Jacob landed lightly on the roof of an apartment building and walked to the edge, unconsciously folding his wings in behind him.  He could feel the night approaching as he watched the shadows lengthen in the growing dusk.  He could feel the sun slipping away, soon to be replaced by the icy fingers of darkness and the gripping chill of despair.

He looked out at the streets and neighborhoods from his perch atop the building.  The area which he surveyed consisted of run-down buildings, dirty streets, and unkept apartments.  The odor of broken dreams was almost palpable.  He looked down at the street below; children still played in the vanishing light, a woman worn with time shouted greetings of hello to another
time-etched woman and as she did the weariness lifted from her face; Jacob judged them both to be in their mid-forties.  A few blocks north, Jacob noted, the street-walkers were already beginning to come out for the night.

Life was hard here, but not without its joys.  Many times the happiness of these people would put to shame any high society party; then again, so would their sorrows.  Jacob straightened, taking in the wider scene.  These people, who survived through the worst society could give them, Jacob respected far more than any high-priced lawyer or Supreme Court Justice.  It was his parents mission to make life better for those less fortunate, a mission instilled in Jacob himself.  Jacob saw them as his people in a way the upper or middle-class never could be.  Jacob paused in thought, checking himself.  They were not his, rather, he was theirs.

Jacob walked to the other side of the roof, surveying the streets.  Something odd caught his eye, a relatively new BMW was parking a couple of blocks away.  The door to the car opened and out came a woman, he guessed in her early 40s, dressed in all the right clothes and with a hair style to match.  Her appearance screamed "suburbanite."

She walked down half a block to the corner of a street and disappeared behind a building.  Jacob guessed she was probably heading towards a used book store a block or two away that was supposed to be fairly good.  But she had left her car completely alone, and completely out of her sight; a prime target for anybody looking for a quick score.  Even if she did have an alarm system, she was too far away to hear it, and no one around the car would pay it much heed.  Jacob shook his head; whatever happened to the car, it was her own fault.

As Jacob turned away he caught sight of three young people walking towards the parked car.  It was their tentativeness and furtive glances around the street that suggested their intentions might not be completely honourable.  Jacob turned his gaze back to the scene.  The car he couldn't care less about, but he did care that these young people didn't wind up in jail.  If he
could prevent that he would.

Jacob studied the young men, focusing on their faces at a distance beyond normal human abilities.  Judging from their expressions, two of the three probably had little experience in this kind of thing; their faces betraying their anxiety and uncertainty.  The third one was harder to read.  From his gestures and eyes it was clear that he was the one leading them along, but
whether this was old hat for him or not Jacob couldn't tell.

The three youths moved closer to the car.  Jacob unfurled his wings and crouched on the roof ledge, preparing for action.  Jacob had no idea whether or not the three might have weapons or what he might be getting himself into; he licked his lips, focusing on the scene.  As the two anxious ones flanked the third young man, Jacob caught a flash of metal being pulled out of the
third man's jacket.

Jacob launched himself from his perch, flying high and fast to arrive above the scene.  As the metal bar did its job and the young man reached for the door, Jacob plummeted to the ground in a rush of air, feathers and light.  The two anxious fellows, one a shorter Italian-looking individual, the other of average height, had a few moments warning of Jacob's rush and quickly
scrambled away from the car.  The third, a taller fellow, well-built with somewhat angular features, was completely caught off guard, throwing himself against the BMW as he clutched the piece of metal in front of him as a weapon.

"Mary, mother of God!" the shorter Italian exclaimed, crossing himself.  Jacob noted this but still kept his eye on the taller individual in front of him.  Jacob stared at the taller man, trying to pick up clues as to the man's emotional state.  He had little experience in these situations on which to base any views, so he relied instead on the finally honed instincts of thousands of years of human evolution.  The taller man seemed scared, but settled, he had even dropped the metal bar a few inches lower.

With the initial threat of violence hopefully gone, Jacob turned his attention to the man who spoke.  Judging from the fact that the young man appeared to be of Italian background and, Jacob now noted, sported a crucifix around his neck, in addition to his uniquely Catholic outburst, Jacob hoped he also had some sort of Catholic background.  With this information, Jacob shifted into a fairly standard routine he had been developing to deal with these minor offences.

First, judge if someone might be religious or not.  One of the two men, the third had somehow slipped away when Jacob first landed, appeared to be Catholic while he was unsure as to the other.  Next was to play to any image that the person might have.  Jacob turned, focusing his attention completely on the smaller man, hoping his instincts were right and the other wouldn't
use this opportunity to stab him in the back.  He straightened and relaxed the muscles that held his wings close to his body.  Radiating light, Jacob spoke.

"What are you doing here young one?" Jacob questioned in a measured tone, hoping he conveyed equal measures of strength and compassion, with a hint of knowingness.  He had practiced this kind of opening many times to himself, had even used it on others, but still wasn't sure of its effect on other people.

It was the taller one who spoke first.  "Mind your own business!  He just left the keys in the car and I was just helping him get them.  Now why don't you--"

"Shut up, Matt!  I don't know what this is, and you sure as hell don't either, but I got an idea what it might be," the shorter Italian replied, a quiver in his voice.

This was the kind of answer Jacob was looking for, he moved into the next phase of the routine.  He stared into the shorter man's eyes, holding them, then refocusing his eyes to a few inches behind the shorter man's face.  Jacob's expression was stern, attempting to portray himself as burrowing into the others soul, exposing any secrets.  He did this for a few moments, and then turned his expression into a lighter one, a slight knowing smile crossing his face.

"This was not how you were raised was it?" Jacob waited and received a hint of acknowledgment of the statement before continuing.  "Would she want you doing this?  You, who have so much else to give."

This as well was a safe choice, though Jacob knew not a full-proof one; most people, men especially he assumed, had a soft spot for some woman who had made them feel special in their lives.  He hoped his assumption wasn't off in this case.  The young man's quivering jaw and reflexive clutching at the crucifix around his neck, only made Jacob's job that much easier.

He continued in a softer voice, barely above a whisper.  "She's waiting for you, worried, wondering where you are, afraid of what you might be doing.  Why don't you go to her now.  In the time remaining, together, things can begin to change."

The moment was broken by the fellow named Matt's laugh.  "You can't be serious, you can't believe him.  He's just another meta playing up appearances; nothin' special."

Jacob watched the smaller man for a few moments longer; the man was shaking, his eyes haunted.  He had accomplished what he needed to with this one, the turned his attention to Matt.  Matt seemed belligerent; that was fine, Jacob had a routine for that as well.

The softness in Jacob's expression exited, leaving behind sternness and a touch of anger.  The thin metal bar Matt had held had been replaced with a knife.  Jacob took a step towards Matt, coming almost within reach of the knife.  Before Matt could crouch down in a defensive posture, Jacob's hand whipped out, slapping away the knife as if it was a toy.  Taking away any base advantages was the first step, basic intimidation was the second.

Matt was tall, probably almost 6'4".  Jacob was taller, towering over a man of even this height.  Jacob quickly moved in close, shattering any semblance of personal space.  Spreading his wings out to either side of Matt, Jacob effectively surrounded him.  Now was the time to speak, simple and to the point.

In reply to Matt's statement, Jacob said simply; "But what if I am?"  Jacob held his blink a moment longer than normal, shifting his eyes into the infra-red spectrum.  His pupils turned from black to red as his eyes sought different wavelengths of light.  It was a cheap parlor trick, but one that was difficult to quickly and rationally assimilate for the average person.

Jacob knew this was the most vulnerable time; by bringing himself so close, he opened himself up to attack.  Still, if he could end this situation with as little violence as possible, he would.  Jacob continued, bringing his face scant centimeters away from Matt's.  "Wanna wager your soul I'm not?"

Jacob dropped down to whisper into Matt ear, his voice full of malevolence. "Come on, I'm itching for a good fight."  Matt swallowed hard.  Jacob noticed this and knew he had him.

Retracting his wings away from Matt's sides and returning his eyes back to catch visible light, he moved to stand between the two young men and the car.  Time to put the finishing touches on this scene, Jacob thought.  "Leave here now, no harm was done.  Go, spend what little time you have left with those you love; make it worthwhile."

"Hey, what are you doing with my car?!" came a voice from behind Jacob.

The two young men needed no extra prodding to flee down the street and around a corner.  Jacob heard the woman as she ran towards himself and her car.

"Stop them!  Thieves!  Somebody!"  The woman stopped behind Jacob, then he felt a slight slug as her purse crashed into his back.  "Why didn't you stop them, you jerk!  I thought its what people like you did; save innocent people from the likes of them."

"No harm was done here; you have your car and everything in it," Jacob replied controlling his anger.

"No harm was done; they tried to steal my car!  They're criminals and should be locked up.  I'm phoning the police." the woman angrily retorted, as Jacob heard sounds of rummaging from behind him, through what he assumed was a purse.

Jacob's jaw clenched as he turned halfway, looking at a car that probably cost more than what most of the people in this area made in three or four years of working hard.  A verse jumped unbidden into his mind: "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone."

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" questioned the woman.

"It means no harm was done," Jacob said to the woman, "no crime committed."  His constant aura of light was stronger than usual, with wisps of red and orange whipping around him.  "It means, if you phone and try to throw that rock, my wings are large enough to prevent it from hitting the innocent.  But, if you look within, see where you have gone... wrong," Jacob glanced towards the BMW, "and seek to set it right, then I and the one I serve will walk beside you.  The choice is yours, I pray that you chose well."

With a final stern stare directed towards the woman, Jacob spread his wings and hurled himself into the sky.  What had been the woman's expression, Jacob wondered as he flew absently back in the direction of the apartment building from where he started.  There was surprise, that was sure.  He doubted she had expected the tables to be turned, for her to be the one accused of wrong-doing.  And, as so frequently it seemed, there was awe, but beyond that Jacob was unsure.

Jacob landed again on the apartment roof and glanced back towards the woman and her BMW.  Under the recently turned on street lamps, Jacob could see the woman leaning against her car, talking into her cell phone.  Had she phoned the police after all?  He doubted it, something about her expression, it seemed too excited and less angry for the call to be to the police.

Jacob shook his head and looked away.  He wondered where his anger towards the woman had come from, where the words had flown from.  Jacob had seen out of the corner of his eye the angry streaks of red that had swum within the light that was his constant companion.  Before all this, before his change, he had rarely gotten angry; but now, it seemed he had to struggle all too frequently to hold himself in.  Jacob sighed, releasing the tension within himself.  Lost in his thoughts, a furred intruder approached Jacob from behind.

Shortly before the creature reached its target, Jacob could almost sense imperceptibly soft footfalls approaching from behind.  As the creature prepared to leap, Jacob momentarily turned his head and glanced behind.  He returned his gaze back towards the streets as he steeled himself for the encounter that was to come.

"Evening Cat," Jacob said in acknowledgment of the sleek, black cat as it launched itself onto the ledge which Jacob leaned against.

"Good evening, monsieur," came an oddly French-accented reply from the Cat, who then  proceeded to wash its paws and face.  The Cat continued conversationally.  "It is turning into a beautiful night, non?"

"Yeah, woohoo," Jacob absently replied, staring out into the growing darkness.

"And how about you?  Was it a beautiful day to match the beautiful sunset which you could be watching, instead of staring out into nothingness?" the Cat said, concern in her voice.

Jacob startled himself back into the present, shaking his head to remove the cobwebs of uncertainty in his own mind.  "I don't know.  I seem to be saying that a lot now, but . . ."

The Cat sensed the apprehension in Jacob's words, as well as part of the reason for it.  "You did the right thing.  You showed those two young men compassion and gave them an example of another way to live."

A gruff voice came from behind Jacob.  "Yeah, all they need now are wings and a strange glow and they could do anything; be all they could be."   He didn't need to turn around to know that the voice belonged to a golden retriever that seemed almost an ever-present companion to the black cat beside him.

The Cat stared back scornfully at the Dog.  "Just because you don't understand forgiveness and compassion does not mean others are unaffected by its amazing gifts."

"Amazing gifts my furry gold butt.  They don't mean a damn if people don't care about them,"  the Dog replied, trotting over to sit on the right-hand side of Jacob, opposite the Cat.  "Maybe if you lived in the world now and then Blackie you might know that."

The Dog turned his attention to Jacob.  "You should have stopped them while you had the chance.  However which way you want to look at it, they're criminals it's in their blood; you might have stopped them now, but they'll just do something else, sometime when you're not around, probably something a lot worse than stealing a car.  You want to do something good for others, you put people like that down hard.  That way, as they're lying in the prison
infirmary, they'll know what kind of consequences they'll have to pay for their actions.  Besides, it's kind of hard to commit crimes when you're eating out of a tube for the rest of your life."

"And what about turning the other cheek, hmm, have you--" the Cat said before being cut-off by the Dog.

"Your words, Cat, not mine -- your world, not mine!"

As the war of words between the Cat and Dog continued, they didn't notice that Jacob was no longer with them.  He was with them physically, but mentally he was elsewhere.  Had he done the right thing?  Maybe, maybe not, it didn't seem to much matter now as the events had already happened.

Jacob was more concerned with another question, a question someone had asked a few weeks ago, but Jacob had been unable to respond to; who, or what, was he?  Ever since the encounter in the bank, that question was seldom far from his thoughts.  The attempted car theft brought that question to the fore again.  How had the people seen him?  When they looked at him, what did they see?

It was more than likely they each had seen what they had wanted to see; to Matt, he was probably nothing but a do-gooder meta; the woman he wasn't sure about; but to the other young man -- had he changed that young man's life by his actions?  Jacob guessed he would never find out, and maybe that was for the best.  But still, that did not answer the underlying question of what he was.

"What am I?" Jacob asked simply, stopping the near-yelling match that was developing between the Cat and Dog.

"What?" they replied, almost in unison.

"What am I?  I mean, what have I become?"  Jacob repeated.

Silence followed and Jacob felt a need to fill it, so he continued, taking a few steps back to address both the Cat and Dog.  "I know some things.  I had to pull in pretty much all my favors from the biology department but...  I did find out a few things.  I know my blood tests after all this happened were identical to tests I took three months before.  I know at the DNA level
nothing has changed.  What's more, I know there aren't any kind of recognizable flags in my DNA for any of the things I can do now.  But the kicker, the genetic structure of my wings isn't even human; 68 chromosomes compared to 46.  And even the composition of those chromosomes, is unlike anything I've ever heard of.  So I gotta ask: what am I?"

The Cat and Dog exchanged glances.  It was the Dog who answered, as if by silent agreement, in a softer tone than Jacob had ever heard from him before.  "We can't tell you."

"What?  What do you mean you can't tell me?" Jacob replied, surprised.

"I'm sorry, but he's right.  It's part of an agreement the," the Cat paused, searching for the right words, "parties involved made."

"I seem to be one of the parties here, but I don't remember any agreement," Jacob responded, annoyance threatening to be replaced by anger.

It was the Dog's turn again.  "We decided we couldn't tell you, because that knowledge might sway you to one side or the other."

"Unlike many in this mortal life, you have to understand the choices you make will be of crucial importance.  What happened to you..."  The Cat paused, turning to look into the eyes of the Dog as if in private consultation with him.  "You are right, I cannot tell him that.  What I can say is that the ultimate choices you face, might not be what you expect."

Jacob's jaw tightened.  "You know, if I didn't know it would be useless, that you'd just reappear later, I'd probably be trying to snap your little necks right about now, consequences be damned."

The Dog leaned in the direction of the Cat.  "Alright, looks like my sides winning."

The tension-breaker did its job, Jacob smiled.  "Oh, shut up Ye-Who-Licks-His-Own- Genitals-Clean."  Jacob needed time to process this new bit of information.  Both the Dog and the Cat seemed to sense this, both remaining quiet.  Jacob walked back over to the roof ledge and looked down.

Below, a news van had pulled up and someone was talking to the owner of the BMW as she was pointing up to the roof where Jacob was.  She looked up and caught sight of Jacob, gesturing excitedly towards him.  Jacob ducked away from the ledge a few scant seconds before the cameraman's lens trained itself upwards.

Jacob sighed; the news media had been hounding him since he broke up the bank robbery attempt two weeks ago.  Lately, they had been getting even more persistent; last night he had found a news van parked outside the monastery where he had been staying.  He had thrown up a curtain of darkness to get in unnoticed, but it had bothered him.  Not only were they disrupting his life, but they were threatening to disrupt the lives of the Franciscan brothers.

Why did they have to be like that, Jacob wondered, destroying people's freedom and lives in the all-encompassing pursuit of some story; a story they would drop in an instant should a better one come along, caring not at all for the lives they shatter.  People like that, people who wallowed in the misery of others, deserved to feel the consequences of the pain they caused.
Jacob could feel his fists clinching, could feel the power flowing through them as the lights around him dimmed.  It would be so easy to send a lancing shot of light through the van, destroying it as a warning to others.

Jacob stopped, shaking his head and loosening his fists.  What was he thinking?  He couldn't do any of that, nor would he want to.  But it was the feeling of justification that truly frightened him; it was as if something inside of him was saying it was his right to act that way.  Sighing, Jacob
walked to the other side of the roof, the Cat and Dog having disappeared.  With thoughts like these, was his appearance truly angelic, or something else entirely.

Taking to the air, Jacob flew back towards the monastery.  Tomorrow he would leave town for awhile, he had already decided that.  Hopefully in the time he was away, the media would find new targets of interest.  Moreover, he needed time alone to think or, perhaps better, less time to think and more time to simply be.  The excitement of the dream of new possibilities brought a smile to Jacob face.  Perhaps he'd even head north to Churchill, Manitoba -- the polar bear capital of the world.  Hell, maybe he'd even get a chance to meet someone from Canadian Shield, he joked to himself.

Jacob watched as the sun came up across the water, dispelling the darkness of the sky and changing it into various shades of red, orange and gold.  Though it cost him a few hours of sleep, the sight before him was well worth it.  In fact, he could say that about his entire trip to Churchill.  He looked back over his shoulder toward the town, beginning to wake with the dawn.  He could make out shapes busying themselves with the new day.  Away from most of the activity, alone on a pier that jutted out into Hudson's Bay, Jacob soaked in the solitude.

His mind flowed over the last week; it had been wonderful.  While certainly colder than Toronto, the air had a crispness and cleanliness about it that Toronto's never could match.  The people here had been friendly, though he purposely hadn't shown his full winged visage to any one.  But alone, as he was this morning, he let his wings hang loose.  Perhaps, Jacob thought, what made it so wonderful was that he didn't spend much time in the company of anyone.  He woke up early and spent his days flying out on the tundra; chasing gyrfalcons, buzzing cariboo herds, and marveling at the size and majesty of the polar bears that made this region of the north their home.  Jacob sighed with contentment in the growing warmth of the rising sun.

He looked back out onto the expanse of the sea in front of him and spotted two odd shapes out on the water.  No, rather, one seemed to be on the water, while the other flew in the air.  But, what he could see of their shape, suggested they were human rather than animal.  As the shapes came closer in the growing light, Jacob became assured of their human form.  As he continued
to stare at them, he also realized that they weren't only human, but also two young women.

As Jacob watched the slender, lithe female figures playing far out on the water, he was captivated.  They had a grace and surety of form the like he had never seen before.  Then, strangely, they stopped their playing, motioning towards where he stood.  Changing their course, they moved quickly towards Jacob.  What do they see?  Jacob thought. What will they see?

Jacob's mind became clouded and uncertain.  One of the figures flew in the air, the other swam like no human ever could, marking them both as beyond the realm of the purely normal.  Still, Jacob couldn't shake the feeling that his duty was to show them what they might want, not who he really was.  It was not hard, as the two figures approached, to increase the light that flowed
from his body.  Straightening his back, thrusting back his shoulders, and unfurling his wings slightly, Jacob waited.

As the figures came closer, their features became clearer.  Jacob gasped, almost completely losing his composure.  Not only were the two figures beautiful women, bringing a little slice of heaven to earth, but Jacob recognized them both as the twins Sylph and Nereid, members of the Canadian Shield.  The Canadian Shield, the pride and joy of many Canadians, and here he was coming face-to-face with two of their members!

Part of him wanted to break down, act like anybody else, and tell them how much he admired what the Canadian Shield did, maybe even ask for an autograph.

But another part, the larger part, refused.  He had a responsibility to act in a manner befitting his appearance.  He regained his composure and waited for them to drift closer before speaking.

When they came within range Jacob deepened his already deep voice, "Good morning to you both.  And what prompts beings such as yourselves to awaken so early.  Is it as a prayer of thanks that the rays of dawn rouse the earth from its slumber for another day?"

"Say what?" The airborne Sylph asked.

Nereid raised up from the water, her upper body completely out of the slightly ebbing bay, seemingly defying the laws of human buoyancy.  With a shrug she answered, "I think that was a rhetorical question."

"Oh, okay." Sylph laughed.  "You're a tall fella, you know that?  We noticed you from a kilometer away.  I mean, you're as tall as Blockade!"

"Sylph!" Nereid looked embarrassed at her sister's bluntness.  "Sorry about that.  She lacks finesse."

Jacob laughed, a deep rich laugh of joy mingled with relief.  His shoulders and back visibly eased as his face relaxed into a half smile.  "That's quite alright.  I am fairly tall and I do glow; give me a fog horn and I think I'd make a pretty decent lighthouse."

His angelic countenance shattered, Jacob freed himself from his sense of duty to project the proper image.  "Wow!  You're part of Canadian Shield aren't you?  Real heroes, oh wow.  You're Sylph and...  ah, Neh-Neh...  Nereid, right?" Jacob stammered.

The amphibious heroine smiled, her body gliding on the water.  "Yes, its Nereid.  And you are?"

Jacob paused, fighting 22 years of responding to that question with Thomas.  "Sorry, I'm Jacob," he said, awkwardly thrusting out a hand.

Nereid coasted closer to the pier and reached for Jacob's hand, allowing him to take her's.  "A pleasure, Jacob," she said with a smile.

"So what, no codename?" Sylph asked.  "I figured a guy like you would be called something like, I don't know, Pinion or Seraph or Big Bird.  But then again, I guess the Sesame Street execs and lawyers would be all over you if you were called 'Big Bird.'"

Nereid shook her head and sighed.

Jacob rewarded the amphibious sister with a smile, "Read Genesis; Jacob fits me."

Shifting his attention to Sylph and her translucent wings, Jacob's face lit up.  "This might seem a little forward, actually I have no idea if this is forward or not, but, do you wanna fly?"  Jacob asked, spreading his own feathery wings.  He sheepishly continued, "I've never actually flown with another person who could fly before, and playing tag with the falcons is getting kind of boring; especially seeing as they don't seem to know the rules."

"Sounds like fun," Sylph said, doing a quick flip in the air.  She turned back to Jacob.  "Why would that be forward?"

"I think he was being polite," Nereid replied.

Jacob smiled again, this was turning into a good day.  "Yes, thank you.  What about you though?  I mean..."   He gestured to the water then up to the sky.

"If you fly over the water, I'll be able to keep up just fine," Nereid assured him.

She was right.  Flying out over the water, Nereid kept up with the two flyers with ease.  As Jacob flew out over Hudson's Bay, listening to and participating in the idle conversations that went along with first encounters, he could feel his spirits lifting.  This was what he imagined it
felt like to be a meta; to be beyond the purely human.  He flew, joked with the twins Sylph and Nereid, even dived into the sea a few times, feeling the exhilaration as the cold water ripped into his pores and forced the water from his lungs.

As the day wore on, he knew, without even thinking about it, that this was truly one of the best days of his life.  Free from the world of expectations, he flew amongst the clouds and skimmed the water; free from his own thoughts, his mind joined his body in flight.  The sun was well on its journey to the west when the three turned back, looking for dry land.  Like for so much of the day, he was laughing as he landed.

When he touched down, his joy softened, as if the earth had reached up and claimed back one of its own.  He could feel the joy, feel the laughter still tickling his throat, but the day and all its fun was distilling into memory. Jacob turned back towards the twins still smiling.

"Thanks, I'd almost forgotten what it was like to ha--" Jacob stopped himself.  He was going to say "have fun with other people," but they didn't need to know that, no one did.  "Thank you."

Nereid paused for but a moment, wondering what it was he was really going to say, and then smiled.  "Don't sweat it, Jacob."

"Yeah," Sylph added.  "It's great to meet new metas.  And I'm glad we met you.  It would've been a shame to find out that you're playing for, you know, the 'other side.'"

He turned away from Sylph and Nereid to watch the falling sun.  His mind was elsewhere. "What's it like, doing what you do?  I mean, what's it like knowing that people see you as an image, as a kind of symbol that they created, but they don't want to see you?  They don't much care about the living, breathing person behind the appearance.  How do you deal with that?"

Sylph scratched her head, then flittered about like a giant dragonfly, laughing. "You seriously have to loosen up."

Nereid splashed her sister, scowling at her.  She looked at Jacob and frowned. "It's tough to answer that, Jacob.  Some metas handle their position as a sort of celebrity, knowing all too well that they can't change the reality of being looked at as icons.  Others hate being regarded differently.  If you're confused about who you are, and about what you can do, it doesn't hurt to acquaint yourself with more metas.  That's what Sylph and I did."

"Sure did!" the pixie-like Sylph added, backstroking along the currents of the air.  "And as a member of the Canadian Shield, we've learned that we're important to many people."

Nereid nodded, her body gliding along the water.  "I know it's tough to be looked at as a symbol, and not as a person.  It takes some getting used to.  But I'm sure you must have some friends that aren't metahuman, right?  And I'm sure they treat you like a peer.  Remember these friends, Jacob.  Perhaps they can help you too."

"Yeah, you'd think that wouldn't you." Jacob barely whispered, thinking about the life he'd left behind.  His hands worked at globes of light as the memories returned.  Only four people knew about his change: his parents who had awakened to his screams of agony as his body shifted and molded into this form one night; his sister who he had once taken flying; and his best friend,
who had not even recognized Jacob upon seeing him in this form.  Four months ago he had left them all behind and had not called or returned since.  It was all for the best, Jacob continued to convince himself.  If no one knew where he came from, then no one could hurt those he loved, except for himself.

Returning to the present, Jacob lifted the globe of light he had been absently working on into the air.  Under Jacob's concentration, it floated towards the two sisters.  One half of the globe was a shimmering milky-white colour with various streaks of pink, violet and orange whirling across the surface.  The other side was a swirling mass of subtle shades of blue.  As it floated towards Sylph and Nereid it divided into two smaller globes, the white one coming to a stop before Sylph and the blue one before Nereid.

An absent thought floated into Jacob's head as he concentrated on his creations.  "Speaking about Canadian Shield, do you know a 'Blaze' or something like that?"

"You mean our resident hellraiser?" Sylph said.  "Yeah, Blaze is a member of the team.  Why do you ask?"

A blinding pain flashed in Jacob's head, leaving strange, disjointed images behind.  He found himself speaking; the message was what he wanted to convey, but the words and manner were far colder than he intended.  "Simply put -- knowledge.  I still seek many answers regarding this form of which I am still a stranger to.  As he claims to have certain, origins, I find myself seeking his aid.  That is the reason I question you about him."

"Wow.  You do realize your voice just completely changed, right?" Sylph asked, before flying back beside her sister.

Nereid spoke, eyeing Jacob, looking more concerned than suspicious.  "We'll tell Blaze you're looking for him.  We'll explain the situation to him and if he's willing to help, I'm sure he'll be able to find you."

"That would be most agreeable, thank you." Jacob struggled to shake off the iciness that had found its way into his voice.  "Today was a lot of fun, thanks."

Sylph waved goodbye and started off to the east.  Nereid started to join her, then stopped, turning back towards Jacob.  "Your welcome Jacob, I hope we'll meet again sometime."

Jacob continued to watch the twins until he lost them in the distance and darkness.  He shivered against the growing cold.  He looked around at the empty tundra around him.  A short distance away lay the town of Churchill.  Oddly, it didn't look as inviting as it had just this morning.  Strange and devilish shadows crept across the ground reaching out, only to whither in the
constant glow that encompassed him.

In the back of his mind the strange symbols that had been birthed in the blinding moment of pain were disappearing.  He had never seen the symbols before, but somehow he understood what they said; "He is anathema to us."  Jacob didn't know exactly what that meant, and shuddered to find out.  He wrapped his wings tighter around himself, keeping out the chill.  He decided he would be leaving Churchill tomorrow, he had no desire to stay here any longer.
 

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