A/N: Yeah, sorry, this one's fairly short and sweet. But it is the beginning of interesting new plot lines! (Hurray! I hear you cry!) ^_^ Many of the answers to reviews lie in this chapter, and no, Eky is not psychic.. (At least, I don't think she is?) *looks questioningly at Busayo* Naah. Yes, I love all my cool names, but, again, Busayo should be thanked for Ekenemolisa ('tis her middle name). Erik is not a stalker, though the idea of having him spend a night in jail does appeal to me. *ponders* And no, I don't think we'll be able to have a very happy ending with this ie: everybody getting married and living happily ever after. :) Just not my style. *evil laugh* Then again, it's hard to tell where this lovely little adventure may take me. As Kurt Vonnegut liked to quote on the subject of writers and subject matter, "Keep your hat on, we may end up miles from here!" In the meantime, keep a look out for conspiracies and plots, questionable trusts, betrayals, and, of course, I have to kill *someone* in this story, don't I? Or did I already do that with Aerin? *mulls*

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Erik leaned forward in his chair eagerly. "Does that mean you may know the person to whom I refer?"
Again, Ekenemolisa paused, considering her words. "Yes." Erik tensed at the affirmation, waiting for an explanation. "But first, I must explain why your question is so surprising. Vaskra was my roommate's nickname in college; only about ten of us knew her as such." She paused again and Eric could hear her throat catch on the other end. "But there is no possible way the person you met was Aerin. She's dead."
Erik nodded to himself and shifted positions before further explaining his meeting. "I know. I was there." He heard a sharp intake of breath through the earpiece. "She and I had just ended our relationship a few months before the accident." He felt his throat close up as he remembered the scene, but pushed on. "I also know that the... woman... I met last night could not have been Aerin. Please, you must believe me when I explain our meeting."
The woman on the other end of the line conceded. "Of course. Please go on."
"Last night, several young men attempted to mug me on the way to the BART. Vaskra literally swooped down upon them and broke up what could have been a very unpleasant scene for me." Here he paused again. "When I say 'swooped' I mean it. On wings. The person who saved me was over six feet tall, red toned skin, horns sweeping back over long brown hair, fangs..."
"What?" Erik pulled the earpiece from his ear at the outburst. "That's impossible! It couldn't have... there's no way... how on Earth?"
"Does... does that mean you know of her?" His query was quiet, barely daring to hope.
"Know of her?" He could almost hear a chuckle behind the words. "Sure I do. I just cannot believe it. Besides the name, Vaskra represented Aerin's alter ego in a story I was writing way back when: a red skinned gargoyle with two sweeping horns and draconian wings."
It was impossible. It couldn't be true. And yet, there it was.
"Amazing. I.. I don't know what to say.." Erik felt his grip on the phone loosen as the room swam before his eyes. There was no way.
"Say? Don't say anything! If you don't mind, we should continue this discussion in person. Give me your address and I'll be there by noon tomorrow."
Erik shook his head, still overwhelmed. But he agreed and rattled off directions to his little house in the suburbs. "Thank you Ekenemolisa. Thank you."
This time, he did hear a laugh. "It's you I should thank, if this isn't some elaborate hallucination of mine. And please, call me Eky."

The sun warmed the stone statue on Erik's roof. Solid rock, all the way through, no nearly sane person would suspect the dreaming mentality that lay within.
Far away, overhead lights washed a clean white room with an almost green glow. The brilliance reflected off instrumentation imbedded high in a wall. On a padded circle in the floor, a girl sat. Pale skin, a cream so alabaster it blended with the surround, was framed with hair, dark as the moonless night. And her eyes, the most startling aspect of all: sightless, vacant, they stared from a blank face, the pale green of lamb's ear in the morning.
She was alone.
Almost.
They talked to her sometimes. Those voices, telling her what to do. And she, in turn, would comfort the poor souls they singled out for her. So much pain in the world. She would stop it all, yes. They had told her, and so it was true.
Her newest child, sleeping now. The time had come for her first lessons. Alone in the room, something changed. Almost, almost, the girl was smiling.

Vaskra dreamt. Images, half-seen and only vaguely understood, flitted across her consciousness, a stream of information too quick to comprehend. Light, red, smoky, the scent of it filling her senses, then dark. A scream on her left, then pain! A pain so acute it threatened to overwhelm all else! But one image would not leave her. One, the pale green eyes, a little girl, pleading, pleading, pleading for rescue. She reached out to her...
But then the all was quiet. The fear, the pain, all washed away as a familiar presence wrapped itself all around. "Hush," it told her, soothing, rich, and calm. An unintelligible lullaby sang in her ears, and all was well in the world again.
The voice sounded once more, still soft, still warm, still rich and reassuring. Soft in her ears, it whispered its quiet appeal.
"Help us."