The Story Of Magus Chapter 8

Capture! Ozzie And The Mystics

By ZealPropht

"So, wanna see my fortress?"

"Your what?," Janus asked with a puzzled frown. He looked at the two story house that stood not too far away and then back to Cyrus.

"My fortress. Well, actually it's a tree house but I call it a fortress. Wanna go see it? It's really nifty. Uncle Toma built it for me as a birthday present the year before last."

"You have a tree house?," Janus repeated vaguely. "My, how odd." He gestured at the house. "I thought you lived here. I might say it seems that you people have some strange ideas of housing around here."

Cyrus laughed. "That's really hillarious, Janus!"

"What is?," the prince asked perturbed. He disliked being laughed at, especially by inferiors. "I'm serious. The roof would leak and the wind might blow your house over and then where would you be? Honestly, some people never plan ahead!" Cyrus put his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels.

"Oh, stop! I can't breathe!," he gasped. "Imagine, living in a tree house!" He laughed again. "No, dummy! I don't live in my tree house." He paused. "Though I have to admit, that was a good one!," the boy chuckled."

Janus ground his teeth together. "A good one, what?" But Cyrus ignored him and took ahold of his arm and began to pull him towards the back of the house.

"C'mon! I'll show you what it's like. It's really big. I like to go there and fight off the Mystics." He grinned. "By the way, love the hair." He reached out to touch it to see if it was real.

Janus pulled his arm out of the other boy's grasp and brushed off his sleeve in annoyance. "Don't drag me along like some animal on a leash. I can walk perfectly fine by myself, you know. And leave my hair alone!," he snapped. Cyrus shrugged, lowering his hand, and continued walking. Janus followed, though he wasn't very enthusiastic. "Anyway, that's like, the second or third time I've heard that name brought up. Who are these Mystics?"

Cyrus glanced over his shoulder at his companion to see if he was fooling him. "You mean you don't know?" Where had this kid been?! When Janus shook his head silently, he whistled. "Well, there's Ozzie, the leader of the Mystics. He's supposed to be really mean. Then there's his captains, Slash and Flea. They're the ones who do all his dirty work, or so Uncle Toma tells us."

"What about magic?," Janus questioned. "Do the, um, do the Mystics have...magic?"

"Oh, yeah! I forgot about that. Yes, they do have magical powers. Sheesh! How could I forget? Everyone says that the Mystics sacrifce the humans they capture to call up demons." Cyrus shivered. "No one likes magic here very much, it's just way to...strange! Of course, some of the knights are trained to know some of the magic that the Mystics use, or at least, that's what father says. He says it has to do with fighting fire with fire. If you want to know more, talk to Uncle Toma. He's a famous adventurer you know, he's been everywhere. He's the one who really knows about the Mystics."

They rounded the corner of the house and Toma stopped so suddenly that Janus walked into him. "Sorry," he mummbled, stepping back. Then he drew in his breath in awe. In the distance, on a hill, a huge building could be seen. It's walls were white with gold and rose-quartz that shimmered in the mist like a magical jewel. It's entire shape hinted so much at Zealian architecture that he was almost certain it was part of an origional building that had been refurnished for this age. A forrest surrounded it and the foremost of the trees held a large structure upon it that spread through it's thick branches and even on the ground around it.

"Neat, isn't it? That's the Cathedral in the distance. It's where the royal family goes to meditate and pray. The nobility goes there as well, and sometimes, if we're lucky, the knights can go there as well," Cyrus stated, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"What's a, uh...a knight?," Janus asked, stumbling over the word. He hated being so ignorant of this world into which he'd been thrust. He waited grimly for Cyrus to laugh at him again. But this time, the boy didn't. Instead, he got a far away look with a small, dreamy smile upon his face.

"A knight is a guardian, a protector of the kingdom. He submits himself to the will of the king and pledges himself body and soul to defending the royal family. A knight is the very heart of courage and honor. It's the code a warrior lives by. Without these, a knight is disgraced. And to be a disgraced knight...well, that's to be nothing at all. You become less then a man."

Janus yawned at this speech. "Sounds like a strict type of job," he commented dryly. Then added, "For a servant." But Cyrus took no notice of his sarcasm. He simply nodded his head.

"It is strict, but to serve king and country and die gloriously in battle, it's a small price to pay." They stood silent for a moment or two before Cyrus shook himself and grinned. "Anyway, enough talk. I'll race you to the tree house." He took off running, shouting behind him, "Last one there is a wet dog!"

Janus watched him go with a slight curling of his lip. He was not about to run after his companion, even at the risk of being a wet dog. Instead, he walked unhurriedly after, speculating on what Cyrus had said. So honor was the code of a knight, eh? It was obvious that Cyrus thought very highly of these people, these servants to the king. He was reminded of Captain Dalton back in Zeal and some of the palace guards. While they were recognized as being the "defenders" of the kingdom, it had been an empty title. Zeal hadn't been at war for several hundred years. Though they wore armor and swords, it was all ceremonial and they were praised not because of deeds they had done but by what their ancestors had done in the wars ages past. None the less, they were still servants, dolls made to be seen and shown off but not to be played with. But here, here they were glorified and respected as if the kingdom couldn't function without them. This was certainly a backwards place he had stumbled acrossed.

When arrived at the base of the tree-house, Cyrus couldn't be seen anywhere. Janus walked completely around the tree and the building that surrounded it and scanned the upper branches for signs of his blond haired companion. "Cyrus? Where are you?" He felt something drop onto his head with painful accurancy. "Ouch!," he exclaimed backing up and looking up into the branches above him. A rope ladder had been tossed down and Cyrus was standing at the top giving him a sheepish look.

"Sorry. I thought you were on the other side. I didn't mean to drop the ladder on you. Are you alright?"

Janus rubbed his scalp and winced as his fingers came back with a few tiny droplets of blood. "No, you imbicile! That stupid ladder cut me!," he shot back angrilly. When he saw Cyrus flinch, he sighed. "I'll have a headache for a while but I'll be alright." He really wanted nothing more then to race up the ladder and throw the boy from the balcolny but he decided against it. After all, he hadn't meant to hurt him...As Janus took hold of the swaying rope and wood that served as the way up to the second story, he smiled somewhat ruefully to himself. A day ago he wouldn't have hesitated to have given Cyrus a severe dressing down and probably have hit him in the process. But now...He'd actually forgiven Cyrus! Why? As he climed up onto the wooden platform and Cyrus helped him stand up, he realized that despite his over familiar way of treating the former prince, Janus was genuinely starting to, if not actually like, then at least tolerate this strange boy. There was a sense of adventure about him that Janus never felt before, except maybe with Toma. He was wild and impetuous but warm and friendly. The former prince had never met anyone as sincerly open like this blond boy.

"Here, have a seat. That was a nasty bonk on the head. Can I get you something for it? Maybe some ice?"

Janus shook his head, groaned, and placed a hand to the aching lump. He sat down unsteadily on the offered chair. "No, I'm alright, really. I just got a litle dizzy is all." He closed his eyes and concentrated on the hard lump of pain on the top of his head. It was sure to form a large goose-egg on his scalp that would be tender for the next week or so. Once again he wished he had the means to make Cyrus feel as lousy as he did right now. The sharp stinging gradually lessened and started to fade. Janus felt as if he might even be able to move his head again...barely. Though the pain refused to diminsih itself completely, it did lessen sufficiantly enough to ignore.


He was startled by Cyrus's voice as it shocked him back into reality. "Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry. I was trying to make the pain go away. I think it worked." He watched Cyrus carefully to see what his reaction would be. Cyrus apparently didn't take his words seriously because he grinned and shrugged.

"Whatever works, I say. If you're feeling better, wanna play something?," he asked. Janus was a little taken back. He hadn't had much experiance with other kids his age so he found this changing from one topic to another to be very annoying.

"And what, pray tell, do you propose we play exactly?," he asked. Cyrus laughed and slapped Janus on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

"I don't know. How about we pretend we're two princes defending our throne from hostile invaders? Or we could pretend we're pirates on the sea, raiding defenseless ships..." He went on and on with his ideas. Janus was swamped. Most of these games required quite a lot of physical exertion. Janus really didn't like to waste his energy in that fashion. He was saved from having to. Cyrus had just finished his long list of things they could do and was asking which one he preffered, when a woman's voice rang through the air.

"Cyrus? Cyrus, my son, where are you?"

Cyrus, his face alight with joy, turned away from Janus and scrambled down the rope ladder. "I'm out back by the tree-house," he called. As the former prince watched, a small woman looking from about thirty to thirty-five, came around the corner of the house, her arm hooking in the arm of a stern looking older man. Behind them followed Toma. Janus followed Cyrus down the ladder and together they went to greet the group of adults.

Cyrus ran up to his mother who kissed the top of his head lovingly. She was petite, with hair the same color of her son's. Her face was radiant yet strangely sad around the green eyes that lingered affectionately every now and again on Toma who had come around the other side of her to stand beside Cyrus. Janus was startled to see the resemblance his companion bore to both Toma and his mother. In fact, the resemblance to Toma was actually uncanny. Cyrus looked nothing like the older man who stood beside his wife. Cyrus's father was tall with dark brown eyes that seemed to stare right through you and iron-shot hair and mustash. He wore silver armor and a purple cape, though both looked as though they had seen better days. Though his eyes seemed softer as they gazed on his son, they turned cold as he saw the hesitant looks that his wife and Toma flashed each other when they thought he wasn't looking.

"Momma, this is my friend, Janus," Cyrus said, gesturing to the former prince. The woman turned her gaze to him.

"My name is Llana, young sir. I'm glad to meet you," she said. Janus, remembering his manners, bowed to her with a courtly flourish. He wasn't a prince for nothing, after all. Llana laughed gaily. "My, my, Cyrus! Your friend is certainly a little gentleman isn't he?"

"Madame, the pleasure is all mine," Janus stated, taking her hand in his and kissing it lightly. He smiled his most winning smile at her. The woman blushed and place her hand over her heart. Solomnly, she returned his bow with a slight curtsy of her own.

"You certainly are a charmer, aren't you kid?," Toma exclaimed, roaring with laughter. He grinned at Cyrus's father. "So what say you, Cedrick?" The older man looked Janus over appraisingly, noting the blue hair with a frown.

"How old art thou, lad?," he asked abruptly in a deep voice. Janus was a bit taken back by his way of speech but he answered promptly.

"I am ten years of age, sir," he replied. The knight grunted. He motioned for the boy to turn around so he could look him over some more. Though Janus resented such treatment, he did as he was bid. Cedrick sighed.

"Yes, I suppose the lad is alright. Tis' not often I have seen one with such odd looks before. If my dear wife approves of him, he shall stay. I know Cyrus has taken a liking to him and it is beyond me to deny my...son...a companion." With that, Cedrick turned on his heel and left, walking stiffly away from them through the back door of the house. Llana followed him with her sad eyes and sighed. She turned to Janus with a smile though.

"Well, mother, can Janus stay?," Cyrus asked pleadingly. Janus forced down a wave of rising tension in him. If he had done his work well, she would not, could not refuse him. After all, his tale was a sad one, to be sure, and no decent, big-hearted peasant woman could possibly turn him away, especially after the act he'd just pulled.

"Yes, of course he may stay. It's what any good person would do for a boy in his condition." She put her other arm, the one that wasn't around Cyrus, over Janus's shoulders, drawing him close. "As of today, I have two sons," Llana laughed. Inwardly, Janus did the same, but for him, it was a laugh of triumph.


The triumph quickly faded over the course of the next couple of days as Janus realized that he simply wasn't cut out for the life of the middle class peasant. He found the daily chores tedious and repetitive. House cleaning was a pain for the dust irritated his nose which caused him to sneeze violently for several hours as he wiped down the furniture with a rag. Milking the scrawny brown cow that was living in the shed out back was just plain disgusting. Touching the warm udders gave a thrill of nausea to the boy who ducked out of it every chance he got. Washing dishes gave him chapped hands from the harsh lye soap that he was forced to use. It was the same with washing clothes. Day after day after day, Janus contemplated what life would be like elsewhere. Not that he was entirely unhappy living with Cyrus and his family. No, there were times when he actually liked this life. There was the time when Sir Cedrick let the boys ride on his war-horse, Windmane, and they'd visited the castle. Janus had found the huge building to be fascinating, with it's high towers that overlooked the kingdom for miles around.

"What mountain is that over there?," Janus had asked hesitantly of Cyrus's father. The menacing man had turned to him with a glare but few things could truely daunt Janus and Cedrick wasn't one of them. The old knight and the boy had faced off for a full two minuits before the man replied, "That's Denarado, home to the ledgendary Masamune."

"Masamune?," Janus had repeated. Cedrick nodded. He explained that ledgends said that the Masamune was the most powerful sword known to man, and that the wielder held the power of the the universe in his hands. It was rumored that the wielder of the sword could travel the world over and everywhere he went the course of history would be changed forever.

Of course, Janus had scoffed at such a notion. "Man makes his own destiny, that's what I say. I certainly am following no such divine path." Indeed, his life seemed helter skelter to the ease he had grown accustomed to and taken advantage of in Zeal. He would have traded his soul some times durring the chores he was forced to do for a moment of luxerious pampering. But none was to be had, of course. He had to earn his keep. And so, the former prince would often find himself entertaining thoughts of running away and starting his life new somewhere else...preferably amongst a noble's family, though as he looked know in his ragged finery with it's stains of mud and grass, he doubted he would have that oppourtunity.

But as time wore one, the days turning into weeks, Janus began to realize that something was going terribly wrong with him. It was hard to put his finger on at first. It started off as a few broken glasses that shattered spontaneously in his hand. Then it led to other things, such as when the fire was low, a mere glance at it the wrong way would send flames leaping up the chimney, causing Llana to mutter some very un-ladylike remarks under her breath, fearing that the roof might catch fire. Janus soon came to terms that his magic power, wich he had at first deemed non-existant, had somehow miraculously appeared. In fact, it was rapidly becoming hard to controll. In this world, his power seemed to be flourishing, but he knew, blessing his lucky stars that he had actually listened to Belthazar when he'd lectured on this, that eventually, without tutoring to help him controll his magic, it would soon start fluxuating at will. Oh, he might be able to disguise it right now as clumsy accidents, but sooner or later the truth would come out. Already, Sir Cedrick was watching him with keen disaproval and gnawing suspicion, as if he wanted to tear open the boys head and see the secvrets he concealed inside. For one of the few times in his life, Janus had absolutely no idea what to do.


Now, Janus wasn't the only one having any problems. Flea and Slash weren't to happy about their situation either. While the former prince griped and moaned about his new life, Slash was doing reletively the same thing. Flea had finaly coaxed, prodded, and cajoled him into transforming his appearance into that of a human. He was not handsom, with his squinty little eyes and the unhealthy bluish tinge to his skin. Well, magic wasn't the answer to everything. No matter what they tried, his natural flesh tone was leaking through. It did help avoid attracting attention, however. One might think that a bluish-skinned man who was uncommonly ugly might draw more then a startled gasp from on-lookers. But the fact was, that he was SO ugly and SO unusual that noone wanted to look more then once, later assuming that their mind must have been playing tricks on them.

The disguises worked well. The duo of miscreants were able to wander around Guardia at will, posing as a young married couple, much to Flea's chagrin. "I don't see why we couldn't just know! Pals or something. Why do we have to married?," she had whined. "I'm way to beautiful to be married to the likes of you!"

"Not the way you look right now, sweet cakes!," Slash had laughed. "The way you look right now, you'd be lucky if a potato farmer looked at you twice!" This started a fist-fight which noone won. However, when they had picked themselve up off the ground, Flea managed to land a pretty good kick on Slash's rear end, leaving a dusty foot-print on his trousers.

When they were not arguing, they were searching for the mysterious boy who had come down from the mountain. But the more they searched and argued, the less they found, untill they were ready to give up completely. It was then that Flea, with her highly trained magician's senses, started to detect the faintest taste of magic influxes. They were few at a time, but as the days passed, they were starting to grow more and more frequent.

"Perhaps if we trace these...magic outbursts, we can find where our little blue-haired rabbit has made himself a nest," Slash suggested.

"Agreed. Humans are so stupid! I mean, letting your powers go to waste like that. It's best if we destroy the boy soon. It's for his own good as well as ours. We can't let him grow up to become a threat to us. Besides, if he has as much magic as I think he has, he might very well blow half of Guardia up if his abilities go un-tempered."

"Too, true." Slash patted Slasher on the hilt. "Besides, my sword could use a taste of human blood to slake it's thirst."

"Not so fast, my blood-thirsty companion. I'd like to play with him a little first, see what type of magic this whelp posesses." Flea sighed. "I wonder if Ozzie has missed us yet." She had a sudden picture of Ozzie, lying on a divan, surrounded by sexy Naga-ettes dropping grapes into his wide, slobbery mouth which grinned with utter contentment. She shuddered and tried to clear the picture, but had trouble suceeding. He probably didn't even know they were gone.


Janus knelt on the floor with a bucket of water and a rag to clean up yet another mess his growing powers had made. Llana was beside him, carefully picking up bits of broken crockery amidst the spilled remains of a left-over pot roast. Sir Cedrick stood up from his chair with an angry thud as the wood grated against the polished floor. Janus flinched, more from the noise then from the accusing stare the old knight was giving his bowed back. Cyrus sat where he was at the table, his head bowed, scraping his plate with his fork.

"Wife, I would speak with you privately," Cedrick grated, truning on his heel and stomping into the next room, his metal shod boots resounding on the floor with the sound of prison doors closing. Janus swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly dry mouth and throat. Llana placed the broken crockery in the waste bucket and wiped her hand on her apron.

Janus raised his head to the woman who gazed back at him. "I'm sorry about the roast, Mistress Llana," he whispered. She sighed and smoothed back his hair. Her touch caused a lump to rise in his throat, yet his eyes remained clear.

"Don't worry, Janus, dear," she replied. "Cedrick is...excitable sometimes. He isn't angry, really. He's just like that sometimes. He's really very understanding..."

"Wife!," came Cedrick's shout from the adjoining room. Without further words, Llana did as she was bid, moving in a rather undignified haste to comply. Janus waited for a moment. He could hear Llana's soft voice speaking, though the words were undistinguishable. The deep rumble of Cedrick's voice sounded like aproaching thunder over the gentle sigh of Llana's words.

"They're talking about you," Cyrus stated sadly. Janus refused to looked at him and soaked the rag in the bucket. He placed the rag into the pool of broth that lay like a small lake on the floor.

"Yeah, so? It wasn't my fault. The dish, it slipped. I couldn't grab it."

"They're saying you're-"

"Strange, unusual, not one of us!," came Cedrick's voice, loud and unmistakably clear. Janus stiffened, his back going ridged, small hands clenching around the rag till the knuckles were white.

"No, he's not Cedrick! He's just a boy!," Llana countered desperately. There was a muffled gasp and Cedrick returned to the room, dragging Llana with him, his strong fingers bruising the flesh of her wrist.

"Normal? You call this...this FREAK normal?!," the knight roared. Janus didn't move for a moment. Freak? Is that what he takes me for, Janus asked himself. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his head and gazed with searing hatred at the knight.

"Papa, Janus isn't a freak!," Cyrus cried, leaping to his feet, upseting the chair upon which he had been sitting. He came to stand in front of his father and drew himself up to the small height he was. "Janus is no freak!," he repeated. "He's my friend!"

"What makes you say I'm not normal?" Janus asked this with such startling calm that it seemed to break through the knight's rage. The warrior relaxed his grip on Llana who stumbled away, rubbing her bruised wrist. She drew Cyrus to her and pulled him away. They stood beside Janus who still knelt on the floor.

"You are strange and weird, boy! You are not normal. I feel a strange power about you that I did not feel whenst we first were aquainted. Canst you deny my accusaions? Do you dare defy me to say you are normal?," Cedrick cried. Janus shook his head.

"I am not normal, nor am I unusual. We are, each one of us, different. That's what makes us unique," the former prince stated. "I'm sorry if you do not like me, but I get the impression that it isn't me you are trying to hurt, but your wife."

"Why you impertanant little-"

"Ah, now I dare YOU, sir knight. I dare YOU to defy me!," Janus interrupted with a laugh. "Tell me. Why is it that Cyrus bears a remarkable resemblance to Toma Levine rather than to you, sir? Could it be because-" He broke off in mid-sentance. He had the satisfaction to see Cedrick's face blanche, but he hadn't counted on Llana growing, if that was possible, more pale. Janus looked over at Cyrus. No, for his sake, he could not voice the suspicions that swam about in his head.

"I want you to get yourself gone boy," Cedrick whispered through white lips. "I never want to set eyes on your face again." With that, he turned on his heel and stormed up the stairs. A door opened and slammed a few moments later. Janus turned to Llana.

The woman shook her head sadly and took hold of Cyrus's hand. She brushed past the former prince without a word. "Mistress Llana....I'm sorry for all-"

She cut him off. "I think my husband is right, Janus. You don't belong here. You're from another time, another place."

Janus caught his breath at that. "I don't know what-"

"You are different from us, and that scares Cedrick. He is used to the constant things in life, the normal world around him. Then you come and his daily routine has been upset. It's not just the dishes. There is something about your presance that makes him feel uncomfortable." She lowered here eyes. "He's afraid of you, Janus. And so am I. Afraid of you and for you." For a moment she was silent. Then she said, "Please take what you need from the pantry. I believe it would help us all if you would leave as soon as possible."

"Momma, no!," Cyrus wailed. "Where will Janus go? He's my friend! He's my friend! Anything he did he can undo, can't you Janus?," he turned pleading eyes to the boy. "Please! Don't send Janus away!"

"Hush, now, Cyrus. Don't make a scene. Janus understands, don't you?," his mother stated, putting her arms around the distraught boy. Janus noded once, coldly.

"I understand perfectly."

Cyrus stared at him and his eyes filled with tears. "You'll always be my friend, Janus. I'll never forget you," he said. Breaking away from his mother, the boy bolted up the stairs and out of sight. The reamining two people stood together in silence for a moment.

Janus broke the silence. "Thank you for giving me shelter, Mistress Llana. I'm truely sorry that I caused this episode tonight."

"I know. Just promise me one thing, you owe me that at least."

"I don't owe you a thing, not even a promise," Janus sneered with uncharacteristic harshness. There was something new in his eyes, a coldness that made Llana shiver and wonder if she had made a dreafull mistake in deciding to turn him out.

"Don't tell Cyrus what you know about his heritage. I know you know about him, but he's too young to deal with this issue right now, if he doesn't know already. I dread telling him on the day he finaly asks who his father really is."

"Have no fear. I will not reveal your precious secret." He laughed at her gratefull expression. "I don't do this for you, I do this for him, my friend." There. He had said it at last. Cyrus was his friend, the only one who had remained true. That thought comforted him as he turned his back on the woman who had cared for him for these past few weeks and proceded to clean the floor once more. There was a moment of quiet, save the sound of his rag moving over the floor and of him wringing out the water into the bucket. He wasn't sure when Llana had left, but when he stood up so he could empty the bucket out the door, she was gone.

The corners of his mouth twisted up into a bitter smile. He didn't need these cretins to shelter him. He was brave, he could handle himself just fine. Yes, he would take what these fools had so freely given to him and he'd leave to make his fourtune in other places.He'd be fine...He would be...He would...

"Must have gotten soap in my eyes," he mumbled, blinking at the sting under his eyelids that made them tear. Fumbling with the latch, Janus got the door open and tossed the water, bucket and all, outside. He wrapped his arms around himself and leaned in the doorway, half in the light of the candles and lamps, half in the shadows of night. A cool wind blew his hair into his face and he pushed it back, wiping away the single tear that had trickled down his cheek. "So, I'm weird am I? Unusual?," a low chuckle rose in his throat. The boy's features drew up into a haughty, arrogant smile. "Well, we'll see how unusual I will become." So saying, he went to gather his things for his departure.


Flea followed behind Slash with a limp. She had twisted her ankle earlier when she'd stepped on a loose rock. "I'm hungery!," she whined pitifully. "Slash, I want some food and a soft bed. The swordsman leered at her.

"I can provide you with the latter, my dear," he replied, putting an arm around her waist. She smacked his hand when he tried to pinch her bottom and he danced out of her flying fists with a laugh. He looked around, wishing he'd thought to bring a lantern on this trip. He spied a house up ahead. "Maybe whoever lives up ahead could let us stay with them for a while."


Janus stuffed the last loaf of bread into his bag, smoothing down his only other shirt. He took one last look over the house, laying down the letter he'd written for Cyrus on the table under the candle holder. He was just getting ready to leave when a knock resounded on the back door. Janus, was annoyed. Here he was trying to leave this place and he was still forced to answer the door. He lifted the bolt and opned the wooden door wide to let the light spill onto the strangers. One was a plain woman and her male companion was a tall, bluish, ugly man with squinty eyes. "Can I help you?," Janus asked. The pair outside gaped at him in shock and suddenly smiled wickedly at each other.

The man laughed and put an arm around the woman's shoulders. "Baby, I think we're going home!"


(Hello all, this is ZealPropht! I was just wondering, how does everyone like the story so far? If you have a nice or helpful comment to make, please feel free to E-Mail me and let me know your opinion.)


Chapter 9

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