Two Years Ago:

"Tom? Tom Sloane?" Daria asked, seeing her high school boyfriend in the institutional government waiting room, obviously also there for a job interview. Oddly self-conscious, she checked her knee length black skirt and dark green business coat.

Looking up, the young man in a dark gray suit and tie said, "Daria? What a surprise."

"Yeah," she said with a bit of bitterness in her voice. "Don't tell me that you have family connections here, too."

He sighed. "Daria, I'm sorry you didn't get into Bromwell, but that was years ago. And no, my family's tendrils don't reach into here. The CIA is still free of our corrupting influence."

"So then, what brings you here? Trying to extend the family influence?"

"Actually, I'm trying to get out from under it, at least for a little while. I want to do something different. What about you? A little more Melody Powers in you than we thought?"

"Maybe, a little. Jane was right; I was boring in college. I guess you could say I'm looking for a little adventure."

Tom chuckled. "So, how's Jane these days?"

"Starving artist. Well, not exactly starving. You know how she can always manage to find something to eat, but she's certainly not as successful as she'd like."

"I take it your writing hasn't sold well."

"Let's say it's a good thing I actually majored in forensic science."

Tom cocked his head. "That's something I hadn't expected."

"I like to look at details and find the truth. With my people skills, I could never be a reporter and you really need to get some credentials as a reporter before anyone would let you write a column. I tried editing and didn't like it. Therefore, I looked for a major outside of writing.'

"I seem to remember Jane once joked about a career test that pegged you for a mortician."

"That required too much contact with the public."

"That, I can see. So forensics is what got you in the door here?"

"Yes. What about you?"

"Art History."

"Huh? That sounds more like Jane."

"Actually, she first piqued my interest, and then you added to it. I specialized in the forensic aspect: understanding and detecting forgeries. The same techniques are good on a wide variety of documents and artifacts, which is why I assume I'm here."

"Meaning, they must've found a bunch of dead terrorists. They want me to figure out what killed them and you to figure out if their papers were real."

"Not exactly," a man's voice said from hidden speaker. "Ms. Morgendorffer, Mr. Sloane, welcome. Both of you have impressive resumes."

Tom said, "Has the interview started?"

"Yes," the voice replied.

Daria asked, "Isn't it a little unorthodox to have both candidates for a position in the room at the same time?"

"Ms. Morgendorffer, you and Mr. Sloane are not interviewing for the same opening."

"Oh," she said, taken aback.

"We are familiar with your backgrounds and believe that you will be effective partners. Providing, of course, both of you are hired."

Suspicious, Tom asked, "How familiar?"

"We've contacted all of your references and several additional persons at Bromwell University. The same with Ms. Morgendorffer and some of the faculty at Raft College."

"That level of investigation is unsettling," Daria said.

"Understandable. However, we are interested in you for one of our highest security divisions. Therefore, we are permitted more extensive than usual background checks on applicants. Our invitation for an interview means that you qualify for Top Secret clearance. Which also means that anything said after this time is considered Top Secret and you are not at liberty to discuss it with anybody. If you do not feel comfortable with that, you may leave now."

Daria and Tom looked at each other for several seconds before looking back in the perceived direction of the speaker.

The interviewer said, "I see you wish to stay; excellent. How do you feel about working with very highly unusual subjects or situations?"

"What kind of unusual situations?" Daria said.

"What many would consider paranormal."

"Are we on Sick, Sad World?"

"I assure you, this is very serious."

Daria sighed. "Paranormal? Are you really expecting us to take you seriously?"

"From time to time, we receive intelligence on unusual threats. While on the surface, they may seem bizarre, they still must be investigated. Some prove to be without merit, others are found to have a real threat hidden under the surface. We need intelligent, skeptical investigators for these cases, people who can weed out the fact from superstition."

"Okay, so this division investigates nutcases that believe in weird things that can lead them to commit real acts that are a threat," Daria said. "But, why is this so secret?"

"Because in very rare cases, the threat isn't under the surface."

Tom said, "Are you saying that there have been real paranormal threats to the United States?"

"Yes. Though what we often consider paranormal is what we later learn to be normal, just operating on principles we haven't understood, or sometimes, haven't even previously considered."

Daria said, "Good. I was afraid you'd make a comment about the Ark of the Covenant or something."

"Don't worry, that movie was a complete work of fiction," the interviewer replied. "We would never have contracted out such an important mission to an amateur."

"If you don't mind, how long has your division been in operation?" Tom asked.

"We were created by executive order of President McKinley in 1898."

"Then, you predate the CIA," Daria said.

"Yes. We were originally an independent organization, but were consolidated with the OSS during WWII."

Daria narrowed her eyes. "You were created in response to the Maine explosion?"

"Exactly. There were…many…alternative suggestions made about the loss of the USS Maine. We were created to investigate some of the more creative ones. Including what proved to be the real cause of the event."

Tom said, "Which I'm sure you won't tell us unless we agree to work with you."

"Tom," Daria slowly said, "We're asking the questions. This interview isn't for them, it's for us."

"Very astute," the interviewer said. "Do you have any more questions?"

Tom looked at Daria, remembering her old wit and biting commentary. "Just one. How negotiable is the starting salary?"

Twenty Months Ago:

Placing her pistol on the forward rest and removing her ear protection, Daria pushed the button to retrieve her target from down range. After unclipping the sheet from the pulley wire, she checked the acceptable, but not great, cluster of hits on the target torso. She then stepped back and looked around the booth divider at Tom, who was examining his target. Seeing the wide-spaced pattern, Daria said, "Good thing most paranormal threats aren't affected by bullets."

"I think I'd do better with a backpack particle accelerator beam. Too bad we don't have any."

"Yeah, what's up with that? We're in a super-secret government agency that investigates the paranormal and we don't get any great toys. No particle beams, no neuralizers, no sonic screwdrivers, nothing. Hell, we even have to buy our own sunglasses, which kind of bites, since mine are prescription."

"Still can't wear contacts?"

"Jane teamed up with Quinn to talk me into it when I was a sophomore in college. They'd hoped that I would become interested in dating. Neither idea worked out."

"I didn't date much in college, either. It spawned some interesting rumors that I was a robot."

"There were some of those about me, too. I preferred them to some of the more salacious speculations. I can't really blame Jane for getting fed up with creeps asking her if I would join in on the action."

"If you don't mind me asking, why didn't you date much in college?"

"I wasn't interested and, I know that this sounds odd, it didn't feel right. What about you?"

"Almost exactly the same."

"You never did keep in contact like you said you would."

Tom looked away, downrange to the backstop. "It was harder to do than I thought. Daria…the K Street Theater shows Fellini films every Wednesday night. Would you like to catch some pizza for dinner and watch tonight's show?"

Daria looked downrange, also. "I think I'd like that."

Eighteen Months Ago:

Leaving the training building, Daria said, "We don't get special weapons, but I have to admit that they have some nice forensic toys to play with."

"In miniature, too," Tom said. "Those are more along the lines of what I expected from the CIA."

"Microsamples, no-residue finger printing, compact digital microscopes. I could get used to this."

After rounding a corner, they entered the garage and went to the third parking level by the elevator, exiting and quickly finding a blue, nearly new, high-end sedan. Tom opened the door for Daria before going around the car to enter it himself. Daria looked at the headliner while Tom started the car. "This is a big improvement on that old Pinto."

Tom turned to her. "Sometimes, I miss that old car. It had a lot of good memories."

"And some not so good memories," Daria sternly replied.

"Or mixed memories," Tom said in defense. "I know it was wrong, but I can't forget the first time we kissed."

Daria turned her head to him and sighed. "Okay, mixed. I liked it, too."

Each leaned toward the other and gently embraced as they kissed. When they parted, Daria softly said, "Dammit."

"Now I remember what I've missed all these years."
"You went your way and I went mine, and yet, we arrived at the same place. All those reasons I gave you proved to be wrong."

Tom shook his head. "You were right back then. But sometimes, things change over time. Maybe that's what we needed."

One Year Ago:

Moving with slow precision and care in the dark room, Daria completed packing her purse-like field kit and closed it. Scanning through the light intensifier goggles, she saw Tom completing his work. Quietly, she stayed low and crossed the room to the door to wait for him, watch and listen for any sign that they had been detected.

Tom returned the documents to their folders and placed them back in the filing cabinet before gently closing and locking it. Also crouching, he joined Daria. Using hand signals, he opened the door and Daria scanned the corridor. Seeing that it was clear, she moved out and headed for the stairwell. Once she signaled, Tom followed. Just as he reached the door, she opened it and he checked the stairs. Finding it safe, they followed the stairs down while alternating opening and checking each door and intersection.

At the outside exit, both stopped and took their goggles off, collapsing them into a compact unit, followed by fine, supple gloves. Daria placed hers in the field kit, folded the handles into hidden pockets and reattached a shoulder strap, completing its transformation to what looked like an innocent purse. Tom placed his goggles into the black leather briefcase he carried. Daria smoothed and adjusted her dark sweater and dress slacks. Tom made sure his dark gray dress shirt was neatly tucked in and free of wrinkles.

After a final check of everything they left the building, with Tom thoughtfully locking the door behind them while using a silk handkerchief to prevent prints. He then folded it neatly and placed it back in his shirt pocket before they walked away as a stylishly dressed couple out on the town.

A couple blocks away, they entered a rental car and Daria drove them away through the narrow streets of Athens. Tom asked, "We have a little time, do you mind making a side-trip?"

Daria gave him a side-glance. "A side trip?"

"Not too far."

Wary, Daria said, "Okay."

Following his directions, they found themselves at the foot of a hill, looking up at the Acropolis under the moonlight. Tom said, "Okay, this is the place."

"Tom, this really isn't a good time for sightseeing."

He opened the door and took a step away from the car. "Mind coming here for a minute?"

"Tom, we really shouldn't be doing this; we need to get those samples and analyses out of here."

"We still have a little time before we need to be at the airport. Humor me, please."

"Only if it will hurry this up." Daria got out of the car and stepped over to Tom, who knelt down on one knee.

"Tom, what the Hell are you doing?"

From a small, hidden pocket of his shirt, he took out a diamond ring with a bow made of thin, green ribbon in lieu of a box or other wrapping. "Will you marry me?"

"What?'

"Will you marry me?"

"We're in the middle of a mission! Don't you think you could've found a better time?"

"When are we again going to be at the Acropolis under a full moon?"

Weakening, she said, "Where's your sense of priorities?"

"Right where it should be, with you at the top of the list."

Daria stared into his expectant eyes for several seconds before whispering, "Yes."

Five Thousand, Six Hundred Years Ago:

Seated on a simple stool outside of a waddle and daub, one room house, a young woman with curled, black hair swiftly moved a bone needle through the pale yellow woven linen of a shirt. Etraya's strong fingers pulled the thread to just the right tension and then she knotted it off, completing the final hem. She placed the precious needle into a bone tube and inserted a soft wooden stopper. She stood and held the shirt out at arms length, satisfied with all of her hard work of spinning, weaving, dyeing and finally sewing. "Cavius will be happy," she said, speaking of her new husband.

Etraya took the shirt inside the single-room house and neatly placed it on a fur covered reed mat used for sleeping. After a fast trip outside to retrieve the stool, she placed it before a loom resting against one wall and sat down. Although a luxury to have one in her home, it was also a necessity because of the unease the other women of the village felt around her when they gathered in the weaving house.

Threading the shuttle between warp threads and tapping the weft down with a thin board, she enjoyed the quiet and tried not to think of the occasional loneliness. Never unfriendly, the other women still kept her at a distance, unsure of her and always wary.

"Etraya?" a small girl's voice called from the door.

She turned. "Yes, Lysta?"

"My mother still isn't feeling well."

Etraya immediately rose and grabbed a leather bag from where it was hung on the wall next to the loom. "Has she been drinking the broth I showed her how to make?"

"Yes."

Following the girl, Etraya was worried. The herb broth should've worked quickly on the pregnant patient, relieving the weakness and nausea. And it was not only this case, many charms and potions seemed weaker or even ineffective. Etraya thought of her old mentor's warnings: magic was fading quickly. Within one or two generations, it may be gone.




Noticing unusually dark smoke rising, Cavius approached the neighboring village cautiously, with the same silent, careful movements used to stalk a deer. Several strange men holding spears stood on the edge of the village, watching something going on inside. After a couple minutes, a painfully gaunt figure strode toward them. Pale skin was stretched over a narrow skull, almost making it look bare. A hooded robe of dark fur covered most of the rest of the figure, except the hands and long fingers that looked almost as skeletal as the face. One of those hands held a short wooden staff with a long, flint knife fixed on one end, the kind of tool used to harvest grains and flax.

For several seconds, the apparition discussed something with one of the men. Suddenly angry, the figure swung the bladed shaft at the man. When it touched his skin, it was as if a dark shadow had fallen over the man. The victim slumped to the ground and the shadow was drawn up the dark figure's arm, to fade into the fur cloak. The remaining men stepped back and bowed their heads in deference.

Frightened, Cavius backed away as quickly as he dared. The figure looked up and turned his head as if sniffing the air. When the figure pointed the other men toward him, Cavius broke and ran.




Caressing the patient's brow reassuringly, Etraya said, "You must rest for the next few days."

"There is so much to do," the patient tried to explain.

"The other women can help with your chores. I had to give you a strong potion and if you don't rest, you'll lose the child."

The patient nodded. "I'll rest."

Going to the door, Etraya squatted and said to the little girl, "Lysta, go tell the other mothers that yours needs help for the next couple days. They'll know what to do."

"Will my mother be better?"

"I'm doing my best," Etraya said.




Etraya was alarmed to see Cavius at home and winded from a hard run. She hurried to him and grasped his arms. "What's the matter?"

"A reaper attacked the next village. He knows I saw him and sent his men after me. I'm afraid that they tracked me here."

Etraya exhaled in horror. Once of the few benefits of the magic failing was that such horrible, mystic creatures like the soul-eating reapers were fading. Now, she feared, not fast enough. Very rare, reapers were terrifying beings that subsisted entirely on the souls of their victims. Even the hint of a reaper would cause entire villages to flee. As a result, they often fed by surprise and gorged themselves on everyone they could, leaving a village as if it had been hit by a sudden plague.

Cavius continued, "We must warn the others and flee."

Etraya looked over her shoulder to the house she'd just left. "Lyuna is still sick and can't be moved."

"She can't be moved at all?"

"She and the baby will die."

Cavius dropped his head and looked back at the direction he'd fled. The villagers were intensely loyal to each other and if Lyuna couldn't be moved, the others would stay to protect her, even if it meant their own deaths. Not leaving one of their members behind was what made them different from the animals they hunted for food. "I'll gather the men, though I don't know what we can do; they say that mortal weapons can do nothing to a reaper."

"I may be able to help."




From the softly aged but reverently protected charm bag of her mentor, Etraya took a crystal pendant. Inside the perfectly clear hexagonal cylinder was a faint, exact copy of the larger crystal shape, a miniature buried deep within. She placed it around her neck so that it hung down onto her chest. Next, she reached behind her neck and untied the thong, adjusting the crystal so that it rested exactly over her heart. Satisfied, she retied the thong and walked outside to join the gathered men.

Armed with flint knives, spears and bows, the village men whispered among themselves and stared as she joined them. The chieftain said to Cavius, "Are you sure that she can do what she claims?"

"I'll be standing beside her," he replied. "That's how much I believe."

"We could send some more men with you."

Etraya said, "I can only protect one other. It has to be only us."

The chieftain nodded and turned, issuing orders to deploy the men around the village to protect the women gathered around the stricken woman's home. Each man stared briefly at the young couple walking alone to a nearby hilltop before looking away. Every one felt fear about the upcoming battle and respected the two for facing something even more terrifying. The life of a sorceress and her mate were lives set apart, it had always been that way. But for a few seconds, they wished they'd known the couple a little more.

On the hill, they held hands and exchanged a last, slow kiss. Hidden behind a stand of brambles, they looked out and saw the group of warriors around the reaper, confidently making their way toward the couple. Etraya felt a wave of disgust at seeing them. Motivated by fear and greed, and possibly controlled by the reaper, the warriors traveled with it to plunder as it fed. Etraya took a sprig of fresh, green leaves from her bag and tied them onto Cavius' spear. "Leaves of the rootless tree. Forever barred from the touch and comfort of earth, cursed to live on the limbs of other trees. Mistletoe, bane of all that would defy the circle of life and death. May it guide your spear true."

A pale green appeared around the flint point. The reaper's head jerked up to look at them. He sent most of the warriors toward the village and took four with him as he charged the couple. The accompanying men looked uncertain, but followed without visible question.

"Any touch from the reaper can take our souls," Etraya warned. She took Cavius' left hand, placed it over the crystal, and held it there. "Crystal and mirror, heart and shell. Souls to hold and souls to hide and souls to protect. Together, together, our lives and souls will remain safe together."

Both felt a disquieting sense of displacement as she finished the charm. She said, "Our souls are safe. But we need to stay close, or you will not be protected."

He set his spear down and freed his bow, nocking an arrow and targeting the closest running warrior. His shot went low, but still adequate, striking the warrior in the right hip. Shouts rose from the other three and they started running at a sprint toward the brambles.

Cavius nocked a second arrow and released, striking a second high in the chest, causing him to fall backward. His third, fast shot was wide and only struck the third man in the arm, drawing blood but only making him angry. Out of time, Cavius dropped the bow and retrieved his spear.

The brambles caused one warrior to stumble and twist as he was caught in the thorns. Two hard spear thrusts from Cavius pierced the man's chest. The remaining warrior, arm trailing blood from the arrow, dodged around the brambles and a nearby tree, cutting a sharp turn with his spear aimed at Etraya. She threw a black dust in his eyes, causing him to stop and try to blink away the irritant. Too late, he saw Cavius sweep his spear away and then cut back, slashing across the warriors neck.

"Cavius!" Etraya yelled as the reaper joined the fray, his flint blade lashing out at the young man, drawing a deep, red wound across his shoulders. When Cavius spun around, the reaper made a second attack, this one at Etraya. She dove to the side and avoided all but a glancing cut to her hand.

Cavius began to press his attack, using his larger bulk and greater strength to push the reaper back. Keeping a careful distance, Etraya followed while keeping an eye on the mistletoe and hoping the fighting didn't tear too much of it away.

The first warrior hit saw his master pushed back by the brash man and the slender woman. Fighting his pain, he raised his bow and let fly an arrow that struck home in the woman's side. Her cry of pain caused Cavius to turn, almost giving the reaper an opening to strike a real killing blow. Enraged at the pain on his beloved's face, he battered the magical monster back before plunging the spear through its chest.

The reaper fell to its knees and cried out it a loud, piercing scream before fading away into a foul smoke.

The warrior released another arrow, one that embedded itself in Cavius' lower chest. With a labored heave, the young man launched the spear at the warrior, piercing the attacker's abdomen.

Staggering and already feeling weak, Cavius dropped to his knees next to his wife. She barely opened her eyes and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you, always." He embraced his wife, who weakly managed to circle her arms around his chest before they both sunk down onto their sides.

That was how the villagers found their bodies. The reaper's last cry had terrified the attacking warriors and they'd fled after causing little harm to the village. The bodies of the enemy warriors had been carried away and unceremoniously dumped for scavengers to feast upon. The two young lovers were left where they lay and a barrow was raised above them. It was ringed with flowers and in the center there grew a small patch of mistletoe.

Years passed by and the events of that day fell from memory. The village grew and then also faded away, its people blending into the others of the countryside. The magic continued to fade and monsters like reapers became legends and nightmares, changed or unchanged with retelling. Magic also became the stuff of myth and mistaken lore, practiced more from habit than from utility. Some small magic remained, such as in plants that healed, though nowhere near as well as before. And here and there, some talismans and artifacts of magic remained, hidden away from human knowledge and use. Though sometimes, they are found.