jiggling his
eyebrows like Groucho Marx.

Christi choked and blew bourbon out her nose. She looked up at Forrester as
she dabbed at herself with a tissue from her belly bag. "No. I don't sleep
with losers. And don't ever do that again when I've got a mouth full of
something."

"Even if I lost the dress and the earrings?" Forrester prompted, trying to
hide his suddenly bruised emotions. The mischievous grin on his face was
turning his chiseled features into something just shy of breathtakingly
handsome.

"Don't be an idiot," Christi said. "Now straighten up your skirt and sit
like a lady." She started to pull herself to her feet when his hand snapped
out and pulled her down into his warm, strong arms. Forrester's lips met
hers roughly and the world fell away beneath her. A strange lethargy, that
she decided to attribute to the bourbon, flowed over her in a warm wave. Her
arms moved around his neck of their own accord while she deepened the kiss.
He groaned deeply in his throat and held her even tighter, crushing her
against his muscular torso.

Just then a teeny tiny red headed angel, wearing flowing white robes and
graceful wings, appeared on one of Christi's shoulders.

"Exactly what do you think you're doing?" She chided, placing a hand on her
tiny hip and shaking a finger in the direction of Christi's ear. "Don't you
have any self-respect? Besides, you don't have time for this, Valeria and
Anita might be in trouble and here you are locking lips with a man wearing
fishnet stockings. What would your mother say?"

"Hey! Leave her alone, bitch!" Shouted the tiny red devil woman who'd
materialized on Christi's other shoulder wearing leather bondage gear and
thigh high spiked boots. She puffed on a large cigar and cheered Christi on.
"You GO girl!"

Angel-Christi shuddered. "You are impossible to work with!" she snapped at
Devil-Christi. "I intend to file a complaint."

"Oh yeah?" Devil-Christi sneered and then snapped her fingers. She began to
sniff the air in mock surprise. "Hey! I smell something burning!"

"You do?" The angel asked, her eyes widening in alarm.

"Yeah, smells...like feathers." Devil-Christi grinned wickedly. "Say, you
have feathers. Must be you!"

"EEEEK!" The angel squealed and jumped. She began swatting at her feathers
which were spitting flame and smoke. "You horrible woman!" She cried, and
then disappeared in a shower of brilliant stars. Smoke hung in the air, and
a single white feather floated to the ground where she'd standing been only
moments before.

"Heh, heh, heh," cackled Devil-Christi, drawing heavily on her cigar. "Okay
girl! Let's see some action!"

Forrester chose that moment to break the kiss and sniff the air. "Hey," he
said. "Do you smell something burning?"

"Wha…?" Christi said finally able to gather her senses. She struggled to sit
up, looked around herself and blinked. Her eyes focused on the gun rack
beside them, the image making everything snap sharply back into place. "Oh
my God," she cried. "Anita and Valeria! What the hell was I thinking?" She
scrambled to her feet and made a dash for the door.

"Damn," the devil woman muttered and disappeared in a bright orange burst of
flame.

Forrester beat Christi to the door and leaned on it. "What's going on? Is
there trouble?"

"Open it!" Christi demanded loudly, pulling on the door.

"Spill," Forrester growled.

Christi let out a breath to steady herself and spoke quickly. "Valeria saw
some guy on TV that she believes may be behind the penguin attack. She and
Anita went to Cathedral Tower downtown to take a look. She told me to check
out a few things and call her, but her cell phone's been offline for hours.
That's not like her. She'd have called by now and I think something's wrong.
We need to get the team out there."

"We're not going to tell anyone," Forrester said quietly. He reached into
his jacket, pulled out a gun and aimed it at Christi.

"What the hell are you doing?" Christi said, her voice a bare whisper. She
moved away from the door, realizing that her gun was on the floor on the
other side of the room. "Easy there Forrester. It's okay."

"No, darlin' it's not," he replied. "Nothing will be okay until I get a
chance to prove myself to everyone, especially you. I think I love you,
Darlin', and I can't wipe the slate clean if I'm always screwing up. You
were right. It's time to stop worrying about the past and be a man, and
you're gonna help me do it."

"That's ridiculous!" Christi said, trying to sound calm and in control of
the situation. "You weren't supposed to actually take my stupid advice, just
listen to it!"

"Too late," he grinned. "Now, you're the penguin expert around here, help me
get together what we'll need, and don't try any funny stuff."

"You wouldn't shoot me," Christi stated bluntly. "You're too much of a
coward."

"Just about enough of a coward that this gun was meant for me, Darlin'," he
replied grimly. "There are enough bullets in it for two."

Christi stared at him in stunned silence.

"MOVE!" Forrester bellowed.

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

Cathedral Tower, Toronto

"Okay, that's it, I've had it!" Valeria tumbled up a few more steps before
collapsing on the landing between two floors. "I need a break. What floor is
this anyway?"

"Fourteenth," Anita panted, bending to absently rub her right knee. She
laughed to herself though her eyes were serious.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. Just a bit of deja vu." Anita put her back to the wall and
slid down until her butt hit the floor. She was silent for a long moment,
quietly catching her breath and looking at Valeria as if deciding whether to
continue with what she'd started to say. "The last time I had to run up a
long flight of stairs like this it changed my life," she said finally.

"Really?" Valeria glanced at the animator. "How so?"

Anita took a deep breath, held it and then let it out again. "I guess, with
all the media coverage we got, you know that I was the human servant of the
Master of St. Louis until recently."

"You mean that Jean-Claude guy? The french dude?" Valeria replied. "Yeah, it
was all over the news. By the way, I liked your Rolling Stone cover, but I
didn't think that red leather thing was you."

Anita cringed and blushed. "Yeah. Amazingly Jean Claude didn't even have
anything to do with that. At least it was better than the People covers.
Every shot had Jean Claude looking perfect and me with that 'deer caught in
the headlights' look."

"Okay, you started this." Valeria smiled and turned sideways and stretched
her legs across the step to get comfortable. "Tell me about how your life
changed."

Anita smiled sadly. "I hope you realize that I shouldn't even be telling you
any of this," she said. "In fact, there was a time that I couldn't tell you.
Before Sigmund, I mean, when I thought he was just a toy, I didn't spend a
lot of time thinking about my life. There was just too much going on."  She
chewed on her lower lip, her eyes drifting to some distant memory. "There
was just too much pain, too much guilt, too many games, too much... of
everything. But Sigmund changed all that for me. He taught he how to open my
eyes. I have a new perspective on things that I can live with now." She
looked at Valeria again. "I can't believe I'm saying this, let's just forget
it." She started to stand.

"Hey!" Valeria said, not moving. "Anita. Maybe you're saying it because you
need too. So Sigmund taught you to open your eyes, that's sweet. But nothing
compares to girl talk. So spill, girlfriend. Tell me how running up a flight
of stairs changed your life."

Anita shrugged and nodded slowly, then sat down again and began. "It goes
back a few years. I was working for Animator's Inc. and consulting for RPIT.
At the time there'd been a bunch of serial vampire killings in the city and
Jean-Claude had decided I was going to work for him, not only to find the
killer but, as it turned out, to stand with him against the current Master
of the City. I didn't even want to do it, but he...," she stopped and shook
her head. "Um, forget that part, just suffice it to say that I never saw
coming what happened next. I was running for my life, up a flight of stairs
and these two blue lights just appeared out of nowhere. The next thing I
knew, the world was cold and blue and then it all came back again in a
rush."

"What was it?" Valeria asked, intrigued.

"It was Jean Claude, giving me the first mark. I didn't even know it was
happening at the time." Her chin sunk to her chest for moment and she
sighed. "Nothing was ever the same for me again. Bastard."

"Something must have happened to change your opinion of him. I thought you
said that you loved him," Valeria asked carefully.

Anita blinked and nodded. "Well, I did. It's hard to explain. It was a
really different kind of love. I didn't know a person could love that way
until I realized what I felt for him. It runs deep, but it's not comfortable
or warm at all. It's exciting and scary and decadent and very, very
addictive."

"That's amazing, considering what happened," Valeria said.

The petite necromancer shrugged. "This is the weird part. I've made my peace
with what was going on at the time. If you knew me you probably wouldn't
believe it, but I see now that what Jean-Claude did ended up being good for
the city in the long run. Even Sigmund says so. Still, there will always be
a part of me that won't forget or forgive that one moment. He's pissed me
off more times than you can imagine. There were times, Valeria, that I
wanted to just put a stake in his heart and walk away, but I couldn't. In
many ways, he was so much like me inside. It was the main thing about him
that both attracted and terrified me. Sigmund called Jean-Claude my soul's
twin." She smiled. "Jean-Claude was like a strange reflection of a lot of
the parts of me that make me who I am. When he died, it felt like he'd
stolen a piece of my soul and took it to hell with him.

"Lots of people feel that way when a loved one dies," Valeria said.

"It was that way with Richard, but I'm starting to believe that in Jean
Claude's case it was more a matter of fact," Anita replied her voice gone
monotone with repressed emotion.

"Richard?" Valeria watched Anita fidget where she sat, her eyes starting to
brim with tears.

"That is one very long story," she said. "Y'know, when I first met Richard,
it was love at first sight. From the moment we met I looked into his eyes
and knew that he was a good person; the person I'd always wanted to be. He
was tall and strong and beautiful and there was this inner light to him, a
kind of burning purity that I thought would keep the monsters from my door
when I needed to get away from them."

"Your knight in shining armour?" Valeria grinned.

Anita chuckled, but then shook her head sadly. "Sigmund always used to say
how amazing it is, that we can do so much harm to those we love when we put
them up on a pedestal. We expect too much. We expect them to reach inside
and fix us, when the fact is that they're only human," she frowned, "or,
whatever. The point is, when we find out that they can't make us better
people, all we can think of is how badly we've been betrayed, we forget to
blame ourselves for expecting them to work miracles in the first place."

"God, what happend?" Valeria shifted across the step towards Anita.

Anita pursed her lips and viciously dashed the tears away from her eyes.
"Sigmund said that the problem was that Richard had built up this persona
that he faced the world with. It really was like shining armour in a way. I
both loved him and ridiculed him for it. He thought that as long he held
true too his moral code he could turn anything around. He thought the light
would always burn away the darkness and eventually result in a better world,
but then he found that in order to even begin to create a world like that,
the person doing it would have to take some of that darkness into himself.
When he finally did, it changed him. Everything changed then, and it wasn't
all his fault. It was mine too."

"Anita," Valeria said, trying to sooth her. "Hey, it'll be okay."

"No, it won't," Anita replied tersley. "I can't even begin to start
explaining the Lupanar. Please don't ask me. The three of us hadn't even
become a tri yet officially but they were already both inside me by that
time. Sigmund told me. He said that from the first time we tried to invoke
the Tri I gave up a big part of myself. I was the anchor, the catalyst that
made it possible not only for us three to share power but to strengthen our
own powers as well. By that time we were already like one person. I wasn't
me any more. I was the Tri, just like Richard and Jean-Claude were the Tri."

"Anita, I don't understand."

Anita continued as if she hadn't heard Valeria speak. "Richard offered me
his power, he offered me the choice to share his life and the responsibility
of guiding his people, but I rejected it. I couldn't accept. Subconsciously
I knew it couldn't ever just be the two of us. I looked into his eyes as he
began to shift and it wasn't only his beast that scared me but... his life.
There was so much life in him. I needed to ground myself before I
overloaded." She lifted her hands and looked at them, before continuing.
"Valeria, I draw life from the world around me and feed it to the dead. It's
a cycle that can't be done half way. The dead are my children. Without them
I keep absorbing all this life and then if it isn't directed it begins to
leak out of me and do whatever it wants. That night I needed to touch the
other part of what made us, the Tri, one. I needed to feel the power of
death. I ran to Jean-Claude and that night we made love. It just happened. I
didn't even stop to think about what I was doing. God I was blind with...
wanting, with needing; with lust. The air was thick with it."

"Sounds, um, um... intense."  Valeria brought a hand to her forehead and
smiled sheepishly.

"It was," Anita said. "If there was anything that did make it right, it was
that I did it for more than lust. I felt connected to Jean-Claude that
night; felt like I needed him so much when he offered himself to me. I'm
still not sure if it was truly my own feelings or his influence, because I
found out later that he was a...." she paused and looked up at Valeria, her
eyes opened. "Uh, forget it. The point is that it destroyed Richard for
months. I loved two men and nearly destroyed one. It took a long time for
him to heal his heart after that."

"Anita, you have completely lost me here," Valeria was close enough now to
put a hand on her shoulder. "Richard shifted? He's a lycanthrope? I assumed
Richard was human!"

Anita took another deep breath. "Richard was an Alpha werewolf who later
became the Ulfric of the local pack, Valeria. We were going to get married.
We were going to be just like normal people. All I had to do was accept his
beast, but I couldn't help but see the contradiction in terms, y'know?"

Valeria nodded, unable to think of anything to say.

"He was a good man," Anita added. "But deep down, he was a mess of
contradictions. He hated his beast, but at the same time he was proud of the
heritage and people he had suddenly become a part of. He was a victim of
circumstance desperately trying deny what had happened to him by becoming
the ultimate 'anti-monster'. Still, despite that, he wanted to make a better
life for all of his kind, so they could live in a world where it was okay to
be a lycanthrope. He was just starting to sort himself out when the
assassination occurred. I loved him deeply and I miss him." She put her
hands over her face. "I miss Jean-Claude too, but forget I said that.  I
can't beleive I'm telling you this," she whispered.

"The assassination? He's dead too?" Valeria asked softly, silently making
the connection. "You're talking about Richard Zeeman aren't you?"

Anita nodded and drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them, a
vulnerable gesture strangely at odds with her reputation. "Richard was the
other man in the news, the school teacher, who died with Jean Claude in the
arena and the third member of our Triumvirate," she said. "It's almost funny
that I was actually grateful when Sigmund put his marks on me because they
became dominant over what kept me connected to the Tri. It gave me a chance
to heal the parts that had been torn out to accommodate Richard and
Jean-Claude, though in a way I don't think I'll ever be truly healed.
Sometimes I still feel them, deep inside."

"I'm surprised Jean-Claude and Richard didn't do anything to stop Sigmund
from marking you," Valeria said, incredulously.

Anita sniffed. "I don't think Jean Claude ever knew about Sigmund. Sigmund
revealed himself to me when I thought I couldn't take another second of
misery and he taught me that I had the power to block out the things I
didn't want Jean-Claude and Richard to know. Sigmund was like a haven away
from both of them. He taught me how to live and be happy again. The problem
was, I never stopped loving Richard or Jean-Claude. They were my family.
Sigmund understood that. He explained it to me. He told me that eventually I
would have to go back and accept a different way of life. Not everyone gets
kids and white picket fences, but they can still find happiness."

"Well, it's rare, but it's not like it hasn't been done before," Valeria
smiled. "Who cares, especially if you get to spend the rest of your life
truly in love. Most people never discover what that really feels like.
You've found it with not one, but two other people. Things could be worse."

Anita bit her lip hard and unsuccessfully fought back the tears that were
now spilling down her cheeks unchecked. "It's not how I was raised. It's
just plain wrong. You aren't supposed to love two men at once, are you? You
aren't supposed to want them both as well. Here they are, dead, and I feel
like a widow, mourning for both of them and it's all my fault. Mine."

"Anita," Valeria chose her words carefully. "There's more to your story
isn't there? I think you know who killed Jean-Claude and Richard. Do you?"

Anita shut her eyes tightly and nodded. "Edward. It was Edward. The tall
blonde guy you saw with me earlier. He was hired by Sigmund to kill
Jean-Claude. That was half the reason I came to the decision to kill
Sigmund, the rest being that I found out about the Penguin Wars and the
world domination plans. The vampires of St. Louis couldn't lose Jean Claude.
Pain in the ass that he was, he was the best thing that ever happened to
them. Unfortunately, Humans First wanted the same thing Sigmund did, but
they'd found out about Richard too. Somehow they managed to get them both to
that Arena at the same time. Edward never did tell me exactly what happened,
only that he had no choice but to kill them."

"He killed both of the men you loved and that was a good enough excuse? You
didn't kill him for it?" Valeria asked incredulously.

Anita looked pained. "You couldn't possibly understand, Valeria. This is
really the first chance I've had to think about it since Sigmund died. He
helped me through so much, but that all got shot to hell when I killed him.
The Munin's been keeping me busy ever since. Somewhere in the back of my
mind I'm aware that Edward owes me big time. We have an arrangement."

Valeria did a double take and then shook her head in amazement, realizing
that, whatever Anita said, Richard Zeeman hadn't been the only mess of
contradictions in the group of three. Not much of Anita's soliloquy had been
about her part in the ongoing drama of her life. Eerily she seemed to be
quoting and feeling the things Sigmund had instilled in her. The way Valeria
saw it, the penguin had quite possibly messed up the young necromancer even
more than she had been to start with; only dug it down deeper and covered it
up with pretty words for her to hide behind. Anita Blake still had a long,
long way to go and someday, she'd have to do it on her own.

"And that's why running up these stairs gave me this sense of deja vu,"
Anita said throwing her hands up and sniffing loudly. "There. I told you.
That's also why the penguins mean so much to me. They're innocents caught up
in something that they never had any say in. Their lives have been forever
changed by this Pisces guy. Whatever is left of Sigmund's marks has tied me
to them. I have to save them so they can have a happy life, and so I can
keep them with me and keep Raina from taking over. This war has to end, and
the only way to do this is to stop Dr. Byron Pisces. He's gonna pay." She
pushed herself to her feet and started up the next flight of stairs. "You
know, Valeria, you were right. This girl-talk stuff really helps. Thanks."

"You're welcome, but, wow, sorry I asked." Valeria stood and brushed off her
jeans, trying to shake a sense of having lived years of Anita Blake's life
in a matter of minutes. "Ever think of writing a book about it? I bet it
would hit the best seller list, easy."

Anita shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe someday. But for now, do me a favour?
Don't tell anyone what I said. I don't normally pour my heart out to total
strangers. For some dumb reason, I felt like I could trust you."

"Nothing dumb about it. You can." Valeria smiled. "Okay, back to business.
Is that knee gonna hold up another one hundred and eleven flight's worth of
stairs?" She asked.

Anita had paused halfway up the next flight to rub her knee again. "It's got
to. The question is, will it? I'm not good on stairs. I'm in serious pain
here and the right one is starting to make popping noises." She sat down on
the step and rubbed her face with both hands. "This isn't good."

"Okay," Valeria said tapping her foot and thinking. "It's a big building.
We're only heading to the one hundred and twenty fifth floor because we're
working on the assumption that the penguins are there because Pisces is
there. How do we know for sure?"

"Good question. We don't." Anita nodded. "I never thought of that."

"Your penguins told you not to go down the stairs to the car park, now
they're gonna have to do a little better," Valeria said. "You're not exactly
chopped liver in the special powers department yourself, why don't you try
to contact them?"

"Me?!" Anita nearly shouted, "Without any marks on me at all? I'm a
necromancer Orbus, do you see any dead people around here?"

"Would it hurt you to try?" Valeria asked, hands on her hips. "Would it?"

"This is so stupid," Anita muttered, then sighed. "But I'll give it a shot.
Stranger things have happened in my life. Keep in mind that if I find out
that this Pisces guy has been torturing my penguins, I can't be held
responsible for my actions." She put her fingers to her temples, closed her
eyes and concentrated.....

{{{(((Twilight Zone music fades in...do DO do do, do DO do do)))}}}

Sixteen floors above, in the Executive Fitness Center, a small purple
penguin lay contentedly on a lounge chair, wearing sunglasses and holding an
umbrella drink in one flipper-like wing. He bobbed his head in time to a
heavy rap beat throbbing out of wall mounted, surround-sound speakers, while
a tall sultry brunette in a tiny string bikini fed him fish. In front of him
the pool was a frothing mass of splashing, squawking, purple penguins. A
beach ball went sailing out onto the deck and was chased by a curly topped
red head in a thong.

Letting out a burp, the penguin stuck the straw of the drink deep into his
beak, but after a moment seemed dissatisfied. Shutting one eye, he squinted
into the drink and snorted in disgust. He tossed the glass over the back of
the lounge chair, where it narrowly missed hitting the brunette but was
deftly caught by a blonde who hurried over to the bar with it.

Just as he was opening his beak for another fish, he froze in place, his
tubby little body tensed and alert, his face a mask of confusion. He waved a
flipper for silence. The music was immediately paused and the splashing
stopped. Legions of glossy, beady black eyes stared at him from the pool. He
lowered his shades and stared back, looking in their direction but not at
them, as if listening to a distant voice.

Moments passed, then he nodded. He seemed to consider something, then, as an
idea hit him, he nodded several more times. After one more nod, he relaxed.
He pulled his shades back in place with a big sigh and gave the sea of
penguin-kind before him the penguin equivalent of a thumbs-up. The cheering
and squawking that followed was near deafening, and the music and splashing
started again. Lying back on the lounge chair, the penguin motioned for more
fish as the blonde placed another drink in his waiting flipper.
 

{{{(((...do DO do do, do DO do do  Twilight Zone music fades out)))}}}

Back on the fourteenth floor stair well, Anita opened her eyes, shook her
head as if to clear it and dropped her hands from her temples.

"Wow," she said. "That really takes it out of you."

"So?" Valeria asked eagerly. "Where are they?"

"The thirtieth floor. Good plan Orbus!"

"Hey, sometimes I do have them," Valeria smiled. "So let's get a move on!"

"Pingu said to bring more ice," Anita said, cringing. "I can only imagine
how they must be suffering!"

"Don't worry Blake," Valeria soothed. "We'll make the bastards pay."

Continued in  Issue 8  of PENGUIN$...

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