Sharla Winslowe

by Christy Lake and Misty Dawn

  

                Chapter 12. Third Year Summer-Autumn

 

                Part 31: Some Minor Problems (Social Unrest)
                Part 32: An Alternate Home
                Part 33: Andrea's Magic

 

Part 31 Some Minor Problems (Social Unrest)

Gabriel Christian, Ace Investigative Reporter for the Nation's Asker was fairly happy; he was young, he had good health, he had a good job, one that was serving to put him through University, and he had been blessed with a knack that made it fairly easy for him to get women into his bed with uncommon regularity. In the manner of the tired cliché, he was tall, dark, and handsome, and possessed the roguish mannerisms that women seem unable to resist. Though he thoroughly enjoyed his success with women, when the dawn broke and the time to send them on their way with a kiss and fond "fare thee well" came, he was beginning to think there should be something more. Nearing twenty-four -in a year he'd be a full quarter century old- it seemed jetting about the country in pursuit of the elusive Nobel Prize winning news story did not have the same appeal as it had when he was nineteen.

In January he had been dispatched to track down rumors of construction kickbacks on several federally funded building projects. Only a couple of weeks were necessary to stir up enough facts that a Grand Jury was convened to examine contracts in New Mexico. Additional Grand Juries were convened in Nevada, California, Utah, Texas, Oklahoma, and Colorado. His investigations had put the evidence where it could not be ignored. With a 'do something and give me exclusive rights to break the story' or 'do nothing and I will publish the evidence and this conversation across the country', a lot of action was started.

This was not his favorite tactic; but he had long before discovered that when dealing with government agencies, one used what worked. Some stalling tactics had usually been attempted, but a threat of publishing profiles of the individuals, with an accent on shady, questionable practices, plus leaks to other lesser tabloids to get a smear started produced amazing acceleration of acceptance of the cases. It also meant that convictions were rolling in. The Editor-In-Chief really liked when he could put a couple of column inches reminding the public, with "We Reported it First", of the headline from several months back mixed in with a report of a conviction.

A whole new series of contracts had opened up and he had figured that he would have one more company, Caldwell construction, into the Grand Jury mill. Gabriel was based in Denver and Caldwell Construction had a branch company, mainly involved in forestry and irrigation management, headquartered in Buena Vista. They had another one, a heavy construction office, in Littleton. Caldwell had the prime contact for a lot of interstate upgrading in the heart of Denver. Gabriel had traced every source and rattled every branch of the Grape Vine, but no dirt had fallen out. This Caldwell seemed to be something strange, an honest contractor.

In Early June he had met the boss's brat and his girl friend, in Denver. They were supposedly there to install some computer gear. He and Kevin had hit it off and were like old and dear friends in a matter of a few minutes. Kevin's companion, Sharla Winslowe, as Gabriel understood it, and he had once been lovers, but was now only business associates, As if that centerfold red head ever had anything to do with computers, he had smirked, and had remained cool and aloof. To his surprise, he discovered the girl was head of an up and coming computer installation business and Kevin was assigned to help her by his dad's company. Huummm, maybe something I should check...she is most likely some sort of figure head...and what a figure!

Though he spent the remainder of the month in and around Denver digging for dirt to cover the Caldwell Construction Company with, Gabriel was unable to find even a layer of dust. When he did discover something, it seemed to turn into "gold dust" for the company, such as the YMCA/YWCA pool had been dug and built mostly from donated time and materials. He dug about and discovered most of that which was donated had come from the Caldwell Company. His estimation of both the Caldwell's rose to near reverence. They ran a clean company.

In July, Kevin was back, but this time as a sort of special Quality Inspector for the company. No girlfriend this time, so he was ripe for some friendship. They had spent the better part of the night of the third and most of the Fourth of July drinking and carousing. Gabriel felt a bit guilty getting Kevin drunk and pumping him for information, but it did not make any difference. Caldwell still was coming up clean on all counts, even with the unions.

On the fifth of July, while listening to a police scanner, Gabriel heard a report of a really bad accident involving Kevin Caldwell. Gabriel had finally met Mr. Caldwell in the hospital. Somehow Gabe knew he had been right, that though the older man would bend the rules a bit, he was a tried and true crusty old engineer. He held to the axiom of "Safety is First" and would die before he actually broke a rule. Two days later, Gabriel was assigned to another dirty project up in Seattle, Washington. There he managed to write only two hot stories before the doctor involved confessed.

Gabriel had a good two weeks off at home in Bossier City, Louisiana before he was tapped to check out another anomaly. A Free Lancer had reported that two hospitals in City Bluffs were unusually fortunate in their healing rate. This was more to Gabe's liking. He loved doing medical expose'.

The Managing Editor (ME), the Editor-in-Chief (EIC), and the Assignments Desk Editor (ADE) were all in the office with Gabriel. The tall reporter lounged on one of the three couches sat to form a "conversation" pit surrounding a four foot square glass-topped coffee table. The two men in the room were drinking coffee; the two women were sipping tea.

The EIC sitting with one plump bun perched on the edge of a couch, looked severe in a grey twill suit. "We've all some strong, warm feelings about this one, Gabe."

The reporter felt his boss was one fine looking woman, and if she were fifteen years younger... "A real front burner story, eh?"

"It has the makings of a sensational story." The ManEd grinned.

The ADE gave them both a rather stern look. "Harrumph! Yes, so it appears. The paper is providing you with a very decent budget, as close to Carte Blanche as we have ever done. So..."

"We want an extensive investigation Gabe," the EIC interrupted the disapproving ADE before she could get full wind in her sails. "We believe this is another Medical farce, possible a ploy to get more patients to use their facilities."

The ManEd took it and ran with it then. "Gabe, you know the Asker's position on "Quackery" and you know how to dig deep to get to the bottom of the whole mess. We want to bury these people. As this is a grave subject, we've set up a number of interviews with very high powered medical people."

With a grin, while the ADE winced, Gabriel nodded. "You have checked out the tip, I presume."

"The Free Lancer overheard comments made by a woman indicating unusual healing practices were responsible for the incredible remedial rates at the two health centers, the City Bluff's Central Receiving Hospital, and the City Bluffs University Medical Research Center. To illustrate his account the Free Lancer used two cases. The first was of a child that had been admitted a year ago last July with Double Pneumonia. She was near death and hospitalized for a month, then made bi-weekly follow-up visits until October. The second case turned up just this past July, and concerns a child transferred in on a Monday, in an Iron Lung, no less, with a bad case of Double Pneumonia. The following Sunday she had completely recovered and had so much energy that she slipped out of the hospital. She was caught at the City Fair Grounds. Both cases are well documented and could be nothing less than true accounts." The ADE once again proved the validity of her nickname, Windy.

"The Free Lancer's report also indicated that it was really was almost magical as the recovery rates were higher and anyplace from four to twelve times faster than the national average. In a human interest vein, a woman identified as a local Witch with ties to New England, was quoted as saying that last September she realized the Hospitals were blessed."

Even before leaving home, Gabriel had started the wheels turning. A number of Freedom of Information requests were prepared, just in case. A private investigator in Canyon set up a research team to sort through the statistics of eight major hospitals in addition to the two in City Bluffs. Preliminary Analysis was to identify the most frequent type of treatment and establish a time standard for each institution, divided into quarters for the last eight quarters. Though the investigation was of top priority, one of the very first things he did was to visit Kevin Caldwell who was now a patient in the City Bluff's University Hospital Research Facility.

Through his investigation, he discovered Kevin as one of those listed as showing quite remarkable, even impossible, according to one source, improvements in nerves and blood vessels. Such was his improvement the doctors were considering releasing him to an out patient status. The reporter had made it a point to follow his case closely, and in doing so, discovered the Centerfold Redhead to be every bit the computer whiz she was reputed to be. Beauty, body and a brain to boot! What more could a man want in a woman.

Though he tried several "knock'em down" ploys that had always been successful in his past conquests, Sharla Winslowe remained cordial, but cool and aloof. With some grudging admission, he had to admit his early estimation of the young woman had been way off base.

Gabriel's first story after the stringer's was simply the confirmation that super fantastic healing did happen and a description of the mobilization of the testing resources. For the next four weeks, Gabriel filed basically two stories a week. One story would be about a miraculous healing comparing a City Bluffs Patient with a Canyon or Columbus hospital patient with a similar plight. The other Story would be a semi-technical report, normally for page 55, on the different things being tried to identify what was causing the healing.

By the end of the first few weeks of the investigations, it was obvious that across the board, the patients admitted to the two City Bluffs health and healing establishments were treated only one fourth as long as similar patients in twelve other hospitals selected at random as normal for standards study. The number of follow up visits for treatment for outpatients was also found to be greatly reduced at the two City Bluffs facilities. After he managed several interviews with hospital staff and came away convinced that the hospitals were doing nothing extraordinary. They acknowledged that there were some inconsistencies. Some patients were recovering much faster than others and could be released sooner, he decided to concentrate on the irregularities and see what they might return.

Over the weekend, he stirred the pot by sending packages of data to many responsible academic and government people with a promise that if an answer was not provided; his story submission on Wednesday would identify the person by name and position and a statement that evidently the office and individual did not care enough about a year old improvement in healing rates to even look at the data.

*****OoooO*****

The world was getting stranger and stranger. By office closing time on Monday, he had received an even dozen calls. In the past when using this threat, he had kicked off a mild panic. On other projects, he had almost resorted to blackmail, just to get the interested parties to compromise and work together. This time, to his surprise, everyone seemed to become "Hell-bent" on contributing resources, people, and budget reports to better define the search and, miracle of miracles, everyone was willing to share one hundred percent of the data and the interim discussion papers.

In October, The Nation's Asker published an interview and picture of the widow Mrs. Lorraine B. Owens, a very regular volunteer and patient support helper, especially active among children. Mrs. Owens stated, "When I am with them I can truly feel the goddess' power flow and I know I'm helping these children.

When Gabriel asked, "How do you know this is happen, Mrs. Owens?" she replied without hesitation.

"Every week for years, my coven has performed a magic ritual requesting the goddess to aid in the healing of children. The day following I'd go to the hospital and comfort those in the children's ward as long as I could feel the goddess power flowing from me to them.

"Quite often the flow of power was exhausted before I got half way through the ward. For that reason I always began with the most severe cases.

"On September sixteenth of last year a number of people were severely injured when the bus they were riding crashed into them in a freakish set of circumstances.

"That night my coven held special healing rituals. Saturday morning all the members attended the patients in the hospital. That was the start of this moment of the Goddess' Favor. That weekend it seems, the workers in the hospital were blessed and speedy healing has continued ever since."

The woman's statement was printed verbatim and drew tremendous response, some good, some supportive, some bad, and some condemning.

By the middle of October, the frustration level among the researchers was building and even skyrocketing among those strange rumors concerning his friend Kevin. There was no doubt that the improved healing rate was reality, including those released dealing with the young man. There was also no evidence that there was something in the air or in the ground causing it. The super healing did not apply to everyone however, the only corresponding factor seemed to be the original story, Mrs. Owens' reported, blessing of the goddess.

A quick review of the continuing flow of data proved that the patients who had shown extraordinary healing had been visited by those claiming to be either a witch or warlock. Nurses, orderlies, doctors, and other health care professionals who were involved in some sort of spiritual belief said that they could channel the healing energy to their patients and actually seemed to be doing so. Try as he might, the reporter could find no evidence to dispute their words. Mrs. Owens tended him an invitation to witness the local coven's celebration of Halloween Eve. He discovered and confirmed the rumors concerning Kevin. The young man was well on his way to becoming a young woman and no doubt of it, accepting, possibly enjoying the change. The medicos had no explanation, could only confirm the change was taking place and there was no stopping or preventing it.

The week before Halloween, "The World," a competing tabloid, published this list that had been expanded with help of the FBI. A number of the successful "Healers" in the two hospitals had received spiritual training either from local Covens or from a Coven in Burlington, Vermont; Bedford, Quebec; or a Native American Spiritual Center near Denver Colorado.

Following the publication of this list of "secret society" members, bus loads of high school and college youth belonging to the hastily formed "Future Christian Leaders Association" picketed the homes and businesses of the known "witches" in Burlington Vermont, in City Bluffs and The Shaman Center in Colorado for consorting and dealing with Satan to accomplish fake healing. Though noisy and rowdy, there was no violence reported.

Chasing disturbing tips, Gabriel spent Halloween week and the week after in New York City, Boston, Chicago, Denver, and finally in New Orleans. A number of the figures he was seeking, mostly wealthy, had strong association with the resurrected and reorganized American Nazi party, and this group seemed tied to the Nazi Black Coven. Rumors of a government, academic, doctors association, or pharmaceutical company, (take your pick), conspiracy began to circulate. Somehow while he was tracking down the backers of the Future Christian Leaders Association, he managed to make it back to the Bluffs to witness the coven's activities on Halloween Evening.

Late that same week he put some strong feelers out among contacts with links to the spiritualists and assorted magic workers. The feed back he was getting was scary. The healing in City Bluffs was magic. There were indications that a less than savory sect of the magician's world were mobilizing and using the dark magic for personal gain. One report from Rio de Janeiro indicated that the Black Coven of the Third Rich was operating publicly again.

Witnessing the "Witches" activities on All Hallowed Eve had been an eye-opener and added to the reporter's determination to "get to the bottom" of this mystery, early in November, Gabriel visited Kevin at the Winters' Mansion. The man's finger had scarcely touched the doorbell's button when the door was drawn open to admit him by Shelly the French maid doll, or robot, or whatever.

"Good Morning Mister Christian. How are you today? May I take your coat, Sir?"

The reporter smiled, recalling his astonishment the first time he had encountered the animated doll. "I'm fine, Shelly, thank you." He took off his over coat and held it out. It was still a bit un-nerving to watch how the doll manipulated things and his coat seemed almost to float away and hang itself neatly in the foyer closet. "Sharla has done wonders with your voice, Shelly." Though her voice still sounded a bit jerky and monotone, like a decent text reader program, it was a long way from a "natural" sounding voice. "Are David and Kevin about as yet?"

Yes, Mister David is in the Breakfast room. Miss Mary Anne and Miss Kevin will be along shortly. Please walk this way?"

The tall man chuckled to himself. There was no way he was ever going to walk the way the sexy little doll walked. If it was not for the fact she was just about three feet tall and a doll, he would be lusting for those swiveling hips and bountiful tits. No, no way was he going to wriggle his bottom like that! Following the doll, he was again amazed by how his original assessment of "that calendar girl redhead wouldn't know which end of a computer to use" had soared and now, in his opinion, she was a nothing less than a computer wizard. Hell, that doll alone is proof enough of that...I can only imagine the programming and engineering that took!

When Shelly announced him, David greeted him warmly; though it was evident the man who cared for Kevin was still a bit wary of his intentions. This was normal and Gabriel had long ago become accustomed to the average person's mistrust of the media, especially when the subject was as sensitive as "witchcraft" in today's society. This was not his words, but the "ober-title" his editor had tagged his weekly stories with and it had stuck and became the series official title.

While they ate and chatted between bites, Kevin seemed unable to keep his eyes off the tall reporter. After their breakfast, David and Mary Anne made polite excuses and went about their own business to allow Gabriel and Kevin the chance to chat privately over coffee. "You've an amazing story, Kevin. It is one difficult to believe. But, it is a story I would like to tell."

"If you think it's difficult for you to believe it, try believing it from my point of view," the transformed person giggled in a suddenly girlish manner, and then blushed, compounding his embarrassment. They had been friends since May, had shared a couple of nights out on the town. They had even developed a grudging respect for one another as "opponents." Gabriel had been accurate in his facts and reported the truth. Kevin and his dad had come up clean in all the investigations Gabriel had initiated. The young man knew he could talk to Gabriel and somehow as a woman wanted to confide in him. "Off the record?"

"Strictly off the record, if that's what you want, Kevin."

"There something I want to show you, and then we will talk." The altered male rose and left the room. Gabriel had been surprised when Kevin had spoke for the first time today, noticing how womanly his voice now sounded. It wasn't high like his youthful innocent looks would be. It was more like a temptress' alto. A 'bedroom voice' if I've ever heard one!

Once more, while watching his friend's lithe new form in motion, the reporter found it difficult to believe one in his condition healed so quickly. A week after Kevin's accident, Gabriel had visited the hospital. Although Kevin was in intensive care, Gabriel's contacts got him access to the information. At that time he knew it was a miracle that Kevin was even alive. It seemed like his skull and spine were about the only bones that were not destroyed, broken, or cracked. Now this complete change of gender was just too much to ask anyone to believe. Yet, there was no doubt this quiet, elegant, slender and sexy creature was Kevin Caldwell. In the four weeks since the casts had been removed, Kevin had regained all flexibility and mobility. Yeah, and what great flexibility and mobility it is, too! While the youth was out of the room, the man adjudged the evidence; that loose, shapeless off-white sweat suit could not hide all those pleasantly feminine proportions. And I thought Sharla Winslowe was a 'Calendar Girl'!

At Kevin's insistence, after he handed the complete copy from the desk in Sharla's "office" to him, Gabriel began to read the medical records. While the man sat and read quietly, Kevin was more than a bit confused. This can't be happening. The enormity of what he was thinking, as well as what was expected of a girl, struck the boy like a physical blow. It is happening! And it is going to happen to you, just as you are imagining. Sitting there watching his friend read, the transformee imagined Gabe very slowly pulling up his t-shirt and revealing his firm torpedo-shaped "C" cup breasts. The boy was somehow proud of his very girlish, maybe about a thirty-six, twenty-six, thirty-six inch figure.

The way his body was reacting to the solid masculine shape and carriage of David and especially to Gabriel was confusing. This was so strange! Not so very long ago, he'd have been the one to be conducting this seduction. Now he was the one being... hoping to be seduced! He was now a girl Kevin would have loved to seduce. He was now the sort of girl any man would love to seduce and do so without qualm. He liked his Karen shape and the sensations he was able to draw from touching his substantial breasts and other parts. You may as well get used to it! For several seconds the transformed male looked steadily at his friend. While he sat there, it suddenly occurred to him he was seeing Gabriel as handsome, but not as a man sees another man as handsome, he was seeing his friend as a handsome "rogue", as a woman would see a man. Some inner voice trounced on the remaining spark of his manhood and said, why th' hell shouldn't I see Gabriel as a man? I am a woman, or soon will be!

For those several seconds the transformed male looked steadily at his friend. While he sat there, suddenly, almost as it had been waiting for the cue, he felt a gut-wrenching twist of his insides and somehow knew instantly what it meant. He'd been warned it could come at any time now. "Oh Shit!" The boy cursed softly. "I'm sorry Gabriel. Something that I need to attend to has come up. Will you excuse me, please?"

Sensing the urgency in his voice, the reporter realized this was not a moment to stand on proper protocol.

The girl rising within wasn't really all that surprised. What greeted him "down there" wasn't a surprise. It was when the boy pulled the sexy sweatpants down, then the Lycra panties to expose once again that which was not there that he was mollified. It was the absence of the dark patch of pubic hair he'd borne for years. "Ghad, I only hope Gabriel likes baldies! Damn those HairZappers anyway!"

Sliding his new hands down between her shapely legs for a little exploration, he was greeted by wetness. When he raised her hand up, he got the shock of his life. Blood! There was blood on the hand. The last ray of masculine hope died in that heartbeat. Boys did not have periods. Girls had periods! My first period? "DAMN!! Mary Anne!"

At the sound of her friend's outburst, Mary Anne ran to the door, "What's wrong girlfriend?"

"I think I got my...um, uh, my period." The ex-boy felt her face flush with a crimson blush.

"Oh shit! We're out of tampons!"

"You can't be serious!" Looking around for the box that she, as a boy was once ashamed of, but as a she, now needed, she sighed heavily. "In a house full of girls? That's impossible!"

"I just can't seem to remember those things!"

"So what do I do now? Sit on this pot for the next week?

"Okay...don't get your bra in a knot! I'll get you some. It's my fault anyway; I used our last one this morning."

The door sighed shut and the boy in the girl's body heard someone run out of the bedroom and the door slam. About fifteen minutes later the blonde returned, breathless, with a box of tampons. She thrust the box through a crack in the door. Blood was slowly trickling out of Kevin's curvaceous body. He was just too ashamed and scared to tell his ex-lover, "Hey, I used to be your boy friend; you'll have to show me how this is done." The boy decided to act like this was the way everything should be, like this was normal. Quickly reading the instructions he put the tampon in.

Inserting the tampon actually made it feel a little like his outsides were on the inside and told him he would very much like to feel something very different in there. I guess I should quit thinking of me in the male pronouns now.

Several minutes later, after cleaning up both her body and the bathroom, she went back into the bedroom. "Thanks, Mary Anne."

"You okay?"

"Guess I'm all girl now, huh?"

"Yeah...now you'd better get back in there and talk to your guest. You know how Sharla is about him being left alone in this house."

"Oh shit! Sorry, Mary Anne. It's the blonde in me."

"It's going to be okay, Kevin."

Moments later she was back in the Breakfast room and now drawn even closer to her moment with Gabriel; she now had not the slightest doubt of it going to happen. It was the "when" that concerned her now. She didn't want to appear too easy, but knew she would not be able to hold out long in the face of a concentrated come on delivered by this male.

"How complete is the transition, Kevin?"

"Oh, you'd better call me Karen Anne from now on," she smiled prettily, tossing her long hair back in a totally girlish manner.

"Alright, Karen Anne, aside from the obvious, how do you feel about you, about your changes?"

They sat staring at one another quietly while Karen Anne explained all the myriad feelings to Gabriel. Even as she spoke she realized she was not as upset about changing as it seemed she should be. In fact, it seemed she rather enjoyed and looked forward to continuing her life as a female! Finally finishing with, "I don't know how to be a girl!" as Mary Anne returned, pausing briefly in the doorway.

"Don't worry; you'll have the rest of your life to learn." From across the room, Mary Anne grinned broadly. "Sorry to disturb you two love birds, but it is time for Karen to do her stretchersizes. Then it's off to the mall for a bit of shopping. Karen is going to need clothes to match that figure."

Man, am I that obvious? The new girl asked her new self. I DO like Gabe, but I didn't think it showed so.

"It's okay, I gotta go now anyway. I've lots of people waiting talk to me about new developments in the hospital story." He saw the slight look of disappointment flash across the girl's face and it pleased him to realize she liked being with him.

Unaccountably, Gabriel took Karen Anne into his arms and held her loosely, gently stroking her sides and upper flanks. His large hands on her body felt great through the soft material of her sweat suit and she began to feel her insides melt. Karen Anne felt certain he was going kiss her, and then wondered why he didn't when he suddenly dropped his hands from her sides and then backed away. "I'll check back in on you later." Gabriel suddenly turned away from the winsome wench his friend had become and gathered his notes and things. He raised a hand in the air. "How's about I meet you both at PIP's? I'll buy lunch."

"About one-ish?"

Mary Anne lifted an eyebrow in mild surprise at Karen Anne making the suggestion and at the wording. Something-ish was such a girlish expression!

"I'll buy lunch." Gabriel offered, distractedly repeating his offer, and then chuckled at Mary Anne's surprise. He had the grace to blush and shrugged.

"Bye." Karen Anne stood in the breakfast nook staring after the departing reporter a long moment.

"Don't worry, honey..." Mary Anne grinned at her sexy friend. "You just keep it on simmer, love. Given half a chance, he'll stir your pudding soon enough," she said, the comment reminding the new girl that as Kevin he'd quite often said such rude things to her.

"Oh ghad, that sounds horrid." The suddenly blushing girl made a wry face as they moved through the house to their bedroom to repair the damages to their makeup by the ravages of time, food, and drink. "Will this be okay, or should I change?"

"Yes, they do sound horrid, don't they? Get used to it. I picked that little cutie up from an old boyfriend I had. No, no need to change. The sweats it'll be just fine. We're going to be doing some power shopping; you'll want to be able to get in and out of your clothing easily. You may as well get used to hearing them; men seem to think women like to hear such things. But I don't think your Gabriel is one who feels it is necessary to belittle the woman."

Mary Anne grabbed a three by five index card she had used when she had taken the necessary measurements the day before and they were off.

With a dour-faced David following along, to carry the spoils of their war against over-inflated prices, and Mary Anne's expert help, the gregarious giggler bought the basics of a working wardrobe; several sturdy bras and panties, heavy tights to wear under her snug khaki trousers and blouses, and a good winter coat. There was, it seemed, enough of the male left within her to see to proper garb for work. Karen Anne had every intention of returning to work for her daddy. Just because she would be dressed a little different was no sign of diminished ability!

This was not to say there was not a place for frills and lace in Karen Anne's new life, and the brace of bold blonde beauties bought bundle of baby blue and soft pink slinkies, guaranteed, so teased Mary Anne, to attract and hold Gabriel's attention. That Karen was so obviously infatuated with the tall, dark, handsome reporter continued to embarrass her, especially when, over their lunch with the aforementioned hunk, the blonde seemed compelled to accurately describe every bit of frilly lace on all the soft silky undergarments they had purchased.

By the end of that lunch, Gabriel was thankful David and Mary Anne were there to take care of delivering the new girl and her goodies home, because he did not trust himself around this bodacious beauty the sharp dude he'd known in Denver had become. He did not want to seem to come on to Kevin/Karen too soon, to be accused of taking advantage of her naïveté. After lunch, Gabriel went back to ferreting facts.

The tall reporter went to speak further with Mrs. Owens. The woman explained that Kevin had accomplished at least a year and maybe two years of recovery in the last month and a half. At that point she also explained that she believed it was because of the goddess that Kevin was changing to a woman. Gabriel returned to the Winters' mansion several time the next week, and working closely with the entire group of youths involved, though Sharla Winslowe was notably absent on each visit, he came up with a story of Kevin's change to Karen, both true and sensitive, that everyone, including Ms. Winslowe, en absentee, approved of and agreed to his request to submit it to the paper for publication.

The mid-November issue of the Nation's Asker proclaimed, "Kevin to Karen!" in bold headline, with "Rapid Healing Process Changes Man to Woman!" as the sub-headline. The reporter was as appalled as the rest when he read the completely reworked and edited story the paper ran.

Within days City Bluffs became swamped with people wanting either a sex change or information on quick sex change. Kevin was unable to go anywhere or to attend classes without being hounded by reporters and people wanting sex change information.

Late in November during the Thanksgiving break, a local group of the recently formed Future Christian Leaders Association, FCLA members picketed the City Bluff's Hospital and clashed with the sex change people. After being dispersed, some of the mob still seeking a confrontation recognized Sheila coming out of a grocery store and seriously injured her. Only the timely arrival and intervention by the police prevented her from being torn apart. Robbed of their prey by the Police and Ambulance personnel taking Sheila to the hospital, the mob, in their frustration, decided to trash her house.

Sharla had been monitoring the mobs. She modified the wards surrounding Jenny's and Sheila's home. A person totally committed to property destruction could get through the first ward. Once through, the second ward inverted their immediate emotional drive. Hate became love, destruction became construction, intolerance became consideration, and aggression became forgetfulness.

The mob raced into the driveway of Jenny's house and then suddenly slowed down and walked around to the side and then back onto the street and then quietly, quickly dispersed. All their anger and hostility was gone. Reporters and police walked through the outer wards and then they forgot why they wanted to go to the house.

Other individual people were not as easily influenced. In Colorado, Vermont, as well as in City Bluffs, the FCLA set up and then began to harass every member of a healing coven or medicine lodge. The organizing group, the "Future Christian Leaders Association," managed to direct enough people that it became impossible for any of the Magic Users to appear in public. There were a number of confrontations between the police and the members of the FCLA but no blood had been shed...so far.

  

Part 32: An Alternate Home

Oklahoma Hideaway

The week before classes started, Sharla had notified the university that she would not be able to attend the fall semester, but hoped to return for the spring semester. Andrea had been helping Sharla review documentation to determine what should go to the office and what should go to the magic work room under the Winters' house and what Sharla would keep in the main part of the house or give to Andrea to use.

Andrea found the folder for the Ouachita Knoll bid and sale confirmation. Reading through the background articles that Jenny had copied and placed in the folder, the blonde noted that the name of the last individual identified had the same name as Mom's mysterious father.

Follow up was one of the things that had been put off. The demands of many installations had Sharla hopping. Her Method of Operation was to get the Company Expert or Expert-in-Training to take the equipment out and get it transported to the location. Sharla would translocate herself to an empty stall in a building near the office, and then walk to the job site. Installations went pretty fast and as soon as it was up and running she would leave the company representative to explain it. Sharla would then leave the view of security cameras and do a translocation home

Since the middle of October, she had been sending "Her cousin Charles" to do the actual installation. She had experimented with generating an illusion to hide the fact that she was a good-looking guy. The ongoing changes in her body made it almost impossible to hold the illusion.

She needed another base of operations. It was about mid September when she decided to explore the Ouachita Knoll Property. The pressures of keeping up with Sheila's demands for information and insistence on rehearsals were really swamping Sharla.

"I'm really lucky. To be able to get a boost from my Green Battery when I need it is a big help," Sharla sighed softly. A moment later the redhead rematerialized on the outside of the outer ward protecting the Ouachita Knoll property. It was as though she had installed wards and took her but a matter of a few seconds to project her awareness into the sub-sub basement and modify the talismans that protected the property. Then as though doing so regularly, she converted the outer ward from diversion to simple access, keyed to the same access ward she had placed on the basement of the Winters house. Okay now the inside ward, gently. Gently. Gently. She decreased the intensity of its components. There was a bit of a seismic shock as the time flow within the inner part of the ward matched the outer world, skipping the almost fifty years separating the two as if not existing. Not too much of a quiver though, only 2.1 on the Richter scale!

As the intensity of the wards decreased, she noticed the rivers of energy, the ley lines that had been pushed deep into the earth, were gradually coming back up. When things seemed to be back in balance, after almost four hours, Sharla moved into the Talisman room in the sub-sub basement of the building under the bluff. There was a big, roughly rectangular rock, about four feet wide, almost three feet high and three feet deep, sitting alone on a dirt floor. On top of the rock, were three items; a twist of wire, a tangled handful of leaves, and a notebook. The twist of wires to the left side was the basis of the inside ward. The tangle of leaves and vines on the right was the source of the outside ward. Placed exactly in the center the notebook, a simple spiral bound two-hundred page college ruled notebook like those she used in school. It was clear that many items had been added to the pages. A white label had been posted on the front cover. The label said, "To My Beloved Grand Daughter."

Carefully, a very curious Sharla reached forth and flipped open the cover. A neatly typed page lay loose inside the cover. It said: 

"Dear Grand Daughter.

I am sorry that I do not know your full name. I do know of your need for a safe refuge for you and a great many of your friends. I also know that eventually you will need a base of operations. I know you have the ability to control "The Power," and probably a lot more than myself. I want you now to know that this location is favorable to our family because a distant ancestor of mine, Erin O'Malley, one of the first white men in this area, did good deeds. He made spiritual contact with the local people and was granted spiritual permission for him and all descendents of his to use this place of power.

I have been blessed with the ability to construct this facility. The US Government gave me the license and contract to do the construction and supply. President elect Eisenhower did not want to become involved in expanding the activity of Omega group so the government then erased all documentation of the work.

Originally this was supposed to be a research center and clandestine espionage operations headquarters. The new administration did not want to be involved and the project was stopped. I bought it with a government insured warranty deed. I can tell that your last name is Winslowe and your first name begins with the letter "S." You will find a complete transferal deed in the office safe.

Buried deep beneath the land you will find a completely separate military complex with dormitories for enlisted personnel, and private and semi-private quarters for the Officers and Senior Non-Commissioned Officers. All told there are facilities for up to 250 full time regular personnel to support and provide security for the research facility and headquarters.

In the main compound of this building, you will discover that it has been built and furnished much like a luxury hotel with forty-five suites. You will also discover that it has furnished apartments for up to one hundred-forty-five additional people. On the Ground floor you will find a lobby with a number of offices and services. Directly behind the Lobby Reception Desk, is a very complete ten-bed medical treatment facility with three operating rooms. There are three different sized kitchens. A dinning/meeting room, which has movable partitions suitable for larger groups, is available in the other wing.

I have used the best design talent to plan this facility and the infrastructure for supporting the main complex as well as the complex for support personnel. In the firm belief that technology will make very rapid growth before you become the owner of this land and come into your powers, I have installed the latest in teletype and radio equipment. When the government wanted to disown the project, they sold it to me with the understanding that I would remove all the communications and power lines from the complex's power station to the terminal substation at the corner of the adjacent section of land. Although the original plans called for all power lines and the facilities for connection at both ends to be underground, I had everything above ground. I have removed the wires and stored them in the generator complex.

Do not worry too much about this facility being detected. Even after you remove the wards it will be protected. The use of iron and steel has been minimized. The concrete for the most part is pre-cast and stressed. It is reinforced with the long fiber asbestos. A copper screen has been built into the outer surfaces of every structure and is deeply and well grounded to reflect, absorb or divert any stray electronic transmission and send it deep within the ground.

This notebook is but a quick overview owner's manual for the Ouachita Knoll complex. Detailed Blueprints and operating instructions have been filed but there are a number of security facilities that you need the combination for. All those are recorded within this notebook. I suggest you put a not-legible ward on the notebook. Do I need tell you this is the only copy of this notebook?

From your Grandfather with all my love;

Shawn O'Malley"

P.S. I know the Time Stopping Ward works, so I have completely stocked this facility and refilled all the tanks with all the proper liquids. In a few minutes I will initiate the wards. It will take the inner ward about 720 minutes to completely freeze time inside it's' bounds. The outer ward should be in place, protecting the entire center of the site within about 100 minutes. Love and best of luck. S.O.

*****OoooO*****

A quick review of the buildings, Sharla was more than willing to do it out of body, revealed freezers full of frozen goods, warehouses fully stocked with dry goods and canned goods, and several huge fuel tanks, completely full, and a whole bank of diesel powered generators.

Following instructions on the first tab of the notebook, Sharla started one of the generators and got power flowing to the refrigerators, freezers, and air circulation fans.

A quick out of body examination showed that all the food was as fresh as if it had been put in the shelves during the last week. Just to be on the safe side, Sharla took one of the big, wheeled fire extinguishers that were in the generator building and constructed an operation to monitor the and control the Power Generators and the monitor the fuel. She called it a Wattage Waiter.

A quick shift and she was in the lobby of the main building. In the glow of the electric lights, she confirmed her quick earlier assessment of a very high quality hotel. Down the wall from the Front desk was a small Coat Room. Inside she constructed a transfer receiver box. A quick search located a door and frame in the supply area. She transferred that to the basement of the Winters Estate and located it in the concrete wall under the back of the basement under the garage. Her design had the people entering the door under the garage. Once the door was closed and locked, the other door could be opened into the Lobby of the Ouachita Knoll complex. It was normally one way. Later she could create another portal going from another room in the hotel complex to another location, maybe a door on the Winslowe Enterprises Loading Dock.

Satisfied with her achievements, the redhead shut everything down and went back to the mansion for some much needed rest.

  

Part 33: Andrea's Magic

Andrea could see herself lying in the street - a naked unidentifiable corpse.

No! She screamed inside her head. I don't want to... No, I won't end up like that!

The toughs were behind her. They hadn't made an offensive move yet, but Andrea knew it was just a question of time. There was no doubt in her mind of their intent. It was as if she could feel their filthy hands on her skin, their rigid bodies between her legs. Involuntarily shuddering with revulsion, she fought to keep panic and tears away, to keep calm, remain rational.

She knew that if she started crying now she'd never stop. Panic is like that. Fear is like that.

The worst part of it all was the realization that she was about to become a cliché. Andrea had an instant mental image of how the scene would play out, straight out of a late-night television rerun of Law and Order.

"Whose girl is she?"

"Who knows?"

"Does it really matter?"

"I'm bettin' she' just another ho."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"Hey man, they's all ho's."

The young witch hadn't been walking along the street long when they had begun to follow her. The idea that she could be suddenly reduced to such an anonymous statistic shook her to the core. Forcing such fear from her mind, she headed towards the all-night diner at the next intersection. She was sure they would let her sit at the counter and wait out her stalkers. Incongruously she noted one of them carried one of the plastic shopping bags with one of her favorite shopping haunts label on it.

What made it bad was that she knew all three of them, from their rowdy rude behavior when she made visits to the shop; knew they were just a gaggle of street-wise young toughs without enough brains between them to open their own beer can. Together they fed and egged on each other's quests for delinquency. The "Rydell High Gang" wannabes were rising to new highs of violent behavior. Whenever they were together they were always trying to convince others, and themselves, of their "gang" status.

The girl had mucked it earlier in the day. One of them came into the office and insinuated how lucky she was that he was willing to let her spread her legs for him. Andrea wasn't amused and said something snide in return. At the time, she'd thought it was perfectly delightful, biting, and humorous. She'd gone on about her business and forgotten the incident. Until she'd gotten off work and decided to walk to the mall and see if there was anything interesting on sale. Since becoming a girl Andrea had learned she loved to go shopping.

Forgetting her audience's intelligence quotient, her wonderful sarcastic wit was lost on them. They had evidently taken her serious. Apparently they were now out to remind her they were not amused. In short, she was about to be bruised, screwed, and tattooed!

The diner door seemed a zillion miles away.

Keeping her eyes on the welcoming warmth of its well-lit interior, she sensed the dark shadows moving slowly but steadily along behind, glimpsed one occasionally in her peripheral vision. Ghad, it's so quiet! It suddenly dawned on her how empty and silent the street was. The old movie cliché popped into her mind without humor. It's quiet. Yeah, too quiet!

This time of day one would expect to hear street sounds. Wasn't that's what streets did at night? Didn't streets have all sorts of sounds? Cars roaring by? Horns honking? A lot of residential chatter? In the distance, sounds of more cars and more horns? Right! All she could hear was the clatter-click of her heels on the pavement. The rest of the world's sounds had faded into a white noise, something in the background.

Easing towards the diner, she mentally kicked her butt for not paying more attention to the lessons taught in high school health and safety class; how to keep from becoming a victim when walking alone.

Walk with purpose, but not with fear.

Don't run.

Act like you know where you're going.

Don't run.

Don't show fear.

Don't run!

Andrea was gauging the time it would take her to get to the glass doors of the diner. Suddenly she decided that her H and S teacher could get bent! She was making a run for it! On your marks! Get set! G...

An instant before she made that little step that leads into a dead run, hands grabbed her by the collar of her blouse and thick waves of her blonde hair. She was jerked into the alley behind a small neighborhood bakery. The action was hidden from any possible passerby by the dumpster at the alley entrance.

The young witch heard the fabric of her blouse rip from collar to hem down the back, unbelievably thinking, of course, the damn thing couldn't rip on a seam, could it?

Broken glass littering the area tore at her skin, imbedded sharp shards in her knees and palms as she fell heavily on all fours.

Blood pounding through her ears muted the brutish voices, but their intent was clear enough. Hands pawed at her body, fumbling under her clothing while they attempted to turn her over. The hands tore at her skirt as she tried to scramble away. Andrea knew she'd survive the group attack, but she was thoroughly pissed about her clothes. The intended victim kicked up and back with one foot. With satisfaction she felt a sharp heel sink into the doughy stomach of whichever one had grabbed her from behind. The other two grappled her, forced her onto her knees.

Roughly, with no concern for girlish sensibilities, her arms were jerked up, back, and then forced behind her in a "double-hammer-lock." It was a hold Frank had taught her after being attacked and brutalized by Jerry Tanner while she was still a boy. It was a hold nearly impossible to break, even for a boy. The remains of her blouse were torn from her. The light sports bra containing her breasts was ripped off and tossed aside.

Excruciating pain tore at her shoulders. Her body hit the ground, hard, forcing most of the air from her lungs. Suddenly, she knew what it felt like to suffocate! Andrea heard her remaining breath whoosh from her lungs as a booted foot planted itself between her shoulder blades and forced her breasts painfully against the cracked paving beneath them. The girl could feel the heel of his boot digging into her back, and felt a small rivulet of what she assumed was blood begin to flow along her spine.

Gritting her teeth against the agony of her pains, she sagged under the weight of the man standing over her. Self-preservation took over. The teen decided they'd be done with her faster if she stopped fighting. No use angering them any further. Andrea relaxed her arms and lay flat against the concrete, concentrating on the rough surface against her cheek instead of dwelling on what the rest of the evening might be like.

Closing her eyes hard...she'd be damned if, on top of everything else, they saw her cry. Suddenly it occurred to her she'd be dead within a few minutes, if she didn't do something, and do it soon, to prevent its happening. Then she reviewed what she had been taught by Naomi, Jenny, and Sharla.

The Thug behind her jerked his hand backwards and it felt like her hair was about to be torn from her scalp in chunks. A face came right next to hers. His breath was rancid and hot and stung her eyes even through her tightly closed eyelids. "No one disses me in front of me homies, bitch!" His voice was barely audible, his words slurred. These hoods had obviously fortified their group-bravado with a bottle or twelve of Molson's Best beer while they waited for her to get off work.

Damn. Double damn, Andrea thought. Goddess help me, I've really and truly screwed up this time!

Suddenly, from the depths of her mind came a two line rhyme...something from one of the books in La Caisse or somewhere. Whipping over onto her back, she glared hotly at the three and said in firm, clear tones,

"For this dark evil you bode..."

"Spend this night a toad."

There was a sudden shimmer in the air before her.

CRACK!

The air had become charged and then a lightning bolt formed and connected to the fire escape across the alley, ricocheted off and split into three. Each of the streamers sought and entered the top of a boy's head.

In the next instant in place of the three attacking youths, there were three toads about the size of her hand squirming out from under three piles of clothing. The teen stared a moment, then in a state of mild shock, gathered the three amphibians into the front of her skirt and began looking for a container to carry them.

Damn. Double damn. Andrea thought. Now I know I've really and truly screwed up! I just hope Sharla is home.

The teen found a discarded pasteboard box, folded the clothing into it and then placed the three toads into it. One of the punks had been carrying a department store sack. When she picked it up she discovered a pack of new T-shirts. Quickly opening the pack she slipped a shirt on to cover her naked breasts. Damage to her blouse and bra was very extensive and the garments were useless.

Carrying the box in front of her, she rushed to the diner to call Sharla. Darn, I guess I best break down and get me a cell! Maybe in a nice pink?

Naomi answered and in a few minutes was there to pick her up. In the meantime, Andrea had called home and told her parents that she wanted to study some things with Naomi and so, would it be all right to stay with Sharla for the night?

*****OoooO*****

"Hey, dudette...what's inna box?" asked Naomi as the blonde teenager entered the car. "Goddess! Kid, what happened to you?" The shorts and tee clad Shaman-in-training was suddenly aghast. Her young friend's torn and dirtied garments denoted a serious occurrence.

"Nothing special, just three boys I turned into toads. They tried to beat me up and rape me."

"Gribbit!"

"You did to!"

This was not like Andrea. The teen was too serious-minded to play games. "Oh?" The tall Native American could not contain the note of disbelief in her words. "Do tell."

The teen popped open the top of the box to reveal three toads. Gently she lifted one out of the box.

"Grriiibit!"

"Oh be quiet! I'm not going to hurt you."

"Hehe," giggled the older girl, going along with the game the teen seemed bent on playing.

"Well, it started this morning when I had to go out on the loading dock. When Mike, the ugly one here, told me, 'Girl, you look like you'd be one fine fuck,' I snapped off, 'Oh yeah? Well Mikey Aceinahole, I'm the finest piece you'll never have!' and went on about me business, never even givin' it another thought until..." Grinning broadly then, the blonde haired witch began telling the ebony-haired witch the rest of the story.

"..and then suddenly there they were, three toads just sitting there in piles of filthy clothes looking up at me. Ghad! Boys! I don't think they ever change their underwear!"

"Gribit!"

"Well, they stink like you never change!" Then she turned her attention back to Naomi. "Well I didn't know what else to do, so I rounded them and their clothes up, stuck'em all in that box and then called you."

"So where'd you get that awful green pocket Tee shirt?"

"It was in a bag. I think Mike must be part girl. He must've gone shopping on his lunch hour."

Naomi laughed at the absurdity of that. Boys didn't do lunch shopping. "Okay so where did you get that spell?"

"I've no idea. I'm guessing that I read it, or something like it, in La Caisse and it just hopped into my mind and I jumped on it."

When she stopped at a signal light the older girl looked over the flaps of the carton held in the younger girl's lap. "How're yer pets doing? "They're so darned ugly they're cute."

"Gribbit!"

"They're all green...and yucky looking."

"Gribit!"

"Quiet!" Both girls said and laughed. "Snap!" They said together again, and then did a "high-five" across the seat.

'They're green because the goddess gave them a natural camouflage, silly."

"Gribbit!"

"No. They're probably green about the gills wondering if they are going to remain this way for the rest of their lives."

"Gribbit!"

"Hehe. That's a definite possibility, girl."

"Well, what do you think we should do with them?

"Take them to the park and let them loose?"

"Frog leg soup sounds yummy...."

"Gribbitt!" chorused up from the interior of the box.

"You'd best go home with me tonight. Your Mom'll have kittens if you showed up with your clothes in tatters. Sharla is in New Mexico right now but she should be back before morning."

"Fine by me. I already called and cleared it with Mom. Besides, I want to be there to see how you change them back." The teen carefully folded the lid back into place to protect her charges from further harm.

"Hon, we may not be able to change them back. You cast the spell. It may be such that you will have to un-cast the spell, if it can be done. There is a chance they will remain toads. I can not even tell if they are male or female toads."

"Grriiiibbbbiitttt!"

The tall girl parked the car in the garage and moments later they were in the kitchen and Shelly was silently serving them teas prepared by Maggie the Caterer.

"Squirt, I see what has happened and I have listened to your description. You believe what you are telling me. But do you know how impossible this is?" Naomi could no longer disbelieve as she examined the contents of the cardboard box and saw the evidence.

"Naomi, I know that it is not possible until I'm twenty-one, but..."

"But, but! Before Sharla or I can begin to unravel this, we have to figure out how in goddess name you changed their physical body, and girl, it looks like you managed it all the way down to the genetic level. What happened to the mass? Another question, was it your magic? You said that it happened in the alley behind the Bakery. Strange things've been known to happen at Bakery Back Doors!"

"Another thing. Remember, anything is possible. The spells on La Caisse insure that you will be a full witch by the time you are 21. Nothing in the spells indicates that it can not happen before then."

The Indian cocked her head as if listening. "There's Sharla now. I'll go in and prep her." Naomi suddenly blushed furiously when the double meaning of her words struck her.

"Take your time and "prep" her properly." The teen smiled as the older girl's blush turned to deep crimson clear down to the tops of her thighs below the hems of her short-shorts.

Twenty minutes later Naomi returned to the kitchen.

"Sharla will be here in a few minutes! She wants to shower and then she will see if she can help."

"Gribet?"

"Quiet!" The girls spoke in unison again.

*****OoooO*****

In the basement workroom, Sharla created a circular ward and then gently dumped the three amphibians out of the box into the warded area. She dumped out the clothing. "Andi, I thought you said 3 guys. I have clothing for a girl here!"

"The creeps tore my blouse and bra. I dumped them in the box and put on a new T-shirt one of them had bought." Andrea replied.

"Well, this bra sure is too big for you, and I do not believe that you would wear anything such as these tap shorts." The older girl held up a garment that bore a strong resemblance to boy's boxers, but of satin and had no fly in front.

*****OoooO*****

Early the next morning, after the forlorn trio of former ruffians, now a demanding female and two docile males, had left, Sharla, Naomi and Andrea drifted onto the patio Shelly the maid had set up for the girl's breakfast. You're not really upset with Andrea...are you? The tall shaman-in-training smiled as the exotic doll bustled about.

"It seems a bit odd how easily Mike accepted becoming a female."

"Not really. The way I got it, Mike has always harbored a powerful jealousy of the female. And he did finally admit that he had wanted to be a girl all his life. I'm betting it was his jealousy that prompted his rude attitude towards women." Naomi and Sharla stared a moment at the teen. "Ghad, can you believe any girl that big, being that gorgeous?" The teen turned her attention to her food.

"We'll need another setting, Shelly. Andrea is staying for breakfast." Well. The Goddesses have names, and that's where some witches are confused. Sis said she called upon The Goddess...that was taking a chance. She had no idea which of them would answer her call. Though she had her voice, she and Sharla many times carried on conversation on both levels. Their minds had become so linked together it was easier than speaking. "Well, I must say that Mickey certainly filled that Tee-shirt and those cut-offs of Charlie's I gave her to wear out of here."

The "maid" set the table for a third guest. The place setting floating along before the mini-maid was a sight that made Andrea giggle. "Thanks, Shelly. I'll have my regular shredded wheat biscuit, the skim milk, with orange juice, unbuttered toast and a cup of tea. Those jeans of his were never going to fit those hips and long legs of hers. She must have transferred three inches of torso length to those fantastic legs."

Wicca has but one God. The tall Native American nodded. "Just like you did. Girls have shorter torsos and longer legs, Andi."

"Well, it was a bad situation that just happened to turn out well. Some how I doubt we've heard the last of that tiresome threesome though." Sharla flicked a sharp look at her sister.

Naomi quickly rescued the teen. "You've made the swim team I take it?"

"Yes, though Coach Wytte gave me such a glowing recommendation I doubt I'll be able to live up to the college's expectations." The plight of the three former toads was quickly dropped as the maid bustled about the table.

"Tell Maggie I want one of her fabulous cheese omelets, Shelly." The older witch knew that at the moment, from her own past experience, she would most likely not have been thinking specific goddess either. She would have been calling on anyone available to help her. If I knew I was gonna get beat up and raped, I'm not sure I'd be thinking specifically about who could save me...

Who would be the one to call on in such a spot? "Make mine a Denver omelet, Shelly, but I want coffee, not tea."

I think the Silver Goddess, or Moon Goddess is about as close as we have come to naming her.

She was calling on The Goddess... As in God help me!

The Goddess has many faces. She should have used The Goddess Diana Mantra:

Luna, Luna, Luna, Diana, Bless Me!

Bless Me, Diana, Gracious Goddess,

You who are the Queen of the Gods,

And the Lamp of the Night,

The Defender of all that is wild and free,

Mother of woman and man, lover of god,

The Protector of all The Sisters, I pray,

Descend with your Lunar Ray of Power,

Upon my circle here!"

That is the proper Invocation to the Goddess. Sharla smiled as their breakfast drinks floated through the patio doors and settled onto the table in front of them.

Oh, I know all that. But darn it, Andrea was a scared spitless eighteen year old girl, and in fear of her life. It's doubtful anyone would be thinking formal invocations. She sipped at her coffee to hide the slight frown she would have shown had she not done so. Sharla could be a little pig-headed at times.

Hon, what I'm saying is these are daily chants detailed in La Caisse. She was aware of being alone on that dark street, so the protection of Diana shouldn't have been far from her lips.

The blonde teen on the hot seat fiddled nervously with her fork, silent and vexed, if not as contrite as Sharla had seemed to think she should be. Heck, the spell had worn off on its own, hadn't it? Even if accidental, it had been worded to be finished with the end of night. It wasn't her fault it turned out the way it had!

Yes, prayers and invocations that are said daily prayers and such are great. But, Andi was not in a daily prayer setting. Naomi's tone decreed her frustration with Sharla's refusal to listen to reason. One cannot be expected to go to such lengths when one is in fear for one's life. It just does not work that way.

Never mind, it's not that important, I guess. Like 'Now I lay me down to sleep'...

Sharla, we use all that at appropriate moments. The scene as depicted did not warrant flowers. It needed bare knuckle action!

Oh, never mind!

It was happening too fast and was confused.

"You're right, the psionic sighed finally. I really do appreciate the input, but it just isn't correct for her to be casting spells of dubious consequences, even in one's defense."

Oh I know that, and you're quite right. Naomi ladled a spicy sauce over the omelet in front of her and took a bite, savoring the morsel a moment. I guess we'd better begin teaching her...

The redhead sighed, just one more thing to add to the list of Things To Do Today.

"Well, it's about time! I thought you two would never get around to recognizing all that talent going to waste!"

Both Sharla and Naomi dropped their forks and their jaws to stare dumfounded at the young girl blithely munching away on a slice of toast, as if nothing was amiss.

The soft hoot of an owl drew the attention of them to the far end of the patio where sat in full plumage a large, very large Snowy White Owl staring back at them.

"Chick, I am sorry to have left so quick before, but everyone knows that when the Black Jaguar shows up it is best to be scarce. Just being around that one is dangerous. There seems to be no limits to it and it seems to be interested in your doings. I am interested in your sister."

The Golden Cougar was walking out from behind the Owl. It seated itself and curled its tail around and across its' paws.

Andrea, Sharla, and Naomi could clearly hear the comments to Naomi. "Little Kitten, this white chick is a powerful focus. She needs to have a wand to release the action."

The Cougar and the Owl faded, pulling them into the spirit world, the over world. Sharla held back, letting only a small bit of awareness penetrate the esoteric plane.

From Sharla's limited perspective it seemed like the White Owl had a half size companion. To her eyes, there were two Golden Cougars. She realized that the smaller owl was Andrea and the cougar on the left facing her was Naomi. '

The Cougar and the Big Owl seemed to make eye contact and then the Cougar continued, addressing Sharla. "Little One, I see you as a small kitten, my friend sees you as a small chick. Since the Black One seems to be interested in you, please stay small while we are around and maybe the Black One will stay away."

"Andrea, our young chick," the Big White Owl boomed, very clearly heard by everyone. "You have the ability to control much power. Come with me and learn." The White Owl started flowing across the grey landscape towing the smaller White Owl. Andrea's Physical Body was sitting at the patio table with a mouth full of food.

"Owl! Wait! Pay attention to the Chick's physical body!" Sharla demanded.

Both owls immediately returned. The Big White seemed to see the physical Andrea for the first time. "Andrea, Little Chick, I will see you again at first light tomorrow." The Owl and the Cougar then vanished, leaving behind a question floating in the minds of the three human beings.

Did you see the Black Jaguar?

"We didn't see it, but we heard it!"

Andrea sat there, stunned for the moment. The Great Owl is going to teach me to use my Power!

  

  

  

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