Daria: Demon Princess Quinn "Quinn Anwnn"

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You know what... READ THE BLOODY STORY YOURSELF! For bloody hell, heaven forbid you read the damn thing yourself...

CONTENT Violence/non-explicit nudity/mild language/disregard for canon

SUMMARY
A senseless murder sets in motion a chain of events that reveal Jane's startling secret
and Quinn's dark past.

FONTS
Bold = emphasis/flashback
Italic = thought
Green = Magick chant
Green Bold = god speech
Red Bold = Apocalypse flashback
Red Bold Italic = Daemon chants/speech

PRONUNCIATION
Cwn Anwnn = koon anoon
Myrddin = Merth-in
Blodeuwedd = Blod-oo-eeth
Gwynedd - gwen-eth
Tuatha = tooada

WELSH TO ENGLISH
Datod = to untie
Ffasgu = to bind
Gweilch = rogue
Trawsguld = to transport

"The girl is very pretty, and your first action is, "Oh, what a happy teenager!" But maybe that's not the whole story. Maybe that prettiness comes at a price."
- Daria, Arts n' Crass

Daria
in
"Quinn Anwnn"

1

The Fashion Club usually spent their Friday nights spreading the gospel of dating, finer
restaurants, and popular etiquette. This evening, however, the elite of Lawndale High
were at their treasurer's house working on a project they hoped would help them recover
from the homecoming parade disaster.

Stacy nervously fidgeted in her yellow thigh-high dress. Normally she'd twirl a pig-
tail, but her hair had straightened and colored to turn her into a near clone of Tiffany.
"Tiffany, quit hogging the mirror! You had your ten minutes!"

"But I look so cute..." Tiffany responded in her slow drawl. "The jacket makes me look
fat, but the pig-tails make up for it."

"Pig-tails are MINE!" Stacy squealed in protest.

"Would you two shut up!" Sandi yelled from the bed, where she had been squeezing into
Quinn's size four for longer than Tiffany had been admiring herself. Strands of red
hair several shades too dark to match Quinn's tresses clung to her face from the sweat
of exertion. Her long sleeve shirt, though the right color, was plain and unmarked.
"My calves are too big!"

"That's funny, I fit into your skin like a pair of Calvins."

They turned in shock at the sound of Sandi's voice coming from the doorway like a
ventriloquist. At least Stacy and Tiffany did, as Sandi could only fall to the
floor while trying to flip over onto her stomach. Her mirror image stepped in and
twirled around once. "Like, ta-dah, or whatever."

"Wow, Quinn! That's unbelievable!" Stacy gushed in her perpetual adoration of the
mimic in question.

Tiffany opened her mouth, signifying the usual response lag time. "Yeah. How'd
you do it?"

Dropping her imitation Quinn went into her "oh you guys" pose. "Just a little
magic," she answered sweetly.

Sandi picked herself off the floor, though the same couldn't be said for her ego.
"Yeah, only a witch could be that perfect," she muttered in disgust.

"What was that, Sandi?" Quinn asked.

Sandi huffed, turning to face Quinn with her haughty poker face. "Well I can't be
blamed for keeping my naturally superior sense of style. We'll see who's better at
aping who Monday," she declared as she stalked out of Stacy's room.

Secure in her inevitable victory Quinn picked a banana out of a fruit bowl on Stacy's
night stand. "Oop oop, Sandi."



"Stupid curfew violations..." The pain of walking in Quinn's shoes - More like clogs,
she corrected herself - soured Sandi's mood past it's sell-by date as she walked down
the deserted streets of Stacy's neighbourhood. A piercing whistle halted her in her
tracks. Eying the area nervously, she ruled it off to paranoia and returned to
thinking of the most humiliating way she could steal the thunder back from Quinn.

The unnerving sound returned. She hunched her shoulders in anger at whatever creep
was stupid enough to invade her space. "Who-ever you are you should know that I'm,
like, a third-degree black belt, so -"

The whistling drew closer, the hair around her ear floating like a sweet nothing had
passed by. Sweet nothings didn't usually smell worse than fifty cent tacos. She
should be running, but her legs felt like they'd grown into the ground. She managed
to turn her head -

And never had a chance to scream.



The buzz in the halls of Lawndale High on Monday morning was almost deafening. The
weekend was always hard to let go, even if all you did was watch TV. The Fashion
Club always had something to talk about, though - a slow dating weekend could be
made up for with any gossip picked up or created.

"You look awesome, Quinn!" Joey began, getting in the first word from her unofficial
fan club in as they gathered around her locker.

"Totally!" Jamie quickly added.

"Even though you're perfect being yourself!" Jeffy finished.

"Oh, you guys!" Quinn shrugged it off, though a blind man could see this was what she
lived for.

"You look even better than on Saturday, Quinn!" Stacy chimed in, but quickly turned
to fret over the tardiness of their leader. "But why's Sandi so late?"

"You know Sandi, probably waiting till the last minute to wow us!" Quinn replied with
her usual song and dance.

The sharp screech of a hawk broke the hallway chatter, the sound byte Ms. Li played for
matters of urgent importance, or at least urgent to her. After half the school was
blindsided into two days of detention following a pop quiz on her last rant everyone
knew it was in their best interest to listen to their self-glorified "leader".

"Attention students of Laaawndale High. It is with grave concern I announce that your
fellow student Sandra Griffen, president of the esteemed Fashion Club, has been reported
missing since Saturday night. Any information regarding her whereabouts should be
brought to my immediate attention so I may report it to the proper authorities. Now,
keep Miss Griffen in your thoughts as you prepare to learn!" The intercom clicked off
as the warning bell sounded. Rather than a rush to actually get to class it instead
signaled the start of speculation regarding the fate of the queen of the school.

Stacy's reaction would have registered on the Richter scale. "Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod,
I knew I shouldn't have let her walk home alone! What if one of those homicidal
maniacs grabbed her and... ohmygod ohmygod!"

The clique rushed to protect their most fragile. "I'm sure everythings alright,
Stacy!" Jamie started.

Jeffy picked up. "Remember that time she got stuck in Cashman's after closing time
and had to eat a Snickers one of the salesgirl's left to survive? That's probably
what happened!"

Tiffany's response kicked in. "Yeah... right, Quinn?"

Quinn was still staring at the intercom like a doe caught in the headlights. "Uhm,
Quinn -" Joey started, worried her own panic had caused her to vapor-lock like his
car on the way to what he thought would be the night.

She whirled around, her face clenched tight as she responded in a nervous staccato.
"Yeah, exactly! She probably went to the Mall of the Millennium Sunday morning,
since they have that really good salon with every dye imaginable, and got lost and
was too embarrassed to call for help - who wouldn't be - and she'll be back later
with some lame excuse!"

Stacy began to question such reassurance. "But what if -"

"DON'T FREAK OUT, STACY!"

Shock at such an uncharacteristic outburst rippling through her friends and several
passerby, Quinn rattled off another half-hearted placation. "I mean, just trust
me! I gotta get to French class!"

Watching Quinn's hurried retreat, Stacy's eyes welled with impending tears. "But
she doesn't have French class..."

A minute after Stacy's anguished wail Tiffany patted her shoulder in slow reassurance.
"There, there."



Jane contemplated the fate of everyones not-so-beloved Fashion Fiend while waiting
for Daria to finish getting her books. "So, alien abduction or run off to follow her
destiny as a Boys 2 Guys groupie?"

"She was probably arrested after going Ruth Buzzi on someone who refused to kiss the
ground she walks on," Daria responded in a monotone as she put away her economics
book. "I'm more worried about the headache I'll get at dinner when Quinn -" She
stopped as her sister flew by. In the brief moment she passed by in her Sandi-skin
Daria was able to read Quinn's face enough to determine that, if she had heard them,
she was too consumed by the crisis at hand to care.

That was the problem, though. Despite the cold war between them Daria wasn't
expecting Quinn to dance on Sandi's hypothetical grave. She wasn't anticipating her
to be afraid either, though. This wasn't like that Jane had described once her brain
resumed functioning following the night Quinn spent at the Lanes to avoid the puppy-
killers. This was the fear of someone who knew the truth, and the consequences that
knowledge could bring.

Jane, who wasn't blind to this conundrum herself, snapped her attention back while
questioning their earlier flippancy. "You don't think something really happened, do
you?"

"The most dangerous situation this town has seen was that gang of bank robbers
dressed as the Wiggles," Daria weakly quipped.

Jane chuckled. "Yeah, too bad they forgot to wear masks. You're probably right."

Daria hesitated momentarily as Jane walked away, a cold shiver trickling down
her spine like a leaky dam. "Probably."



THUMP THUMP

Trent reached over in half-sleep to throw the phone before remembering he'd already done
that. Searching the floor with his hand, he grabbed the first solid object he could find,
drifting off as the boot Jesse had been missing for a month hit the door with
a thud.

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP

Reasonably sure there was nothing sharp below, he rolled out of bed and grabbed the
bat beneath the bed before sluggishly trudging downstairs. A look out the peephole
would tell him if this was a friend forgetting the "not before three" rule or a
Jehovah's Witness. Instead that peek brought a mixed surprise.

Penny barged in before he finished opening the door. Closing the drapes, she ran
into the kitchen. "Anything unusual?" she yelled as she sped back through and
quickly up the stairs.

"Besides more family cramping my style more than usual?" he mumbled before heading
after her. "Mom's at some ice-sculpturing class in Greenland -"

"No, she isn't." Penny grabbed him before he'd even made it to stairs. "The
family's in trouble."

"What, Summer's performance art attract another stalker?" he muttered while pulling
away. Without losing a step she headed for the back door, beckoning him with three
words he'd hoped to never hear.

"Bring the key."

His body stiffening like a high-voltage current had been run through his spine,
Trent's eyes took on an unusual and weary focus. "So much for sleeping in."



It would be obvious to even a casual observor Timothy O'Niell was a frustrated youth
counselor in teacher's clothes as he took this out on his students in his usual
clueless manner. "We should concentrate our positive energy towards Sandi's safe
return, rather than dwelling on the negative assumptions for Sandi's absence. Don't
you agree, Stacy?"

The anguished bawl that erupted nearby failed to shake Quinn, her furrowed brow
echoing Sandi's trademark sour look. "Sorry," O'Niell sheepishly placated. "I'm
sure you're holding onto hope, right Quinn?"

She remained silent. A moment of confusion crossed her face, giving way to growing
despair.

"Quinn?"

"WHAT?" Her hiss suggested she was ready to perform a tracheotomy on O'Niell with
her eyebrow pencil. Catching herself and ever the opportunist, Quinn clenched a fist
to her forehead in mock distress. "I can't take it anymore!" she wailed, fleeing the
classroom.

"Quinn, wait!" the three J's cried in unison, reaching futilely to comfort her.

Barely holding back his own urge to cry O'Niell managed a shaky reprimand. "I think
it's best we leave her alone, boys."



The smell of burnt clay greeted Trent as he entered Amanda's bunker. Penny was
carefully sliding a large ceremonial bowl towards the middle of the room. "Wind
didn't marry another of the fair folk, did he?" he pressed for details as she
finished placing the cauldron into it's groove.

"You know how they're dealt with, food or a promised union in a future life," she
grunted as a small panel opened in the wall behind her, revealing a slim keyhole.
Trent removed a silver delta-shaped pendant from his pocket, handing it to her.
"This needs someone who was built Ford tough."

"Ford tough..." Trent repeated absent-mindedly before realization splashed him in
he face. "No way. If we bring Jane in it's not supposed to be till she's ready."
Which'll be never if I got anything to say, he kept to himself as Penny inserted
the seemingly innocuous trinket into the lock.

A brilliant blue light erupted from it, filling the room with unearthly illumination.
They shielded their eyes, the glow diminishing to reveal a room half the size of
the main bunker. The dirt floor contrasted with white metal walls and computer
equipment decades ahead of the latest model. Weapons of varying sizes and descriptions,
some defying it, lined the walls. Outfits that wouldn't look out of place on a SWAT
cop clothed seven mannequins. Next to a display case of ancient armor sat a canister
emblazoned UFG - EXTREME HAZARD in safety orange.

"There's a presence infestation," Penny said cryptically as she removed a set of
vintage Red Army Sn-42 body armor and a heavily padded brown body suit.

Trent selected a black nanomail body suit and it's accompanying grey trench coat.
Removing a slender case from the latter, he pressed the cover against his eye for
a second before opening it to reveal a black glove with a keypad sewn into it.
Rather than numerics or an alphabet the pad was divided into the approximation of
a guitar chord chart. He'd never been good at memorizing anything, espescially
spells. Fortunatly a friend of the family had a talent for combining magick and
science. Slipping it on he pressed in a diminished seventh, the glove molding
itself tightly to his right hand. "There's never been one bad enough to involve
Jane. Lawndale's boring, even with the leech..."

Trent trailed off as he saw Penny opening a casket-length box spray-painted SHIT
OUT OF LUCK. She pulled out a harpoon gun that would send Moby Dick swimming for
safety. Painted a dark blue, she loaded it with a gold spear sharp enough to
slice an electron, threading in the unbreakable diamond tether. "We're about to
have a close encounter of the Daemon kind."



The aged steel-plated doors of Lawndale High's student restrooms had never been
good at muffling noise. Whether it was the acoustics of the cheap tiles or the
loud nature of the average teen was up for debate. As such the laborius breathing,
interupted occasionally by a choked sob, could be easily heard by anyone passing
the girls bathroom near the lunchroom. Such sounds naturally attracted curiosity,
either by a concerned soul, a hall monitor, or the nosey. For once, though, no one
was sensitive or stupid enough to overlook the palpable aura of darkness seeping
through the battered door.

The flickering lights illuminated Quinn's hunched frame as she grasped the wash basin
with a death grip. Chips of white porcelain fell to the dingy floor as her nails
burrowed deep into the wash basin, areas of her mind rarely utilized burning with
activity as she orchestrated scenarios for every potentiality. The room momentarily
went pitch black as she raised her head. The darkness receded slowly, crawling along
the walls as it returned to it's source - her eyes. Eldritch rage reflected from a
surface used to displaying her beauty as, in a cracked whisper, she made clear the
one outcome she refused to allow.

"No one's taking this away from me..."



2

"We moved here to avoid things like this, Helen!" Closing the front door as quietly as
she could, Daria overheard the rest of the Sandi-storm she'd been dreading erupting from
Jake.

"I'm sure it's just an episode of pointless teenage rebellion. I talked to Linda and she
said Sandi's been moody lately - more than usual," Helen sneaked in with her snide mumble.
"Probably some boy, it happened to plenty of girls I knew at that age."

Heading through the living room to get this over with Daria wondered if she intentionally
set Jake up with material like a female Bruce Vrance.

"A BOY? I never thought of that!" As she expected Jake was bouncing off the walls of
the kitchen while Helen sat at the table, checking her planner between platitudes. "What
if Quinn runs off with one of those guys that follow her, or Daria shacks up with that
weird cult kid?!"

Time to diffuse the situation with her trademark snark, though when it came to Jake it
often had the same effect she decried in her mother. "Don't worry, Dad, I'm saving myself
for Tom Cruise."

"Daria!" Jake exclaimed, rushing to embrace Daria before she had a chance to duck. "Oh
kiddo, it's so good to see you, and I promise to tell you that every day from now on!"

Trying not to squirm, Daria responded. "I don't know, too much love can drive some people
away. Just ask the Medendez brothers."

"That's right..." Jake nervously released her. "Just remember that we love you and Quinn,
but not too much! I mean, we respect your boundaries, just don't go outside them! Or,
well -"

Helen sighed as she closed her planner. "Daria, please don't confuse your father like that.
Where is Quinn? I hope she's taking this better than some people."

Daria remembered the disturbed look on Quinn's face. With anyone else it would have spoken
of deep conflict, but the deepest part of Quinn's pool only went a foot down. "I only saw
her this morning after the announcement, she seemed troubled." Vague honesty was the best
she could do for now.

"Our poor girl!" Jake declared, wringing his hair in his hands. "I'm gonna go find her
before the sicko that took Sandi gets her!"

Helen stood in exasperation. "Jake, please, there's no reason to embarrass her! We'll
call the other girls in the Fashion Club, and if that fails we'll check every clothing
store in the mall. Then we'll panic."

Believing her part in the eternal family drama that was Quinn was over, Daria slinked
away, intent on shutting herself off.



Jane set down her backpack by the front door and made a dash for the stairs, intent
on getting in a quick run. She needed it to clear her mind before starting Bennet's
latest inscrutable assignment. Instead she was confronted by a sight that, had she
imagined it, would have sent her doubled over in laughter. She assumed Trent's hesitant
creep down the stairs was due to the chafing from the skintight black suit covering
him from the neck down. The beat-up grey long coat was the most mundane piece in the
ensemble, particularly compared to the Power Glove. "I guess it's better than wearing
a flower pot on your head," she dryly remarked.

She nearly lost that composure as Penny emerged from the kitchen, wearing a bulky armor
vest over her own body condom. "It's time to whip you into shape," she said while
examining a universal remote, her movements suggesting little impairment from the bulk.

Trent was still gathering the nerve to proceed. "There's no way to dance around this,
so I'll dive in like my first pit. There comes a time in every big brother's life when
he has to explain why their family's really so fucked up."

Jane waved her hand dismissively. "I found Mom & Dad's black books when I was ten."

Trent continued the explanation he'd rehearsed while safety testing the glove. "It's
more about why we're the Wandering Lanes and the rest of the family -"

"This is as pointless as explaining restraint to a Neo-Con, and I don't have the time,"
Penny interrupted, cutting to the chase their brother was avoiding. "We're sorcerers,
shamans, wizards. Magick - with a K by the way, don't want to get confused with Penn
& Teller - is real and we use it to live comfortably." She continued while rooting
through her satchel. "The price being that we keep the peace between Earth, Anwnn â€"
Hell to mortals, and yes, it's full of demons - and Gwynedd, which was something like
Heaven once upon a time." She wound it down as she pulled out a 1&1/2 disc. "And that
is the simple version."

"I thought you swore off peyote after that incident in Paraguay." Jane replied with a
look asking Where did the second head come from?

With a cool smirk Penny aimed the remote at Jane, pressing the Open button.

Instantaneously a small compact disc tray slid out of Jane's forehead.

"Time to download the truth."



Quinn finished flipping through Junior 5's winter hat collection with her article-a-
second efficiency, moving on to scarves and then flats. This spoke of a girl with
little patience, but the process was usually slowed down as she gabbed with her
cohorts. Today she was alone, and this solitude was making her visibly paranoid.
Between storming the departments she would halt and scan the area, like a soldier
running from foxhole to foxhole.

A color in the lipstick carousel caught her eye. Dark blue. Leave that to the ravers
and goths, her conscious mind snorted. Deep within, however, it summoned images best
left ignored for the sake of everyone.

She thanked whoever had seen fit to give them such sharp talons, and not just on the
hands, as she brutally sliced through godflesh -

"Sandi?"

Quinn jerked around like someone had taken a hot poker to her, relaxing slightly at
the sight of Theresa. "Oh, it's just you," she replied, catching her breath. "It's
me, Theresa. The Club was gonna trade identities for the day, well we sort of did
anyways, but -"

The saleswoman motioned to calm Quinn down. "I'm sorry. I heard on the radio about
Sandi. Are you doing okay?"

"Me? I'm fine! Just trying to take my mind off, you know..." She caught a glance at
the store clock. Near dark. "Sorry, love to talk, thanks for the concern, but my
parents are probably freaking! Byeee!" Quinn ran, nearly knocking several people
coming to the ground.

Theresa could only shake her head. "Was I that ditzy at that age?" Her musing were
interrupted by the phone. Grabbing it, she answered. "Junior 5, how may I help you?
Oh, Mrs. Morgendorffer, you just missed Quinn."



Jane stood still, mouth agape at the CD tray popping out of her head and hoping she'd
fallen asleep in Bennet's class and this was her subconscious' bad attempt at a
Surrealist dream. She could dimly hear Trent calling Penny to task. "Direct approach
is cool and all, but that's ridiculous."

"I've got a shorter supply of patience than usual," Penny rationalized. "You still
haven't heard the wor-"

"WHY THE FUCK DO I HAVE A CD-HOLDER STICKING OUT OF MY HEAD?"

That got their attention. Jane rarely dropped the F-bomb, and she'd curbed back on
it since meeting Daria, who showed her the most effective insults were the ones that
flew over someone's head. Penny's superior facade cracked only slightly as she handed
the tiny CD to Jane. "This'll explain."

She turned it over, eying it with severe trepidation. "And I'm supposed to put that
in out of trust?"

Trent rubbed his temples, massaging the inevitable headache he'd been dreading since
Penny arrived. "Do it for me, at least. I'm sorry it came out like this, but the
problem's really heavy."

With reluctant deference Jane placed the disc in the tray, bracing herself as it closed.
Trent was the first to break the pregnant beat that followed. "Should I knock her on
the side?"

Penny's eyes never left Jane. "Ever try to boot up an old computer after -"

"Oh," Jane broke in flatly. "One question," she started before taking a deep breath.
"Why - wasn't - I - told?" she emphatically requested while grabbing the skin on her
forehead, pressing in one of her temples. A muted click provided weak fanfare to the
disturbing display of her ripping her scalp back, revealing a smooth slate-grey mass
in place of her brain. Purple LED's danced across it's surface, filtering through
the thin casing in an eerie glow.

"Because we knew you'd go haywire," Penny snorted. "We hoped you wouldn't need to be
brought into the family business, so we let you think you were human."

Re-fastening skin that now only felt real Jane glared at her. "How considerate. So
all these years you let me think I was a real human girl I'm really freaking Small
Wonder?" Sitting down, she tried to reorient herself, a process made harder by the
endless stream of information now enhancing her senses and memory. It made her feel
like a wolf with Google hardwired into it's brain. "I mean, am I the real Jane or
some robot Mom and Dad bought to ease the grief?"

Trent's face clouded in painful memory. "Happened when you were nine or so. Long story,
and I don't remember everything â€""

"And it'll have to wait." Penny's tone softened as she continued. "You're the same Jane
Mom spent 15 hours in labor with, the same Jane who brought a cow heart to show & tell,
and the same Jane I had to sing to sleep with the theme from Poseidon Adventure. You
just had an upgrade along the line."

The age Trent mentioned sounded right. She'd woke up one day with a month missing from
her life. They told her she'd gone into a coma after falling down a well on a Girl Scout
trip. Some well. "Some upgrade. What about all the times I was sick?"

"Programming to keep the illusion upm" Penny said as she paced the room impatiently.

"Might want to make some coffee, I'm just getting started. Does that illusion include
the Red Maid's visits?"

Despite himself Trent squirmed. "Yeah, always wanted to talk to the Professor about
that. No reason to be that thorough."

"Wait, who's this Professor?" Jane wondered if her fancy, not-as-new-as-it-felt brain
had a flow chart program to help keep track of the rapid-fire revelations.

"One of Mom and Dad's guru's, except he wasn't talking out of his ass most of the time,"
Penny answered. "Long white hair, bad eye, fashion by Oscar Wilde."

An image popped up with several cross-references, one a specific name and several more
titles, along with a few scattered memories - or were they files now? "Him? Now I know
what he meant about really seeing your subject... where is he, 'cause I've got some
complaints to the manufacturer!"

Penny shuffled over to a hallway mirror, the rush to deal with business slowed to a
grieving crawl. "He called the whole family to a meeting - except you two, of course.
That was the first sign it was gonna go SNAFU pretty quick. I was on my way when that
disc arrived."

"Can I take it out before I go Johnny Mnemonic, or worse?"

"After I show you what worse really is." Penny aimed the remote at her, pressing play.
Jane's eyes went white as a grainy black and white hologram of their mother was projected
in the middle of the room. She could still see in a normal manner, but her eyes were
locked open. It was so tempting to say Help me, Penny-Wan Kenobi too...

"My children, what I and your father always feared has happened." The image froze
for a second, the eternal hippie chicks tone taking on a higher pitch of urgency.
"The Professor's kind heart has been taken advantage of, and it's lead to a darkness
that could engulf the world. Whatever our problems with the Mancers in the past
they're the only ones who can help you against the coming darkness." Another moments
interruption followed before Amanda's voice returned to it's often frustrating serenity.
"I pray I will see you again, and I hope that we've prepared you for the greatest test
of all." The message over, Penny collected the hard copy of what could be their mother's
epitaph as the tray slid out of Jane's head.

Now Trent was thrown for a loop. "Hold on, Mom wants us to go the Mancers?"

"You make it sound like that's a bad idea." A lot of files popped up at that name, a
generic term applied to a loose-knit organization founded to regulate magick within
their own territories and protect the legacy of the gods. There were gods too? What
next, unicorns? Oh... Trent's reluctance had some validity - their history was
anything but spotless, not to mention a fixation on apocalypse.

"For once I'd agree with Mom, if it wasn't too late." Penny's bittersweet tone quickly
turned cancer-serious. "I don't know what happened to her, Dad, or Wind, because when
I got to the Professor's house there wasn't even a hole in the ground. They're probably
hiding in Gwynedd licking their wounds," she trailed off lamely.

"Try a psychic bulletin?" he suggested.

Jane couldn't help but visualize a newspaper headline out of a movie montage - LANE
FAMILY MISSING IN SINISTER UNDERWORLD PLOT. "What about Summer and the kids?"

If it had been physically possible Penny's eyes would have done a full orbit. "We
never got a hold of her, big shock there. Courtney and Adrian are at the Cardiff
embassy, best security magick can afford."

Trent eyed their surroundings nervously. "So why haven't we been ambushed by ghouls
yet?"

"Daemons are like cats, they love to toy with their prey, and the Princess wrote the
instruction manual."

That was where the Encyclopedia Cybertanica went silent. Not at Daemons - whatever
the pronunciation there were several volumes on them, but the regal title Penny
used was bringing up as many hits as a Beatles search. "Wait a cotton-
picking minute, who is the Princess? What the hell is going on?"

As if out of a clichéd movie thunder crashed as Penny turned to Jane, her face set in
fear tempered with determination to see this through to the bitter end. "If we don't
act fast hell is about to go on, and at the center of it will be Quinn Morgendorffer."



Daria stared at the monitor. A missing person story should take the muse to some
pretty dark places, but nothing was coming. Conscience? If something had happened
to Sandi she really was sorry, but she didn't feel the need to mope about in an
existential funk. She would mourn her immediate family, Jane, and a few others, but
she wasn't going to dwell on someone she barely knew and didn't even like.

She had only seen a few dead bodies. All it told her was that death was death, the
body a shell. If there was anything that survived beyond that husk she didn't know,
and if that beyond included eternal paradise or torment, reincarnation, or nothing
she didn't care. There was only one way to find out. Until then she'd do the best
she could. End of that story.

So why couldn't she write?

The phone rang. Hoping it might be Jane with some much needed diversion, she picked
it up. "Morgendorffer Morgue, you stab 'em we slab 'em."

"Daaaria, what did I say about answering the phone like that?" Quinn whined.

"You say a lot of things. It's at my discretion whether to listen or not," Daria
responded as she started a game of computer Solitaire.

"Whatever, just tell Mom and Dad not to freak out, I'm at Stacy's and she's going
through the roof as usual. I'll be back by curfew."

"I'd get back soon," Daria suggested. "Dad's ready to call the National Guard, and
Mom's poker face is betraying similar thoughts."

"Puh-leez, Sandi probably went to visit that out of town boyfriend she's always
bragging about! Did I tell you about that?"

"If I want inane gossip I'll look through your Val collection." Hanging up, she
decided to avoid the block by reading Penetrating Wagner's "Ring".



"If I want inane gossip I'll look through your Val collection."

Quinn tossed the toilet paper roll to the disgusting gas bathroom floor as Daria
hung up. "Yeah, and if I want to remember how a killer thinks I'll spend a night in
your room." Reaching for the door handle, she recoiled momentarily. Taking a deep
breath, she kicked it open instead. The shadow of the derelict gas station, crumbling
under the indifference of age and passed by progress, covered her as she emerged.
Taking the sidewalk leading to the cleaner avenues of Stacy's neighborhood, the
increasingly heavy patter of rain accentuated her mood.

"Good, I felt too dry."



Jane failed to suppress a laugh at the "bombshell" Penny had just dropped. Nothing came
up but her own memories of a girl who was like press-on nails on a chalkboard. "Okay,
stop me if I'm filling in too many blanks. Our family is missing and presumed... worse
than missing, causing you to crash in and casually drop a revelation that's left me
questioning my very existence, and it's all because of Quinn?" While delivering her
spiel of disbelief she had performed a refined search through her metal - correction,
high-density plastic - mind. This is getting disturbingly easy, she thought as the
list formed. Q, Queztlcoatl, the Qwertyuiop Option... "Nope, no Quinn Morgendorffer,
Destroyer of Worlds."

In response Penny thrust that day's paper into Jane's hands. "POPULAR LOCAL GIRL
MISSING - please, Quinn's a Morgendorffer, she'd bribe someone... wait, how do you
know she knows Sandi?"

"I do my research the old fashioned way," she retorted, grabbing the paper back and
tossing it into a bin. "There's a lot you don't know about your friend's sister, and
maybe your friend."

"You're not suggesting Daria's... no," Jane finished firmly, standing. "Maybe I've
been oblivious to a lot of things, like the fact I was manufactured in Korea, but I
know Daria!"

Trent, toying with his keypad, backed Jane up. "Daria's probably as in the dark as us.
I'm not that oblivious to not notice something wasn't right about Quinn."

"Double negative, so you're as oblivious as usual," Penny sniped. In a more even tone
she gave Jane an explanation. "The Princess was a Daemon who nearly destroyed the
world in the last apocalypse half a million years ago. She fooled the Professor into
thinking she'd gone straight and he helped her reincarnate."

"What a surprise, a friend of our parents was just as clueless..." She could still joke
about them if they were alive. "So what is her diabolical scheme, assuming you're not
re-enacting an old Dungeons and Dragons campaign?"

"I need to make sure Sleepy here's on the same page first," Penny said, eying Trent
with restrained exasperation.

Trent glanced up. "Depends on what book you're reading."

Reaching her limit with this soap opera and knowing more was coming, Jane grabbed the
break while she could. "Guess I can make some coffee, not that it'll do me any good."

"It's a good lubricant for you and recharger for us," Penny corrected her.

"I'll give you a good lubricant..." Jane's half-muttered retort faded into the kitchen.

Assured the coast was as clear as possible with a sister who could hear a pin drop,
Trent addressed Penny with the severity he tried to capture in music. "Back off.
We're lucky she isn't trying to find her off switch."

"Just getting both of you ready. Remember, the Princess wasn't defeated, she vanished,"
she reminded him. "She's also got more sycophants in high places than your average
celebrity - including His Infernal Majesty."

Trent paused, remembering there was a reason The Exorcist scared him even with his neo-
Pagan upbringing. "Alright, it is the end of the world, but these things don't blow up
overnight. Besides, we mention Lucifer and she'll chain herself to Emily Rose's grave."

Penny responded with sour concern. "If we can't get across how serious this is then
we'd all better find a hole to die in."



3

Jane watched the brewing coffee with new eyes. 50% coffee beans, 30% caffeine additive,
and a 20% mix of "substances". She felt like she was going through an out-of-body
experience, watching a mechanical construct called Jane Lane from above. Or was it
cognitive dissonance? Even as a robot she wasn't a thinker, apparently. Pouring her
cup, the stench hit her like a highway covered in black tar. "No wonder Daria complains.
How come I never noticed this before?"

"Because you didn't have the bloodhound nose working at full capacity," Penny answered
as she and Trent entered. "Call your friend."

Jane dug herself into the cheap linoleum of the kitchen, a metaphor that could become
literal quite quickly. "Not 'till I knows from you, Red Dawn. If Quinn's the Anti-
Christina that's all the more reason to make sure Daria's not hurt anymore than she
has been!" She was a little surprised at her own vehemence. Her family could be...
yeah, but that was all the more reason to hold on to what she still had.

Trent exhaled the sigh of someone used to such battles of the will amongst the Lane
women. "Janey, we just need to find out what she knows. Probably nothing useful,
but we gotta make sure."

"And "make sure" could mean anything from asking politely to making her say two plus
two equals five!" Something felt off. Even if Quinn was a Daemon - Demons, Oni,
Jinn, all Greek to me... - her evil schemes extended only as far as making her new
servants pay for her way through life.

"It'll be quick. Even if she's in deeper than you want to think she'll be fine when
we're done." An unsettling smile crossed Penny's face. "That's what mind wipes were
made for."

"You know I wouldn't ask unless it was really important," Trent hurried in his
response. "I'd never hurt Daria, just like I'd never hurt you."

Jane looked at Trent. He could be so concerned one moment, as unstable as Windows
the next. Then she glared at the stranger that was her sister. Ranting and raving
at a system that considered her an ant she'd carried this attitude into every aspect
of her life. No friends at all - it wasn't a chip on her shoulder, it was a boulder.

Stalking towards the phone, Jane sourly grumbled her answer. "Okay, but my family
loyalty's about empty, and it wasn't chugging on a full tank before."



The screen was still empty. Daria always started that way, knowing her attention
could be caught by a half-finished Melody Powers story. Any idea that crossed through
her mind was too cliched, even for satire. A girl tired of being stuck in second
place kills her rival. The queen of the school runs away to find her true self. A
love triangle gone wrong. All crap. Maybe their relationship was too complex, as
ridiculous as that sounded, to cast Quinn in too positive or negative a light...

A lost girl ignoring her true potential to follow a crowd led by a shrew with a buried
heart. The shrew taken away, the girl realizes how much she truly cared for her and
is left with a major identity crisis.

Twenty minutes later Daria was five pages in and wasn't letting go just because the
phone was ringing off the hook. It was probably one of Helen's clients. A moment
later Jake's voice came crashing up the stairs. "Daria, it's Jane! Don't take too
long in case Quinn calls!"

"Roger, Wilco," she yelled as she walked over to her bedside dresser, clearing her
head of anger at the interruption. Taking the phone from the cradle she answered.
"Hey."

Jane began with a drawn out "Yo..." before diving in. "I know it's late and it's a
lame set-up - sorry, roach ran across my arm - but I could use an objective opinion
on a painting for Defoe."

"I'd like to help, but I'm knee-deep in a story inspired by the latest tragedy to hit
Lawndale High. Besides, isn't she on vacation?"

"Oh, right, she is, she is..." Jane started, trying to recover. "This is extra-
curricular, she's got a friend doing some Teen Prodigies exhibit at Larry's Louvre
in Oakwood. She needs it in two days and I've got a couple of pieces, I need to
know which one should see the light of day and which one goes in the attic and -"

"Calm down, Speedy," Daria glibly interjected. Jane normally remembered art before
all things, including sleep. Still, she was human like her, however unfortunate that
was for the both of them. "Well, I guess you could bring them here. I'd come over,
but the 'rents are ready to send any socialization treaties to the shredder."

"Sure, that's great," Jane responded flatly. "Meet you outside."

To say that conversation had been weird would be an understatement. No, it'd be a
overstatement, she reassured herself while putting her boots on. You're just being
paranoid.

Paranoia is just another word for how badly the universe is out to get you.



Jane hung up with a sharp glare at Trent. "Think I can fit in a shower before
Armageddon?"

Trent stared at the floor. "Do you really want to tell Daria her sister's the
personification of evil?"

"She called her that a couple of days ago," Jane noted with a hint of wistfulness
for the days when that was just an exaggeration and not the truth, at least like
Penny Dreadful claimed.

Penny paused as she passed by the kitchen door, lugging the Daemon-Killer over
shoulder. "Time to go hunting."

Jane couldn't resist the opportunity. "Trying to compensate?"

"This is for Big Blue, but I'm pretty sure it works on bitchy robots," Penny snapped
before heading out the front door.

While Jane took her time in following Trent internally expressed one of his many
regrets. Should have taken Monique's offer...



The heavy downpour had settled into a light mist as Quinn walked past Stacy's. She
was relieved at the inactivity. Time was of the essence and she had none for
consolation. There was help she could call on in town, but however out of practice
she was a Mancer would just blunder the situation further.

Her long-dulled senses caught something. After surveying the area for any witness she
knelt down, placing her palms on the ground.

The tendril sliced through Sandi like a battle-axe -

Stumbling from the intensity of the phantasmagoric vision, Quinn suppressed a sob.
"Maybe it's good there's nothing left... eww," she groaned, suppressing her gag
reflex as she stood. "Okay, I can still pawn this off on the old Faerie. He owes
me for saving him from that Washu lady and - "

A high pitched whistle snapped Quinn out of her search for an excuse. It reminded
her of Antarctica, men with crassness that made Upchuck look like a gentleman, and
the last thing she wanted to think of. Turning around slowly, she came face to face
with that last thing.

Floating a few feet behind her was a putrid yellow fog. Pulsating tendrils emerged
from it's vague form, sweeping the area around her in examination. Quinn crept back
from the revenant, hoping it didn't know what she could or couldn't do. "Trawsguld...
what's Welsh for Gwynedd again?"

The monstrous cloud rushed towards her.

"Ee-" Quinn's response was cut off as the abnormal figure engulfed her, quickly
disappearing into the rain-soaked night.



The black smoke belching from Trent's exhaust pipe reflected the mood of it's passengers.
"Fetch your girlfriend while I explain some things to Robo-Sis," Penny ordered as they
pulled up to the curb of Daria's house.

"Okay, I'll go fetch my sister's friend Daria who happens to be a girl," Trent responded
as he completed the exit ritual the passenger door required.

When Trent was halfway across the lawn Penny produced the cursed remote from the glove
compartment and pointed it at Jane, a cold smirk on her face.

Jane, who had turned down the chance to look like a Matrix reject, raised her brow.
"Gonna mute me?"

"You could say that." Penny pressed a complex series of buttons with superhuman speed,
never taking her eyes off Jane.

"What the -" Jane's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish chasing the false hope of
food. Her eyes went white for a moment, leaving her response as lost as she looked.

Penny smiled unsettlingly. "Now we're on the same channel."



The cracked white rock wall amplified the fog's sickly glow as it materialized over
a field choked with bleached skeletons. "-p!" Quinn finished as it spat her to the
hard ground. Seeing she was trapped in a pit littered by the remains of ancient
warriors, her first step towards freedom was stopped by a hand grabbing her ankle -
a hand with no skin. "Eww! Get off!" she screamed, flailing her leg around wildly.
She sent it flying towards the wall, only to watch it turn on a dime and fly back to
the pit ground, where it joined one of the many piles of writhing bones. In rapid
succession five ghouls re-animated, running the gamut from human-ish, demonic, and
other shapes she'd nearly forgotten.

The Sluagh, Host of the Unforgiven Dead - spiritual remnants of murderers and worse,
many of them had died at her hands. Their leader's jackal-like face grinned with
bloodthirsty anticipation, the feast of Sandi restoring a miniscule portion of long
lost flesh in the form of putrid patches of green skin. In her condition there was
no choice but to appeal to what little mercy might dwell in these monsters. "Uhm,
long time no see! I know you're pretty mad, what with the whole killing you in cold
blood thing," she finger-quoted, "but if you let me I can start making up for it!
For a start, never wear yellow since you're clearly a winter, and a brighter shade
of green would do a lot to help your attitude. Trust me, this girl I know is into
Earth colors and -"

With blazing hatred the creatures chanted in a crackling hiss that echoed through the
pit. "Pay pay PAY!"

Quinn shrunk back as much as she could manage. "But I don't have the gold card this
week!"



Daria tried not to stare at Trent's grotesquely tight outfit. Or at least it would
be considered grotesque by any girl who didn't fancy unkempt local rock stars. In
spite of recent disappointments she couldn't completely shut out his charms.
"Interesting costume," she remarked shyly.

"Yeah, Spiral's considering going the uniform route. Every band's got a gimmick
now."

"Your female fans should be pleased. Why didn't Jane bring the paintings in?"

"Yeah... some of them are pretty risqué, didn't want to freak out your parents."

"My parents have been freaked out since the sixties."

Trent did his cough-laugh as he opened the door for her, a much easier feat from
outside. Daria pushed up the front passenger seat, sliding into the back seat with
Jane. From vague recollection of the family photos on the Lane house walls she
recognized the redhead as Penny, though she wondered if Soviet infantry armor was
proper travel wear for banana republics. "Uhm, hi," she greeted them.

"Yo," Jane responded with a dullness matching her eyes.

Penny checked her rear-view. "Strap yourself in, it's gonna be a bumpy night."

"Okay, Mae, but -"

Daria was interrupted by the standard hard jerk that came with any of Trent's vehicles.
The cars was a sudden jump forward, which wasn't as frightening as the Tank's hyper-
vibration, a feature she and Jane pretended to dread despite some sensations to the
contrary. "I said I can't spend too long away, not without getting the FBI involved -"

"Hit it, Jane."

Daria and Trent both turned to Jane, but only one got the sharp end of the surprise
of a lifetime. With Vulcan-like impassiveness Jane pointed her right hand to within
an inch of Daria's neck. A half-second later a sewing needle emerged from her index
finger and straight into Daria's neck. The eldest Morgendorffer sister instantly
dropped asleep against the window.

"What the hell was that for?" Trent protested, eyes wide.

Jane morosely stared out the window at the tract homes. "She's been tampered with -
deeply."

"Good to see someone's not asleep at the wheel," Penny interjected. "Simple
interrogation, and then..."

Penny's then hung in the air like a vulture. "And then what?" Trent finished.

"Then we use as her bait."



With a guttural heave the Sluagh swung at Quinn with the flat of it's axe. Flying
through the air she slammed into the jagged rocks with a sickening crunch, sliding
limply back down. The dark specters advanced silently to ensure their easy vengeance
was just that.

A disturbing sound echoed through the pit, using every tree, leaf, and particle of
dirt as a sounding board. The creatures halted, recognizing it as the hideous noise
that had haunted them every day of their torment.

Quinn's cackle drowned out the sound of her snapping bones, arms dangling uselessly
as she struggled to stand. Her head lopped to one side as the integrity of her neck
collapsed. In spite of the pain evident in every movement her mouth contorted into
a smile. Not the ray of sunshine used to turn boys into putty, nor the condescending
smirk shown upon her inferiors, but the near-psychotic glee of ancient rage.

"Ouch."

With a deafening screech she leapt forward, blacklight flowing across her body. The
only detail the phantasma could discern was the red thunderbolt glowing through the
darkness. The explosion, on the other hand, could be seen and heard for hundreds of
miles across the decaying realm. Back on Earth anyone with the slightest knowledge
of the hidden world would not be sleeping easy tonight, if they could at all.

At the center of the cleansed pit stood a Quinn even her most slavish admirers would
die before touching. The long-sleeved pink shirt with it's bright yellow butterfly
stood in stark contrast to her dark blue skin. Thick black horns curled out from her
forehead and over her hair, matching the voluminous feathered wings sweeping out from
her shoulder blades. The elbow and heel spurs, protruding through her clothes and boots
like they had been molded onto her, were dull compared to the razor sharpness of her
finger talons.

"Next."



4

It was like waking up after taking a bottle of sleeping pills. A lot of people didn't
do that, so Daria counted herself lucky. She questioned that luck when she felt the
tight ropes binding her wrists and legs. Panic wiping away the lingering sleep, she
opened her eyes.

To find Jane staring at her like a cat eying an injured mouse. Penny was adjusting a
harpoon Midas would love. They were in the basement, and a few flexes told her she
was bound by both feet and hands. "If this is your idea of an April Fools gag, Lane,
you need to change your calendar." Her voice had become a dry croak.

Jane continued glaring. "I still say we should gag her in case her mistress taught
her anything."

"The Princess has gotten complacent. If she was prepared then the first thing out
Daria's mouth would have been an unbinding spell," Penny speculated.

Daria tried to recall what had brought her here, but it was utterly preposterous. A
feeling of dread she'd never experienced before, Trent dressed like her was auditioning
for a role in Neuromancer, and a needle protruding out of Jane's fingertip. "You know
I'm not a practical joke person, so you can play these games with someone else."

If she'd been able to Daria would have stepped back from what she saw in Jane's eyes.
During the Sherman drama she'd looked at her in dismay. When Daria couldn't swallow
her disgust over the Track business Jane treated her with growing embarrassment. Tom
was another matter, one that still weighed on them like a 500 pound gorilla. But now,
the only person she'd trusted since she learned her parents were not the center of the
universe, was looking at her like she'd killed her family, stolen her boyfriend, and
run over her cats.

"To think this was going on under my nose all along... should've known you were too
good to be true."

Her mind racing, Daria breathed a sigh of relief when Trent came down the stairs,
though the outfit was further proof this wasn't a nightmare in the literal sense.
"Finally, someone normal, more or less. Trent, your sisters have been eating your
Mom's adult brownies again."

Trent glanced at her briefly. In that brief eye to eye moment she could see regret
struggling against fear. "Sorry, Daria. Gag her to be on the safe side."

Before Daria could object further Jane raised her hand, the center of her palm opening
like a camera lens to shoot a glob of plastic-like fluid over her mouth. Trent motioned
his sisters upstairs as Daria struggled furiously with her bonds. Closing the door he
cut to the chase. "Are you sure your intel's that tight, Penny?"

"This is why I didn't put you on watch," she moaned. "It all came straight from the
Professor, and you know when it comes to business he's a serious as the plague."

"She's right," Jane helpfully interjected. "When I look at her it's like an anti-
virus program detecting a thousand Trojans. She's been altered, probably as long as
I've known her," she finished bitterly before stalking off to her room.

"This still doesn't seem right -" Trent began before Penny grabbed him by the collar.

"Get your head out of your pants, and think about what your Lolita's slave driver
has done to our family!" Penny snarled.

Trent pushed her back, an old anger he thought had been contained resurfacing. "A,
there's never been anything like that between me and Daria and there never will be,
and B like you said we'd know if something happened, so till then the burden of
proof's on you!"

"A hundred gods couldn't stop the Princess, and I don't think even Clive Barker wants
to imagine what she's gonna do next!" she yelled, slamming her way out the front door.

Trent stood frozen for a moment, trying to quell the storm. Failing, he punched the
wall with his gloved hand, ripping a hole through the insulation.



"How the hell did I get here?" Quinn stopped, backtracking her path through the dead
forest. It was dumb luck the Sluagh had transported her to Gwynedd when they could
have slaughtered her with ease back on Earth. Then it would have been off to the Cycle,
and with the hard-on the robes had against her maybe not even that. Exiled to the
Nothing if she was lucky, more likely recycled and punished with no chance for her
guardian Faerie to intervene. Why hadn't he? she asked herself bitterly as she pulled
her boots off to rub her feet, grown out to several inches to support her wing-mass.
They were so small and cute, too...

Continuing barefoot she finally turned the right corner, stopping in a small clearing
surrounding a tree that was out of place for many reasons. For a start it was alive,
then there were the silver leaves sprouting out of the numerous branches growing from
it's light blue trunk. Tapping out a key based on her favorite designers on it's
side, a dark purple glow burst out from it's center. Stepping into it, Quinn felt
the familiar sensation of realities mingling...

And entered Wonderland. Orange light from a mammoth white cauldron shot up into a
dome of intertwining branches, illuminating an area the size of a small classroom.
Shelves filled with the collected bric-a-brac of a hundred lifetimes lined the room,
potions connected to equipment a Radio Shack geek would love bubbling over across
several workbenches. A recliner and a small guest chair sat around an antique
phonograph.

At least that's how it should have looked.

From the cauldron a red beam stabbed up, casting the sanctuary in scarlet horror as
a heavy bell resounded through the hollow. The sitting area smashed, potions and
electronics crackled explosively near the overturned benches, the shelves ransacked
of their contents across the floor. "Myrddin!" Quinn screamed as she ran across the
room, slipping momentarily across a trail of blood leading to the inner recesses of
the Tree.

Emerging in a hallway lit by the faint glow of luminescent roots, she quickly checked
several rooms before running on, only to collide with a wall that hadn't been there
before. She briefly considered trying to rip it down, but something told her to leave
it alone. Returning to the cauldron room she scooped a finger into the blood trail,
licking it to confirm what she already suspected. Nearly as disturbing as the idea
of her friend so mortally wounded - How could an immortal be wounded? - were the
three shadows scorched into the wall. She reached out...

Struggling to breath through a collapsing windpipe she looked down at the man whose
face had once shone with kindness and devotion. That was long gone, replaced with
seething contempt, made all the darker by the long black locks framing his scowl.
"All these years wasted, hoping you'd awaken from the stupor this irresponsible
Gweilch inflicted on you... you forced my hand!"

She watched through burning tears as Vincent's defense gave out, sending him crumbling
to the ground. With his free hand the dark man pointed at her true one and chanted
a death sentence in plain English. "Consume with fire."

The scream was deafening, the stench unbearable as it mixed with the blood of their
son -

Quinn ripped her hand from the wall, wiping the soot off on her jeans. She knew
what came next, having done it so many times herself. "No sign of Myrddin in that.
Maybe he left something," her eyes scanning for anything out of the ordinary. The
few times she'd explored the cauldron room he'd quickly appear, give some rambling
explanation for the item's importance - an explanation that would confuse even that
wheelchair guy - and then distract her with some project or lesson.

He would have died to protect it's secrets. That's what had happened, he'd been...
Shut up Quinn, don't think that, you were dead once too, thought it was over but it
wasn't, not till you prove them wrong and him right, he wouldn't abandon you or
anyone, that's what you did, not him -

She needed to focus on something stop her navel-gazing, though it was a cute navel.
The adrenaline was fading, the march through the dead glenn catching up with her.
She leaned on the cauldron for support -

The room was as it should be, a lived-in mess rather than a bloody one. Myrddin
faced her from the other side of the cauldron, as imposing, frail, weary, and alive
as she remembered - a mass of contradictions contained in a purple robe embroidered
with that odd silver symbol. "Quinn, if you are seeing this then the worst has
happened. My premonitions show the Mancers have learned you're alive. Everything
you cherish is at stake, and I can't bail you out this time." He paused, glancing
around in brief alarm with his good eye. "I'm sorry for the suddenness of this,
but my vision isn't what it used to be. The Lanes are on their way and Jane will be
activated, though the Mancers will undoubtedly take the opportunity to pick those
old thorns from their side. If worse comes to worst you may need Daria's help. I
hate to involve a mortal, but her intellect and judgement could provide the balance
I may be incapable of offering."

Reeling from his mile-a-minute delivery she jumped as he placed his hand on her
shoulder in displaced reassurance. "All I ask is that you never give up, as I nearly
did before you showed me losing everything isn't the end of the world. It will get
worse before it gets better, but I believe you can persevere. If you do then you'll
not only show you're more than the Demon Princess, you'll prove who you really are
- Quinn."

The vision fading from her mind's eye, Quinn paced around the cauldron. "He's over-
reacting. A little looksy will prove Sandi and the Lanes were unlucky shots, then a
locator spell on him, and by this time tomorrow I'll be on my first consolation date!"
Stretching her open palm over the water, she intoned "Show Jake and Helen."

Jake stalked around the kitchen like Cloeseau with anger management issues, pounding
his fist on a counter while Helen dialed her cell phone with angered determination.
"I told you we should've put pad locks on their doors!"

"Jake, stop it!" Helen practically screamed. "It's only been a few months since that
episode with your heart, the last thing I need is for you to hit your head on the
island when you collapse! We'll find Quinn AND Daria, and when we do they'll long
for Family Court!" The tremor in her voice, though, showed there was more fear than
rage.

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "Daria too?" She shook her head. "One crisis at a time."
Touching the water with her palm, she intoned "Sleep."

Helen's intense frustration collapsed like an imploding building. It was a Herculean
effort just to close her phone and rest her head on the table, Jake's snoring from
the floor less of an intrusion than usual.

"You'll thank me for the extra sleep, Mom," Quinn smiled. Waving her hand over the
crucible, she gave another order. "Show Morgendorffer house." The water rippled as
the view switched to the exterior of the home she had sought for millennia. "Block
entrance from all but Quinn and Daria," Quinn uttered, a black light enveloping the
house in response. Now came the hard part. She needed to know what had happened to
Daria, even if it was a fate worse than Sandi's. "Let's hope one of my oldest wishes
hasn't come true... show Daria."

The view switched to the Lane basement, showing the bound and gagged Daria. After
sighing in relief, Quinn couldn't resist a sly smirk. "If she was wearing less
clothing it'd confirm the rumors. Reveal thoughts." Daria's thoughts began rolling
across the water in the font Quinn had seen in one of her spy stories.

"Okay, my friend's treating me like I've collaborated with terrorists, Trent's aloofness might
cost me more than a grade, and they all sound like they've read too much Tolkien. What
did I forget? oh yeah, Jane's shooting plastic from her hands."

With a faux British accent Quinn repeated one of her mentor's many pronouncements.
"Of all people you can trust the Lanes my perfect ass!" she mocked. "Sleep, Daria."



Jane sat on her bed, radiating white-hot betrayal. It took a while to sink in, not
surprising given the lingering shock regarding her true nature and the animosity she
held towards the source of the accusation. Once it did she wondered how she'd been
so blind. Daria was every bit as elitist and cruel as her Daemon sister. She'd
barely batted an eye when another human life was taken. No admission of insensitivity,
it was just little old Jane over-reacting.

When she started spending more time with a guy and pursuing an interest that fell in
an area the Cynic Queen had no time for she'd acted like a petulant little brat whose
mommy dared to look away for a minute. Maybe Evan did turn out to be a jerk, but
with that attitude could he be blamed? She said it was the principle, it always was
with her. No room for compromise, for her or anyone else.

Then one night she met a guy who, as it turned out, was a more well-adjusted version
of Daria. Worse, even as she gave him every reason to, Tom never denounced her.
For undergoing a constant state of torment he had the patience of a saint. Then
again there was that time they spent together at the parade, what was that about?
They even had a private joke, that was always a bad sign. Can't have me then might
as well take what I've got, she would think that way...

"I didn't know better" wouldn't cut it. She might've been Data's mom yesterday but
the signs were there, it just took Penny to fill in the sordid details of how the
Daemons worked. Her family weren't the Rockwells, but she could probably count the
number of Little House on the Prairie moments on both hands compared to someone
who'd spent their life with an ineffectual clown for a father, an ambulance chaser
for a mother, and the Anti-Christina for a "cousin". Had she been so desperate for
a friend that she'd sacrifice her self-respect to play second banana?

A bell went off in her head, meaning a devil had got her horns back. Ignoring the
tears soaking her vest, she stalked out on a mission to avenge her ego.



I need a bowl, Trent thought as he flipped through a hundred channels for the
hundredth time. What began as a remedy for the pain from training became an escape
from the reality thrust upon him, and then turned into a habit he hadn't felt the
need to relinquish. It was also the only thing that could calm him down when he got
like this. He'd never wanted to be a violent person, but ignoring life's headaches
could only get one so far. This was as close to the limit as he liked to get.

The family was likely dead. He wanted to curse himself for his mixed feelings on
that, but that could be dangerous. He didn't hate them, but the "Family Portrait"
memories were distant, if they were there to begin with. Not that it had to be
traditional, he'd taken some pride in the fact they weren't. Still, it was hard to
form attachments to people who spent most of their lives on the other side of the
world or holed up in bunkers.

Focus on the culprit, man, the demon preppie bitch who makes everyone feel worthless,
even her sister -

Accepting that Quinn was the reincarnation of pure evil didn't excuse treating Daria
like this. Even if Jane was right, and he had no reason to doubt that, "tampered
with deeply" could just mean she'd gotten the Zatanna special after seeing too much.

So? Tell Penny to back off and talk to Jane. Doesn't change what the Princess did
to the family and the Professor.

That was another problem. The Prof wasn't an idiot. He was Obi-Wan, Gandalf, and
Merlin rolled into one. Why would he help someone like the Princess come back? Even if
he had he'd take more precautions than Jane and Penny's Cable-sized gun.

Jane's yell snapped Trent out of his contemplation. "She's trying something!"

"Good thing we put a block spell on the house," he remarked as Penny came back in.
Doubt was one thing, but only an idiot would offer a hand in friendship to a Daemon.

"I'll check the bait," she replied curtly as she headed to the basement.



"Stupid, stupid, STUPID!" Quinn was ready to hit herself. Helen told her retarded
people did that, following with a PC mea culpa that they couldn't help it but she
could. "That probably tipped them right off!" Returning her attention to the liquid
image, an armored redhead strode into the Lane kitchen. Jane's walk was over-confident
for such a loser, but who she assumed was a sister could put every model in Milan to
shame. "Reveal thoughts of... whover just entered the room." The water rippled
violently, the image on the verge of disappearing. "Cancel!" she retracted.
"Reveal conversation!"



Penny looked down at the bound Daria, beaming with the same malice as when she'd
turned Jane. "Time to advance the scenario, s**t-flinger. You're more than just
lure for the Princess, you're the spark I'm using to start the next apocalypse."
Her voice wasn't loud - quite the contrary, it was as silent as space - but Daria
could hear it. "By the time this night's over every Mancer, Daemon, and "other"
will be hunting your sister's head. Even the Professor, Myrddin - whatever that
fool in gods clothing goes by now - can't help her now."

Daria's eyes went wide in disbelief. What could Quinn possibly have to do with this,
unless Mom and Dad forgot to mention our other sister was Lilith, bride of Satan?

In a dimension to the left Quinn herself was flabbergasted. The second she saw
Penny the standard, subconscious checks had been carried out and come up clean.
There were few who could bypass that, and 100% of them were dead. That 100%
dropped to 99% as Penny turned to what should just be a wall. "Try an uncover
spell, Curse."

She hadn't been called that in an eon, and all those who spoke that insult had
become the first casualties. Hesitantly, she followed that advice. "Reveal true
form."

She watched in speechless shock as the form of Penny disappeared like a hologram,
revealing a towering horticultural monstrosity standing between her and an oblivious
sister. Strands of leaves and meadowsweet flowers rustled across the ceiling tile,
an earth-encrusted broom & oak body covered in briars and vines sprouting a diverse
assortment of flowers. Two daffodil's stared at her with yellow and white hatred.
To Daria the words passing through "Penny's" lips was like the rustling of leaves
on the fall ground. To Quinn it was as clear as the crack of a Redwood falling.

"Paybacks are a bitch, just like you."

Quinn jumped back as "Penny" slammed her fist into the air, the cauldron water
exploding into the shape of a screeching owl. Digging her talons into the dirt,
she hissed the name of the monster out to destroy everything she'd accomplished.

"Blodeuwedd..."



5

Daria watched as nothing followed Penny's ridiculous thrusting of her fist into the
air like a bad 80's music video. What did you expect? she asked herself. The clouds
to part while an angelic Quinn descended to reassure you everything would be okay?
It was time to accept this was real, and she was truly powerless. No sarcastic quips
about that being the true meaning to life, and the likelihood she'd fallen asleep
during Charmed was growing dimmer. It was a crushing realization, her fate falling
into the hands of a woman apparently afflicted with jungle madness.

Penny turned back to Daria with sinister satisfaction. "Datod."

Her binds loosening, Daria grabbed hold of the chair as she stood, planning to play
pro-wrestler -

"Ffasgu dwylo."

A split-second before she could lift her seat Daria found her hands bound again, her
forward propulsion tripping her to the floor. Her legs were free, but it was hard to
appreciate that after colliding jaw-first with concrete. Grabbing her captive by the
wrists, Penny dragged her up the stairs. "Time to update the pawns."



Trent paced the living room, nervous energy consuming him. Jane eyed him in bemusement
from the recliner as she tested how far she could grow her fingernails. "No more coffee
for you."

"Somethings not tuned right here."

Jane rolled her left arm in it's socket like an action figure. "That's an understatement.
My friend's a lapdog for the greatest evil since the Macarena."

Trent watched the rain pelted down on Jane's first sculpture, set out on the lawn by
their parents to announce her genius, or warn passerby of the eccentricity that
afflicted the household. "No, there's more. I might not be the sharpest pick, but
I'd have felt something wrong about Daria, Princess or not."

"So what could "something else" be?" she prodded as she wrapped her legs around her
neck.

Trent stroked his chin in thought. "Penny might be getting bad intel, or there's a
piece missing. Hell, that might not be her at all, wouldn't be the first time."

"Enh! Try again," Jane laughed as she rolled to the ground, unfolding in a split with
the grace of a ballerina. She aimed her palm at a corner in the ceiling, an invisible
laser taking out a brown recluse and it's nest. "A fly couldn't get past these sensors,
or a spider."

Penny harumphed for their attention as she entered, holding Daria like a dirty shirt.
She motioned to the front door. "She's probably on her way."

Trent looked at her crossly. "Is probably enough reason to treat her like a duffel bag?"

"I can think of better ways to treat her," Jane mumbled, though not low enough to escape
Daria's ears.

"In this case it's like the chances something will get done about global warming anytime
soon - it's probably too late anyways." She opened the door with her free hand.
"Outside."

Stepping out, Trent was amazed at how quickly the storm has crested in a few minutes.
Suppressing a grunt of disgust as Penny roughly planted Daria into a kneeling position
on the sidewalk, he made another likely-to-be-shot-down observation. What was it with
me and women? "You sure she's coming? If what I've heard is true she'll write Daria
off and start over somewhere else."

Penny eyed the neighborhood like a sniper. "I'm sure you've also heard demons spoil
for a good fight. Especially Princess, she's uppity enough to think she can handle
some simple sorcerers."

Jane cocked her forearm like a shotgun, smirking. "Perfect. I want to try out these
new toys."



"... Blodeuwedd? I finally get found out, and it's by freaking Blodeuwedd?" Quinn
finished in incredulity, stomping through the cauldron room. "She should be playing
footsie with Woodsy the Owl, not wrecking my scene! Whatever, I can take her easily -
well, probably, but everyone might not make it out. If all else fails I can do that
"thing" - could save everyone, but it'd probably make things worse..." She glanced
at the pentagram drawn on the floor in the far corner. A symbol often looked at as
the most evil mark after the swastika spoke asylum to her. A step forward, a swallowing
of pride, and it'd all be taken care of...

"I've lost count of the times I wanted to run away and spend the rest of my days
fishing or writing that novel I meant to get around to," Myrddin remarked as he
mixed yellow and blue chemicals to create a purple concoction before turning to her
with the ancient gravity he always summoned to dot the i of his point. "In the end
the responsibility of who I am always comes back. I've looked on it as a curse, but
any curse is more bearable than those two words that always come from not doing
anything."

Pouring the concoction into a larger vat, he whispered those words while multi-
colored smoke obscured his lined face. "If only..."

Quinn turned around. "Dumb stupid conscience."

One step through the metaphorical molasses of Myrddin's portal and she was breathing
the crisp air of Lawndale in the winter, specifically outside Cynthia Murphy's home.
A girl in her in math class who'd attended a strict Catholic School before her parents'
divorce, she'd asked the Fashion Club for help on her first date shortly after Quinn
joined. On the second day of fashion aide Sandi had noticed Daria approaching the
worn-down house across the street and performed the first act in what would become a
play entitled Is That The Weird Girl Who Lives With You? Quinn, still smarting from
the day Daria had announced in front of practically the entire school they were sisters,
wondered if this was Sandi's attempt at a mind game, lording that she could put her
back in her place with a fact everyone else seemed to ignore.

A game she couldn't play anymore.

Walking past a window she did a double take, harshly whispering "Mirror!" A fairy
tale-style mirror materialized in mid-air, revealing she was still wearing her old
skin. "Must be my nerves... Hide from mortal eyes!" Knowing there was no better
test for new make-up than in the field, Quinn continued towards the curb across the
street from the family that had become the Hatfields to her McCoys.



The Lanes laid in wait like a three-pronged attack for the rat that couldn't be killed.
Daria didn't want to even look at Jane, the "girl" who was now acting like a Terminator
that had spotted John Conner. Something possibly worse was wrong with their older
sister. All Trent did was make platitudes of remorse while going along with this. She
knew she wouldn't do that to -

Quinn.

Emerging from the darkness across the street her red hair glinted in the tiny sliver
of moonlight that had shown through the storm clouds. As insane as the claims of
those she now referred to as the Lanes were Daria couldn't help but be happy to see
the total of their fears appear. If this was some stupid prank it was over in another
way, but if it was real...

"Okay guys, joke's over! I think she's starting to buy this geeky crap, let's call
it a night!" Quinn's light tone had a discernibly desperate edge to it.

The Lanes looked on in bemusement. The conditioning against illusion-casting the
Professor had taught or programmed into them revealed Quinn for the life-wrecking
horror she really was. "If it wasn't for the Danzig make-over I'd say that was good
old oblivious Quinn," Trent remarked.

Impatient to seize her vengeance Penny barked a command. "Now, Jane!"

Jane lifted her arm, a beam of light slowly building in her palm.

The smell of burning ozone hitting her nostrils, the hair on the back of Daria's
neck stood.

They're really going to kill her.

With a swiftness the Jane she remembered would admire she wrenched loose of Penny's
grip, managing a high kick into the youngest Lane's arm. She just as quickly sagged
back into Penny's grasp, the echo of bone colliding against what felt like metal
shaking her body.

Quinn was as shocked as her foes. She fought for me... "Daria, into my arms!" she
commanded, stretching her arms wide. Flying at what felt like one hundred miles an
hour Daria would've lost her dinner if not for the goop covering her mouth. Seconds
before catching her Quinn shot a volley of black fireballs at the Lanes. Barely
larger than baseballs they scorched away the entire Lane lawn, Jane's sculpture
half-melting from the unearthly heat.

While Penny raised a wall of dirt and Jane emitted a field of compact laser Trent
proved the latter wasn't the family's only multi-tasker. Holding one chord to
create a shield he began keying in a more complex arrangement. It paid off as
Quinn's escape ascent ended in an invisible roof.

Plummeting, she struggled to keep hold of Daria, whispering what she hoped would
be an escape spell and not her epitaph. "Teleport to Dingo Junction..." A portal
opened below, Quinn and Daria falling in as it sealed.

"She's headed for Dingo Junction," Jane reported.

"She's not the only one," Trent replied, keying in a transport spell.

Penny grabbed his wrist. "She's not as rusty as we thought. A 'port spell would
drain you too much."

"She's got Daria!" he protested.

"So? Who cares about a Daemon lover?"

That declaration of contempt wasn't spoken by Penny, who hadn't met Daria before
tonight. It was from Jane, her eyes consumed by a hatred he couldn't believe anyone
in his family possessed. Following them he rued hat he having to sit in such close
proximity to family that had become strangers in less than a day.



Founded by people who'd never set foot in Australia, Dingo Junction was one of the
more secure stores in the mall. At least until a blind spot no security expert
would expect exploded across the ceiling. The shutters buckled, the cameras died,
and the motion sensors shorted out as Quinn and the unconscious Daria flattened a
skorts display. Picking herself up with a frustrated grunt, Quinn tried to ignore
the ringing in her head. "Wish he'd let me cheat like that..." Unbinding Daria,
a firm press on the broken leg ensured her low pain threshold wouldn't alert anyone
three miles away when the real hard part came... which was now, Quinn lamented to
herself while grasping Daria's face. "Dissolve gag and awaken."

Opening her eyes as the goo dissolved, Daria took a long look around her in dazed
confusion. Finally it all came back, sending her scuttling away from Quinn like a
hermit crab. "Little Miss Reality finally out of her depth?" Quinn asked, unable to
stop herself from relishing the panic visible in Daria's every movement.

"You try being stoic after your friend's family play Hostage without your permission
and your sister treats the laws of physics like wrapping paper," she snapped.

"Want me to cast a calm spell? Feels just a long soak in a hot bath," Quinn offered
while checking herself in a torso-length mirror. For her first battle in thousands
of years she was holding up better than could be expected.

Making a test stand on the leg that had collided like a chicken bone with a steel
door, Daria wanted desperately to rule the success of that movement to sloppy dream
continuity. "I want a simple answer to a simple question -"

"No, this isn't a dream! Gawds, you're so predictable!" Quinn groaned as she shut
a display case of cantina before heading for a dressing booth. "I have even less
time for you than usual, so let's get you home and when you wake up you'll think
this was a dream and Mom'll get that home office she's always wanted!"

Everything had felt too real, as unreal as it seemed. Still, Quinn was Quinn, and
the old tactic of holding her ground while she stomped around like a pink troll rarely
failed. "I'll just sit here and watch the fountain until you're ready. Starting with
why they want to kill you and how you put the super back in superteen."

Panic edged into Quinn's voice as she traced the length of the mirror on the stall
door. A moment or two was all she could guarantee, and they'd likely used it up.
"There's not enough time! The Plant Harpy's getting antsy, she'll probably decide
the hell with it and fry you all!"

Daria flipped through a paper-thin pamphlet, basically a Zoo Book written by a Cliff's
Notes writer with ADD. "Did you know you can't ride in a kangaroo's pouch like in
the cartoons?"

Quinn could hear it in her mind.

"Family is a reward wrapped in a burden," Myrddin stated as he touched up the last
coil of the woman's snail-shell hair bind. "The only real escape is a serious karma-
wrecker."

"English?" she responded flatly while gluing neon pebbles to one of his yo-yo's.

Removing his latest work from the easel and ignoring her original question regarding
who the old woman with the Rapunzel hair was, he answered with that annoying "you'll
get this later" tone. "You're stuck with Daria, and I've seen someone like her staring
back at me in the mirror every day of my life. You only need to let us think we've
proven our superiority."

"You win. Reveal true form to mortal eyes," she chanted in a sing-song tone.

Daria couldn't help but gasp as the future beauty queen next door melted away. It
was the same face, but cast in a blue that suggested the deep sea melting into black
horns matching the ebony wings growing from her back. The talons protruding from her
elbows suggested a reptile, albeit one with smooth skin, a red scar resembling a
lightning bolt shot down across her left eye. "I'm the reincarnation of ancient
Daemon royalty, Jane's an android, and that isn't her sister, it's Blodeuwedd, the
black widow of the gods, who's set up Sandi's death and convinced them I killed
their family. Any questions?"



6

Cranberry Commons was a relic that had held on longer than expected. Built before
the warehouse stores and mega-malls sounded the death knell of the shared shopping
experience, the popular shops still thrived, but those were places someone like
Quinn haunted. MusicNation was a week away from close-out and The Sounds had retreated
to it's original Dega Street location. Trent didn't care how ridiculous it sounded
coming from a 22 year old, but it was times like these he felt like a relic.

"Everyone clear on the plan?" Penny asked.

Jane eyed her target in the distance - W. Nolton's outside entrance. "This is
pretty apropos for a climactic confrontation."

"Not *too* climactic," Trent grumbled as he keyed up to override the Food Court
entrance alarms.

Penny's sigh betrayed the hint of an impatience older than a petrified forest. "You
know what might be necessary -"

"I also know there are other ways to handle this, at least with Daria," Trent cut
her off sharply. "That's how we were taught, find the least violent solution."

"Want me to carry him?" Jane offered after creating a command shortcut to what she'd
named the "shish-kabob" attack.

Jane was the baby of the family. A neglected one most of the time, but that spot on
the totem pole still had it's perks, and Trent had encouraged it himself. Tonight,
however, she was acting like a distant relation. "I've never spanked you, Jane, but
the Prof taught me some tricks in case your circuits got crossed."

Too close, the false Lane thought. "Okay, fine! We'll risk life and limb to save
your little girlfriend!"

With that Zen smile that melted hearts in some and grated on others Trent moved in,
striding past Jane. "I'm only freaking out 'cause she's short on friends period."

Fortunately for him Jane's wires hadn't been crossed enough to make her test an
enticing attack called "The Chiropractors Special".



There were many ways of responding to the sight of Quinn as a horned and winged
monstrosity running through Daria's mind. Laughter - mad, hysterical, and hysterically
mad. Running away - off a cliff, to church, to Sick Sad World. Praying she didn't
remember her selling her Palm Springs Cindy doll to the dullard duo, and that she
couldn't read minds. Best to stay behind the walls, even if Death was at the gate.
"What's Brainy Smurf really like?"

Quinn relaxed in a relative sense, relative to the fact a fallen goddess with nothing
to lose might be there at any moment. "I never thought I'd be happy to hear one of
your bon moots again."

Daria's brow raised. "Bon moots? I know us mere mortals are easy to fool, but I
figured the mastermind could pronounce bon mot."

"Hey, I'm the bad side of five hundred years old! I mean, not too much of the bad
side, give or take a few millenia... let's see how your brain holds up after that
long!" Quinn pointed one of her talons at Daria to emphasize what should be common
knowledge, even for her - never discuss age.

"Easy to hold up thin air," Daria muttered as she stood. "I'm more worried about my
sanity. This could still be a dream, and my subconscious is reinterpreting you as a
demon and bringing up my abandonment issues with Jane."

Most of the time with Daria she felt like that bald guy on that show about nothing,
coming up with a snappy retort too late. Finally, she had one. "Sometimes a Daemon
is just a Daemon, Daria."

Daria was impressed, if confused. She'd heard that pronunciation before, but it was
Greek, while Quinn seemed to be an Oni with some half-baked Christian overtones.
"Since when do you know Freud, and why do you pronounce that word like you're talking
about a Wayans' brother?"

"Second first, the Christian version makes me wish Lucifer had hired me as his press
agent. First second, a friend made me read that perverts stuff so I could understand
humanity better. Made me want to come back as a butterfly..." Quinn paused, trying
to steer her train of thought back onto the rails. "What were we talking about?"

"Bloodthirsty gods on the doorstep and my best friend's an android."

"Right!" she exclaimed with a snap of her fingers. Returning her attention to the
mirror, the surface rippled at her touch. "Now, if you don't mind I'd like to go
before I get the business end of a gold spear!"

Daria glanced outside to assure herself she had a leg to stand on that wouldn't be
ripped apart by Jane like she was a bad sketch. "I'm in no hurry, and even if this
is happening you could have replaced the real Quinn when we stopped in Salem on the
way to Lawndale."

Quinn clutched her horns in frustration. "Daaaria, Salem was just a bunch of stupid
girls trying to amuse themselves! Good thing boy bands came along." She waved her
hand over herself in emphasis. "I'm the one and only Quinn Morgendorffer, I just
happen to have once been queen of the world."

Daria raised her brow.

"Okay, I would have been Queen if my conscience hadn't resurfaced at the worst possible
time." Reaching through the mirror she pulled out a branch sprouting Kali berries,
quickly releasing it. She'd learned her lesson after that minute in the Nothing added
a few decades. "Look, if I promise to visit you in your dreams and lay out my whole
life story so you can publish it will you come on?"

"I leave the demons to the anime set, and don't think I missed that bit about "Mom
getting a home office". Much as I'd love to come home without gagging on nail-thinner
I don't like the idea of anyone messing with my memory or my parents." The clearer
the potential extent of Quinn's power came, the more unease she felt.

"It's for your own good!" Quinn barked in frustration. "Blodeuwedd's the least of it,
everyone who's anyone is gonna figure out I'm here pretty quick, and if they know you
know then you'll be begging for the third level of Hell!"

"You mean seventh level."

Quinn waved a hand dismissively. "I taught Lilith a thing or two about space-saving,
so I'm sure she passed it on to Luci. Oh, and if you ever meet him, which is about
as likely as goth becoming the next grunge, don't call him that. Now let's -"

The conversation was shattered by two golden orbs, rolling towards them over the shards
of the display window with programmed determination.

Quinn ran at Daria. "GET -"



Black smoke poured from the obliterated shop, scorched thermal socks and koala-logo
T-shirts raining down on Jane as she stepped forward. "Half-time score - underworld
zero, Earth one million."



Contrary to popular belief they didn't make ventilation ducts big enough for a human
to crawl through. That's what dimensional expansion spells were for, the entrance
behind Trent looking like a rat hole from within the distortion field. He was reminded
that such spells drained like a sink as he finished a swig of Columbian, the grey in his
goatee blackening.

Jesse had worked security during one of the bands breaks, and through that he learned
Cranberry Commons preferred to spend their money on cosmetic changes to counter the
"out-dated" accusations. This meant one night guard sitting at the surveillance banks,
one not paid enough to take a faulty camera in Dingo Junction seriously. Programming
in a slumber spell, he saw it was still the Jiggly Puff song, another of her ideas
he'd meant to change -

The explosion rocked the mall to it's foundation. Fortunately the expansion spell was
good for ten minutes. Unfortunately this meant the guard was awake and moving. Taking
a running jump, the grate fell with a clang to the floor as it returned to it's normal
proportions. Trent jumped up quickly to strike the guard with a quick jab to the
breadbasket followed by an uppercut. Once again Stick-Boy shows why he never loses
a pub brawl.

Now he could panic.



Something was poking Daria. She must have dropped her pen writing down a last minute
thought on the note pad by her lamp. Rolling over, a weight she'd presumed to be the
cover fell off with a thud. Comforters aren't that heavy, she thought before her eyes
focused on the smoldering body of Quinn. Pink and jean-blue patches melted into her
broiled, hairless skin. Carefully lifting her by the shoulders her wings rattled,
bone and membrane ripped apart by gold spikes embedded down her back. Quinn wore gold
jewelry all the time, what was the problem? For that matter, how could a demon be
burned? She was, not you. We'll debate the lunacy of this later.

"Quinn! QUINN!" Daria screamed as she clubbed her hands together to press down on her
heart. At least that's what she hoped she was doing. A few moments of inactivity,
along with an attempt to breath life back into her, told otherwise. How do you perform
CPR on a demon? Draping Quinn over her shoulder, Daria grunted as stood. Infernal
fiend or not, she wasn't taking the chance of having to explain to Helen how she'd
abandoned her sister to die, or at least failed to recover the corpse. She
inhaled sharply to suppress a cry of pain as she nicked herself on Quinn's elbow
talon.

"Be glad we don't..." Quinn began in a tiny whisper, "excrete poison anymore..."

She's talking. First sign a Morgendorffer's alive. Her tackle was clean, more of a
spear turned embrace, and she'd been facing her to the east. Daria took the chance
of heading that way, hitting the wall after a few labored steps. Feeling with her
free shoulder, she came across a slight irregularity that she prayed was an exit and
not a utility closet. Hoping her new "kick first" policy paid off she sent her boot
hard into door.

Fresh air. Good enough. Keep going, hope the enemy isn't the anal type, she thought
as she opened her eyes, catching a few light trails. Who said she was an unrepentant
cynic?



Watching Jane complete her new programming through an "enhanced" store window,
an eon of hatred twisted Blodeuwedd's stolen face - What good is surviving off the
Earth when it's your foe's greatest weapon? - as she reflected on the tragedy that
had brought her to this world of lifeless steel and stone.

There were many days she wished she'd never been created as a wife for Lleu. Despite
his legendary victories he was soft for a war god. While the other settlements were
used to rid the world of an ancient disease, he turned Cian-Ethnu into an experiment
to prove the Daemons could become a peaceful race. This and his other duties left no
time for her to love him as she'd been created to by his two fathers Mathonwy and
Gwydion. So many lonely nights, with only nature as her companion...

Then the other shoe dropped, as the one time Lleu used a strong hand over the miserable
beasts was to ignore a prophecy of final doom - Ragnorak, as the Aesir termed it -
shared by many races. Out of his irrational sympathy for a child he believed had been
conceived in violence like him came a Curse. She began plotting an escape from the
shackles she'd been born into, but it took more than paper to end a union in those
times. Spilling blood was almost impossible due to Lleu's heralded invincibility.

Then the answer came in an unexpected but attractive package. An ambitious hunter named
Gronw had designs on taking Anwnn, the former stronghold of the Daemons, from it's
Tuathan guardian Pwyll. He learned through a servant of Lleu's father Math that there
was a way to slay her husband. She was more than happy to oblige, and all it required
was some patience and subterfuge. The tedious masquerade was made tolerable by what
little time she could steal with her true love. We had such plans... She learned the
numerous conditions and weapons necessary one at a time until Lleu was fooled into
acting out the frankly ludicrous situation before her. Gronw moved in for the kill,
and the sound of his body falling into the river was the ringing of her freedom.

Until the Curse took it away. Because of her spying eye and tattling tongue she'd
endured four hundred thousand seasons of agony...

"You are never to show your face to the light of day, rather you shall fear other
birds; they will be hostile to you, and it will be their nature to maul and molest
you wherever they find you."

Until one day fate smiled on her misbegotten soul. Myrddin and his precious followers
downfall was sealed the moment she followed him into man's realm. Sheer luck began to
look like something more when she found the Curse alive and well in this bastion to
mediocrity. After that it had been easy to get the Mancers on her side. Fear of the
so-called "Demon Princess" was ingrained into every denizen of the hidden world like
a race memory, while the desire for Myrddin's knowledge was merely the pollen to draw
them in. A few empty promises of servitude to the so-called keepers of the Tuatha's
legacy restored her stolen freedom, and now came revenge. The Curse would revert to
her old ways and abandon the pathetic ape standing between her and the interlopers
weapon, then it would be as easy photosynthesis to ensure she was destroyed once and
for all.

After that, balance would be restored.



A stench like rotten sneakers hit Daria's nose as she nearly slipped on what she hoped
was a burrito. Under normal circumstances she'd be happy they put Taco Deluxe here
instead of next to Outcast Video, but that was before she wore a demon for an accessory.
Suppressing her gag reflex for the second time that night, she dragged her non compos
menti sister down the alley.

"Save yourself," Quinn weakly urged. "They can't really kill me..."

"And live the rest of my life knowing I ran like Ms. Li from an audit after you risked
life and complexion for me?" They passed by a trash screaming Fishy Zoë's. "I know the
mall well enough to tell when we're close to the fluorescent light."

"Lights out, amiga."

Daria stopped, digging her nails into Quinn's shoulder. In only a few hours a voice
that once relaxed her when nothing else could now wound her up worse than the term
"sweetie". She held her tightly for a second, but whether as a shield or an offering
she was still debating.

"Just put her down and it'll all be over." She had a point. This was all over Quinn.
The Quinn who turned her into a costume, who stayed silent while everyone else insulted
her in every way possible. She didn't know what she had done as "ancient Daemon
royalty", and she probably didn't want to.

But she was still the girl she'd read to sleep with The Dark Is Rising, the baby
Helen swore her to protect, who gave Jake more hope. She didn't deserve oblivion
until the other shoe dropped. They'd all taken a wrong turn or two, the question was
how many pedestrians lined Quinn's road. Laying Quinn down Daria turned and raised
her arms in surrender, staring Jane straight in the eye. She'd struggled for years
to do that with anyone, preferring to look at the ground. It wasn't a sign of fear
or submission, but a symptom of the indifference and contempt she held for the world.
After years of prodding and "counseling" she started looking people in the nose. It
gave the illusion of eye contact to the opposition, but Jane had been the one she
could bear to gaze into windows that were smudged in most. At least until she tried
to blow her up.

"Jane, I don't care what you are, all that matters is who you are. I know you better
than my family, and Jane Lane's not a cold-blooded killer." She crept towards her
with calculated hesitation. If she was what Quinn said then it wouldn't be much of
a leap to believe she could read body language, and she wanted to do everything short
of holding up a sign saying "I'm not going to attack you." "I also don't care what
Quinn is. Tonights confirmed some suspicions, but she just risked her life for me."
Her voice was flat but pleading - anything more would sound as false as Barch
complimenting a man. "If I was a pawn like your sister wants you to think she'd have
left me to die and high-tailed it to Hawaii or somewhere hotter." The truth about
Penny could come later, when she wasn't stuck between a demon and a hard robot.

She stopped several feet from her best friend. She'd known from the first conversation
in Self-Esteem Class that she'd found someone who at least had an idea of what she'd
been through. That was all she ever wanted - not a clone but someone who not only
got her but challenged her increasingly hard outlook on life. "You can afford some
mercy. If she did... do what..." No win. What was she supposed to say? Take my word
that she didn't kill your family though I have no proof? Something had happened, and
whether it was mind control or familial loyalty Daria knew all those times she was a
bitch were being used to guide Jane down the path of murder.

"Just give her a chance, that's all we ever wanted."

Jane responded by shooting a steel spike into Daria's heart.



7

The spike emerged from Jane's palm like a flower blossoming it's deadly pollen.

I've spent time contemplating how I would die. Not as much as some people think,
but it's a subject that's come up on occasion. They say the best way is to go in
your sleep, but how would they know? That minute when your heart stops could make
having needles run beneath your fingernails feel like an orgasm.

The crack of her rib cage splintering echoed through the dank alley.

I've always preferred the instant disintegration of an atom bomb or a direct meteor
impact. A seconds burning, then oblivion.

The spike ripped apart the muscle whose existence many questioned.

Should've known I'd never be that lucky.

Daria glasses cracked to the pavement as she was flung back several feet, her blood
splattering across Quinn's face -

Her feet collided with something thick, sending her face first to the scorched earth.
Picking herself back up, she recognized Gortmeu by the twisted strand of fabric that
failed to cover her ravaged corpse. It was the dress she'd wished was her's. Her
face, so flawless, was now what she'd called her - a hideous mockery. Another one
that had paid in a way that would sicken her forever...

With a beastly howl Quinn bombarded Jane with black fire from one hand while she
crawled forward to grab Daria. Pavement cracked as spikes shot through Jane's boots
to anchor her down before her shields were breached, her epidermal coating burning
off completely. A frame that any AI would kill for clattered to the ground, her
optics capturing one final glimpse of the world - Daria's motionless body bleeding
into a sewer drain.

"Gwynedd!" Quinn shouted as she picked up Daria. An orb of blacklight forming around
them, she prayed to the only one she could ever truly rely on - herself.



"Inconceivable..." was Blodeuwedd's response at the latest twist in the Princess's
saga. She'd been told the non-mortal was designed to kill her, taking the spear-gun
was only a precaution in case the virus failed. The Princess had graced her way out
of the corner again. But why risk the last of her vital energy on someone every report
indicated she hated. Perhaps there was something more to this bookish little girl...
More likely the Princess was keeping it all in the family as usual.

This was merely a setback, and not an insurmountable one. The Princess's survival
might serve the Mancer's political needs, but it was her sacred duty to finish what her
brethren had been too weak to accomplish - the utter destruction of the Daemon threat.
But why end there? Humanity was hellbent on self-destructive matricide, and if they
couldn't be controlled then it was time to slash and burn.

The android's keeper was approaching. His directionless life would make a good
sacrifice in her crusade... later. The Mancers had been correct regarding the
capabilities of his pretty little glove. Technology and magick were an blasphemous
combination, but in the short term it could accomplish a greater good. The
possibilities danced through her head as she strode off to finish the only true
obstacle in her path. She was beyond Daemons, sorcerers, and humanity.

She was the last God.



Materializing in the Tree Quinn wasted no time, floating Myrddin's reading chair back
into it's upright position. "Be alive, be alive..." she begged while sitting Daria
down, opening a panel on the arm rest. Pushing a button, halfway through a downward
swoon Daria froze like a picture in Waif, a force-field flowing over her in a
translucent wave. Quinn showed her satisfaction by falling into a restless faint
amongst the wreckage.



The smoke couldn't clear fast enough for Trent as he and Penny returned to the wreckage
that had killed any hope for true victory coming out of this mess. When they found
Jane she was a wreck, blank ovals staring into the cloudy night sky, brilliant white
against cold grey. "Amlygu Ymsymudiad," Penny chanted, focusing herself on the scorch
mark near the mouth of the alley. Wishing he'd studied Welsh a little better rather
than taking the easy way out, Trent examined the scene. Whatever had happened it was
quick. The narrow walls had been bleached white, the color blasted off by ungodly power.
Blood pointed out of the alley, marking the Princess's cowardly retreat. No sign of
Daria, confirming she'd gone up with the store.

Penny opened her eyes, sighing in frustration. "She's run off to Gwynedd, of all
places."

"Then we follow and finish this, even if it takes years to find her." Trent seethed
at himself. If he'd gone about this as ruthlessly as they wanted then Jane wouldn't
be in such a state and Daria would be period. "We get Janey home, then we start the
hunt."

"You're half-right, I guess that's a start," Penny snarked. Good, he's finally
living up to that "who gives a imp's tail" Gweilch attitude. "She's safer with us,
even if it's extra weight. Grab her while I transport."

Feeling as empty as the walls, Trent hoisted Jane into his arms. Over less than a
day he'd lost his family and been dragged back into another world he'd struggled to
ignore. All that was left was for him to make sure others like Daria didn't meet
the same fate, broken like her glasses on the pavement -

Shifting Jane as he knelt down, he picked up the thick frames. The numerous
fragments on the ground reflected the unreal light enveloping them and the questions
growing in his mind.



The tolling of the bells broke into Quinn's dreamscape of bunnies and puppies following
her through the mall as she prepared for her coronation as Queen of All That Matters
while dictating the new definition for beauty Webster's had begged for to her bespectacled
assistant -

"Daria!" she shouted as she jumped up, checking her hair and wings - radiant and
feathery soft, respectively. Priorities straightened, she examined Daria. The spike
had fallen into Daria's lap, shoved out by the regenerating bone and tissue. Even
after several hours Gwynedd time the wound was merely near-fatal rather than the
certain death she faced before being put into intensive care. Taking a deep breath,
she pressed the stasis button. Don't make that trip I'll be taking later any harder.

As the field collapsed she blew a white mist into Daria's wound. The cavity filled
out, leaving only a small tear in her blood-drenched shirt. A seconds eternity
weighed down on the room before Daria's eyes opened. Inhaling as though she'd spent
a year on the moon, she looked down at the hole in her armor. "It went through," her
voice quivered, "I felt it -"

Nothing, not even a tunnel...

Her eyes welled as she fell back into the chair. "Jane killed me."

It didn't take a psychic to understand what was ripping through Daria's psyche - the
toll of betrayal from such a close affection was ingrained into Quinn's bones.
"That's not really Jane, something's been done to her. Just don't think about it
for now," Quinn responded empathetically, an often alien tone in their relationship.
This is SO uncomfortable! I mean I understand, but couldn't she wait to go emo
on me till I find some clothes?

Daria had run through every rationalization, every test of the "emergency sanity
system". There was no turning back, no toilet stall she could take refuge in.
She'd been dragged into this by the thinnest of relations...

Quinn walked away, flirting with the boys in their jams, while the queen bee
straddled her chest, spitting on her.

She jumped up and slammed down on Quinn. "Don't think about it? I've been drugged,
abused, and had my heart shattered all because my cousin's some Boris Vallejo
nightmare brought to life! You've never been Mensa material, but that you'd be so
conceited to think no one would come looking for you is beyond stupid, it's f**king
imbecilic!"

Quinn rose with her hands on her hips, a position once used to tell the king of
all Daemons to find another bed for the night. "Don't try pawning this off on me!
You're the one who made friends with the Lanes when a blind and deaf Dirodo could
see what losers they are!" She kicked the cauldron, hopping on her good foot for
a moment afterward.

"Change the subject all you want, sis, you're the one who put everyone around you in
danger!" A thought lost in the fight for her own survival hit Daria hard. "While
you were busy showing off did you even think about protecting my parents?"

"Our parents are fine, a regiment of Mancer brawlers couldn't break my blockade spell!"
Quinn shot back. "At least I thought of them, all you care about is yourself and Jane!"

The last shred of Daria's self-control told her to stop. But why? She'd barely
managed in the real world, what hope did she have when reality was clay and she was
chained to a greater pariah than Judas? "Too bad you didn't think when it would have
mattered for Sandi."

Quinn faltered, trying to retain the higher ground...

Tendrils ripped Sandi apart with sadistic fury. Fury meant for her.

"She's the last one I expected... I would've..." Gulping down a hiccuping sob she
looked her in the eye, knowing Daria could see through anyone with an ease undreamt
of in magick. "Please believe me, I'll die before I make a mistake like that again!"

Daria saw through it, and ignored what she found. "I wish they knew what a mistake
you are."

Blood from the horn she'd nearly ripped out of his head framed his Princess for what
she really was - a bloody horror. "They were right... you were a mistake. I SHOULD
HAVE LET YOU DIE!"

A slap made in Hell sent Daria crashing into Myrddin's Victorla, an anguished cry
breaking through the searing pain in Daria's head.

"I SHOULD HAVE LET YOU DIE!"



The Clychau lay withering in Gwynedd's eternal night, the endless drought rendering
their lime petals a sickly brown. Old in ways that made Redwoods look like saplings,
they were there when the Tuatha came from the horizon to drive back the Fomorian horde.
They witnessed the black fire of a Daemon's rage return the sky to pristine blue.
Millenia after the last gods died they clung on to the last ounce of life in the
forgotten realm.

A violent wind shook them to the root, disturbing their half-slumber. A presence,
long missing and deeply missed, made them perk up. Though she wore the form of the
pink monsters who had shorn and killed them that didn't prevent them from recognizing
their savior, returned after an eon's curse. Another pink beast followed her towards
the Forest of the Storm, cradling a grey lump in it's arms. Longing for her life-
giving caress, they began following as best they could.

Trent shifted Jane's weight on his shoulders, suppressing a wheeze of exertion. So
much for Light-frame Robotic Construct. Must be getting to me, could've sworn those
flowers were crawling after us. Penny stopped, looking back at a gnarled tree near
the forests entrance. "They say that was planted to commemorate Ogoun, a warrior
god who fell exposing a false god he'd been warned would bring about the destruction
of the world," she related offhand. "Sort of like how the Prof screwed the pooch
with the Princess."

"Yeah, about that," he began as non-chalantly as he could, "it doesn't
make sense. Yeah, he was old, but I've seen him take down a cabal of Cubi by himself."

He better not be sliding back to bleeding heart Pwyllism, she groused mentally. "Even
the gods met their Gotterdurang, and he was no god."

Trent laid Jane down to steady himself against the wave of nausea that accompanied
entering the forest, a sickness that left Penny unaffected. "I'm also wondering
why he'd get mixed up with her to start with. Mom said he was a trusting soul, but
he never stopped talking about being prepared."

"You're carrying his preparation. It wasn't enough," she barked, making her way into
the dense darkness of one of the first forests. "How many bodies have to pile up
before you shut up and do the job?"

Trent pulled out Daria's glasses. "I'll handle my end, but not 'till you tell me
how these got off a body that should be ash."



Feeling like every atom in her body had been hit, Daria picked herself up from the
splinters of wood and vinyl. They don't say "taking the gloves off" for nothing.
As the rush from taking her own gloves off diminished she comprehended just how far
she'd gone. How's that any different from what she's said to your face all these
years? "Because she showed how far she'd go despite that tonight," she answered
aloud. You're talking to yourself. Find something distracting. You've gone through
the rabbit hole, enjoy the scenery.

Wonderland needed some major renovation. Amongst the decimation she recognized a
satchel, or rather the illustration decorating it - a man and woman glowing like
the sun, surrounded by five planets. Picking it up, she recognized it as Jane's
style, or rather the near identical method of her father. She'd observed that while
looking through a sketchbook while Jane searched his study for a particular geode,
and then had to endure a lecture on how her style was so not like his at all.

Putting it back down, Daria noticed a smudge on her hand. It felt wrong as she
wiped it off - charcoal and pencil smudged, this clumped on her skirt... like ash.
Frantically wiping her hands on several sheets of paper, she finally discerned the
most disturbing detail in the ruined playground - three shadows scorched into the
wood. She reached out, the traces of a small-scale Hiroshima calling...

He'd run away all his life, clinging like a leech to anything and anyone normal until
he'd sucked too much out. They went on, seeking their half of life, but it felt like
he'd only lived a fraction. That wasn't enough against the boogeymen his family
attracted like flies. Only now they were the flies, swatted against theendburningwh-

Shaking like she'd been exposed to the dead of the Artic, Daria wrenched her hand
back. She'd seen death at funerals but now she'd touched it, wiped it off...

She had just heard Wind Lane's final thoughts.

She duly registered the shattered glass cutting into her knees as she dropped to
the floor. She tried to remove her glasses to wipe her brow, belatedly realizing
that comforting weight on her face was as gone as the fragile illusion of control.
"This is where I scream," she muttered flatly, too drained to enjoy the only moment
of occular clarity she'd experienced since infancy. It seemed 20/10, allowing her
to remove individual shards from her hands and knees in a robotic fashion. She
seemed to have robots on the brain...

The scene replayed, now at normal speed. No poetic justice, no overwrought metaphors.
Just Jane murdering her in a dark alley.

Beakers with green goo muddying the dirt floor, an old ghetto blaster, a broken sword,
anything to keep her mind off that. The last item probably wasn't a good object to
focus on. A splash of cold water could work, bring me back to reality, she thought as
she test-dipped a finger into the cauldron water -

Opposite her stood a tall elderly man, long gray curls falling past the collar of his
ornate robe. His face was not so much wrinkled as blasted by the horrors of a cruel
universe, but this was contrasted by deep laugh lines. Laughing at the darkness -
another way to cope, she mused. His mismatched eyes, one a deep blue, the other covered
by the milky film of blindness, stared through her as he spoke. "I presume this is Daria,
in which case introductions are in order. I am known as Myrddin. I'm thought of as a
Tuatha, but "godlike wizard" would be more appropriate. Emphasise on the like - anyone
who starts thinking of themselves as a god is headed down a slippery slope leading to
madness, despotism, or running a media empire."

From an English report on comparative mythology she remembered Myrddin was the Welsh
basis for Merlin. He seemed to fit the stories of that no-longer-mythical wizard -
wise but absent-minded. He was speaking a mile a minute, understandable for someone
who foresaw death knocking on his door. "If you're hearing this then everything you
know and don't hate is danger, and it's not Quinn's fault. I've done everything to
make sure she lives a normal human life, taken every precaution imaginable, but as they
say the best laid plans of mice and gods..." His demeanor spoke of someone who was
used to having to resort to plan B, and not out of ineptitude. Wisdom practically
radiated from his every pore, a wisdom gained from the disappointment of peaceful
solutions denied. "The Mancers - a loose confederation of sorcerers - have discovered
Quinn's continued existence. I've called Jane's family in, but if you're hearing this
that obviously didn't work."

"No shit, Sherlock," she said, looking at the blood-stain on her shirt.

"To make a brief aside, Jane herself is still human in soul. If they did find an
Achilles heel in my designs and she's hurt you, please reserve your anger for those
who turn heroes into cowards and paradise into hell." The last sentence was spat
in a bitter anger half-directed at himself. "My point is certain people, not just
Mancers, have been looking for an opportunity to expand their power, and using the
old wives tales of the Demon Princess may provide it. As for that... the Princess
was a horror, one I once wouldn't have hesitated in destroying. Fortunatly I saw
Quinn beneath that. She received a rare second chance - don't let them take that away
from her. She has changed..."

"But she'll need your help to stay changed." Daria jumped as he materialized right
next to her. "I admit to coddling her a great deal, and as you know all too well she's
never been an A student in responsibility. She needs you for that, just like Jane
will need you to remind her she's still human where it matters, and you need them to
know you're human period." The aura of power disappeared, and she was looking in the
eye of someone as lost as her. "I'm sorry this fell on your shoulders, but I know
that deep down you've longed to make a difference. This is your chance - don't waste
it."

Stepping back, a hopeful smile creased his face. "I hope one day we can meet face to
face, but if not then know that surviving to see people like you has reminded me of
why I chose my path. Good luck... you'll need it."

She was back in that paradise turned hell. He's just a stranger, and a god on top
of that. He was probably casting some spell during his spiel to lower your defenses.
No. As he said it was all about "like". He was god-like, Jane's robot-like, and
Quinn's demon-like. So what am I like?

Marching through the doors Quinn had screamed eternal Hell at her, she hoped she'd
bite her head off instead of doing a body-swap between her and Upchuck.



The Helocina's growing nearby twitched in response to Blodeuwedd's growing impatience.
"What's that supposed to prove? Princess took a trophy and lost it after Jane caught
up with her." The impertinence of this ape was beginning to outweigh any use he and
the toy draped over his shoulders could provide. "Next you'll be questioning my intel
again!"

"Funny you mention that. Intel can mean a lot of things - status of your allies,
available resources... and how to fool the enemy," he finished as he raised his
glove and pressed D Major.

A sudden fire erupted from Penny's body, forcing her to drop the Blue-Killer as she
crumbled to the ground. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she howled in agony.

"Exposing a caricature who thinks I'm just another stupid monkey. Penny was a gruff
loner who had little to do with her family and thought Socialism was a cure-all for
the dispossessed," Trent began with pained remembrance. "At least that's what's
they told you. They must not've known she stayed in Lawndale for a while after
Jane's accident, wrote home more than anyone else, and taught me to see through
poseurs." He placed himself between the burning imposter and Jane. "Now tell me
what you really are and what really happened to my family."

Blodeuwedd stood, showing no pain as her skin melted like wax. "I told you the
truth, with minor embellishment," she began as strands of flowers danced around
her like neutrons around an atom. "Some sorcerers who knew too much were killed
and a fool in gods' clothing got what he deserved. As for what I am, they say a
picture is worth a thousand words." A blinding light exploded from within her as
she cast off her shell. Trent wasted no time responding, willing as much debris
as possible to form a wall between him and this fiend. Unfortunatly only Blodeuwedd's
body was consumed, not her attention. One of the larger stones changed direction
and hit him in the stomach. A cluster of roots then burst through the ground,
growing and pulling him down to the forest floor in a wooden blanket. The final
blow was delivered as a purple lily grew from his restraints and shoved itself
through down his throat, flooding his lungs with thick ichor.

The light receded as Blodeuwedd stepped forward to look down at the fading Trent,
her true form restored by the undying magick of Gwynedd. "I am Blodeuwedd, last of
the Tuatha and Goddess with a capital G," she sneered as she straddled herself over
the cocoon encasing him. "You will serve as the template for the inhabitants of my
emerald paradise, a world where mankind is nothing more than a distant, uncomfortable
memory." Her voice trailed into the distance as she resumed her blood quest, leaving
Trent and the all-but-dead Jane behind. "Not even the Mancers can stop me now. After
all, it's not like I can be cursed again."



8

Daria tread down the hallway cautiously, the luminous branches flickering like a dying
Christmas tree. A persistent sob echoed down the corridor. She had Myrddin's half of
the story, it was time for Quinn's. Later on she'd figure out the truth - if there was
a later on. Pushing the door open, she wrestled with deja-vu.

The shrine of reflection, the stuffed animals, the nauseating cuteness of it all
reproduced in precise detail. Quinn's own padded walls, protecting her from Jakes
neuroses, Helens half-assed attempts at involvement, and her negativity. "Some things
never change, if you don't count the blue Quinn lying under the canopy."

Quinn tossed one of the pillows she'd buried her head under, turning it into a fireball.
Despite the lack of heat emanating from it Daria jumped as it collided with the wall
inches from her head. For once in your life hold the snide, she reminded herself.
"Look, I said some things -"

Quinn responded with a muffled hiss. "That you didn't mean? Lie all you want, you're
not as excruciating as you think!"

Quinn to English guesses that was supposed to mean "inscrutable". "I crossed a line -"

"Like you do with everyone not named Jane?" she muttered as she turned over slightly.
"I'm beginning to wonder if half the crap I squashed about you two was true!"

Okay, new approach, she decided, ignoring the burning under her collar at those old
juvenile rumors. "If it's eating you up that much, Quinn, then get it out of your
system. Call me every name in the book, turn me into any bug or uncute animal
imaginable. You have my permission if it'll get us back on a "tolerate" level before
Blodeuwedd finishes the job."

Folding her wings around herself to serve as a makeshift robe, Quinn sighed as she stood.
"Don't worry, time slows down to last bell levels here." She stopped to adjust the bow
on the Hello Cthulhu doll Daria thought had been thrown away like the other thirty gifts
she'd given her. "It's just... do you hate me?" Quinn asked with pained reluctance.
"I can read surface thoughts but -"

"No." Daria was surprised at her own swiftness. "I've loathed, rued, and lamented
you, especially today, but I was wrong about a lot today, and I'm... I... I apologize."
Not as easy as they tell you it is to say.

Quinn looked away. "Guess that's sincere enough. You're right to be pissed about
some... okay, a lot of stuff. I haven't bungled this badly since my first life."

Daria didn't know what was worse - the apprehension about what the pod-Lanes had in
store, or the opportunity to hear a first-hand account of a forgotten history. "Maybe
it's time you told me about that."

She rolled her eyes. "It's so like you to wallow in the past. I've been too busy
living to think about it."

"Knowing what I'm related to might help me survive tomorrow."

"Okay, fine, but don't say I didn't warn you - it's got a body count that makes that
hockey-mask guy look like Teletubbies." Walking to her mirrors she stretched her arms
wide, black vapor flowed from her palms into the glass. Morphing into one long plane
similar to a movie screen, it cleared to reveal a large mountain with numerous shacks
snaking along it like a river. Daria joined her, amused by child-like crudeness of
the illustration as Quinn set the scene. "Cian-Ethnu in Vvales, the kingdom of Lleu,
One of the first Daemon Relocation Reservations - political correctness has been around
forever." Tiny red-skinned, bat-winged Daemons popped into the scene. "They were
given to us after Anwnn was taken, given as in "it's this or back to the pits of
Tartarus". I admit Daemons weren't saints either, but at a certain point bygones
should be bygones no matter how bloody they were."

Daria put aside her question about the lack of mountains from modern Wales. "I should
have checked out the Big Book of World Mythology instead of the collected Bloom County.
So when does the little bad you enter the picture?"

"Now." A blonde Daemon girl appeared, cast apart from her kin by skin tone, wings,
and a red blotch covering half of her face. The other Daemons fled back into their
huts like turtles. "They called me the Curse back then, and that was as nice as it
got."

Daria wondered who the target of this so-called karmic justice was - her, ridiculed
by someone who knew not only what it was like to be marginalized; or Quinn, genetically
shackled to a constant reminder of the chains she'd left behind. "Ironic, hypocritical,
rub it in later," Quinn groaned, then grew apologetic at Darai's cross look. "Sorry,
it's as natural as exfoliating. Anyways, blue's were rare and there was some stupid
prophecy linked to my birthmark." She chewed her lip, reconsidering that. "Well,
maybe not so stupid, everything considered..."

"What about your original parents?" Daria resisted a joke about her being torn from
the thigh of Beelzebub.

"My mother died in labor and I never knew who my father was," she responded quickly.
"I had a distant cousin they couldn't find, or didn't want to. No one would adopt me
and they were afraid to kill me - one good thing about that stupid Curse story - so
they used an aging spell to make me five years old and left me on my own. Don't beat
yourself up, you didn't know," she preempted.

"Still doesn't excuse it." After a slight pause she sought some further clarification.
"What exactly was the curse?"

The air itself seemed to darken as Quinn responded, her voice coming deep from within
her diaphram but possessing a poetic lilt. "A curse shall befall Terra, born of
rimordial darkness, dying in cleansing flame, reborn as beautiful chaos." As quickly
as the darkness descended Quinn waved it away. "Pretenscious nonsense. Anyways, I
ran away after a few months. That's how today's mess started." The young Curse watched
from behind a rock while a woman covered in flowers - Blodeuwedd, Daria presumed -
stood by a dry riverbed while a great bear of a man clad in armor did something both
perplexing and comical. Balancing with one foot in a bath-tub under a hastily
constructed roof with the other on a goat, he held a spear with two chained extensions
swinging from it - a small multiple-bladed bladed weapon and a traditional mace - near
his chest as if he was making an example of something.

"I know, it looks so geeky and ridiculous! Blodeuwedd got involved with some wannabe
and tricked Lleu into revealing the silly way he needed to be killed - great guy but
pretty soft for a war god - and..." The illustration took on a rudimentary animation
to better show a cloaked figure leaping out and kicking the weapon into Lleu so as to
impale him. "I just knew she'd make things more insufferable so I ran to warn the Tuatha."

"Who were?" Daria queried. "No offense, but Tolkien couldn't follow this plot."

"Sorry, it's kind of like reciting the plot lines for Ambrose Center - you forget
to take the not-we's into account," Quinn admitted as a packed portrait of numerous
figures ranging from the distinguished to the literally animalistic appeared. "The
Tuatha, self-proclaimed "gods" who came from "islands in the sky" to bring civilization
to the world." Daria was mildly disturbed by the sneer Quinn spoke in until
justification materialized on the magical cinema screen. Scene after scene
demonstrating the Tuatha's subjugation of the Daemons and other beings played at a
rapid pace.

"I get the picture," Daria said in revulsion. "Where were the humans?"

"Discovering E=MCtwo, what do you think? They were apes, or might as well have been
as far as we was concerned." She resumed with an illustration of her cradling an
eagle. "Lleu turned into a bird and I managed to hide him long enough to get him
to his dad Math, who went pre-Biblical on Blodeuwedd. Lleu took me under his wing
as thanks, and my life got a little more tolerable." The mirror returned to it's
normal state. "There you go, end of story and -"

"No," Daria firmly interrupted. "I can try to imagine how painful this is, but
everyone including Myrddin said you were a monster." She paused, considering her
phrasing carefully. "That doesn't sound like the Quinn I know, but I need more than
a third of it to really know."

"You can't!" she hastily replied. "Imagine it, I mean. Even with the pictures you
won't..." Quinn paused to swallow. "There was a war, and no one was on the right
side, but I was wronger than most." The slide show resumed, the Pagan coloring book
style dropped for a more realistic depiction befitting the next event - Cian-Ethnu
was burning, the crude domiciles in flames as the Tuatha slaughtered the inhabitants.
"The easier life didn't last. Came as a surprise to Lleu, especially when they didn't
need a goat this time," her told you so tone quickly turning to sorrow as Lleu was
disintegrated by one of his own. "I didn't stop running until someone made me."

Quinn's worsening demeanor was dashing Daria's hope everyone had just exaggerated
some retaliatory pranks. "And that someone else was?"

A blue Daemon hovered over her snow-covered body. His grandiose horns and long
black hair were barely distinguishable against the night sky. "Sammael, the
cousin they didn't bother to find," Quinn reminded her. Daria felt a sickening
sense of dread just from looking at the illustration. "He'd been building an army
to revolt against the Tuatha. Those in Cian-Ethnu became martyrs... and I became
more," she resumed as a demonic brigade descended on a Tuathan settlement, showing
little mercy, while a black whirlwind showed none. Daria couldn't suppress a gasp -
it started with the carnage this hurricane of vengeance left in it's wake, and was
vocalized as it revealed the demise of that scared little girl, smiling with sinister
satisfaction while her glowing scar was revealed for the hideous face-covering
disfigurement it truly was.

"How many?"

"Millions, and a lot of it was me," she answered flatly. "Anyone against us was
fair game. I tried to show more mercy than Cian-Ethnu got, but it was war." Daria
couldn't help but look away as she turned to her. "You can go like I told you to
earlier. Mom and Dad'll be fine, I'll do what I can for Jane and Trent, and you'll
never see me again. Won't erase your memory or anything," Quinn offered. "However,
if you let me finish you'll see I got it all back three-fold." The flicker of a
hopeful smile washed across her face. "I mean, c'mon, me at my lowest. That's
gotta be worth the price of admission."

"You know me too well," she replied in a sub-deadpan. She wasn't sure any punishment
could truly fit mass-murder...

"To the Tuatha I was always a Curse, but I was a Princess amongst Daemons, Sammael
was lord... and our family were worth dying for." A wicked portrait of her, the
Daemonic Lenin, and their three children appeared.

A disturbed laugh broke through Daria. "You married your cousin?"

Quinn rolled her eyes at minor break in severity. "We were DISTANT, six or seven
times removed! I mean, it's not like I was that old rock guy's cousin!"

"I had you two pegged as Sofia Coppola and Andy Garcia, but you're a better actress."
So this is what desensitization feels like.

"It was perfect for a while," Quinn resumed with some wistfulness as victory after
victory over the godlings played. "We were really taking it to the Tuatha. Then
that while stretched for years." An image of her alone in a burning village formed,
her voice as fatigued as her old self seemed. "I just kept going through the motions."

She knew there was something else boiling beneath the surface. The first impression
of her brother-in-law once removed by reincarnation was gnawing at her. "What broke
the pattern?"

"Her," she pointed as the scene changed to showcase a human girl cowering in the snow
before the mighty and terrible Demon Princess. "That made me start thinking, but I've
never been a brain. The big things always fell to someone else." Another Daemon
emerged, yellow reptilian eyes gleaming with cunning determination. His silver hair
contrasted his deep red skin, bat-like wings serving as a cloak. "Lucifer was one of
our best soldiers. He got Lilith on his side - we were pretty tight - and together
they figured out the truth."

The slaughter of Cian-Ethnu replayed, but the veil was lifted to reveal it had been
Daemons slaughtering Daemons. Sammael himself was Lleu's true murderer. "I know, it
seems so obvious now..." she trailed off in embarrassment.

To say she could relate would be grotesque simplification - how could you compare a
stereotypical musician to a monster that turned the one he supposedly loved above all
else into a weapon? No wonder she treats her throngs like packing tissue.

"I knew what had to be done, but I couldn't. So I took some me time." The Princess
stood atop a waterfall in a tropical forest. "Until I found out it wasn't just me
there." Myrddin, slightly younger than she'd seen but still the worse for wear,
towered over the shocked Princess.

"What is he?" Daria asked.

"Hard to explain - well, harder than usual," she answered hesitantly. "Easier to let
you see it for yourself." The images began to move...

Quinn, or rather the Princess, was flat on the ground, struggling against an invisible
weight. She lifted her head carefully, afraid her neck would break from the strain.
Myrddin towered above her, his greying brown curls like the scales of justice. A
burning light flowed through what many would misjudge as a frail body, searing into her
soul and holding her in place.

"What are you?" the Princess whispered in abject terror.

"I could be your best friend, or your worst enemy. Choose wisely."

The image froze as Quinn resumed. "I hate remembering him like that, but he hated
being that way even worse - least that's what he said. Scary Myrddin only popped up
when he was really mad, most of the time he just gave off this "trustworthy" vibe -
well, more trustworthy than 99% of the people I've ever known," she excused. The
disturbed remembrance evaporated in a half-laugh. "He bluffed his way into the Tuatha,
laid down a masterplan to end the war, and treated me like a person, not a blemish,"
she reminisced over a momentary return to the earlier childish illustrations, this
one of a comically exaggerated Myrddin screaming at the Tuatha while the Princess
cowered behind him. "He made me take responsibility."

"Where has he been all my life?"

Quinn's laugh became one of superiority. "Come to think of it, he said you two were
a lot alike - in a bad way."

"So I have the negative qualities of a god. Still better than pretending to be a
princess among rabble," she shot back.

"Okay, I do love the attention, but at least people like me for a more positive reason
now!" Quinn defended herself. "They worshiped me out of fear back then, now they
admire me for beauty - all of it natural, thank you very much!"

This could lead down some ugly old alleys, so she decided to return to the Apocalypse
Cliff Notes. "So a god took pity on you. What's next?"

"We hooked up with Lucifer's uprising." The drawing shifted to Lucifer leading an
armada against Sammael's horde. "Myrddin and the Tuatha saw to everything else's
survival by splitting the world into three realms. Anwnn for Daemons, Gwynedd for
Tuatha, and Earth for humans - Myrddin's favorites. Meanwhile, I took care of problems
at home." The mirrors turned to a panorama of her strangling Sammael over a flooded
Earth. "We ended the ice age, that's how bad it got. Had to time it just right -"

"What about your children?"

The mirrors went blank as Quinn froze.

Smooth one, Morgendorffer. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. It's..." What, killing
your kids is okay? Calling Susan Smith... "I mean, you don't have -"

"I really did try..." she whispered, a tear falling from her unmarked eye. "Someone
saved me the trouble of killing my daughter Alsina. My oldest, Llygus, died saving
me from Kohrd after she, I mean that thing..." Quinn trailed, an insane hatred twisting
her face at the memory of a person Daria assumed was best forgotten. "Like I said,
three-fold. As for Sammael..." She turned to Daria, her eyes pitch black. "He is
nothing."

While a chill from Quinn's sepulchral proclamation rushed down Daria's spine the
mirrors returned to normal. "Should've been nothing for me too, but I survived."
Quinn finished as she sat on her bed. "Guess Myrddin's talk about second chances
sank in. I got some much needed beauty sleep. and he helped me start over. That's
the end, I swear."

Start over or put aside, Daria wondered. Quinn might have an altar in her heart for
Myrddin, but even if he wasn't Bobby Fischer there was still a game to begin with,
and he was knee-deep in it. "I wonder why."

"Don't turn that sour face on him!" Quinn protested, rising to face Daria. "You
heard him yourself, he's not a god - that's why I let him help! This isn't his fault,
it's -"

"Everybody's. It's yours for passing off responsibility to others - Sammael, Myrddin,
even Mom and Dad. Then there's Blodeuwedd and the Mancers, who've can't let the
ancient past go, and I should've started listening the second you looked like you'd
been dipped in blue raspberry Kool-Aid. Nothing can wash the blood from your hands,
but if the horns were on my head..." The very idea of such power was unfathomable,
but it's uses weren't. She couldn't say if she'd step back from using it now, even
with a life that was Sesame Street compared to Quinn's original childhood. Then there
was parenthood, something she woke up in a cold sweat over. "I admit it, I got lucky.
You, on the other hand, worked for everything."

Quinn shifted uneasily. "Do you think so? 'Cause I mean sometimes it feels like
I've led a charmed life - this life, I mean."

"Easy as it might be to blame it on some godly hand there's too much evidence you've
put more into being likable and popular than anyone should. Now I know why."

Quinn glanced briefly at the bulletin board near the mirror, with her freshman year's
Club photo still pinned up. "I really didn't mean for Sandi - anyone, really - to
get mixed up in this. I thought it was over!" she emphasized with her hands.
"Blodeuwedd was ancient history, the rest of the Tuatha died centuries ago, and the
Mancers are so boring! I followed Myrddin to one meeting, all it was about was
zoning and organizing the next pancake breakfast!"

Daria looked down at her boots. "You've moved on, but there are those who can't let
go of the past. Take it from someone who knows."

"It can't be that easy," Quinn responded with uneasy suspicion.

"I don't forget easily," Daria corrected. "Consider that the Brain's Curse. I can't
forget everything you showed me, but I can put it aside." There were still so many
unanswered questions, but they'd have to wait. "For a history I never knew, for my
survival and maybe the world's, and for my family."

Quinn looked up at her often confusing sister, her eyes watering. "That's all I've
ever wanted. Normal life, friends, a family I wouldn't have to lose..."

"Then start earning it," Daria replied firmly.

Quinn stared at her pink bedspread. She'd chosen this color as her trademark for a
reason - it was the opposite of everything she used to be. She wondered if the darkness
creeping into it's corners was a trick of the eye, or the past crawling back in. It
didn't matter. She'd deal with it as she always did - with a smile and a shrug. Her
protector was gone for now, and she might have to get her hands dirty again... Damn,
didn't think about that. How'll she react? "Okay, but before we do anything you've
got to promise me something, and I'm serious. No wisecracks."

"Okay, Serious."

Ignoring that Quinn continued. "I'm pretty sure I can get all of us out of this...
50-50 sure. Maybe 49-51, anyways it's gonna be tough, and -"

"Don't consider this a backtrack on the whole responsibility bit - that's life advice
- but you said Old Scratch owes you," Daria pointed out. "Why not call that favor
in?"

"Because it'd be like the President pardoning Charles Manson! Luci can't step on
Earth soil without having it signed in triplicate! Even if Blodeuwedd was stupid
enough to follow us here where I can go nuclear, well as much as I can now - come
to think of it, that is the point! There's no one I can call for help, and if
she's as strong as she used to be then there might be just one way to finish this!"
She stopped, not to catch her breath, but to consider how to phrase the explanation
Daria would no doubt demand.

"And the problem is?"

"More like problems. A - I'm not sure I can, it was the first power Myrddin would
block even in case of emergency, B - it'll confirm I'm back and that'll just bring
more trouble, and C..." she paused, taking on a heavier tone, "it's pretty horrible."

Daria resisted the urge to tap her foot. "Cut to the chase. What is it?" Even if
it meant nuking the place - this place, at least - she could put aside any intrest
in seeing historical lands preserved.

"When I'm finished there'll be nothing of Blodeuwedd left. Nothing." Quinn
emphasized the last point in that guttural yet lilting demon voice she'd revealed.

Daria shifted uncomfortably. It was as easy to figure out as two plus two, at least
in a world of sorcery. Reincarnations a fact, which means something survives beyond
the body, which is most likely... eep. "If there's another way, seize it. But if
it's the only way... just finish it, Quinn."

"Even if?"

"If it means a better chance for us to walk out of this alive, then even if."

"Sounds like something Myrddin'd say," Quinn observed before turning to the closet.
"Alright, down to business, but first I need to dress -" The light dimmed as the
tree shook violently, as if something was trying to knock it off the roots. "Okay,
she really is that stupid. That's a good thing!" Quinn exclaimed as she heading
out the door, put fashion aside.

The flickering light in the corridors caused Daria to trip over an exposed root,
nearly losing what balance she had regained. "How does it matter where she fights
you?"

"No one can use our kind of magick on Earth. Weakens the Veil Myrddin set up,"
Quinn replied as she flew over debris. "Show outside!" she ordered the cauldron.
In the clearing surrounding their unstable sanctuary a menagerie had gathered to
act out a remake of Day of the Triffids. Ferns twice the size of her wings slapped
the Tree with the force of a Sumo wrestler while a Scots Pine bombarded it with
cones, bark shredding with each explosion.

"If the President pardons Manson in a rabid forest and there's no one around to see
it, does that count?" Daria asked rhetorically.

"No, but there's a big KEEP OUT - THIS MEANS YOU LUCIFER sign hanging over the forest,"
Quinn explained as she tried to discern Blodeuwedd's location in the melee. "Myrddin
caught an imp pinching something for Scox to divine, long story, anyways he cast a
blocking spell against anything originating from Anwnn. Still, nothing to panic
about. I'll lure her away from the forest, should give you long enough to make
a run for it."

Daria nearly sputtered in disbelief. "You want me to stay here so I can make my
escape alone in what might as well be a mine field?"

Quinn made a "simmer down" motion. "This place should hold up for another twenty -"
A large limb fell across the cusp of the cauldron, causing it to sing in vibration.
"Fifteen minutes. Or you could follow me - if Swamp Bitch's playthings don't get you
then I'm sure Jane would like the target practice."

After shooting her the evil eye Daria sighed in disgusted resignation. "Any
suggestions for how I should pass time between now and certain doom?"

Quinn was too busy checking herself. "Damn, and I was hoping to wear my nice
armor... oh well, guess it'll really be like old times!" she laughed before
leaping from the frying pan to extinguish the fire.

Daria looked around for a safe spot. Wonder if that milk crate could work as a
crash helmet?



9

From all across Gwynedd they answered her call. A sequoia pounded on the tree's
base while the bristles of a horsetail cut into it's stocky limbs like a buzzsaw.
Within no time the Princess would be little more than pulp. Blodeuwedd
reached deeper into the soil, expanding her consciousness beyond that of a simple
Tuatha, seeing all of her future domain. She was touching what the pretenders
called Gaia... no, she was Gaia. This was why her freedom had been taken away -
they merely pretended to be gods, while she could have become the genuine article.

Through her children she saw the tear form and close in the blasted blue oak, the
bare princess screeching towards her. Her all-encompassing eyes scorched the Curse
with white light, sending it to the hell she represented and cleansing her realm -

A derisive chuckle slithered into her mind. "Get over yourself."

She found herself ripped from her beautiful ascension, sailing through the starless
sky at an incalculable speed with no end in sight. The end passed over her like
the white sands of Sahul. It took a moment to realize that's where she was, as the
sand cut into her soil and clotted her hair. An attempt to stand only lead her to
sink as the ground shifted into quicksand.

"Need a hand?" Ten talon-length daggers ground themselves deep into her head,
lifting her up. Through half-useless eyes she could only make out a blue outline,
the vagueness returning the Princess's small thunderbolt to the face-covering stain
it once was. "Like you said, paybacks are a -"

A giant cactus leaf smashed down, smothering Quinn's taunt. Blodeuwedd took on it's
texture as she melted up through it, the spurs on her face creasing as she grinned in
thin-lipped triumph.

"Yes, they are."



Daria had tried distracting herself by saving what she could of Myrddin's Alexandria,
filling every container she could find with scattered papers and burnt books. Five
minutes into this endeavor she dropped the over-stuffed milk crate, realizing a
fatal flaw - where and how would she carry that, Vincent's satchel, and three cloaks?
For all I know I'm just saving his receipts.

Pacing around the cauldron, she weighed her options. Make a run for it - straight
into a pit of barb-wire briars. Lift the debris blocking off the hall, try to wedge
open that metal barricade with my teeth. Wonder if this glorified stew-pot is deep
enough to drown in?

She came to a dead halt, watching as the mutant foliage retreated in the liquid
mirror. The first blow against hope was immediate, as said retreat was merely
a few moves back into a containment circle with a large hole. The second was
headed straight through that gap. It was similar to a snapdragon, albeit one
Jack might have found while wandering through the Giant's garden. The ancient
glen's denizens were choked by the thick stems the abomination used to provide
traction for itself or incinerated by the eerie maroon fire that formed it's
petals. Shooting it's roots into the ground to support itself, it took aim.

They say a moment of peace and clarity that washes over you before the end. Once
again they're full of shit. She inhaled what would be her last breath as the
dragon fired...

And exhaled in disbelief as a Tree branch caught the fire in it's silver "palm".
Dirt flew as a root ripped up from the ground and crushed the snapdragon like a
roach. The boiling cauldron water spilling over the brim, she recoiled towards
the wall to avoid scalding, only to stumble away from another intense heat. Fire
rapidly ate through the trunk, sending her to the opposite side while a passing
glance into the crucible showed the immolated branch cleaving an inferno through
the rabid plants. A sudden dip sent her to the floor, the satchel cushioning
her fall. Crawling up for another view, she saw dirt followed by a brief patch
of sky - briefly because of the tumble she was taking into molasses-like darkness.

The drop reminded her of one of those stupid elementary school field days, with
chirpy instructors offering rehearsed "encouragement" as she fell from the monkey
bars face first into the sand, Quinn snickering all the while. A cacophony of shrill
screams brought her back to reality. She turned over to see the Tree systematically
ripping apart Blodeuwedd's pets. While extinguishing it's limb in a tank-sized bush
the Tree twisted a mulberry's limb into it's own trunk, causing it to explode in a
shower of horse apples. Knowing better than to linger she'd half-lifted her foot
when a wolfsbane shot forth, wrapping her neck in a vice grip. Within a few seconds
her eyes felt ready to pop -

After gulping down as much air as possible Daria squinted open her eyes. Lying
around her were several pieces of a very dead vine while the Tree hovered nearby,
what remained of it's foliage glowing despite the absence of moonlight in the
eternal darkness of Gwynedd's sky. "Uhm, thanks," she managed to croak while
rubbing her throat. The Tree responded with a gesture of one of it's smaller
limbs, pointing towards the forest as it strode off. Running to catch up with
Myrddin's mobile home she hoped her head didn't explode before she found a rabbit
hole home.



Blodeuwedd watched in amusement as Quinn, contained in a Golden Lily, stumbled blindly
around the Iron Gardens of Amatsumara. An attempt to ram her horns through the
impenetrably thick petals only left her dazed. Can't black out, eggplants what's in.
Surprised she hasn't used that...

"To think I dreamed of this battle. Seeing how easily Myrddin went down should have
told me otherwise," Blodeuwedd mocked as something large and sharp prodded Quinn from
behind. Between the crash landing and being mistaken for Miracle-Gro she'd only had
enough time to discern their general location. It was a garden in name only, the
Tuathan blacksmith's deadly weapons reduced to rubble long ago by Sammael. But he
never was thorough, I had to do the cleaning... With leering cruelty Blodeuwedd
finished her gloating. "All it took was the twist of a double-bladed knife, and he
bled like a stuck pig."

Momentarily tripping forward to maintain the illusion, Quinn somersaulted backwards
in a blind leap. Success ripped into her side as the impact tore a hole through the
death pod. Squeezing a blistered arm out, her agony was vocalized as a faint whisper.

"smash."

Every shard and fragment in the vicinity began lacerating Blodeuwedd with the speed of
an Uzi. Raising a shield of petrified wood from deep beneath the soil, this proved as
useless as brandishing a sheet of paper to deflect a bullet. Spewing water from her
xerophyte-enhanced body, she opened her Selene flower eyes just in time to see Quinn's
fist.

Splattering across the plain like a ripe pumpkin, Blodeuwedd used her last conscious
thought to transfer that consciousness into a spur flying off her body. Burrowing
deep into the ground, unconscious instinct sent her on a race back to the ground zero
of her apocalypse.

Quinn cursed in a language she'd barely bothered to learn when it mattered. A miracle
couldn't stop me from going nuke now. At least Daria's safe.



BACK-UP SYSTEM INITIATED

RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC...

VIRUS DETECTED & IDENTIFIED - TREATING...

VIRUS QUARANTINED - ESTIMATED TIME TO COMPLETE TREATMENT: 13 MINUTES 42 SECONDS

SCANNING LOCATION... LOCATION CONFIRMED AS FOREST OF THE STORM

SCANNING FOR PRIMARY TARGET... UNIDENTIFIED LIFEFORMS DETECTED WITHIN FIFTY MILE
RADIUS

LIFEFORM 1: MAGICK ENHANCED HUMAN - STATUS: INCAPICITATED

LIFEFORM 2: MYRDDIN CREATION - STATUS: DEMISE IMMINENT

LIFEFORM 3: HUMAN ON DIRECT PATH TO CURRENT LOCATION - THREAT LEVEL MINIMAL

RECOMENDATION: IGNORE LIFEFORM 1 & 2 -

ALERT: PRIMARY TARGET DETECTED ON RAPID APPROACH TOWARDS FOREST

RECOMENDATION: ANTICIPATE WITH EXTREME FORCE

INITIATING WEAPONS DIAGNOSTICS... THREAT RESPONSE STATUS: 13%

RECOMENDATION: REVIVE MAGICK ENHANCED HUMAN BEFORE PROCEEDING -

ADVANCED WEAPON DETECTED - SCANNING... WEAPON DESIGNATION: "BLUE-KILLER" - USE
WILL INCREASE THREAT RESPONSE BY 62%

RECOMENDATION: OBSERVE UNTIL MAXIMUM OPPORTUNITY FOR SUCCESSFUL ENGAGEMENT

WEAPON AQUIRED - LOADING CHAMELEON PROGRAM - COMMENCE OPERATION



Daria had managed to keep pace with the suprisingly spry Tree without tripping over
the multitude of roots and debris. At least until a gale blasted her to the ground
and knocked her own wind out. Taking the thundering crack she heard as a sign the
sudden gust had finished Blodeuwedd's job, she frantically rolled towards a small
wall of rocks as blue shrapnel flew overhead. Once she was reasonably sure the coast
was clear she looked at what was now just another dead tree, the capitalization
disappearing along with the astounding world it contained. Picking up what had been
a root, this remnant of Quinn's home away from home fell through her hands like dust.
The rest followed, seeping into the ground. Suppose it served Myrddin's purpose.
Just wish it hadn't left me stuck in the middle of nowhere with no protection and
that I hadn't just backed up into something that's breathing heavily...

Turning around and hoping to find a very negligent park ranger, she instead came face
to chin with Trent. The last beam of silver light from the disintegrating leaves
allowed her a better look at what she'd assumed to be the salvation the Tree was
leading her towards. That relief turned to a scream of dark terror.

Terror as dark as the literally jaded Trent.

A howling wind blew through the tall blades of grass and dangling moss that had
replaced his hair and soul patch. Groaning, the olive revenant pulled her closer
with an unholy groan. Daria shivered, but not with the early unease that had vainly
warned her of the encroaching darkness. It was a fury that broke through the haze
of fear and regret to tell her to not go gently into the night that had already
taken so many. Wrenching herself from his grasp Daria grabbed the nearest blunt
object she could find, smashing a thick branch across his ribs with all her might.
Trent fell to his knees, the dismal groan of pain he uttered failing to break
through the red haze overwhelming her. Tears in her eyes, she raised the club high
and swung down -

Catching the crude weapon in his bare hand, the Trent-monster held on with a grip
of steel as he stood. She wasted no time, launching a volley of rapid kicks. All
she made contact with was air as he pushed himself away, the club flying from her
hand as she sank to the ground. Never taking her eyes off him she grabbed a heavy
rock and jumped up to renew her desperate fight for life.

Only to halt as a hack that would put a cat to shame ripped through Trent's body.
Lowering his head, thick brown liquid trickled from his mouth. Paranoia dismissing
it as a preamble to being coated with the same poison that had consumed him, she
reared back... only to recoil in disgust as Trent began vomiting a flood of the
sickening substance. The green pallor faded from his skin into a growing puddle,
his hair returning to it's normal jet-black. The odious rapid finally tapered off,
and with a weak cough he collapsed onto his back.

Avoiding the refuse Daria circled him in severe apprehension. Must be a trick,
don't lose the adrenaline. Stopping at a comfortable distance, she watched his
chest rise and fall in labored breathing. Maybe he fell asleep, which would mean
he's back to normal. Can't take that chance, run for it before -

Trent jumped up, eyes wide open. Wobbling for a moment, he clutched his stomach and
head. "And I thought Avalanche was a bitch." The parch in his voice suggested
he could use a drink of water, or a bucket.

Daria stopped herself from helping as he stumbled around, oblivious to her presence.
Even if he's okay now that doesn't change what he did. Letting them kidnap you, push
you around, use you to trap and kill Quinn... who he had every reason to believe
killed his family. Finally seeing her, Trent blinked in confusion. "Daria?"

She wanted to break his fingers and rip his soul-patch off. Instead she dropped her
weapon, the belated pain in her arms telling her just how heavy it had been. I was
ready to kill someone. Not just someone... "Hey," she responded in exhaustion.

Shame and regret clouded his face as he looked away. "Daria, I'm sorry, I should've
known -"

"We've both done stupid things in the name of family tonight," she interrupted in as
reassuring a tone as she could manage. "What happened?"

"That Tuathan gave me the pod person special when I finally asked some questions. I
managed to twist my hand around enough to press the chord pad into my thigh - my glove
casts repel when the buttons are pressed randomly." He began picking out the thorns
embedded in his suit as he sat down on his unfinished barricade. "Don't know how I
stayed conscious long enough to key in a cleansing spell, though."

"We should pray to whatever god looks after people in over their heads," she suggested
while easing herself onto a nearby stump.

"Yeah, too bad we got Poison Ivy instead of one of 'em," he muttered sardonically
while searching his coat pockets. Pulling out her remarkably intact glasses, he
handed them to her. "These're what helped me finally see through her."

"See, glasses, funny." She wiped the dried blood stain off the lenses before tucking
them into her jacket. "Thanks, but I've learned to go without."

"Must be the magick in this place, 'cause I feel like I drank a gallon of coffee."
It was his turn to ask questions. "What happened in the alley?"

"It's complicated," she hesitated. Trent deserved the truth, but it might re-ignite
anger towards Quinn for whatever she had done to... "Wait, where is Jane?"

"That monster left her over there, said she'd -" Trent ran over to the empty spot
he'd pointed to, Daria close behind. "She was out cold, total system shutdown,
unless... shit."

"Care to elaborate?" Daria prompted, wondering if there was more to that demolishing
gust that met the eye.

"The Blue-Killer's gone too."

Her stomach sank as she remembered the harpoon Blodeuwedd used to accessorize her
Penny outfit, loaded with gold that Quinn would literally die for. "Shit indeed."



Touching down in the small crater where Myrddin's Tree once stood, Quinn found it
hard to believe Blodeuwedd would return to the scene of the crime twice, but that's
what her radar told her. The chase had led her across areas of Gwynedd untouched
since the Dwindling. A glance into the serene but deadly Reflecting Sea showed her
own surface had healed, but inside she felt like how road kill looked. The real
problem was what would happen if the Bitchy Green Goddess managed to mount another
assault in spite of her sorry state. She expanded her mind, the forest filling all
of her sense and then some. Two familiar presences were headed her way, but she
was more alarmed by an unusual... movement was the best she could come up with.
Thinking of wraiths and other creatures that could hide from even the highest
entity, she focused on Daria and Trent as they made their way through the shadowy
thickets. Boy Blunder looks worse than usual. Little mind-spying won't hurt...
what a surprise, they're worried about Jane -

Quinn began examining every nook and cranny of the forest like she was searching for
her favorite scrunchi. I should trade in the horns for a dunce hat! Of course she
came back, so she can make Miss Bionic America whip me into blue frosting! Why didn't
Myrddin just give her parents a puppy? After several minutes neither hide or circuit
of Jane could be found. Okay, if she's stupid enough to come here maybe she'll -

She tried to turn the sudden dive into a back flip, instead falling as the earth
literally pulled itself out from under her. Landing across a widening chasm, she dug
her claws into the cliff. Sliding into the gulf, she looked up, picking out a weeping
willow in the seemingly endless sea of earth flying above her. Waiting a moment for
some brush to pass she climbed out, only to be smashed into the barren ground by a
solid barrage of stone, wood and a few metals. With severe strain she pushed back,
rising long enough to find some oxygen to burn. Turning over on broken wings she
got a clear view of Blodeuwedd's latest form - a tornado spinning into the sky and
measuring further than she could see. "Becoming one with nature is so 1960's," she
yelled through the blazing dome she'd built.

The monstrous construct rippled as eyes of gaping darkness formed. "Your pointless
prattling has never been in style," Blodeuwedd's booming, mouthless voice retorted.

"What're you gonna do, extinguish me with some moss?" Rising, Quinn bit her tongue
as several ribs cracked. "I can stay here longer than it'd take to recite every
Before They Were Supermodels transcript!"

"The weed your patron called home is no more. I have become Gwynedd. Everything
below the sky flows through me." Two dark gray strings shot forth from her empty
eyes, swirling around Quinn with dizzying speed.

"Mind repeating that? I don't speak pretentious has-been." Dammit, where did the
Tuatha keep their souls?

Blodeuwedd's laugh rippled across her swarming body. "That's the problem with
Daemons. For all your cunning, you're no smarter than a pile of rocks."

The stone ropes joined, encasing and lifting Quinn in a solid orb of thick lead
reinforced with slivers of steel. Her cocoon weakened as the elemental prison
compacted to skin level, her horns cracking as she used her remaining will to create
a white-hot inferno. The desperation move culminated in half-success as the fist
melted down to her waist, only to evaporate as crippling nausea racked her body.
Looking down with glassy eyes, she saw the lead had transmuted into a sharp gold
mold.

"The Princess is dead, long live the Queen."



10

What started as an earthquake turned into an earth slide, though those didn't usually
slide up. Trent grabbed Daria's hand, pulling her into an embrace as he punched in
a spell. Closing her eyes, Daria held on tight as they fell. An invisible cushion
broke their plummet to the exposed bedrock, shielding them from the hurricane of
objects flying around them.

"Daria? I think we're cool now."

"Right, sorry about that," she mumbled as she released her grip.

"It's alright, you're softer than a lot of girls I've laid on," he complimented as
he slid off.

That's not a blush, it's your blood pressure. "What just happened?"

His voice saturated in fear with a touch of awe, Trent answered. "That happened."

Yards away a funnel of tangled earth spiraled to an insane height. With a circumference
she roughly estimated to be a mile, a large chasm circled it like a moat. "Your
pointless prattling has never been in style," thundered a voice they recognized as
Blodeuwedd.

"Guess Blodeuwedd decided if the mountain wouldn't come to her she'd become it,"
Daria observed as she stood.

"The weed your patron called home is no more. I have become Gwynedd. Everything
but the sky above flows through me."

Working away on his glove, Trent began making his way around. "Best bet's a wither
and decay combo, but I need to something to channel it through."

"That's the problem with Daemons. For all your cunning, you're no smarter than
a pile of rocks."

Daria looked for anything that might have escaped the maelstrom. "Where's a sword in
the stone when you need... Jane?" That's what Quinn did to her?

"The Princess is dead. Long live the Queen."

Trent looked back to see Daria helplessly watching the stripped down Jane target Quinn
with the Blue-Killer. Going on gut instinct or stupidity - Same difference, he thought
- he took a desperate running jump towards Jane, putting his shoulder forward in an all-
but-certainly pointless attempt to knock her off target.

"Live through this, your majesty," Jane retorted with a voice of frozen steel as she
fired. Defying ballistic reality the harpoon swung around Quinn and swerved back to
embed itself deep within Blodeuwedd's mass. Seeing this, Trent switched gears in the
second between the jump and the landing. Grabbing the tether instead of Jane as he hit
the the ground, he activated the spell, a grayish yellow light flowing from his glove,
through the line, and into Blodeuwedd's earth-storm body.

With a sound like cracking ice the whirlwind ceased and solidified. The fist holding
Quinn severed, the sound of it shattering to the ground drowned by the explosion of
what had been Blodeuwedd. The remnants of the rogue goddess rained down around them,
fading into the ether before they could hit the dirt.

Once time had stopped standing still Daria ran to Quinn. Cracked black veins scarring
her lower body, she took Daria's helping hand as she tried to stand among the remnants
of her Philosopher's Stone-prison. "That enough of another way for you?"

"That'll do, Princess," Daria half-joked in relief. "Did you know Jane would do that?"

"Hell no! I was getting my butt beat all over the place!" Quinn exclaimed as she looked
back at the chasm that became Blodeuwedd's tomb while straightening a cracked horn.

Trent, slightly dumbfounded at their luck, was brought back to reality as the Blue-
Killer clattered to the ground beside him. He looked up to see Jane examining herself.
"Janey?"

"Affirmative," she replied with quiet sarcasm. "Mind telling me where I left my skin?"

"What do you remember?" he asked carefully as he stood.

"Mother Nature pointing that blasted remote at me," she responded bitterly. "Some
state of the art model I am, couldn't see some Tuatha cast-off impersonating my sister!
Who knows what she made me do..."

Trent looked back at Daria. "Yeah, who knows."

She followed his gaze. "Daria?"

She joined them with cautious steps. "Hey. You've looked better."

"You're one to talk. Told you not to run with scissors," Jane lamely joked, looking
at the disturbing blood stain on her shirt.

"You know Daria, she's a messy eater," Quinn interjected as she picked up the discarded
Blue-Killer.

"And even black and blue you could still be a Teen Vogue model," Jane noted with minor
disgust.

"Thanks! And before anyone asks what I'm doing, one weapon that can kill me is enough!"
she explained while crushing the harpoon between her hands, slapping them together in
a "job accomplished" manner afterwards. "Now if you all don't mind I've still got some
split ends that need straightening before-"

"I don't mind at all, but perhaps you should finish what you started." The voice
they'd all come to dread rustled like a stray leaf on the wind as a slender stalk
slithered out of a crack, blossoming into a daffodil. "Even with the tinker-toy out
of my control, nothing can stamp out this flower," Blodeuwedd hissed, white light
seeping from her petals.

Jane motioned like she was rolling up her sleeves. "Let's see you say that after I
spray some pesticide -"

"No. I'll handle this," Quinn interrupted with a firm but regretful tone.

"How? You're running on fumes. Burn me, crush me into mulch, it doesn't matter,"
Bloduewedd sneered. "I will only grow back."

Shaking her head, Quinn couldn't help but laugh. "You really don't know what's coming,
do you?"

"Do you?" Blodeuwedd asked rhetorically as her stem split, forming two tendrils to
crawl from the grave. "Even if you did possess a wand to wave me away, this is the
beginning of the end. The forces of magick have waited too long while mankind -"

Quinn cut her rant off. "Ruins the world, nature will have her revenge, unlimited rice
pudding, whatever. I'll handle it, alone if I have to. Though I hope not..." she
trailed off with a quick apologetic glance to Daria. "Anyways, what I meant was those
years dining on mouse tartar must've made you forget why us blues are really feared."

"I know enough to -" Blodeuwedd's voice choked in her erstwhile throat. Feels like...
impossible, that was merely a...

"Myth?" Quinn finished in her true voice as a stream of brilliant light flowed from
Blodeuwedd's new form into her outstretched hand. "That myth was what I used to
destroy my family to save the world! What made you think you I'd take it any easier
on you?"

Trent stumbled back in what he rationalized as reflex. Raised to believe the soul was
the only truly indestructible force in the universe, he couldn't believe what was
happening before his eyes could be possible. "She isn't... Jane, you gotta stop her!"
he urged as the flower containing the bilious Tuatha fell to ground like the ashes of
a incense stick left burning too long.

Myrddin expected me to stop this? Jane thought with incredulity as she turned off
several of her higher functions and closed her eyes lest the reality-smashing actions
playing out shut her down again. "I couldn't even if I knew how. Nothing can."

Daria could only watch in silent shock as Quinn, now and forever the Demon Princess,
carried out the plan she had quaintly refered to as "the nuclear option." She warned
me, but to see it... The light representing everything that was Blodeuwedd, the last
of the Tuatha, flared in impotent protest. With eyes as dark and cold as the void in
space Quinn took a final look at the true sum of one life laying in the palm of her
hand...

And then clenched her fist, extinguishing Blodeuwedd once and for all.

The world stood still for a moment before she spoke. "Trent can get you back home,"
she stated flatly before disappearing in blacklight.

The silence afterwards was deafening. "Could someone please make a snarky joke?" Jane
requested.

Daria exhaled a breath she had only just realized she'd been holding. "It's over.
That's the best we could hope for."

"Dead on," Trent noted as he laid in a transport spell. As the portal home opened the
Prophecy of the Curse echoed through Daria's mind.

A curse shall befall Terra, born of primordial darkness, dying in cleansing flame, reborn as
beautiful chaos.



Her neck cramping as she woke up, Sandi tried to rub it.

Nothing happened.

Opening her eyes she saw her hand was resting on a ratty cushioned armrest. Her skin
looked like wrinkled wrapping paper, all spotty and gross. She tried again, but it
felt like it weighed more than the Club's heavy labor limit. She finally noticed what
she was wearing. What kind of nightgown was this? It looked like something her
grandmother would give her. She struggled to get up, but the effort reminded her of
the time she'd got drunk. Her mother told her not think about that, it had only been
a nightmare, like she hoped this was as she focused her sleep-filled eyes on a
nearby mirror.

She looked like a melted candle, her whisper-thin hair gray and her body thinner than
she'd ever wanted. All she had, what made them love her, was gone. She was too dried
up to even cry. Finally managing to move her brittle neck, it was as painful as a
hundred hot curlers. She was in one of those old people's sitting rooms. The smell
should be illegal. She remembered being forced to visit all those incontinent gas bags
they called relatives, and now she was one of them. Another prune in the jar.

The lack of sound had gone unnoticed until the TV blinked from that "Come on down" show
to loud static. It blinked again, and she was watching her mother comb her hair before
the first day of school. She was lecturing her in that strained elocution she'd passed
to her through paddling that would make the strictest nun flinch. "Sandra, you are
never too young to use your assets. The other girls are cute, YOU'RE beautiful. And
you have one thing they don't - the power of ambition. Don't let them think they can
walk all over you. Make them earn your friendship."

Her tenth birthday party. Everyone who mattered was there, of course. It was her hour,
but her mother made her talk to a little mouse of a girl, the daughter of some new boss.
She had her hair in a braid - that was so 1980s. She told her she'd be much cuter in
pig-tails. The girl begged her to help, and Stacy Rowe became her shadow.

Then came the day it all changed, when she learned a name she would come to simultaneously
love and lament - Quinn Morgendorffer. Everyone had noticed her the second she set foot
out of the car with the grace of an angel and the determination of a demon. Cute and
beautiful - a deadly combination. This new girl could rule the school with just her
looks, and her response to Stacy dripped with the kind of bright charm that could bend
world leaders around her finger.

Think quickly, act period, she'd been taught. She scooped Quinn into her fold, believing
any problems she posed would be outweighed by the benefits of having a weapon of mass
attraction in her arsenal. She quickly figured out her greatest weakness. Quinn was
desperate to belong, to be liked, and she used that like a choke-chain to keep her VP
in line. But every day since she questioned that decision as Quinn grew stronger in
will and mind. The last night she could remember was proof of that. If she did a
better job of being Sandi Griffen than her what hope did she have? It wasn't too late,
she could declare war at anytime, and Quinn would be worse off than that goth chick
when it was over. So why hadn't she?

The answers appeared. The simple times like shopping and reading Waif were there, but
it really laid in moments like Quinn abandoning a date to help Stacy through her eternal
crisis, tutoring Tiffany, and covering for her when she had a breakout. The one place
Quinn truly outdid her was what had made everyone, including the "Ice Queen of Lawndale
High", love her.

She had a heart.

When some dips**t was stupid enough to insult Quinn in her presence they found themselves
barely above Upchuck on the dating roster. When a girl bitched about how she didn't
deserve the admiration they were blacklisted from that month's parties. If she'd only
had the guts she could have told that cousin of hers a thing or two. That heart would
make sure she didn't end up a lonely fossil like her. If only...

Feeling a hand on her shoulder she tried to turn, but there'd be good fashion across
the world before that happened. Her visitor stepped into her line of sight, and she
wanted to die. Her weak little heart could moan all it want, but her mind told her
the truth. She didn't want to be seen like this, especially by her. She tilted her
head up, intending to burn the full force of her scowl into Quinn's superior little
face -

And stopped when it saw the proof that weak little heart sought.

Quinn was as beautiful as ever, It really had to be witchcraft to look that way after
all this time. She should hate her more, but she couldn't - Quinn truly was the most
beautiful girl she'd ever seen. Not in that way, it was like some old movie ad she
barely remembered - "Women want to be her, men want to be with her." Then she realized
why the hate wasn't there.

Quinn was sad, but not "just watched Titanic" sad. Pain deeper than any of those boring
old poets could hope to feel filled her, though as usual she tried to smile through it.
"Fashionably late. You understand, right?"

Sandi could only smile back.

She must have fallen asleep for a moment, because when she opened her eyes she was
being carried by a ginger angel down the long dull-green hall. Her angel spoke with a
voice smaller than she could believe the confidence-personified Quinn could. "I'm so
sorry..."

No weakness, no quarter given -

"It's not your fault."

"I can't bring you back," Quinn began, "but I promise it'll never happen again."

She could finally lift her arm, touching Quinn's flawless face. "I just... want to
be..."

"I understand." Stopping near the exit, the light coming through it was greater than
a million tanning booths. Quinn set her down feet first, gently guiding her to look
into a mirror larger than the hall could possibly hold.

She was beautiful again. Long wavy brown hair, a body to kill for, and a gown that
Bob Mackie would've given his manhood to design. It still wasn't as good as -

"Don't think that, Sandi. You're gorgeous, you're strong, you could've been President
of the United States! Not that you'd want to, who wants all that stress?"

Sandi could only mouth her response as the light enveloped her.

"No, thank you," were the last words she heard in this life.

Sandi's dead eyes stared blankly towards the sky, her body crushed and bent in manners
no human could survive. The early morning wind tangling her hair in her horns, Quinn
cupped her hand to her ear, extending her pinkie to her lip like she was using a cell-
phone. "911? Thank God! I just saw a girl get hit by a car on Lover's Lane, it was
really gross and sad! The plate numbers? Uhm, wait, my boyfriend's still puking..."
Shutting her palm, Quinn wished that had closed everything. She'd made peace with Sandi,
but now came the hard part - the rest of her life. The home she still had might not
matter despite the measures she'd taken... especially when one of them had seen her at
her worst.

Walking away, she couldn't help but to take one last look at the pile of flesh she'd
created. The real Sandi was safe now, embarking on a new life free of over-bearing
mothers and Demon Princesses. All that laid at her feet was a construct, born from a
knowledge she'd once used to wipe out entire villages. She was halfway towards leaving
when she saw the mole on Sandi's neck, a minor imperfection few knew of. Quinn hadn't
taken into account it'd be exposed by the angle necessary to imply a hit and run. She
kneeled down for a closer look. She had no such problems, she was perfect.

But only on the outside.

Unable to hold back, she screamed an anguished wail that couldn't match the volume of
her tears.



The ride home was uneventful. There was so much that needed to be said, but no one
knew how to voice it. Climbing upstairs, Daria knew she should be thankful her home
wasn't empty like Jane and Trents, but she could barely see beyond her nose. Exhausted
in every way, one tiny pocket of will gave her the energy to take off her boots before
collapsing onto her bed. Screw perfect attendance...

Fifteen minutes later she jumped up. It felt like something was in the room, watching
her. She couldn't rule it off as nerves anymore, not when she knew shadows could hide
horrors the rest of the world believed to be fantasy. For once she missed being like
the rest of the world. Laying back down, she clenched her eyes to shut out the rapidly
ascending morning sun. It worked until she realized the faint hum in the background
that everyone could hear outside of an isolation tank was actually something more.
There was a mechanical nature to it -

A tiny click sounded as the spike sailed the short distance between her and Jane.

She stalked over to shut off her computer, the source of the annoyance. Clicking the
Start icon she was about hit "Shut Down" when the last few lines of the story caught
her red eyes. The protagonist was at her sometime friend and often rivals funeral.
She still couldn't do sentiment very well and the internal monologue she'd begun proved
it. "Nothing would ever be the same again", way to state the obvious...

Not caring what was lost she started pressing the mouse button down when a tiny glimmer
of inspiration surfaced through the shell-shock. Moving the pointer to a far corner to
ensure the sleep command didn't activate, she resumed the story. Her fingers danced
across the keyboard like she was writing down her last thoughts. Saving the file, she
knew that after later reflection it might not fit the story, but for now it was the
perfect epitaph for this day.

"I don't know what happens now, but I'm too scared to close my eyes."


END NOTES

RECOMMENDED LISTENING
Splendora "You're Standing On My Neck (full version)" [a look back before it changes]
David Bowie with Trent Reznor "I'm Afraid of Americans" [the darkness closes in]
Rob Zombie "Superbeast" [the Demon Princess]
Depeche Mode "Never Let Me Down Again" [blood is thicker]
Marilyn Manson "Hell Outro" [unintended sacrifice]
Moby "Extreme Ways" [the story behind the Curse]
Nine Inch Nails "The Day The World Went Away" [survival instinct]
KMFDM "Anarchy" [ultimate justice]
Moby "Natural Blues" [goodbye]

DISCLAIMERS
Daria and all related characters created by Glenn Eichler and Susie Lewis Lynn. "Daria"
and all characters and situations therein are copyright of MTV Networks, a Viacom company,
copyright 1997, 2000. Used without permission.

The "Demon Princess" concept and all original characters and situations depicted within
are copyright of Cory McCasland. All rights reserved.

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