Ownership Disclaimer: These characters originated in the deep dark recesses of my mind, and thus belong to no one but me. Copyright © 2000 by Advocate. All Rights Reserved.

Violence/Profanity/and Sexual Content: This story contains moderate levels of violence as well as profanity. This is a work of alternative fiction that depicts two women as well as an opposite sex couple in both a physically and emotionally loving relationship.

Thanks: I've got the best beta readers a bard could hope for. These guys (Barbara, kd bard, Ellie and Medora MacD) simply rock. They kindly supplied any semi-colons, or other such funky punctuation. Kamouraskan, your editing suggestions were greatly appreciated. In addition to my wonderful beta readers, several friends offered me their support and encouragement. To them I offer a heartfelt thank you.

Dedication: This is dedicated to the one I love. If I had more than my heart to give... it would already be yours.

Comments or Questions to: advocate8704@yahoo.com

"How could all this be here with nobody knowing about it?" Liv asked, shining her flashlight into an empty room, investigating every corner and crevice, the floor, and even the ceiling, before stepping back into the hallway and shaking her head 'no' at Kayla, who was right on her heels. Silently they resumed their trek forward.

Liv and Kayla had been in the passageway for hours exploring room after room, each one an oddity of architecture. Some were no larger than a walk-in closet and perfectly square, while others were long and narrow with sloping ceilings, curved walls, and multiple entrances which only led to more rooms and corridors. The only thing the unique spaces appeared to have in common was that they were all hidden between, below, and behind the regular living areas of the home.

As Kayla had suspected, other than the occasional, distant scampering of rats' paws against the hardwood floors, it was deathly quiet in these secret spots. The storm outside had been easily forgotten once the women began their exploration into the inky blackness.

By unspoken mutual consent they remained together in the same room, or very near to it, at all times, searching the cobweb-covered shelves, tables, and bureaus that filled the sometimes-furnished, windowless rooms and nooks.

"It's a house within a house," Liv whispered reverently, continually astonished at what she found around every corner and up or down each staircase.

The air was stagnant and heavy with dust and the scent of damp, rotting wood; the sweltering heat oppressive. Liv sneezed for the hundredth time and Kayla wordlessly passed her a large bottle of lukewarm water that she retrieved from her backpack. The blonde took a deep satisfying drink, wiping an errant drop from her chin with the back of her hand, and shaking off the droplets with a flick of her wrist. "Thanks," she muttered gratefully as she handed the bottle back, allowing her fingertips to linger against Kayla's for a timeless second before green eyes dropped bashfully.

Utterly charmed by the shy gesture, Kayla grinned, her white teeth glittering even in the dull glow of the flashlight. She ran the tip of her tongue along the roof of her mouth. Absently deciding it felt like lamb's wool, she followed Liv's example and took a healthy swig from the bottle before sliding it back into her pack. "My pleasure," she replied as her mind shifted away from the attractive woman at her side to business. Family business.

As they reached the end of the hallway Kayla stopped unexpectedly, sending Liv crashing into her back. "You'll do anything to touch me, won't you, Liv?" Kayla bantered as she pushed open a heavy door whose creaky hinges protested loudly as it swung open.

Duh! Yes! "Umm..." Liv laughed, unable to think of a lie to cover the truth. After a few flustered seconds she just gave up. "No comment."

Kayla shone her light through a curtain of tangled spider webs and onto a small four-poster bed whose dust-laden, pale canopy hung in tattered ruins around the tall, dark wooden posts.

"Pffftt... Pffftt!!" Liv spat dryly, trying to dislodge a gauzy mass of web that had managed to stick to her lips as she entered the room alongside Kayla. "God, that's gross."

Blue eyes flickered from wall to wall. "It looks a like a regular bedroom."

"In Norman Bates' house maybe!" Liv snorted as her fingers frantically brushed her mouth, her disgust reflected on her face.

The linguist spun in a circle quickly scanning the room to make sure it didn't contain something unexpected and otherworldly, or something expected, but with beady black eyes and a slender long tail. "Kayla, why would anyone do this?" Meaning: go to the trouble of building all these hidden rooms.

The tall woman sighed as she tried to tug open a drawer from a short oak dresser next to the head of the bed. "Sometimes members of my family can be a little... umm..." she searched for the exact word she wanted.

"Eccentric?"

"I was actually thinking 'wacko'." She gritted her teeth while doing her best to try to slide the drawer out gently. "But your word will work too." Kayla ran her fingertips around the edge of the drawer. "Dammit, the wood must be swollen." She placed her flashlight on the dresser's top. "Oh, shit!" Kayla cursed, a furious tug sending the flashlight tumbling off the dresser top as the drawer handle broke off in her hand.

Kayla blinked at Liv, who had caught the flashlight with a lunging grab. "You've got quite some reflexes." And a lot more than that. I'll be she's one of those people who are good at everything.

The blonde shrugged self-deprecatingly but smiled anyway. "Not really. I figured that was going to happen. I was just waiting for you to get angry enough," she teased.

Dark brows drew together in a mock scowl. "It seems you already think you know me, Ms. Hazelwood."

Do I? Liv's smile broadened. Maybe.

"Why don't you look around the rest of the room, while I keep fiddling with this?"

"Kayla, why are you here at all?" It was the one question the ghostbuster still hadn't answered. Even after explaining all she knew about the spell... which wasn't much. Liv began to wonder what was fact and what was simply local or family lore. "You said your Papaw appointed someone else as guardian of the histories." Liv sneezed violently. "Shouldn't that poor bastard be here going through these rooms instead of you?"

Blue eyes flashed as Kayla's ire rose. "That 'poor bastard' is Marcy and I won't let her waste her life looking for the details of somebody else's!" she hissed, not giving a tinker's damn what Papaw's will decreed. Angrily, she yanked on another drawer, which was also stuck.

Liv winced. Aww, shit. "I'm sorry." She laid her hand on Kayla's back, feeling perspiration through the white T-shirt. "I didn't mean to sound so... callous. I'm just really tired." Her stomach rumbled on cue. "And hungry." When I get hungry I get mean as a junkyard dog! Remember this is her family, not fiction.

"S'okay," Kayla answered softly, straightening and dropping her hands from the dresser. "Papaw let finding the missing history become an obsession. I don't want Marcy falling into that trap. The documents from the 1700's hint that my family's powers ran very strong during the mid and late 1600's. And I've already learned so many important lessons about controlling my 'ability' from reading the histories. Who knows what information would be forever lost if we don't find the documents? It's important to my family and me. We just have to find it, okay?"

Liv nodded, not missing the hint of worry and desperation in Kayla's voice. "We will," she assured with a new sense of purpose. Once Liv could attach a face to a problem she latched onto it with a vengeance. It was why she had spent so much more time in Africa than she'd originally intended. The soft, chocolate-brown eyes of the children she taught demanded her attention in a way she was powerless to ignore... at least until it seemed that Doug needed her more. I wonder what that little bugger is doing now. Shit! Scratch that. I don’t want to think about that. He's probably having the time of his life and hasn't given Kayla and me a second thought. He'd better be okay so I can wring his neck!

Kayla shrugged off her backpack, allowing it to hit the floor with a loud thump, sending a cloud of dust billowing gently around it. "Let's take a break," she suggested dejectedly as she dug into her pocket. We both need a break. My eyes hurt and she's tired. Even in the shadows I can see dark circles under those pretty green eyes.

This was the final room in this corridor and so far they hadn't found one thing relevant to their search. Kayla fought the urge to explode on the spot. The history had to be here somewhere! Didn't it?

"Great idea," Liv moaned, closing her eyes as the previous night's lack of restful sleep came back to haunt her. Even through her closed eyelids, Liv could tell that the lighting in the room had changed. When she opened her eyes she found that the room was bathed in a softer, more muted glow.

Kayla had shut off her flashlight and was busy lighting the candles that dotted the furniture around the room.

She must have refilled her lighter, Liv thought idly as she watched Kayla move, her thick ebony hair taking on a nearly bluish tint in the candlelight. God, how can someone so smart and funny be so beautiful, too?

Kayla broke off the tip of a wick of another candle, cutting away some of the golden beeswax with a small Swiss Army knife. "Why don't you reach into the side pouch of my pack. I've got a couple of trail bars and some raisins I think. Grab the water, too, okay?"

Liv nodded, wondering if she should turn off her flashlight too, now that the room was lit with several brightly burning candles. This bad-boy must take a dozen batteries. The candlelight gave the room a different, homier feeling. But Liv still shivered as she thought about spending significant time someplace without windows. No way. I'd go mad, I know it.

"There." Kayla gave a satisfied nod as she collapsed her knife's small but razor sharp blade and slid it into her pocket. Several long strides later and she was back at the foot of the small four-poster bed. Her brows drew together in thought.

"Umm... These are really good," Liv mumbled, enjoying the tangy flavor of dried raspberry, not waiting for Kayla as she dug into one of the trail bars and took an enormous bite.

"Thanks. Granny makes 'em," she replied absently. "I didn't know how long we'd be looking around in here and I hate skipping meals." The tall brunette yanked off the faded comforter and sheet and tossed them to the floor. Then she pulled off the bottom sheet and draped it over a two cushioned, crushed velvet loveseat that sat kitty-corner to the bed. "Now we won't have to sit in a pile of dust and spider webs. C'mon." She motioned for Liv to join her as she sat down heavily, her mind already replaying the steps of their search. Where are you? Are you really lost... or hidden?

"Why Marcy?" Liv asked after a few moments of peaceful chewing, as much to fill the silence as to know the answer.

"Hmm?"

"Why Marcy as the guardian? She's just a kid."

"Mmm..." Kayla's face creased into a frown. "Usually the person in the family whose 'abilities' run the strongest is appointed as guardian."

"And that would be you, right?"

Kayla took Liv's flashlight out of her hand and clicked it off. "Batteries," was all she said by way of an explanation. "That's kind of a hard question to answer. But to make a long story short -- Marcy seems to have all the abilities that I do. She just doesn't recognize or use them."

"Like me?" Liv still found it nearly impossible to believe that she could have paranormal powers and be unaware of them.

Kayla nodded, looking over at Liv as though she wanted to say more, but stopping herself even as the words sat poised on her tongue.

Green eyes rolled as a wave of frustration passed over Liv. Damn, how can I be falling in love with someone who doesn't talk? She blinked. Twice. Whoa, back up the truck! I can't be falling in love with her! Too soon. Liv dismissed the ridiculous thought, but immediately faltered. Isn't it?

Then Kayla began again, pushing past her natural reluctance, completely unaware of the frantic thoughts whirling around in Liv's mind. "I... um... well because of the telepathy thing I didn't have a very easy time growing up. I trusted the wrong people with the information." She paused and swallowed around the sudden lump that had formed in her throat.

Liv's chest constricted. "And it made things pretty rough for you," she ventured, already guessing the answer and wishing she could turn back the hands of time, her heart reaching out to that little girl.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." Kayla smiled weakly, sensing not pity but support coming from her new friend.

Anger, almost completely foreign in its intensity, welled up within Liv. She would have stood by Kayla no matter what. Always. We should have met each other sooner, Kayla. There were so many times we both could have used a friend. We could have been there for each other.

"My dad's abilities are on the very low end of the scale, and being an only child he'd never seen someone grow up with my 'talents'. He didn't raise me to hide what I had, thinking that in today's 'modern' world people would be able to handle... me being different." Kayla stopped eating her trail bar, her hunger having evaporated. "He was so wrong," she said flatly, having long ago gotten over the years of bitterness she felt toward her parents for not preparing her better, but not the sense of sadness over the lost years filled with rejection and confusion.

The Reddings had done the best they knew how. It wasn't until she was an adult herself that she realized that it was all they had to give. That acceptance, however, didn't stem the tide of anger she felt toward the world in general for the simple rejection she'd endured. And it didn't help that by the time she was 14 years old she was nearly 6 feet tall and already doing college-level homework; her burgeoning attraction to women only added to her feelings of confusion and isolation. "I guess my folks learned from their mistakes with me and when Marcy starting showing all the signs that I had, they did everything they could to hamper it, hide it, or make it seem so natural that she wouldn't call attention to it because she didn't even know it was happening. Paranormal abilities are like any other abilities, Liv. It's only when they're cultivated that they reach their maximum potential."

"You're worried that the missing history will contain information Marcy might need someday… to understand her own powers?" she ventured, starting to understand what was at stake with the search. "And you approve of this..." Liv's hands gestured wildly casting long moving shadows on the far wall. "... deception?"

"No. But the choice wasn't up to me. And it was made out of love."

Liv sighed, not liking the idea that Marcy was basically being kept in the dark about her own nature. "How did your Papaw know about her?"

Kayla shrugged. "He just knew… the way she'll know who to appoint when the time is right. That's always been the way." Kayla's throat constricted with her next words. "His letter warned me that Marcy would be very powerful someday and that she had to be prepared."

Green eyes widened. "Warned?" Her powers might be dangerous? To herself or the rest of the world?

Kayla nodded, feeling a headache coming on. She didn't want to go into the long line of family members who had horribly abused their abilities, most ending in self-ruin. No matter what, Marcy would never turn out that way, would she? Even if they didn't find the history, Kayla vowed to keep that from happening.

Liv broke off a bit of her bar and offered it to her friend, easily sensing that this particular conversation was over. At least for now. "Eat a little, okay?" she directed in a soothing tone.

The taller woman smiled and bent down, gently taking the offering from Liv's fingertips with her mouth, enjoying the immediate blush that shot up Liv's cheeks as her teeth softly raked across tasty fingertips.

Liv giggled nervously, her heart pounding a mile a minute. "One minute you're upset about a traumatic childhood and your sister's future, and the very next you're teasing me with your teeth and tongue." She shook her head, feeling the heat in her cheeks. "I don't get you."

"I never said I wasn't fucked up," Kayla protested dryly, drawing an outright laugh from Liv. "And you should talk. What you said to me about the dream.... Jesus! And now you're blushing? Make up your mind, Liv. Are you a seductress or a Brownie?"

"Would you eat me either way?" Oh my God! I can't believe I said that!

Kayla's jaw and trail bar dropped at the exact same second, both landing with a light thud.

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

"It's just me, Marcy," Doug yelled loudly, the wind and rain pelting his back relentlessly.

Despite the vicious storm, hunger had driven the boy out in search of food. He insisted that Marcy lock the door behind him but hadn't thought to bring along a room key. There was a McDonalds about a quarter of the mile down the road from the motel and now he stood, armed with an incredibly soggy bag of cheeseburgers, waiting for Marcy to answer the door. He pounded again. "C'mon, Marse!"

Finally, the handle began to move in his hands and he backed up impatiently as the door swung open.

"What are you doing standing outside the door?" Marcy asked incredulously, her eyes running over his sodden form. "Why didn't you just knock?"

"I..." Doug stopped himself. She just didn't hear me knocking. It's not her fault, he told himself, trying to be mature about the fact that he'd be less wet if he were under water.

"Well, c'mon in, for God's sake," she drawled, giving his shirt a quick tug that nearly pulling the teenager off his feet.

"Good thing I didn't bother drying my clothes, eh."

"Yeah, right, right. Did you get them?" Marcy questioned with all the patience of a strung-out addict.

Doug proudly held out the drenched bag. "I got 'em, we had enough money for five. But I had to skip the fries."

"Did you..."

"Remember extra pickles, no mustard, on two of them," the blond finished.

Marcy gave the sheet she was wearing a little tug up before roughly pulling Doug into a passionate kiss. "You're a prince, Doug," she said against his lips before yanking the bag out of his hands and greedily dumping its contents on the bed, oblivious to what her kiss and current state of undress had just done to Doug.

The teenager was starting to wonder if he was going to have to seek medical attention for his nearly continuous state of arousal. And did Marcy have to look so damn good in that sheet?

After taking a big bite of burger, not caring that they weren't hot anymore, Marcy mumbled, "These are sooo good!" Her tongue snaked out and licked an errant drop of ketchup from the corner of her mouth.

Doug shifted uncomfortably and gave a long suffering sigh, envying that ketchup in the worst way.

Suddenly Marcy stopped chewing. "Don't you want any?" she pointed at the sack she'd ripped apart like a ravenous beast.

I can do this. I can do this, he told himself as he moved over alongside Marcy, wondering whether he should sit down on the bed in his wet clothes. When Marcy scooted over to make a spot for him, she shifted her legs and the sheet wrapped around her parted, exposing a long expanse of very naked thigh. Have mercy! Doug's brain began to short circuit. "I'll be back in a minute," he called over his shoulder as he bolted out of the door and into the night.

"What just happened?" A wide-eyed Marcy asked as the younger Hazelwood disappeared and the door slammed shut.

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

A muffled boom shook the house. It was the first time the storm had made its presence known since Liv and Kayla had begun their search.

"Great. I love storms. I'm especially happy this one is still raging," Liv muttered sarcastically as she blew out a puff of hot air, trying to dislodge a drop of sweat that hung precariously from the tip of her nose. As much as she disliked the dank rooms off the passageway, Kayla was right about their insulation. She'd been able to completely forget about the lightning, until now, which allowed her to focus on the search rather than her fears.

"Dammit all to hell!" Kayla seethed, slamming the door behind them as they left the very last room they could find to explore. After all these hours of searching they'd come up empty handed. "It's not here." It has to be!

Liv studied her companion with a growing sense of unease. She's starting to panic.

As their exploration had progressed, Kayla's worry had mounted. She'd literally ripped apart the last few rooms they'd searched.

Liv laid a calming hand on Kayla's shoulder. "We should go back to the room where we ate the travel bars, and break open that dresser. It's the only thing left we haven't checked."

Kayla nodded. "I know. I just hope I can remember the way back."

Liv cocked her head to the side, bringing up her flashlight and shining it directly into Kayla's eyes. "What do you mean hope?" You'd better know the way out of here! I've been following you for hours assuming you knew what you were doing, Ms Ghostbuster!

The darker woman's hands shot up to block the painfully bright light. "Stop it! Damn." She craned her head to the side, trying to look at Liv out of the corner of her eyes. "I know how to get us outta here. Relax and move the light, will ya?" The researcher pushed on Liv's arms until she lowered the light. "I said I was concerned with finding my way back to that particular room, not out of the passageway completely. I'm not worried about that." Man!

"I think the room is down this way," Liv pointed to a narrow corridor that veered off towards the left.

Two dark eyebrows edged upward. "I think you're right." She's better at this than she realizes. We've been traveling around this maze for hours and she knew which way we needed to go. She doesn't need my help at all. "After you, Sherlock," Kayla teased, gesturing the fairer woman forward.

Despite the circumstances of this search, Kayla found herself very much enjoying the time with Liv. She hadn't realized before tonight how much she'd missed pleasant company and easy companionship. How could she? She'd never really had them before. Even moving from country to country, and going from job to job hadn't been able to maintain her interest and fill the void that was meant to be occupied by a flesh-and-blood person; a friend. More than a friend. A partner.

But tonight she found herself unconsciously turning to her companion to remark on something interesting she'd seen in a drawer or on a table; anxiously awaiting Liv's insightful comments or youthful laugh as though she'd been doing it all her life. They were inconsequential things really, but it was still nice to share them with someone. Liv would stop whatever she was doing and join her to discuss the find as though she was truly interested.

The other woman's curiosity and natural interest seemed to rival Kayla's own, and several times she'd found herself in the unusual role of storyteller, regaling Liv with several of her more fascinating adventures. It was natural in an easy sort of way that made Kayla question the direction her life had taken and the priority she'd placed on friendship and love.

Kayla tripped over her feet, landing face down in the middle of the hallway. What did I just think?

"Damn, are you okay?" Liv dropped to her knees, tucking a strand of pale hair behind her ear, scanning Kayla for visible injuries. "That had to hurt," she pointed out, wincing sympathetically.

"Yeah, I'm fine." The researcher swatted away Liv's seeking hands, trying to salvage as much dignity as was possible considering she was sprawled out on her belly like a drunk.

"Let me help you."

"No."

Liv immediately backed away at the sharp tone.

"I mean, no thanks." Shit! Kayla stood up, flinching as she bent her bruised left knee. She dusted herself off, shooting Liv an apologetic smile. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Liv nodded mutely, fully understanding Kayla's embarrassment but still finding it nearly impossible stand to idly by as Kayla struggled to her feet. The linguist didn't miss her friend's faint groan as she straightened.

Resuming their trek, the brunette moved down the hall with a slight limp, then turned to go down a different corridor. But Liv laid a gentle hand on her arm to stop her.

"It's this way." Liv shone her light farther down the hallway.

"But..."

"Trust me."

Kayla's mouth snapped shut. Not a sidekick... Sometimes you just have to follow, the unexpected words echoed faintly in her head. "Lead on."

"Here." Liv poked her head into the room that smelled faintly of smoke and beeswax.

"Wow. I'm impressed." Kayla walked past the blonde, relighting several of the candles.

Green eyes twinkled at the sincere compliment. "Don't be," Liv insisted with a small grin, proud of herself despite her protest to the contrary. "How are we going to get it open?" she asked, tilting her chin toward the dresser and setting her flashlight down on a table, focusing its beam on their target.

Kayla dropped her backpack at the foot of the short wooden dresser, glaring at it all the while. "I'm going to smash it to bits," she announced plainly.

Liv flinched. "Are you serious?"

"Very."

"Want some help?"

"Always."

"Isn't this the room that had the..."

'Umm... Hmm." Kayla agreed, already moving to a small closet where they'd discovered a pair of rotted, black leather boots and a rusty, pitted sword earlier that evening. She'd wanted to take the sword with her, but Liv convinced her that it wouldn't be going anywhere and that there was no use traipsing around with something so awkward.

Kayla wrapped her hand around the hilt, whose tight leather bindings had crumbled away, her damp palm slipping a bit as it slid against the warm metal. It fit her grip perfectly. Blade in hand she stepped out of the closet to face Liv, silhouetted by the golden candlelight.

Liv's breathing froze as she took in the powerful sight before her. Her heart lurched and a curious feeling of deja vu prickled her senses. A vision of Kayla in a dripping wet cloak, holding a sword that merged into a silver dagger flashed through her mind as a wave of both security and sadness washed over her.

Without thought, Kayla released the blade, sending it clattering to the floor with a puff of dust. "What's wrong?" she breathed, wholly unnerved. The look on Liv's face when she'd faced her with the blade had been a frightening mix of affection, pain, and relief that rocked Kayla to her core.

"I... um..." Liv backed away a step. "I don't know." Confused eyes dropped from Kayla's. When she'd seen the sword earlier she felt a gnawing in her guts that made her want to walk out of the room and never come back. But this... this was different. Seeing the blade tightly gripped in Kayla's hand had sent her mind reeling.

Kayla's back went ramrod straight, turning bewildered eyes on Liv. "You're afraid of me, aren't you?" It was her worst fear, and the look in Liv's eyes mirrored it. Who wouldn't be afraid of a freak?

"No," Liv protested instantly. "I just... I..." she babbled, trying to think of a way to explain what she herself didn't understand. "I just felt strange for a moment there. It wasn't anything you did." She smiled weakly and began to walk toward Kayla, her voice soothing and calm. "I wasn't afraid you'd hurt me. I knew you were going for the sword. I think somehow I was just surprised to see you holding it."

The churning in Kayla's stomach eased with Liv's words. "Let's get out of here and go get some coffee. I can come back with an axe or hatchet or something tomorrow. Like you said before, nothing's going anywhere."

"No." Liv shook her head emphatically. "We came to find the history and we will. It's the only place left to look." I know how important this is to you.

Dark eyebrows lifted in question.

"I'm sure."

Kayla bent to retrieve the sword, but Liv beat her to it. "Let me," the linguist said firmly as she grasped the sweat-slicked hilt, vaguely surprised by the long weapon's weight.

Before Kayla utter a word of protest, Liv was standing in front of the dresser, her knees bent and legs placed shoulder width apart. She leaned back slightly as she swung the blade in a wide arc, shoulder muscles shifting under her soft T-shirt, the rusted blade gaining momentum with every inch. Then the sword was speeding toward the corner of the dresser top as Liv threw her back muscles into the swing. It struck with thundering crack that echoed through the silence of the secret rooms and sent a shower of splinters skittering across the wooden floors. The corroded blade simply disintegrated in Liv's hand.

Kayla stood speechless, mouth open, in wide-eyed astonishment. "Holy shit!" she finally exclaimed.

"Wow," was all Liv could think to say. She didn't think the time-dulled edge would do much more than gouge the old piece of furniture. Instead, in a single vicious stroke, the dresser had been reduced to a pile of planks and splinters. And the blade was now a chunky heap of steel shards and rust.

Shaking her head Kayla stared down at the messy pile and laughed, "I guess it was more rickety than we thought. Still..." She flashed Liv a crooked grin as she sat down, flinching at the sharp pain that lanced through her bruised knee. She began digging through the rubble. "...Remind me never to piss you off."

"Just remember that, ghostbuster."

"Brat."

The tip of a pink tongue was Liv's response.

Kayla's attention was drawn back to her task when searching fingertips brushed against something cool and silky. With a tug, a remarkably well preserved, scarlet silk bag partially emerged from chunks of wood. Please. Please. Please. Just let this be it.

Tossing what was left of the sword aside, Liv dropped to her knees alongside Kayla, tugging an errant lock of blonde hair behind her ear with an impatient hand, in a motion that Kayla already recognized as a nervous habit. With the back of her other hand Liv pushed sweaty bangs out of excited green eyes. "Well, what is it? Please tell me we didn't search half the afternoon and evening only to find somebody's ancient 'Victoria's Secret' stash."

Kayla let out a burst of laughter despite her pounding heart. Eager hands pulled the large sack free from the remains of the dresser. "It's a book, I think," Kayla said, hoping her words could make it true even as a slender rectangular shape became visible through the folds of the soft crimson material.

As she pulled the book from the cool silk bag, Liv scrambled over to retrieve the flashlight she'd set down earlier. "Well?" the linguist questioned as she shone the light onto the book's russet-colored, deeply tooled cover.

Long fingers traced a large picture that was carved into the leather. Kayla's touch glided over a massive oak tree whose trunk was circled by a wicked looking, fang-bearing snake. Blue and green eyes squinted, taking in the exquisite detail. Discretely hidden in the tree's branches were all manner of weapons: swords, staffs, battle axes, lances, daggers, maces and bows.

"Knowledge is power?" Liv wondered aloud, marveling at the intricate work, and recognizing the scrolling pattern that adorned the book's edges as the one etched into Kayla's lighter.

"That's one interpretation," Kayla agreed, continuously impressed by Liv's intuition. Rubbing tired eyes, she slide a pair of dark-framed glasses out of a side pouch of her backpack and slipped them on. The researcher was so immersed in the book's cover that she forgot to be self-conscious about wearing them.

A small smile crossed Liv's lips. I knew she'd look great in those. It was on the tip of her tongue to say so, but she decided against drawing attention to the fact that this was the first time Kayla had worn them since they met.

Kayla adjusted the book so that both woman had a good view of its cover. "The tree represents my family line, its many branches -- the knowledge gained through the ages. The snake that protects the tree is the Guardian. And the weapons are power and strength and a willingness to fight for the tree."

"Fascinating." Liv spared a second to consider her family's legacies: varicose veins, shortness, an unnatural fondness for Scotch, and an unerring talent for getting into all kinds of trouble. "Is it a family crest?"

A dark head shook. "Nope. It only adorns the histories."

Liv smiled hopefully, green eyes lighting from within. "This is it, then?"

"Yeah," Kayla let out on a long, slow breath as she pointed to the date and name carved neatly into the book's heavy binding.

Pale blue eyes twinkled in the darkness. "This is it."

"Thank God, you're okay! I was worried about you," Marcy chastised seriously. "Where'd you go?" The dark-haired 16-year-old grabbed a towel and began vigorously drying Doug's curly, waterlogged locks.

Doug felt like a spoiled puppy getting a bath and gleefully leaned in to the touch. "I um... well, I remembered seeing a rack of movies at the check-in desk and I thought I'd go check them out."

It had been either leave the room at that very moment or face the real possibility of spontaneous combustion. His tactical retreat proved to be exceptionally effective. After bolting from the room he stood in the middle of the parking lot letting the wind and rain pelt him mercilessly. But for some reason that did nothing to end his agony. One look at the greasy motel clerk, however, and the raging beast that was his teenage sex-drive had whined piteously in surrender and crawled back into its cage.

"We don't have any money to rent movies," Marcy reminded, giving Doug's head a final pat.

"True. But when I asked that slimy desk clerk how much they were, he got really pissed. He was still watching those stupid stock car races on the TV." Doug smiled mischievously. "Then I proceeded to ask his opinion about every movie, and what he thought of all the actors." The young man shrugged one shoulder. "Finally, he got so sick of me he told me to just take a couple and get out," Doug finished triumphantly, kicking his wet sneakers into the corner of the room.

"Cool!" Marcy moved over to the stack of movies on the bed nearest to the wall. "What did you pick out?" she asked, scanning the titles. 'Rambo', 'Platoon', 'Lawnmower Man'. She looked up in horror and complained loudly, "Duuuggg! Was there a twenty bucket of blood minimum when you made your choices?" Then she looked at the last title and gray eyes narrowed.

"What?" Doug gulped nervously. Damn. Damn. Damn. But he couldn't resist! He'd always wanted to see it. When it first came out he'd asked Liv, who laughed for ten minutes straight and announced that she wasn't old enough for that movie and that he'd have to wait for many many more years before seeing it.

"You got 'Show Girls'?!" She made a disgusted face. "That's... that's just so..."

"Interesting?"

"Possibly," she admitted as she popped open the box and slid the cassette into the dusty VCR below the television.

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

Kayla sat on the sofa in the library in a clean pair of thin cotton shorts and a blindingly white T-shirt. Her damp, freshly washed hair hung loosely down her shoulders and back, and she was blissfully barefoot. A coffee table had been pushed in front of the low sofa and her left leg was resting atop it, an icepack soothing her swollen knee.

She'd wanted to dig into the history right there in the hidden rooms but Liv had talked her into waiting until they were back to the regular living area of the house where it only felt like the 4th level of hell instead of the 7th. Again, she'd wanted to start reading the history but Liv had insisted they both needed a shower, a change of clothes, and some food.

Kayla hated to admit it, but the linguist was right. They had been covered in dust and cobwebs, the scent of rotting wood clinging to their clothes and hair.

Liv poked her head into the library with a flickering candle in each hand. "I was wondering where you ran off to. Wow!" She spun in a circle. Kayla had lit ten large candles and placed them around the room. "I guess these two will just be overkill, huh?" she commented as she placed them on an end table alongside the couch that overlooked the sea. A flicker of light flashed across the room from a distant bolt of lightning, but there was no accompanying thunder. While it was still raining fiercely, the worst part of the storm had moved west, taking most of the lightning and thunder with it.

Kayla's mouth moved but no sound came out as she gawked at Liv. "No, no, no, no, no!" she finally exclaimed, shaking her head frantically. "You are not wearing that!" With a hasty swallow she lowered her volume. "Please." The single word came out as a pleading croak that caused Liv to burst out laughing, pale eyebrows standing out in vivid relief as a blush worked up her neck, settling in fair hair.

Liv grinned broadly. "C'mon, Kayla. It's sweltering in here." After her shower she'd changed into a thin, pale pink cotton nightgown. While it wasn't exactly revealing, it was sleeveless and ended mid-thigh, fully showing off several of Liv's more flattering attributes.

"No, it's not." And it wasn't. Kayla had opened a side window and allowed the much cooler breeze to blow past the light curtains, bringing down the room's temperature.

Pale brows furrowed as Liv walked around the sofa and sat down next to Kayla. The linguist's eyes slid shut and she exhaled delightedly, feeling an almost cool breeze brush against her skin and tussle damp hair as a powerful gust rattled the open window's screen. "Umm..." she purred. "You're right. This feels wonderful." She looked at Kayla seriously. "Do you really want me to change clothes?"

Hell no! "Well, it's... um... just that um... you're really distracting in that." A slender, dark eyebrow arched playfully. "Jesus, you're like some fresh-face teenage virgin in that." She swallowed again and dropped her eyes. "So pretty..." Kayla trailed off sheepishly.

Liv laughed, and felt her cheeks grow warm again at the sweet compliment. "Well, I'm hardly a teenager and... ah... the other part is private. But... um listen, Kayla, I think you know I'm attracted to you, right?"

A dark head nodded. God, I hope so!

"And you seem to feel the same about me, right?"

Of course! DUH!!! A second nod.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm not trying to be a tease. I was hot and this was the coolest thing that I packed. I didn't even think about how it would look to someone else." She absently fingered a thin strip of ivory ribbon than ran along the nightgown's v-shaped neckline. "If it makes you uncomfortable, give me a minute, and I'll go put on something else." Without waiting for an answer, Liv leaned forward to get up, but was held back by a firm hand on her shoulder.

"No. It's okay." Kayla's fingertips drifted across warm, soft skin for just a second, before pulling away. "I just lost my head for a minute. I don't mind. Really."

"Good," Liv smiled. "So how much have you read? I know there was no way you could wait for me to finish my shower." Liv reached down to the coffee table and grabbed one of the sandwiches Kayla had prepared while she was in the shower. Nothing like showering in the dark in this creepy old house! She shivered inwardly. I should have asked Kayla to join me. Oh yeah.

At the mention of the history, Kayla's good mood seemed to evaporate. "I can't read any of it!" She pointed an accusing finger at the text. "It's not in English!"

Liv stifled a laugh with the back of her hand, trying not to choke on her food. Is she actually pouting?

"It makes no sense. Except during ancient times, the histories have always always been transcribed in English."

Liv reached for the book, careful not to bump into Kayla's knee. Then she settled back into the cushion with the history in her lap and took another bite of sandwich. "Mmm... phis is gfud."

"It's just deviled ham and cheese."

"Mmm... Still..." Liv handed the last bit of her sandwich to Kayla who tucked it neatly in her mouth. "Okay, let's see what we have here." The blonde wiped her fingers and mouth on a paper napkin then carefully opened the book; the room's multiple candles providing more than enough light to read by.

"Well?"

Liv studied the stiff, yellowed paper. "It's Arabic."

"Dammit! That's what I thought." She sighed dejectedly. "I'm sure you can't read..."

"Oh, but I can." Green eyes twinkled. "Read Arabic, that is."

An excited smile creased Kayla's face, then shifted into a full-fledged frown when the silence in the room lengthened. "You can read the history?" she clarified, wondering if she'd misheard Liv.

"Umm... hmm..."

Kayla tilted her chin down as she lifted her eyebrows meaningfully. Well? "Aren't you curious to see what it says?" I know you are, dammit!

Liv did her best to keep a straight face, knowing she was killing Kayla and enjoying making her friend wait in a sadistic but funny sort of way. "Whadda ya give me in exchange for reading it?"

Eyebrows rose even higher. "I have to give you something?" she asked incredulously.

Liv nodded slowly. "Umm... hmm..." I. Will. Not. Laugh.

"But..." Then she caught the glint in teasing green eyes. Oh, I get it. This is a game of let's torture the big dumb... she sighed mentally... ghostbuster. Kayla scooted closer to Liv until their bare thighs were pressed tightly together and her lips curved into a roguish grin. "How about a kiss? I could give you that?" she offered quickly.

Round verdant eyes stared back at her. Did she say kiss? "Errr...Umm...well..."

Not waiting for an answer, Kayla slowly cupped Liv's cheeks with both hands, using her thumbs to gently stroke the warm, silky skin beneath her fingertips. Her skin feels even softer than it looks.

Nervous eyes darted wildly around the room, focusing on everything... anything, but Kayla. She's going to kiss me?! Yes! Well, what is she waiting for! Oh shit, am I supposed to say something? "I mean... umm... well... if you want... err... it'd be okay... well ... you could..." Liv babbled foolishly, suddenly unable to string together a sentence to save her life.

Damn, she's adorable. A small grin twitched at the corners of Kayla's mouth as her steady, deep voice pulled Liv's eyes upward to met hers. "Liv, you really need to be quiet... at least for a minute," Kayla chided gently, her grin taking away any sting the softly spoken words may have held.

"Umm..." She stopped herself and took a deep breath. "Okay."

One look at the earnest, open face across from hers and Kayla wasn't joking anymore. The researcher's grin broke into a full, heart-stopping smile, stretching her cheek muscles and showing off straight, white teeth.

Liv smiled back in pure reflex as time slowed down. The howling wind and hammering surf faded into the background as the sound of her own relentlessly pounding pulse drowned out everything else. And then, in the tiny space before her next heartbeat, she was falling; deeper and deeper into a clear, intense gaze that tugged insistently at her soul and stole the breath from her chest. Liv tilted her head slightly as the palms resting against her cheeks slowly guided her forward and verdant eyes fluttered shut.

Holding her breath, the younger woman leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips against slightly trembling ones that were unbelievably soft, and yielding, and Kayla felt herself begin to melt as a soft sigh of pleasure escaped her throat. The same flood of overwhelming warmth and emotion she'd felt in the dream washed over her, only this was better -- this was real.

Liv shifted sideways, threading her fingers into dark, damp tresses and drawing Kayla closer, answering the breathy sigh with one of her own as their lips met in flawless contact. Something faint and far off tickled the back of her mind, hanging just beyond her grasp. There were no words, only impressions and feelings, mingling indistinguishably with her own. A rush of desire. A sense of completeness and peace. A tiny echo of fear. Then the vague images faded, leaving Liv alone with her thoughts, and the pressure against her lips disappeared. She couldn't tell if it had been seconds or minutes.

Both women pulled away slightly shaken, not by the intensity of the kiss itself, but by the flood of emotions accompanying it.

Kayla reluctantly opened her eyes, unable to stop a goofy grin from creasing her face when she was met by smiling green eyes. "I know you felt that," she said softly, resting her forehead against Liv's. It feels so nice to share this with someone.

"I did."

"It wasn't something I was controlling," the researcher broke in, suddenly worried that Liv would think she was trying to manipulate her.

Liv pulled back and smiled reassuringly, giving Kayla's thigh a gentle squeeze. "I know that, silly." Why would I even think that? I'd like to kick the shit out of whoever made you feel so insecure about your abilities.

"Was what you were feeling... I mean with the kiss… a good sort of thing?" Kayla was already fairly confident what the answer would be, but she wanted to hear Liv say it anyway. Even though it had only lasted for a few seconds, she'd clearly felt the smaller woman's joy and arousal and confusion when their thoughts began to merge.

Liv leaned closer again, pressing her forehead against Kayla's. Nodding, she moved Kayla's head along with hers as she scrunched up her nose in contemplation. "I felt... something... a lot of somethings. And the kiss was...mmm..." she hummed lightly in contentment. "The kiss was perfect..."

An enormous smile split Kayla's face and she drew in a deep breath before speaking.

"...Almost."

The smile instantly disappeared along with all the air in Kayla's lungs.

"It needed to be longer," Liv added quickly, not wanting to let the mild tease go too far. Patiently, she waited for her words to register, and the bewildered looked to leave Kayla's eyes before continuing. Liv's voice dropped an octave below normal and green eyes visibly darkened when she whispered, "And much much more... thorough."

Kayla closed her eyes and groaned her agreement as she slid the history off of Liv's lap with one hand, while pulling the smaller woman into her own lap with the other.

The new position gave Liv an unusual height advantage. And she smiled seductively, lacing her fingers behind Kayla's neck. "I like being the taller one for a change," she offered with a cheeky grin.

"I should have known you'd like being on top." Blue eyes immediately widened as the implication of her words hit home. "I mean taller. Yeah... That's umm... that's what I meant to say."

Liv chuckled embarrassedly, wondering exactly how much of what she thought and felt was an open book to Kayla. Then she surprised herself by deciding that at this very moment, she didn't really care. A small kernel of happiness exploded within her and she embraced it, deciding to enjoy it as much as humanly possible. "Well, since it appears I'm taking my payment for transcribing the history in installments, don't you think you ought to get right to it?" she prodded, not so subtly.

"You're absolutely right," Kayla said seriously. "Figuring out all those dots and squiggles is going to be a lot of hard work."

"Squiggles?" Liv laughed, knowing that after spending the past two years in several of Africa's Muslim-dominated countries reading Arabic would pose no problem.

"Umm... Hmm...," Kayla reaffirmed with a slightly raised brow. "Squiggles." Then the researcher tilted her head upward and placed a soft kiss on Liv's lower lip, tracing its edge with the tip of a pink tongue. "But I'm sure a cunning linguist, such as yourself, can handle it," the younger woman offered with sexy smile.

A pale brow arched, but any hope Liv had of pursuing her thoughts was whisked away by the soft lips brushing tenderly against hers.

"Mmm... In fact, if this is going to be an extended contract... I think we should open things up for negotiations," Kayla laughed gently.

The hot wet tongue danced along Liv's upper lip and, to her credit, she didn't pass out, although for a few seconds it was touch and go. She did, however, decide she was MORE than ready to continue negotiations.

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

"Hurry up, Marcy! I wanna restart the film." Women! What takes them so long in the bathroom?

"Coming!" the girl called back, shutting off the sink and drying her hands on a dingy white towel. The young couple hadn't even made it through the movie's credits before Marcy asked Doug to stop the video so she could take a bathroom break. Now the teenager stood in front of the small bathroom mirror, the harsh fluorescent light making her look uncharacteristically pale.

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? was her panicky mantra. She splashed some cool water on her face, lifting her head to see a part woman, part girl, looking back at her. I know what's going to happen if I go out there and sit on that bed with him. He'll touch me, or I'll touch him. Oh God. I know what I want to happen. But am I ready? Is he? The reflection in the mirror smiled at Marcy as she recalled the look on Doug's face when he came back with dinner. He was ready yesterday. Still... it's a big step.

"Marcy," a voice called softly from behind the bathroom door. "Are you okay? You're not sick, are you? That McDonald's looked pretty trashy. Did your burger taste funny? Can I get you something?"

The bathroom door moved slightly and Marcy could picture Doug leaning against it, his mind racing, trying to think of something that would make her feel better, and her heart ached with the love she felt for him. "Coming, Dougie," she called quietly, knowing he'd hear her. With a quick flick of her wrist Marcy tossed the towel over the shower rod and clicked off the bathroom light.

When Doug saw the light go off through the crack of the door, he backed away, not wanting to look like a worrywart. It was on the tip of his tongue to correct her and demand to be called Doug, when he stopped his automatic response, realizing that when she said his nickname, just like with Liv, he felt content and happy and very... loved.

"Did ya miss me?" Marcy said happily as Doug moved back over to the bed and awkwardly sat on its edge.

"I always do when we're apart," he said simply, unknowingly working his way even deeper into Marcy's heart.

She joined Doug on the bed, pulling his hand into hers, the video temporarily forgotten. A distant flash of light reminded her of the storm that still occasionally lit up the sky. "Do you think Kayla and Liv are okay on the island?"

"Liv hates storms. But I'm sure they're okay," he reassured as much to convince himself as Marcy. "I think they're probably going nuts worrying about us. I'm surprised the police haven't barged in here already." Doug eyed the door warily, only really considering the possibility as he was saying the words. "I'm sure Liv has already called out the National Guard."

Marcy nodded gravely, certain her parents were driving toward them at this very moment. "I just hope they're still talking to each other. Kayla gets bored really easily and then she gets grouchy. It's not a pretty sight. It's really best to avoid her at those times."

"Ha! You think Kayla gets grouchy?" Doug mocked. "You should see Liv when she's bored! She starts inventing chores to do! That house is probably cleaner now than it was when it was new. How annoying is that? Then add in the fact that they probably can't keep their minds off us, and they're cooped up together in that stuffy old house without a TV or radio even! I'll bet they're in pure hell!"

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

Heaven. Unadulterated bliss! were the only thoughts Liv's mind could manage for long moments. They were kissing deeply now. Moaning their pleasure into each other's mouths, hot wet tongues sliding languidly together, mapping, tasting and exploring. Oh God! This feels too good to stop. Their movements were slow, but their intensity was white-hot. Liv was rapidly approaching the point of no return, and despite her deepening feelings toward Kayla she knew she should stop things before they went any further. She didn't want to sleep with Kayla knowing that in a few days she'd probably never see her again. She wanted a chance at a relationship -- and that would require a conversation that consisted of more than 'oh, baby' and 'God, yes!' Problem was... Liv's body had simply decided to ignore her cautious, overly meddlesome mind and was responding with abandon.

"Olivia," Kayla rumbled softly, hearing the blonde moan loudly, passionately, at the sound of her name. "If...mmm..." she paused as one of Liv's hands worked its way underneath her T-shirt and a seeking tongue swirled around her own. Fuck yes! she mentally cheered. "Liv, if... we... I mean if I'm going to stop... Maybe um..." For Chrissakes, please move that hand a little higher! "Maybe now would... would be a good time." Or not! she mentally pleaded.

Reluctantly, Liv pulled back, but not before giving Kayla's bottom lip a sharp nip, drawing an aroused whimper from the ghostbuster. "I know. I know, you're right," Liv grumbled good-naturedly as she reclaimed her spot on the couch alongside her companion.

They were sitting so close together their thighs were touching. But for some reason, Liv couldn't bear to put any more distance between them. Kayla simply had a seductive warmth that called to her in a way she'd never experienced. She couldn't ignore it or deny it, so why bother trying?

"Would you like to start reading now," Kayla asked on an unsteady breath, already wishing she hadn't put a stop to their earlier exploration.

Liv reached down and grabbed the book, very aware of Kayla's soft but ragged breathing. She nodded and replied, "Sure," all the while privately cursing her own lack of self-control. Damn, I'm worse than Dougie. She took a few seconds to allow the light breeze from the window to cool overheated skin, promising herself that when the time was right she'd talk to Kayla about what would... she winced ... or what wouldn't happen between them once they got off the island.

The linguist opened the large book, resting half on her right thigh and half on Kayla's left. After a moment of adjustment, both women propped their feet up on the coffee table so the book sat an angle, allowing for maximum comfort. They were snuggled so closely together a ray of light couldn't have slipped between them.

Kayla rubbed stinging, tired eyes. "I'm sort of glad you're going to be doing the reading. My eyes are still burning from all that dust."

Liv resisted the urge to look over and give the body part in question a thorough examination. Not now. Not those gorgeous blue eyes. Not after kissing like that. I may be a glutton for punishment, but I'm not suicidal. "Just close your eyes and listen then."

"Liv..." Kayla smiled wryly. "I don't think this is going to be much of a bedtime story. Most of the histories read about as well as a laundry list. Names, births, deaths, marriages that kind of thing. Not much personal and certainly nothing exciting." She shrugged one shoulder and burrowed her head deeper into the back of the sofa. "Even though the discussions of our 'abilities' can be enlightening, they're usually pretty dry." Kayla's mind drifted to Papaw's disturbing letter. Please let there be something in there that will help guide Marcy. I'm not sure I know enough to do it on my own.

The blonde crinkled her forehead, looking slightly troubled. "This...," she gave the book a little shake, "...is about the people who lived here when this house was built, isn't it?"

The house answered for Kayla, letting out a long tortured groan that chased goosebumps up and down Liv's bare arms.

"It's just settling," Kayla assured softly. But she felt the sudden chill as well. She briefly considered getting her equipment and rechecking the house for paranormal activity but decided against it. It could wait. After all, they weren't going anywhere until at least tomorrow night.

"I know," Liv answered a little too quickly, the doubt in her voice obvious to her own ears. A flash from the night sky lit up the room for the briefest of seconds before once again the women found themselves bathed in only candlelight. "I'm curious about the people in this book, what they were like, why they came here from..."

"England," the brunette finished for her friend. "And I'm curious, too. I just don't want you to be disappointed. It's not a novel."

"Fine," Liv groused playfully. "So we'll be bored."

But at least we'll be bored together, they thought in unison.

"Here we go," Liv began in a steady, clear voice that cut through the sound of the falling rain.

"It is nearing the time when I will lay this accounting to rest, having only decided to add this page at the last moment -- not at all certain of my course of action. This is the family history for the Reddings of Cobb Island. I do not pretend to understand its full importance, for before I undertook this task there simply was not time to explain everything to me. But I was assured by Bridget Redding, my master's sister, that generations to come will appreciate my efforts, and that I know enough. It is not for them, however, that I do this. It is for the people in this lifetime, both good and evil, whose words and deeds deserve to be remembered."

"I have been tasked with placing the history out of harm's way. Out of her way; so that when the time is right, it will have survived to rejoin its grandparents, and kin far beyond that, on the tall bookshelves of this wretched, cursed place."

 

"Laundry list, my ass!"

Kayla just smiled sheepishly and laid a warm palm on Liv's hand, closing her eyes.

"My true name is Afia, but when I was sold to my first master, a textile merchant, some twelve years ago, he renamed me Mary. Six years later, I was traded to Master Redding for two roan stallions. He was pleased with my Christian name and saw no reason to change it.

"I have no family history of my own, for when I was stolen from the shores of my homeland and sold from an auction block like so much chattel, I was permanently separated from my kin. Before I close my eyes every night, I pray Allah will watch over them and keep them safe, knowing I cannot.

"I no longer speak the language of my homeland, a place the slavers simply call 'Africa', although no single word could ever describe the breathtaking beauty of that land and its people. I do not read or write English; to attempt to gain such knowledge is forbidden and carries a price of fifteen lashes. But like the other house slaves, I understand the spoken word very well. So I write this in Arabic, whose written letters I learned in the service of my first master and which I practice in the black soil along the water's edge to this very day.

"It may seem impossible that a mere house slave, such as myself, would know of the many private things contained in these pages. I assure you, it is not. The events not witnessed by my own eyes were described to me in such vivid, sometimes heart-wrenching detail that they haunt my dreams and I fear they always will. Beyond that... the walls of this very house, the trees, rocks, and bushes of Cobb Island have eyes. And but one pair belongs to me."

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

Thundering hooves kicked up a cloud of dark soil as Bridget Redding raced along the shoreline, her dark hair unrestrained, whipping wildly in the wind, the horse's lather mixing with the water's mist and dampening her buckskin trousers. She hadn't even stopped at the house before heading for the stable to exercise her favorite stallion, who she'd sorely regretted not taking with her. After three long months of exploring the mainland alone, she was called home by a sense of duty and unexplained curiosity.

"Whoa," Bridget ordered sharply, pulling back on the reins and slowing the spirited horse.

A wire thin black woman stood up from her task, placing a hand above her eyes to block the glare of the afternoon sun. "Mistress Bridget! When did you get back, child?"

Bridget stroked the large stallion's neck calmingly as the beast huffed and pranced, not at all happy with the interruption of their workout. "It's good to see you, Afia," she greeted warmly, smiling over the mare's antics.

Dark eyes nervously scanned the shore, wondering if anyone had heard. "Don't call me that," Afia warned sternly. "You know what could happen if I don't use my Christian name!"

Two dark eyebrows rose, disappearing under a very wide, round-brimmed black hat, and equally dark bangs. "Cyril is back then I take it?"

Afia pointed out to sea where a large ship could barely be seen around the island's curve, several hundred yards from shore.

A long rowboat had been lowered into the water and Bridget could see several slaves loading crates and trunks into the boat. "The insufferable prig has returned," she commented flatly, removing her hat and wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her forearm.

Afia could only nod, echoing Bridget's sentiments completely. "I must go inside now. It would not be wise for me to be seen walking on the shore as though I've nothing to do." Before Bridget could object, she added. "I need to tell the others he's here." The African wiped her hands on her long skirt and regretfully dropped the rocks and shells she'd been collecting all afternoon.

Bridget frowned and dismounted the stallion, keeping a steady hand on the jiggling reins. "I'll accompany you back here tomorrow. You don't have to stay in the house every minute." But she knew her brother demanded the house slaves be nearby to attend to him at a second's notice.

A tiny smile teased Afia's lips. "It is good to have you home, Mistress Bridget. Come now, you should change into something respectable before Master Redding sees you." Afia shook her head ruefully. "Look at your skin! Soon you'll be as dark as I am. Master will have a fit."

"The sun is not my enemy, Afia." A teasing glint transformed the stoic face into a happy young woman's. "And I happen to think you have beautiful skin."

"Hush, child!" Afia laughed. "You'll get me whipped for sure." She looked back to the ocean and the launch that was now halfway to shore. "I have got to go."

Bridget nodded and remounted, tugging on her hat as she kicked the stallion into a full gallop toward the dock.

"Steer the boat directly into the waves, fool!" Cyril commanded, cuffing one of the oarsmen harshly as the boat rocked dangerously. "Are you trying to sink us?"

"No sir, Master," the boy immediately responded, continuing to row exactly as he had before.

"By God!" Cyril cursed angrily, his eyes taking in the sight before him. A woman clad in thin russet-colored buckskin trousers and a matching shirt sat atop a dancing white horse, its hooves pounding loudly on the dock. A few more seconds and he could see the green-and-red designs that ran down the sleeves of her shirt and legs of her pants and the hostile glint in eyes several shades bluer than his own.

The boat clanked against the dock and several slaves sent by Afia ran over and began unloading its cargo. "Move!" Cyril growled as he pushed aside the slaves and jumped onto the dock. "Still dressing like a savage, I see," he hissed as he strode over to his sister.

"Still dressing like a French royal footman, I see," Bridget coolly shot back, her distaste clear.

Cyril's cheeks went scarlet. "No wonder no decent gentleman would have you and we've been shunned by the entire court!" he answered angrily, preening the long flowing black curls. He was the very picture of English high fashion, from his billowing lace scarf tied around his neck to his long gold-and-black brocade jacket and gray hosiery, which admittedly came from France.

To his surprise, Bridget let out a hardy laugh. "How quickly you forget, brother. It was I who would have none of them." The smile slid from her face. "And our being shunned has more to do with your ridiculous investment schemes than my preference for a companion who wouldn't turn my stomach."

The older man simply sneered, his hand reflexively tightening on the hilt of his sword.

Blue eyes scanned the open sea. "I take it you were successful. After three years I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever return." She sighed internally, one can always hope.

"The island is finally ours." He puffed up his chest proudly, still not believing King George had originally awarded its possession to someone else after his faithful service. His poor business ventures had cast him to the fringe of the British aristocracy. But here he would surely make his fortune, no matter how godforsaken the land was, and return to England in triumph. "Henceforth it shall be known as Redding Island."

Bridget rolled her eyes at her brother's ridiculous vanity.

"Cyril?" A clear voice questioned from behind him.

He turned, not bothering to extend his hand to help the small woman out of the boat, despite the fact that she had a sleeping child in her arms.

Bridget shifted angrily in the saddle, trying to see behind her brother and the milling slaves, causing the stallion to snort and stomp its front hooves.

When the elder Redding turned back to Bridget he was holding the sleeping child, his clean white nightgown blowing gently in the breeze. "May I present my son." He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "Henry."

Bridget's jaw sagged slightly. "The child is your son?"

"Cyril?" The voice was a bit stronger now but Bridget still couldn't see its owner, only a small capped figure.

"And my bride," he continued as though it were an afterthought, pulling a blanket around the toddler.

A woman wearing a thin navy cape appeared at Cyril's side. "May I present Faylinn Redding, formerly, Faylinn Cobb. This is Bridget," he briefly hesitated before continuing. "My sister."

A dark eyebrow lifted, and blue eyes that stood out in vivid relief against deeply tanned skin fixed on Cyril. That was one way to get the island, brother. Although outright purchase might have been the slightly easier path.

Cyril smiled smugly.

Faylinn reached up and pulled back the hood of her cape, revealing a head of flowing red-gold hair and creamy white complexion. She smiled shyly and approached Bridget, heedless of the high-strung horse. When she reached Bridget's side she gently tugged on the tall woman's buckskin sleeve, green eyes briefly drifting over the Indian designs that adorned the leather. When Bridget bent down, Faylinn stood on tipped-toes and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "Hello, sister," she greeted quietly.

For a moment Bridget could say nothing as she simply stared at Faylinn and willed her pounding pulse to slow. Then, with a small shake of her head, she seemed to come to her senses as she slid off the horse, practically tearing the hat off her head. When booted feet hit the dock, she lowered her head and eyes in deference to her sister-in-law's position as mistress of the house. "Welcome to Cobb Island," she said warmly, completely ignoring her brother's impromptu name change.

Cyril stiffened. His sister had never shown him one-tenth the respect she now paid his wife!

Bridget lifted her eyes to meet Faylinn's and held her gaze for several seconds before Cyril thrust the stirring child in his wife's face.

"One of the slaves will take you inside," he directed curtly over his shoulder as he moved back toward the boat, examining the pile of crates now on sitting on the dock.

Having heard his command, a young man rushed to Faylinn's side. Mutely he pointed toward the house, and Faylinn began walking up the small path, cooing softly to the fussing child and sparing several glances backward at the mysterious beauty who dressed like the drawings she'd seen of the natives who lived in the American colonies.

Bridget watched Faylinn until she disappeared inside the gleaming white house. Then she turned on her brother. "She's just a child! You're old enough to be her father," she ground out, knowing that wasn't wholly true but feeling an irrational surge of anger and jealously nonetheless.

Cyril laughed at his sister's sudden fit of temper. "Now now, not everyone chooses be an old maid. She's nearly nineteen. That's more than respectable," he dismissed.

"And that baby looks to be nearly 3 years old!"

"Fine," he huffed. Not seeing any problem. The fifteen-year age difference mattered little to him. All that really mattered was that she already borne him a healthy son, as was her duty. "She was sixteen when we wed, with her father's full permission of course. The Island was only part of her dowry," he bragged.

"Pig!" Bridget spat. What decent family would allow you to wed their daughter!

The Cobbs have spent the last ten years in Edinburgh, far from London's worst gossips, he answered, never having to actually speak the words. "Leave me now, Bridget!" He flicked his wrist towards the woods as though he were dismissing a pet. "I've got work here."

Bridget ground her teeth together. "And have you no concern for the twin daughters you already have?"

"Ah... yes. How are Elizabeth and Judith?" he inquired absently, grabbing a crowbar from one of the slaves and beginning to pry open one the crates.

"They've waited three years for you to come home. You could have at least sent word that you'd remarried and had a child, for God's sake!"

He frowned, running his fingers over his thin mustache. "I'll see them later, when I'm finished here." Their mother, whom he had adored, had died in childbirth. And from that day forward he could barely stand to look at them.

"You named your son after Father."

Cyril nodded, daring her to question his right.

"Good choice," she said flatly. Without another word, Bridget mounted her horse and gave it quick slap on the rump, sending them galloping into the surf and away from her loathsome brother.

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

Liv paused. "Do you know who you're descended from?" she asked Kayla, having become so totally absorbed in the story that she hadn't even noticed when the storm seemed to get a second wind and an occasional clap of thunder joined her voice.

Kayla thought for a moment, using her thumb to gently stroke the soft skin on Liv's wrist.

I don't think she even knows she's doing that, Liv thought contently.

"Judith Redding. She had a son out of wedlock in the early 1700's who kept the Redding name. Except for Judith, Cyril, and Elizabeth, the other names don't sound familiar. But then again, for some reason references to my family during this time frame are really vague and almost totally limited to comments about the strength of their abilities."

"Bridget and Cyril's telepathy was different from yours..." her words were met with a lopsided smile from Kayla, "... ours, I mean. They could hear the actual words," Liv marveled, stretching her legs out flat while Kayla held the book.

"It's terrible that Cyril didn't even want to see his daughters after three years. But in a sad sort of way, I can understand why," Liv offered hesitantly, that part of the tale sticking out in her mind.

Kayla was surprised. She already found Cyril repulsive in the extreme and hadn't even tried to understand his appalling behavior. "Why?"

Liv turned so that she was facing Kayla, seeing the interest written plainly in blue eyes and wanting to share her past with Kayla, even the parts she wasn't particularly proud of. "When my folks were killed, I was 19 years old and Dougie was only six. He's the spitting image of my father, you know. Right down to his curly hair," she grinned fondly, remembering how proud her father was of that simple fact. "I was away at college when the accident happened. A drunk driver hit them on the way home from a local pizza parlor."

Kayla gently squeezed Liv's hand in empathy, understanding that no amount of time could make a tragedy like that completely painless to retell.

Liv smiled gratefully and dropped her eyes from Kayla's. "Aunt Ruth was living in Oregon at the time and so Dougie had to wait at the sheriff's office until I could make the 4 hour drive to pick him up." She swallowed dryly as a surge of grief and guilt that she hadn't felt in years swelled within her and her eyes filled with tears.

Kayla's heart twisted painfully in her chest, but she remained silent.

"When I first saw Dougie, he was sitting at the sheriff's desk. There was all kinds of candy sitting untouched on the desk in front of him. I guess they were trying to make him feel better." She chuckled humorlessly. "Anyway, the big chair practically swallowed him whole. He looked so afraid and... lost, I guess. He was still wearing the same sweatshirt he had on in the accident and there were bloodstains on one of the sleeves. I found out later it was my mother's blood." Liv's eyes lifted to meet steady, compassionate blue. "Do you know what my first thoughts were? When I saw him sitting there all alone, waiting for me?"

Kayla shook her head, mentally bracing herself.

"I though about how much he reminded me of my dad and how much it hurt just to look at him. And how I wanted to run in the opposite direction and never stop." She hung her head in shame, feeling she deserved the aching tightness in her chest her admission had caused. "It should have been how grateful I was that he wasn't hurt, and how much I loved him. But it wasn't," she whispered in anguish. I'm a horrible person. I wanted to leave him there all alone.

Oh Liv. Kayla closed her eyes at the raw pain and disgust in Liv's voice. "And then what did you do?"

"Huh?" Liv looked up and wiped away her tears with shaking fingers, having not really heard the question.

"After you thought about how much it hurt to look at Doug... what did you do?"

A puzzled crossed Liv's face as she tried to remember, her initial reaction at seeing her brother having dominated her memories of that night for so many years. Pale brows furrowed. "When... when he saw me in the doorway, he flew out of the chair and into my arms. We both sobbed until we were sick." She smiled sadly. "And then I took him home."

Kayla leaned forward and softly kissed Liv's tear stained cheeks. Then she moved up and tenderly kissed each eyelid. "You did everything right, Liv," she muttered as she pulled the older woman into a tight embrace. There was no awkwardness or hesitation... only comfort freely offered and accepted.

"Thanks," Liv offered quietly, her nose buried in clean, sweet smelling hair that was still a little damp from Kayla's shower. "I'm sorry. I haven't thought about that in a long time."

"S'okay," Kayla reassured, loving the feel of the smaller woman in her arms and pleased beyond reason that she seemed so comfortable there.

The linguist was quiet for several moments, breathing in Kayla's scent and absorbing the strength of loving arms. "Do you think Dougie and Marcy are doing okay now?" she finally asked, feeling Kayla's body jerk with unexpected laughter.

"I think they're probably having a great time, not having to answer to anyone. I know if I were them I'd be...." then she stopped, knowing that the relationship between Doug and Liv was really more like that of parent and child and that sharing what she thought they were likely doing was inappropriate. Not that I like the idea any more than Liv.

"Eww... Don't say anymore okay. I'm trying not to think about that."

"Me too," Kayla confirmed.

"But even though I've been trying, the thought has popped into my head a few times today. Actually, I'm glad for both of them that their first time will be with someone they love."

"Was it for you?" Kayla asked mischievously.

Liv's eyebrows shot skyward. "How did we get talking about my sex life?" Or lack thereof.

"I dunno." Kayla grinned broadly. "It seemed like a reasonable question at the time."

Liv cocked her head. "Do you really want to know?" She already knew she couldn't stand the thought of Kayla being touched by anyone else so she decided to just pretend it never happened. What could it hurt? It kept her from wanting to wring some unknown woman's or man's neck in a fit of juvenile jealously.

"Nah... You're so old, you've probably forgotten anyway," Kayla teased, glad to be past the moment of emotional turmoil.

"Old! Now you sound like Dougie, " Liv snorted indignantly and rose to her feet. "This old lady could use a beer for her parched throat before she reads anymore. Join me?"

"You bet."

The pair made their way into the kitchen with Kayla in the lead carrying a large candle. A bolt of lightning hissed and Liv jumped, reminded again that this never-ending storm was still brewing.

Kayla sat her candle down on the small kitchen table and opened the refrigerator, hoping that the beer would at least be cool, even though the power had been off for hours. When she opened the door, she let out a loud, vehement curse that scared the crap of Liv. "Sorry," she muttered apologetically.

"Jesus, what's wrong?"

"It's gone. All of it."

The women shared a knowing glance.

Liv turned her head skyward and shouted, "Enjoy your night, kiddies, 'cause tomorrow I'm gonna kill you!"

Kayla shook her head. She was never this much trouble as a child! "Not if I see them first." She grabbed a Pepsi and handed it to Liv, then took one for herself. "C'mon, let's go find out what happened to my great-great-bastard Cyril. We've barely made a dent in the book."

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