Author's Note: Even though this story has a beginning, middle, and end, it's still in draft form. Beta Wendy Kelley thought it needed more description to go with the dialogue. (I haven't found Beta Kyrie Daniels' comments for this draft yet.) This is a modified draft 3 of this story.

The layout for this cemetery is based on Sacramento's historical City Cemetery. In fact, I think it's a pretty accurate version of it. The place that Hanna hides behind in this story is the same place Melinda teleports into in "Mistakes".

Woeful Times
by Selma McCrory
copyright 2000

He didn't think he'd make it. Not with Hanna on his trail and his sword in an alley half a dozen blocks behind.

Richie noted the gates of the sprawling cemetery with relief. He swung along the curve of the cement roadway, hoping to put some distance between him and Hanna. He kept running and running, but he didn't lose the sensation of Hanna's presence. He was also out of breath. No place better to lose it than holy ground. He only hoped she respected it.

"There you are, Ryan!"

Or perhaps not. "This is holy ground, Hanna," he said patiently.

"Holy ground is a myth," his opponent responded gleefully. She was a good opponent, if only slightly older than him. And rather disrespectful of the niceties, as he had maybe once been. He wondered if her teacher had ever taught her anything.

"It isn't," he said patiently. Compared to her, he felt wiser.

"Let's see," she said gleefully. He flinched as she swung her sword on empty air, and made for behind one of the grave markers. Fortunately for him, this city must have had floods or something, for all the plots were raised two or three feet in height. It made playing cat and mouse very interesting. She swung at the marker, cutting the fragile stone in half. "See, nothing's happened yet!"

Richie fought to retain his composure. "I don't think gravestones count, Hanna."

"Maybe you're right," his opponent replied. And the chase was on again, this time among rows of orderly raised rectangular plots, trees, landscaping, and other things that Richie might have paid attention to if he wasn't intent on survival.

"Hey!" another voice called from nearby. Richie never thought he'd be grateful for mortal interference. Angry mortal interference, but interference nonetheless. Hanna stopped too, and Richie realized that even she knew to keep the Game from mortal eyes.

"I'll find you later, Ryan," she hissed. As Hanna was racing off, Richie turned to greet his rescuer. He was confronted with a young woman a couple of years older than his apparent age. She was probably of African heritage. He saw that she was wearing a denim dress with her hands on her hips.

"What the heck is going on here?" she said firmly. She, unexpectedly, had some form of an Australian accent. Not common for California. He wondered what she was doing there.

"You just saved my life," he replied gratefully.

"Yeah, I can see that," she responded wryly. Richie watched her as she surveyed the damage and mumbled under her breath. Then she reached a device on her belt and started speaking into it. "Tom? Melinda. You're not going to believe this..."

* * *

"This looks bad," the old man said. He'd arrived a minute or two after the girl had called. "What happened?"

The girl shrugged. "Looked like this woman was cutting down stones with some kind of machete or something."

"Tried to kill me," Richie added.

"All right, I've called the police. Woman, huh? Not our usual vandal."

"I think I would have been able to recognize a teenage boy," the girl replied tightly.

"I know, Melinda. I'd be interested to find out why this happened," the old man said to her. "Why this woman was trying to kill- what's your name son?"

"Richard Alexander," Richie replied. "I don't know. She threatened to kill me, I ran, she ended up here. I'm sorry about the stones."

Melinda grumbled. Tom patted her on the arm. "I've called the police."

* * *

He'd been sitting there for a good half hour. Police procedure hadn't changed in some sixty years. He'd described Hanna twice, explained about his flight three times, and had to watch the police look for evidence and talk over decapitated headstones in the meantime. The good side was that he'd learned the names and occupations of the two cemetery workers. The old man was Tom Overton, caretaker, coordinator, and one of two actual employees at the cemetery. The young woman was Melinda Skye, some sort of volunteer. "You know, your accent's gone," he said to Melinda, who had sat down and was watching the proceedings with a rather bored expression. Somewhere along the way she'd started talking in an earnest American one.

"Yeah, I think I noticed," the young woman said sharply. "It happens."

"Wandering accent, huh?"

"I've heard it called that," Melinda replied neutrally. Her tone discouraged any further conversation, and Richie shut up. One police officer came over to him with a graphics display. He looked over to see a mug shot of Hanna.

"That's her," he said. The officer nodded, and started making a report to the station.

"I'd still like to know why she'd try to kill this young man, and why she'd destroy the markers," Tom said.

"She's crazy," Richie told him. "I didn't do a thing to offend her, yet she tried to kill me!"

"Who is this lady?" Tom asked the officer.

"If Mr. Alexander's description is right, she's suspected of several murders. Decapitations."

"You mean the ones on the news?" Tom asked. The officer nodded, and then moved away.

Richie felt Tom's gaze. "I'm sorry this happened," he said.

"It's not your fault," Tom replied. "Some people...you're never sure what's going through their minds."

"Sometimes you are," Melinda said quietly. One of the detectives took Tom aside and Richie was stuck with a silent Melinda. But, thankfully, Tom soon returned with the detective.

Tom looked at the two. "Everybody's being evacuated, including us," he said. "Detective Georgeson's going to escort the two of you out. Melinda, did Marm come by to see you?"

Melinda sat there thoughtfully for a minute, and then replied. "No, he's at my house."

"That's good," Tom said. "One less to worry about."

"I wouldn't be worried about him anyway," Melinda said with a hint of a smile. "He knows how to get out of trouble."

"Not this kind of trouble," Tom said.

"You'd be surprised," Melinda replied, with a definite smile this time.

The detective nodded. "Shall we go?"

* * *

"So, how's your family?" Detective Georgeson asked Melinda.

"Oh, they're fine."

"I would have thought that they'd had a heart attack from the last time you ran across this."

Melinda shrugged. "They, at least, know that I know how to get out of trouble," she replied.

"Excuse me, 'last time'?" Richie asked.

Detective Georgeson smiled and replied. "Your rescuer here tried to run a bunch of kids off that were spraypainting some of the older stones."

Melinda shrugged. "It was just a bunch of scared kids."

"You were lucky it wasn't someone worse. I hear that you're not a fighter."

Melinda glared at the detective."I'm a pacifist. I can't kill. I don't like violence. That doesn't mean that I don't know about other kinds of fighting."

Richie, feeling left out of the conversation, decided he'd never want to come up against Melinda. It was enough being semi-responsible for Hanna and the stones. The detective shrugged. "Do you have a ride?"

"I called my sister. She was in the basement at home, so she might take a moment or two to get over here."

"She was the kid with your parents who was babbling about physics and some bridge of some kind?" Melinda grinned. "That's her. Right now, she's trying to invent a time machine in the basement. Last year, she was trying for interdimensional travel. That's what the stuff about the bridge was." Richie noticed the detective's sympathetic rolling of the eyes. Obviously, every family had to have a crackpot inventor. "We hope she'll be into something useful by next year."

"Yeah, that's how some people are," the detective replied. "I had an uncle that was that way." "She got it from our grandfather," Melinda said.

The detective and Melinda were still walking towards the exit, gabbing about Melinda's crazy sister. Richie found himself pacing back of them, wondering if his opponent would show up again. Richie stopped abruptly, the humming impact of another Immortal's arrival to his senses. The two looked at him, with the detective wearing a confused expression, and Melinda looking like she wanted to hide.

"I think I heard something," he said.

The detective nodded and pointed to some of the plots on the hill nearby. "I'll radio in. You two get under cover."

Melinda was already diving for cover behind a raised plot. Richie followed, hoping he could find Hanna before she decided to try killing mortals on holy ground. He looked around, but did not spot her. Nearby, Detective Georgeson was speaking into a communicator and edging along the road with his gun drawn. Richie started edging in the opposite direction, noting that Melinda was still hiding and keeping track of the detective. Richie was sure he had located Hanna when he heard the scream, which even he couldn't be sure belonged to a man or a woman. A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped. He had his hand in his coat before he remembered that he no longer had his sword. He swung around to see Melinda looking at him warily. "Don't do that," he hissed.

"Sorry," she replied. "I think Detective Georgeson is dead. Or hurt rather badly." He looked at her. Her face had turned several shades paler. Like a lot of people, she was probably not used to death. She probably wasn't used to horror movies, either.

"We'll have to draw her away," he said quietly. One just didn't kill people, mortal or Immortal, on Holy Ground. He was shocked by Hanna's behaviour.

"Us?"

"Yeah, unless you want to become sushi," Richie said. He wondered if he was just dreaming. It seemed like he was in some weird horror movie.

"There are lots of places to hide here. Besides, I'm mortal. She can't detect me."

"I'm sure there are lots of places-" Richie replied. Then something hit him. "Mortals? Detect? You know about us?"

"Yeah," Melinda said, looking a bit uncomfortable. "One of you's been friends with my family for ages. That's how I know."

"Ah," Richie said. He relaxed slightly, because Immortals weren't apt to make friends with families with a lot of Watchers in them. "Sorry."

Melinda shrugged. "That's okay, I know how it is. She's a bit paranoid as well."

Richie nodded. "So, do you know where I might get something to fight with?"

"You don't have your sword?"

"Hanna divested me of it."

"Oh, dear," Melinda replied. "Uh, there's the tools for the sheriff's work crew. They're in a shed in the back, locked up. There are also some loose bricks on the plots, there always are. In fact, they might be better, if you're just trying to trap her. You're not planning to kill her."

He shot her a look. "No."

"Good. I don't like killing."

"So," Richie said, painfully aware that there was another Immortal not too far away, "where is this shed?"

"Um, straight back from where we are," Melinda said thoughtfully. "Through the old Odd Fellows plot, and down the path."

"Any cover?" Richie asked, trying to gain the pertinent information from the girl fast. She shook her head. "Not once you reach the Odd Fellows' plot."

"Okay, let's get over there," Richie replied.

* * *

Richie followed Melinda as she snuck between a set of plots. "How'd you get so good at sneaking around?" he asked.

"Sis and I used to play hide and go seek up here," Melinda said absently. "Then, I discovered this was a terrific place to do my homework."

"Oh," he said. "Didn't it ever bother you?"

She turned around, looking slightly bewildered. "Why? It's not as if the occupants are going to bother me. Not a lot of people go up here. Not a lot of people visit this place if they don't have to."

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Richie said. He'd never run into someone as interested in cemeteries as she was. Nobody mortal, anyway.

"Hm? I don't know. I haven't seen one yet. Have you?"

"No," he replied. To change the subject, he said, "How much further?"

"Not much," Melinda replied. "See the concrete ahead? That'll lead you right to the shed. It's that red brick building."

Richie looked where she was pointing. "I see it. You're right, that's not very much cover. Not even the brick."

"Yeah, it's practically one plot into another. You want to hide, that's not the place to do it."

"Why's everything so raised, anyway?"

"I'm not sure," Melinda replied. "Might be because of the floods. I don't care, it's a great place to play." Richie was thankful that she had. Melinda stopped in front of him. "We're at Odd Fellows," she said, getting up on the concrete of a nearby plot. "You can go on straight from here."

"You and I need to stick together," Richie said, looking at the girl. "You'll be safer that way. Hanna's just crazy enough to do the unexpected, and I don't want any more deaths here."

"Because it's Holy Ground. Because you guys don't kill here," Melinda said softly. "I know your rules. I'd bet your Hanna could never find me. I'd be out of here before she'd have a chance."

Richie rolled his eyes. "Mortals."

Melinda grinned. "Immortals. Believe it or not, sometimes we mortals can take care of ourselves."

Richie sighed, shaking his head, and looked ahead. "Yeah, and your friend may have been killed back there. You'd think a cop could take care of himself!"

"He doesn't know this place as well as I do. I know all the rough spots, where they put the hoses, where the loose bricks are, and where to hide. She's not going to get me. You, on the other hand..." Richie realized that he wasn't going to win this argument.

"Okay." He turned to go, but Melinda stopped him. She pointed down.

"There's a drop here."

"Oh," he said, looking over the edge. He leaped down. "Be careful, okay?"

"Don't let her whack any more stones, will you?"

"Yeah," Richie said. He watched her melt away, and then looked around. She was right, there wasn't much cover in the next plot. The stones were either small or thin. Not much cover. Just as Melinda had said. He weaved slowly through the area. He could still feel Hanna, so she couldn't be that far behind. He hoped he'd done the right thing in leaving Melinda behind. Not only did she know more about the cemetery than he did, he still wasn't completely convinced that she could escape Hanna's clutches.

"Ryan!"

He froze and swore. Hanna came from around a nearby tomb. One of the big ones that was almost a room. She was off to his right, and the path to the back was to the left. He knew he had to keep her busy. He couldn't believe that he was helping the police catch another Immortal. It wasn't part of the Game.

She swung at him. He fell back, colliding with the wall of a plot. He felt behind him. It was one of the brick ones. He fingered the wall desperately, hoping that he would run across a loose brick. His hand finally came across one, and he pulled it out, blessing the people who hadn't repaired the plot yet. Hanna sneered at him as he hefted the brick. He tossed it towards her, but it only glanced off her leg and shattered on the ground. She backed up, brandishing her sword. "Where's your little girlfriend?"

Richie refused to respond to her taunt, but became increasingly worried as she backed up towards the hill where Melinda was hiding. "Don't even bother," he said, trying to remain cool. He hoped Melinda wasn't just boasting. The sun reflected off of Hanna's sword for a moment, causing him to blink. He ran off after her, hoping to attract her attention and draw her away from Melinda's hiding place. Hanna advanced towards him again, smiling maliciously.

"Thought I'd draw you out by threatening her." Richie growled. He knew she was trying to taunt him and provoke him into doing something foolish. He knew better. She wasn't going to take *his* head. Even weaponless, he knew how to fight. "She knows how to take care of herself," he informed her. Hanna was still advancing, and Richie obligingly backed up. If worst came to worst, there had to be a weapon somewhere. A brick, a piece of loose stone, or even a hose. He backed up along the path... And saw his rescuers. Actually, he wouldn't normally consider the police that, but sometimes they had to use mortal justice. He imagined the cops wouldn't be too happy, with Hanna killing one of their own.

"Put the weapon down!" An officer to the left of the two of them yelled at Hanna.

"Wanna make the Game a public spectacle, Hanna?" Richie asked her quietly.

"No, but I can sure make your death one!" Hanna announced. She advanced towards him, evidently trying to kill him in a way that wouldn't be fatal to him. At least not at that moment. The policeman shouted his warning twice again as Hanna keept swinging at Richie.

The police officer hanging out of the vehicle fired a shot at Hanna. It hit her shoulder, and she turned around to confront them. Richie took a chance and rushed her from behind. She was unprepared for his tackle, and they both fell on the ground, her sword clattering out of reach. Richie got up as the two officers got out of the car. The dazed Immortal was handcuffed and read her rights, although the police didn't seem too happy about doing it.

"Are you all right?" the older officer asked.

"Yeah, I thought she was going to run me through for sure," he said, trying to seem grateful. "Thanks for coming when you did."

She smiled grimly. "You're welcome. And next time, don't try a stunt like that. You could have been hurt. You should leave that to us."

"Next time, I think I will," Richie responded. Of course, he thought, next time he'd have his sword. And be off holy ground. "Be grateful that someone called this in."

"They did?" Richie said, surprised.

"I did," Melinda said, jogging up from behind. "You needed help."

"Thanks," he said. At that moment, he decided she couldn't be a Watcher. They wouldn't phone in a duel to the police. No, she was just a regular person. He smiled and said, "Where were you?"

Melinda pointed to a section of the cemetery near the fence. "I went behind that monument back there," she said.

"You weren't kidding," Richie replied. If he'd thought of it, he'd have run there, too.

"I told you I can take care of myself," Melinda replied sweetly. She turned to the officer. "How's detective Georgeson?"

"He was hurt, but he'll be fine," the officer replied. "They just took him to hospital."

"Good," Melinda replied. "That's what I needed to know."

"Sorry about the brick," Richie said apologetically to Melinda.

"That's okay. It can be replaced," Melinda said. "You couldn't."

"Yeah," Richie said. "Yeah."

-end