---Comma---

     "Lucky guess? You almost blew our only chance at this!"

     I feel my inner eyes roll. If there's one thing I've learned in the half a millennium I've been alive, it's that sometimes you've got to take risks in order to accomplish anything. Of course, I can't expect Tahj to be as wise as a woman of my years—ugh, did I really just think that? Is it wrong of me to be attracted to him despite our age difference? I mean, technically, from his point of view, he's the older one. Hang on... what were we talking about? Oh... right.

     "Chance at what?" I play it off like I was paying attention. "Doing his stupid trials? I'm taking the zillbane, whether his gods like it or not." I really should've brought Em along. He would never question me. Speaking of which... "We should open a rip for Em and the others."

     Tahj tenses up. Jealous much? I stifle a grin. "Be my guest," he mutters.

     "Not in here." Do I need to explain everything? Why are the pretty ones always so stupid? "That'll let the glowdarks in. I'll have to step outside."

     "I'll wait here."

     "Think you can manage not to get yourself killed?" I flirt, batting my eyelashes.

     "I make no promises," he flirts back.

     I start to make for the exit when I hear the stone door grumble as it recedes into the ceiling. The were-tiger ascends into the main chamber, clapping the dirt off of his hands. "The gods have granted me permission to begin the second trial." He glances at me, a little wide of eye level. Pervy old man. "Please follow me."

     "Tell your gods to wait."

     He frowns, accentuating his chiselled jaw-line. God, I'm older than he is too, aren't I? The thought makes me want to burrow into my toque like a rabbit into a magician's hat.

     "Do you really think that's wise?" he asks, and I can hear the threat in his voice. Cocky bastard. If he thinks he can tell me what to... I glance at Tahj. He flashes me a look back.

     "Go ahead," says Tahj. "I'll open the rip."

     "You sure?"

     "I trust you."

     I wish I could say the same, I think to myself. But it's better not to trust anyone. I learned that lesson the hard way. Relenting, for the moment at least, I follow the old man through the opened door. We descend a spiralled stone staircase in total darkness, the echoes of our footsteps bouncing back and forth along the walls. There's a wet sort of sound to them I think, but it's hard to tell for certain with my ears crammed underneath this toque.

     I plug my nose as something rank wafts our way. The soles of my shoes make squishing noises as I tread over goo-slicked steps, carefully making my way to the bottom. "What gives? Something die down here or what?"

     "You might say that."

     Something crunches beneath my heels. Bones, brittle like, well... brittle. I bend over and pick one up. Scratch at a thin piece of dried flesh still clinging to it. It doesn't smell like human meat, that's for sure. Kind of like duck, actually.

     "You want to hit the lights, old man?"

     "What's the matter?" somebody whispers into my ear. "Afraid of the dark?"

     Hang on, that voice...

     Crack.

     Not sure if that's my head cracking or the blunt object that whacked it. Hopefully the latter, but I'm not too confident. Because I wake up who knows how many hours later with a splitting headache, my neck and cheeks caked with dried blood. My wrists are shackled together, as are my ankles.

     "Wakey wakey." The old perv tips his hat. This room is much smaller than the other one. A lot less blood. Lit by a single candle, the flame burning bluish-green. An empty sarcophagus rests on the floor next to me.

     "If you so much as thought about touching me—"

     "I'm hurt. You know I'm a man of god. Well, a god, anyhow."

     "Where is she?" I can smell her. Can't help but sniff my own armpits a little too. How is it that she manages to stay lilac-fresh even after bathing in entrails?

     "Never you worry, Sheila." His cowboy boots clunk against the floor. "She'll be along."

     I swish around some blood in my mouth and then spit. "There never were any trials, were there? I knew there was no way a lousy old pervert like you could be a shaman."

     Grayson—that was his name, right?—spins around, casting a cold look in my direction. "You've got a big mouth, don't ya?" He cracks his knuckles. "Might need to do something about that." He squats down in front of me.

     I chuckle. "Want a newspaper?"

     He bashes his knuckles against my left temple. "Let me promise you this, little missus, I will break you, you mark my words."

     "What's that?" I ask, my vision blacking out for a moment. "All I caught was your nasty dingo-breath."

     I flinch, thinking he's going to hit me again, but he only smiles. "You ain't scared, huh? Well you ought to be."

     "Of you?" I spit again, another mouthful of salty blood. Think I can even feel a tooth wobble when I swish my tongue around. That bitch—she totally stomped on my face when I was passed out.

     "Scared of him?" Her giggle sounds like rattling wind chimes as her figure graces the doorway. "Of course not. Of me."

     I roll my eyes. "How long were you standing there waiting to say that?"

     Selina's grown quite a bit since I saw her last. Her smooth skin radiates even in the eerie glow of the tomb. She's curvier—too curvy, if you ask me. Freaking show off. A streak of white runs down the middle of her golden curls. Meaning she's gotten pretty damn powerful with the magicks. Meanwhile, I haven't got so much as a single strand of grey.

     "I see you grew yourself a new hand." I smirk. "I've still got your old one lying around in a box somewhere."

     She's got on a peacock-blue satin gown with a suede bodice to match. Her white sleeves ripple as she gestures with her hands. Again, not even a sweat stain. Versus me sitting here in my bloodstained T-shirt and hole-ridden jeans.

     "Oh, Comma. That is what you're calling yourself these days, right?" Selina seats herself on top of the sarcophagus, drumming her fingernails against the wooden lid. To the untrained eye, a Class-A ditz. That's a neat little trick of hers; she can make it look like there's absolutely nothing going on behind those reflective pupils of hers. She fake-pouts. "I would've thought you'd be happy to see me."

     "Oh, I am," I say with a grin. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to bash in that baby face of yours."

     Grayson snorts. "Somebody ought to put her in line."

     "All in good time." Selina hops off the sarcophagus and glides over to me. "Mind giving us a minute? My bestie and I have some catching up to do."

     "You heard the girl. Shoo, kitty," I say.

     He doesn't look too happy about it, but he obliges just the same. I doubt there's a single male in the oneness who could ever say no to Selina. Or a female, for that matter.

     "So." She sits down next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. "How've you been?"

     "I'm not in the mood for your games, Selina."

     She lifts her head and narrows her eyes. "Do lets be civil, my dear. You're going to tell me everything I want to know, even if I have to pick your brain for it." She means that literally. "Besides, aren't you dying to hear what I've been up to?"

     I sigh. She's really going to milk this, isn't she? Fine. "How did you—"

     "Uh-uh." She wags a finger. "Me first. Made any new friends recently?"

     I'll play her stupid game. New friends. In other words, how many people am I travelling with? "You might say that. Let's see, there's Gail and Topher. Crawford. Tahj. Oh, and Em of course." Here's how to play the game: tell her exactly what she wants to hear without actually telling her exactly what she wants to hear. The she-devil's in the details. For instance, she doesn't need to know we've got a shikigami travelling with us.

     "Well, aren't you popular?"

     "My turn." I pause, thinking to myself. "Are you shacking up with the cat-man?"

     Selina gags. "Oh, gods no. He is so not my type. Besides, he's celibate."

     What this tells me: Grayson's motivated by something other than lust. Meaning he's working for Selina for some other reason. Also meaning he can be persuaded to turn against her. Good to know.

     "And how about you?" Selina asks. "Anyone special in your life?"

     Translation: which one of your friends do I need to kill to hurt you most? "Nah. I happen to like the single life, thank you very much." Sure, I was having some sort of fling with this guy from my old group, but we had an understanding. That understanding being if we wind up stranded in different dimensions without any sure-fire way of getting back to each other, we're allowed to see other people. "My turn again. Have you—"

     "You're lying to me."

     My eye twitches. "What?"

     Selina stands up. "I know you better than you know yourself. You're weak. Dependant. You always latch on to someone. I of all people know that." She wiggles her fingers. "Maybe we need to take a little peak inside that head of yours."

     "Are you that eager to lose another hand?"

     But she ignores me and prods at my brain with her clammy fingers before I can say "Ah." I stay perfectly still—if I budge even an inch, I'll negate her magic. And then she'll actually be sticking her fingers through my forehead and into my brain. I'm not too certain, but I have a feeling that would kill me. It almost did the last time. Besides, I need to concentrate. I'm not as weak as she thinks I am; if I focus hard enough, I can block her out.

     Selina slides her fingers back out when she's done, thankfully leaving my brain intact. She stares at me with knitted eyebrows. "You've gotten pretty good at resisting me, haven't you?"

     "I don't have your gauntlet anymore, if that's what you're after."

     "That's all right." She winks. "You've got something much more valuable."

     Much more valuable? What the hell does that...? Em! She licks her lips as she no doubt reads the worry on my face. I scowl. "You need a ripper."

     She nods. "Ours kind of got bifurcated when the locals attacked. Stupid bird-brains. They weren't too thrilled about the idea of the zillbane falling into our hands." The bones in the other room... that explains it. The natives—bird-human hybrids, like the statues, I'm guessing—tried to stop Selina and her feline friend from getting their grubby hands on the blade of shadow's bane. So she killed them all. Then cat-man picked the bones clean.

     "Em will never bow to the likes of you. He may be scrawny, but he's got more backbone than Puss in cowboy boots."

     "No. But he'll listen to you, I'm sure." She starts removing her clothing. Odd choice of tactics. Once she's naked, she starts to morph into... me. Her skin darkens. Her hair straightens out and turns black. Her breasts shrink—gee, thanks. We're identical except for the fact that she's still got a white streak running down the middle of her hair.

     Then she whispers something and my own clothing begins to unravel. The threads float over to her and wrap themselves around her body, an invisible hand stitching them back together. Now I'm naked, and she's sporting my T-shirt and jeans. And underwear, ugh. Then the finishing touch: she leans down and yanks the toque off my head.

     "Neat trick," I mutter, wishing I'd had the foresight to bite her fingers off before she could take my... Apostrophe's toque.

     "I know, right?" She spins around, showing off her new body. "You like?"

     "Is that a trick question?"

     She stops spinning. "Oh. There is one more thing I need."

     "You've literally taken the shirt off my back. What more could you possibly..."

     Her fist punctures my flesh and her fingernails sink into my heart.

     "...want?" I cough up blood.

     "Here's the thing. I kind of used up my aura. I can't even summon my scimitar anymore. So I'm going to have to leech some of yours. But hey, silver lining! Even if you die, technically, a piece of your soul will still be with me."

     "Yay... me..." I groan as my vision gets blurry. All of my senses seem to meld into one, and then they all go dead at once. Not like purgatory though. Occasional waves of distorted perceptions wash over me, letting me know I'm still here. Gradually, I phase back into existence, my senses switching on one by one.

     I lie in a puddle of my own sticky blood. Selina's scent lingers, but as far as I can tell, I'm alone now. On the flip side, that means she's probably with Em and the others. I need to get to work. Her soul-drain has left my aura all but depleted. A shiver runs down my back, and not just because I'm naked.

     I'm going to have to do that.

     I scooch over a bit and stare at the puddle of blood. With my hands cuffed behind my back, I have no way to plug my nose. So I take a deep breath and then dive right in. I lick up my own blood, swallowing quickly to try and avoid the taste. Alpen blood is infused with our aura. That aura remains in the blood, even after it's spilled or congealed. I lick the puddle until my tongue scrapes against the hard rock.

     Good. Try not to vomit, I tell myself. That would be even more difficult to lick up. Next up: these shackles. Time for a little contortionist act. Using the strength I've recovered from lapping up my own blood, I manage to slip my arms underneath me and over my legs. Then I scour the room for a decent-sized stone and start smashing away at the chain. I overexert myself, passing out from the light-headedness.

     When I wake up, I get right back to it. After I've freed up my wrists, I get to work on my ankles. When it's over with, I'm drenched in sweat and blood and dirt and who knows what else. But I don't exactly have time to go take a bath in the oasis. I slip into Selina's abandoned dress. Except I have to tear up the skirt for running. I also remove the sleeves.

     Then I stumble back through the hall of bones and climb up the goo-drenched stairwell. I'm not too ashamed to admit that I grabbed a couple of bones Grayson hadn't entirely picked clean to nibble on. Not such a great idea—the raw meat makes me vomit, weakening me even more.

     When I finally reach the pyramid's entrance, the outside is swarming with glowdarks. Option A: I stay here and starve to death. Let Selina kill all of my friends. Option B: I attempt to fight my way through the glowdarks. I fail and get to find out what my lungs taste like.

     I can't help but smile: another win-win.

Author's Note:

Can Comma make it to her friends in time? Oh, wait. We already know the answer to that one, don't we?

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