Zoe sat at her desk, notebook before her. On it was drawn a crude map of the area, with a circle representing the end to her lord's domain. She stared at it. How could her master, the most powerful of the Dark Lords, be reduced to a domain of 31,400 Square Miles? She wondered if this had anything to do with Miss Amazing's Nemeses.
"Hey, anyone see my bookend? Mom? Dad? Zoe?" Jon's voice poured through the house. Zoe idly waved her hand and levitated the magic "bookend" and her other magic supplies into a lockbox, which was then floated deep under her bed. So Jon finally noticed its absence.
"Your what?" Zoe called out.
"My bookend," Jon said again, this time poking his head into Zoe's room. "It's a green cube with blue stripes. Seen it?"
Zoe shook her head. Jon, dismayed, began to back out of her room before he remembered something, "Hey, don't you have cheerleading practice today?"
Again, Zoe shook her head. "It was cancelled." Jon nodded and left and closed the door. Cheerleading practice; the very thought of it made Zoe throw up a little, but her parents threw a fit when she started down her path of witchcraft. They wanted her to be "normal." After much tribulation, Zoe gave in and crafted an alter ego for herself, that of a bubbly teen cheerleader. Truth be told, some of the girls weren't as dumb as they let on, but by and large . . .
Alter ego. The word stuck in Zoe's mind. Mazinga, Lady Tiger, Doctor Centipede were aliases and each one of them had real names and lives. If those alter egos existed, was there a way to "activate" their seemingly forgotten criminal halves? Zoe had a feeling that all she would have to do is lure one to within a hundred miles. . .
The Lord of Terror was afraid. He could barely admit it to himself, but it was the truth. He was weakened to a small portion of the Earth. It was barely enough to contain him. And now even his most loyal slave ignored and disobeyed him. He watched through his scrying pool how she looked through newspaper clippings of Miss Amazing. Why was she so infatuated with that blasted superheroine? The Lord of Terror was tired of it. Perhaps it was time to teach his slave obedience . . .
Jon and Karyn watched TV. They had made cursory checks of the house, but the chess match earlier today had worn both heroes out. Karyn lay against Jon as they watched the newscast about The Queen's game. They both hoped that their heroics were over for the time being . . .
