"Our attack on the Enemy has borne great fruit," Sol expounded, 
making grandiose and voluminous gestures at the walls, the ceiling, 
and his bowl of rice. "Dozens of sentients cruelly held captive now 
taste the sweet honey of freedom. Though most are happy to simply 
enjoy the fresh air of liberty, they will soon answer our clarion call to 
join the crusade against the Worldwide Global Conspiracy that 
enslaves us all. Already, the first of them have joined us in our war 
against evil... and | have heard that one even now strikes back 
against the enemy on her own." 


"If you mean that Vector bitch, then | don't know where you're 
getting your information. That crazy whore is in it for herself, not for 
any cause,” Sandra muttered angrily. 


"She strikes against the minions of the Conspiracy. Her cause and 
ours are the same." 


"Forgive me, Sol, if | don't think that attacking an AIDS clinic and 
killing a bunch of sick people to steal their strains of HIV is 
particularly helpful in fighting the GOC." 


"You are as short-sighted as usual, Sandra. Clearly you must see..." 


It was always like this. Sandra and Sol would argue. Michel would sit 
by and watch in silence. And the Professor would just listen and 
then, at the right moment, make a single cutting remark that would 
make both Sandra and Sol realize how stupid they were being. And 
as for James? He just sat there, listened, and felt like a fifth wheel. It 
was not a comfortable feeling, and it was even more uncomfortable 
this time because of the presence of the Girl. 


He glanced over at her, and saw her looking back. He blushed and 
looked down at his half-eaten plate of food, the bright colors of the 
vegetables and the gently bubbling soups arranged impeccably on 
the black laquered table. With shaking hands, he reached for his 


wine cup, found it empty. Almost immediately, she was there at his 
side, pouring him another cupful from a glass bottle. 


Her hands, he noticed, were very white, and her fingers were very 
delicate and tipped with long, red-painted nails. 


"Is your food not to your liking?" she asked, in a voice like bells in 
the wind. "You have barely touched it." 


"It... it's fine," James stammered. He stared down at his food and 
picked up some kind of sliced vegetable with his chopsticks, but his 
hands were shaking so badly that he dropped it into his lap. She 
laughed, not unkindly, and placed a hand over his. "Here," she said. 
"Let me." 


She picked up one of the small white pancakes from the center of 
the nine-sectioned dish and deftly placed a few sections of sliced 
vegetables and meats atop it. She wrapped it up with a few quick 
moves of her chopsticks and held it out to him in her chopsticks. 
James blinked in surprise, then, feeling embarassed, allowed her to 
feed it to him. 


A loud laugh, and he suddenly realized everyone was watching him. 
"Is she not wonderful?" Sol said, with a wry smile. "A truly exquisite 
creature. And the Worldwide Global Conspiracy would keep her 
captive. Is her freedom not enough to justify our crusade against 
them?" 


"Funny you should call it that, considering what happened during the 
Crusades," Sandra muttered. 


And again, the conversation devolved back into the usual argument. 
But James noticed that Her yellow eyes were watching him. 


In the end, they ended up staying the night. 


James couldn't sleep. It was 2 am and he was laying in bed staring 
up at the ceiling. His mind was haunted by the image of a pair of 
lovely yellow eyes staring back at him, his dreams by the memory of 
the touch of her cool fingertips against his wrist. Though an early fall 


breeze cooled the room, the air seemed uncomfortably close and 
warm... stifling, even. He closed his eyes, and all he could see was 
the soft cupid's bow curve of her lips - all he could hear the ringing 
musical sound of her laughter. 


He got up from his bed to get a drink of water, but something out of 
the corner of his eye caught his attention. He went to his window to 
get a closer look, and his breath caught in his throat. 


She was sitting on a large rock in the backyard, running a lacquered 
tortoiseshell comb through Her long, black hair. She was slender 
and lovely, Her pale white skin glowing like pearl in the silver 
moonlight, her gleaming yellow eyes vibrant with life. A divinely 
lovely smile quirked her pale pink lips as flower petals cascaded 
down around her like snowflakes. 


James swallowed hard. 


He went to his door and opened it, then gave a cry of surprise. 
Michel, the huge, muscular Frenchman, was sitting outside his door, 
wrapped in a blanket, with his head cushioned by a pillow. He 
instantly awoke as he heard the door open. "What is it?" Michel 
asked. 


"| was uh... just going to get a glass of water," James stammered. 
Michel nodded. "Go back to your room. I'll get it for you." 

"I'm not a kid, Mick. | can get my own water." 

"James?" Michel said, slowly. "Go back into your room." 


"Fu—" He never finished the sentence. Michel's massive fist lashed 
out and punched him in the jaw, knocking him out cold. 


"Sorry, kid," Michel said. "I'm saving your life." 


She heard the footsteps behind Her, and She smiled. It had been a 
long time since She had hunted man, and She was glad that She 
had not lost her touch. She turned towards him, letting her back arch 
in a carefully calculated move that framed Her face with her black 


hair in the most flattering manner possible... and was surprised to 
see the old man standing there on the garden path. 


"Good evening," he said. "Lovely moon out tonight." 


She smiled at him, quickly recovering from Her surprise. Though not 
the prey She had anticipated, She would make do with this. "It is," 
She admitted. lowering Her eyes in Her most demure manner, and 
covering Her bare shoulders with Her long flowing locks. "It reminds 
me of the moons of my childhood." 


"You must miss them. The days of long ago. You speak of them with 
such nostalgia." 


"It was a different time, back then," She said, letting her hair slip in a 
perfectly calculated manner to bare the back of Her neck. "Things 
were simpler. Now times have changed." 


There was a short pause. "| am seventy years old," the man said. "| 
am not a young man driven by base lusts. Don't try to seduce me 
like you did James." 


This was not going as She had expected. "Even a seventy year old 
man has needs," She purred, tossing Her hair back and letting him 
get a good look at Her body. "I could make you feel young agai—." 


"Why do you do this?" he asked. "It demeans you to carry on like a 
cheap whore." 


She hissed in anger, and for a moment, She lost her concentration 
on the illusion She was spinning. For a bare instant, he saw Her as 
She truly was, and the sight made him flinch in shock, but only for a 
moment. "Insult me again, prey-creature, and | will tear your heart 
out with my claws. | could kill you in an instant." 


"Yes, you could," he admitted. "But what would that accomplish?" 


"It would be what you deserve for doing this to me!" She snapped. 
"Your people have killed the Old. They have bound Myth and 
Legend in prisons of steel, and eradicated the things of Magic with 
cold science. Then you mock even our memories, perverting that 
which you should fear into things of lust and children's fantasies. 


This cannot be abided. | will NOT abide it! | will die, but | will die 
fighting, with my claws red with your blood and my teeth in your 
throat, and | will die Knowing that | was feared!" 


The wind blew, and carried with it the smell of rot and decay. The 
old man smiled. "Yes," he said. "This is the real you. This is what | 
was looking for." 


"What are you talking about?" 
"You have heard Solomon's plans?" 


"Idiocy. The man thinks that he can go to war with the world and 
win. He is useful to me for now, but one of these days, | will taste his 
blood,” She growled. 


"Sol is... a broken man, but he is also a useful one. He has a talent 
for inspiring fools and martyrs, and we have need of both in these 
days. Go along with his plans for now," the old man said. "Help him 
fight his war." 


"Why? It is doomed to fail. He has no subtlety. He will push and 
push, and when he pushes too far, they will strike back with all their 
might, and destroy him." 


"Yes," the old man said. "That is exactly what we want." 


He spoke to her then of plans, of plans within plans, of war and 
betrayal, and of things to come. He told her of the coming war, of the 
fire that would cleanse the world clean, and of the new world that 
would rise from the ashes of the old. He told her of many things, and 
as She listened, She felt something She had not felt in many years. 


Respect. 
At last, She thought. A human who TRULY understands. 


He finished speaking. She nodded. "I will do as you have said," She 
admitted. "But | have only one question." 


"Ask." 


meteorological survey aircraft passing through an affected cloud 
formation. When the aircraft was affected by SCP-858, the pilot, 
Captain . Finch, was able to invert the aircraft and maintain flight for 
several hours; when the plane proved unable to land, Captain Finch 
instructed the crew to bail out. He then continued to fly the affected 
aircraft until it ran out of fuel, at which time he abandoned the craft 
and it entered free-fall- away from the Earth's surface. Captain Finch 
contracted hypothermia and frostbite due to the severe altitude at 
which he bailed out, but he has since made a full recovery. 


The plane's lateral velocity was sufficient to carry it past the 
boundaries of SCP-858. Later reports indicated forced emergency 
maneuvers on the part of a Russian satellite in the trajectory of the 
plane's debris. No other objects have been detected passing the 
Karman line2. 


Finch's descriptions of the oddly colored cloud formations and their 
location led researchers to what remained of a small farming 
community outside of Xenia, Ohio. After Finch later forwarded his 
airline's incident report- in which the instruments showed the plane 
leaving Earth's atmosphere before failing completely- to a 
Foundation agent, an investigative team was dispatched to the 
location. The vehicle in which the team of six arrived was lost upon 
contact with damp road surfaces, but after leaping free of the 
vehicle, losses among initial responders were prevented, as the 
mass of responder hazmat suits were insufficient to overcome their 
occupant's weight. 


Investigation revealed all previously standing structures were 
devastated and, along with all residents outside of cellar shelters 
with strong foundations, unaccounted for. Most survivors were 
initially unwilling to leave their cellars when responders arrived, 
though a family of three was lost when their footwear was saturated 
while crossing their lawn to greet the response team. Reports from 
remaining survivors aided in isolating standing water as the source 
of the anomalous effect, as eyewitness reports stated that survivors 
emerging from their basements were seen rapidly ascending into the 
sky, later ascertained to have been due to assuming the danger had 
passed once there was nothing left to ascend- rainfall was 
continued. Even after precipitation ceased, other vehicles arriving 


"Who are you?" 


"My name is a secret," the old man said, "but most call me The 
Teacher." 


They left with the dawn: James holding an icepack to his jaw and 
arguing with the stoic Michel the whole drive home, while Sandra 
and the Professor listened on in increasingly uncomfortable silence. 
Sol watched the drive away, then walked into the backyard, where 
She was sitting and looking out into the forest. 


"So," he asked. "What did you think of my friends?" 


"They seem like decent folk," She said. "But they lack your vision 
and daring." 


Sol nodded, and put one hand in his pocket and ran the other along 
a windowsill. "You know, last night, after everyone had gone to bed, 
| went to the bathroom. On my way back to the room, | walked by 
this window, when | thought | heard someone talking. | heard an 
interesting conversation. | don't think they realized this window was 
open the whole time." 


She was silent for a moment. "You know | didn't mean anything | 
said," She purred. "| said what | did to draw him out as a traitor. | 
would never betray you, not after all you've done for me." 


"| hear you,” Sol sighed. "But | can't take that chance." 


He shot her twice in the head, saw her fall to the ground dead. He 
shook his head in regret. "Pity," he whispered. "I thought you, of all 
people, would understand." 


"| did," a voice whispered, and Sol knew he was dead. 


She bit his hand off at the wrist first, and it fell to the ground still 
holding the gun. That part was fast. The rest went much slower. 
About the time that she tore open his abdomen and started pulling 
his guts out of his body, he realized he had an erection. 


His last thought before dying was that this was what he'd wanted all 


along. 


The first thing She did was tear down the decorations and burn them 
in the back yard along with the uneaten portions of his body. She 
threw the robes onto the fire as well, feeling a sense of vindictive 
satisfaction as they curled and blackened. Then She walked back 
into the house and stood in front of the mirror. 


Solomon Kidd looked back at Her. She frowned as She noticed a 
slight imperfection in the shape of his eyes, then fixed it with a small 
exertion of will. She would have to practice walking, She realized, in 
order to get just enough arrogance and braggadocio into all Her 
movements. 


Then She went upstairs to his office, took the small post-it from the 
back of his monitor, and used the username and password written 
there to log on to his account. She spent the rest of the afternoon 
reading through his emails and correspondence, learning how to 
become Solomon Kidd. 


It was shortly after the sun had set that She read one that made Her 
smile. 


Re: Stepping Sideways 
From: ten.srerednaw\yttikssim#ten.srerednaw\yttikssim 
To: ten.noitandnimeerf|loS#ten.noitandnimeerflloS 


I'll help you on this, but just this once. After this, you're 
on your own. Come by the Library and I'll show you how 
to use the Ways. 


Midnight 


Tunneling Between Worlds 


Re: Dinner? 
From: ten.srerednaw\yttikssim#ten.srerednawlyttikssim 
To: ten.noitandnimeerf|loS#ten.noitandnimeerflloS 


I'll be there. 
Midnight 


Subject: Dinner? 

From: ten.noitandnimeerf| 
loS#ten.noitandnimeerf|loS 

To: ten.srerednawlyttikssim#ten.srerednaw| 
yttikssim 


Midnight, 


It has been a while since we conversed. | 
know we've had our differences (as all great 
minds do), but | would appreciate it if you gave 
me an opportunity to try and smooth things 
out. | would like you to come down to the 
estate and have dinner. | will provide food. You 
will provide the company. 


Sol 


She... no... Solomon Kidd... looked at Her... at his... reflection in 
the mirror and smiled. It was amazing how much difference a haircut 
and a change of clothes made. Not that it had been easy finding a 
good set of clothes in Sol's closet: the man's tastes ran to colors so 
eye-searing that Picasso and Warhol would have told him to take 
things down a notch. 


"Sol" took a deep breath and looked around the dining room one 
more time. Lights low: check. Roses on the table: check. Subtle 


hints of perfume here and there: check. Low, romantic, violin music: 
check. Whoever this "Midnight" was, she was going to be charmed 
like she'd never been charmed before. 


She did indulge Herself in one regard: the main dish.