<div align="center"><em>Vanessa gets food and her father thrown at her</em></div><hr/><br/>"You trying to make some kind of high tech security system?" Vincent asked, playing with the beam himself in his own testing fashion.  "Well it looks like it works to me but we can head into the city to test it, maybe tomorrow morning when we can get away? I don't want to risk going out in the forest at night only a son of Ares would be so stupid."<br/><br/>Vanessa's brow furrowed.  She hadn't been exactly sure what it was she was making.  Her tinkering would no doubt create a camera that would take pictures only when a monster or divine being crossed the beam, that she had known.  But why make it?  She often made things simply for the sake of creating them, her mind always buzzing with the mental images of components slipping and latching into so many possibilities.  The purpose often came long after the creation.  Besides, if there had been one thing she had been taught in school, it was the usefulness was not a requirement in life.<br/><br/>"That'd be co-"<br/><br/>Her voice stalled out, fading back into her throat when she saw a bright pink, glistening triangle of watermelon arcing through the air.  Water dripped from its edges, the momentum sending sweet drops twirling off in all directions.  It was lovely, and her hand moved to cup Nikki, bringing the camera to her face.  Before she could get the shot, the melon ended its trajectory.  Through her viewfinder, Vanessa saw the moist flesh collide with the handsome stranger's brow.  The shutter snapped, capturing the dewy humiliation running down the perplex boy's face.  From behind her lens, Vanessa began to grin.<br/><br/>Within her tunneled vision, the flash and lick of orange flame reflected down the black tube of the camera.  Reflexively, she dropped the camera.  The rush of heat and panic engulfed her, but Vanessa sat strangely still.  In real emergencies, she knew she had sometimes frozen.  When abuelo had tried his hand at making breakfast on Mother's Day, the grease fire had made nearly no impression as the flames danced up the curtains and brushed the cabinets with ash.  Actually, she had enjoyed dusting the fire with the orange box of baking powder.  The unattended fire shrank and cowered, seeming to obey her wish that her mama's holiday not be completely ruined.<br/><br/>While the young campers wailed and cowered, Vanessa stood.  Her knees shook, seemingly unwilling to support her weight.<br/><em><br/>Not now... please not now...</em>she hoped.  Now would not be a good time for her muscles to disobey as they so often did.<br/><br/>Bracing herself with her hands on the table, she lifted her trembling legs to step away from the table.  Through the dispersing crowd, she made her way toward the disturbed brazer.  The presence in the fire, dark and powerful but warm in every way, drew her close.  He felt familiar, like the feel of oil under her nails and the muffled Spanish curse of abuelo as he wrestled with a tight bolt.  So much did this being remind her of these things, that Vanessa addressed him as she had her abuelo.<br/><br/>"<em>Estoy aquí, señor,</em>" Vanessa stated.  Her dark bangs covered her forehead as she lowered her eyes respectfully, watching the fire's light morph across the floor.  In a panicked moment, she wondered if he even spoke Spanish.