During the spring and summer of 2002, the leader of the OTC, no stranger to deception, began to secretly plan her own impending mission. No matter how well-intentioned the Cybersybils might be, the final show-down would be between the White Popess and Estella Themis, a fight between light and true darkness from which the Lady of the Lake might not escape unscathed. She was not afraid of the likes of Sobek or Anubis; however, the human puppet crafted by the Thems did cause the intrepid lady concern.

"Well as Joan of Arc said, I tell my troops: Go boldly in among the English! - and then I go boldly in myself." LOL mused with a wry smile as she folded a red cashmere v-neck in preparation for future travel. Yes, there would be a battle soon, and the Autumn Equinox 2002 most probably the auspicious date that would mark the throwing of a cosmic light gauntlet down into the void belly of a darkening abyss.

Back on the East Coast, Olivia and Domenico found themselves packing, as well - yet, not suitcases but rather carboard boxes for an upcoming move necessitated by Duke's acceptance of a contract offered him by a small, prestigious New York city opera company (Winter 2003 European Tour not optional). The soon-to-be ex-Salemites wrapped valuables in paper, sad to be leaving their cozy home of only seven months, although a lovely new house on the sea beckoned - a turn-of-the-century Arts and Craft's manse abutting shore, waves and a spooky Victorian cemetary - situated not far from the City of Liberty's dreams.

As Olivia cleaned out a closet, she came upon her old childhood guitar, an instrument Posh had purchased long ago while studying one summer in Spain. Sitting on the floor, she lovingly began to strum, then sing the words of an old Jim Corce ballad that caused her fiancé to stop his grumbling about never moving again and listen:


...Cause tables are meant for turnin'
And people are bound to change
And bridges are meant for burnin'
When the people and mem'ries they join aren't the same

So I'll hope that you can find
Another who can take what I could not
She'll have to be a super girl
Or maybe a super god
Cause I never was much of a martyr before
And I ain't 'bout to start nothin' new
And baby, I can't hang upon no lover's cross for you


The unintentional serenade to Trust Lost was followed by tears cascading across, ironically enough, polished Spanish rosewood.

"Gods, I hate him," Olivia cried, looking away. "He is such a piece of...and now that the bank repossessed the car as I asked, how am I ever going to get that ugly thing from LA to New York? What a mess."

"Shhh," Duke soothed. "He isn't worth hating, Liv. We'll get the car back, don't fret - hey, we're not exactly talking about retrieving secret scrolls here, are we?" he laughed, although inwardly the outraged man wished he was bound for LAX at that very moment, for the sole purpose of human heyena hunting.

"I just don't understand why every time I try to help someone, they screw me over."

"Stop helping losers," Domenico grinned. "Forget it - we have each other, that's more important. Here, give me the guitar, I need to sing you a song."

Lyrics and notes of alchemical poetry, first made popular by the great Andrea Bocelli, soon issued in Italian from the man of Mandurian stock.

"No, stop, please," Olivia responded, fresh tears appearing on her flushed cheeks. "Yes, it is time to say good-bye - to this house, to a town I love...to the...past...stop, I can't hear it right now - you're breaking my heart."






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