Author's notes:

I view these mini-colophons as sawed-off Elsewhere posts, ones where I try to show how I think about writing.

The previous chapter closed with an unidentified someone talking to Sian in a low voice. At time of writing, I had no idea who it was. I just wanted to end it again at the precipice.

During the intervening time, I balanced four choices:

1. The obvious default: Callan. He's been out of the way for a while. I need to develop him so he can have as substantial a heft as Marc.
   
   
2. The obvious counter-obvious: Marc. He's the only other choice in people's minds. But, most people would think I'm pulling another twist on them, to deliberately give them something they don't expect.
   
   
3. The inobvious counter-obvious: Someone else. Perhaps another Power-initiated who's heard of Sian. (I'd have to explain why she thought his voice was familiar.) The audience may see through this as a way to "keep the reader off-balance."
   
   
4. The inobvious default: Evander, so long as the story supported his place, demeanor.

Yes, it's a game. The game is called, "keep the reader interested." If someone tells you the ending to the mystery, you can still enjoy the craft of words, the side plots, the tempo and technical details required to align all parts to culminate in the climax, but the compelling "why" is missing.

One of the rules of the game is, "keep the walls invisible." Some authors use the term "Fictive Illusion." I'm weaving a what-if story. Whatever setting, genre, conventions, I'm asking you to believe in the internal reality of the story.

If the story's reality is such that "you never get what you expect," the audience comes to expect that. They see the game, they see the walls. That works in some stories. Farce and satire come to mind. This is equally lowbrow (I mean, c'mon, it's erotica. I want your blood to be elsewhere than your brain!)

But I want you to believe that it is real for these characters, and, maybe, for you to project yourself into this world and imagine yourself either a visitor or perhaps a principal player.

I wonder who that'd be?

(Those of you just joining here, start with Callan and Sian 1)



"Hey!" Evander and Sian both exclaimed at once. Sian opened the door.

"That won't be necessary, Sian," responded Callan in a low, level voice.

"Like hell!" She stomped free of the car, marched up to Callan and stopped only when she was toe-to-toe with him. "What the hell did you do to me?"

"Do you really want to know? Or are you just looking for an excuse to scream at everything I say?" Callan stopped trying to calm her with Will, and let his voice rise above the Command tone. Instead, he asked his questions calmly, as if this were a polite debate.

Sian wasn't bound by the same constraints. She suddenly stepped back. Her left fist landed square on his diaphragm. Her knee shot up to where his head should have been.

Instead, he smoothed out his overcoat. "Are you done?"

She nodded, but her eyes darted over his shoulder.

Between that and his Senses, he sidestepped Evander as the younger man swung wildly with the steering wheel lock bar. His hand shot out and grabbed the bar, twisting it from Evander's grasp. He dropped it to the ground, then widened his stance to step on it. His glance at Sian gave her pause, and she shifted her weight back to both legs. He turned to Evander. "I said, are you done?"

He lowered his fists. "I always ended up losing on the playground, anyhow."

Callan nodded, stooped down and picked up the locking bar. He stepped back, then twirled it with tight efficiency. "Heavy. Rubber coating gives it a good grip. Good choice." He extended it to Evander. "We're the only ones here, but if you want to lock up, feel free."

Eyes wary, Evander took it. "Okay, got it. If you wanted to hurt us, you would have. Got it."

Sian's eyes were still full of fire. "But what the hell do you want with us?"

"With him, nothing. With you, a talk." Callan turned and strode to the picnic bench. "Want to sit down? It's going to be a while, and I doubt you trust me enough to get into a car with me."

She stood her ground and crossed her arms. "I'll stand, thanks."

"Suit yourself." He hopped atop the table, resting his feet on the bench. "You want to start? I'm sure you have questions for me."

"Sure, why'd you drug her?" Evander stepped in front of her.

"I didn't drug her. Look, you're noble and everything, but, to be honest, she had more in her punch than you did in your swing, even with The Club. You sure you want to play Sir Lancelot?"

Sian sidestepped Evander. "Okay, what happened to me?"

"Well, unless I've lost my touch..." Callan turned and addressed Evander, letting his Will flow into his words. "She'll be all right with me. Why don't you wait in the car?"

Sian snorted. "What do you think this is, Star..." She swallowed the last scornful word as Evander nodded, said, "Okay, I won't be far, so don't try anything."

The younger man looked at Sian, "You going to be okay?"

Sian nodded dumbly. She watched as he walked back to the car. He tried to imitate Callan's display of prowess with The Club, failed and had to stoop twice to pick it up before reaching the parking space. He cast a look back at Sian, then climbed in.

"Okay, that was interesting." Sian turned back to Callan. "How the hell did you do that? Is that how you seduced me?"

"To start with, I didn't do that to you. The only time I used my Power on you, I let you see me, see my soul in my eyes. It's the true me, and I let you look in on it."

She nodded. "Okay, that was at the Brass Clock, right?"

"No, at Harry's. At the party. I didn't do anything to you at the bar, or afterwards. Well, least I can remember."

"What do you mean? Either you did, or you didn't."

"It's not quite that simple. Power leaks. I'm probably expending Power right now, subconsciously."

"Huh?"

"On you. Keeping you calm. I can sense that you've a temper--"

"Look, just because I'm a redhead--"

"All right. But ask yourself this, then. If it was anyone else, would you be talking, or yelling?"

"Talking, of course... all right. Yelling. You're right, I'm keeping it together with you. But that's me. I can't fight you, and I need to know what happened to me." She waved at the car, where Evander was watching them intently. "I need to know what happened to him," she said softly.

"He's fine. It's not even, 'He'll be fine.' He's fine right now. I just made a suggestion, a strong one. If you call him over, it'll be up to him if he does."

"And me? Could you do that to me?"

"I don't do so lightly. And, to answer your unspoken question, I wouldn't, and didn't, do it to get you into bed."

"So that night was all..."

"Yes, all you. All me. No hocus-pocus."