Birthright

'Solomon's Scrolls'.

Echo had been standing on the sidewalk for five minutes, looking at the shop's facade. It was six o'clock in the evening. The sun was a blazing deep-orange ball in the sky that cast long shadows. The hybrid grasped the door handle, pulled.

It was cooler inside, and she paused as she looked around at the shelves. She didn't know if she'd find what she was looking for here, but if she didn't at least look, she'd never find out.

There was two hundred dollars folded tightly in her back jeans pocket. Help, real help, probably wouldn't be cheap. If she had to live off of mac and cheese for a while, it would be worth it.

Echo stepped towards the counter, jammed her hands self-consciously into her pockets. Wondered how she was going to start explaining.

Echo didn't know where Cian lived, and she respected the other were's privacy too much to ask. But she'd gotten the phone number of the marina from directory assistance, then called the business office during regular hours. Now that the weather was warming up, Cottonwood Cove had more customers. She was thinking of coming out when high summer came, since there were no other swimming opportunities close by.

The reason she'd decided to seek the Irishman out was because she had to tell <>someone abut the progress she was making with her Wolf side, and Cian was the obvious candidate. She loved Papa, and beyond that she respected him, but he wouldn't have understood her reasons for exploring her Otherness after all this time. She didn't want to have to face his possible disapproval.

The drive to the Cove was uneventful, and the lot was moderately full. The hybrid parked her vehicle in a slot, killed the engine and got out. She hoped she didn't catch the man when he was busy.

Cian's note had caused Echo to shake off the vestiges of the weird mood she'd been in since the night she'd seen the meteor, and she put the stone he'd left for her where he'd directed her to. Just knowing it was there made her feel more secure.

She'd gotten up at her usual early hour, then had breakfast and did her exercises in the front yard. Sometimes she wondered if her nearest neighbors, the Snyders, ever saw her out there, and if so what they thought of it. Then again, if they thought she was weird, they'd never mentioned anything. That was strangely comforting.

After she did some tidying up, she picked up the keys to the van and locked the trailer up behind her. She wanted to go up the highway to Vegas and catch the Strip before it got crowded. If it was ugly without all the neon, that would make her drawings better, more realistic. She was always looking for ways to expand on her talent, and urban landscapes were good for that in her opinion.

The roads were deserted because of the early hour, and when the hybrid reached the city she parked her vehicle in a metered spot. Dropping coins into the slot, she studied the street. Where was the best vantage point to start from?

After finally hauling herself back to her trailer, Echo fell into a heavy sleep to fight off the headache caused by the fumes from the crater. She didn't even take her shoes off before she crashed. The sun came up, beams of light peeking through the cheap Venetian blinds, but instead of getting up with the dawn the way she usually did, the hybrid rolled over and stuffed her head beneath her pillow.

When she finally woke, the clock on the nightstand said it was four-thirty in the afternoon. The sun was gradually sinking towards the western horizon, throwing long shadows in the front yard. Echo rubbed the side of her face, grimaced at the bad taste in her mouth. But at least the headache was gone.

She rinsed her mouth out at the kitchen sink, then poked around in the fridge for something to eat. There was chili, beans and rice, and leftover roast chicken. She chose the chili, scooping some into a bowl and putting it in the microwave. When the timer went off, she carried the bowl out onto the tiny porch. There wasn't much of the day left, but she wanted to enjoy the sunlight while it lasted.

She'd had the strangest dream during all that sleep, where she'd been giving birth to the alien from the crater. Mama and Papa had been there. He'd been in Wolf form. The dreamscape had fragmented at the point when the creature walked under it's own power from the delivery room, dropping her into a deeper slumber. She was going to call home tomorrow. Just to hear familiar voices would make her less anxious about her dreams.

Takes place just after 'A Rare Visitor'

Despite the relative heat of the end of summer, the desert was chilly at night. Echo had driven a mile out of town onto the highway. She pulled the van to the shoulder of the road, killed the engine. The landscape beyond the vehicle looked barren, like a view of the moon.

There was a moon that night, high and silvery in the black expanse overhead. Stars glittered along with the shimmer of the larger orb. The hybrid opened the door, got out to stand next to the van. Would someone notice it parked here, like a State Trooper? If they did see it, would they search for the driver, or would they just have it towed?

Never mind. She couldn't worry about that. She would only be gone for a few hours, anyway. Plenty of time to get back before the sun came up.

( Practice Run )

Holly,

When I was in my junior year of high school, we got this assignment in English class to keep a journal for a month. We were supposed to write down our thoughts and feelings, as if we were writing letters to someone, someone we knew well. A parent, or a close friend. I was even more inarticulate then, but I was really good at writing stuff down. I got an A on the assignment.

I really did try to have an open mind. Whatever you think, whatever he thinks, I looked him in the eye and was the first to offer a handshake. I know what it feels like to be judged before someone gets to know me, and I tried to put aside whatever natural prejudice I felt and the things Papa told me. I failed, but I tried.

( Catharsis )

Having breakfast at the diner meant no dishes to clean up, and since Echo's interview was that afternoon she wanted to concentrate on one thing at the time. She was finishing her waffles, had just asked for another cup of coffee. Her portfolio was on the passenger seat of the van. She'd arranged and re-arranged the pictures until they were in just the right order.

Nervous didn't begin to describe it.

She'd worn the same outfit she'd worn to the event at the Skylark, polished up her boots. Her clothes might not be super-fancy, but they were new and silk was expensive. Artists weren't necessarily known for their choices in couture, anyway.

Echo lifted the fresh cup of coffee to her mouth and sipped at it, then added more sugar. She should have asked for decaf, but they'd been out. At least after today she'd have an answer, whether it was yes or no.