The streets are no place for a kid. I should know; I’ve been there. It's not fun. Gods, it's not even sane. But I may never know why I got involved with Spider that day. I don't think I want to know.

There's something about the streets, though. For me, they're my life. I had a normal life once. I made it all the way through high school. Then I left. My family was fine, at least that's what we always said when someone asked. My schoolwork was good, and I was popular enough. I could've done anything--gone to any damned college I wanted to. I could've been a doctor, or a lawyer, or a teacher. I didn't want to. I was tired. Tired of living, tired of being normal. There was something in me, somewhere, that said normal wasn't what I was supposed to be. And normal was all I'd get if I hung around home or studied to follow the rats. So I left. My parents never knew why I left. They'll probably never know. Mundanes, they wouldn't understand.

I spent a lot of time with a lot of problems after that. And maybe it wasn't so long ago, but it was definitely another lifetime. I had no money, and I didn't get a job. Why? That was what I left in the first place. Of course, without money and a job, you tend to find out really quickly that things don't work. I was practical. I did what I had to for survival. We won't go into that right now. Let's just say that black is nothing compared to the darkness of the streets, and that before I found my way to what I was searching for I saw all of it in its blackest splendor.

I know what I did wasn't right. It wasn't wrong either, not for survival. And I found what I was looking for, but I doomed myself in the process. Maybe that's why Spider interested me so. Spider had what I spent two years in hell looking for. What keeps me in that hell to this day, although some would say it doesn't have to. But black is black, and my soul is as black as the braid down my back--at least according to the preachers on the corner. Not that I give a tinker's damn what they say. Their god is someone else's dream-man, something they hold onto because they have no imagination to create their own.

Which brings me to my point, I guess, albeit in a roundabout manner. Those who read this will probably discover that I'm not very linear. Logical, yes; linear, no. I'll try to put events in at least chronological order, but I won't guarantee it. Watch, now that I've said that, I'll do everything perfectly. Murphy's Law sucks sometimes.

Anyway, Spider. I guess it's important to say what made that incident so much different than anything else on the streets. I mean, besides the obvious; on the streets, you don't find much beyond the mundane, but sometimes you get lucky. I did. It took me two years, but I did it. I found the small hole in the system, the place where reality gets its own. Reality is not the mundane world of suburban yuppies and urban freaks. Reality is looking at the river and seeing its Spirit dance; reality is finding the right words, the right motions that life the veil of the Unseen, and let it be Seen.

Yes, you mundane reader, I'm taking about magic. Not spells and tricks like in the fairy-tales. There are no fairy godmothers, at least none like Cinderella's. Darkness has its own sort of magic, and that predominates on the streets. Most people don't see it, even when it draws them in. It's easier to find, though, than the kind outside the streets; there's more people who could see it if they knew how. If they hadn't lost their dreams.

Dreaming brought me to the streets, more because I had no place else to go than because I wanted to be there. But once you're there, you tend to be stuck. It's like quicksand. But I found it. It took me two years and I damn near sold my soul to do it. (if I believed anyone could take it, I might have let them)

But if I keep talking about me, I'll never get to the point. It happened kinda like this:

I said I spent two years in hell. I meant it. Drugs, prostitution, stealing, begging: you see it all the time when you're on the streets.

I hit the streets out of high school, just turned eighteen and looking for miracles. I didn't find them, at least not right away. It took a while. Then I found out that miracles don't have fireworks associated with them. It's all perception. I avoided from the darkness as much as I could.

But I was still on the streets. I spent my time busking, something that doesn't pay as well as some street jobs but it's at least a little bit respectable. For those suburban types who don't know what the hell I'm talking about, a busker is a street musician.

You know, the guy singing someone else's song with a hat out for tips, one of those kinds. I'm decent enough at it. It's amazing what a second-hand guitar and a wooden flute will get you if you've got some talent. I made enough to survive, sometimes to find a place for the night. It's all I asked for, since I'd found the magic. I don't want any sort of fame; I just want to be able to exist with the dreams. And when I die, if there is a hell, I'll most likely be in it. But I'll've had my life, and that's what matters.

But back to the story. It may have been a Thursday; I don't keep count except for weekends when the tourists are out wandering. They pay better. But one day's not much different than any other in this place. I was heading to my latest crash after a long day with very little response. It was cold, and rather dismal, as days are when the sun's not out. The wind was biting through my worn leather jacket (one of the few things I'd kept from home) and the buildings seemed to fade into the sky. Twilight is a strange time in the city; you tend to see the shadows more. I'm good at keeping them away from me. Some of them have appetites I don't want to be part of.

I'd angled my walk to visit the Cat Man, but he wasn't where he belonged. Normally, he's crashed at the park, ten or so street cats tangled around his feet. That's why they call him the Cat Man. But his bench was empty, his corner of the bridge unslept-in. Not too unpredictable for him, but I kinda hoped he'd be there.

I hadn't seen him in days, and I wanted to talk. The Cat Man's a bit on the nutty side, having spent more years than my parents have been alive watching the ghosts wander the street. He's one of the few who knows what I know, and it helps sometimes to have someone to talk to. But he wasn't there, and I'd run out of possibilities. He'd be back the next day, or so. Maybe he convinced the shelters to let his cats in with him; it was rather cold. He hasn't in recent memory - something about the cleanliness of the place -but you never know. Those tenderhearted souls'll let anything in sometimes. So I was off to the warehouse, hoping that the locals hadn't grabbed my stuff and run. Normally, they behave. A busker like me is high in the pecking order, and I'm also pretty good at tracking people down - and convincing them that some things aren't worth the trouble.

I saw a flash of color, in a district where color is a magnet for trouble. Something small and bright-blue, with golden yellow on top, in an alley where only trouble comes. And I heard something. It reminded me of... I don't know, something safe maybe? Anyway, it reminded me of something. So I cut down the alley to see what was tickling my synapses. I was kinda glad I did, 'cause at the same moment one of the Dark gangs noticed the color too. Or the memory. Actually, they'd probably been watching for a while, and they were closer. They wanted what I was aiming for. And I was willing to bet my sanity that it wasn't good for the blue and gold.

Times of trouble, vision sharpens. Narrows. The world is suddenly moving at a pace where I can see every detail. The blue and gold was tucked under a dumpster, and the FlameRunners were aiming right for it, with guns in hand. And knives. My guitar and bag were on the ground before I thought about it, and I was halfway down the alley before the Flamers could blink. There were five of them and only one of me - my favorite odds. I'm not a fighter by choice; I'm a fighter by birth. Genetics. Magic.

They were all mundane, more so than usual due to drugs. That made it hard for my magic to affect them, but not me. I couldn't trip them up, or remove the ground from under their feet. But I could speed myself up, and my reflexes are awful good after two years of streetfighting. I have found that English riding boots make wonderful weapons. Put it this way - at the end of it all, there were two on the ground who weren't gonna get up. The other one might've, and the last two turned tail and ran.

When I got to check out the blue, I was surprised. It was a kid. Maybe seven, but that's pushing it. I swear it looked more like five. A real smart five, but five. It was where the music that caused this all was coming from. The kid was humming, as if it hadn't seen the fight. No fear. The hum was hypnotic. I stopped to listen to it, and I began to See -something I'm not real capable of. I Saw the Dark, Felt the nothingness and the mundaneity of the Flamers. I Saw the brightness of the girl, Heard the music of her potential like a symphony, standing out like a flashlight in a cave a hundred feet underground. Suddenly, I knew how the clair's felt. This wasn't my normal twinge of mage-nearby. This was full-blown clairsentience. It was a dream I'd always wished for. And I Saw trouble… And I do mean Trouble.

Soon as it hit me, I shook off the dream-state. No more illusions. Trouble is not something to be spacing out near. When my mind came back to its housing, the kid stopped humming; she knew my dream time was done. She looked me up and down as if it was the first time she'd seen me. I got blue scrutiny all the way from top to bottom. Those bright eyes took in everything about me: black hair, hazel eyes, dusty flannel shirt, and faded jeans. Suddenly, I wished I'd had a bath recently. I looked like the walking dead compared to the crisp, clean blue jacket and jumpsuit underneath. Even her shoes were clean. First time I ever saw a kid that clean.

Then my brain kicked itself into gear. The Sight is not my normal modus operandi, no matter how much I might wish it were. I can't say if the Trouble was something my brain picked up on, or a real precog episode. Whichever it was, the practical part of my brain said "Get your ass outta here 'fore something nasty shows up. Screw the kid. She's hazardous to the health, Driscoll." The kind of Light the little one was giving off, all the main baddies in this town would be here ASAP, and then so much for the kid. And anyone in the way... Well, let's just say I haven't lived here for two years without learning how to stay alive. And even without any Talent those Flamers found her. I suddenly wondered what they saw when they saw her.

My brain was bugging me as to why I was still standing in the line of fire. "It's only one little kid. What are you gonna do, Driscoll--give her to DSS? They'll send her to the suburbs and so much for that magic spark. She's better off dying with her talent than living as a robot. The Dark'll make sure none of the big baddies have her for long. It's too greedy."

But something else, my conscience maybe, (though I'll be damned if I know where I found one) kept me from moving. That kind of Light is one in a mill. She'll never survive the streets with soul intact. The world needs more like her. My insides may have a lotta black, but good's not totally gone. I guess the brightness in me, feeble enough though it may be, was reaching out to hers. Guess I’m kind of greedy, myself. Light is something no one ever has enough of, 'less they're a damned saint, y'know?

Anyway, my final decision was to do something about the kid. I knelt until I was at her level, and her eyes followed me the whole way down. Curious, she was, and fearless, too.

"My name's Marya," I said in that tone reserved for children and fools, trying to be as nice as possible. "Do you have a name?"

I don't know why I didn't hear him come up, but there was his voice behind me. One of these days I'll find out what his accent is, I swear. Maybe it's just from too much dreaming. "Little Spider, that one's. Weaves dreams people catch so't they can fall apart like mist in ya hands." I looked up to see the Cat Man holding a grey tiger kitten. His normal entourage had swollen to about two dozen, milling there in the alley behind us. As usual, the white shock of hair curled tightly to his dark forehead, standing out like nothing else in that city - save the girl he called Spider. His rags might have been red at one time, but now they were the oddest shades of brown, as were the leather scraps he'd tied to his feet. He took no notice of the bodies on the ground, much as Spider hadn't.

As I stood up, he held the grey tiger out to me. "The cats, they askt me to give the spider a gift. Said this one's bett'n many. Hope she likes'm."

"How come I'm the designated babysitter all of a sudden?" I asked, taking the kitten. I didn't expect much of an answer; when the Cat Man didn't speak in riddles it was time to worry. "Lady Lynx, ya bring it on yaself. Sometimes destiny does what she wants, and hell be to those who stand her away. But ya, ya've giv'n yaself a task. Destiny's let ya take it as ya will. 'Sides, who better in this dark place to keep a kitten from the dark suns as the secret-keeper?" He smiled slightly, holding his hands behind his head. As he stretched to his full height, I noticed the cats were dispersing.

Unfortunately, I was too preoccupied by what he said to care. I damn near understood it, which was bad. It was cryptic, which made it better, but not quite. "Lady Lynx" is his newest nickname for me - he says lynx is the secretive cat, the one rarely seen. I don't know what to make of his names most of the time, but I think I like this one. Part of the reason I was already calling Spider "Spider" - the Cat Man tends to accuracy in that.

When I didn't reply, he hunched his long frame down again. When he does that, he's damn near eye-to-eye with me, and his black eyes are sharper than most knives. Besides, I never know how six-foot-three gets down to five-foot-six. "Ain't ya gonna give'r the kitlin'? The cats, they say it'll do her good. She needs a friend very bad."

I got the hint. "Here ya go, Spider," I said, hunkering back down to her level. Her face lit up with delight (any brighter, I'd be blind. I didn't think the human face ever got that bright). She damn near grabbed the kit from me and hugged it to her. I would've sworn it'd never stand for that kind of treatment, but it kept still. What surprised me even more was that she began to hum again, crooning to the kitten. This time, the visions weren't quite as chaotic. I Saw love in mass quantities and the image of a gray shape on a wall.

"Okay," I said, though whether I was talking to the Cat Man, Spider, the cats, or myself I'll never know. "His name's obviously Shadow." Well, to make things even more confusing, I got that wonderful vision directed at me. I think it was a thank you. It had the tinges of love-gladness-happy-something-not-had-before. Or at least, that's what my frazzled mind took from it. I was slowly coming to realize that Spider didn't talk. I didn't know if she wasn't capable, or had never learned, or just didn't feel like it. Whatever it was, Spider communicated by hum-visions. Something fantastic, if you ask me - she lived entirely in the world of dreams. She didn't give a flying rat about the real world.

The Cat Man tapped me on the shoulder right then. "Ya might want t'get'r somwhere t'ain't here. Soon, someone's gonna take note that those three ain't returnin' homeward." With that, he turned and left us, one more shadow in the fading light. The cats led him off, and made sure he didn't trip over anything.

Much as he's normally 100% nuts, he's also got the caution of the streets. So do I, but I guess Spider isn't conducive to thought. I held out a hand to the little girl, and (I was kinda surprised that I did it, truth to tell, but more surprised that she actually took it) picked up my guitar and bag. We were outta there.

Spider walked quickly for someone with such a small body. I'd never've thought a kid could walk so fast. Of course, I was walking kinda quickly, myself. It was getting very dark in a very bad section of town. My main goal was the warehouse, my most recent crash.

Picture an abandoned warehouse, three stories tall with only a few metal cages on the second level for offices. The rest is open. The place had been condemned some time ago, but the city has yet to find the money to kill it. During the cold weather, there's a whole town's worth of homeless sleeping on the main floor. I found it by accident, during the warmer weather. The cages are perfect for crashing, very private most of the time.

I'm the only one resident in the cages right now, but the rest of the populace trades off by whoever gets there first. I don't mind the company, as long as they keep outta my stuff. That's why I rigged the stairs. I'm the only one who can get them down, although most of the time I don't bother. Ten feet is higher than most people can jump, and there's nothing left in the building to climb on, except other people. And even if some daring soul managed to climb the stairs, the cage door is welded shut. There's an escape hatch in the ceiling of the cage, where I get in, which is always locked. I found a street rat in there one day, and damn near took him to pieces. When he got away, he made sure no one ever tried again. But I'm still paranoid. I don't have much, but what I do have, I'd like to keep.

We got to the warehouse without mishap; thank whatever gods will hear me. Inside, it was the usual crowded mess. I tried to keep Spider and myself off to one side, but as could be expected, we were noticed. Normally, people ignore me. But Spider's something no one wants to ignore.

"Has Miss High-and-Mighty decided to become a mommy now?" I heard clearly over the mutterings.

"Where did you steal the doll? F.A.O. Schwarz?" another voice called.

"Or did you get her as a prize for being a nice girl?" someone else asked. "I'll bet that's what it was, you did someone a favor, right?"

I was trying to ignore them, but the more voices called out, the less others were talking. Soon, everyone was looking at Spider and me. There was a lot of mundaneity in the air tonight, or I might have tried something. But the less magic there is in the area, the less I can do, especially to people who don't believe. Of course, Spider damn near doubles the level of magic in the vicinity, but I was also severely outnumbered.

Spider was looking at me, now, with the kitten clutched tightly in one arm, and the other hand gripped mine. I don't think she was scared, just confused. But I was angry. "Look, she's a stray, alright? I can play good Samaritan if I want to." I picked out the guy who'd made the last comment and stared at him. He'd counted on the crowd to make him anonymous, and I made sure he knew he wasn't. As he wilted, I did a quick search and found the others, just long enough to let them know I knew. They backed down, grumbling. Two of them were regulars, and I knew they resented me because they couldn’t intimidate me. "Anybody else care about this one little stray?"

It was a challenge. Nobody answered, as I expected. They might resent me, but none of them were going to take me on alone. I made my way through the tangle of rags and unwashed bodies, keeping Spider close beside me. She stuck out like a white cat in a dustbin. If she was out on the streets for more than five minutes, I was going to have to do something about the physical appearance.

Somebody else figured that out, too. One of the bag ladies that normally camped near my cage pulled on my sleeve as I went past her stake. Momma Jez, they call her, she'd been on the streets longer than I'd been alive. Her rags were always as neat as she could manage, and she always walked with some sort of slow pride, despite the fact that her sight was going and her joints ached beyond most ordinary people's tolerance. She had no Sight, or indeed any magic, but she has a magic all her own.

"That littl'un ain't a streeter." she whispered harshly. "'Tis plain in her stance. You gonna guard her, y'll hafta make'r look real." With that, she handed me a ragged top and a pair of worn jeans, about the size of Spider. Momma Jez always seems to have just the right thing, or knows where to get it. I thanked her and walked on quickly, knowing that she would appreciate something special later, but that attention right now would be a bad thing for us both. There was too much hostility in the air.

I got us over to the ladder, then realized it was gonna be real interesting to get her up to it with that cat. Oh, well, there wasn't much I could do about it but deal. So for the first time since the winter began, I jumped for the ladder to pull it down. It was easier than usual to strengthen my body for the jump; I thought it might be Spider, but I didn't have any way to find out. The ladder clanged as it slid down, and I landed deftly beside it, picking up my bag and guitar and shooing Spider up. She scrambled up quickly, with a grin on her face. I guess she liked climbing or something. As soon as she was on the stairs, I climbed up and pulled the ladder behind me. We climbed the stairs as quietly as we could; all the while I felt eyes glaring at my back. I would have to be extra-careful from now on.

Spider was delighted when I boosted her up to the top of the cage. Some kids'd be scared of being up so high - I know I was at her age - but not Spider. I jumped up behind her, and opened the hatch to my humble abode. When I'd gotten in, I pulled her and Shadow in. The first thing she did was examine every corner of the room. She took in the mattress I'd lugged up before I fixed the stairs, the ragged blankets from dumpsters, the oil lamp and carton-table I'd constructed. The room was heated by the multitude of small fires from the homeless town below, and I rarely used the lights after dark.

This was my haven from all the ills of the world I dwelt within. And now it had Spider, who thought everything was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. I gave her the clothes that Momma Jez had given me; her response was a questioning hum. So I made her put the kitten down and slid her out of the jacket. The jumpsuit she wore underneath was spotless, even after a walk in the mud, and her sneakers were bright white.

Unfortunately, Momma Jez hadn't given me any shoes, so we'd have to make due and hope that none of the streeters thought her shoes were too pretty. She wore no socks, and there were no tags in any of her clothes, although the quality was really high. I wondered how anyone who could've afforded those could've lost their kid. She had no bruises or anything to mark abusive parents, and she must've lived somewhere for most of her life 'sides the streets. As I figured out how mothers must do the clothing bit, I tried to come up with a reason, and failed. I'd have to go by Social Services tomorrow, much as I hate the DSS, and see what I could find out.

After I got her dressed, I stood back and looked at the new Spider. Didn't look much different from the old one, though she seemed delighted at the rags she now wore. The dirty clothes did little to hide the glow visible to anyone with the smallest bit of dream-sight. The shoes would have to be fixed, as would the hair - she looked like the movie version of one of Holmes' Baker Street Irregulars.

Then it dawned on me that I was supremely stupid. I'd not bought any food of any sort in days, having scrounged a meal or two from one of the lunch carts and I don't eat much anyway. But now there were three mouths in my care, and if I'd taken on all the other responsibilities with Spider, I'd also have to feed her and the kitten. I wasn't about to leave her here by herself; you never know what kind of trouble little kids'll get into, and besides I had some death-wishes that might try taking it out on her, even with all my precautions.

So, out we went, another boost, another jump, another grab and we got down the stairs, mainly by my grabbing Spider up (She's real light, nothing to her but hair, honestly) and jumping down, much as I usually do. I fudged the shadows enough so that no one noticed us leaving, and we headed to Charles'.

Charles' Market is the corner grocery store, about three blocks from the warehouse. It's in a bad district, but it's a family business and Ethan'll never give it up unless one of the gangs kills him. He's got a lot of pride, that one, and he's kept the gangs away for a long time. His son's one of the El Diablos, even though he's only half Puerto Rican.

Fortunately, El Diablo isn't one of the gangs that are Dark. You can't call any gang Light, but they're grayer than most. Ethan knows his son is in a gang, and doesn't really care - fact of life, y'know?

Well, Ethan is usually cool about most anything, as long's it's not gonna harm his pretty little wife or his pretty little store. He's the closest most of us street types come to a supermarket in this end of town (even in this day and age.) As I was pulling stuff off the shelves (and wondering if my slim pickin's for the day would pay for everything, or if I'd have to get on Ethan's good side), the man himself came out of the back.

"Well, hello, Marya, long time no see. What can I help you with toni..?" he stopped mid-sentence as he caught a look at Spider. I mean, a Look at Spider. Ethan's a clair, he's got Sight. He's a precog, sometimes. And he must not've liked what he saw, 'cause his face turned black. (Figuratively, of course. He was royally pissed)

"How dare you?" he damn near shouted in my face. "How dare you, Marya, bring something like that into my store?! The FlameRunners are already after my son's ass for something he didn't do. Do you want to start a turf war in my store?! That...thing... is trouble. Get her out of here now. And I don't want to see you again until you've come to your senses, d'you hear me? Out!" By the time he finished his tirade, he was shouting - he was livid. Spider, for the first time showing something besides delight, cowered back, into my leg. She still looked curious, but she wasn't happy about this new development.

I didn't have time to wonder about that, because I had Ethan to worry about. "What's the matter, Ethan? She's only a little kid. She can't hurt your store."

"Maybe not her, but she's leaving a trail a babe could follow. And my store will have residue for weeks. When they come looking for her, they're gonna know she was here. They're gonna want to know where she went. And I want no part of that." He pointed to the door, quieter now, but no less angry. "I hate to do it to you, Marya, but I can't risk it. Go."

We left. I had nowhere else to go for food, unless we went back uptown. And it was way too late for that, not with Spider. It was Dark time uptown, when the gangs and dealers and hookers held sway. I wasn't about to take a little kid into that. I didn't know what to do. I was trying to think, so I sat down next to the store. Spider hunkered down beside me, and started humming. I felt the magic swirl around me. "Not now, little one. I need to think."

"About what?" I looked up and saw Anthony Charles, Ethan's son, and a couple of the Diablos. "Why you sittin' outsida the store? Papá have a fit at you, Lynx?"

"You might say that." I explained a bit of the situation to him. Anthony's a good kid, even if he is a gang member. He's got more Light than I do, that's for sure. He's one of the few I think might make it if he ever got out of this hellhole. And he keeps dreaming. Part of it's his dad, I'm sure, but part of it's just Anthony.

Anyway, when I finished talking, he got this real determined look on his face. "That's not any way to treat an amiga, or the kid. I'll talk to him. I'll getcha your dinner, Lynx." He went into the store, and I could hear the arguement for a while.

"Papá, why don't you let Lynx into the store? She's always been good for it. She musta got a reason for it. She's bruja, sure, but that's never stopped you before. 'Side's, it's just una niña. No harm in that." Ethan said something in reply, but I couldn't make it out. They were shifting in and out of Spanish, not my best language, and the volume had lowered considerably.. Next thing I knew, one of the Diablos was giving me a hand up, and Anthony was handing me a bag of groceries. Much more than I could afford.

I started to protest, but Anthony cut me off. "No charge this time, Lynx. Papá is too proud to apologize, and he still thinks la niña is bad news. But I wouldn't come back around for a while, if you can help it."

Spider hummed something at Anthony, and he grinned. "That's una niña especial if I ever saw one. Good luck with her."

I mumbled some sort of thank-you, and we left. When we got back to the warehouse, I dropped one of the chocolate bars Anthony'd put in the bag to Momma Jez.

Fortunately, he'd had the sense not to give me anything that wouldn't last. I was into some amazing luck this evening. We had dinner, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and some cans of cranberry juice (it was more of a feast than I'd allowed myself for a long time, actually. I was beginning to feel like a kid myself), and then went to bed. I wasn't sure where I was going to put Spider, so I told her to find a spot and get comfy. She found a pile of blankets and promptly fell asleep.

I woke up to Spider curled up like a cat next to me, with the grey kitten under one arm. It was an odd feeling; I wasn't used to other bodies in my bed. I disentangled myself from the bundle of kid and cat, and went through the morning routine. Spider woke up not long after, and spent the next ten minutes watching the homeless people wander in and out of the muddle down below. I managed to get things relatively clean, and packed up for my day's work.

"C'mon kid, we're going to see the sights," I told her as we left the cage and headed uptown. (We stopped at the public restroom along the way - indoor plumbing is a useful thing, but it requires an actual dwelling place. Like, a legal one)

Uptown during the day is completely different from uptown during the night. (The area I refer as "uptown," just for reference, is normally the area suburbanites call "downtown." It's up from where I am, for certain) The corp types rule, and the tourists gawk. We found a nice spot, blocked from most of the wind; it was another gray day, with the promise of rain later.

Spider loved the music. She hummed and trilled along with my playing from the very first note. It made playing difficult, as I had to keep shifting my perspective in and out of the images and real-world stuff. I suppose I could've told her to hush up, but I know one thing about kids, and that's if you let them get bored, they get into trouble.

It was actually a good thing that I let Spider go at it. I had double my audience; and most of them actually tipped. Even the most dead mundane walking by heard something more in the music. By the end of the day I had enough to get Spider and me through a week if need be. And we were gonna need it, too.

We went to DSS before they closed. I don't feel like relating the whole damned runaround we got. At least seven officious underlings who wouldn't give me a straight answer if I'd paid them the going rate. Four superiors who tried to politely rip me off and jail me 'cause I had an underage kid with no mother. They all but sued me when I refused to give them Spider. Mundanes, all of them. Yours truly was not a happy camper. I finally gave up and we left.

Just as we hit the door, another one assaulted me, an older lady, maybe late 30's, with the kind eyes of the do-gooders of the world. I was not in the mood for either mothering or preaching.

"Look, ma'am, I don't want any more hassle. I'll find some other way to handle this," I said before she could open her mouth.

She glanced down at Spider, then looked back at me. "I think I know. Take my card - if you change your mind, I might be able to do something for her." She had the kind of voice that was used to taking charge, but she didn't use it on me. I was glad for that; the mood I was in, something was gonna die sooner or later.

"Thanks," I managed politely. I pocketed the card, and we left. I was gonna call it a night. It was raining sporadically, and we were both soaked. The stress was too much; I was tired, and angry. Best to sleep on it and try again in the morning. So back to the warehouse we went.

Unfortunately, I wasn't paying as much attention as I should've been. Too late, I heard the sound of bodies behind me. I shoved Spider behind a trashcan and got out of the direct line of fire.

Rather literally. There were ten FlameRunners behind me, and one of them was a mage. I could see the fireball spell not-yet-cast in her hands. Damn, I'd forgotten the Flamers had mages. I'd forgotten Abyss and his cronies. Damn.

The FlameRunners aren't a gang; they're a mafia, under a mage-drug dealer mastermind. I swore under my breath; the stakes had just skyrocketed. This was an organized attack. I knew the mage--a small-timer named Lisa Ellern. She was dressed to the nines, as far as street clothes went, too proud, too confident.

There were no druggies or dead-mundanes among the group, which meant her magic was as close to full as it got. Fortunately, that meant mine was also.

"We want the kid, Driscoll. Give'r up and we'll leave you alone," Ellern said patiently.

I kicked in my high gears. "I don't believe you." It was a play for time. It wasn't going to give me much.

"You don't have to. Just give us the kid."

"Go to hell, Ellern." I ducked a split-second before the fireball that was Ellern's trademark hit the building behind me. Manipulating the area so I was harder to see, I focused the ground below the Flamers into a geyser. I probably got half of them, and gave myself a headache. I hadn't Worked this hard in a long time.

Ellern was not affected at all. "You'll have to try harder." She laughed, tossing another fireball in my general direction. I got behind her and made sure a few more weren't getting up. I got set for another attack as she spun around to face me, hands aglow. Shit, she was using Sight to find me. Right before I got a fireball point-blank in the gut, there was a trill that damn near blacked us both out.

One of the Flamers still standing had Spider. I finished the attack on Ellern (a piece of pavement bisecting her vertically) as I sprinted to the trashcan where I'd left the kid. No kid.

Spider was gone. Which meant the Flamers had her. Which meant Abyss had her. Ethan was right. She was Trouble.

A few notes on the FlameRunner's boss: He's nasty, evil, a mage much more powerful than anyone on the streets. He thrives on darkness and death. He steals the dreams from his victim's lives, through mage-altered drugs and death magic. Streeters know to avoid him, trust me.

He's not a nice guy. They don't call him Abyss for nothing. And I was going to have to go through the largest, most organized Dark gang in town, one of the few that had mages, and go up against the biggest baddie on the streets. And all for one too-bright stray. Damn, I'm stupid sometimes.

As I picked up my bag, I heard a yowling. They'd taken Spider by surprise. She'd dropped Shadow. I put the kitten in my shoulder bag, grabbed my guitar and took off at a run for the park. I remembered the Cat Man once told me he'd had dealings with Abyss. 'Sides, what could I do with a cat in the fight I was heading for?

I don't know why I bothered. Spider had started to mean something to me, I guess. She's the first one in a long time to care, I guess. I was a walking suicide if I hit Abyss. And I didn't stop to think about the alternatives. There was no choice; I had to get Spider back.

Part of it was that I didn't want to think of Spider in Abyss' kind of Dark. Part of it was that I didn't want to know what he could do with her power. That kind of dream-stuff, mixed in with drugs or death-spells... It's not a pretty thought. Part of it was simply that someone had gotten something that was mine, by the rules of the streets. Part of it was just Spider.

My luck held - the Cat Man was in the park, with the requisite dozen furred companions. I skid to a stop, breathing hard.

"Wher the littl'n?" The Cat Man's eyebrows were in his hairline. I'm never out of breath.

"Abyss got her," I managed. My head hurt from the fight and the run; there was magic drain as a tingling in all my limbs and the adrenaline was going away.

"We'v a probl'm then. Why ya come ta th'Cat Man? I ain't no fighter."

"I don't know, I felt like it," I snapped. "You know Abyss better'n I do. 'Sides, they left Shadow, and I don't need a kitten in that fight." I pulled the cat out.

"Ya got a point ther, Lynx." He looked away thoughtfully. "Only t'ing I know 'bout Abyss - don't ya let'm play wi'ya mind. He not at th' same place he'd seen me last, tell ya true. He moves, like th' snake he is."

"I know where he is." What was it with voices from behind me those two days? This time I actually heard them come up. I managed to turn around without gutting them.

"Anthony?" When I saw his face, I knew. There were maybe twenty Diablos behind him, all looking grim.

"They got Papá's shop. The bastardos torched Papá's shop."

"I'm so sorry. Is Ethan okay?"

"He's in the hospital. It's not your fault, Lynx. Don't blame yourself."

Another Diablo spoke up. "We want to get the bastardos. They did more than invade our turf." The rest of them nodded. "They got the warehouse too. Momma Jez an' a coupla others are in the hospital. Coupla the residents led them in."

Cold anger flared in the pit of my stomach. It froze me to my very soul, and I knew this was personal. Not only did they take Spider, they went through my friends to do it, just because they were there.

"The Flamers hole up at the docks - those empty warehouses there," Anthony said. "I liked the kid, no matter what Papá said. Just so you know."

There was a yowl from one of the cats. "Ya's got yaselves a hard track, children," the Cat Man said. "Keep ya sanity, keep ya heads, and ya might survive."

I shot a glance at him - he was talking real sane for him. His responding look said 'I'm only as sane as I need to be. Right now, I need to be very sane.' I got the point. There was much to that man that I didn't know about. Not time for that now.

"Bruja," one of the Diablos ventured, "we know where" he drifted off into some Spanish curse I didn't recognize "are. Let's take 'em out." There were calls of agreement from the ranks.

"It's not even suicide if we charge the place," I replied. "We need a plan."

There was a lot of complaining at that, until one of the gang leaders - Enrique, his name was - shushed them. "Bruja's right. We can't storm them and expect to get proper venganza." I think that's what he said. He obviously meant revenge.

It took us a while, and I think without Anthony and Enrique I would have lost them all a lot sooner. The only plan we could come up with involved most of them getting their charge, and a smaller group - myself, Anthony, Enrique, and two other Diablos - going in after Spider. This gave them their revenge and us a chance to actually get into the place and maybe do something. We all knew it was a suicide mission; that wasn't the point. For many of them, Spider wasn't the point either.

The main group drove off to get ready, and would meet us at the docks in half an hour. I wanted the sneak group to get some things sorted out. That, and I wanted some of my stuff from the warehouse. I made sure that there were no dream-dead in the small group, even though they might be better fighters. I didn't want anything slowing me down.

We talked about what was going to happen, and why, and what we were doing there. We talked about Abyss, what he did, what he was. I wanted them to know, especially, that there was some funky stuff gonna go down. We talked a little bit about magic; Anthony and Enrique already knew about Ethan's Talent. The others took it in stride, I thought. And we talked through death, as only those who have seen it often and faced it more can. We all wanted to make sure we knew why we were running to our deaths. And I wanted all of them to know what I was coming to dread. If this failed, if we didn't stop Abyss, the Flamers would retaliate until every Diablo was dead. And Abyss would have Spider, and gods only knew what he would do with her. It sure as hell wasn't good.

The warehouse was a shambles. I saw the telltale remains of fireball spells (and a few others) among the rubble. No one was there, and the stench of death was high. The cops had been here; the "crime scene" was marked off with tape. We avoided the heavy damage areas, and the Diablos waited while I got my stuff.

For all the bad things happening to me the past two days, my luck was remarkable. The cops hadn't thought to check my little haven, considering it inaccessible from the ground. I rummaged through my stuff for my emergency supplies.

I never thought I'd be running headfirst into a war, but I also know better than to be unprepared. I grabbed all my knives (about five throwing knives, and a few daggers that are damn near illegal on the black market.) and the .45 I stole from my father when I left home. I also changed clothes into something more suitable for warfare.

Most of my clothes are easy to move in. You don't live on the streets in skintight pants unless you're a hooker or an imbecile. But I have some, my practice clothes especially, that are more wearable than others. I must've looked like a ninja, all in black. My braid hung over a close-fitting top and matching army pants tucked into the boots. I wore my leather jacket as extra protection against bullets and blades, but not much else. All dark. All death.

I also spent the time in my cage preparing in more esoteric ways. There are breathing techniques and other little things that hold off the fatigue for a while. I did my best to rid myself of the pain from the fight before and get as much energy as I could for the battle to come. It worked as well as it could, seeing as I didn't have much time. By the time I went down, my anger was my main strength and everything else was in backup.

I'm very calm when I'm that angry. I'm very rational. But it still hurt when I had to pass the husk of Charles' Market. I asked Anthony about his mother's condition; he told me she was with Ethan, having not been in the shop when the Flamers came by. There were tears in the young man's eyes as we walked past. He was eighteen, two years younger than me. But he hadn't been a kid for a long time. The cold fire of my anger flared brighter, colder. Those responsible for this would pay dearly; if I had to haunt them for an eternity to do it, they would pay.

It was still raining when we got to the docks. Rain and seawater can be a gorgeous mix; this was not one of those times. The Diablos were there, armed to the teeth. I felt almost sorry for them - this was more my fight than theirs, and they were more likely to die for it. But they were all born streeters; the risk was theirs to take. Some mothers and sisters would be crying tomorrow, but it was the way of life here.

Enrique, Anthony, the other two and I took a long, wandering route from the head of the road to the warehouse. The main group did not. Before we got halfway there, the firefight had begun, and the cries of dying men filled the air. I found a broken window, and we headed in the back way.

The inside of the warehouse was much different than the one I'd been holed up in. This one had at one time been converted to offices on the second and third levels; it was a major maze, trust me. And there were more levels above those. We caught a glimpse of the firefight out of one window. The Diablos had opened fire on a drug-purification system, and the paraphernalia was going everywhere. But at that time, it was an even match, El Diablo and the FlameRunners.

We crept along, checking every door with at least two guns. There was no one up here; it looked like no one had been here for years. As we traveled, I got more and more nervous about this expedition. What the hell was I doing here anyway? What did it matter to me that Spider got snagged? I could just leave now and go back to living my old life, surviving on my own. I always had, hadn't I? What was so different about this?

Those rationalizing thoughts wandered into paranoid ones. I was risking my own precious skin for no bloody reason. I was going to die here. There was no reason for this; it was sheer insanity. I was killing myself slowly by thoughts alone. It got so that I couldn't think straight. I swear to any gods willing to listen that the only reason I kept going at that point was sheer stubbornness.

The four Diablos didn't seem to be having any problem, which worried me further. This wasn't my fight, it wasn't theirs, and Ethan would kill me slowly if I caused any harm to Anthony because of Spider. But that very lack of worry eventually clued me in - something wasn't jiving with my brainwaves. I heard the Cat Man saying, "Don't ya let'm play wi'ya mind."

Damnit. We were in Abyss' territory. He was known for his mindgames, and I was falling for it. The SOB was good; I'd give him that. Damned if I'd let some mindwarp stop me. As I got the thought through my head, I suddenly could think straight again.

We were almost to the fourth level, out of the offices. First round, my point.

We hit the fourth level, and all hell broke loose. Metaphorically. Or maybe literally, I wasn't in any position to judge. Six Flamers and two mages opened fire on us as we got out of the stairway. We all managed to dodge, except one of the nameless Diablos. He wasn't getting up anytime soon.

And we weren't getting out anytime soon. The mage let off a spell that went wild of all of us, but it took out the stairwell. I might be able to get out, but none of the Diablos could. There was nowhere to go but up.

Enrique and Anthony opened fire on the Flamers. A couple went down. I shot off a wild shot or two, and magically smothered a couple more Flamers. The mages were confused by my tactic, long enough that the other nameless Diablo got one of them. Anthony knifed the other, and by throwing knives and bullets, we finished off the rest. It was a bloody mess, that was sure. If that one mage hadn't aimed for the stairwell, we'd all've been ashes. But he was obviously not well trained, so we won. Lucky us.

I was bleeding from a bullet wound, although I wouldn't be feeling it for a while. Magic is useful sometimes. I staunched the wound as best I could. Enrique had a knife wound and Anthony had hit a wall in the free-for-all dodge out of the stairwell. The other one still standing checked his fallen compatriot and muttered something in Spanish. It sounded like a prayer. He looked up at Enrique and said one word. "Vengenza."

We headed on. There wasn't much left on this floor--it was unfinished. The only way to the next level was by ladder. We took it, the nameless one in the lead.

Sometimes, I wish I'd known his name. That way, when I called "Look out!" he might've heard me. We'd missed one of the mages; he wasn't quite dead. Damnit, with all the bodies, we hadn't bothered to check. It was a last-ditch effort on his part, and Enrique made sure he wasn't about to pull that trick ever again. But we were down to three, and it involved some nasty acrobatics to get us up the mauled ladder.

The top floor of the warehouse was almost as open as the fourth floor. There were no surprises waiting for us, only one man. Enrique muttered something unintelligible in Spanish, but I didn't need a translation. This was the big man himself, the one we'd lost so much trying to get to.

Damn, but he was impressive. A simple man with an air of command about him, I got the feeling most women would lay down at his feet. Most of the hookers I know would have given him a free ride, which is pretty heavy for them. He wasn't perfect, but he was damned close. If it hadn't been for the small prickling at the base of my skull screaming "nasty magic," I might have done something I would later regret. A prettier man had never graced my path, that's for sure - perfect long black hair in a ponytail, dark blue eyes, athletic build, the whole nine yards. Add in a black leather trench, gray shirt and black trousers, and you've got one smooth character.

But I wasn't looking for a date to the prom, and this man was dead, although he obviously hadn't figured that one out yet.

"You've made it pretty far for such a scraggly band," he said by way of greeting. His voice was as beautiful as his face, and more imposing.

"We had a bloody good reason to, you bastard," I replied civilly.

"Now what have I ever done to you, personally, Lady Lynx? You've proven yourself an adequate fighter. I have no quarrel with you."

"But you have quarrel with my father? With the homeless town?" Anthony interrupted. "You have a fine way of showing peace."

"Your father was a mistake. My people were...overzealous." He actually sounded apologetic. "They would have been corrected had they returned. As it happened, I had no part in their penance; Lady Lynx admirably solved that problem."

"Look, if you're such a good guy, why'd you take Spider? What have you done with her?" I asked to get his attention off Anthony.

"She is useful to me. She is of no use to you; you should thank me for taking her off your hands. Surely, you have more important things to worry about."

"If I had more important things to do, do you honestly think I'd be here right now?"

He didn't answer. I was getting seriously pissed. "I want to see Spider. What have you done with her?"

All of a sudden, he turned a stare on me that would have frozen the sun. "I have tried to be polite, to be civil, and you insist on insulting me. So be it. I will show you what I've done to your precious girlchild!"

There was a flurry of wind, and a haze appeared in the center of the room. It cleared out to reveal a room, with some sort of faint light illuminating Spider. There were demons in the room, torturing her, with knives and coals. One of them was getting ready to rape her. She was crying, and there was a haze above her - her visions were being torn from her.

It was too much. I launched myself through the image, knife drawn, to cut the life out of the dark man who was causing so much pain. Midway through the air, I realized he was gone. I managed to cut and roll up without cutting myself. The image faded - there was no one in the room but me, Enrique and Anthony.

"Damn you, Abyss!" I shouted to the air.

There was an echo of laughter in my head. "Do you think I'd really put myself within range of your knife?" His voice reverberated around the room. "I can destroy you before you had any idea I was not where I seemed."

With a scream, Enrique fell to his knees, clutching his head. "What have you done to him?" Anthony yelled, looking around wildly. "Come out and fight!" Then he was on the ground, too. Second round, Abyss’ point. The room faded from my view, to be replaced with a hall of mirrors.

"Come find me," Abyss' voice taunted. I ran down the hall, seeing myself on all sides. Everywhere I looked, there were more images of me. I kept seeing glimpses of Abyss, just ahead.

The hall ended, and turned. I was in a damned funhouse maze. I ran down the farther corridor, came to a junction. I took the left, and hit a dead-end. "Damn you!" I screamed.

I kept running, kept looking. Kept seeing myself.

I was damn near crying, so I stopped looking at the mirrors.

I looked up. More mirrors. The floor, too.

There were stairs, which I tripped over, not seeing them.

Up, down, left, right, forward, backwards.

All the time, Abyss's laughter echoed down the halls. Finally, I tripped and fell, landed sobbing the mirror floor.

"Give up?"

"You bastard! Never!" I pulled myself into a sitting position, closed my eyes. Tried to center. It wasn't working. I had to be in control of myself to get to him. Images of Spider's torture echoed in my skull, images of myself eternally running, and images of failure.

I got up, finally, despairing. I'd never get anywhere sitting still. I kept moving, moving, moving. Using my hands more as a guide than my eyes. The slick surface of the mirrors was cold as ice.

There had to be a key, an end to the maze. It couldn't be this complicated, this convoluted. I walked miles, I swear. I don't know how long I was in there, but it was hours. The laughter faded after a while, but not my despair.

When it hurt to walk another step, I ran for a while. I had no energy left - all my carefully prepared reserves were gone. I was absolutely lost. Finally, I came to a dead end and looked myself in the face.

I wasn't prepared for what I saw there. It was my face, but older, more haggard. It was the face of Momma Jez, of the streeters who made their lives here. I turned to my left - the face of my high-school days. To my right, a strong me in a corporate dress suit. I turned behind me, followed the passage back. Each was my face, each was me, some lost to the dreams, some still with dreams and still damned. None held any hope. None of them held any pride. Nothing but stubborn determination to go on.

I don't know why I looked at the mirrors so late. Maybe I should've looked at them earlier, but I was too crazy to notice. I followed myself down to another dead end, watched the mirror in front of me. It changed as I watched, falling further and further into everything I'd ever hated and despised.

As I watched, I realized something. This was what I was, what I would be. This was my future, if I stayed to the path I'd been leading. Until I found Spider, I had lost my hope. I had, even with the magic, lost most of my dreams. When I found Spider, I had something to wonder at, something to dream about.

And Abyss was going to take those away from her. Take that away from the world. What could Spider do, when she was old enough to act? I wondered. I thought, for the first time, about the possibilities of the future.

The mirror wavered. I almost didn't notice it. Suddenly, I wondered how Abyss had built this place, powered it. It would be an awful expenditure of energy. And where was it? How did he send me here?

It clicked. I am supremely stupid sometimes. He was pulling the same old trick, same as the gnawing worry earlier. None of this was real. It had to be mental. Abyss preyed on dreams. He played with people's minds.

"You shit-eating son of a bitch!" I muttered. "You can't do this to me!" I started pounding on the mirror. It shattered. I spun around, took out the ones on the sides, stomped the floor out, jumped and felt the glass rain down on me; the ceiling shattered. I ran down the hallway, breaking the mirrors as I went. "I won't let you do this to me!"

Slowly, slowly the mirrors lost solidity. The rain of glass faded from shards to drops, to nothing at all. I collapsed onto my knees, and when I opened my eyes, I was still in the warehouse. Anthony and Enrique were unconscious on the floor beside me.

I hated to leave them behind, but I also got the feeling they weren't gonna wake up until I did something about Abyss. I wondered if they'd gotten similar mindwarps to mine. I kinda doubted it.

One thing I was coming to realize - Abyss didn't just fight dirty, he fought in the mind. There was nothing stopping him from gutting me when he had the chance. I was willing to bet he didn't have the ability. He wasn't a physical fighter.

Third round, my point. I was.

I did a quick scan of my surroundings and myself. Me, I was doing fine. I wasn't anywhere near as drained as I'd been in the mirror maze. And the surroundings were the same - except for one thing. There was a stairwell at the other end of the building that I swear hadn't been there before, probably due to another of Abyss' illusions.

I sprinted for the stair, and down it. There were no doors anywhere. It went all the way from the top floor to belowground. Made sense, not to keep your ops out in the open. And with an illusion on that stairwell, no one'd ever know. Smart man, I had to admit. The door at the bottom was bolted, and probably barred. I took the easy way in; I removed the door. Melted the hinges, took a few steps back, and let it fall. Inside, there was more drug prep stuff and some desks that looked like they belonged in an accountant's office or something, and a door on the other side. I took that one out, too.

It took me a while, but I finally found him. I'll give him credit - he looked his death in the eye and didn't flinch. Maybe he had another trump card to play, I didn't know.

"Where's Spider?" Ice could have formed on my words, I was that mad.

"I'm impressed. You're smarter than I gave you credit for. And more tenacious."

"Where's Spider?" I repeated. There was the sound of guns behind me. I quickly turned, putting my back to the wall, so as not to lose sight of Abyss. There were two FlameRunners behind me, each holding a pistol pointed directly at me. "You can't think that'll stop me," I almost laughed.

"Oh, I don't." The two Flamers moved to either side, to admit two more, each similarly armed. But their guns were pointed not at me, but at Enrique and Anthony, who were standing rather dazed in their grasps. "Your choice, my dear. Save them, and you lose me. Take me out, and they both die."

"Damn you, bastard," I hissed. But the inkling of a plan was in my head.

"Well? Your choice, Lady Lynx."

I moved. It hurt like hell. I damn near split myself in two, but it worked. Don't ask me how. I'd never done anything like it before; I pulled on some reserve I never knew I had. I dove for Abyss, blade out, while sending a surge of energy to Anthony and Enrique to wake them up. They woke, saw the guns, and moved. Their captors weren't expecting them to wake up, and so went down quickly.

As for Abyss, he obviously wasn't expecting me to come flying at him. I missed him, 'cause he dove through the door behind him, but he was on the run. This was my kind of fight, finally. I caught up with him no problem. He put up a good fight, better than I expected. Somewhere, he'd found a knife. And he did know how to use it. He got me good in the arm, and I barely dodged a good gut-stab. As it was, my shirt and jacket were shreds. Good, now they matched my leg. But I got him. I felt the blades of my knives go into his gut and his arm. It was very satisfying. I let all my anger, all my pain, all my frustration go into the killing blow as I slit his throat. The emotionally charged, mage-enhanced blow was so powerful it was a visible glow. Abyss died without a sound.

When I could think again, I knew something had shifted. My brainwaves were doing strange things, as were my eyes. And my knife glowed rather seriously. I blinked, and found that the glow died a bit. I blinked again, and it brightened back up. I looked away. There was the stench of blood, and bright blue mage-energy was waving around a fading dark red energy. I blinked. The glows faded.

I shook my head, trying to wake up. What the hell had I done to myself? I heard Anthony call down the hallway.

"Marya? You okay?" It was the first time he'd ever called me by my given name. He sounded tired.

"I'm fine." I staggered to my feet, suddenly feeling all the wounds I'd received. Adrenaline was fading, now that my focus was gone. My headache came back. Suddenly, I was very tired. But we weren't finished yet. We still didn't have Spider.

I came back out into the main room. The four Flamers were dead, but Enrique had taken a bullet to the shoulder, and Anthony had apparently just removed a knife from his leg. He could walk, but moving Enrique would be interesting.

"Dead?" Enrique asked, holding his shoulder tightly.

"Yeah."

"Way to go, bruja!" He smiled, then grimaced in pain. "We won?"

"Still need to find Spider, but yes, I think we won."

"Cool."

"Hey, Marya? Can you...?" Anthony ventured, looking pointedly at Enrique.

"I don't know. I can probably stop the bleeding, but he needs a hospital. You do, too."

"And you don't?"

I ignored him, trying to help Enrique. Healing's not my fine point, but I can convince the body to do some things. Like not bleed to death. I blinked, trying to focus, and that bright-light vision came back. It was sure helpful to put the pressure in the right place. I finished, shook it off.

"You okay?" Anthony asked, seeing the pained look on my face. Helping Enrique did absolutely no help to my headache. I nodded.

"Get him to the hospital. I gotta find Spider." When Anthony started to protest, I said, "Go!"

They left. I followed the hall where Abyss' body lay, making a wide shift around him. I came to a two-way corridor.

"Damn, which way?" I muttered to myself, closing my eyes. I thought I heard something, faintly, to the left. I opened my eyes, and the glow was brighter, more familiar to the right. I followed the sound of Spider's passing past several doors, and finally stopped at one to my left. I heard crying inside.

I used my knife to pry off the lock, not having the energy to magic it open. Inside, Spider was laying, sobbing, on a bed. No demons, no cuts, no bruises. She was crying fit to tear a soul apart. It hurt me to hear it. Abyss had screwed with my mind with the demons, but he obviously had also been screwing with her mind. The lovely little girl who was scared of nothing now understood all too well the meaning of fear. I went in and sat down on the bed, gathered the little bit of nothing into my arms. She looked up in amazement, recognizing me; then she hugged me tighter than I would have thought possible for such a little thing.

I picked her up and walked out of there. Didn't stop to look at the corpse. Didn't stop for anything. There were cops outside, looking around. They hadn't gotten to the upper floors yet. I saw many Diablos on the warehouse floor, and many FlameRunners. I used the barest minimum of magic to make sure that we weren't spotted leaving the premises. Then I walked straight to the hospital, and collapsed.

Anna (Anthony's mother) vouched for me, I'm told. Signed me in, under her insurance; don't ask me how she managed it; I never would have thought she had insurance. Spider wouldn't leave my side until the doctors picked her up and took her out. I had to have the bullet taken out, and dozens of stitches in my arm, stomach and leg. Wonderful scars. There was a nasty cut on my face I'd never even noticed, which had to be stitched up too. I looked like Frankenstein. And every time I blinked I was seeing fuzzy light around everything. Hearing strange sounds, too, but those were easier to block.

Anthony was lucky; he only needed some minor stitches and a wrap for his head. He had a bit of a concussion. Enrique was worse off -- 'bout and inch lower, and that bullet would have hit a lung. And he needed stitches for a knife wound. The doctors never did figure out how he made it to the hospital alive. Of course, they knew immediately where we'd come from. There were five Diablos and half a dozen Flamers come in earlier. The docs never quite understood how I managed to get involved either, or what Spider had to do with anything. They kept quiet; it was part of street life.

I was in the hospital overnight; Anna sent Anthony and Spider to get some of my stuff. Mainly, I think, to get Spider out of the way for a while. They brought back the clothes I'd worn earlier and some of my other things, like my bag. Anthony told me that the cops were checking the warehouse soon, and he'd gotten some of his friends (probably not Diablos, but I bet some of their girlfriends) to get all the important stuff out. Don't ask me how they managed my little security system. Anna said it could stay with her.

That night, the Cat Man came in, and made a ruckus until they let him in to see me (without his cats, of course). He gave Shadow back to Spider (both of whom were immediately shooed out of the patient area. I think Spider spent the night with Anna in the lounge) and we talked for a long time. It was a lot of stuff that isn't really important to anyone but me, but I felt a lot better after that. The staff kicked him out after a while. The next morning, Ethan came in and apologized. I was glad he wasn't mad at me anymore, especially after what happened to his store. I bet Anthony and Anna talked him into it, though.

I got out of there as soon as they'd let me leave. Spider had come in as soon as the sun was up, and she was trilling and humming quite happily, if a little more nervously than before. Anna had gotten her back into the clothes she'd been wearing when I found her, and she'd gotten a bath. The pictures her music brought up had lost their tinges of Sight somewhere along the line, but I was glad to hear her communicating again. It wasn't until I was dressed that I realized the fuzzy light's I'd been seeing every other blink were controllable. Not only that, but my brain functions must have been on negative twenty the night before, 'cause I figured out where I’d known it. It was the Sight from Spider's visions. Somehow, that last-ditch attempt to save us, I split my brainwaves in such a way that they went back together with an added bonus. I now had some clairsentience, kind of like Ethan's Sight. It was something I'd never thought possible.

But I had other things to worry about. Ethan, Anna and Anthony were staying with family. My crash was out of the question. What were Spider and I gonna do? I was gonna have to start over, and I'd be willing to bet that it would be easier without Spider.

I remembered the business card that social worker had given me. It was still in my back pocket. Maybe it'd have a phone number on it. She did seem nice. I pulled out the card to look at it.

It was a simple card, with no fancy logos or anything. It read:

Sharon Thacter
Dept. of Social Services
(713) 555-2571

Below that, there was a line of text that must've cost a bundle, 'cause it was only visible to Sight. Even the small bit I had before could've shown it, but a mundane would never see it. It read:

Affiliated, Kaelmoneo Corp, Dreams Inc.

Sometimes I'm so dumb I could hit myself, y'know that? (And yes, I know I've said that a lot)

In case you don't know (and I'd like to know what rock you were hiding under 'cause everyone knows the Kaelmoneo Corp.), the Corp is one of them big mega-somethings that no one quite knows what they do. Actually, they're big into research and development. They do weird things like electrical cars and organic vegetables. The "Dreams, Inc." program is a charity that helps underprivileged kids find ways of succeeding in life, or gives sick kids their biggest wish. They do lotsa scholarships, lotsa hospital funding, that sort of thing.

What most people don't know is that the Corp is big into magic. Like their CEO is a witch. Not the religion, the magic kind. Like Halloween, but with no warts or green skin. The "Dreams" program grabs up a lot of mage-talented kids and helps them when it can. Not all of them, obviously, but as many as they can find. The Corp is big into preserving the magic in the world.

So there you have it. The perfect place to take Spider, and none of this mess would've happened if I'd looked at the card before leaving Social Services yesterday.

I gave Ms. Thacter a call. She was glad to hear from me, and agreed to help with Spider. She really is a nice lady. She met me at the hospital (I didn't really want her driving into the area where my stuff was. It was closer), and was kinda surprised at my condition. I told her the whole story, and she told me that she could find a place, no problem.

She also offered to get me off the streets. I almost refused. After all, the streets are my home now. But I thought about the mirrors, and the faces. And I agreed. With one condition - that she let me do it my way.

That was six months ago; the whole bloody thing took less than three days. Spider's with a family somewhere. (I was really sad to lose her, and she almost didn't let me go when Sharon took her) I have visitation rights or something; I'm gonna see her on Saturday.

I'm not on the streets anymore, sort of. I'm still busking most days, but Sharon got me fixed up with an apartment and an internship with the Corp, couple hours a week with good money. I've got my license, and I'm saving up for a car. She also got Ethan, Anna and Anthony a deal on a place nearby, with a new job for Ethan. Anthony's in school again, college this time. He qualified for "Dreams, Inc." help, even as a non-mage.

I still see the Cat Man every week. Enrique, too. I think he's got a crush on me, actually, but I'm not his type. He's well healed, and his dreaming is quite broad now, since he knows that there is such a thing as a bruja for real.

I talked to Sharon last week, for the first time in a long while. She was trying to set up my visit with Spider. She told me that Spider's new family has got her talking, and that she told them her name finally. Nobody knows where she came from, including Spider. I have my suspicions. It seems my little spider's really called Aubrey. Aubrey Orenda Simeon, in fact. Sharon told me that translates to "Elf-ruler with magic power, the one who hears." Sounds like my Spider.