Chapter 19

When she reached the group blocking her way, the boy snarled, and reached his gauntleted hands out to grab her.

She walked right through him.

A few feet beyond them, she turned, sighed, and shook her head as though she was sorry for them. Then David let the illusion fade slowly away.

They stood there dumfounded. With all the things they had been rehearsing in their heads, from mayhem to martyrdom, they simply had not considered the possibility of that happening. They stood around silently, digesting this new development, until the next wave of people - the newly opposed Pures - arrived. When asked about Angel, the would be attackers just waved mutely down the path. The new group saw that there were no signs of a struggle, and moved to follow the path in the same direction.

Their movement brought the others out of their shock enough to start moving as well. They dispersed, as they had planned to after the attack. But they simply walked in their various directions, rather than running as previously planned.

In the shadows of the nearby trees, a dark, virtually invisible figure chuckled.

Safely at home, thanks to Robin, Angel shook her head. Lena, Penny, and Robin (or a lack of additional Robins) all confirmed that they seemed to have defused the situation for the time being.

There was a call from the spa, asking whether she could take three appointments that evening. She knew it wasn't urgent, since they had her eCom number and hadn't used it. She called her mother to clear it, and then called the spa back to confirm. She would eat dinner there. She called Robin and asked for some transport, "just in case." She touched bases with Lena, who was in a position to immediately tell David, then went to her room to get ready.

When they arrived at the spa, Angel was surprised to see Robin follow her in and thumb in. Robin grinned, and explained that she was now one of several 'porters under contract to the spa. She got standard employee benefits, and a generous fee for each flit. Not anywhere near as much as Angel got for her work, but generous.

She also told Angel that there was a sort of union for business teleporters, like the one for medical bio elementals. Hers was bigger, but not as pushy. They did have enough clout that certain parts of her contract were less restrictive than their counterparts in Angel's. Especially the no-compete clause, which was effectively missing. Not only could she work for other, similar businesses after her relationship with the spa was terminated, she could work for them while she was working for the spa. As long as the duties didn't interfere with each other.

In case of conflict, the spa would have the priority claim on her services. Not that it mattered at the moment, since it was her only customer just then.

She also told Angel that Mrs. Tabor was somehow aware of the other aspects of her abilities. From the way she said it, it seemed apparent to Angel that her friend didn't know about Mrs. Tabor's abilities.

That's correct, my dear. came a familiar voice in her head. And I would greatly appreciate it if you treated that knowledge as a very important trade secret. Which it is.

They fetched their tablets, and checked their schedules. Robin had one other pick up that evening, and was scheduled to take Angel home after her shift. Angel's appointments were all students, with remaining damage from the cafeteria battle.

The unusual part was the mixture. Two boys and a girl.

Since they both had time, the girls decided to eat dinner in their street clothes and then change into their working clothes.

She was not surprised that the boys were both morfs, with the usual range of superficial battle damage. The girl, however, was a bit of a surprise. She was a prominent member of a group related to the Pures. Unlike the Pures, they accepted - even appreciated - morf induced "powers". However, they drew a very firm line at hybrids. Especially those with a distinctly non human appearance.

Angel recognized her from that afternoon. She had been among the second wave of people coming down the path. Or the third, if you counted the second half of those who were there to trap her as a separate wave. She was from the group that seemed intent on rescuing Angel from the Pures and Pure Sympathizers who had surrounded her. Or, at least, her image.

Angel took extra care with her, making sure skin tones blended and so on.

In the end, Angel ended up with about $200 in tips. And Robin got a $50 tip, much to her amusement.

"I could get to like this," she cracked, when they were alone together.

Angel learned that Robin was in the same Homework club as her. They both knew they were expected to work on it in their free time between clients. And they both knew that help was readily available.

They made the trip home in their school clothes. Angel got home in plenty of time to watch the news with her family, before getting ready for bed.

One of the local items caught her eye. A recently unemployed man in their area had a particularly odd reaction to a version of one of the AMORFS virus triad. While it was not entirely uncommon for MORFS to turn a young adult into a teenager, or even a much younger child, this was a middle aged man who was restarting puberty. The nightmare aspect came from the fact that it had not turned him into a teenager. He was a middle aged man going through an almost unprecedented second puberty.

Various medical authorities speculated about what the unidentified man could expect to experience. Growth spurts, hormone spikes, even acne were discussed. One thing they all reluctantly agreed on was that he was vulnerable to MORFS again. And he was showing early signs of stage 1. Given the unknowns involved in someone that age going through MORFS, he would spend the critical stages under intense medical observation.

There was a little commentary at the end to the effect that he was a member of a group with a particularly high statistical incidence of AMORFS, so authorities did not consider the new variant to be any more of a threat to the general public than the original triad was.

Angel shuddered, having altogether too good an idea who that man was. And what his former job had been. The last she had heard, he was on unpaid leave and only contemplating resigning. But that could have changed. Or the news could have gotten it a little wrong.

Her father noticed her reaction, and grew thoughtful. He had seen it before. Daughter or son, Angel had always had a sense of social responsibility and empathy. But this was something else. Something personal. Sometimes, when they saw news reports of such infections, she took it personally. Other times, she just reacted to the unfortunate circumstances of the victims.

The only thing that would seem to explain it was that she somehow felt responsible for the infections. She had a good head on her shoulders, and one thing she did not have was an overdeveloped sense of guilt. Was it possible that she really was responsible? Or that she had some reason to believe she was?

He didn't know enough about her powers to know whether it was possible or not. But if it was at all possible, he had no doubt that she would have found a way to do it. It was not in her nature to use her powers maliciously. Even when she was a boy, he never used his strength or abilities that way.

But morfs, especially relatively new morfs, sometimes lose control. Especially under stress. If the man in the news report was the Dean, she could well have slipped when he was unjustly attacking her.

And it could work both ways. Those friends of hers, with the rare combinations of morf abilities. Could she have done that, too?

In the end, it didn't matter. He would be there for her, to support her and let her have the time she needed to work things out. And protect her if and when she needed protecting.

The only real question was whether his wife knew. Or suspected. And there was only one reasonably safe way that he could think of.

After she went up to bed, he thought Lena? Can you hear me?

Sure, Mr. O'Connor. What can I do for you?

Does my wife know about that aspect of Angel's powers?

Not that I can tell.

Does she suspect?

Not really. She has had some passing thoughts, but that's about it.

Please don't tell Angel that I know. If and when she wants to tell me about it, I will be available to her. I assume she feels she has good reasons to keep it between the two of you. Thank you for being there for her.

You're welcome. Good night. Lena didn't have the heart to tell him about the others who knew.

Dr. Miller had a lot of questions, and far too few answers. She decided that the next day, while Angel and her friends were at school, would be a good time to check out the spa where she worked. She had heard of the place, with its reputation for impeccable service and haute cuisine, but had never been there.

It catered to a fairly exclusive crowd, but her name opened a lot of doors. She called and made a reservation for a late morning massage. Once she gave her name, she was given a slot without further question.

As the lights in Angel's house went out, the watcher - and his watchers - settled in for a long night.

Angel! Wake up and throw some clothes on! David and his family are in danger, and we might need you!

Angel was wide awake and moving. What's the situation?

Cassandragram. Someone with a grudge against his dad is about to bomb their house.

Are they out?

Not yet.

Get Robin to take them to her house, top priority. Even if they're naked, the empty house frees us to act!

A few seconds later, while Angel was putting a t shirt on, Lena got back to her. Done.

Can you read the bomber?

Yes. But he's hired muscle. He doesn't know who hired him, and he knows that his bombs are not the only part of the attack. The bombs are detonated by remote.

Damn! Time left?

About ten minutes. Start out back. Oops! There was a short delay, and the now dressed Angel ran to wake her parents. Sorry. Lena came back. That was for David. He's searching the house for other bombs.

Ask Robin whether she can sense other teleporters or aporters in action.

Yes.

Can she block them?

She thinks so.

Get her there.

Already there. She'll send the bombs to the reservoir when they get planted.

"Mom, Dad! Get up! There's an emergency at David's house." Angel called through their door, after she opened it. Then, to Lena, Is she intangible?

Not yet ... Yes.

What else did Cassie know?

Multiple attackers. Guy behind them has a solid alibi. Without intervention, David's family would be dead and the guy behind it would get away with it.

Shit!

Really. Wait...

David dropped the bomber.

How?

Made some of his blood into the stuff from your tranq dart.

Ouch!

What does Cassie think now?

David and family seem safe. House still in danger.

Robin?

Safe, as far as she sees.

The clock was still running, and they still had an explosion to avert. What made big explosions?

Do they have any explosives in the house?

No. Wait ... Got it!

David came up with the vital link. Gas. He used his power to block the gas line well away from the house. They had Robin open windows and doors. Cassandra gave the ok.

It was well thought out. The leaking gas would have kept them unconscious, until the relatively small explosions from the bombs would set off the huge gas explosion - destroying the house and the people inside.

With the immediate danger defused, they had time for subtlety. David crippled one of the bombs in a way that made it look defective. Robin 'ported the bomb back into the hands of the unconscious would-be bomber. She then jumped to Angel's house, and carried her invisibly to his side. With all but one finger intangible, Angel was able to simulate a partly healed penetration wound on his neck. It was all but identical to the one she got in the attack on the path.

Robin spent a busy night. Once the remaining bombs exploded at the reservoir, and nothing happened to the house, she returned David and his family to the house. They called the police, reporting the unconscious man with the bomb. Robin short-hopped back through time and through space, invisibly following the bomber backward to the time and place he got his instructions.

Once she found that, she returned to the present for Lena and a vidcam. She took them back, and recorded the exchange between the bomber and the man who hired him while the invisible (thanks to Robin) Lena fished through their minds. They returned to the present, and copied the video to a chip. Robin planted the chip on the bomber before the police arrived.

Her part done, Angel and her parents went back to bed. As their parts in the proceedings ended, the others did likewise.

The next morning, as the friends dragged their sleep deprived bodies to school, Angel found out the rest. For a change, it had nothing to do with morfs. The person who set it all up was a businessman, who was very upset about a legal matter in which David's father represented the other side. He had plans for avenging himself on the clients as well, but their lawyer was his first target.

If the police hadn't found the incriminating chip, they wouldn't have caught him with the transmitter. He might have gotten away with it.

But they did, and he didn't.

The only one of the group who looked well rested was Robin. But to her, it was almost mid afternoon. The others shot her dirty looks.

While they plodded through their classes, Dr Miller was investigating the spa. Her information only served to confirm that it was what it seemed to be, an exclusive, expensive, well run spa. The owner and her deceased husband both came from old money. Their children were grown and successful. The spa employed top notch people, and paid them well. There had been a few scattered accidents over the years, but their record was better than most comparable facilities.

She arrived early for her appointment, and requested a tour. Apparently, from the young lady's reaction, it was not an uncommon request. She was impressed with the facilities, but a few things caught her eye. There were hidden cameras in the halls and many, if not all, of the rooms. Every staff member she saw carried a fairly high end tablet. And the only rooms she was shown, other than the dining facilities, were empty.

The staff was friendly without being familiar, and attentive without being intrusive. In short, they were clearly well trained.

As she relaxed and enjoyed her massage, her mind drifted over what she had been told about the would-be kidnappers. In particular, she wondered about the meaning of the well thumbed copy of "Foundation and Empire".

Sitting in her office, Mrs. Tabor caught that thought, and its context. She shook her head a little sadly, having a good idea about the relevance of the book. She typed a few things into her system, making arrangements for an evening trip.

At lunch, David was muttering something about needing more vowels. While it reminded Angel of a board game with letter tiles and a game show that was on something like its tenth resurrection, she couldn't figure out what he was talking about. She looked a question at Lena, who only rolled her eyes and gestured an invitation for Angel to ask him.

"Ok," Angel asked, "Who needs more vowels, and why?"

"Our group does." He replied, as though it was obvious. "Making an acronym from our names, the best I can come up with is 'FARCC' - maybe the 'FARCC Force' or something. But you know everyone is going to say it like 'farce'."

"What does it stand for?" Angel asked, feeling a little slow.

"Flit, Angel, Radar, Cassandra, and the Captain." He announced, with a satisfied grin.

"We can recruit Otter," Robin suggested.

Everyone agreed that she was a good friend, but they didn't have a good idea how she would fit in with the project. Maybe there would be times when they needed some muscle or something.

In the end, nothing came of the discussion. Almost nothing. It became apparent that all of them really did consider their little group a team of sorts.

After school, Angel learned that she had a couple of late afternoon clients at the spa. The work would be purely cosmetic, and not too difficult. Robin also had some work, including transporting Angel.

When Angel thumbed in, she was directed to Mrs. Tabor's office. When she got there, her employer was welcoming but uncharacteristically reserved. She seemed to have things on her mind - more than the subject of the meeting. Once Angel was seated, she began.

"We have another client for you, if you're up to it. A young woman who is getting married tomorrow, into a somewhat prominent family of Central American descent. Some of her soon to be in laws, who were not expected to attend the wedding, have arrived. If you are up to it, she would very much like you to regrow something long lost."

"I'm at full strength, and the other client requests are pretty trivial for me. It shouldn't be a problem. How ... uh ... discrete would I need to be?"

"This isn't a matter of state. Feel free to leave your signature. In fact, I would encourage it. It seems that some of those relatives may have indirect ties to some of the foes of your one time royal client."

"No problem, then." Angel smiled.

"Let someone know if you need anything." Angel recognized the polite dismissal, and smiled as she stood up and left.

When she got back to the employee area, she called her mother and told her about working late. She said that the spa would contact her if the shift took long enough that an overnight stay was required, and that she would be having dinner at the spa.

Both of Angel's early clients had dates that night (or "social engagements" as her briefings put it), and were getting a variety of procedures done by other staff members. Her parts were fairly superficial. One needed a tan evened out, and a little cosmetic work on the face. The other had a tattoo she wanted to be rid of, and a couple of small scars to be removed.

She had time for dinner and some homework before she needed to get ready for her more challenging client. Robin was busy with some other work, so she ate with a couple of the other employees she had met.

When she started studying her notes for the bride, she saw that she was not much older than Angel. Less than two years, in fact, although she looked younger than that. Her "cover story" was the fact that she was there to get ready for the next day. She would be getting a soak of some sort, a massage, and all sorts of beauty procedures. Her hair, finger and toe nails, and so on would be done to perfection. Her bridal shower would be in an event room at the spa later that night. In addition to the main procedure, Angel would be fixing a few facial blemishes.

When her cue came, she "appeared" and started with the face. Then she moved down to where an operator had just finished removing most of her pubic hair and styling the rest. As the operator moved out of the way, Angel stepped in and got to work.

Without the need for stealth, Angel found the process much easier. She used a balance of her own energies and the bride's, and let it find its own pattern. While she no longer got any thrill from the idea - much less the reality - of having her fingers in another girl's vagina for a couple of hours, her focus on the process kept her from thinking about that aspect. In the end, she was a little tired but nowhere near exhausted. And she felt a certain pride in a job well done.

When she had changed back into her own clothes and gotten ready to leave, Robin showed up to take her home. Angel noticed that Robin looked even more tired than her, and got an impression of her being a little out of phase. Like she had time traveled and wasn't quite back to her "home" time.

They both agreed that they could not talk about what they had done, and that a quick snack and then a flit home would do them both a world of good. As they were munching, Angel learned that she had gotten a tip from the bride. A thousand dollar tip. Either she was incredibly grateful, or the procedure was billed at a whole lot more than anything else Angel did there. Or maybe a little of both. She would eventually find out how much her commission from the procedure was, and she made a mental wager that it would be a lot.

After the snack, and the usual business of getting ready to leave, the trip home was quick and welcome. Robin barely said hello to Angel's parents before flitting home. After exchanging some vague pleasantries with her parents, mostly about "how it went", Angel dragged herself up to her room, quickly got ready, and flopped into bed.

The number two man in Homeland Security was working late. As usual. He found it useful to do some things when he would be free of interruptions. So he did not exactly welcome this interruption, in the form of his door opening. His locked, electronically controlled door.

He was even less happy to recognize the woman who walked in. Moved by a lifelong impulse, he stood to greet her.

"What are you doing here, after hours?" He kept his tone civil, but disapproving.

"You have been a very bad boy, Johnathan. You've used your little group of bigots to push you up the career ladder, and to take your petty revenge on some people. And all that time, you were the very thing you encouraged them to hate and fear."

He worked hard to keep from showing how badly her words rattled him. "What are you talking about?" He asked, with feigned indignity. "More importantly, how did you get in here?"

"Kidnapping, killing, framing other groups of bigots for your activities. Shameful."

He didn't have to take this. She would feel better about him, would respect and approve of his power and position. She would...

"Oh, Johnathan." she shook her head. "Such a feeble attempt to misuse your abilities once more."

He was shocked. She shouldn't have been able to shake off his projected empathy. Especially not so easily. In fact, she should not have been able to do anything with her own abilities. Not in the suppression field flooding his office. It was carefully tailored to allow only his powers of perceptive and projective empathy to operate.

Her look was sad, like a disappointed mother confronting her errant child. "You never did understand the nature or extent of my abilities. Even then, so long ago, you thought I was just a silly girl who could sometimes read minds."

"And your sad little ego games. Really, Johnathan, styling yourself after The Mule? Using that book for your secondary code? Did you really think nobody would put it all together?"

He sat there silently, beginning to comprehend his situation.

"What will they think, those people of yours? Who would believe it? You, of all people ... an illegally unregistered morf."

"You..." He began.

"Oh, no. I have all the paperwork proving that I registered. It was not my fault that the record was lost in that system conversion all those years ago. And of course, I would not have any way of knowing that had happened. You, on the other hand, just hid your status, That was naughty, Johnathan."

She went on. "But you have been naughty in so many ways. So very many ways. The guilt is weighing you down."

He started to become genuinely afraid, as he became aware of the waves of guilt washing through him.

"Oh, yes. You have reason to be afraid. What will they think when they find out? All those small minded people you used, what will they do? And your peers and superiors in the government?"

She let that sink in for a moment, then went on. "There really only seems to be one way out, But you cannot take that step. Not yet. You are not certain what lies beyond, but one thing is clear. If you carry all those secrets and deceits with you, you will never find peace. You will feel so much better when you finish unburdening yourself."

A sense of certainty filled him, as he thought about that. He was startled to notice his hands moving, almost of their own volition. Opening the hidden files, typing out a confession of his status and clandestine activities, laying everything out in detail. It was the most important thing in the world. And it helped him keep from thinking about what was next.

Finally, after working under her patient and strangely benevolent gaze, he copied everything to a datachip. He ejected the chip, and sent a copy of the information to his superior - attached to his resignation. As he handed her the chip, he did feel a sense of relief, of a tremendous burden lost.

But it wasn't complete. And she reminded him about the rest.

"There is really only one thing left to do. You do not want to face those who followed you. Not when they know how you deceived and betrayed them. And your friends and colleagues? You have nothing left to tell them. There is really only the one way. I will let you have some privacy now. Find peace, Johnathan."

With that sad goodbye, she stood and left the room. After the door closed behind her, she sighed at the barely heard sound that made its way through all that insulation. She was sure that the gunshot made a terrible mess of the office. In a matter of seconds, there was another kind of silence. She truly hoped he found some measure of peace.

Downstairs, as she prepared to leave the building, she silently handed the chip to a black dressed woman of her acquaintance. She nodded, smiling mirthlessly at the notion of such a person officially being known as a color. At least, as far as she was officially known at all.

They went their separate ways, without further comment. The woman met up with a teenaged girl, and they walked to a nearby coffee shop. Once inside, they headed toward the restroom and then vanished.

Angel woke up slowly, enjoying the luxury of a late morning. She had a theater inspection that day, at her convenience, and a couple of late afternoon clients at the spa. Otherwise, the day was hers.

That's what you think. Snickered a familiar mental voice. You up for running the Hill this afternoon?

I guess. I have a couple of clients at the spa, later. Will it be before or after?

Before, I think. And it should be an easy one for you. Most likely, she will either be rejected or punished.

How come?

She's from a different, sort of anti morf, group.

Sort of?

They accept people like us, who look completely human and have powers. They also accept those who look human but did not get any powers. But they completely reject absolute hybrids, or even those with significant non human features.

Like David?

They're not as clear on people like David. Some call him an angel, ironically enough. Some think of his wings as a power rather than an animal characteristic. But others consider him a part animal because of them, and reject him. She's one of those.

Why bother with her at all?

We want the down side to be known. The idea that the Spirit of Pope Hill has its standards, and if you don't measure up you don't get what you want. And if you really piss off the Hill, you get something you don't want.

What does she want?

Power. She changes her mind a lot, but she wants to be some kind of elemental or converter, so she can use her power to "put those animals in their places." Not a nice person, inside that pretty little head.

A good candidate for a turn down. Anything else and I would want strong assurances. I don't want another suicide on my conscience. Angel was adamant about that.

Lena understood. She remembered Angel's anguish when she heard about the AMORFS inspired suicides.

Angel had another thought. What about the timing? I can do my theater later this morning, and maybe even take in a movie. But the appointments at the spa are pretty fixed.

Worst comes to worst, Robin can flit you forward or back in time to make things work.

Ok. Gotta go ... I smell breakfast! Angel was already up and moving, wrapped in her old bathrobe. Ok, not so old, she realized. Just not as nice as the new one she would soon be able to wear.

The theater inspection went routinely. She was mostly inspecting recent shipments of snacks and looking for potential hotspots in the concession area. The manager congratulated her on her accolades at the meeting, and left her to it.

It was a little windy as she left the theater. Suddenly, some people were looking above her head and a couple were screaming. She looked up just in time to see some kind of translucent black shield deflect some falling chunks of the building. About the time they struck the shield, she heard the sort of ping and whistle that movies used for ricocheting billets.