Darkstone Secret Agent: Episode 4: Unexpected Complications

Episode 4: 

Unexpected Complications

Angela Hastings had managed to trip no less than three times, and that had been before her date with Ethan even started. She sat at home staring into her Ben and Jerry's knowing full and well that Ethan's promise to call her would never happen. No man ever called when they said they would. It was probably some unwritten male law of the universe, or something.

Gorgeous hunky men never took an interest in her. The only men who found her charming were either gay or currently pursuing other women.

She glanced down at her cat and made a face. "What's wrong with me Chipmunk? I'm a relatively attractive single professional woman. I don't smell, have bad breath or scratch in improper places. Tell me the truth," she said as she stared into the cat's bright eyes. "Do I have a sign on me that says ‘BEWARE! DANGEROUS COMMITMENT AHEAD?'"

Angela shook her head and sighed heavily. "Maybe I should enter a convent. At least I know God wouldn't reject me." She jammed an Oreo cookie into the quickly melting chocolate ice cream and scooped up some of its velvety goodness. She looked at the sugary confection and sighed again. "Not as good as mind-blowing sex, but it will just have to do."

***

Ethan Fairchild's date with suspect number one was less than enthralling. It wasn't that Angela Hastings wasn't captivating. She certainly was in that quirky, accident-prone, endearing way she had. But she wasn't his rogue agent. He knew that almost from the beginning, and he wondered why Gia even suspected her. No one could be that clueless on purpose.

He knew Angela was waiting for a second invitation, but Ethan had a mission to attend to.

After he dropped her off at her apartment, Ethan made himself comfortable in a bar called the Rathskeller. A bar known for its television personalities. He wasn't quite ready to turn in for the night and thus far he had had a hard time getting in touch with his controller, Jeffrey.

***

A knock at the door came unexpected. Angela had only eaten a quarter of the pint of ice cream and she wasn't yet halfway contented or comforted.

"Go away!" she grumbled. "I'm not quite depressed enough yet."

The knocking didn't stop, it only persisted. "I know you're in there, Angela. Your car is out front."

She recognized the voice immediately, but that didn't mean she had to let him in. Angela had to be the only woman in the known universe who would turn down attention from the world's hottest actor.

"That shows what you know," she shouted back. "That car isn't even mine."

Chance Michaels shifted from foot to foot. He was used to attention from his female following but there was something eerie about Angela's neighbor who leered at him from across the street.

"Come on, Angela! Cut a guy a break. That old lady is eyeing me again."

Angela marched over and thrust open the door. "Don't even bother to say it," she said, waving a spoon filled with ice cream at him.

"Date with the mystery man didn't go quite as planned, I take it?" Chance pushed past her and walked into the multi-level house. The neighbors weren't as surprised to see him as they used to be. But the grand motherly woman across the way still brought out her binoculars every time Chance was visiting.

"So, what brings you to my humble abode? Come to gloat about your fab sex life with Miss Rachel?"

"Rachel and I only have a sex life in my dreams."

Angela tried not to chuckle but she found both their situations amazingly funny. Chance couldn't score with the woman he wanted and Angela didn't have a chance in hell with Ethan.

Chance hooked a questioning eyebrow upward.

"I don't find this even a little bit funny."

Angela handed him the remaining ice cream and plopped down on the sofa. "We're both such losers."

***

Ethan fingered the signet ring on his right hand. He had worn it since his employment at the Legacy. Maybe even before. It was a gift from his father.

Now, suddenly, the skin around where the ring touched was red and irritated. Ever since he'd been exposed to those damn nanites, his life had been hell.

He couldn't sleep more than a few hours a night. His hearing had sharpened as had his eye sight. But that didn't make up for the nightmares. Whatever those little mini machines were doing in his blood, they were damn well wreaking havoc. But the nightmares were the worst part. In the nightmares he watched helplessly as his body didn't respond to his inner commands. Innocent people died, and he betrayed every moral value he possessed. A few more nights of this and he knew he would certainly go insane.

Lee Myers, the man who saved his life only months ago, had made arrangements for him to take his ATP energy treatments in Hollywood while he was on assignment. It surprised him that the movie capital of the world would have such devices. From the way Myers talked, ATP energy was pretty hard to come by. He was looking forward to the day when the treatments ended and the nightmares disappeared as magically as they had started.

The bar he had retired to was dark and smoky and filled with disreputable men and woman. Just the way he liked them. It reminded him of the Wolf's Den in a very Burbank sort of way. Maybe tonight he could find some sexual distraction to keep sleep from claiming him. Tonight, he didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to feel. He just wanted a hot and willing body under him to keep him occupied for a few hours.

Ethan knew what hell was. Hell was a place where you never slept and where the only sounds were the screams of tortured victims. He'd been hearing the screams and seeing the tormented in his mind's eye. And he couldn't wipe the images away.

A woman approached him, exactly the type of prospect he was looking for. She shimmied up to the bar barely wearing a red dress that matched her hair. Her eyes slowly scanned the crowd as if she was looking for someone. An easy smile spread across his face. He could be anyone she wanted him to be. Anyone at all.

Her eyes landed on him taking in his disheveled hair that now was almost too long. It curled up just above his shoulders. His feet were covered in snake skin boots and his legs packed into a pair of slim-fitting 501 Blues. Aside from the 5 o'clock shadow and the hair, he was perfectly presentable. Her long perusal of him seemed to say she was in agreement with his conclusions.

Her auburn hair gleamed, and from a distance, for a split-second, the woman almost looked like Gia, only this lady looked like Gia with a soul. But he wasn't kidding himself. There was no one else like the ice woman.

Ethan was so entranced by the woman's obvious charms, he failed to notice when the real Gia Doyle walked into the very same establishment. She pushed by the auburn haired lady and headed straight for Ethan. Her back was ram rod straight and her eyes spit fire. She was angry. What else was new?

"What happened to the body?" Gia spit at him.

"Nice to see you too, boss lady."

Gia leaned down and blew a puff of smoke into his face from the cigarette that must have been surgically implanted in her hand. He never saw her without one. Her voice lowered but the venom was still evident. "Don't play with me, Fairchild. Where is the body?"

"Body?" Ethan tried not to smile, but he actually didn't know which body she was referring to.

"The guy from the television show that you found on the set a few days back. That body."

Finally, the picture became clearer. Even through his sleep deprived brain he could remember what happened to Carter Wayne.

"You're asking me? As far as I know the clean up team took him away. Since when are you so concerned about someone like Carter Wayne? I've heard you call such nuisances trash."

"This nuisance is a different animal all together. We need him back."

Ethan eyed Gia suspiciously. Back? They needed Carter Wayne back? What in the hell was really going on here?

Her eyes darkened and turned icy. She had a spooky way of almost reading his mind sometimes. Today was no different.

"I'm just checking every detail. We need to make certain Carter Wayne isn't the rogue spy."

Ethan watched her walk away, thrusting people out of her way as she went by. He had a feeling there was more to Carter Wayne than anyone was telling him.

***

Back at Legacy Headquarters.

"We have a problem."

Philip Lancaster was surprised to hear the stodgy old voice address him. It had been a very long time since one of the High Council contacted him directly.

"I did as you instructed, sir." Philip said, trying like hell to maintain a subtle calm he wasn't feeling. "I had Franklin Fairchild jailed and placed in the Legacy dungeon."

"Apparently, Lancaster, that wasn't adequate enough. Another Fairchild has become a security risk." Philip's eyes grew wide. He knew the implications of what Bishop was saying. "Either the signet ring we gave him is defective or the nanites coursing through his blood has disrupted the ring's effectiveness."

"What do you want me to do, sir? I mean, Mr. Bishop."

"I want you to deal with our problem. If he starts remembering his alternate assignments, the Legacy's very identity could be in jeopardy. Either repair the ring or –"

"Kill him?" Philip added with a gulp.

"You catch on quickly, Lancaster."

"But Mr. Bishop, he's our best agent... He's done so much for us..." Philip wasn't looking forward to trying to kill the best of the best. He knew it could pose a big problem.

"You do understand me, don't you, Lancaster? If he becomes a glitch to the very success of our organization, terminate him! That is an order."

"Yes, Mr. Bishop. As you wish, sir."

Philip returned the receiver to its cradle, his hand visibly shaking. God, he couldn't believe it. Kill Ethan Fairchild? Ethan had been their best assassin, even if he didn't remember the true nature of his assignments.

Philip's voice quivered with emotion as he called for Bobbie Sullivan. Bobbie had quickly taken over for Jeffrey Sogard after the young controller's sudden death a few weeks back.

"Get me Dr. Lee Myers on the tele. Then find a way to contact Solitaire. We might have one more freelance assignment for her."

Bobbie nodded. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

It was the dawn of a new day at the Legacy. Why did Philip feel like it was the beginning of the end?

***

Franklin Fairchild couldn't believe he had allowed it to go on for so long. That they all had allowed it. The Legacy might have been ultimately responsible for the deeds, but he and Harry and Nathan had let them do it. In the beginning, over thirty-six years ago now, it seemed like such a far-fetched notion. A strange dream. Create the perfect mercenary. The perfect operative.

The perfect assassin was someone who didn't know they were an assassin.

At first, he had done it because it was his job. Later, he had justified staying because they needed members of the resistance inside the Legacy. He knew it might take years to bring them (the High Council) down, and the sacrifices would be worth it. But somehow all those children's lives had gotten lost in the shuffle.

Just one more day, he would think. One more day and then it would all be over. But for the Lost Children, it was never over. One more day for them meant more long hours of treatments, mind-therapy and weapons training. Things they would never remember once they reached home. But things they could recall once programmed to do so.

For years it had terrified him that someone could take over their minds without their permission. He would look across the dinner table at Ethan, Ian, Kevin and Faith's innocent faces and wonder if today was the day one of them would rise up, aim a gun at him and kill him as he ate dessert.

It was a horrible way to live – wondering if your next meal was your last. He regarded the steel bars of his cell and knew sooner or later he would be terminated. The only thing he wondered now was – why had they kept him alive so long?

***

Back in Hollywood

"So tell me about this hunka hunka burning love who dumped you tonight."

Angela blushed and turned her head away from Chance. "What's to tell? I met him on the train. He seemed nice. But he blew me off. He practically left the restaurant before I was even finished eating. I mean, right after I..." Angela stopped. She didn't know if she wanted to tell him the embarrassing parts of the ruined date.

"Let me guess. You went to that new Italian restaurant? The one with the awkward steps that shoot down unexpectedly?"

"How did you..." This time Angela did blush. Chance knew what a klutz she was, but she didn't like reminding him, or herself.

"Fell flat on your face, did you?" Chance tried to hold in his chuckle.

"More like fell flat on my butt and spit my new dress up the seam. I'm surprised Ethan even came over and admitted I was his date."

Chance's expression grew concerned.

"Ethan? That was your date's name?"

Angela looked at Chance quizzically. "Yeah, Ethan Fairchild. He mentioned he knew you when you were kids. He even told me this funny story about his brother, Kevin, and your sister, Sabrina."

Chance stood, knocking over a few of the handmade journals Angela was fond of creating.

"I have to go, but whatever you do, don't let Ethan in here. If he comes by and tries to let himself in, call the police."

He ran to the door opening it with a jerk. He could tell Angela wasn't taking him seriously.

"I'm not kidding, Angela. Ethan is a dangerous man. Don't ever let him near you again."

Angela had never seen Chance so agitated. He was indeed deathly serious.

"Okay, okay. I'll call the police. I will."

Chance then left in a rush. She wondered what Ethan had done to make her friend so concerned. Well, it didn't matter anyway. It wasn't like the date went well. Maybe all those accidental prat falls were a good omen. But the thoughts rushing through her head didn't make her worry any less. She just hoped the man stayed away.

***

Solitaire brushed a stray auburn hair behind her ear and listened on her cell phone as an image was transmitted to her PDA device. The man's photo was familiar. She glanced over her shoulder to the man she had been eyeing earlier with the snake skin boots and the chocolate eyes. It was too bad. It was just too bad. He matched the description of her new assignment. She sighed.

But that didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun with him first.

Ethan was on his third tequila and having a wonderful time when all activity at the bar ceased. The woman in the barely there red dress was provocatively dancing. All the men in her general vicinity had their mouths hanging open. He didn't know what in the hell she was doing, but he had a game of pool only half finished. Pool was the only game Kevin consistently beat him at. While he was here, he planned to brush up on his technique and show the little squirt that big brothers always win.

He was angling to sink his last stripe when someone picked up his cue ball off the table. It was the woman with the dress. She was tall with straight hair down to her shoulders and a body to die for. At first glance, as before, she reminded him of Gia, but upon closer inspection, he discovered this woman definitely knew how to smile.

"Hi ya, handsome," she said in a slow seductive voice. "Wanna play?"

Ethan gulped then smiled. Maybe he was going to get some sexual satisfaction after all.

Darkstone Secret Agent: Episode 3: Ghost of a Chance

Episode 3: 

Ghost of a Chance

As soon as the director yelled, "Action!" Chance Michaels was in his element. Playing super spy Nico Knight on primetime's hottest drama did as much for his ego as it did for his pocketbook.

A year after filming began, Chance found out his wife, August Rae, was having an affair. And like in Hollywood gossip rags, this affair was a shocker. Not surprisingly, the press ate it up like children scarffed up chocolate pudding or ice cream.

He had always heard about losing your wife to another woman, but usually that was restricted to television pilots and people who lived in San Francisco or L.A., not real life and certainly not in his real world. Chance found out the hard way that sometimes fiction reflects reality with an all too mind blowing reality. So, to find out that his wife was busy getting it on with a female studio executive, was more than a shocker. It was a blow to his masculinity.

About the time August Rae became his ex-wife, she also became his new boss. Life was funny that way. Just when your life seems to be going down a different road, a crossroads comes your way and suddenly you find yourself traveling down the same path again. It was just so unfair.

August was now not only the new head writer, but one of the executive producers. Chance figured this was his payback for letting August Rae's needs go unfulfilled for so long. Not that he could have actually fulfilled her needs considering she had been a closet lesbian for so long. He wondered if her sister and his co-worker, Rachel Demarco knew about August Rae's coming out. But if she didn't know, he wouldn't be surprised. Rachel and August had never been close. Rachel had always been the one to overshadow her sister's success with even more of her own. It wasn't that Rachel rubbed August Rae's face in her overwhelming vocational happiness, she just came by it more naturally than August Rae did. And being the co-star with him in Darkstone: Secret Agent was just one more slap in August Rae's face.

He assumed this was the main reason why August campaigned so strongly for the head writer position. If she couldn't get Rachel to do what she wanted, the only way to effectively 'beat her' was to literally put words into her mouth. Now August Rae held all the power and there was nothing he or Rachel could do about it.

Where August Rae was overbearing, mouthy and angry, Rachel was soft, sensuous and womanly sensitive. If it hadn't been for Rachel and her constant advice and TLC, Chance was sure he would have gone truly insane with August's many plots to ruin him. Rachel offered him her friendship and help in a time when catastrophe seemed to define his life.

Things had finally semi settled down, and Chance was ready to put himself out there again emotionally. The divorce had garnered a lot of publicity and his own sort of inner searching. He hated every minute he was under the media's microscope, but to the studio bad publicity was still publicity. Free publicity. And they milked it for all it was worth even leaking information about his and Rachel's friendship making it seem like it was more than it was.

Not that he didn't want there to be more, he did. In fact, he was already half in love with Rachel Demarco. But the closer he and Rachel became the more overtly demanding August Rae would make his and Rachel's life. It got so bad at one point August Rae tried to kill off Rachel's ever popular character, Cyn Sanders. But the studio would have none of that. The hotter their personal life became in the tabloids, the higher the ratings skyrocketed. So, August Rae had to live with the fact that she couldn't ruin her sister's life by taking away the job that she loved.

Chance was certain that August would find a way to make Rachel's life miserable. The only question was, how would she do it?

***

Meanwhile, not far from the studio, Gia Doyle and her team of agents swept the area looking for runaway computer hacker, Dexter Vargas. Finding the body of Jeffrey Sogard lying in a pool of his own blood made Gia want to pop the head off of the pesky nerd who had the gall to call himself Jeffrey's best friend. Dexter and Jeffrey had come up with an amazing technology called Wayback. It was time travel at its best. But now that device had been lost along with the whereabouts of Dexter, things around headquarters were becoming more and more dubious.

The doctors had yet to figure out what killed Jeffrey. But signs were pointing to some sort of mutant virus. If they didn't find Dexter in time and he too had contracted the virus as Jeffrey had -- they would be in for an epidemic even the best scientists wouldn't know how to cure.

The biggest problem was – Gia didn't know how to tell Ethan about Jeffrey. The kid was a genius, but Ethan was his hero and because of that bond the two of them had grown close over the years.

"If you don't find that little twirp, your life, as you know it, is over!" Gia was not known as a patient woman. And losing Vargas and a contraption worth a cool mint to the American government didn't make her any less testy.

Her chestnut hair glinted reddish fiery streaks almost as volcanic as her piercing eyes. Gia ordered the agents around with a natural authority. When Gia talked, people jumped.

She nearly lost her carefully capped cool when she found some of her agents gawking at bikini clad starlets near the studio entrance.

"Did you not hear me the first time?" she bit out. "Find me Vargas and find me that damn machine. NOW!!!"

Agents scurried in all directions. There was something to be said for seasoned agents who actually had a clue what they were doing. Why was she being tormented by all the greenhorns? She let out an exasperated sigh and headed towards the television studio lot. She hoped she found Vargas before the rogue IEA agent did. If the rogue found the computer hacker first and discovered how valuable the technology was that he carried, Dexter would definitely be dead, virus or no virus. And then another fool could go traipsing through time screwing up things for them all.

***

Dexter Vargas didn't know what to do next. Everything was in jeopardy. If the rogue spy found the Wayback device, time as they knew it would belong to the evil ones of the universe. But he didn't want Gia and the Legacy anywhere near the device either. He didn't want to put time travel in the hands of questionable people with even more questionable morals. Jeffrey Sogard had been the only one he could trust with such technology and now he was dead. Dexter wasn't completely sure if the virus was an after effect of time travel. Maybe Jeffrey had time traveled with a cold during one of their experiments, and then the cold mutated into something more awful than either of them ever imagined.

Sweat dripped from his head. Dexter had somehow also contracted the virus, but he didn't have time to find out how or go and get it treated. He needed to hide the Wayback device. A spasm racked his brain with a pain so severe he felt like dying was the only cure to take away his torment. He had never encountered such a headache before. But he couldn't worry about his poor state of health. He had to keep the Wayback device safe.

As he scurried like a rat through the maze of cars in the parking lot of Avatar Studios, he clutched the wristband-like device with a steel-like grip. He frantically glanced in all directions, his paranoia mounting. He stumbled into an area where trailers lined the outside of one of the sound stages. He'd finally made it. The Darkstone: Secret Agent set. If there was anywhere to hide such a high tech device, it was amidst other similar devices. That way, he could hide the machine in plain sight and come back for it at a safer juncture.

His luck was holding out. One of the doors in one of the trailers was open. This was his best opportunity to secure the device in a safe location.

He carefully climbed into the trailer. Spasms still flooded his brain and the pain was still unbearable but he had to complete his mission. Every movement was a subtle type of torture. He needed to be in a bed back in the hospital, but he had to finish what he had started. He had to keep the device safe so eventually he could go back and make sure Jeffrey never contracted the virus in the first place.

The trailer was smaller than it looked. The only thing out of place was a script with green fluorescent swashes accenting particular lines in a scene. As he gazed at it closer, he realized that every dialogue bit in green belonged to the actress who portrayed Cyn Sanders, director of the make-believe covert agency, AIDE.

Dexter couldn't laugh at the irony. Not only was the rogue spy trying to get the device, he was sure the female director of the Legacy was somewhere out there not far behind him. Here he was in the trailer of someone who could be considered Gia's television alter-ego, and Dexter was about to leave a priceless treasure among her things.

He wished he knew for sure if he could trust Gia, but he didn't know if he could fully trust her or anyone at the Legacy. That's why he fled the confines of the hospital earlier in the day. He couldn't let anyone get their hands on the device. A device that could potentially be used for an evil destructive end.

He placed the wristband-like device on the counter top next to a similar one used by the fictional spies of AIDE. It could be weeks before anyone noticed it so far back on the counter behind the sugar decanter. By then, he hoped he was fit enough to come back and retrieve it.

Another spasm racked his body and this time the force of it sent Dexter to the floor. He put his hand to his head and felt something thicker than sweat pooled there. When he pulled his hand back, he realized it was blood.

"NO!" he cried. "Not yet! I'm not ready to go yet."

He barely heard the gasp from behind him. As he turned to view the person behind the gasp, he lost his balance and fell to the floor. He looked up at her from the floor where it was much more comfortable and he realized how much she did indeed look like Gia Doyle. The same chestnut hair straight to her shoulders. The same concerned line between her brows.

The woman, Rachel Demarco held a towel tightly around her breasts and grabbed for a baseball bat hidden on the other side of the refrigerator. She threatened to beat him within an inch of his life, but her threats didn't seem too alarming since he could barely hear them. Her voice faded and then sounded very far away. Suddenly, he could hear nothing at all.

Rachel Demarco could feel her heart beating a mile a minute in her chest. At first the man who had infiltrated her trailer seemed sully and intimidating but now he looked more like the boy he was. He seemed to be unconscious now. She leaned down to feel for the pulse in his neck but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Touching him seemed like the wrong thing to do. Her mind ran in a million directions as she reached for the cordless phone near the bathroom door. She fumbled with it to call 911.

When the operator answered, Rachel saw the blood pooling around the fallen boy's head. Her scream was ear piercing. "Oh, my God!" she cried into the receiver. "I think he's dead!"

Darkstone Secret Agent: Episode 1-2

Mission: Darkstone

Prologue, Episode One and Two

by Toni Walker

Prologue

The life of a spy was indeed a strange one.

In what other occupation could you go from the wilds of Bulgaria, to the foggy streets of London and end up in the concrete jungle that is Hollywood?

When Ethan Fairchild finally stepped onto the studio lot after finding a creative entrance, he found each building was a muted shade of death. The color seemed to washout everything around it, even any feeling people surrounding the building might be experiencing. It was exactly like a black hole in outer space, except this black hole was tan. It was a rather numbing sensation to take in.

Finding a dark corner, on the sunny lot wasn't easy. Luckily, the Darkstone set was filled with such niches. Ethan placed a call to his Legacy contact and awaited a response.

"This is hell," he said, once his superior, Gia Doyle came online. His PDA displayed her image to crisp perfection. "You've sent me to hell. I always knew you'd find a way to get me back for Amsterdam."

Gia chuckled at the memory. He deserved to be tortured for Amsterdam, but that wasn't the reason he was in Hollywood. It hadn't been her intention to send him to hell, but subconsciously she knew she wanted payback. For now, she'd let him stew in the fire with Satan.

"It can't be that bad," Gia said, sharply. "You're a trained operative. It's not like I"m sending you into the middle of a war."

"Speak for yourself." Ethan observed actors of all shapes and sizes as they paraded around the lot in the most bizarre costumes. "This makes Carnival look like a cake walk."

"You should be in heaven. After all, aren't all the women blonde, skinny and brain dead? Sounds like a recipe for your favorite date." Gia couldn't help but throw in the slam.

"She could hear the catch in his breath even through the small, souped-up spy gadget that resembled a PDA.

"They are not," he said in defense of women everywhere. "Some of them are brunette."

Even he laughed at that one.

"Well, hot shot. If you can control your sexual urges long enough to focus on this mission, you could be back in the land of fog in little over a week."

"What am I looking for?" Ethan asked, suddenly serious.

"Anything out of the ordinary. We accidently intercepted a burst transmission during one of Darkstone's broadcasts."

"I thought those types of spy tactics went out with the dark ages."

"Apparently, not. We've got the most advanced equipment and even we almost missed it. If it hadn't been for Sogard's obsession with that damn spy television show, I doubt we would have put two and two together." Gia's face left the small screen for a moment. "We have no names, but we do know this particular spy has gone rogue. He or she was working for the International Espionage Agency. And you know how they work. No one knows the identity of any of the agents."

"So, track down the rogue spy and foil their mission?"

"That about sums it up. Jeffrey will have the dossiers on each member of the Darkstone staff that is suspected. So far, the most likely candidate is web designer, Angela Hastings. During a routine sweep we found a microdot embedded in one of her handmade journals. You're mission..."

"Should I choose to accept it?" Ethan said, playfully.

"Is to find the rogue IEA agent and bring him or her down by any means necessary. If any more information gets released via the television show, we don't know what the president will do."

Gia's image disappeared from the PDA and he placed the computer device into his pocket. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted what appeared to be a scuffle between two people. One was a large man he had already identified as Carter Wayne. The other person was obscured by the large trash dumpsters separating them.

Ethan ran to intercept, but by the time he arrived on scene, the perp was long gone. What lay left behind was a crumpled Carter Wayne lying among piles of black trash bags.

"Well, Fairchild," he said to himself. "I think you've found your something out of the ordinary.

He checked the man for a pulse. Thready, but still there.

"Looks like the game is afoot."

Ethan placed an anonymous call to 911.

Episode 1

She wasn't expecting to see him, especially not this close, mere inches away.

Who was he?

For two weeks, Angela Hastings had watched him, gazing at him like some star-struck teenager mooning over this week's hottest teen heartthrob. She was far from the groupie type. In fact, the entire time she had been working as web designer for the television series, Darkstone: Secret Agent, she hadn't once felt attracted to any member of the cast.

So then, what was she doing fantasizing over this unassuming mystery man on the train?

It would have been easier to be attracted to Darkstone star, Chance Michaels. At least, he she knew. But when had Angela ever taken the easy road?

Today, he was closer to her than he had ever been. All she could remember was the sudden connection she felt and strange way her breath had literally been taken away by the sight of him. She thought such things only happened in the movies and books.

How wrong she had been.

It wasn't as if she had done anything to draw his attention. She didn't even know he was on the train until he was suddenly there. She looked up. He looked up. And bam, connection time.

Angela couldn't say exactly what it was that attracted her to this mystery man. Why did he draw her attention like the south end to the north end of a magnet? Were they unconsciously seeking each other out in some cosmic way? She had never believed in such things, but certain circumstances were beginning to make her wonder.

When his eyes rested on her face and fully took in her features, she could see recognition light his eyes. Did he wonder about her in the same way she wondered about him? There had to be a reason for this almost unearthly attraction. Or maybe Angela had blown this all up in her mind into some obsessive fantasy. She wouldn't put it past herself. She was the dreamer of the family, after all.

Angela had never been one to moon over the looks or body of a man, but there was something different about him. Something that drew her on a carnal level, a level not seen by the human eye.

But she knew nothing would ever happen between them. First off, she was painfully shy around men. And secondly, last week she had spied a wedding band on his finger. It figured he was married. The only man she had ever really been attracted to at first sight and he wasn't even on the market.

It just damn figured!

The "cute man on the train," as she had come to refer to him, passed by that day and said nothing, and she had stupidly kept her trap clapped as well. When you didn't put yourself out there, you didn't get burned. But she knew if eyes could speak, his were saying something to hers. A minute later, he was gone and it seemed the incident had never occurred or was only a figment of her fertile imagination.

"That was him, wasn't it?"

Angela spun around to find her friend, Janey, from work, standing behind her. When had she gotten on the train, Angela wondered.

"Him?" Angela couldn't remember ever telling Janey about the "cute guy on the train."

"Your mystery man. The one who always eyes you. That was him, in the red jacket, wasn't it?" Janey was more observant than Angela had ever given her credit for, but Janey was one of the biggest contributors to the office grapevine. Next to her Jack Richards, the make-up artist paled in comparison.

"Yes," she admitted. "That was him. But... how did you know?"

"Oh, honey," she said, in her candy-coated southern drawl. "That had to be him. The air practically crackled between you when he walked by. And my, my, my! He had no trouble at all zeroing in on you. It was like watching a ballet. He looked up and saw you. Then almost as if you sensed him, your head jerked around."

Janey sighed.

"I tell you, it's kismet. The two of you are meant to be."

Angela couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe you better tell that to his wife. If you hadn't noticed, he's wearing a wedding ring. That means off limits."

"Oh, pooh!" Janey's bottom lip jutted out. "That could only be a ruse ring. I'm going to find out for sure."

While Angela was still contemplating what a ruse ring was, Janey disappeared, enveloped by the commuters on the train, and headed in the same direction as her mystery man.

"Wait!" Angela cried. "Janey, no!"

***

It wasn't hard following Angela Hastings around. Ethan Fairchild tried to blend into the mish-mash of passengers on the train, but Angela's eyes always invariably sought him out. As if, she somehow knew he was observing her.

While trying to keep his eye on her, Ethan found himself distracted by a bevy of women who were throwing themselves at him. He wasn't doing anything to attract their attention. In fact, he dressed in a casual way, to give them impression he was a man who didn't have a care in the world, or a job for that matter. Still, they clung to him like cheap aftershave.

In usual circumstances, he would take advantage of such a compelling opportunity, but today, he had a mission to attend to. His physical needs would have to be put on hold for awhile.

Having the female passengers hit on him was a distraction he didn't need. That's why a week ago he purchased a simple gold band to throw them all off the scent. That tactic alone seemed to keep most of them at bay.

He thought he was having good luck with his woman detractor device until a petite red-head bounced his way. She had more spring in her step than she did in her curls which cork screwed around her face like a demented mop.

She came straight up to him without reservation.

"There you are," she said, with a sigh. "Did you know you are one hard person to locate?"

Now, there was an interesting question to ask an international spy. Ethan wondered if he would have to take the woman out in order to remain on his current mission.

"No," he said, simply. "I hadn't noticed that."

"Well, you are. I'm Janey, by the way. Janey Harris."

She thrust her hand at him and Ethan carefully stepped away. Sometimes the most unassuming person could be the most deadly. Ethan ignored her extended hand and nodded a greeting to her.

Janey's mouth turned into a frown. "Aren't you going to tell me your name? It's only polite."

"No, I wasn't planning on it." Ethan eyed his escape route carefully considering if he might have to use it.

Janey grumbled and gave Ethan the evil eye, at least, what she thought was the evil eye. The attempt failed making her look like her eye was nervously twitching.

"So the mystery man wants to remain mysterious? I can respect that."

Why did Ethan have a feeling he wouldn't like what was coming?

"If you're interested," she said, slyly. "I have a proposition for you."

Episode 2

"Perfect. That's perfect." Ethan watched through Jeffrey's computer monitor as Gia Doyle, their superior, paced back and forth in her office in London. "Get close to her. She's our first link. You can use this to insinuate yourself into the situation. Become her boyfriend. It's absolute perfection."

Jeffrey glanced nervously at Ethan and then toward the monitor where Gia's image was displayed. "That tactic is good," he said, looking to Ethan for conformation. "But I still think it would be better to go in as one of the actors. Now that Carter Wayne is in the hospital in a coma, he'll be out of commission for awhile. They'll need someone to take his place."

"Good. That's good too. We'll work on that from our end. We may end up needing both covers. But until we find out who is transmitting United States secrets through that damn television show, you'll be stuck in America, and I'll be without my best operative." Gia paused, but continued immediately. "Funds are tight, although, we've managed to let you have Jeffrey there as back up for a time. We'll arrange for a command center for you both near the studio."

Ethan could tell Jeffrey was holding back his shout of approval.

"As far as we can tell from our intel, no one has caught on that the Legacy stumbled across these burst transmissions. We've been lucky so far. Let's hope we remain that way."

The screen crackled and Gia's image disappeared from view.

"I'll delve into Carter Wayne's past and see why anyone would want him eliminated," Jeffrey said booting up his laptop.

"And I guess I'll ask Angela Hastings out on a date."

Jeffrey watched Ethan leave and sighed. "That is so unfair."

The Locket - Poltergeist The Legacy fan fiction

The Locket

by Toni Walker
A locket from the Salem Witch Trials releases the spirit of a witch who takes her vengence out on family members from those who imprisoned her. It's up to the Legacy to find out exactly what is happening and who is really behind this unearthly havoc.

Prologue Salem, Massachusetts - 1692

Elizabeth Proctor stood indignantly before Abigail Williams, Reverend Paris' young niece and pointed a boney finger at her. Her looks were gone, her eyes blazing and the sound of revenge tainted in her voice. Elizabeth had once been a respected woman in the community of Salem but now - now that Abigail Williams and her bratty cousin Betty Paris had interfered in her master plans - everything had been ruined.

"How DARE you accuse me of being a witch after all I've done for thee?" Elizabeth's face flushed with red and a scarlet light entered her eyes. It was an unholy light. It made Abigail flinch at the sight of it.

"YOU are of the devil Goody Proctor not I. I did not lie." Abigail said trying to seem older than her mere eleven years. In fear she stepped backwards and tripped on the hem of her long skirt falling to the ground in pain. She clasped her ankle. The pain was immense. "I did NOT accuse falsely. I only confessed the truth."

"You condemn me child, yet you are like me. You are also a witch." Elizabeth seemed to take much pleasure in throwing this taunt back into the child's face.

"I am NOT like you Goody Proctor. I do NOT consort with the devil. I do NOT do his bidding like you. You only hate me because I revealed your true nature to your husband, John. He is a good man, a man who deserves to know exactly whom he is married to."

Elizabeth's anger grew in waves as energy blasts came closer to Abigail's body. Her laughter was stained with evil and the young Williams girl held her hands to her ears to keep out the sound of Satan's advocate.

"Insolent child!" Elizabeth bellowed. I will NOT let you or John condemn me to death. But if I do die, know this, I will defeat death and haunt you and your every descendent."

The older faced the younger and raised her hands in a frightening gesture. Abigail was frozen in fear. Who would save her now? Who would save her from the evil Goody Proctor?

Her response came forth like a knight on a horse. John Proctor, along with a crowd of others, appeared through the trees like an answered prayer. God had not forsaken her on this night. God was good and goodness would win or die trying.

"NO, Elizabeth!" yelled her husband, John Proctor. "I will not allow you to haunt anyone. You will condemn no one on this day. You convict only yourself with your blasphemous words of witchcraft. Next to John stood Rev. Samuel Paris, Magistrates John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin, and Governor Phips. The rest of the Salem townsfolk encircled them from behind in a mob-like crowd.

"The town of Salem condemns you, Elizabeth. Not Abigail. It is only through her that your evil has been revealed. You are the devil's spawn and once we're rid of you, the trials will cease. All ended because of this one moment. Good will prevail, wife." John then lit his candle as did many of the others in the crowd.

"Now Abigail!" John shouted.

In the blink of an eye Abigail was up and thrusting herself toward Elizabeth Proctor's body. She used all her strength to overcome the sudden pain in her ankle. Rising like a cobra from its nest, Abigail snatched the pewter locket from around Elizabeth's neck and threw it across the clearing into John's hand. Two local women, Sarah Good and Rebecca Nurse handed him objects encased in burlap. They threw the ingredients into a large copper bowl which served as their cauldron.

John centered himself and began to chant lightly as did many of the other Salem townsfolk.

The chanting increased and as it did it ignited the ingredients in the bowl. The resulting smoke swirled around Elizabeth Proctor.

Abigail stumbled across the clearing toward her friends crying out in pain with each step. They were good witches, John, Sarah and Rebecca. They were witches only out to serve their Lord in heaven not the devil in hell like Goody Proctor. Abigail also joined in the chanting. Their words became clearer as they raised their voices to shouts.

"In this wicked time. Through your foolish gain. Know only sorrow. Know only pain. We banish your soul. Into this heart of pewter. For your devilish role. This locket will suit you."

Over and over they spun the words until each member of the group spoke them loud enough for Elizabeth to hear across the clearing. She screamed something between a cackle and a moan. It wasn't intelligible to the folks behind them but Abigail and John caught their meaning.

"My goddess Hecate, I will have vengeance against them. Help your servant."

Once her words emitted from her throat, the smoke enveloped her and thrust her into the locket. It snapped closed by itself to the gasps of the magistrates behind them.

Secretly, that night Abigail Williams and John Proctor met under a cloak of darkness. Neither wanted their descendants haunted by one such as Elizabeth Proctor so they put one final barrier between her and this world. They sealed the edges of the pewter locket with a band of silver. They did this to ensure that Elizabeth's soul would never be able to escape her imprisonment.

Present Day: Boston

Cora Corrigan watched the light from the fireplace flicker in David Laskey's eyes. She knew from the first moment she had met him she would spend the rest of her life with him. Love appeared in his eyes like a gift from above and she cherished every wayward glance. Never before had she felt such a connection as this. Never before had she believed that love conquered all. Not until today.

"What are you thinking about?" David asked, curious.

"If you must know," she said playfully, "you."

"Oh, really?" His thumb brushed her knuckles and gently caressed the soft spot between her thumb and index finger. She shivered and their heads drew closer like opposite ends of a magnet. Nothing would keep them apart. Not now, not ever. They had faced so much adversity already.

He gathered her lips into his and she sighed as the chemistry between them heightened. Without warning the warmth from his mouth was gone. He pulled away and Cora verbally moaned.

His blue eyes danced with happiness "I love you," he said softly.

"I love you too," she replied, her eyes filled with a hunger only he could quell. "So, come back here."

"Sorry, can't. We have a list to fill out." He ruffled the papers in front of him like a truce flag. "We've put it off too long. If we don't do this now, no one will be at our wedding besides us."

"Oh, who wants people at our wedding?" She grabbed him around the neck and planted a series of kisses up the side of his throat.

"Stop, stop," he said breathlessly. "My mother will kill me if we don't have this list completed by tomorrow. As it stands, you'll have to call all your relatives in San Francisco. If you don't, they won't make it in time."

Cora glanced at the clock sitting on the mantle above the fireplace. "Tomorrow is hours away. We still have time for a few distractions."

With that, the papers were forgotten and the two spread themselves out on the rug. Firelight danced on their skin and love was in the air.

An hour later while they basked in the afterglow, Cora detailed the few names on her list. There weren't many people in her family and only a few close relatives. David's list was more extensive but David's mother was much more the socialite than anyone in her family. She had an image to maintain. Somehow Cora didn't think she would ever live up to the ideal David's mother had set for her.

David plopped down on a pillow beside Cora and handed her a small golden box.

"Looks like the gifts have started to arrive. Open it."

She giggled like a three year old and tore into the gold wrapping leaving it like a lost memory on the floor. Inside the small box was a very old, very delicate looking locket. The sides were encased in silver but the seal had been recently broken.

"Wow. It's beautiful. Who is it from?"

David searched the discarded paper and found nothing to reveal the sender's identity.

"Guess it's from a secret admirer."

"I love it! Can I wear it now?" Cora pushed golden hair away from her neck as David encircled her throat with the long silver chain.

Turning it toward her, Cora tried to open her new gift. She found she couldn't. It was stuck. Only when David provided assistance did the locket finally open. A gust of wind came forth suddenly swirling around the room. It was so powerful it extinguished the fire in the fireplace.

Cora stared at the blackened logs with wide-eyed surprise. "How did that happen?"

Present Day: San Francisco 

Rachel squirmed as she watched herself hurl energy pulses at her own daughter's helpless body. The very act was awkward. She had conjured a spell to gain the supernatural power of the Corrigan line, but she never wanted power like this. Power that could hurt her Katherine, but that was exactly what she was doing, hurting her own daughter!

Kat's almost lifeless form cowered on the floor twisting itself into a small ball attempting to fend off the attack.

"Fight, Katherine," Rachel heard herself say. "Fight."

Without warning, even to herself, she pitched another wave of violence toward the only important thing in her life. Her own body recoiled in horror when the wave hit its mark. The bottom dropped out of Rachel's stomach when Kat grew increasingly weaker.

"Stop it, Mom," she screamed. Her voice was high pitched and full of terror. She held her hands to her ears. Tears gathered under her eyes and Rachel could only watch as each drop fell to the ground like an unanswered prayer. "You're hurting me, Mom," she whispered.

At first the voice sounded like her daughter's, then it modified, lowered to one she didn't recognize. The small girl before her began to unexpectedly change. With a loud moan, the spirit of Miranda wenched herself free from its vessel.

"You stay away from my daughter!" Rachel spat.

Miranda was now weaker in her crone form, but the strength emitting from her frail hands was immense. It sent Rachel hurling against the far wall. She had to vanquish the crone if she ever wanted her daughter back.

"Kat is mine now." Miranda said with glee. "Mine, forever." The witch stepped again into Kat's helpless body.

"NO!" The hoarse cry ripped from her throat as she sat straight up in bed. "Kat!"

Alex Moreau grabbed a wet cloth from a copper bowl sitting on the bedside table and dabbed Rachel's forehead with a cool compress.

"Rachel, calm down. It's all right. It was only a dream." Alex pushed her back into the pillow and pulled the covers closer to her chin.

"A dream? It was only a dream?" Rachel felt confused. How could it have been a dream? It was so real.

"Must have been a doozie of one too. Look what you've done to your room."

The bed sheets were a twisted tangle and half the contents of the bedside table had been batted to the floor. Alex bent down and retrieved a small picture frame. It's glass was shattered but the image was still intact. It was a photo of Kat. Rachel reached for it and pressed the likeness to her heart.

"I dreamed that Miranda tried to take Kat away from me." Rachel's eyes were hooded, stressed, as if a great weight had been thrust upon her unexpectedly. "Kat's in trouble. I can feel it. A mother knows these things." Her body spasmed as a tremor ran through it.

"Miranda's dead. You killed her. Vanquished her. She's never going to be a threat to you or anyone ever again. Don't worry. Nick and I are here for you. We'll keep you safe. We'll keep of you safe."

"I know... it's just... I have a strange sense... about... evil. Alex, I've warned Kat to stay away from magic..." Rachel's words trailed off. She was too tired to think clearly. She hadn't had a complete night's sleep in days.

"Rachel, Kat gave up her powers just like you did. Don't worry. She's fine."

Alex sat on the edge of the bed pushing the covers closer around her shoulders. For a moment she waited for Rachel to return to some semblance of sleep, then quietly, she exited.

Alex found Nick exactly where she expected him to be, standing in the hall outside of Rachel's room pacing back and forth. His eyes inquired to Rachel's condition before his lips formed the words.

"How is she?" Nick's tired voice sounded particularly guarded.

"I'm worried about her, Nick. She's having those dreams again."

"You mean, the ones about Kat and Miranda?" He raked an uneasy hand through his short brown hair in frustration."

"Yeah, and they're only getting worse."

"It's been a long time since Miranda was alive. Why is this happening now? She's no longer a threat. She's dead."

"Is she? Or did Rachel only detain her for a short time?"

Alex glanced at Nick with nervousness edging on worry.

"You gotta hate those what ifs."

"I hope I'm wrong," Alex said.

"Yeah, me too."

Downstairs in Rachel's kitchen, Alex poured herself another cup of coffee. The rate at which Rachel's dreams had been developing Alex thought it best to stay with the psychiatrist until the effects lessened.

"Wanna cup?" Alex asked, ready to pour the hot black liquid into another flowery mug.

"No." Nick shrugged into his coat. "I've got to get back to the island. Construction. I have to be there to oversee everything. I think Derek would have wanted it that way."

Alex smiled. "The burden is yours to carry now. Construction and all."

"Yeah, I know. How can I forget?"

Twilight masked the twisted wreckage of the Angel Island Legacy House. Most of the grounds and servants' quarters had been untouched by the detonation but the house itself needed major reconstruction. Workers had been busy for weeks creating the castle from scratch. Legacy archives produced blueprints for the workmen to work from and craftsmen and artisans from around the world attempted to recreate the castle in all its former glory.

Stones for the outside structure had been shipped directly from Ireland and most of the hard wood special ordered. The house itself probably cost a fortune to build back in the old days, but the Legacy wasn't worried about money. They had money. Old money. And he didn't want to know where they got it. He didn't need to know and didn't actually care. The Legacy higher ups only cared about one thing...sealing off the portal for good no matter what the cost, and the only way to ensure that was to take possession of the grounds again. Which, of course, is what they had done.

A series of priests, rabbis and shaman blessed the burnt structure and holy water saturated the ground. No precaution was too great. This house would have to last another thousand years until the next millennia. Nick was only glad he didn't have to be there for that one as well. All he knew for sure was that the damn portal under the mansion had ruined his year, his life and his family. Would any of them ever be the same?

Nick wondered how hard it would be to walk into the house and know Derek would never set foot inside again. Maybe he was with Kristen and guarding the island. The angels of Angel Island. He liked to think of Derek in that way. At least thinking of him as an angel made him forget the pain, forget the loss and forget that his leaving put another hole in his family.

A muscle in his jaw throbbed and he tried to control his anger. This wasn't fair. Derek shouldn't have had to die. A workman walked by and patted Nick on the shoulder. His name was Gary and his father owned the Angel Island Ferry. When he wasn't rebuilding blackened hollowed out shells of castles, he was running the ferry. It wasn't too exciting but Nick guessed it was a living.

"You okay there, Nick?" Gary asked, as the last of his workmen packed up their gear.

"Yeah, fine. Peachy."

"I'm real sorry about Derek. Nice guy."

"Thanks."

"Oh, by the way, we got all the bedrooms finished. Phone lines are in and a few of those fancy computers arrived today. I put them inside the main foyer."

"What's it look like? Got an ETA?"

"A week. Maybe two. The stones on the outside will be a bitch since I can't get a crane over on the ferry. But we'll manage somehow. Always do."

"Thanks Gary. Have a nice night."

"You too. Get some sleep. You look like you haven't seen a bed in weeks."

"Gee, thanks."

"Don't mention it." Gary smiled, waved and headed toward the ferry where his men were waiting.

Inside was like walking in a dream. There was the staircase. Same as it always was. How many times had he and Derek ascended them talking about one case or another? How many times had he talked with Derek or kidded with Derek before turning in for the night? How many times had he taken for granted that Derek would always be there?

A tear slipped through his tough exterior. No matter how tough he tried to act, it was going to be a long time before he could ever walk up those stairs and not think of his friend, his confident, his father-figure. Damn, this was going to be harder than he thought. He ran, not walked, up the sloping staircase. The memories were everywhere. The walls were blank but in his minds eye he could visualize every canvas, picture them in intricate detail, remember exactly where they hung on the wall.

Finding the door to his room was a comfort. Solace from the memories. Somewhere to hide. God, where was the SEAL he had trained to be? Where was the hard nosed tough guy with the considerable attitude? Maybe it was his lack of sleep that made his mind waver like this. Maybe not. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Somehow he didn't think so.

Nick had been asleep nearly four hours. Adequate rest for the SEAL he use to be, but now not nearly enough for the man he had become. Ever since Derek's death he'd been withdrawn, moodier than usual and needed a heck of a lot more zzz's. So today, four hours was like being asleep for four minutes. Just enough to get him started. Now he knew for certain he'd be cranky in the morning. He prayed Alex and Rachel were nowhere near him when his dark angry side came bursting out. Nick didn't like being that way. Hostile and moody. At least, not in the morning.

The noise which had initially woken him was only an annoying hum, something he figured he could ignore. But when the sound didn't cease, he swatted at the air next to his bedside hoping to hit the alarm clock dead on the snooze bar. His hand connected with only open space. There wasn't anything there to be swatted at. The only piece of furniture in his room at the present was the bed. Not his bed, the really comfy, soft one, but some other generic bed they'd loaned him until the real deal arrived tomorrow.

With his eyes still shut, he figured it to be five am. Six if he was lucky. Peeking open one eye he peered at his watch. The indiglo button revealed he was correct. His internal clock was right on. Five-thirty on the dot.

It was at that moment, while he was partially awake, he realized what the annoying noise was. It was the phone. The only other thing in the room. A bed and a phone. A dastardly combination when you were tired and needed your sleep.

Someone was definitely cruising for a bruising waking him at this hour.

He reached down, extending his arm farther than he thought possible and picked up the extension. A woman greeted him with a hearty, if not sunny, "Hello."

"Yeah," he said, huddling into a ball on the side of the bed. He bunched up the covers around his neck cradling the receiver in one hand and listening with his free ear. The one that wasn't smashed into the pillow.

He didn't recognize the voice. Then again, he didn't think too well on four hours sleep.

"Yes, I'm Cora Corrigan." She said it like it should explain everything. It didn't. He didn't know who in the hell Cora Corrigan was.

"Sure. What do you want?" It sounded rude even to Nick.

"I'm sorry to bother you. I know it's rather early out there. What is it? Six-thirty? Seven-thirty? I get the time zones so confused."

She sounded like every ditzy blond he'd ever known or viewed at the movies, except she really wasn't acting. She was a flake. For real.

"It's five-thirty here," he said groggily.

"Five thirty?" her pronouncement practically blew out his ear drum. He held the phone away from his head. "I am sorry. Do you want to shoot me or what?"

Don't tempt me, Nick thought. He didn't answer her question. He wasn't rude. Nick wondered if screaming at her would make her go away any faster?

"It's kinda early. What did you say you wanted?" Nick's jaw throbbed with the early stages of anger.

"Oh, yeah, right. I just wanted to invite Rachel and Kat to my wedding. It's this next Friday. I waited so long that I totally forgot to mail the invitations."

Nick wondered why he wasn't surprised. Definitely a flake. "Sorry to hear that."

"What?" she wailed. "You're sorry to hear that I'm getting married?" Her voice grew pouty and he could imagine her lip severely jutting out.

"No, I meant that you forgot to mail your invitations. Happens to the best of us."

"Oh, the same thing happen to you?"

"No, I'm not even in the neighborhood of getting married. Is there something you wanted me to tell Rachel? Something specific?" He jotted down the information after rifling through his clothes for a scrap of paper and pen. Usually he didn't carry either. Today he had both. Thank God for small favors. Five seconds after she hung up he was sound asleep.

Alex poured Nick his second cup of coffee. He'd been at the Angel Island site all morning observing construction and maintenance crews. Everything was finally complete. The furniture was due in the next few hours and all that was left was to set up the control room and buy himself a whole new wardrobe. In the rush of construction he'd totally forgotten to buy clothes for himself. It wasn't something he was looking forward to. Shopping wasn't his thing. Although Rachel and Alex seemed to enjoy it.

"Cora Corrigan, huh? Did she say how she was related to Rachel?"

"Nope, not one word. But I wasn't quite in the listening mood, know what I mean." Nick raised his eyebrows and cast Alex a determined glance.

Kat bounced in the room with socked feet and slid across the linoleum floor until she reached the shelf where Rachel kept the cereal. She grabbed a box of her favorite and poured it into a brown bowl.

"Hey, isn't it a little late for breakfast?" Alex asked.

"It's never too late for breakfast, right Kat?"

"Right Nick," she said in a cheery mood.

Nick wished he could bounce back as well as she had. Kids were so resilient.

Rachel breezed in behind Kat. Her mood didn't match her daughter's. It mimicked Nick's.

"One bowl. That's all," Rachel said in her strictest motherly voice.

"Right, one bowl." Kat scooped in a mouthful of colorful breakfast food and smiled at both Nick and Alex.

Nick downed the remains of his coffee, poured himself another cup, and sat at the table next to Rachel. She had her hand to her temple in a mock gesture of pain. Her head was bowed, and she was pretending to read the morning paper. He knew she wasn't because it was upside down before her on the table. Nick waved his hand under her nose. Her eyes didn't register the motion as she continued to stare into nothingness.

"Rachel, are you sure you're all right?" Nick sipped at his coffee. When he realized an answer wasn't forthcoming, he shook her shoulder lightly. "Rachel?"

"Humm?" She acted as if she'd been pulled from an intense moment of contemplation and glanced up to him offering a slight smile.

"Morning Nick," she said slowly. When she brought her own coffee cup to her lips, she thrust it away. The coffee was ice cold.

"It's still haunting you, isn't it?" Nick turned his voice down a notch to the tone of compassion. It wasn't a voice he used often.

Rachel nodded and a tear slipped down her cheek. "Kat almost died that day," she said muffling a sob. Rachel wiped rapidly at the tears and smiled half-heartedly at Nick again.

"It was a long time ago. She's a kid. They bounce back better than us sometimes."

"I know. You're right. But I can't let go of the feeling that Kat is still in danger."

"It's those dreams, right? Alex said you were having them," Nick glanced toward Alex. He hoped it was okay to delve into this line of questioning.

"They're so strange. People are dying. Kat is in trouble and we're not where we're suppose to be." Rachel tried to force the dreams to reemerge but they were only faint images now that she was awake.

There was a long quietness before Nick decided to break the silence.

"Oh, by the way, Cora Corrigan called for you while I was at the castle. Guess she doesn't know you have your own phone number. Anyway, she said she was getting married. Wanted you and the squirt here to come and watch her get hitched." Nick ruffled Kat's hair and she brushed his hand away.

"Cora Corrigan? There's a name I haven't heard in years. She's my husband's sister. Practically the only real family we still have."

Nick fiddled with the last batch of wires hooking up the new control room computers to the outside world. He had yet to hook up to the exterior surveillance equipment which luckily wasn't a problem since there hadn't been any poltergeist-ish activity in the last few weeks. He was glad too. The guard at the front gate didn't start up rounds again until next week.

Unbeknownst to Nick, a stranger entered the control room. He observed Nick crouched in an awkward position underneath a console making connections with a pair of wire strippers hanging out his back pocket. Nick was intensely concentrating on the complexities of the satellite link when the stranger placed a light hand on his shoulder.

A dose of adrenaline coursed through Nick rocketing him to a standing position. Grabbing a gun from his boot, Nick took a ready stance. He should have never let his guard down.

"Who the hell are you? Nick trained the gun on his unexpected visitor.

The man before him was dressed in a tan sports coat and a very faded pair of blue jeans. He reached out a hand to Nick who cautiously regarded it like it was a bizarre relic from an alien civilization. Carefully, he steadied the gun and stood his ground. Something about the man seemed familiar, familiar in a British-not-from-this-town sort of way.

Still Nick let his gut speak for itself and held his gun on the stranger.

"Same ole Nick," the man said twisting the edges of his moustache. "I'm quite hurt that you don't recognize me."

The man got a peculiar expression on his face as if he'd just had a moment of enlightenment.

"Maybe it's the moustache." He held a hand up to his face covering the facial hair there revealing to Nick the remainder of his rugged features.

"Nah, it can't be... Raymond? I thought you were dead." Nick lowered the gun and a quick smile graced his tired face.

"So did I, Nick. So did I."

"Raymond Hartford, well, I'll be."

Over a cup of horrid coffee, the only kind Nick was capable of making, Raymond related his mysterious near death accident. Nick marveled at how much the man had changed in three years. He had been not much more than a severely underweight, gawky, British computer nerd. Now he looked more like a lumberjack with an English accent. The new addition of the moustache just seemed to complete the package somehow. If he had seen Raymond on the streets of San Francisco, he would have walked right on by. That's how much his old friend had changed.

Their conversation lasted well on into the afternoon and much to Nick's delight Raymond helped him complete not only the internal and external security, but patch up the glitches in the control room.

"The old saying is right," Nick lamented as he plopped down on the couch in the sitting room.

"What's that?" Raymond wondered aloud.

"Two heads are better than one."

"Right. Too true, but you better not let your Legacy co-horts hear that. It's just enough to ruin that macho reputation you've worked so hard to attain." Raymond couldn't help but smile. "By the way," he glanced behind him. "Where are the lovely Rachel and Alex?"

"On their way to Boston. Some relative of Rachel's is getting married. Alex went with them."

"Them?"

"Rachel and her daughter, Kat. Kat can't wait to visit the witch museums in Salem, but I don't think Rachel is too keen on the idea."

Raymond's eyes arched curiously.

"Long story. Don't ask." Nick got up, closed the compartment below the console hiding the wires connecting their computers to the outside world. They were finally up and running once again.

"So what brings you to my neck of the woods?" Nick fingered the gold precept's ring encircling his finger.

"Actually, I'm here about that ring Derek gave you."

"This old thing? It's tarnished and it doesn't fit right. You'd hate it." Nick offered up a lopsided grin.

The smile animating Nick's face slowly dropped when Raymond clutched his chest. His face pinched in what Nick could only guess was pain. It didn't seem Raymond was capable of calling on Nick for assistance. Nick stepped forward, and a strong wind swirled around the British gentleman. It's power and frequency increased in waves until it had actually lifted Raymond off the floor hovering him near the ceiling.

Nick tugged at Raymond's feet but the wind was stronger than he was. Suddenly, something almost like an invisible hand shoved Nick catapulting him toward the far wall. He crashed into it backwards and crumbled to the floor in a heap.

Before he passed out Nick could swear he heard a woman's voice, and then a hard thump as Raymond's body fell to the Earth.

"Through all generations. Throughout all time. My enemies will die. Vengeance be mine!"

The San Francisco Airport was bustling with travelers hurriedly on their way to one important destination or another. Each was carrying a multiple array of suitcases crammed to near bulging with every necessity they could possibly require for their journey. Alex, Rachel and Kat, however, were not so similarly endowed. They all had one small bag, big enough to easily carry in an overhead compartment or under a chair. They were seasoned travelers and so in their infinite travel wisdom, they chose to pack accordingly.

In the fervor and chaos of the airport, the travelers were surprisingly able to strategically miss each other by scant inches. Some were flying down corridors to departing gates while others were merely standing around acting as obstacles for those in a rush to get to their destinations quickly. Soulless voices shouted at them from all angles reminding the passengers that their flights had either arrived, were delayed or cancelled all together. The noise of yakking voices droned on like an endlessly annoying buzz.

Kat Corrigan couldn't seem to contain her excitement. They were going to Boston. It was, for her, like going to an enchanted part of another world. In Boston was Philip, and also not far from bean town was Salem. The young girl only hoped she could talk her mother into letting her visit the town of the witch trials. She really wasn't holding out hope that pigs would fly but somehow she prayed that her mother would relent and let her at least visit the town if nothing else. Sure she wasn't a witch any longer, and she didn't have powers but the culture and history of witchcraft would be forever linked to Kat's soul. She only wished her mother understood that.

Their flight appeared to be delayed and Kat played in the waiting room. She bounced on empty chairs while her mother sat staring at the floor in deep contemplation. She knew her mom wasn't quite in the mood for a trip out of town but something else seemed to be bothering her. Kat only wished she knew what it was.

Alex, on the other hand, was pacing in front of Rachel and Kat. Her brown eyes were everywhere taking in the commuters, tourists and travelers. Somehow Kat knew Alex was looking at the people but not seeing. She was seeing something else, something no one but her could see. Kat knew that Alex Moreau was having a vision.

Present Day: Boston 

The Boston P.D. were baffled. Ten strange deaths in three days, and each victim had on his person somewhere an odd mark seared into their skin. What was this world coming to?

Detective Arthur Knight secured a badge to his belt and set forth in finding the culprit of the unusual deaths. He made his exit from the station quietly. He didn't want the guys in the precinct to know exactly where he was going. Somehow paying a call on a priest didn't quite make him seem like a macho man.

Standing outside a church wasn't something Arthur did on a regular basis, not even on Sundays, but Arthur knew that if he wanted to find out who was killing innocent people - he needed Father Philip Callahan's help to do it.

The church loomed large in the hot afternoon sun. Arthur cringed before going in, much like he guessed a vampire would if burned by a cross. Religion was definitely not Arthur Knights forte, not even in the same galaxy as any talent he possessed or wanted to. Arthur Knight was a cop, born and bred. He didn't go in for sissy pew squatting, but today he was making an exception. Planting his hand on the large door handle, the veteran cop let himself into the darkness of the sanctuary. He exhaled a sigh of uneasiness.

The next time he'd make damn sure Callahan came into his neck of the woods instead of vice versa. It only seemed fair.

Philip Callahan had experienced many things in his young life so when Arthur Knight walked into his church he recognized the man's need of guidance immediately. He knew a soul in need when he saw one. And the man who had entered the sanctuary looked more in need of saving than many of the homeless he tended to each night. Philip watched the man curiously for a few minutes giving him time to get use to his new surroundings. Before Philip could make his way to the back of the church, the new visitor was seeking him out.

"Hey!" he shouted across the way. Patrons glanced up from their prayers - bent knees, hands clasped - and watched the slightly balding, overweight man come barreling down the center isle toward Philip.

"You Callahan?" he asked, again he spoke loudly not caring whom he disturbed.

"If you don't mind, this is a church. You don't have to yell. I can hear you perfectly well."

"I was just trying to catch your attention, Father," Arthur Knight said licking the remainder of a pastry from his fingers.

"You have my attention now... Mister?"

"Detective Arthur Knight," he said, heavy emphasis on detective, like it was a get out of jail free card enabling him to get away with anything.

"Well, ... detective,... do you have a reason for interrupting the prayers of the people around you or is this merely a social call?"

Philip was usually the calm, cool, collected one but at this particular moment he felt more like Nick Boyle - angry at this man's intrusion into his life.

"Actually, Father - may I call you Father?" Philip nodded. "Actually, Father, I've put two and two together."

"Really?" Philip said trying to glean on his meaning.

"That's right. Today two plus two equals you." Arthur Knight took a stance like he'd solved the riddle of the Sphinx and was ready to tell the world of his discovery.

Philip tried not to laugh at the man's obvious arrogance.

"However did you come up with that equation, detective?"

"Simple really. We've had ten deaths in the last three days. Each victim carried a bizarre oval marking on their body."

Philip took a step backward. This was beginning to sound more like a job for the Legacy not the Catholic church or the Boston P.D.

"And this relates to me, how?" Philip knew Arthur Knight had a reason for being there. It was obvious the man wasn't there to give reverence to his God.

"Well, Father, each victim was either a patron of your church or you officiated at their wedding." The detective crossed his arms as if he'd just sealed the priest's fate by his words.

"I haven't officiated at a wedding in the last three days, detective."

The man stumbled over his tongue before throwing a taunt back into the priest's face. 

"Technicality. You're still in one way or another linked to all the victims."

"So are you saying I killed these people?" Philip didn't like where this was going.

"I don't know, Father. You tell me."

Present Day: San Francisco 

"Nick? Nick?" Alex couldn't contain her fear that something horrible had happened to Nick. She had abandoned Rachel and Kat at the airport minutes before their flight departed and hurried back to the Legacy mansion. The grounds surrounding the castle were quiet. The house was quieter. The stillness didn't do anything to ease her mind.

She called out over and over hoping nothing had happened to Nick. Her premonition told her he was in danger, not dead. She held onto hope that her premonition was correct.

Alex searched the entire mansion without success. The only room left was the control room. She stepped in front of the large ancient map and waited for the retinal scanner to complete the identification process. She heard the computer digitally say, "Alex Moreau."

"That's new." she whispered, as she walked through the holographic map and into the control center of Legacy operations.

She spotted him the moment she passed through the holographic image. Nick was lying on the floor motionless, but he was alive. She could see his chest rise and fall. Alex breathed a sigh of relief. The man lying awkwardly on the other side of the room wasn't as lucky as Nick. He wasn't breathing. He was dead.

Rushing to his side, Alex checked for injuries. Other than a blow to the head, nothing seemed out of place. No knife wounds, bullet holes or puncture marks. Thank god for small favors. She placed a pillow under Nick's head and then turned her attention to the other man.

Although he'd changed a lot, Alex recognized Raymond Hartford immediately.

"What's he doing here?"

She whispered the question but suddenly realized what his mission to San Francisco probably had been. "He's here for Nick. The precept trial."

Alex glanced at Nick's now stirring form. She felt bad for him. He and Raymond had been very good friends at one time. But now that Hartford was dead, the London House would probably send someone who would be less lenient on Nick. It must have been pure luck that Raymond was assigned this case at all. Luck that had unfortunately run out for the Legacy researcher turned field agent.

Before she returned to Nick and his injuries, Alex noticed a small mark on Raymond's collarbone. She moved the material away and uncovered an unusual scorch mark. It resembled the design on a necklace or charm. The symbol called out to her and Alex placed her fingertips on the strange marking.

The world suddenly became black and white as it always did in one of her visions. The environment seemed different, fresher, cleaner. Men dressed in vintage black overcoats and women in an almost peasant-like costumes. But Alex knew this was no vision from a costume party. Immediately she felt a shift in the time period.

A mob-like crowd chanted. She couldn't see any of their faces clearly but four stood out among the many. They were clearer and chanted the loudest. Then a necklace came into view. It flew across the landscape of her mind in slow motion. On it was the symbol she'd seen on Raymond Hartford's body. Before the vision escaped into the nothingness where visions went, Alex heard a name. Abigail Williams.

Present Day: Boston

The church was empty and Rachel realized that she and Kat must be extremely early for Cora's wedding. Either that or she'd missed it entirely.

"Come on, Mom," Kat begged for the fifteenth time. Can't we go to Salem?"

"No, honey. You know how I feel about that stuff and its influence on you."

"I know, but pleeeeaaaseeee!" Kat was practically on her hands and knees begging. Rachel tried not to give Kat the impression she was wearing down. Salem wasn't hell, at least she didn't think it was. Maybe a trip there wasn't such a bad idea. She'd see how she felt about it tomorrow.

"Ah, Rachel, give your daughter a break for once." She turned to address who was talking to her. But she knew who it was before she glanced up.

"Philip!" Kat said with glee. She ran with exuberant joy and leaped into his arms. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you as well." He cupped the child's face then looked to her mother. "And you too Rachel."

"Hi, Philip," she said with genuine surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Philip moved his hand around indicating the sanctuary. "Look around. This is a church. This is my church. I work here."

Rachel felt like a complete idiot. She had failed to observe the church's nameplate upon entering the sanctuary. She glanced around finally recognizing it.

"I'm so sorry. I've just been a little distracted lately."

"I know," he said, honestly. "Alex is worried about you."

"That girl does get around."

Philip chuckled. "Yes, she does indeed."

While Philip and Kat talked about old times, Rachel answered her cell phone. It's ringing was of particular annoyance since she was in a house of God where you were suppose to remain silent and reflective.

She whispered a "hello" then retreated to the lobby. Philip and Kat promptly followed her.

"Rachel, it's Alex."

"Alex, is everything all right? You rushed out of the airport so fast I didn't know if we were suppose to wait for you or not."

"I'm sorry about that but we have a big problem." Alex tried to relate as best she could about Raymond Hartford's death but since Nick still hadn't completely regained consciousness she didn't know the entire story.

"...and there's this mark on his body," she said finishing up her account. "Oval shaped with a sort of flower motif in the center. It's burned into his skin like a brand."

"An oval brand?" she echoed Alex's terminology.

Philip's eyes perked up at the mention of the strange marking. He indicated to Rachel that he wanted to talk to Alex and she quickly handed over the phone to him.

"Alex, would this be an oval with a flower design in the center, almost like an impression of a locket?" Philip became more concerned by the minute.

"Yes, that's it exactly. How did you know?"

"There's been a string of deaths in the Boston area over the last few days. Ten so far. Each was marked with an oval brand like you described."

"Sounds like a pattern to me. I'll start researching into the design and the ten victims and how they relate to one another. Oh, and by the way, have you ever heard of Abigail Williams?"

"Abigail Williams? You mean the girl from the days of the witch trials?" Philip was confused. Why had that name suddenly come out of left field?

"You've heard of her?" Alex seemed to be pumping him for more information.

"Of course, haven't you?"

"No, why would I?"

"I thought everyone had to read Arthur Miller's 'The Crucible' when they were in school." Her silence told him she'd never read it. "It's a play set back in the time of the Salem Witch Trials. As far as I know he used actual people in his adaptation."

"So Abigail Williams was a real person?"

"I assume so. Why?"

"Because when I touched the scorch mark the name Abigail Williams invaded my mind."

In her computer search of the victims, Alex discovered something interesting. Each person was in some way related to Abigail Williams. Finding that certain link had been easy. They'd done it before on other cases - searching the family histories for possible crossovers. But somehow Alex didn't think finding the source of the burn mark would be as simple. She knew the image had great significance. If it didn't, Alex wouldn't have been able to draw a vision from touching it.

After a complete search of the internet found nothing curious, Alex turned to the vast Legacy archives. She didn't know how long it would take to get a match from their immense database, but at least she wasn't sitting on her laurels doing nothing.

"Did anyone get the number of that mac truck?" Nick said as he entered the control room through the holographic map image.

His entrance startled Alex. "God, Nick. Warn a girl before you come sneaking up on her." She glanced at his bruised face and forearms. "You look awful."

"That's good. At least I know how I look and how I feel echo one another." Nick sat down next to her wincing at the strength it took just to find a comfortable position.

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?" Concern animated her features.

"Sure, invisible demons can't get me down. And some of the best have tried."

Alex offered a wan smile and returned to her computer search. Later she figured she'd ask him about what really happened, but right now she had a job to do.

Nick watched over her shoulder as she displayed the burn image on the left of the screen. Other photos of possible matches flipped on the right. He squinted at the marking.

"What are you doing?"

"There have been some strange deaths in Boston. Each victim was branded with this image."

Nick laughed then stopped when the pain in his side returned. "What? A bi-costal ghost?"

Alex stared at him strangely. "What are you taking about? I think that whatever-it-was knocked you on the head a little too hard."

"You didn't see it?"

"What?"

"The mark on Raymond's body? It's exactly like that one."

Present Day: Boston 

The church had gotten busier and busier over the course of the last few hours. Caterers, florists and bridesmaids readied for the wedding of Cora Corrigan and David Laskey.

"What did Alex find out?" Philip asked as he and Rachel walked through the halls of the sanctuary dodging delivery men.

"Nothing much so far but she did link all the victims to Abigail Williams."

"Abigail Williams," Philip said contemplatively. "There's that name again."

"Why do you say that?" Rachel was curious.

"I totally forgot this until a little while ago, but David Laskey mentioned to me that was related to Abigail Williams. It seems the connection made him somewhat of a celebrity in high school. And not in a good way."

"David's related to Abigail Williams?"

Philip nodded.

"We have to warn him. Someone is killing her descendants and not taking particular care about who they destroy."

Kat waited in the area that contained the Sunday school rooms and stared out the window. Being here was boring. She wasn't getting to talk with Philip and she wasn't getting to go to Salem. It was a bummer all around.

"So. You're interested in Salem, little one?"

Kat gasped at the sound of the strange women's voice. She whirled around but no one was there. At least, no one living, but she could feel the entity's presence. Unexpectedly, the woman appeared in a translucent form. Her image wavered distorting the bookcase behind her. Kat's breath came faster and she tried to scream but words wouldn't come forth.

She wanted her mom.

"Leave me alone," she said through ragged breaths. "Get away from me." Kat tried to race by the woman's spectral shape but found she couldn't. She bounced back into the room as if she'd hit an invisible wall.

Through the doorway she could see a man staring at her. His eyes were wide and his face flushed. "Help me!" she squealed.

The man came toward the door but he was thrust away by one wave of the woman's hand.

"You have no need of him. We are kindred spirits, you and I. Let us go to Salem where you most desperately want to be, and I will teach you my ways."

"NOOOooooo!"

The image of the woman swirled around Kat in a mini whirlwind. The young girl screamed but her protests fell on deaf ears. Suddenly, they both vanished.

The man who had been beating on the invisible barrier was finally able to rush into the room. He trained his eyes quickly around the empty space and shook his head. He couldn't have seen what he thought he saw.

Detective Arthur Knight picked up a child's backpack from the floor and made his way back to the sanctuary- at a run. Maybe Father Philip Callahan could explain this one to him, but somehow he didn't think so. It didn't seem to fall under the 'will of God' category.

Present Day: San Francisco 

"You're saying Raymond Hartford's body had this marking on it?" Alex was getting more confused by the minute.

"Yup. Exactly that. It's not something I'm likely to forget."

"Okay, I'll find out what made this burn mark and you find out who or what Abigail Williams has to do with any of this. I was only able to find the regular mumbo jumbo about her on the internet. Leader of a childhood rebellion that started the Salem Witch Trials. But I'm sure the Legacy archives might mention more about her than the usual, I hope."

"Boy," Nick said smiling through his pain. "Getting a little pushy in your old age."

Alex forced a fake smile his way and returned to her computer search. Nick did the same and together they went hunting the Legacy database for clues.

Present Day: Boston 

Detective Arthur Knight raced down the sanctuary middle aisle faster than he thought possible for the overweight investigator. Plus, he didn't have his smug, I-know-better-than-you look on his face. If Philip wasn't mistaken, it was replaced by a mask of fear.

"Father!" he yelped, his voice changed jumping an octave. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Father! Father! I really need to speak with you."

When he caught up with Philip he was panting and frantically waving a small backpack.

"What's wrong, detective?"

Knight pointed back toward the Sunday school classrooms while gasping for air. "Back there." he said barely in a whisper. Then louder when he found his voice again. "Back there... Girl... Ghost... Thing... Gone..."

It seemed the detective was so frightened he was unable to make complete sentences. Rachel watched the man with an eye of a doctor and tried to ascertain his symptoms. It was near the completion of his tirade she noticed the backpack he'd been flailing around. She grabbed it from him in motherly anguish.

"Where did you get this?" Rachel asked the man, ready to slap some sense into him if need be.

He continued to huff and puff and pointed again back toward the classrooms. "Gone... Vanished. Poof!" He made a gesture in the air like a magician.

"Who took her?" Rachel said now nearing hysterics. "Where's my baby?"

Philip decided that it was time he intervened. Rachel was in no condition to question the detective. He pulled her away from the man and turned toward him putting himself between the two.

"Someone took Rachel's daughter, Kat? Did the ghost say anything that might tell us where they went?" Philip said his words in a calm, not intimidating manner.

The investigator's eyes grew wide. Not in fear but in that 'eureka' moment where he remembered something important.

"Salem. She's taking her to Salem," Knight said, now in control of his vocabulary again. "She said they were kindred spirits. And the girl wanted to go there. Or something like that."

"This ghost must be a witch, then," Philip said. "That would make them kindred spirits."

"Of the worst kind." Rachel said. "But Kat isn't a witch any more."

"Yes, but she was a witch once and nearly turned to the side of evil. This is something that might forever taint her soul making her susceptible to evil entities." Philip knew this might upset Rachel but she had to know what could come of her daughter in the future if she once again turned to the dark side.

 

'We have to get to Salem. Kat could be in great danger.

Philip, Rachel and Detective Knight raced out of the church and into the investigator's car which was parked illegally outside. Cora Corrigan saw the three high tail it away from her at top speed. She wondered what they were in such a hurry for.

She fingered the necklace at her throat. The pewter locket gleamed with an ethereal light. She really needed to ask Rachel an important question. And she had to do it before the wedding tomorrow. She followed the three outside and watched as they drove away. Her car was nearby and she chased after them recklessly dodging cars who were following the rules of the roads. This must have been a book Cora was not completely in touch with. She drove like a stock car driver in a demolition derby. Many of the nearby cars had dents in them as a result.

Present Day: San Francisco 

"Abigail Williams was quite the heroine in her time." Nick said after discovering a journal from a Legacy member back in 1692. "Quentin Berryman was a Legacy member back during the witch trials. He wrote this in his journal. It seems that Abigail Williams along with John Proctor, two other witches and the entire town of Salem banished a woman into a locket. There's a sketch."

Nick brought the sketch up on the computer. It exactly mirrored the burn marks on all the victims.

"Elizabeth Proctor was condemned by the entire community as being the one to instigate the witch trials. According to the journal it was a way for Elizabeth to rid herself of the good witches in their society. She wanted to make Salem a community of evil crones and her ultimate goal was to resurrect a demon whom she served as master. Quentin didn't know who that was. That's all I have here."

"Well, that's a lot more than we had two hours ago. Plus, I found the locket. It's in the vault at the Boston House. Unfortunately, it disappeared three days ago." Alex picked up the phone and called Rachel. She had to be apprized of the situation.

Nick gathered up his coat and gloves. "Use your cell phone." he said suddenly. "I have a feeling that we're going to be needed in Boston."

Present Day: Salem 

"You, child, are the one I've been waiting for - returning me to this Earthly plane so I can further seek my vengeance. First the descendants of the bratty Williams girl, then my beloved husband and after that every person who ever was linked to someone in this dreadful town. They will be eradicated from this level of existence as if they were never born. And I will revel in the fact that I did it all." Elizabeth Proctor came as fully visible as she was able and stared down at the small child sleeping before her.

"You do not know it child, but you too are a descendant of this town. But you carry with you the power, the power I require to vanquish this world."

"Are we letting our anger get the best of us Elizabeth?" Reed Horton materialized next to Kat's sleeping form and confronted the witch. "I only helped you escape from the locket for one reason and one reason alone. I have a vendetta of my own to settle."

Cora Corrigan careened down the highway like a mad woman in pursuit of Rachel. The locket at her throat flopped like a fish with each jump the car made. She was nearly upon them when a helicopter hovered over a clearing depositing two people on the soft spring grass. It was a man and a woman. They seemed to be meeting Rachel and her two friends. Cora wondered what was going on and skidded to a halt a few feet from the helicopter. Her dangerous driving drew the group's attention.

"Hey, lady, where'd you get your driver's license? Combat school?" Nick was in no mood to deal with innocent bystanders who couldn't help but nose in on Legacy business.

Rachel glanced up from her tears and noticed the woman. "Cora? What are you doing here?" She flicked the wet droplets from her face and tried to regain some sort of composure. She wasn't used to being without her daughter. She wasn't use to not knowing what was going on.

"I really need to talk to you," she said with a sheepish smile on her face. "I completely forgot to ask you something. Would you be the maid of honor at my wedding?"

Nick's laugh burst out like rapid fire.

"Lady, you have lousy timing. Rachel's daughter is missing and we don't even know when we'll find her. So why don't you go back and...," Nick had only started on his tirade toward the blonde dingbat when Alex stopped him in mid rant. She rested an arm on his shoulder.

"Nick. Look at her necklace." Alex said softly.

Nick came close. He fingered the pewter item then grabbed the locket and yanked it from around her neck breaking the chain.

"Hey!" Cora yelled. "Someone gave me that as a wedding present. Give it back."

Philip tried to console her. "Cora, you don't know what sort of evil that locket holds. It's better off if you leave this to us. We can get you a different locket."

"But I don't want a different locket. I want that one."

"Yes, Nick, give her back the locket. It has only one use, really. And I doubt Elizabeth will be wanting to return to its depths anytime soon." Reed Horton appeared next to Cora and she jumped at his arrival.

"Where did you come from?" Cora said sensing that he wasn't of this world.

"Horton!" Nick and Philip said in sync.

"I thought you were dead." Nick said to the now solid form of Reed Horton.

"Been there, done that." Horton said mockingly. "You severely underestimate me, Mr. Boyle."

"So releasing Elizabeth Proctor from the locket was only a way to lure us out into the open away from our home base?" Philip said in a moment of realization.

"The priest gets it in one. Very good. Until you and your little group are disbanded from the earth I'll continue to come back again and again." Horton put his hands on Cora's arms. "But not just yet. If we want to make this interesting, you must come and get me. And I'll take dear Cora here as insurance." With that as his last word on the subject, Horton disappeared along with Cora.

Nick dangled the locket from his hand then stuffed it in his pocket for safekeeping. "Someone's gotta teach that guy how to die."

"At least we have the locket," the scared detective said. "Maybe, if we're lucky, we can get both of them in it."

The group looked at him with scowls on their faces.

"What?"

The five of them came up with a plan one that would most definitely banish Elizabeth Proctor back into the locket, this time hopefully for eternity. Nick had his research from the Legacy journal of Quentin Berryman and in it the man had chronicled the exact incantation which put Elizabeth in the locket in the first place. They were going to use this as the ace up their sleeve. The only thing they didn't know was how to deal with Reed Horton. The man seemed to have an issue with dying and meaning it.

As a last resort they called on David Laskey. Rachel hated doing this but it meant saving both Cora and Kat's life and if David loved her enough he'd be willing to sacrifice his own life for hers. So in other words, David Laskey was bait since he was a descendant of Abigail Williams.

They set up their trap in the exact same clearing Abigail Williams and John Proctor had used so many years before. While they hid among the trees lining the small open area, David pretended to be looking for Cora. He called out her name over and over until the gamble paid off and Elizabeth Proctor revealed herself. It seemed she couldn't pass up a chance to rid herself of the Williams line.

Rachel came out from her hiding place and shouted. "The town of Salem condemns you Elizabeth Proctor. We condemn you."

Alex joined her along with Philip and they threw the ingredients into a large copper bowl which served as their cauldron. As the ingredients blended a fine mist formed around the clearing. The sky grew dark and the wind howled. Rachel held the locket in her hand. It was open and ready.

"In this wicked time. Through your foolish gain. Know only sorrow. Know only pain. We banish your soul. Into this heart of pewter. For your devilish role. This locket will suit you."

Over and over Rachel, Philip and Alex spun the words until each member of the group spoke them loud enough for Elizabeth to hear across the clearing. She screamed something between a cackle and a moan.

"NO!" she wailed. "You tricked me!"

"You tricked yourself, Elizabeth. Believing that Reed Horton would help you. He is only out to fulfil his own evil ends. He doesn't care about yours."

Nick and Arthur Knight appeared from the opposite side of the clearing. With them were Kat and Cora. They had devised this little ploy to give Nick and Arthur time to locate Cora and Kat and extract them from where they had been hidden. It seemed this day their scheme was successful.

Rachel pulled her attention from her daughter's frightened glances and started the chant again, this time joined by Alex and Philip.

"In this wicked time. Through your foolish gain. Know only sorrow. Know only pain. We banish your soul. Into this heart of pewter. For your devilish role. This locket will suit you."

The mist grew heavy and Elizabeth's moans grew weaker and weaker until she and the mist were sucked into the locket. The pewter necklace jumped from Rachel's hand and fell to the ground. As it snapped closed, the sky returned to its normal brightness and the haze was gone.

Kat ran into her mother's arms. "Take me home, mommy," she said.

"Yeah, we're going home, sweetie."

The group stood in shock for a full minute taking in the grandness of what they had been able to accomplish. And from the looks on the faces of them all, they were glad it was all over. There was, however, one person who was still intent on accomplishing her one true task.

Cora stared at all their gloomy faces and stood aghast as they started to walk away from her toward the helicopter.

"Wait." she cried as if in a great amount of anguish. "What about my wedding?"

Present Day: San Francisco 

The Angel Island house was finally complete and each member of the team found solace in their new rooms. The house looked exactly as it had before but something was different. They each felt something was either missing or new. It was an odd feeling. A feeling that unsettled Alex who began to have strange visions.

Kat came bouncing down the staircase the next morning after the wedding and smiled widely. "The house smells funny."

"That's because it's new, silly. New things always smell funny." Alex said. She felt increasingly unsteady around Kat and couldn't for the life of her figure out why.

'What's going on down here? Is this a party or can anyone join?" Nick appeared from the front door wearing a jogging outfit, a sweaty t-shirt and cut-offs.

"I just made a new pot of coffee, if you want some." Alex sipped at her own steaming cup.

"Alex, you are a goddess."

Before Nick could run upstairs, Alex stopped him. "What do you think happened to Horton?"

"Maybe the devil got angry for him screwing up yet another mission, I don't know. But I'm not questioning this one. I don't know how we would have dealt with him. He seems to have major issues with dying."

Alex turned back to the book she'd been reading as Nick raced up the stairway. Kat watched them both with increasing interest. Her eyes for a moment glowed a strange blue.

"I have my own vendetta to settle," she whispered, but her voice sounded like that of Reed Horton. "And I will not rest until each of you die." She smiled inwardly and tried not to release the laugh welling up in her breast. "This new vessel will serve me well. "Derek and his team should be on guard, because when I want something... I intend to get it."

Suddenly the glowing blue disappeared and Kat became herself again. She bounced down the hallway toward the kitchen not knowing what evil lie inside her waiting to extract his revenge on them all.

Supporting Cast List:

Elizabeth Proctor...Sarah Jessica Parker

Cora Corrigan...Alyssa Milano

David Laskey...Sean Patrick Flannery

Detective Arthur Knight...Bruce McGill

John Proctor...Michael T. Weiss

Abigail Williams...Alexandra Purvis