#There's a picture in which he and Elliot both look beaten up I think to recall?

[jacksintention]

Oz in his Negan era

[hannahindie]

Museum of Death: Part 2

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (implied), Sam Winchester, Susan (ofc - brief) Word Count: 2,922 Warnings: Mention of a burnt corpse (which is just gross regardless of detail), a sassy reader (are you even surprised at this point?), and an adorable old lady named Susan. A/N: This is part two to my UNDERCOVER CHALLENGE FIC for @amanda-teaches. I love writing this, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have been.

A quick shout-out again to @wheresthekillswitch for brainstorming this with me and for the idea of using the undercover names that I chose. It wouldn’t be nearly as cool without you, my dear. :)

And to @pinknerdpanda for beta’ing this part for me!! Your encouragement and willingness to look over my words make my heart happy. Thanks, bean. :) “ *recoils in revulsion* Oh hannah! *Whispers* I love it”

As usual, tags are at the bottom! If you’d like to be added, please let me know.

Y/N looked up as the hotel room door swung open and Dean threw his suit coat over the back of one of the chairs.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I know you did it on purpose.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “No, I didn’t. Why does it matter, anyway? We still have to help these people, something is going on in that museum.”

“Whatever. Y/N, did you find anything?”

Y/N leaned back and crossed her arms, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “More than you did, sounds like.”

Dean leaned over and kissed the top of her head, “Are you going to be nice and tell us, or are you just going to be a tease?”

Y/N’s small smile turned into a wide grin, “Oh, you know I don’t tease. I go straight for the good stuff,” she said with a wink.

Sam groaned, “Please, stop. Just...don’t.” He sat down with a frown and Y/N laughed.

“Sorry, Sammy. But in all seriousness, I think I found something. I don’t know how much help it’s going to be, though.” She turned the laptop so that Sam and Dean could both see it. “So I started digging into the history of the museum, and what could have triggered the murder of the security guard and the curator. Up until recently, everything had been fine.”

“So it’s been all quiet on the western front? A museum full of murder memorabilia, and nothing?” Dean asked as he sat down next to Y/N.

Y/N shrugged, “Yea. It’s been oddly quiet considering the subject matter of this place. That was, until about six weeks ago. Dr. Elliot Lyons transferred here from a crime museum up north. It closed and there were plans on relocating, but the curator position at the Museum of Death had opened up, so he decided to part ways with his previous employer and moved here. That’s when things started happening.”

“I thought Dr. Lyons and Theodore were the only murders?” Sam asked as he leaned forward to get a better look at the news article Y/N had opened.

“They are...well...were. Until last night, they were the only ones. Before that, there had been reports of people being attacked, scratched, strangled, you name it, it was happening. The two deaths occurred, and the museum went quiet again for a few days. Last night, there was a temporary guard patrolling the museum, and this morning he was found strangled and crammed into a crawlspace in the basement.”

Dean whistled, “That’s a bad time. How’d they find him?”

Y/N wrinkled her nose, “Well, it was more of a...um...furnace than a crawlspace. They found out the hard way. I was trying to avoid saying it.”

Dean cleared his throat, “I regret asking.”

“So what was the trigger? It looks like it started when Lyons arrived, but why did it escalate?” Sam sat back and Y/N moved the computer closer to her so she could flip through the different tabs she had open.

“I hacked the museum’s database, and it looks like Lyons was working on a special exhibit. He'd been gathering pieces for weeks, but was very careful about who he let see them. I went to the museum and talked to his assistant, who barely knew what was going on either.” Y/N grinned and Sam cocked an eyebrow.

“But I’m assuming since you hacked into their system, you know what’s going on?” he said, trying to be patient but the frustration was evident on his face.

“Well,” she continued, “I started to get an idea when I realized what kind of exhibit he was building, but I wanted to make sure before I got too excited. I went to the police station to check out the previous claims of attacks and they confirmed my suspicions.”

“Well, are you going to tell us?” Dean asked grumpily, “Or are you just relishing the fact that you’re right?”

Y/N laughed, “I absolutely am doing that. Sam is always the one that gets to say ‘so get this’ and look smart. It’s my turn.” She turned the computer back to where Sam and Dean could both see it. “According to the police reports that were filed, all the attacks that happened were against men. Each person has a different story and they’ve given several descriptions of the attackers, but no women were hurt. Same general story each time; the men were walking through the museum when they were suddenly attacked. Some were beaten, some strangled, some of them had cuts. In all the cases, though, they're the only ones that saw their attacker.”

“So these guys got their asses handed to them and no one saw it?” Sam asked as he scrolled through the pictures in the police reports. “How can someone get this injured and no one see it?”

“I don’t know, it seems like the men had somehow gotten separated from whoever they’d come in with, and by the time the person found them, the attack had already happened. Some walked away mostly unscathed, but there were a couple of incidents where they had to be hospitalized. The ages ranged from fifteen to around forty.”

Dean sighed, “You said that you thought you had it figured out after what you found at the museum. How does any of this relate to that?”

Y/N’s smile widened even more, “Because the exhibit he was putting together was comprised entirely of serial killers whose prime focus were men and boys. The museum already had some displays and items related to that, of course, but he has some incredibly rare finds. I’m talking ‘he must have connections in a police department because this stuff is definitely evidence’ kind of stuff. Things that we haven’t even seen pictures of, much less the actual item. I’ll even go out on a limb and say some of this stuff didn’t even make it to court, and if it did, they definitely didn’t show it in the newspaper.” She switched over to the exhibit list and Sam took the computer back.

“How did he get his hands on some of this? I don’t even think some of this would have been taken as evidence, it’s like personal belongings and school records.”

Y/N shrugged, “I don’t know. But there’s a way for you to find out.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked with a frown.

Y/N tossed Dean a set of security credentials, “There just happens to be a security officer and curator position open, and since whatever this is is into dudes…” she trailed off and gestured vaguely at them. “Looks like you boys are going undercover,” she said with a grin.

Dean groaned, “Fantastic.”

Dean stomped down the sidewalk and fidgeted with his tie as they approached the entrance to the museum, “Why do I have to wear this stupid suit and you get to wear regular clothes?”

“Because you have to look like you’re working for a respectable security company, and I have to look like someone that’s got a doctorate and will fit the part of ‘eccentric curator’,” Sam said with a smile.

Dean groaned, “You’re eccentric, alright.” He stopped in front of the door and put a hand on Sam’s chest, “Listen up, and listen good. You keep it together in there. That museum is like some sort of weird wet dream for you, so I need you to keep your mind on the task at hand so we can get out of there as quickly as possible. I’d much rather spend my time in New Orleans on Bourbon Street than surrounded by true crime porn for nerds like you. You freakin’ owe me, dude.” Dean threw the door open and stormed in with Sam on his heels.

Sam managed to catch up to Dean and stopped in front of the main desk, “Hello, we’re here for the curator and security officer interviews. I’m Dr. Clay Miller, and this is Tom Hannigan.”

The frazzled lady sitting behind the desk looked up, her large eyes magnified further by thick glasses. “Oh, hello boys, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Susan Ellis.” She looked between the two large men and tilted her head, “Do you know each other?”

Dean smiled, “Yes, ma'am, we’re cousins. Good looks and great career choices run in the family.” He winked, and she looked down at her hands, her cheeks flushed.

“Oh, now, isn’t that nice? Well, I’ll be honest, the plan was to interview you two, but honestly we’re struggling. Since Dr. Lyons passed away,” she closed her eyes and made the sign of the cross, “it’s drawn even more visitors. I guess having serial attacks and murders have brought true crime buffs out of the woodwork. None of the temp agencies will send us replacement guards, and it’s just been a heck of a time. So, as of today, consider yourselves hired.”

Dean held out his hand, “Thank you, ma’am, we appreciate it. If you could just show me where the security office is, I’ll get started.”

She gingerly shook his outstretched hand, “Absolutely, dear.” She pointed at the hallway that stretched out to Sam’s right, “If you take that hallway, the curator’s office is the third door on the left.

Sam smiled, “Thank you.” He nodded at Dean, then strolled off towards the office.

Dean held out his arm as Susan moved around the desk, “Shall we?”

Susan smiled, “Absolutely, my dear.” She took Dean’s arm and they walked in the opposite direction than Sam went. “It truly is good timing that you two came in today. I’ve been getting volunteers, some of our regulars, but that’s not really ideal. They mostly just want free access to the exhibits.” She pulled a set of keys out of her pocket and flipped through them. “It’s just nice to have someone that actually makes it feel safe around here.” She fumbled the key into the lock and the door opened with a creak.

A bank of security monitors greeted Dean, their screens filled with blurry black and white images as people walked through the museum. One screen showed the parking lot, and another showed the back entrance.

“Susan, have you had time to go through the security footage from the other night?”

She shook her head, “No, I’ve been scrambling trying to get replacements and to try to keep this place open. The police took a copy of it, but otherwise I haven't seen it or heard if they found anything.”

Dean nodded, “Fair enough.” Susan started to leave the room and Dean cleared his throat, “Umm...do you know what he was working on? I've heard a few rumors...you know how it is.” He offered her a smile and she frowned.

“He wouldn't let anyone near it. I'm not sure what was so important, but he wanted to keep it a surprise. Dr. Lyons was a good man, but very strange. Hopefully Dr. Miller will be able to piece it together.”

“My cousin is pretty good at his job, I'm sure he will.” Susan smiled, then turned and left, shutting the door behind her. Dean pulled out his phone and began scrolling through footage as he waited for an answer.

“Hey, what's up?”

“I'm in the security office, looks like there's a ton of footage to go through. I'm going to hang in here for awhile before I take a walk around the building. You find anything yet?”

Sam sighed, “No, there are literally boxes upon boxes in here. The man may have catalogued everything meticulously, but his storage habits are nonexistent. I've got a lot to go through.”

Dean stopped the footage starting the morning before the murders, “Alright, well I'm going to look for stuff around the time of the murder. I'll probably go back to the dates of the physical attacks too. Let me know if you find anything.”

“Will do. See you later.” Sam hung up and Dean leaned forward and squinted at the monitor. It was going to be a long afternoon.

Sam sat back in his chair and sighed. Normally, he would love digging through what Lyons had managed to scrounge up; report cards, clothing, drawings that he’d only seen in documentaries. There were boxes upon boxes of things that should have been impossible to have. Sam wondered how much money he’d spent and if he’d gone to more unconventional means of acquiring it, but he’d been unable to find anything to confirm the suspicion. Regardless, none of the boxes held the answer he was looking for, and it appeared that Dr. Lyons, though strange and probably slightly sketchy in his ways of obtaining rare objects, was probably not the person that was causing the murders.

Sam ran a hand over his tired face, making a mental note to shave as soon as they got back to the hotel, then froze when his eyes fell on a rug that was in the center of the floor. He narrowed his eyes, his head tilted as he stared at the far corner of the fabric, its edge flipped up to reveal what looked like spray paint. He stood and walked slowly towards it, carefully navigating boxes and folders that he’d already gone through, and stopped just at the edge of the rug.

“What the hell?” he muttered as he kicked the rug back a little further. Most of it was still hidden, but there was definitely a symbol painted in nearly the same color as the floor. He moved the rest of the boxes that were pinning down the rug and pulled the entire thing back to reveal an unfamiliar symbol. It was hard to really tell what it looked like since the paint matched so closely to the floor, so he went back to the desk and scrounged a piece of paper and a pen, then came back and sketched it out. Even with it being clear, Sam had no idea what it was for. He pulled out his phone and dialed Y/N, who answered on the first ring.

“What’s up, Sam? Find anything?”

“Yea, I think so. I’m going to send you a picture of a symbol, can you help me find what it means? It feels vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“Sure thing, send it on over. I’ll call you when I have something.” She hung up, and Sam took a picture of his sketch and texted it to her.

As he waited for Y/N to respond, he called Dean as he stared down at the symbol.

“Find something?”

“Yea, I think so. I sent a picture of it to Y/N, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before. There was a symbol painted on the floor, and someone had covered it with a rug. I think you should probably come look at it.”

“Sure, be right there.” The line went dead and Sam put his phone back in his pocket. No matter how hard he thought, he just couldn’t place it. The door opened and Dean wandered in, his eyes wide at the sight of so many boxes.

“Dude, you weren’t kidding. He’s even more of a nerd than you.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Just look at the damn symbol.”

Dean smirked, but remained silent as he walked over to where Sam pointed. He walked slowly around the symbol, his brows furrowed as he tried to figure out where he’d seen it before. “I’m not sure. It does feel familiar, but I don’t know where I would have seen it.” He’d made it back to where Sam was standing when he tilted his head and knelt down. “Hmmm…”

“What?” Sam asked as he watched Dean trace his hand along the middle, near the crooks.

“Is this exactly like you found it? You didn’t drag anything across it?” Dean asked as he looked up at Sam.

Sam shook his head, “No. I mean, I moved some boxes, but I picked them up, I didn’t drag them...why?”

Before Dean could answer, Sam’s phone rang, “Hello?”

“Hey. I think I found something, and you aren’t going to like it.”

Sam put the phone on speaker so that Dean could hear, “When do I ever like it? What did you find?”

“That symbol…it’s a summoning sigil. Specifically for Adnachiel, also known as ‘the hunter demon’. I found it in an old book of Bobby’s.”

“That explains why it’s so familiar, I probably saw it researching. Any idea of how to stop it?”

“Well, first you’d have to find who’s controlling it. Whoever did it would have had to paint it in one stroke for it to be successful. There’s a reversal spell, but the sigil would have to be left unbroken. If it’s been broken, whoever summoned it will lose control, the demon will do what it does best, which is hunt, and it’s going to be way harder to stop. I’d assume since it was hidden, it’s probably good though, right?”

Dean groaned, “You’d think that...but I’ve got some bad news.”

Sam frowned, “What?”

Dean smacked the symbol where he’d run his hand over it a moment before, “Because someone must have dragged something over it and scraped the paint. The symbol is broken. Which means-”

“Which means it’s going to keep roaming the museum, killing people, until we stop it.” Sam muttered, his eyes locked on the sigil.

Like what you see? Would you like to read more? Check out my master list HERE.

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[sarahreesbrennan]

Congratulations on your new book! I'm so excited to read it. :) Although, I also wanted to ask, will any of the extras for Turn of the Story, such as Adara's side story, be left up? I want to know so I make sure to save it ahead of time.

Thank you so much for the congratulations, my sweet! I so hope you will like IN OTHER LANDS.

Any side dishes I prepared are generally left at the table for my beloved guests of the mind to nibble at! Definitely the side story about Adara, one of Elliot’s classmates and a beautiful warrior lady born in lands fantastical, is still up. I have located it and put it right her for you!

LOVE FROM BOTH SIDES

“You’re so pretty,” her mother said to Adara when she was five, six, seven, and eight, learning how much she wanted and every way she could think of to get it all. “The world’s going to be handed to you on a silver platter, darling.”When the Border guard came recruiting Adara said she wanted to go, like her brothers had before her, to serve in warrior training. She’d always beaten every boy at games, at foot-racing. She thought it seemed a good idea. She didn’t expect them to laugh at her. “What, those golden curls make you think you’re one of those fighting Sunborn women?” asked her uncle, pulling her hair a fraction too hard to be playful.She went, just the same. She did not think, until later, about how quickly the world she was promised had boundaries set on it.On the first day of Border camp there were so many other kids, more than Adara had ever dreamed of in her little village. And she couldn’t help but notice there were more boys than girls, and most of the girls seemed destined for the council course. There was a girl who definitely had dwarf blood: Adara didn’t see how she could hold her own in a fight.Most of the girls that there were, were from the other side of the Border, and looking very uncertain about staying. Some short otherlands idiot had been running his mouth and putting everybody off.If Adara was one of the few girls from a Borderlands family, she was the best representative the Borderlands could possibly have. She approached a girl who was looking unsure but tempted, a girl almost as pretty as Adara was herself, her eyes sparkling even as she bit her lip and said: “Fighting? I don’t know.”“You’ll know once I teach you,” Adara told her, and they linked elbows and were best friends, easy as two cherries with a joined stem.“My name’s Natalie Ventura,” said Natalie, and Adara laughed, delighted: she’d never heard a name like that before.That evening, eating meat off the bone around a roaring fire, she saw all the boys forming little groups, and no girls allowed in any of them. She told her new friend Natalie that Natalie could ask that girl, and that girl, and that one, to sit and eat with them. She formed her own group.After her group were all sitting comfortably, laughing and feeling chosen, Adara noticed one boy sitting apart from all the others, talking to a tall girl with her dark hair ruffling gently in the night breeze to display the curve of elven ears. Her face did not show any emotion, but his did. He was leaning close to her, listening to what she had to say: his face was attentive, interested, intent. His hair was chased gold and his tanned skin darkened by the firelight, so he looked burnished and brilliant. “I know,” said one of the girls Adara had chosen, seeing where she was looking and sighing. “That’s Luke Sunborn.”Those fighting Sunborn women.Adara thought: of course it was.*Adara did very well at the Border camp. She was the best of the girls, everyone acknowledged that, and even though fewer people mentioned it she was better than most of the boys, too.Sometimes the elf Chaos-of-Battle edged her out, but that didn’t count. Everyone knew she was getting help from Luke Sunborn. Natalie invited her to come stay over the summer, if she could cross the Border. Adara climbed the stone steps into the clouds and then spread her arms wide and looked down at her first city, laid out before her like an open jewelry box, and felt that it was absolutely right that she should have the power to cross, that she should have two worlds ready for the taking.*

Luke Sunborn wasn’t perfect. He had the bad taste to pal around with Chaos-of-Battle and Schafer, that supercilious elf who thought she was better than everyone, who never even had to try, and the short guy from the council course who kept saying he disapproved of violence and then driving people to it. But he seemed made to be happy, so beloved that he could afford to always be kind, like a victory statue made flesh. His attention was a gift everybody craved: to have it permanently would be like having a piece of high steady ground to stand on, to be never questioned again.Adara tried to talk to him, in class, at practice, down by the lake when everyone was stripped down and casting each other shy glances. The leaves caught sunlight in a net overhead, and dappled light slid down the delicate brown curve of Natalie’s back, cast green-tinted shadows in Dale Wavechaser’s glorious eyes, and almost every girl around the brimming waters was looking at Luke Sunborn with his shirt off. No other boy his age had shoulders like that, muscled as if they were meant to bear any weight put on them.Look at me, Adara thought, but he never did. *Adara’s first kiss was with Dale Wavechaser, who was definitely the second-best-looking boy in their year—Adara’s group had discussed it many times and were absolutely sure—and was almost never a jerk.It happened down by the lake. They came down early, when the morning was still pale gray and the lake looked like a pearl. Dale’s hair was soft and his arms hard under her fingers, and it was nice.It was less nice when Dale’s friends surprised them kissing and one of them gave Dale a high five as if he’d won at Trigon. Adara felt better the next day, when she came top in history and Dale came dead last, and she made fun of him. Dale got his fun handed to him on silver platters, as it turned out: Adara had to make her own.But she could, so what did it matter?“You don’t have to be so mean,” said Dale, looking upset.“I know,” said Adara. “I enjoy it.”*Adara went home with Natalie every summer. She liked it there, everything so strange and different, with so many rules changed. Adara learned the rules of that place, too, so she could win over there.She stopped jumping when cars went by after a few days, and it only took her a day more to accept it when the boys in the cars hooted or honked their horns. It was just something boys did, when they could make you nothing but a pretty picture in their rear-view mirrors. Adara made sure it was never a picture of someone caught off guard, even for a moment.She learned to dress exactly right, dance exactly right, and use the internet so she never had to ask anyone what she wanted to learn.The rules were so different that what happened on one of their late nights, lying on the carpet for hours in a pool of orange light like no light in Adara’s world, seemed natural. “I mean, they say everyone’s a little bit capable of liking both,” Natalie said slowly. “Like, if you were on a desert island, obviously. Or… some people are just so hot that anyone would, right?”She was lying with one arm propping her up, chin against her palm, but then she drifted down to where Adara lay flat on the carpet. Her eyes were illuminated, turning the strange light soft.And it all made so much sense to Adara, as much sense as Natalie’s arm linked through hers on their very first day.But Natalie wouldn’t look at her that way in the daylight, any more than Luke Sunborn would.*Louise Sunborn was only a few years older than Adara, and she was leading a troop of soldiers into battle. She rode better and fought better than any man, laughed loudest and longest, talked and expected everybody to listen. All the men watched her, all the men wanted her, and all the men obeyed her.She was the most beautiful person Adara had ever seen.

*

War was different than Adara had thought, a chaos in which all the skills she had painfully learned seemed worse than useless more than half the time. War was worth it for two things: the few brief shining moments of triumph, and the quiet nights around the campfire when she could sit, hold Natalie’s hand and listen to Louise Sunborn reading out Schafer’s ridiculous and over-the-top love letters to Serene-Heart-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle.Wartime meant they were all desperate to grow up, drink as deep as they could from the cup of life before it was snatched away. One day when Louise was reading the latest letter, Natalie bagged a Sunborn called Neal, and Chaos-of-Battle allowed herself to be kissed by Darius Winterchild. Serene always acted as if she was indulging the pretty things, as if she might laugh about them with her friends later rather than the other way around, and it annoyed Adara deeply.But it provided Adara with the perfect opportunity to drift over to where Luke Sunborn sat watching his sister.“You’re looking lonely,” she said, and it was true.“I’m trying to listen,” said Luke, an edge in his voice.Then Louise Sunborn was wounded and carried off the battlefield, in the same battle where Darius Winterchild was killed, and without her to look to Adara felt so impossibly lost, so terrified. There was only Luke left, now, and surely they were all too young to prevail.Unbelievably, Luke Sunborn carried the day. Adara had always been good with the sword, but never more than on the last day of her first war, when she moved like a dancer and brought all down before her, when the sound of her sword striking was the precursor to trumpets and bells and she knew that they had won, and winning meant they were going to live.When the battle was done and the cheering began she held Natalie’s hand, their fingers slippery with blood, and Adara was grateful enough to acknowledge that Serene had even helped Luke lead.Victory was so sweet. Adara wanted nothing more than to taste it again, and again, and again.*The month Natalie chose a Borderlands surname was the same month Adara became involved in the school plays. She always got chosen to be the leading lady, the love interest: who wouldn’t choose her? She loved being chosen, and she loved the sound of applause, every person who clapped another one choosing her.She got Natalie into it as well, but unlike Natalie she never went and sat at the table with all the council trainees who were involved in drama. Adara could like it: but she knew not to like it enough.*Sometimes when Adara visited Natalie’s house she used the computer to look up things she never wanted Natalie to know she was curious about. She learned a lot of new words she never told Natalie about.Even still, she was surprised to see a parade go down the street one day when they were eating doughnuts in a café. Adara thought doughnuts were marvelous, the jam inside, the sugar dusting them: it was all so clever. The tops of these were stale, stiff in her mouth, but she was still eating hers happily when the parade went by, the windows filling with rainbow colors, and Mrs Ventura’s mouth went flat behind her teacup.Adara wanted to ask what was going on, but she did not because she was not like Schafer, socially inappropriate and demanding words that nobody wanted to give and making sure nobody liked him.“These are so good,” she said. “Thank you for taking us out, Mrs Ventura.”And Mrs Ventura, who was afraid of losing Natalie altogether and with good reason, smiled a smile that softened her whole face and put her teacup down.“You can have mine, too,” said Natalie. “I don’t fancy it, somehow.”Adara took it.

*

The next year, she heard Chaos-of-Battle talking with Schafer about pamphlets from somebody called a guidance counselor, and Adara thought those words, strange when put together, sounded wonderful: someone to guide and advise, someone who knew the right words and could put them in your hands.“I’ll give them to you, but I honestly don’t know if they’ll be any help,” said Schafer. “I’m telling you, this guidance counselor was useless and rubbish.”Adara thought: at least he’d had the choice, to take or reject guidance. He and Serene were so utterly ungrateful about everything.Why they had been discussing the matter at all came clear later, when Luke Sunborn caused a sensation in class by announcing he liked boys.Adara was not unduly disturbed. She remembered Natalie saying: everyone likes both, and how it had made absolute, perfect, total sense, how it had seemed so shiningly obvious. That didn’t mean you messed up your whole life. It did mean that Luke was not mad about Serene, as everyone had assumed for years. So Dale could stop walking around looking as if he’d already won a beautiful shining trophy: he hadn’t won anything yet.It must have been a nasty shock for Chaos-of-Battle, since she then apparently lost all self-respect and began courting with Schafer. That didn’t last, of course, but it proved what Adara had always known: that Chaos-of-Battle was not so great after all, that Adara was better.*The next year a perfect opportunity was delivered to Adara, like a world on a silver platter.Luke Sunborn got involved in the school play, and Adara was the star: he was cast to be her love interest.That meant that Adara was given a great deal of time to spend with Luke, such as when Schafer was occupied dancing attendance on the dwarf girl Myra who did the scenery, in the same relentless way he’d pursued Chaos-of-Battle. He showered endearments, made jokes, threw himself into the school play like he’d attended every Trigon game to sit beside the elf. He did everything he could short of just serenading them with a song that went ‘Love me, love me, love me.’As soon as Adara thought that, Schafer actually began to sing a love song: something terrible from the otherlands, about making love wearing a cape. Possibly a song about superheroes: Adara knew about those.Schafer wasn’t terrible-looking, now that he’d grown up and filled out a bit, stopped giving the impression of a short stick with a huge pile of out-of-control hair on top, a sharp nose poking out of the mess, and an opinion everyone had to hear. Myra was not even fully human. He didn’t have to try so hard, and if you asked Adara trying so hard was what would mess everything up for him. It was pathetic.“Here we are, cast as the leads in a play,” said Adara, twinkling up at Luke. “Think the world’s trying to tell us something?”That they would be perfect together, that nobody would ever question them and only admire them.Just listen, Adara thought, but he wasn’t.“I have to… be over there,” said Luke. “Who knows what Elliot could be saying to poor Myra?”He smiled at Adara, the engaging smile that made it impossible for her to be really angry with him. She wished she could have that charm for her own, but it didn’t work for her: its appeal was based on Luke’s absolute sincerity, and she did not know how to reproduce that.She could only watch Luke’s back, departing in the direction of Schafer and Myra.“Hey, loser,” said Schafer, demeanor changing at Luke’s approach, calmer and happier and acting as if that was an appropriate way to talk to Luke. “Do you think you could use your severely limited musical ability to hum a tune so I can show Myra some dance moves?”“Nope, I am not going to do that, thanks for asking so politely,” said Luke, and smiled at Myra. “I’m afraid I’m not very musical.”

Adara saw how Myra’s dark eyes lit up, talking to Luke. So many people looked at Luke that way, as if his regard could touch them with gold.“What’s a piney collider?” Luke continued, which was a fair question.Schafer frowned at him as if he was stupid. “Pina coladas,” he said testily, but then grinned because he was a weirdo. “ ‘If you like pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain, if you’re not into yoga, if you have half a brain’—well, that lets you out, obviously…”He rattled on, alternately insulting and singing, making a very sad spectacle of himself as per usual. In spite of how hard he was trying, Adara noticed, Myra was not really paying the least bit of attention to Schafer. Myra was looking at Luke. Too bad for Schafer.*Too bad for Adara, as it turned out.It happened on the night of the school play, when she was feeling as if all triumphs were certain and anyone trying to bring her down might as well be shooting a crossbow at some distant star.She had been dancing, whirling with Schafer across a stage and to the sound of music and sighs and applause. She was the main character of the story, the lead of the whole play, and everybody watching wanted her, believed in her, wished for her victory.So when she grabbed Luke Sunborn for the big kiss scene, it seemed natural to kiss him: it seemed certain to her that this was the moment pretence would become real.Except that it wasn’t the moment she’d thought it would be: the fact he looked the part of the hero didn’t mean that he acted right. Luke’s big bronzed shoulders stayed stiff in her hands, his mouth unyielding under hers as if she’d kissed a beautiful statue.She’d been taught all her life the only way to get what she wanted was to push past all limits, but someone else’s boundaries were limits you were not meant to push against.Adara left the party and the congratulations as far behind her as she could, went out to the burning fires where she’d first seen Luke Sunborn, and sat on a log with her head in her hands, and had to face it all. She’d been chasing someone with no interest in her, pushing the way boys she wasn’t even slightly interested in pushed at her. She’d been so desperate she hadn’t seen it.Luke hadn’t wanted her, not ever, and nor had Natalie. Neither of them, and neither of them were going to change their minds, no matter how shiningly brilliant she made herself out to be.She was pathetic, as pathetic as Schafer.She was just thinking that when she spotted Schafer, and he apologized for kissing her, for ignoring her boundaries. She didn’t even know why that made her want to kiss him. It was against all reason.She told herself it was just about having a good time and blotting out all the bad feelings of the night, until Schafer told her he’d slept with men. (Adara was prepared to bet just one man, because even though she was currently doing it, she refused to accept a world in which all that many people would willingly go to bed with Schafer.)And it was like being told the most important secret in the world, like having someone draw you close and whisper it to you. Maybe not everyone, but you, and me too: you are not alone. Being as pathetic as Elliot did not seem, for a little while, like a death sentence.Besides, Schafer was shockingly competent in the sack.*

“Did I—when we kissed, when we were younger, was that all right?” Adara asked Dale Wavechaser, months later.Dale blinked. “Oh, sure,” he said. “I mean—no offence, Adara, but I was younger and still working things out. I was maybe a little confused, but I’m not confused any more.”“Confused, huh?” Adara asked, and felt that dart of pained guilt, the feeling that she should have boundaries worked out like Sunborn and Natalie and Dale and the most certain and self-assured person in the world, Serene-Heart-in-the-Chaos-of-goddamn-Battle. But she thought of Schafer: she clung to the thought of him some days, though she did not even like him. He hadn’t seemed confused.“Don’t be in love with me, okay?” Dale asked anxiously.“Don’t worry,” said Adara, rolling her eyes.It was the closest she could come to apologizing to Luke Sunborn, she supposed, since he clearly did not care what she did or how she felt about him. He hardly ever registered when she was there, but when he did notice her he frowned slightly, and she edged away, removing the presence that dimmed his light. She made him able to forget her.That was another apology, even if he never realized. *“I’m done, done with it all,” said Natalie on the very first day of their very last year in the Border camp. “I’m never going back.”And Adara lay out in front of her very own cabin, where she could have anyone she wanted spend the night and nobody would ever know unless she chose. She thought about the little village she’d grown up in, thought about the Border camp and the clean singing energy of winning, being so gifted at dancing or fighting that there was no need for words. She thought of the chaos of war with trolls roaring and the bright shapes of harpies overhead like stars in a daytime sky. She thought of cities laid out before her like open jewelry boxes, full of new words to be learned and opportunities to be taken.Two worlds for the taking, even if they did not come on silver platters.“Never’s a strong word,” Adara said. “Why limit yourself?”