One last box.

Torrent directs the Crow Girl to place it on the others. He had arranged storage to still allow the couch and table to keep its space, while the majority of the room now stored her things from the apartment. One section was marked off for her art, and the gifts still there to be given in the future, something for each of her "grandchildren". He smiles, remembering the portraits of their parents in small gilt frames. She had even created one for Star's unborn child.

He fingers the image of Keon and Cassie, with Star and Erik. Mera's portrait was a little different, having her parents and foster parents. The Brownie tries not to let the moment pull his memories downward. Grace was not gone. Herne has chosen her for something to which none of them were privy, and that was enough. He places the framed image carefully with the others. A locket falls from her supplies and he opens it, hoping to remember who she wanted it to go to.

A smile curves his thin lips. His true features stares back at him, along with Grace in a younger version. he opens the clasp, hooking the silver chain around his neck. He finds a note as he stores her brushes.

Drmak,
I cannot tell you how much our time together has meant to me. remember me as fondly, and with as much love, as I will remember you. I will find you, Drmak. I promise. Herne says I can find you in any Realm, since I am no longer tied to the one of my Birth.
I will find you. Our time is not done.
Grace

Locking the back room, Torrent settles at the table outside to await Tori's waking.

Herne rises from his seat. He nods to the Goddesses and waits as they say their goodbyes. Spring slips from the dancers, hugging Raina tightly. She grins, tilting her mask just enough to kiss her cheek.

"Don't get too drunk. I'll be watching."

She skips to Erik and Star, eyes twinkling. "You are so lucky, Erik. Star is good for you. I can't wait to see your son. He will be beautiful... A shining knight..."

Summer presses close to Keon one last time. He draws her into the shadows, slipping her mask up to kiss her thoroughly.

*"Is tú mo ghrá, mo Gealach. Is fada liom uaim do lámh bog san uair an chloig meánoíche."

Her fingertips caress his cheeks, stroking along the blue strand in his hair. He touches the dark strand in hers.

"I love you Keon Blackthorn. I am here." She touches the tattoo on his chest. "Think of me and you will feel me."

Autumn drifts next to Spring and touches Star's shoulder. She looks up, eyes startled. Rising, Star wraps her arms around the woman and it is obvious both are crying. The Goddess whispers in Star's ear and then takes Spring's hand. The two drift toward Herne, saying goodbye to others as they meet Summer at his side.

Laila looks at Star, concern written across her face. "Are you alright?"

Star nods, her wet eyes meeting Erik's own. "She told me to take care of our son and you are a good man. As good as my father was."

Winter pauses, looking over the assorted People. She has danced, drank, and enjoyed herself with an abandon she had thought long gone. Torrent kisses her hand with a promise that should she come back this way, to look him up. Tori hugs her, getting last minute instructions for some things left behind. She even presses a kiss to the masked cheek of Mortuis after hugging Silk.

It is when she stands before Jack that she removes her mask completely. She takes him by surprise, cupping his face and kissing him deeply, tongue teasing his in slow strokes. She breaks the kiss with a "mmmmmmmmmm" and slips the mask in place. "I will be seeing you Jack. Save me a... dance, maybe even horizontal."

With that she is gone, taking Herne's extended hand. The Lord of the Hunt drifts into the shadows with his four companions. One moment they are there, the next, there is darkness.


*I love you, My Moon. I miss your soft touch in the midnight hour.

Grace looks around smiling behind her mask. So many people... She did not know she had touched so many lives. A hand touches her arm, and she looks into the sparkling deep blue eyes framed by the flowers and pale green leaves of the mask of Spring.

The silken robe that matches the mask is spring green and pale yellow, bringing to mind the pale daffodils that Grace always bought from the florist each spring.

The young woman points at her sister dancing with her lover. Then at Erik and Star standing with Keon. Both Star and Keon have left their hair hang loose. The tips of their ears peek through the shimmering falls, exacting nothing but how lovely, or realistic, their costumes are. The trio looks up as four robed women approach them. Herne appears just as the foursome are close enough to speak quietly in the noisy throng.

"May I introduce to you the Goddesses of the Seasons."

"Spring"

Tara inclines her head, titling her mask up slightly as she raises her head. She winks at Erik. She quickly drops the mask in place, adjusting her flowing pale robes regally.

"Summer"

The mask, of deep green oak leaves and acorns, and robes, of sea greens and turquoise blues, had seemed oddly compatible. Her robe is fastened with an acorn broach. She extends and elegent, pale blue hand and raises her eyes to meet Keon's.

His breath catches and he smiles, bowing over her hand. He kisses the acorn ring on her hand, brushing his lips surreptitiously over the pale skin. "My favorite season..."

"Autumn"

The woman in golds, browns, and reds takes a step closer to the trio. She lays a hand on the still flat plane of Star's belly. Her hazel green eyes darken slightly to a deeper brown. She blinks, dislodging tears. Star steps back into Erik's arm, staring at the eyes in the mask of fall colors. Tears fill her own eyes when the woman whispers "My baby is having a baby."

Star's lips move as her eyes swirl through a kaleidoscope of color changes. She tries again, the words barely audible. "Momma? How"

The woman nods, and gathers Star into her arms, slipping her mask up just enough to kiss her daughter's cheek. "Thanks to Grace. And Lord Herne."

As they part, she dabs Star's cheeks, then wipes under the mask, replacing it and stepping back into place.

Herne bows his head to Star as her mother steps back. He nods to the last figure in snow white and ice blues.

"Winter."

Grace nods regally to the trio, smiling behind her mask. They begin to nod back, but Keon pauses as the woman cocks her head to the left slightly, tilting as if seeing something others do not. He grins and reaches out for her hand. She lays a pale hand in his ebony black palm. As he leans forward, he mutters just loud enough for their group to hear. "You just couldn't stay away from your own party, could you."

Her eyes flash merrily as Mera gurgles and claps in recognition, reaching for Grandma Grace. She caresses the baby's cheek. "Never could resist a great party, and the "Others" in this town threw me one hell of a wake. I was surprised when My Lord Herne suggested it. Once I met Star's mom... well... I was allowed some companions."

She gestures to the three other women. "They are now my family through all of you. I had to bring them." She leans close again. "Once, I was alone and lonely. Thanks to all of you, I am not, anymore."

Grace smiles, reaching out to stroke Star's cheek. "He will be a special little boy, Star. You already glow."

She claps her hands once. "Now. I have a last request, and as I have learned quite a bit about the different Peoples assembled in this room, I know it will be honored." She looks at Ike. "Did you bring it?"

Ike nods, handing a velvet sack to the old woman. She pulls out a set of Irish pipes. Torrent takes them with a smile and hands them to Tori. She shakes her head no, putting her hands out to ward off the instrument as if it held the plague.

"Ye have no curse lass. 'Twas removed by the one who set it, as it was set for no good reason by Brownie standards."

"Please Tori. My last wish is to hear the high stepping music of Ireland. I grew up listening to it. I want to hear you play the pipes. I am told is a gift you have hidden away." Grace smiles at her, "I understand you won't be playing alone."

Ike pulls out a penny whistle and grins at her sister. "Just like old times Tori..."

Herne stands and reaches within his robes. He hands Traeger a set of Taps."I don't know what you can play Master Witch."

Traeger looks at the two sticks in his hands and smiles. Memories of his days in the Irish woods, among the farmers during celebration come forward, as if it were yesterday. He taps the rods, sending up a steady rhythm to get the feel. Tori watches him, fingers running over the bagpipes Torrent has pushed into her hands.

Ob caresses his hand over the taut goatskin of the bodhran Herne has laid in his hands. He taps the double headed mallet, picking up Traeger's beat. Stoney takes the penny whistle from Ike joining the two with a lively melody. Tori absently pumps the bellows. As ike joins in on a small guitar. Keon grins as the Horned God hands him a fiddle. He picks the strings, following Stoney's lead. Stoney pauses and Keon sets bow to gut, counterpointing his bright air. There is a momentary pause as Keon and Ob play off each other.

Herne leans close to Tori as he turns back to the bed. "Would you forsake her last wish?  It will not bite you."

That said, he sits upon the edge of the bed. The children are bouncing to the music, making Grace smile. Still Tori does nothing. Ike bends her head to bring her strings back into play and suddenly the pipes burst into life. The music surges out, copying Keon's fiddle The pace picks up and Traeger and Ike add their own instruments in a rollicking race.

The trill of the pipes dances over the deeper tones, like a sudden flash of lightning over the roll of thunder. Everyone is clapping along, tapping their feet, or as in the case of the children, bouncing. Miko and Mya dance on the air, adding demifae high spirits to the mix.Suddenly the music ends, just stops. There is a breathless pause, softly broken by the trembling sound of the guitar. The pennywhistle joins, quieter, more subdued. After the rush, it is as if one has found the peace of a high meadow.

A low moan of the pipes brings the sigh of the breeze. The fiddle brings life back to the quiet, mixed with the tap of the drum and sticks. It segues into a lively reel, to which Miko and Mya dance a jig on Grace' desk. There are tears in Grace's eyes, laughter and merriment having banished the melancholy.

Herne touches Grace's hand. "It is time Graclyn."

Grace nods.

"Now... out to the other room please. I will be out shortly." She watches a gloom start to replace the gay attitudes of the moments before. "Stop it. All of you! My life has been like that music, wild and spirited in the last year. Now, I need the peace of that meadow, then will be back among you all." She grins. "Play music like that, like what we just enjoyed, when you spread my ashes."

As the room empties, Grace calls back Torrent and Tori. Herne stands and moves from the bed leaving them have a few moments.

"The two of you have been more to me than mere companions. Tori... Once my friend, you have become my daughter in all things except birthright. When you my will is read, you will find there is a fund set up for each of the children. I have made you Trustee. There are bonds for each of them that will mature in 21 years, Human years. There is also one bond in my name. When Star's son is born, roll that into his name. Something told me to get just one more." She smiles. "Actually, it was Guunnar. He took me to the bank that day."

Tori nods, trying hard to hide her distress. Grace holds out her hand to Torrent. he takes it and sinks to his knee.

"Drmak. If times were different..."

"Graclyn, you are more than I ever thought would come to me. I am happy to have had this time with you."

Grace kisses his gnarled knuckles where they wrap around hers. "I have been blessed Drmak Torrent. I had my husband Mathias in my prime years until his God took him, and I have had you in my final year to show me how not to fear what is beyond."

Torrent leans forward and gently kisses her lips. "And I can now truly say the my life has been touched by the love of Grace."

She pats his cheek. "I love thee too, Drmak."

Torrent rises, kissing her hand, and bows. "Come Tourmaline. Lord Herne waits to escort her Home."

They leave the room quietly, closing the door.


The conversation in the living room is muted. Cassie and Tara visit with their families, cramming in as much time as they can. A short time later, Grace is standing among them, Lord Herne and Matthias flanking her. The years have fled, leaving her skin nearly unlined, her hair a deep auburn. She kisses all the babies a final time as Cassie and Tara say their goodbyes. One moment the five are solid forms, the next, they are mist, slowly fading from sight. Grace waves one last time, blowing a kiss to little Tara.

"Oh, send in Stoney and Alise. I want to hold the little ones."

Rowan nods and opens the door. She speaks quietly and opens the door wider for Stoney and his family. Grace pats her bed, opening her arms to the little ones. Tomas nearly fell out of Stoney's arms, struggling to get to Grace.

"Tomas, relax. Grandmere is waiting to hug you." Stoney struggles to keep a hold on his son.

He stops squirming the minute he is on the bed with Grace. His hands touch her face and she smiles at him, kissing his fingers.

"Thank you Tommi boy. I know you want me better, but I am not going to get better until I am free of this body."

He looks at his crying twin and back at Grace. She holds out her other arm for Tara. Alise lowers the wide-eyed little girl into Grace' embrace.

"I am not leaving you, Tarabelle. I am just leaving this body behind me. Your mama was a spirit at one time. Did you know that? I used to see her every now and then when I would take a walk by the big house we all stayed at when daddy went to Keon's homeland." She smiles at Aise. "I never told anyone. They would have thought I was crazy, you know."

Grace is relaxed. This is something she has been waiting to happen and holds no fear for her. "I am going to tell you a secret." Tara's eyes fix on Grace's own, the tears slowly stopping as she picks up on Grace' calm demeanor. "I used to wish I could be like your mama. No pain, no worries about making enough money to live. I was ready to be like your mama even then."

The little girl watches her intently, a small frown on her face. Everyone else was so worried, yet Grace was happy. Tara turns her head to look at Herne, then looks back at Grace, then her parents.

Stoney smiles, "No Tara. He is not her husband. That is Lord Herne. He is..." Stoney stops, trying to think how to explain exactly what Herne is. There is a rumbling laugh from the foot of the bed.

"What I am, is Lady Graclyn's traveling companion on the first leg of her new existence. Do not worry little one. Your Grandmere will be able to visit."

Grace smiles. "Like your mama's mama and Cassie, Mera's mama." Tara looks around.

"No sweetie. She is not here right now. But I hope to see her soon. Are you alright now?"

Tara lays her head on Grace's side, hugging the woman. Moments later she squirms to the side, leaving room for Gracie. Alise lowers Gracie into her arms and Grace smiles. The baby coos, grasping one of her fingers. Grace looks up at their parents.

"Now stop. I am not going somewhere I cannot visit from. My Lord has promised me that I can visit my new family at will."

There is a tap on the door. Ob peeks around the door.

"I'm sorry. Chloe wants in NOW. She says Abuele needs all the little ones. may we all come in?

Grace smiles as Torrent shifts a few things around. The bedroom is not large, but there is little in it. She watches as they all file in, Guunnar leaning against the doorframe, with Mortuis and Silk right in front of him. Chloe points, giving them all an image of her and Mera sitting on the bed with the others.

"Do you want more company, Grace?"

The woman smiles. "Of course." Chloe gives an image of a kiss from daddy's arms, then sitting on the bed while Mera and Gracie snuggle in Grace's arms. Ob laughs and leans forward so Chloe can kiss Abuele, then settles her on the bed next to Tara. She pats Tara's arm, then stares at Herne.

"No Chloe, your rattle did not come from his antlers. Your rattle came from a deer."

Herne's laughter rumbles the room again. "You have found a special family, Graclyn. Very protective grandchildren..."

Keon looks up, startled as a hand slips around his waist. Cassie lays her head on his shoulder, startling him. He reaches out to touch her cheek, not quite believing she is there. Her lips brush his cheek and she snuggles closer.

"Cassie..." She smiles up at him. "My Goddess... how?"

"By special request, Lord of Hounds. Graclyn asked for three to escort her on the beginning of her new road. A powerful number. I could do naught but honor it. Only two can take full substance for this time, the third will be as he is, true spirit."

Grace looks at Cassie. Wrapped in Keon's arm, her eyes are on her baby, unshed tears shining. "Star? Do you mind if Cassie holds Mera?"

Star's eyes are wide, sliding between pink and blue, extraodinary shades. "I wish I could ask you what the colors mean, Star. But there are so many, and I don't think I could ever catch just the right colors in my art. Sorry... I am an artist, right to the end..."

Star giggles. "Cassie? Do you want to hold Mera?"

Tears slowly slide down Cassie's pale blue cheeks. Her voice is little more than a whisper. "Ohhh, yesss."

Star picks up Mera and holds her out to Cassie. The Water Nymph sniffs back her tears as she gently strokes her baby's cheeks. Keon holds them close, determined to remember this moment. Grace motions to her desk and Torrent pulls out her portfolio.

"Star? Please? I started this, but I didn't know just how close I would be. Could you finish this for me? A gift for Keon to pass on to Mera."

Torrent takes the canvas to Star. It is Cassie and Keon, holding their infant daughter. The sketching is nearly done, missing only a few things to bring it to completion.

Star nods, words lost as she picks up a pencil and begins to finalize the sketch. A soft voice startles both Erik and Raina. "Trust Erik to find a wife who wields a pencil as well as he wields a sword." The young girl giggles. "Your vampire is very handsome, Raina."

Stoney looks at the girl, then at Alise. "Mon Dieu..."

"Tori, go back to your family. I am just going to rest."

Grace settles back on her bed as Tori fusses around her. Torrent  wisely stays out of her way. When she is sure Grace is comfortable, the Gargoyle flips open her laptop at Grace' desk.

"I'm not going anywhere. Neither is Torrent. You are not fooling us at all Grace."

Grace smiles and closes her eyes. "I know Tori. Never play poker with a Gargoyle or a Brownie..."

A robed figure steps from the shadows. "You would never win, Graclyn. I, on the other hand, would clean them out."

His antlers seem insubstantial, disappearing into the shadows near the ceiling. The Horned God settles on the foot of her bed.

"I promised I would come to take you home, Graclyn. I have seen that you have matters well in hand. Lord Torrent will call your ghouls upon your passing. Perhaps it would be best to call your friends soon."

Torrent walks from the room, cell phone in hand as Tori sinks to her knees by the bed. She looks up at Herne, then Grace.

"Now?"

The Horned God dips his head. "Now. Before there is more pain than Graclyn can tolerate. Perhaps you would call your family? I have already sent a message to Keon. The Fae will help escort the French Gargoyles home. I doubt me not that he will hurry back."

Grace smiles. "He will. Can I see the babies before we go?"

Herne leans forward, taking her hand.

"We will go when you say. I promise to hold the Reaper's hand at bay until you have said your goodbyes."

The click of keys is soft. Tori is returning emails, and corresponding with what Grace likes to call her agents. Agents of what, Grace had no idea. Torrent was stretched out on the couch, althought she knew just how lightly he slept.

Grace lays still, breathing in the soft sounds. After so many years alone, having people who care this deeply almost scares her. Her thoughts drift to the quiet plot where her husband was buried more than thirty years before. She smiles. Jack has always taken such good care of the grounds. Now she knows him and appreciates the sweet man behind the sarcasm.

Her plot has a bench near it and space for a headstone. But she didn't want a plain stone, unless it really LOOKED like a stone. She decides to talk to Jack, ask what he thinks would look nice. Her husband had wanted nothing more than a small marker, but he had loved flowers, so instead she had planted a garden. Maybe a small statuary. She could talk to one of her artists.

She doesn't want to be buried. Cremated, after the Misters Sweeney and Mole take their preferences... her ashes spread in the woods... make her plot somewhere nice to sit in the cemetery. So many older people visit their loved ones there, like her. A nice place to sit. That would be lovely. She didn't think Mathias would mind. Maybe she should have Jack ask him. Just in case.

Torrent hadn't looked well when they got out of the jeep. By the time they had helped her to bed, he looked much better. The metal of the jeep had taken a toll on him, and she knew he had fed her energy earlier, just like Tomas. He needs to stop. She sends a silent prayer to Herne, asking him to guide her friends and adopted family through the days to come.

Rest Graclyn. Mathias has no problem with your plans. He has loved his flowers for all these years, just as he has loved you. Torrent will not listen to your pleas. He has sworn to make your passing as easy as he can. Soon Graclyn. Soon I will bring you home to My Woodlands.

She feels the words more than hears them. Tori's typing stills. Torrent rustles, waking. There is a muffles conversation in the living room, then quiet. She is sure they have felt His presence. A few moments later soft footprints enter her room. Her own voice is quiet, a mere whisper, but she knows they can hear her.

"It is alright my dears. My Lord Herne was merely making a visit. It won't be long now. Tori? Will you make a few notes for me? Something I want done when I... cross the Veil..."

"Beautiful..."

The word is soft, a mere breath, but it was heard. She misses Gareth's smile, staring in awe at the manicured lawns and the flowers entwining a small arbor. Torrent guides her to a padded bench then disappears, returning moments later with a cool drink.

She points out an upper balcony, telling the Brownie Lord about a party she attended her in the early 1950's. While the town itself is invisible from the home, the firework display was spectacular. Her eyes are distant, lost in the memories. Torrent smiles as she points out different parts of the property, telling scandalous stories about people long gone.

"As lovely as it was, it never looked this beautiful. They had a groundskeeper, of course. The people who owned it were monied, but he never had a touch like this. It looks like something out of a fairytale."

"Funny you should word it that way, Miss Grace." Gareth emerges from the shadows, smiling.

"You did this, Sir Gareth?"

He inclines his head. "It is amazing... absolutely amazing!"

Just then Lobo bounds past, chasing a ball. He captures it and trots back to where Stoney is helping Tomas toss it for the him. Wolf lounges nearby, keeping an eye on the children as they play. The ball rolls wildly past him and he cocks his head, watching. Lobo sits, watching Wolf. He lumbers to his feet and saunters over to the ball. Picking it up, he walks to Tomas and waits for the little boy to reach for the ball. When Tomas has it in his hand, Wolf flops down and stares at Lobo.

Grace laughs. "Now there is a show of this is how it's done, brat. "

Wolf gives her a canine grin, yawns and gets comfortable. Lobo sprawls next to him, only to bound away when Tomas rolls the ball again. Grace laughs again, hand clasping Torrent's as she watches the little ones play. The Brownie's eyes fill with tears and he blinks them away. He knew he should take her home, her energy was dropping, but he knew these times were precious.

His eyes meet Gareth's as the Sidhe Knight lays a ring of wild roses on Grace's lap. There is the knowledge of her short time in his ageless eyes. Torrent grins at the surprised expression on her aged face. The small flowers have a soft fragrance that envelopes the trio. Torrent smiles, recognizing the variety.

"Fairy roses... Set the ring in a dish of water and they will never fade."

Grace touches the petals, eyes shining. "So many miracles today. The children, being an adopted grandmother, the amazing work you all have done here, the roses..." She looks up, glancing around. "The best part is knowing that it hasn't all been my imagination. You are real, every last one of you. My husband used to smile at my fancies, but you aren't fancies..." Torrent's hand closes around hers.

She sighs. "You don't know how much my life has been enriched, just meeting my wonderful new family."

Grace hangs up the phone. Within the hour... she had not expected the appointment to be quite so soon. She eases herself from her desk chair, reaching for the walker Tori had gotten for her. Torrent is there to steady her for a moment.

"Do ye want me to go with you?"

She lays a pale hand against his chocolate toned cheek. Her flesh is tissue thin, chill to the touch. He presses a kiss into her palm. "No my Friend. I need to do this without either you or Tori. You need to understand."

He nods and urges her to sit on a chair. A silver comb appears in his hand and he gently dresses her hair.

The hour passes quickly, too quickly. Mortuis helps Grace settle in the front seat. He loads her walker in the back. Torrent stops him a moment, "She is not good, Mortuis, if something happens... call me. I will be there."

Mortuis inclines his head and slips behind the wheel. Soon they are out of sight. Torrent settles into a chair on the sidewalk and closes his eyes. He sends his thoughts to the small bits of his energy still finding their way into her essence. She is nervous, but confident. This is something she not only needs to do, this is something she WANTS to do.

The Victorian house is not quite what Grace expected. She truly assumed they would meet at the mortuary. The man who meets them at the door elegantly motions them inside. They follow him into a simply furnished living room. Grace admires the antique furnishings. "This is a lovely room."

Another man steps quietly into the room. He carries a tray, laden with a teapot and cups. "Thank you. We get little in the way of company, but we try to keep it pleasant for those who do join us. Won't you sit?"

His voice startles her. It is grandfatherly and kind, with a striking resemblance to Boris Karloff. She smiles. "May I say, that you have a definitive voice sir. You sound much like my favorite actor, Boris Karloff."

He sets the tray on a table. "Thank you. I have been told I sound like him. That he is a favorite of yours, is a lovely thought. I am Mr. Sweeney. You have already met Mr. Mole. Now, my dear lady. How may we help you?"

Mortuis helps Grace settle on the settee. She opens her purse and pulls out a sheet of paper. Handing the document to Mr. Sweeney, she tells them, "Gentlemen, I am sighted, as the Fae say. I know the truth of you, and have come to you for help in my passing from this world. My soul has already been claimed by my God, Herne. My body is mine to dispose of. That sheet of paper is a legal document giving your "Mortuary" the right to harvest any usable organs or tissues." She watches their long somber faces.

They nod slowly, listening. Mr. Mole licks his lips. He asks, in a voice reminiscent of Marty Feldman imitating Eyegore, " Why any usable?"

She smiles sadly. "I am dying gentleman. I have cancer. I do not know what is edible to your kind, but I wish you to take what you would like. The rest, I ask that you cremate. I have an associate to whom I would have the ashes released. Her name is Tourmaline. She will then dispose of my ashes as stated in my letter to her." She cocks her head. "Can you help me?"

Mr. Sweeney reads slowly, pointing out nuances in the document to Mr. Mole. "Everything seems to be in order. We would be delighted to... help you."

"Thank you, Gentlemen." She hands them a small envelope. "For your troubles, and anything you may need." The envelope contains a small bundle of cash. Their eyes widen at the sum. "What is not used for my disposition use for yourselves."

She smiles up at Mortuis, setting down her empty cup. "Mortuis, I hate to impose, but I find myself tiring. Would you be so kind as to take me home?" As he helps her rise, she nods to the Ghouls. "I appreciate everything you will be doing for me."

Mr. Sweeney smiles. It is sincere and open, unlike the careful smiles both men had shown earlier on their horsey features. "We will be honored Miss Grace. Let us see you out."

As Mortuis helps her settle in the hearse, he chuckles quietly. "You have dealt with unusual creatures before, Milady Grace?"

She grins at him. "I think almost everyone is unusual Mortuis. Some just... a little more than others." She hums quietly to herself as Mortuis slides behind the wheel and heads for her apartment.

Grace slept quietly on a couch in the converted store room. Torrent had worked hard to create a space for her to rest during her hours at the Gallery. Her eyes had lit up at the refurbished sign hanging from a wrought iron angle above the door. A small demifae now graces the plank, caught in the act of blowing magic dust. The iridescent cloud swirls, flowing out to form the words Flights of Fantasy. He had taken the idea for the embellishment from the canvas Morgan's people had destroyed, adapting it for the sign.

The ruined painting was now scattered around the gallery in small stolen moments. A few miniatures now look like moments of time, caught for eternity. A few others are vague forest bits with barely-seen figures. These, as part of the whole, brought a wonder. Now, on their own, they have a darker feel. Grace stared at the salvage. Her eyes filled with tears and she had hugged Torrent.

"See, all was not lost Gracie. Welcome Home."

He had shown her the things he had done with the forgotten room. His Brownie heritage making the cleaning and conversion a true joy. Tori had only shook her head, but had admitted that it was just what Grace needed. He had even had a shifter put a window in; where once it would have faced a graffiti-filled wall, it now opened onto a mural of deep woods and joy.

Three young teens are currently engrossed in the project. Their dark hair almost blending with the night's shadows. They will be stopping soon, but what they had wrought was amazing. Shifters, in all phases, wandered the woods. Three young teens with raven wings sat on the upper branches of a tall oak. They looked down on everything below. Amusement curved their lips. Self portraits, one had told him. They were adding details, working on the small town in the distance. Exton, as seen from the Shifter's "Game Preserve".

One waves through the window and points up. Time to leave. They always leave just before the sun completely disappears from the alley. Grace stirs, drawing his attention to her.

She sits up slowly, and smiles. Tori leans against the doorframe, holding a cup of Earl Grey tea. She hands the cup to Grace and sits next to her.

"Feel better, Graclyn?"

Grace sighs. "I know you have been giving me energy Torrent. You need to stop."

The Brownie merely smiles.

"When it is time to stop, I shall stop. I looked at your sketch pad. So many beautiful images. I saw there is a new piece on your easel. You don't plan to paint them all do you?"

Grace looks into the alley and sighs, a small content sound.

"As many as I can, Torrent... as many as I can."

The gallery has been closed for hours. Tori has gone to her family's side. The nice Vampyre is ill and Tori told her she would be fine. Torrent arrived shortly after Tori left her apartment. She found him very charming, even though Tori has told her to never make a deal with a Fae, always watch for the twist.
Grace has made no deal with Torrent. The Brownie merely comes and keeps her company. Something about being in his presence seems to add to her strength... and she is painting again. Painting! She had thought that beyond her capabilities.

Tori had described her siblings in detail. She found it fascinating that though from different cultures, these four chose to become a Nest of their own, and to share their nesting with non-Gargoyles. She hoped she caught them close enough to not offend them. Tori had brought back the statue she bought at their first meeting, explaining that this is very much what her Kith were like. Torrent is examining her latest painting, chuckling over the images.

"Ah Grace! This is amazing. But why is the dragon gargoyle holding bongos? The canine one is playing an accordion? I love the dancing demifae. You have captured them so well!"

He leans closer, so many little things she put in the painting...

"Is this a war harp?" He points to the small harp in the Cat's hands.

Grace grins. "I am told that Ike first learned the harp, before taking up the guitar. Tori is playing an Irish whistle if you look closely."

He laughs, the husky chuckle a very merry sound. "I remember that..."

"You knew Tori? Is that why she avoids you?"

He shakes his head, "No. It was another of my kind that did Tori ill. She has never forgotten the mean lesson he taught. It used to be said never thank the Fae. I hear she holds to that still. Me, I am not one to take a gift away, just because ye thanked me." He smiles, his eyes looking far away. "Aye she played so sweetly. She was gifted with a whistle beyond compare for something she did for our Court. Borex cursed her ability to play a wind instrument because she thanked him for something. I hear she still has carries the whistle, as a reminder of that instant. I think she still has the gift. I just wish I could find a way to make her see that."

He points at something still incomplete. "Grace, what have ye here?"

The old woman smiles. "Still working on this... Let me show you the original. I think I will sell the original, but gift this to Tori."

She pulls a canvas from a stack against the wall. The image Torrent was looking at was a beautiful woman, almost indistinct. Flowers are braided in her hair and three young children sit at her feet making flower chains. Another woman dances with a little girl, both garbed in vibrant shades. He finds himself, Gareth, and Twillon, Keon and Cassie, Raina and Nick. A little more looking shows Guunnar and some Riders. All are them, yet different enough that one would not immediately see them as themselves. After a little more hunting, he begins to laugh. In a shaft of moonlight, near hidden by a tree, is an easel. A slight figure peaks around the canvas, grey curls shining with reflected light.

"There is you! Grace, you have put yourself there."

She giggles. "All my dreams, all my fantasies... That is what I named it."

The rising sun is just lightening the ebony night. The paintbrush fairly flies across the canvas. From what Grace told her, this piece was one she had sketched out several years ago, she just never felt it was quite right. Something had been missing. Tonight had changed that.
The demifae look less like children with wings and, as the painting evolves, more like the People they truly are. Tori can pick out individuals. Miko and his brothers are sparring across, make that all over, a broad leafed plant as Rachal cheers them on, along with a few other equally striking females.

There is Star's friend Mya, being pushed on a swing. It takes a few moments for Tori to realize the swing is hanging from a potted azalea. Grace has taken the Feast and turned it into someone's balcony garden. She begins to explore the painting as Grace adds more and more detail.

"I should rest soon, but this is so fresh in my mind."

Grace's voice is soft, lost in wonder, yet she seems more vital than she has in the months Tori has been visiting with her. Tori is reluctant to break the moment. She has seen Stoney in creative spells. She only hopes Grace doesn't pay harshly for this energy.

It has been several hours since they left the Tavern and came back to Grace's apartment. The woman had gone straight to a closet and pulled out this canvas. At first Tori had thought it was blank, until she saw the faint lines of the sketching. Grace has worked nonstop since then.

Tori has kept watch very carefully over her elderly friend. It isn't until Grace sits down on the stool in front of the canvas that she asks, "Grace, do you need to rest?"

The woman's eyes gleam, shining with energy Tori has not seen in her before. She shakes her head, pale grey curls bouncing. Before long, her brushes are again in motion.

"I just needed to step back, to see what is missing. Seeing the faeries tonight... I always thought they were more like children. They aren't, are they? So much more..."

Her words are distant as she focuses on the painting. Only a few moments more and Grace steps back again. Tori sneaks a peek. The wings on the battling Fae seem to have the blur of motion used to help balance. The dress and hair on the Mya image is swaying front, as if the swing were coming back to the young demifae waiting to push it again. Another small scene is of couples dancing. Grace has captured the vibrancy of the People, the variety of skin tones and wing styles, even the styles of dress.

It takes her eyes a moment to notice the canine. It lies in the shadows, almost invisible. It watches off the canvas, as if protecting the demifae from detection. It is hard to see details, but a faint redness shines in the creature's eyes. The creature is huge, reminding Tori of a mastiff, yet more sleekly muscled. She points it out to Grace.

The woman smiles. "I saw him at the reception. I couldn't believe someone had brought their dog, but he never left the shadows, stayed close to the head table. This one is..." her words falter for a moment. "he's... prettier? Not the right word. The other was so ugly, he had a charm about him. You know, so ugly you just had to find him cute."

Tori shakes her head. Trooper... this was the Hell Hound who took a liking to Star. She could see the resemblance now, but the brindled fur, the scaly tail, the dragonlike features, were smoothed out here.

With a few flourishes of her brush, Grace signs the piece. The brushes are soon soaking in thinner, the palette and paints put away. Grace looks at Tori from the corner of her eye. "Where will you sleep today?"

A small smile creeps across Tori's lips. "Not far away. The shop opens at nine a.m. tomorrow?" At Grace's nod, Tori begins wiping her hands, drying them. "Then you need to sleep, Grace. I will see you right before dusk."

Slipping out the balcony doors, Tori lets the change take her. Broad leathery wings fan the air. Tori turns back, waving. With a push of her strong haunches, she is leaping skyward. Her wings pump once, twice, and she gains the height she needs. As she settles on the Gallery's roof, she sighs, praying to the Goddess that Grace does not pay a heavy price for her extra energy tonight.

Grace putters in her kitchen, making a cup of tea. Her voice is soft, tired. "Would you like a cup of tea? Or something stronger?"

The figure in the shadows nods. "Tea twould be fine."

The hood slides back and Torrent steps forward, taking over for grace. "Sit, I will bring it."

The woman settles on her couch as Torrent sets two cups on the coffee table. They talk for a short time and Grace begins to fade, her words softening to almost a mumble. Torrent urges her to lay back and covers her with an afghan. He cleans her cups, clearing away the makings of the tea. He settles himself in a chair, whispering to her to rest, to sleep well. His eyes travel to the painting and he smiles tiredly. He is glad he wore himself thin, to give her the energy to enjoy this night. She would not pay for her fun, that cost was his. He thinks on what she must have been like as a younger woman, not pretty, but lovely all the same, vibrant and imaginative, a treasure...

His eyes close and Torrent dozes as she sleeps.