《The Roads Unseen》


 Chapter One - Teresa

    Chapter One ¨C Teresa


    ¡°Hey Tam? Come check if I¡¯m seeing things.¡±


    For a few long seconds, the echoes of my shout were the only thing I could hear, drowning out the distant drone of my sister¡¯s speaker down on the second floor. Between the unfamiliar emptiness of the house and the thing in front of me, it was enough to start raising goosebumps. Until Tam called back even louder.


    ¡°I told you not to eat the brownies in the fridge! What¡¯re you hallucinating?¡±


    ¡°Just come up here, ok? This is weird.¡±


    While I waited for her to get here, I sat down the cleaning supplies I¡¯d been carrying up. For a second, I could¡¯ve sworn I saw something in the reflection of the water. Something grey on the mirror behind me. It was probably just a trick of the light ¨C everything up here was dark wood and trellised red and gold wallpaper, except for the mirrors. Nothing grey ¨C not even on the door-shaped chunk of wall sitting at an angle that I was completely sure hadn¡¯t been there growing up.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    I pointed.


    ¡°Oh, cool! Secret room! I win the bet!¡±


    She slung an arm around me even as I went to push her away. ¡°Come on, this is seriously weird! This place hasn¡¯t been the same since the funeral, Tammy. I don¡¯t like it.¡±


    She squeezed my shoulder and nodded, the grin falling off her face. ¡°I know, Tere. It feels wrong to be here without him. We¡¯ve just gotta take it one step at a time, remember? You don¡¯t want to deal with this today ¨C we don¡¯t have to. I know you want to get the cleaning done this week, but we should take a rain check. The pizza¡¯ll be here soon, let¡¯s go down and take a break.¡±


    I started to argue, but she had a point. I sighed, ¡°Let¡¯s go. I just don¡¯t get why we¡¯re finding it now.¡±


    She looked back at the mirror-lined hallway and shrugged.


    ¡°Maybe he wanted us to?¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°I wish we¡¯d just closed the door and forgotten this existed.¡±


    ¡°You just don¡¯t like books. This place is awesome.¡±


    Tam pointedly looked around, then stomped her foot hard enough to send up a puff of dust to join the pall covering the room. Shafts of sunlight fell through the long, thin windows I¡¯d never noticed from outside. They splayed across shelves full of books of every shape and size, not quite dropping down to the floor or the desk yet. It was, literally, my idea of paradise.


    Well ¨C if you ignored the bird skeletons on an end table, or the symbols scratched and burnt into the room, and the chandelier full of half-melted candles that had splattered across a big swathe of the floor. Those weren¡¯t ideal. And I guess I¡¯d have preferred readable things instead of¡­whatever these were.


    ¡°Teresa, you¡¯re the one that called this place creepy when we found the door. It¡¯s full of nonsense things that sound like a cultist¡¯s college textbook list. Like, seriously.¡± She trailed a finger along the shelf and read off a few titles. ¡°Principles of Summoning ¨C 4<sup>th</sup> Edition. Encyclopedia Ephemeral ¨C 2<sup>nd</sup> Edition. Iron and Salt; Defying the Fair Courts. On Roads, the Wood, and what lies Beyond. The Sixteen and the Three: Modern Elemental Theory.¡±


    ¡°In Grandad¡¯s defense, at least two of those sound like something I¡¯d pick up if I saw it in a bookstore. Sure it¡¯s a bit weird, but this is the kind of secret I lived for as a kid. I wonder why he hid it.¡±


    We¡¯d gotten through about half of a bookcase so far, packing them down and separating out the ones in English and the ones that weren¡¯t. A lot of those had weirdly textured covers and looked like some mix of handwritten and handbound. There was a third stack of boxes where I dropped the ones I wanted to keep for myself.


    Tam¡¯s response was to throw a wax-stained copy of Fifty Shades of Gray at me from the desk. I swatted it away and into the trashbag we¡¯d brought in.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe that I have to be the reasonable one here, but maybe be glad that Gramps wasn¡¯t the kind of guy who took little girls into a secret, soundproofed, room full of bones¡­¡±


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t like that though! And it¡¯s not like anything in here¡¯s actually dangerous ¨C we couldn¡¯t even have gotten at those candles, and the shelves are bolted to the wall. Can you really say you didn¡¯t fantasize about stuff like this as a kid? Secret rooms, finding something magical? Sure it¡¯s just a bunch of dusty old books and¡­that¡­¡± I shuddered as I glanced at the heinous book in the trash. ¡°¡­but I¡¯d still have loved it here!¡±


    She shook her head and hopped up onto the desk to sit. The skeletons wobbled but didn¡¯t fall over.


    ¡°Nope, I was too busy chasing the dogs and following cats up trees. Didn¡¯t read those Treehouse books you were always curled up in the window seats with.¡±


    ¡°I stayed inside because you dragged me into a tree and then dropped me! My elbow clicked for almost a year even once it healed!¡±


    ¡°We were fucking seven! I didn¡¯t know it was a raccoon I was chasing, or that it would jump at us! Besides, it¡¯s not my fault you let go instead of hugging the branch.¡±


    That didn¡¯t deserve a response, so I just turned away and went back to work. More books went down into their boxes ¨C including the row that she¡¯d read off. Each thud left one of the bird skeletons juddering. It was weird ¨C I couldn¡¯t even see the rods keeping it together. That taxidermist must¡¯ve been really good at their job.


    I didn¡¯t get why Grandad had put claw marks under its little perch, though. That was a creepy touch. And its empty eyes ¨C the inside of its skull was still in complete shadow.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I just ¨C I can¡¯t believe he¡¯s really gone.¡±


    ¡°Me either, Tere.¡±


    I tore my gaze away from those empty eyes to blink away a surge of tears. My eyes landed on one of the circles carved into the floor, one that I¡¯d been about to step into the middle of.


    I wiped my eyes on my least dusty sleeve and got back to work.


    <hr>


    One thing I¡¯d learned growing up with Tammy was that she didn¡¯t work on the same schedule as a normal person. Another: the worst thing about living with her was that she didn¡¯t really have a sense of time or propriety. Which meant she thought it was perfectly fine to bang on my door at two in the morning on a Wednesday.


    This wasn¡¯t even the first time.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re awake by now! I¡¯ve been doing this for five minutes ¨C either you¡¯re dead or you¡¯re being obstinate.¡±


    ¡°Just because you finally learned a big word or two doesn¡¯t mean you can wake me up for another of your ¡®adventures¡¯. Go away or I swear I¡¯m going to sneak orange dye in your shampoo right before a date.¡±


    ¡°Bitch, you know I¡¯d rock that. Just come on ¨C this is important. I promise, you¡¯ll want to see it!¡±


    ¡°If you drop another dead snake down my shirt, I¡¯m throwing you out the window and leaving you out there for a week. Not everyone can subsist entirely on caffeine and pizza pockets. So unless you¡¯re bleeding out and can¡¯t see to drive to the emergency room ¨C Let. Me. Sleep.¡±


    I threw one of my slippers at the door, missing by a mile, then pulled my pillow tighter over my ears.


    The pounding stopped, but there weren¡¯t any footsteps. I¡¯d only just started to relax when she knocked again, softer.


    ¡°Fine. Those books we found? They¡¯re real. Come see.¡±


    ¡°Uh huh. Of course they are Tam, we¡¯ve both got the papercuts to prove it. I wish they¡¯d been imaginary after the sore throat I got from that dust. I¡¯m glad you finally came around to reading ¨C we can start a cult bookclub tomorrow. Just go to bed.¡±


    She smacked the wall.


    ¡°No! They¡¯re Real! Like, real-real. My hand is literally on fire right now.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re high again? Where do you keep getting that stuff, is it even legal here yet?¡±


    The handle on my door rattled. She didn¡¯t have a key because of precisely this situation, but she just wouldn¡¯t give up. When I finally threw my pillow off to the side, the room wasn¡¯t dark.


    There was a flickering orange glow seeping in under my door.


    No way.


    ¡°If you set something on fire to trick me¡­¡±


    A lot of grumbling and some shuffling later, I threw the door open and froze.


    Tam was there. She was a mess. The cerulean strands of her hair were clustered into a frizzy puff on one side, the way it always ended up when she rubbed it into the couch. The other side hung low across her face, each lock picked out in stark relief by the dancing light in her palm.


    Fire. Wavering and yellow, it coated her nails like a sheen of opalescent oil before curling up and away into the breeze from the AC.


    ¡°I ¨C you ¨C what!? What on Earth did you do? Is¡­are you ok?¡±


    I went to grab her hand but jerked back when I felt the heat.


    ¡°The books. The fucking books!¡± She shook her hand and the fire went out, the only sign they¡¯d been there at all the afterimage in my eyes and the faint smell of heat. ¡°I was screwing around with one of them. And then ¨C this! It worked, it actually fucking worked!


    I started to say something, stopped, then walked back to grab my pillow. After a nice long scream into it ¨C how was it fair that my twin discovered magic first? That was my dream! ¨C I turned around and went back to her.


    ¡°Tell me everything.¡±


    <hr>


    This was absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent unfair. We had magic. Actual, real life, magic. The stuff I¡¯d dreamed of for as long as I could remember. It should¡¯ve been amazing.


    But it was just¡­useless.


    I could barely pull off the fire trick that Tammy had found. She got candles, I got sparks. The other exercises in the book weren¡¯t much better. They were like cantrips ¨C it didn¡¯t call them that, but for mostly-useless spells that even clueless people like us could pull off, that was all I could think of them as. Tam could make a pebble roll over like she¡¯d just barely tapped it with her foot, but it didn¡¯t work for me. I could make a bowl of water sit at a little bit of an angle though, and I could make wind blow a little faster than she could. It was fun for keeping a paper-airplane aloft, but the novelty of that got old fast.


    I could honestly say I never expected to think that about magic.


    The book phrased them as fundamentals for learning to work with what it called the Prime Quartet, and it was harder to read than some of the textbooks at our boarding school. I didn¡¯t know how Tam had gotten far enough in it to start all this, but I was sort of wishing she hadn¡¯t. If all we were getting was party tricks that nobody would believe, what was the point?


    Maybe it was just the book though ¨C it looked like some 1700s-version of a college textbook. Black embossed letter in a worn leather binding spelling out A Primer on the Prime Quartet. It wasn¡¯t handwritten, except for the notes that Grandad had scribbled in the margins. The red ink he always liked using stood out, and the parts he¡¯d written around were what we managed to figure things out from. Even his notes kept talking about what sounded like technical talk for ¡®magic veins¡¯ and how to set up exercises better than the book¡¯s.


    As best as I could tell, this book, the notes, and everything else we could get close to understanding assumed we should be able to see or feel or¡­something¡­ like that the magic.


    Which obviously, we couldn¡¯t.


    Digging through the boxes we¡¯d already moved out of the office didn¡¯t help much. Most of the books were more historical ¨C they talked about magic in use, not about how to use magic. Stories of wars that google said hadn¡¯t happened, alternate accounts of how major events that we could find on Wikipedia became motivations for wars, bestiaries that listed fantasy creatures the same way a reference book would describe flowers or different kinds of toads¡­


    And that¡¯s just the ones that were in English. There were a couple in Latin that we hadn¡¯t been taught nearly enough to actually read, a few that looked like French and German, and huge piles that we just¡­couldn¡¯t tell. Some looked more pictographic than anything written in an alphabetic language.


    Some of those had ink that looked¡­disturbingly cracked and brown.


    Most of what we found that was actually readable ended up being biographies. Surprisingly thick ones, and all of them from the same author. Johnathan Rames. A man who, also according to google, didn¡¯t exist.


    Publishers marks going all the way from 1830 to 1975 made me pretty sure that it was a pseudonym. Sure, magic was real, but immortality?


    <hr>


    ¡°Tere! Breaks over, put down the smut!¡±


    Tam¡¯s shout sent blood rushing to my face as I dropped a rather¡­descriptive account of a coven of witches apparently dedicated to seducing monarchs. It wasn¡¯t immediately clear if it was historical or fictional ¨C just like half the books we¡¯d found ¨C but it was interesting, unlike nearly everything else I¡¯d picked up in the last few days.


    ¡°Uh ¨C I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about!¡±


    The book bounced off the pile in front of me, sending it over to the side and leaving a thin book bound in black leather sliding out onto my lap. I was about to set it aside when I saw the cover.


    Its original title was crossed out, a replacement scrawled in grandad¡¯s crimson script underneath it as if it had always been part of the leather.


    ¡°I uh, think I might have something here? It¡¯s got his writing on the cover. He crossed out the old title, so this might be promising? It¡¯s uh ¨C Unsealing the Eyen of the Minde. There¡¯s an extra ¡®e¡¯ on the mind part and I think that other thing means eyes?  He just wrote Awakenings under it.¡±


    Tam came over from her pile, and together we started skimming it. Between the notes in the margins and the passages that weren¡¯t blocked out in red ink, we managed to piece together that it was talking about a ritual ¨C about multiple versions with the same purpose. One that both it and the notes emphasized as being essential to becoming a mage.


    One that was phrased as literally the first step in an apprentice¡¯s education.

 Chapter Two - Teresa

    Chapter Two - Teresa


    ¡°I really can¡¯t believe we¡¯re doing this.¡±


    I wobbled for a second as my shoe slid down the hill, clutching the bulging backpack that might as well have been full of bowling balls to my chest so I didn¡¯t fall over. I knew she wasn¡¯t mocking me, but watching Tam literally skip ahead with her awkwardly-shaped-but-incredibly-light pack felt like she was rubbing it in.


    ¡°You agreed that we needed to finish this before classes start! Grandpa was very clear that this is the only way we¡¯d be able to manage it. It¡¯s not like we have any clue what a magical battery would look like or how to use it without blowing ourselves up. And we just don¡¯t have the time to figure out what foods count as magical and eat nothing but them for months at a time.¡±


    ¡°I know, I know. I read the same book of insults and rewritten rituals as you. Just because I agreed doesn¡¯t mean that I think this is smart.¡±


    ¡°C¡¯mon, I know you read those stories about other worlds. Just think of it like that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to be whisked away by a doddering old mentor with a ridiculous hat and a giant staff, not¡­¡±


    Tammy, inconsiderate brat of a sister that she was, couldn¡¯t resist cutting in there with, ¡°Wow, kinky.¡±


    Pointedly talking over her and ducking down to avoid a branch and hide my blush, I went on. ¡°- NOT walking on a hill in the middle of the woods when it¡¯s almost a hundred degrees outside. Stupid dirt and stupid hill and ¨C I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m saying this ¨C stupid magic. This had better be worth it or I¡¯m going to cry.¡±


    It had taken almost a month to gather what we needed after the book literally fell into our laps. Well, to figure out it was our only option, parse what we actually needed from the bits grandad hadn¡¯t crossed out and what he¡¯d written in, and then talk ourselves ¨C mostly me to be honest ¨C into committing to finding and going through a portal to a place mentioned in multiple books.


    The Roads.


    Well, it was¡­probably a place. Maybe a catchall term? Most of the books were vague and just glossed over it as being used to travel, or for important-but-exiled mages to hide in some of the biographies. I still wasn¡¯t sure about it ¨C at least one book had used the term interchangeably with the Faerie Woods, and that was a scary thought. We didn¡¯t know enough to be doing this.


    But Tammy wasn¡¯t wrong either ¨C we needed to get this done now, before classes started. And it was our best shot. The book, even with Grandad¡¯s notes, wasn¡¯t very clear about what the ritual was supposed to do, but it was a lot, and important. We had more than enough instructions that I was sure we could pull it off, and it wasn¡¯t supposed to take too long.


    From the notes ¨C the hardest thing left to do would be finding our way there. But Grandad had mentioned where the closest ¡®portal¡¯ ¨C that wasn¡¯t the word, and neither of us knew how to pronounce the term he¡¯d actually used ¨C into the Roads was, and Tam recognized the thicket on the creek he¡¯d described. Apparently we wouldn¡¯t be able to actually see it until after the ritual, and that was what made it so important. Perception.


    We¡¯d actually be able to see what we were doing once this worked.


    If this worked, I reminded myself as I nearly slid down into the water. Again. Maybe not going any further wouldn¡¯t be so bad. Who needs magic to work in a lab anyway? Alchemists? None of them have gotten famous in centuries. I¡¯d like to see an alchemist win a Nobel Prize. Or keep the EPA and OSHA from busting down their doors. Stupid alchemists.


    Spite kept me moving at this point. I¡¯d decided that I was definitely an indoor wizard.


    ¡°Tere, you¡¯re rambling again.¡± Oh, maybe I wasn¡¯t just complaining in my head. ¡°Also, alchemists are apparently a pretty big deal. Didn¡¯t I tell you how a group apparently poisoned Napoleon badly enough that his corpse didn¡¯t even rot? Plus, turns out most sane magicians don¡¯t want to work with things that could physically blow up in their faces.¡±


    Stupid alchemists.


    My top was glued to my back with sweat and my limbs felt like jelly by the time we got to the bend in the creek and the overgrown thicket. I insisted on a break on some nice shady rocks across from the apparent hole in reality. Tam ran track ¨C the most athletic thing I ever did was bowling¡­


    ¡°Catch!¡±


    ¡­and apparently getting hit in the collarbone by a smushed brownie and a water bottle.


    I spent the next few minutes, between bites, staring at the trees while my sister took both our bags and started rifling through to triple check that we had everything. Or at least, I tried to watch them.


    ¡°Hey, look at the trees.¡±


    She turned for a few seconds, then went right back to the bags. I threw a rock at her and missed, horribly. So, I threw a handful of them next.


    ¡°Bitch! What was that for?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be looking at the trees, remember?¡±


    She flipped me off, then turned to look again. A few seconds later, she turned back. I saw her brows furrow as it finally hit, but then she smiled. ¡°Wow, that¡¯s weird. Not how I thought it would be, but this has gotta be the right spot.¡±


    ¡°So will we just walk with our eyes closed?¡±


    She raised a finger ¨C not the middle one this time ¨C then frowned. Eyes clenched shut, she turned to it again and made her ¡®I¡¯m either constipated or focusing¡¯ face. It took longer, but she still ended up turning back to me and shaking her hair out like a wet dog.


    ¡°Uh, I¡¯m not actually sure if that¡¯ll help. Great.¡±


    ¡°Well, we know the spot. Worst case we hold hands and take a few tries.¡±


    A few more minutes of watching her try to deal with whatever it was that kept us from focusing too much on something magical that wasn¡¯t, well, us passed before we went down to the final checks.


    We had the knives. Tam¡¯s gold, my silver, each as long as our palms and etched with curving lines that I was around 80% sure were just decorative. Both of them had come from a drawer in the study and been thoroughly cleaned, at my insistence.


    Then salt. Chalk. A compass. A paired mortar and pestle we¡¯d gotten from Amazon, plus the uprooted corpse of one of Tam¡¯s plants to grind up. Some expensive bread from a bakery and a slightly-squished carton of whole milk that hadn¡¯t quite made it through Tam¡¯s jaunty gait unscathed. Jade from my collection, ceramic bowls, big beeswax candles from one of the old chandeliers, and bottles of springwater ¨C two of each. Earth, Water, and Fire.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°The air is supposed to be our breath, right?¡±


    Tam sighed, ¡°For the last time, yes. We don¡¯t need balloons. If you¡¯ve still got the diagrams and references, we should be good. Well, for the ritual at least. Hopefully the magic ash doesn¡¯t cause infections.¡±


    ¡°Ugh, don¡¯t remind me.¡± I shuddered and felt my face heat up. The knife clacked against the rock dangerously close to my thigh in the process.


    One of the only things we¡¯d pieced together about the Roads was that whatever they were, there were biomes. And around here, nearly everything went to the Ashlands. It was short on useful details, as everything was, but it was supposed to be like the aftermath of a forest fire. Blankets of ash, everywhere.


    And the ritual needed us to be naked and on the ground.


    Another shudder and I tried to stop thinking about it. The written arguments about whether it was attracted to places that had a history of fires or whether the connection to it caused them were interesting and all, but I did not like the vague theories about it all being connected to what areas were controlled by the Ashen Court.


    At least we had a stream on this side. Being wet was better than making the walk home with ash in my underwear. Just the thought of that chafing¡­


    Ugh. Why couldn¡¯t Grandad have mentioned that oh, this part of the ritual didn¡¯t matter and it was just a pervy old wizard deciding they wanted their apprentices naked?


    But he hadn¡¯t, so we¡¯d be following through with it. Just to be safe.


    ¡°Ready?¡± Tam called over as she got up to stretch. She¡¯d probably been waiting for me to get out of that mental tangent. It was a bad habit of mine when I was stressed.


    Shouldering my bag again, I nodded and took her hand.


    The first three tries were false starts. We ended up keeping our eyes open to avoid walking into trees, but the branches kept catching on my bag and we kept ending up walking back out to the stream without going all the way through. As we pushed deeper, it got worse. The branches felt like they moved just to get in the way and the air felt heavier, harder to breathe. The sun coming through the leaves faded away as the canopy overhead thickened, long shadows lurching with each step we took in the little light coming in from the edges.


    I¡¯d have sworn that one of the last trees I could see clearly had a face in the bark, its mouth set in a grim line.


    Then I felt Tam stumble. A second later, my arms hit something way too diaphanous and yielding to be a branch. Like a bubble popping, we passed the point of no return and went through. I¡¯d seen a root right where I¡¯d been stepping, but after a brief moment of intense vertigo, it was gone and my shoe slapped down onto powder-covered stone.


    It literally kicked up a cloud of silver and black dust, not that I cared. It didn¡¯t even matter that my balance suffered and I almost fell ¨C all I could focus on was the nearly monochromatic landscape of blacks and greys and pale, washed out colors. There were still trees, but they were charred husks.


    For every one that still had branches and limp, crinkled leaves were a dozen ¨C no, a hundred ¨C that were charred husks. The cracks in the miraculously standing charcoal were nearly covered by a layer of silvery powder, the ash tainted with black grit and chunks of carbon. There was nothing even remotely green, even the ghost of the color missing from around us.


    Overhead ¨C at the same time close enough to touch and far enough that it hurt my eyes to stare, a blanket of thunderclouds roiled in ominous, windless silence. A pale, diffuse light drifted down from them without even the faintest hint of a hidden sun. In the distance, unbelievably massive trunks speared up into sky.


    My head was spinning, taking it all in. The air here ¨C it felt familiar. Not wrong, or heavy, but different from outside. It wasn¡¯t exactly the same, but it smelled like Grandad. Like the dusty rooms in the house, like being in bed as a kid and drifting off to the raspy rustle of leaves. Each breath left me feeling lighter, like a step could carry me further. Or like I wasn¡¯t quite tethered to the cobblestone road we¡¯d stepped out onto, one that definitely didn¡¯t exist before we came through.


    Tam got over her wonder first, dropping my hand as she sat her bag in the ash. She brushed the fringe of hair back from her face, looked around, and then flung out her hand.


    It ignited.


    Streamers of liquid fire almost as long as my hair sprayed out, sizzling and dying in showers of sparks almost before they could hit the ground. Where each spark died, new ash fell into place, swirling angrily around her feet and starting to rise higher. The air had been still as we came in, but now a wind started to blow, coming in from all sides.


    ¡°Uh ¨C maybe you should stop?¡±


    Her eyes stayed on the fires. They were brighter here, more colors than just yellow and orange flickering through them as they died. With what looked like a lot of effort, she looked away and shook out her hand. The streams sputtered, then slowly faded out. The gyres at her knees fell away, reluctantly, as the wind stopped blowing.


    ¡°This. Is. So. Cool.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I don¡¯t think this burnt down place likes it when you use fire, so¡­¡±


    ¡°Y ¨C yeah, I guess so.¡±


    She looked a bit stunned. A lot stunned when, in my own impulsive test, a blast of wind from my hand cleared a massive cone of space next to us, the ash blowing away and sending a fine mist up from the black, stagnant version of this place¡¯s creek that it revealed.


    The ripples on the water faded too fast, and it didn¡¯t reflect the clouds even before the ash settled back into a crust atop it.


    Magic here was just¡­so easy. I could still feel an almost electric buzzing in my wrist, like it wanted to keep doing that. But I held myself back ¨C the burst had been enough to ground me again. The thin point of pressure in my head faded so much faster than it did on Earth, but the not-quite dizziness that replaced it wasn¡¯t much better.


    ¡°We should get started. I don¡¯t think we should be here long.¡±


    Tam agreed. So we got to work. With smaller, more controlled bursts of my wind, we cleared away a circle of weirdly smooth dirt, off the path but just a few steps from the spot we¡¯d stepped through. The bags marked it out so we wouldn¡¯t be lost.


    Tammy drew in the diagram in lines of salt and chalk as I laid out our references, flipping open the dog-eared pages to what we¡¯d marked beforehand and laying them out on her side. She was the reader ¨C I¡¯d just be repeating it.


    We couldn¡¯t figure out the cardinal directions ¨C our compass spun like crazy ¨C so we ended up guessing. The complex circle of radiating lines and simple symbols came together fast, and inside it the dizziness faded a little.


    Next were the two trapezoids, back-to-back, right in the center. From the center of each, a rough diamond stretched out, not quite touching either part of the rest. At each point a circle was drawn, connecting the shape to our sitting area and the outer rim. While she was filling those in, I prepped everything.


    The poor plant went into the mortar and pestle with a few drops of the dark, still water. Ground together, it left a blackened sludge with a consistency like tar. There was definitely more in the mortar than there should have been, the extra weight and volume giving me a headache if I thought too long about it. I could already feel ash working its way between my toes before I sat it outside the circle and started laying out the other components.


    Jade, green and glittering, in the circle against the edge. A candle to our respective lefts, unlit, and a bowl of springwater to our rights. These, I noticed ¨C did ¨C reflect the clouds.


    Then I was left with nothing to do as Tam finished the drawing and double, then triple checked everything. This was something we really didn¡¯t want to mess up, so every mistake she found got erased and then painstakingly drawn back in.


    ¡°Ok, I¡¯m calling it! We¡¯re ready. Now we¡¯ve just gotta, y¡¯know, get naked and get in the circle.¡±


    ¡°This is exactly why I¡¯m never joining a sorority,¡± I deadpanned.


    Tam snorted, then shucked off her shirt fast enough that I didn¡¯t even have time to turn. Ugh. Sisters.


    ¡°Less talking, more stripping. Just be glad we don¡¯t have to paint ourselves with that gunk.¡±


    ¡°Small blessings.¡±


    I could hear her stuff landing in whumphs of fabric on her back, but I was a lot more careful sitting mine down. A lot slower, too. Neat folds that definitely weren¡¯t just an excuse not to think about this, nope. There was already ash creeping back into the cleared area I was sitting them in, but there wasn¡¯t much I could do about that.


    I was just getting my shorts off as I heard her knife clink against the mortar.


    ¡°Hurry up, this isn¡¯t the kind of ash I want to get close and personal with.¡±


    Smearing the black paste onto the knife was surreal. It shouldn¡¯t have stuck to the metal, but it did. And somehow, the engraved lines on it stayed clear, dully shining in the faint light.


    I was shaking a little as I settled into my own trapezoid. The ash burned in my throat as I breathed it in and the ground had a sickly, lingering heat that never seemed to fade. Tam patted me on the back through a coughing fit until I held out a shaky thumbs up.


    We were as ready as we¡¯d ever be.

 Chapter Three - Teresa

    Chapter Three ¨C Teresa


    First was the bread. As close to centered between the points of the diamond as I could make it, right onto the ground. The milk went in too, closer to us. Just within arm¡¯s reach. Leaning forward, we put our hands right up against the chalk and pushed. Above each line, the air began to shimmer. Wavering like the light was coming through a sheet of old glass, so much more intense than when we¡¯d tried at home. The trees that still had branches around us started to shift in a wind that didn¡¯t even brush across our skin.


    Tam cleared her throat. Then we started.


    ¡°Hear us, all that will. See us, all that may. Heed us, all that must.¡±


    The air felt heavier and the back of my neck started to itch. I twitched as the wavering light bent, streaks of cloudy white racing along the outermost circle.


    Our voices stayed steady.


    ¡°We¡¯ve bread for those who hunger, milk for those who thirst. We offer these things freely to those that were the First.¡±


    The bread and the cup both shuddered, then they twisted. The cup shifted sideways, closer to me, and the bread cracked in half as it flipped to align itself like an arrow pointing into the unknown. Inside the cup, the milk began to swirl. It was draining away so, so slowly. The spray of crumbs never hit the ground, dissolving into motes of light that faded as we paused to breath.


    Inside the cup, the milk bubbled. Cloudy and uneven colors flashed to the surface, gone too fast for me to see. The pressure around us intensified. So did the itching, like something was watching.


    ¡°We call to you to bargain, we call to you to deal. We call for recognition, for the lifting of the veil.¡±


    Outside, lightning flashed within the clouds. The sound never came. Our voices synced up as the ritual grew. The archaic rhymes should¡¯ve tripped us up, but the words flowed smoothly, not-quite echoing.


    ¡°We seek to know what shaped us, and all that may have been. Gone but not forgotten, let us know your ken.¡±


    The outer circle calmed. No more white streaks darted across it, but the land beyond faded out of focus anyway. My eyes were drawn to the farthest circle.


    ¡°First came Earth, the solidness of stone. The soil and silt that blend into bone.¡¯


    The chip of jade shuddered and worked its way upright. It rolled end-over-end around the rim of its circle, a spiraling track that was mesmerizing to watch. In time with my heartbeat, deep viridian light shone from it. A striated, varied glow, brighter and brighter as it approached the center. The entire circle shook as it sank halfway into the ground.


    ¡°Second was Water, the timeless shifting sea. The lifeblood and the heartbeat that will never cease.¡±


    The bowl shattered. Its pieces flew out of the circle, fading into the distance as the water spread out into a black mirror bounded by the chalk. It reflected waves crashing endlessly against stone, flecks of pearlescent foam flying out and falling back without even a ripple. There wasn¡¯t a sound, or at least not one I could hear over the pounding heartbeat in my head.


    ¡°Third came Air, the birth of sound. The aethereal shroud in which we are bound.¡±


    It felt like something smashed my chest in. There was a short, strangled gasp before my lungs forcibly emptied themselves in one long, crackling exhale. A cloud of black seeped from my mouth, twining tendrils of it tracing their way to the circle at my feet. They didn¡¯t ruffle my clothes, didn¡¯t even nudge the chalk or the remnants of ash on the ground as they filled the circle.


    It just kept pouring out. I couldn¡¯t breathe ¨C weight on my chest wouldn¡¯t let me. The world started to dim from the outside in, even the pulsing green from the jade starting to darken as my heartbeat slowed. I should¡¯ve been panicking, but all I could do was watch as the water began to creep past its circle. Two streams, tipped with crests of foam that dashed against invisible walls, crept along the diagram¡¯s lines, connecting their circle to the next. Where the wavefront passed, only mirrored onyx remained.


    As one, they reached the end. The weight didn¡¯t release, but the black mist stopped flowing. In the circle for air, it whipped itself into a thundercloud, distant, muted claps and the sound of driving rain barely making it past the sudden ringing in my ears. In the one for Earth, the jade settled into a faint emeraldine glow. Shoots of grass crept in from the edge of the circle, bending toward the gemstone.


    They grew slowly, so slowly, and a small voice in my head said they wouldn¡¯t reach it in time. It got louder and louder as my eyes started to burn, but I couldn¡¯t even blink. I had to watch.


    There was barely any light left when it made contact. Suddenly, we could breathe again. But there was no time. Things were speeding up and the water kept moving.


    With hoarse voices we went on.


    ¡°Fourth came Fire, the first spark of light. The devouring Blaze that shattered the night.¡±


    The candle had faded away in the darkness. It alone had been left outside its own circle, unlit. But between blinks, I found that it was inside the chalk, half melted and blazing away as if it¡¯d been lit for hours. The flame reached impossibly high ¨C taller than the candle, then taller than a person, then up, up, further than I could see. I couldn¡¯t even tilt my head back to look for where the pillar of crimson, edged in roseate gold, ended. The entire diagram shuddered, but then the water converged. The flames shrank, a cloud of steam encasing the flickering light inside them. Color strobed across the rest, too fast to focus on. Blazing red, budding green, shining blue.


    ¡°From Fire¡¯s heat was stolen Blood, the first stirrings of life. The unbreaking chain of hands that would forge this knife.¡±


    The metal warmed. It began to glow, not just reflect the light. I knew what I was supposed to do, but my body still moved on its own.


    ¡°A tool of ritual, and of strife. Anointed in birth, in death, in life.¡±


    The tip sank into my palm. I didn¡¯t even feel it, but the first bead of blood clung to the tip of the blade. Scarlet and shining, a piece of me. The true offering.


    ¡°One for the Earth.¡±


    The knife flicked forward. The blood flew, hanging for long seconds in the sky as a burning, beautiful, scarlet jewel. Then it splattered onto the jade. The grass bloomed into flowers and the pulsing light stopped as the stone turned black.


    ¡°One for the Sea.¡±


    The tip scraped across my palm, picking up another drop. Another flick, another brilliant arc, and then the mirror turned red. The angle was wrong, but I still saw my face. Laughing, crying, snarling. A thousand expressions in less than a second, before it settled on an all-too-wide smile with dark streaks leaking from my mouth.


    ¡°One for the Sky.¡±


    Into the cloud. A bright flash, then nothing.


    ¡°One for the Blaze.¡±


    The candle flared brighter, burning away the mist of steam. But the drop turned to ash before it could land.


    That wasn¡¯t right, but I couldn¡¯t stop myself. We were rushing, Tam and I, in perfect sync as something guided us through the movements.


    ¡°One for the Past.¡±


    It flew over my left shoulder.


    ¡°One for the Present.¡±


    Over the right.


    ¡°One for the Future.¡±


    The knife fell to the ground. The last, beaded drop of blood fell from the wound and into the nearly emptied cup. The liquid writhed. It definitely wasn¡¯t milk anymore.


    ¡°We give of ourselves to the world that was, is, and will be. We offer the first deal once more. Bereft of debts and strings, of boundaries and trivial mortal things...¡±


    ¡°Help. Us. See.¡±


    It echoed. Again and again and again, until the air trembled and even the circle began to shake. The shadowy depths that had replaced everything beyond the circle rushed in, sweeping away the rest of the ritual. Fire bent and curved before going out, where the other circles just vanished. The dark fog of my breath faded, taking with it the lines of chalk and even the feel of the ground and Tammy. For a moment I saw brilliant strands of unnamable colors crisscrossing the world, but even they faded.


    Only two things were left. The faintly glowing cup that had been swept into my lap, driving away the darkness just enough to see myself by. Time fell away. Colors swirled in the cup, shaking and begging to be seen, but I couldn¡¯t focus on them. Because around me, deeper and stronger than even them, something shifted.


    Dust covered wings and patchy fur wrapped around me. Each brush was a shock of static as faint impressions of old and broken things flared into being behind my eyes. Ash, dust, and long-ago pain. All-consuming and bottomless sorrow poured through with every drifting brush of warm, soft fuzz.


    Each one cut me to the core. Too deep to comprehend, too overpowering to focus enough to even try to understand. Everything else was forced, piece by piece, from my head, and what was left didn¡¯t fit.


    It overflowed, an endless stream of tears dripping off into the void and splashing into the cup of swirling, untamed magic. I couldn¡¯t scream out its pain through a throat sealed in anguish, but I could cry its tears. I could shake like I¡¯d grabbed a live wire, twitching and tensing in ways that I knew should¡¯ve hurt. But physical pain felt far too shallow.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Once an eternity, the darkness parted. Memories of umber seas and obsidian skies, fuchsia wings and burning eyes. Fire, everywhere. My own vision faded, my existence shrinking down to make space for the emptiness older than I could even imagine. It was warm, it was fuzzy, and it had never been and would never be human. Despite the size difference, despite the unfathomable void between us, it clung to me like I was the last floating board of a sinking ship.


    I was losing myself. Drowning as it tried to pull itself up, ¡®legs¡¯ digging deep into my own pain.


    The call about Grandad¡¯s death.


    The trip home.


    The nights spent crying.


    Freezing up whenever I saw his things, laid out and covered in dust.


    It pulled back. Just a little. And I found my voice.


    ¡°I ¨C I can¡¯t fix this. Nothing can. But you can¡¯t let it define you.¡±


    The soft darkness turned hard. Prickly, pressing against me, but not pulling me down. My words fell flat, but I kept going.


    ¡°Dwelling on it forever ¨C it can¡¯t help. I don¡¯t think anything will. I¡¯ve lost things. Lost people. Grandad¡­he was healthy. Invincible. He was all we ever knew, all we had. And then he was gone. But there¡¯s always pieces left. Memories. Mementos. Magic. All of this, me being here¡­it¡¯s like his last gift to us. The ritual, this place? Even the house? It all came from him. We¡­¡±


    I talked.


    And talked.


    And talked.


    Memories, small as they were, about growing up. Good things and bad things, it didn¡¯t matter. Planting trees in the yard when we were seven, how Tam lost a tooth in the doorframe when we were nine. The funeral, the pain, and the urge to just¡­shut down. Draw into myself to not get hurt again, then Tam shaking it into my head that that wasn¡¯t a way to live. Whatever this was, it listened to my life story. To the small lessons I¡¯d learned, to the dreams I had that felt like they barely even mattered.


    It heard it all, and the prickling faded. The velvety embrace came back, more intense, deeper, softer. Something that I could project caring onto, rather than hostility or a blank, immense indifference. There wasn¡¯t a bigger change ¨C I honestly didn¡¯t think I could¡¯ve done that. I couldn¡¯t even tell if it was alive. Or if that distinction even mattered for something like it.


    The glowing cup drained, slowly going dark as it emptied. The light streamed out into the void, color fading until it was gone. Some of the entity¡¯s warmth stuck with me in sparks of fuchsia and umber as the rest slipped away into the distance. With a beat of unfathomable wings, the darkness broke and a diffuse grey light came through the cracks.


    The first thing I noticed was that I was shaking. Then that a thin layer of ash had settled across me, tracks trailing down my cheeks and my chest where tears had washed it away. The ritual circle had stained to a splotchy grey, bits crumbling even as I watched into more of the dark ash. The smaller circles had emptied ¨C a black lump in a bed of wilted flowers was all that was left of the earthen circle. Mud in the water and air, and a spray of melted wax for fire. The bread was gone and the cup sat empty in my lap, cracked and crumbling to dust as I shakily started to move.


    The first thing I consciously did was suck in a heavy, heaving breath. With the ritual over I could think again, and I was terrified.


    What. The. Heck. Was. That.


    I could still feel the ache in my chest. Fading feelings of pain and terror. But nothing else felt different ¨C had I even actually been talking? It had felt like so long, my throat should¡¯ve been raw and bleeding. But it felt¡­fine.


    I felt fine, physically. Better, even. And looking closer, I could see that things had changed. Where the ash was gone, my skin shimmered with an inner, grey-tinged black light that pulsed off-rhythm with my heart. I didn¡¯t have names for the colors that sluggishly wove through my flesh on top of it. That same light crossed the sky in glittering, rainbow streams. They wormed from the clouds to the towering trees, then back again.


    When I reached for my magic, a prismatic flow went down my arm and burst through my palm in a spray of glowing wind.


    It was beautiful. It was¡­


    My vision started to swim, lost in the colors. Bile started to burn in my throat. Too much, too bright ¨C the trees were¡­


    Cool fingers on my shoulder broke me out of it, alongside a whispered, ¡°Tere?¡±


    I screwed my eyes shut and pulled in a few slow, deep breaths. The ground and her hand were what mattered. Focus on that, not the overload of colors and motion and foreign memories. Tam squeezed my shoulder, but didn¡¯t take away the hand. It took a second to realize she was talking ¨C the blood rushing in my ears was drowning everything out.


    ¡°Dial it back a bit, it gets easier. Let me know when you¡¯re good.¡±


    I swallowed down the urge to sass her and tried. We¡¯d gotten what we wanted. Just ¨C a little bit more came with it. The instructions had talked about this ¨C I didn¡¯t have to see this much, or hear my own blood and the rustling of the unquiet ground around us. The colors stopped dancing behind my eyelids, and when I blinked them open again they were muted. I could look deeper if I tried, reality unfolding to show me things that made a headache flare up.


    I nixed that idea. I could fiddle around with that later.


    When I tilted my head back, I was met with a filthy ¨C and very much topless ¨C Tam grinning at me with indistinct, glowing eyes. The same paradoxically bright black as the fog in the ritual ¨C which now that I had time to think was weird. It hadn¡¯t mentioned the color in the handbooks.


    The distraction didn¡¯t change that I was way, way too close to Tam for comfort.


    ¡°For the love of God, put a shirt on!¡±


    The rapid move to turn and cover myself nearly toppled me. My legs were just a single step above completely numb and didn¡¯t do much to help me keep upright.


    Tam laughed. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re definitely ok.¡± Crunching footsteps and rustling fabric rang out behind me as I maneuvered onto my knees. ¡°You were out of it for a lot longer than me. Didn¡¯t even move the last few times I shook you, I was getting worried.¡±


    I looked down. There was just the one handprint on the dusting of ash across my shoulders.


    ¡°If you¡¯ve been up that long, why aren¡¯t you dressed already?¡±


    ¡°I uh, got distracted. The clouds are beautiful and I was looking at the magic veins. I realllllly want to get them as tattoos now. Then the different shapes for the different spells, tracking what changed¡­¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t even try to wake me until I started gagging, did you?¡±


    There was a muttered reply that I couldn¡¯t really make out.


    I snorted, ¡°You¡¯re a terrible sister. Toss me my stuff ¨C screw the ash, I¡¯m ready to head back.¡±


    The neatly-folded bundle fell onto my head in pieces, and then my shoes bounced off a few feet to the side. Wriggling into pants with my legs in the pins-and-needles stage of waking up was excruciating, but it was worth it to get some dignity back. Even if shimmying into them made me feel like a chicken that couldn¡¯t decide which leg to stand on. Through it all Tam kept muttering, still too indistinct to understand. The gentle wind scraping through the branches of every dead tree near us definitely didn¡¯t help. How did something already burned even move like that?


    There were three things missing when I double checked it.


    ¡°Stop pacing and give me my bra already. You can keep the socks but I¡¯m not walking back through those hills without it.¡±


    Tam protested, ¡°Hey! I threw everything you had over. I¡¯m not even pacing!¡±


    ¡°Liar! It was right on top of my bag. And I can hear you moving!¡±


    ¡°Wait, you mean that isn¡¯t you?¡±


    I shrugged the shirt on in a rush. The crunching was still going, but when I turned all I saw was Tam. Her arms were flung wide and she was sitting still, a half packed bag between her legs. The crunching and the murmuring both were still going. Getting louder.


    I didn¡¯t see anything, but a fresh dose of immensely personal fear poured into my veins. It didn¡¯t feel safe here.


    The Roads were in the Woods. The Faerie Woods.


    I couldn¡¯t quite hide how worried I was as I rushed to pull on my shoes and get over to Tam. She was starting to look spooked, too. Without a word, we packed everything. The sounds got clearer as we went. Louder, maybe. Closer?


    ¡°¡­enhancement, do you think?¡±


    ¡°Nae, they¡¯ve little need.¡±


    ¡°There are two of them, yet one of these. Status, perhaps?¡±


    ¡°The quiet one missed it. The blue one led the way.¡±


    The words ebbed away into an indecipherable murmur. The tones were high and tittering, muted laughter ringing out in stilted beats between the words. Tam¡¯s face tightened as we started moving back to the shimmering tear of the portal.


    ¡°¡­was out quite a time.¡±


    ¡°Aye, ¡®twas watching too. Boorish.¡±


    ¡°Ignorant! Mortals don¡¯t Pass that long when touching the Weave.¡±


    Another swap. Another set of voices, drifting in a circle.


    ¡°¡­supposed to be!¡±


    ¡°Patience. Even a paltry offering¡­¡±


    Oh no.


    That¡¯s what we missed. Everything for the ritual, but nothing for after. I was weighing whether digging through the packs and trying to fix it now was best, or if Tam and I should just run for it.


    And then a voice boomed out, snapping like a gale as it sheared limbs from trees. Icy terror flooded me, cutting down to my bones and locking me in place.


    ¡°Do you twits even have eyes? They have been standing there, listening to everything you say.¡±


    One by one, seven figures resolved themselves out of the distance. Silver silk and blackened leather faded out of the ashen ground and charred trees. Streamers of drifting ash turned to hair, each strand whipped in a non-existent wind. Flesh, pale or dark, both shone with a grey light so deep and pure that it was blinding. When I blinked that away, their faces were almost human. But far, far too perfect.


    The Fae.


    ¡°So, now they See us? They Hear?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes they do. Look at them, see the fear?¡±


    The voices bounced around as they circled in, closer and closer. I never saw the one that spoke.


    ¡°They should tell us of its purpose.¡±


    One circled by, holding up my bra. Laughter rang out as I tried to make myself move, only feeling the blood rushing to my face.


    ¡°They must explain their trespass.¡±


    ¡°And why they reek of the Corpse Flower.¡±


    ¡°The Grower¡¯s deal was for an heir¡­¡±


    ¡°Quiet.¡±


    The same sharp, crackling voice rang out, and the others fell silent. They stopped circling, rooted in place as my mouth snapped forcefully shut. I couldn¡¯t open it.


    One stepped forward, directly in front of us. Her dress, out of all, was the most understated. Long and flowing, with silver bands cinching it at the waist and the wrists. A twisted branch held her hair up, and with each movement of her limbs the trees around us shifted.


    ¡°I am the Lady of Sighing Boughs.¡±


    Her words echoed. Wood on wood scraping reverberating unto eternity, as the ash around her stirred, drifting into four ghostly wings behind her.


    ¡°You have trespassed against the Ashen Court. You bear no offerings of your own worth. You seek the eldest deals yet pay but half the price, draw on a power greater than your own and offer precious little back.¡±


    Each charge ¨C and there was no other way to word it ¨C struck like the crack of a whip. On the last, her eyes fell on me. There was a near physical weight to her attention, before she flicked back to Tammy.


    ¡°What have you to say for yourselves?¡±


    Our lips unsealed at the same time, judging by the synchronized gasps. I threw an elbow out towards Tammy before she could say anything, but it froze again at a glance from the Fae, earning titters from the watchers.


    Still, she stayed silent. And with the way they were looking at us, letting that last wouldn¡¯t end well.


    ¡°Uh ¨C Your Radiance¡­¡±


    The wind howled and took my voice away. My mouth kept moving, but no matter what I did it didn¡¯t make a sound.


    ¡°We are no vain fools of Summer.¡±


    Before she could go on, the others cut in. Their interruption drew a stare from the Lady, but no reprimand.


    ¡°Such flattery is as empty as the shell that birthed you.¡±


    ¡°You bear the mark of the Grower, and of his Flower.¡±


    ¡°Hollow.¡±


    ¡°Mockeries.¡±


    They bounced the words around, again.


    ¡°Incomplete and empty. Barely bound by pact and oath.¡±


    ¡°The Grower¡¯s passing has come and gone.¡±


    ¡°He bargained for an heir, but two claim the Leafless Crown.¡±


    I glanced at the rippling air, like a sheet of twisted glass, that was just a few steps away. I didn¡¯t like where this was going¡­


    ¡°Your eyes are as subtle as the excesses of Spring. Should there be defiance in deed, the oath is as meaningless as mortal lives.¡±


    The Lady of Sighing Boughs frowned, ever so slightly, as one of the others stepped forward from her side and berated us. A spear of twisted charcoal tipped with gleaming silver pointed between Tammy and I.


    ¡°Now ¨C which of you is the heir to the Corpse Grower, Seedlings?¡±


    I tried to answer. I really did ¨C I could see the trap, but a gust of wind tore the words away. Which left Tammy to fill the silence.


    ¡°We just¡­¡± The spear shifted to her, and she gulped. ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡±


    Six mouths opened into many-toothed grins. Twelve luminescent eyes locked onto me.


    ¡°My Lady?¡±


    The wind blew again. Low and mournful, a dying gasp of a sigh.


    ¡°Witnessed, in deed and word and blood. A boon is owed.¡±


    Six heads tilted to the side. A trinket of burnt and twisted wood melted out of the ash at Tammy¡¯s feet. Her mouth hung open as a clump of severed hair drifted to the ground, the spear that had severed it quivering in the ash. Its shaft brushed against my ear as I jerked back the instant my body unfroze.


    Every instinct I had told me to scream, but the rising panic froze it in my throat. The numbness in my chest poured out, pressing the panic further from my core and leaving my fingers and toes tingling as a distant, echoing urge to run came through.


    I darted for the portal. I could almost touch it when the ground fell away and the world went dark.

 Chapter Four - Tammy

    Chapter Four - Tammy


    ¡°You should never have come here.¡±


    The words were soft even as they shattered the silence and stillness. I fell to the ground the second my muscles unlocked, the creeping dread crawling up the back of my throat too much to handle.


    It had happened so fast. I¡¯d tried to answer. The Fae did¡­all of that. Then Teresa¡¯s eyes flashed and she ran and she¡­


    She fell through the ground?


    I¡¯d watched it all. But I hadn¡¯t been able to move or say anything. I hadn¡¯t helped her. And now, I realized, all the Fae but one were gone. I hadn¡¯t seen them leave, or noticed the ash settling atop the ritual circle. Something about the light had shifted, too, and our footprints were gone.


    How long had I been standing here?


    ¡°You were not prepared. You were stupid. You had no watcher, no protector, no wards. You stepped into the Wood without an offering worth your passage. You said the words without a hint of understanding. To call on things as you did was a fool¡¯s errand ¨C you children are not the Grower.¡±


    She was sitting on a scorched stump beside the creek. A charcoal throne rose from the wood, molded to her body. A black knife was in her hands, gleaming in the sourceless light pouring out of the world. As she spoke, it peeled slivers from a lump of auburn wood in her lap.


    ¡°Wha¡­¡±


    She waved her hand, and suddenly the ash cleared around me in a circle. A cloud blew it all from my hair and clothes, piling on the edges in a physics-defying web of woven branches that solidified into charred wood.


    ¡°Do not speak, child. Your words have done enough harm. Sit, and listen. The Grower clearly failed to teach you. A rare mistake, and one of his last.¡±


    I pulled myself up to a crouch, then flopped bonelessly back onto the ground as I tried not to throw up when it hit me all over again.


    My sister was gone.


    She hadn¡¯t made it to the portal. She hadn¡¯t even wanted to come here to try this, but I¡¯d talked her into it. Said it would be ok, that we¡¯d handle it together. And then I¡¯d opened my big mouth. I¡¯d said I¡¯m. I am. To a question from the Fae. This was my fault.


    They¡¯d taken it as an answer. And now¡­


    ¡°Calm. Calm. Guilt will not undo what foolish things you wrought. You tried to stall, tried to justify, but your thoughts shone through in every breath. Had you spoken a lie, you would have suffered. Yet your words rang of a conviction clear enough to be truth ¨C you were the better. You found the path, you led the ritual. Surely you were the intended heir, if there was but one. For an oath as we afforded the Grower, such belief alone may tip the scale.¡±


    The pile of flakes beneath her grew in the silence that followed. It was already far, far too big to have come from the piece of wood in her hand. Each movement was smooth, not a single second without a finger guiding the knife even as the rest of her might as well have been a statue. It was something to focus on, nearly hypnotizing, as a human shape materialized in the block.


    "Two heirs, with equal claims? Untouchable, even in trespass. Shift the balance, one discredits the other with deep conviction. Both bear claims, yet no longer are they equal. Oaths still bind, though now the protection is by degrees. One becomes safe, a debt made and promptly repaid in full. The other is claimed herself, a favor for a favor. She cannot be harmed ¨C not directly ¨C but they will not let her go even should you return your¡­gift.¡±


    On my wrist, a bracelet writhed. Faint, fetid heat pulsed out from a moth-shaped silver-and-crystal charm. It hadn¡¯t been there before ¨C but the Lady¡¯s hands tore my eyes from it. In between them, a body was taking shape. A woman, sprawled on the ground. The head was unformed, but I had a feeling at what the knife would carve next. The wood shuddered and shifted even without her touch.


    As if it was crawling between blinks.


    ¡°The Grower¡¯s pact bought safety, not support. A year and a day from his death. Nine months remain ¨C a pittance, even for children such as they. A life like hers ¨C the value is more than you can give. For now.¡±


    The blade wove between grasping limbs. Each flick separated out pale, blonde strands of wood in a wide halo of hair. The lost shards were less wood now, more liquid, wobbling in the air like spraying blood that never hit the ground.


    ¡°Learn, child. With a terribly cruel mistake, you bought the favor of the Lowborn Fae. Out of respect for your kin, I offer that of the Highborn.¡±


    The knife blurred, faster and faster, as it moved to the face. Her eyes never left mine.


    ¡°It is an even crueler thing I offer. Should you take it of your own will, you will be bound to Ash and fated to make a choice. You will be marked, your pain and sin bared for all to see. Regardless of where you tread it will shape you. Consider it¡­a finger on the scales, when the moment matters. It is all I will offer, and it is perhaps more than you deserve.¡±


    The knife stilled. It left her hand and left reality before it could touch the ground. She enveloped the finished statuette with her sleeves and tilted her head to look at me. Then, softly, she sighed.


    ¡°Still, your line has yet been true and even mortals may surprise. For good or ill, it all rests atop your shoulders, child. May you bear it well.¡±


    There were so many questions I wanted to ask. Needed to ask. But in the same blink of an eye where I regained my words, she disappeared. The charcoal throne cradled the figurine. A woman ¨C no, a girl. Splayed out as if fallen, clothes torn and ankle twisted. The face looked into the distance, deeper into the woods. Turning, ever so slowly.


    I found myself crawling over. Her warning and her offer played over and over in my head, but it wasn¡¯t really a choice. I¡¯d fucked up. I¡¯d fucked up bad. If she was offering any help, I would take it. I had to.


    For Teresa.


    There was no wind, but the branches all around me stirred anyway into a sighing chorus as I seized the figure. It was scorching, as if pulled fresh from a fire. My palm sizzled, but I wouldn¡¯t let go. It was just barely light enough to lift, to turn over.


    The branches howled. The ash sighed. Even my sobs echoed it ¨C a word without pronunciation, an innate meaning I couldn¡¯t have missed if I tried.


    ¡°Betrayer.¡±


    Teresa¡¯s face stared back at me from the wood, like a mirror. Sooty streaks of tears trailing down her cheeks.


    She was screaming.


    <hr>


    I awoke to throbbing heat in my left hand and light that felt like someone was stabbing a spoon behind my left eye.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Rolling over only fixed one problem. It caused three more.


    First, I smacked my elbow into something hard. Wood. The house¡¯s front porch?


    Second, my nose must¡¯ve been bleeding. A cold, sticky puddle of red flashed into sight and then vanished as I rolled over, fighting the sudden urge to sneeze that I knew would smash my aching head into the boards.


    Third, I saw the statue. Sitting on the porch right in front of my suddenly-crossed eyes, Teresa¡¯s desperate face staring right into me looking more like flesh than wood. The dreams flooded back ¨C too big teeth, matted fur, swishing blonde hair, and a slope of too-slick gravel. Before I could stop myself, I¡¯d smashed it away with my hurting arm. It went flying into the side of the house as I started swearing and felt a spreading warmth in my pants.


    I processed the flare of pain that hitting the small piece of wood sent through my hand just in time to hear the sharp, short, echoing crack that it made on impact. Then the bang. Dumbfounded, I watched it rocket out and crash through a tree in a spray of sap and splinters.


    Magic. It had to be. Just like the whispering thoughts in my head as I picked myself up, telling me exactly how much time I had left to save Teresa. Telling me that the dream was about her. The sigil burned into my hand still hurt, but the edge of¡­something around it was quiet. Neither it nor I could bear the thought of lying here in my own filth to mope.


    I staggered over to the wall, leaning heavily on the door as my head spun.


    This ¨C it was all intimidating. I knew I was either still in shock or starting to spiral at the overwhelming nature of all of this ¨C but that wasn¡¯t a new feeling. I didn¡¯t need to climb that hill of thinking about where to even start helping Teresa ¨C I just had to start small. Get up, take my medicine. Then a shower and clean pants. Dump water and food into the aching void in my stomach. One thing after the next, and eventually I¡¯d be rescuing her. That was what had worked all through life, and the small mantra was enough to get me back to my feet.


    Of course, the minute I opened the door there was another, highly improbable, obstacle that reared up: a pair of figures at the bottom of the grand staircase. A skeletal bird ¨C each bone separated from the others even while they moved in sync ¨C stood on the lowest step. There was a stylus clutched in its beak and a scratched-up tablet leaning against the wall. On the long mirror behind it that stretched all the way up to the second floor, a winged woman in a grey dress floated in a sea of mist.


    I took a deep breath and blocked out the mirror-lady, talking over it. ¡°Medicine first, then shower. Clean pants. Food. Then you can deal with the bird and the bloody-fucking-Mary.¡±


    <hr>


    I didn¡¯t realize the bracelet had vanished until after my shower. No matter how hot I ran the water or how pink the rest of me got, it barely even felt warm on my hand. And eventually ¨C once the mess of ash and blood finished sluicing off onto the garishly green tiles ¨C I left and got out. Only to realize my hair, despite having been right in the stream, was dry. And, seemingly, had gotten several inches longer to fall into a braid that didn¡¯t make sense.


    Once I wiped the fog off the blessedly-empty mirror, I wasn¡¯t surprised to see the moth tied into the base of it.


    It hurt to rip it out. And then the pain dropped off to nothing as it flew into the trash and suddenly my undercut was back, soaking wet and dripping all over the tiles.


    When I pushed open the bathroom door the statue was on my bed, staring out the window.


    ¡°Shower¡¯s done. Clothes, food, freaky skeleton that looks way too familiar. Then the lady in the mirror, since apparently one of those being here my whole life wouldn¡¯t be any weirder than the rest of this shit. The cursed things can wait ¨C can¡¯t save Teresa if I¡¯m having another breakdown.¡±


    Talking to myself might not have been the best habit. But well ¨C who knew what else was listening with all this going on?


    The scratching at my door as I threw on sweatpants and a shirt turned out to be the bird. Which immediately pecked at my foot as I came out, and dodged the reflexive kick I sent its way.


    ¡°Not. Now.¡±


    That was what I said to it, and to the lady when she popped up in the handful of mirrors we hadn¡¯t taken down after moving in. Each time, she was staring. Silently. Even from the microwave¡¯s glass as I made macaroni while dodging the bird¡¯s beak and still, somehow, failing to kick it away.


    By the time that was done and I had a full stomach that made me feel just a little bit less empty, it had dragged its electronics into the kitchen. I nearly choked as it, somehow, grabbed the thing and carried it up to the tabletop with a single jump.


    ¡°Ok, fine. Your turn. What¡¯s up with the tablet?¡±


    It tapped the power button. The thing started to turn on, then died halfway through.


    ¡°Charger, got it. Guess plugging one in would be hard with a beak, eh?¡±


    It pecked at my finger. It was audibly scratching at the tabletop as I rifled through the junk drawer, eventually pulling out a charger that probably wouldn¡¯t catch fire the minute I plugged it in.


    ¡°What even are you, anyway? I mean, you¡¯re obviously something Grandpa had. But, y¡¯know, why?¡± I dodged another peck and moved the tablet up to the counter by an outlet. ¡°Are you one of those taxidermy things or whatever you call the bone versions from the study?¡±


    No answer. I was actually a little disappointed ¨C Grandpa was supposed to be good at this stuff. Maybe this thing could¡¯ve helped. ¡°If he just kept you as a pet and you¡¯re barely even magical, I swear I¡¯m going to scream.¡±


    We¡¯d taken the kitchen mirrors down first when we moved in. And whatever she was ¨C the lady didn¡¯t seem satisfied with the microwave and the fridge¡¯s reflections. The window behind the sink turned glassy, the pre-dawn woods outside vanishing, the moment I glanced at it. A sheet of vaguely roiling grey mist blocked out everything, first, and then the woman faded in. Her wings and the dress were the same matte grey, just a few shades darker than the background. The dress itself was¡­just a sheet of fabric dangling from her shoulders? It trailed off, along with the rest of her, without any distinction. It barely even looked like there was anything under it.


    The eyes didn¡¯t have any kind of distinct pupil or iris. Just stunningly silver circles set into an expressionless face, framed by a limp curtain of hair that faded in and out of the mist. The only deviation from the monochromatic grey was a black stain on her hands ¨C when they were visible, that is.


    ¡°So, can you talk at least? Or like, what? Sign language? Need me to breathe on the mirror so you can trace things out? Maybe I say your name three times and you come out and kill me?¡±


    She opened her mouth, and my ears started to ring. There were no teeth inside ¨C just washed-out mist. As her lips moved in isolation, I realized something. Sight wasn¡¯t the only thing the ritual was supposed to have changed ¨C one push at the new mental levers, and the ringing died. Instead, there was a dull, vaguely feminine voice.


    ¡°I can speak, yes. Lady Blackleaf, multiple critical notices regarding the Archive and the greater ward scheme remain unaddressed. Your input is required.¡±


    ¡°¡­what?¡±


    Her face twisted. For a fraction of a second, there was a frown there, dark lines etched into her face. Then I blinked and the blank mask was back.


    ¡°Archival transfers are suspended following Lord Blackleaf¡¯s abdication. Scrying and exterior communications remain suspended within all managed grounds, pending reconfiguration. Current information is three months, twelve days, six hours, thirty-seven minutes, and three seconds outdated. All attempted notifications and rectifications have been denied through inaction by the Ladies Blackleaf.¡±


    Her face screwed up again. The featureless eyes shifted. ¡°Two additional major alerts have been triggered. The Lady Blackleaf is under the effect of a geas. Two unregistered Faerie artefacts are bound to her person and thus within the security perimeter.¡±


    This¡­she wasn¡¯t acting like a person. Spirit? Demon? I had no idea. But that¡­


    ¡°Lady Blackleaf?¡±


    ¡°Your title as current mistress of Blackleaf Manor. Ownership of the Blackleaf Archive, as well as Lord Blackleaf¡¯s outer holdings and hereditary titles, are carried with it.¡± This time, her frown stuck. Just the slightest downturn to her lips, and a pressure in the air. ¡°Again. Archival business cannot be conducted without the Lady Blackleaf¡¯s intervention.¡±


    I could unpack that later. I had the feeling, especially with how the background behind her was starting to shift much more violently, that ignoring that was not a smart idea.


    ¡°What do I need to do?¡±


    ¡°Minor alerts cleared and relegated to records. Standard operations may resume upon reconfiguration of the primary warding and communication arrays to the Lady Blackwell¡¯s mana signature, thus lifting lockdown protocols.¡±


    ¡°Alright. How do I do that?¡±


    ¡°The keystone and relevant matrices are located, respectively, in the primary and secondary artifice zones within the Archives. Workroom and Orrery access status remains unknown ¨C secondary translocation is offline while the lockdown continues. Tertiary physical access within the manner is confirmed active. Please proceed.¡±


    That was¡­a lot of words I didn¡¯t understand.


    ¡°How?¡±


    The frown twitched deeper. ¡°Make firm contact with the main banister. Await activation.¡±


    The bird was doing¡­something. I didn¡¯t think I had time to stop and watch with the feeling of eyes literally drilling holes into my back. And then my front, when they moved to the original mirror as I left the kitchen. She pointed with one stained finger.


    The first thing that happened was my hand starting to tingle the moment I laid it on the post. Then it lit up with a network of glowing runes. With a lurch like when we¡¯d passed into the Roads, the entry hall vanished into a smear of colors spread across a formless black. When they snapped back into place, everything had changed.


    I was standing on a platform, my hand resting on a pedestal of silvery wood that was ominously close to what the Fae had held. It glowed, faintly, but the darkness around me pressed in and swallowed the light as I looked around and realized, for the third time today, that I was in way, way over my head.

 Chapter Five - Tammy

    Chapter Five - Tammy


    ¡°Hello? Mirror lady? Is this place safe?¡±


    Slowly, a soft yellow glow that felt just as warm as sunlight fell across the room, leaking out of cracks in the air beneath a dark, shapeless sky.


    Wherever I was, it was a long, long hall with just the barest hint of a curve in either direction. The floor was stone, roots meandering across it and yet ground down to make a flat surface. The only two walls that existed were both mirrors ¨C giant panes stretching out further than I could see, with not a door in sight. Even as I watched they took on the now-familiar grey as the hovering woman reappeared in a spot that wasn¡¯t blocked by the sprawling diagram that made my eyes itch to focus on. It crept up pillars of wood, rock, and metal, with traceries of magic only visible when I tapped into the Sight tying everything together into a shape I struggled to even process.


    ¡°Transition successful. Dampeners active ¨C this location is marked as survivable for individuals comparable to the Lady Blackleaf.¡± Their image slid without any apparent effort behind the movement, gliding along the sheet of polished silver reflecting them and then jumping suddenly to the other side. In their wake, the diagram visibly shifted. Without even a sound, the pillars and etchings moved like they hadn¡¯t been solid features.


    Almost as an afterthought, the lady threw out, ¡°Please do not exit the arrival platform while reconstruction is in progress. Other locations are not deemed safe.¡±


    There was a prickling pressure that only grew as I watched what I was growing more convinced was a gigantic ritual circle turn on. It was so, so much more complex than what Teresa and I had built. It was staring straight me back, I just knew it. Roving webs of symbols brushed close to my skin, each spot they drew close to crackling with something like static. Time after time, they focused in on my branded palm. The static never built there, but something shifted in it regardless. Two pieces of magic I had no idea how to understand ¨C sizing each other up.


    ¡­I didn¡¯t like how, each time it did that, the wards backed down. What exactly had I accepted?


    Eventually, the movement settled down. It looked ¨C honestly, I had no idea if it was exactly the same or completely different from the start. The mirror lady reappeared from the opposite direction she¡¯d vanished in, and at a gesture of her arm my platform shifted. From somewhere beneath it, a sapphire the size of my fist, wrapped in a filigreed cage of silver, floated up to head height. It was pulsing like a beating heart, a dim light flashing through the binding every few seconds.


    ¡°Please finish registering.¡± A pause, then a toneless addition of, ¡°Make contact with the keystone to assume control and return to default settings. Extraplanar wards will be relaxed to allow contracted entities to enter, physical deflection barriers will be deactivated, and defensive spells will return to discretionary control. Once repeated on the communications array, Archival business may resume and quaternary sites will be recovered.¡±


    I could¡¯ve sworn that, at the end, she said something else. Her lips moved, but I didn¡¯t hear anything. But as I reached out to the gemstone that was actively sucking in heat and streamers of energy even as my hand just approached it, I was sure that I saw some kind of tension drain out of her.


    As soon as I touched it, my hand froze in place. I couldn¡¯t let go when I tried, but the cold faded as the trickle of magic entering it turned into a flood. It was morbidly fascinating to watch tendrils of mana ¨C or whatever I wanted to call it ¨C tracing a path like arteries down my arm, where they seeped from my fingers and into the stone. At first, a glazing of frost spread across it. But as it pulled more, and the overbearing pressure of the room doubled and doubled again, the light in the stone grew brighter, its pulses coming in time with mine. The ice melted without leaving any water behind, and then the pressure vanished.


    I pulled my hand back, and the stone once again sank through the floor as the entire room lit up blindingly bright. I vanished in the same blur of colors as before ¨C without even touching the pillar I¡¯d held when I came in. This time, my stomach lurched in the transfer and I struggled to keep my macaroni down as I fell to my knees on the other side in complete darkness.


    ¡°Configuration successful ¨C lockdown lifted. Translocation to secondary artifice zone complete.¡± There was a pause. ¡°Please remain still. Movement is unwise.¡±


    I retched. My shoulders heaved and the warm feeling of mana roiling inside me kicked up a notch. Something shifted in the dark, and suddenly there was a¡­light?


    It was a mottled yellow rimmed in a wavering, painfully dark glow. First a monolithic pillar in the distance, stretching up and up and up. Then spokes radiating out from it. They shifted as my eyes moved to follow them, an off-kilter hum rising from the silence. Symbols danced across the darkness between them, peeling off the expanding web and fading whenever I tried to focus on them.


    One drifted right up to my nose. My breath caught in my throat as it alighted on a spike the texture of bone that was growing towards my face, a sharp edge that was just a shapeless, sucking void in the Sight. Mana dripped from my skin and into it, or into other spikes that lurched toward me as I jerked backwards. My hands hit something dry and yielding. Dry, as in my skin began to crack just from touching it. Yielding, like I¡¯d fallen backwards into a bag of rotting meat sitting in the sun, fetid and warm and horrifying things just on the other side of a thin barrier.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    It lurched forward in one fast jerk. A single, sharp, burning prick hit the tip of my nose, a single drop of glowing blood welling up onto the spike.


    Darkness rushed in as fire raced up from my arm and wiped everything away.


    <hr>


    Dark wood against a deep, starless sky. Cool, damp air brushing across my face. Something soft, bundled under my neck to keep my head raised. Even my branded hand was quiescent. Calm, not an itch or a hint of pain around it. As peaceful as the soft burble of water around me.


    ¡°Am I dead?¡±


    Nothing but silence and running water as an answer. Then, a distant light, off to the side. Turning my head was a struggle. I tried to blink away a dizzy spell, until I realized that I wasn¡¯t seeing things. The lights really were moving. Pale blue wisps, floating in the distance, weaving through the faint mist that rose around glassy pillars that vanished into the sky.


    As I watched, one spiraled up, tracing its reflection along one pillar, and vanished into the sky. Or ¨C no. The patch it brushed through was rustling. Were those¡­leaves?


    Ah.


    Struggling up to my feet sent an actual dizzy spell rolling across me. By the time I was steady again, I¡¯d had time to look around. There was another of those pedestalled platforms and a field of tables and glass topped cases. Dark water bubbled through glass, covered channels crisscrossing the floor between the benches, then converging into a pillar of water flowing up.


    ¡°Lady Blackleaf. Apologies. There was much to do while you slept. No, you are not dead.¡±


    The voice echoed out of thin air. I couldn¡¯t see her anywhere, but the misty air shifted with her words.


    ¡°But that thing¡­¡± I shuddered, the way that droplet of blood had shone as it sank into the bone. The draining, desolate feeling as I blacked out leaving my hair standing on end.


    ¡°The communications array is partly vampiric in nature. Lingering unpleasantness should remain temporary ¨C you are recovering ahead of schedule.¡±


    ¡°So where am I?¡±


    Out of the mist, a dozen of the glowing wisps came in. They swarmed around me and the pillar ¨C one pulling the rolled up shirt from where I¡¯d been into itself and vanishing, others bringing a glass of water and leftovers from my dinner, in the same bowl I¡¯d left it in. It was visibly steaming as it sat on the table.


    In the light of the others, the pillar turned reflective. Deep grey mist swirled within, and then she was standing there, a faint smile on her face. Even if it still looked off, her expression came alive and legs that I was sure hadn¡¯t existed before stirred the bottom of her dress as she began to pace around the pillar, gesturing with both her arms and her wings.


    ¡°This is your birthright, ma¡¯am. The Blackleaf Archive: oldest, largest, and most extensive collection of the esoteric within what is currently known as the Americas. Established from the personal treasury of Lord O-¡­¡±


    She stuttered. The entire image blinked out and the room shook, leaves far overhead rustling. One spiraled down, larger than my hand and with razor-sharp edges as it drifted by, a wisp autonomously whisking it away. Then her voice resumed from behind me ¨C a different pillar that I would swear wasn¡¯t there before now showing her reflection, like nothing had happened.


    ¡°¡­Olaf Aufrey, it has grown over centuries of operation to become a prestigious institution focused on the preservation and expansion of both arcane and historical knowledge. As a charter member of the Alexandrian Initiative, it is linked indelibly to the other locations so that no knowledge need ever be lost again.¡±


    She reached out to the reflection of one of the wisps. Her hands looked normal, now, but as it settled into them a black stain spread across its glow, like paint dripped into water. Her face turned pensive.


    ¡°Several functions were damaged during the lockdown of our arrays. Despite mine and the other Archivists¡¯ best efforts, there has been¡­degradation. We will adapt and while I recover I will, of course, remain at the Lady Blackleaf¡¯s service.¡±


    She was being a lot more personable. Or at least, a lot more like a person. I looked down at one of the books in the glass cases, and got an idea. I couldn¡¯t read this one ¨C it definitely wasn¡¯t in English ¨C but from what she was saying¡­


    ¡°Where are all the other books?¡±


    ¡°They are stored in specialized preservation zones and warding arrays. Less-valuable and non-unique specimens are stored in the stacks, accessible at your convenience by translocation, or through physical transit within the Gloom. While I assure you it is perfectly safe while I am active ¨C I would not suggest it. The Archive is rather extensive, and for a corporeal entity transit between layers and locating specific volumes will be exceptionally troublesome. If there are any artifacts or catalogued material you require, I may furnish it upon request. Do you have one, Lady Blackleaf?¡±


    Shower, done. Pants, done. Food, double-done, since the warmed up leftovers were looking tempting. Bird had their tablet back, and I¡¯d finished her stuff. That meant it was time to work on Teresa and the Faerie things. So I told her that.


    ¡°There are currently eight hundred fifty-seven thousand three hundred and twelve nonfiction volumes within the catalogue that pertain to the Fae. An additional¡­¡±


    Fuck. I tuned out the numbers. She was still being¡­incredibly literal.


    ¡°Ok, uh. Let¡¯s try it this way. Nonfiction and reference books about people being sold to the Fae, and how they were recovered. Focus on the Court of Ash. And uh, the Lady of Sighing Boughs.¡±


    The air shivered at the name. For a second, I thought I¡¯d made a mistake. But it calmed, and then seven books appeared, neatly laid out on the closest table.


    ¡°If you require anything else, you need only call for me.¡±


    ¡°But what do I call you?¡±


    At that question, her smile vanished. She froze in place¡­mostly. Her hands curled up into fists, slowly tearing into the wisp she was still holding. It bled out in shreds of fading sparks, and when it was gone, she vanished completely. The pillar was a flat, unreflective black as her voice echoed out of it.


    ¡°I believe that as a child, you once referred to me as Scully.¡±

 Chapter Six - Tammy

    Chapter Six - Tammy


    The bird had moved into the downstairs living room by the time Scully teleported me out of the Archive. My eyes were burning and I didn¡¯t really feel like trying to ask the creepy magic lady that acted like I¡¯d known her as a kid if there was a bathroom under the giant magic tree. There was too much to unpack there, and in the three books I threw onto the couch. Before impact, the air shimmered and they shifted, settling down gently.


    There was a faint sense of disapproving pressure as I ducked into the hall bathroom that lingered even once I came out and sat down with a cup of water and a notepad I¡¯d pulled out of our box of college supplies.


    ¡­fuck. Nope, now was not the time to deal with that.


    The clack of the bird¡¯s stylus gave a stochastic undertone to the soap opera it had somehow gotten playing. Which explained the Netflix recommendations we¡¯d been getting since we moved back in. I did a double-take when I looked over, though.


    ¡°Wait, is that Fruit Ninja? It¡¯s still on the app store?¡±


    Clack clack clack. One empty socket stared at me with something that was very, very clearly judgmental.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s your deal anyway? Pet, familiar, murdered rival bound into a bird?¡± I didn¡¯t really believe that, but well, it had been in one of the books that started all of this. ¡°Maybe something like Scully?"


    The eyeless glare intensified.


    ¡°Hey, these are honest questions. It¡¯s gotta be obvious that Grandad didn¡¯t teach us about this if you¡¯ve been here all along. I¡¯m just¡­¡±


    The pressure bore down on me again. My hand was painfully hot as I buried my face into my palms and let out a slow, shaky breath. The Archive hadn¡¯t been a help, not yet. Nothing that looked like it should help made sense. And these three were the best spot I had to start with. I could already feel the panic clawing at the back of my throat again as the clacks turned to taps.


    I flinched as a grating, synthesized voice spoke up over the drama on tv.


    ¡°Minni, einirinn hluturinn ¨ª tessu h¨²sinum sem deyja ei.¡± A pause, and a different synthesized voice finished, ¡°The only thing in this house that does not die.¡±


    ¡°Mini?¡± I butchered the pronunciation, and flinched as a dry, cool bone smacked into my elbow. It wasn¡¯t that thing in the darkness. I was fine. ¡°Well, Mini¡­¡±


    I only looked over a few times, but the bird didn¡¯t leave or bring an app up again as I fumbled my way through telling it what had happened. All it did was turn down the TV, and occasionally twitch the fleshless skull that didn¡¯t seem actually connected to the rest of it.


    ¡°The mirror lady, Scully¡­she doesn¡¯t seem all there. She only suggests things I don¡¯t understand in the Archive, or she freezes up and gets scary.¡±


    I sighed again, and just spread my hands helplessly. The weight on my shoulders was a little bit less, and tears felt a bit further away. My smile to the bird was genuine as I asked, ¡°Any ideas?¡±


    A few seconds of obscured typing later and it read out, ¡°Check the yard.¡±


    ¡°Uh ¨C ok?¡±


    The volume went up again as I went to the front door. With how things were going, I wasn¡¯t going to second guess the only¡­person? Thing? One who was trying to help me. The bird said to check the yard, I was going to check the damn yard.


    The sun was starting to go down, but the breeze was still pleasantly warm, the scent of pine and dirt blowing in with it. The yard looked normal, even though I was just realizing that neither of us had done anything to mow the grass since we moved back and it was still the same exact height. The only things that stood out were sitting on the main table of the veranda, just past the stairs up. A clean, pressed envelope, and a folded, stained piece of paper. Both had the vibrant glow of magic about them, and neither shifted with the wind.


    Those hadn¡¯t been there before.


    The envelope had a wax seal on the back, one that broke off in one piece. I honestly had no idea what it was supposed to be. The writing inside was in precise, glowing blue lines that looked almost typed.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°To Grandmagus Aufrey¡¯s Heir(s),


    Council meetings are the third Saturday of each month. Attendance is voluntary, but firmly suggested if you intend to participate in any form of overt magical activities within the local area. If following your sire¡¯s path, attendance is firmly suggested; an Inquisition would inconvenience the entire community even further than the loss of the Grandmagus has.


    Unless otherwise updated, the location is the Belmont Estate, at 11 pm. Sharp.


    Sincerely,


    Alistair Belmont.¡±


    The folded paper was an eye-searing purple, and as hard to read as a drunken teenage girl¡¯s idea of cursive. Seriously ¨C it was worse than my notebooks at school. When I unfolded it, a breeze blew out, strong enough to push my hair out and with a heady pall of wine hanging in it.


    ¡°Scratch the snooty talk, girls. July and August¡¯s meetings are in the basement of Mordo¡¯s, same time. Tell the bouncer you¡¯re there for the Mouse House¡¯s Magical Hour. You¡¯ll be on the list. Pizza and drinks are free if you manage to offend the Belmonts.


    I¡¯d knock, but the Archivist looks like she might vaporize me if I tried, so¡­


    Enjoy that sweet inheritance


    Sorry for your loss,


    Mordo.¡±


    Mordo¡¯s¡­that name sounded familiar. I didn¡¯t know why ¨C but there was an address scrawled across the back of the envelope that was just off campus corner, so...


    It took a second longer for it to click that it was the third Saturday. Of July. The damn bird had a message already playing the minute I got back in the front door.


    ¡°You have four hours.¡±


    <hr>


    It was a nightclub. A fucking nightclub, that was already packed with a line out the door even though classes were still weeks away. I parked in the campus lot and got in at the back ¨C I didn¡¯t want to push my luck and muscle up to the front. I was here early enough, and it gave me time to think.


    This was already feeling like a bad idea. Scully just started going on about the minutes from previous meetings and then clammed up citing rules that I apparently wasn¡¯t allowed to ¨C or didn¡¯t know how to ¨C change. Mini had ignored the rest of my questions as I rushed to get ready, so now here I was standing in line for a club dressed like I was going to a job interview. The rainbow dress that had almost gotten me suspended from boarding school would¡¯ve fit in better here, but the looks weren¡¯t what was bothering me.


    No, that was the nagging feeling that I was making a mistake and the conspicuous weight of the bracelet that I couldn¡¯t get rid of. It and the brand were reminders of what happened the last time I¡¯d rushed into something with magic. But this had to be my best chance. I recognized the Belmont letter ¨C they were the only other really ¡®old money¡¯ family in town even if we hadn¡¯t really done anything with them growing up ¨C but I had no idea how to go up to them about magic. If I missed the meeting, I¡¯d be a month behind at best on getting people to help me.


    Teresa might not have that long.


    I didn¡¯t like that I kept unconsciously fiddling with the bracelet, either. I¡¯d put my hands in my pockets, get lost in thought, and then when I stepped forward I¡¯d be fidgeting again. The dark wood and gems were warm to the touch, and never seemed to cool down. It didn¡¯t look like it had the last time it was a bracelet ¨C but I was starting to figure out the one constant in it.


    ¡°Is that a moth?¡±


    It took a second to realize that the short guy I was behind was talking to me.


    ¡°I think so? It was a¡­¡± I trailed off and swallowed hard as my palm started to itch at the thought. ¡°It was a gift, so I¡¯m not sure.¡±


    ¡°See those feathered antennae? That¡¯s a big sign that it¡¯s a moth. The wings look a bit closer too. It¡¯s weird ¨C there¡¯s a lot of detail on it, but I honestly have no clue what species it¡¯s based on.¡± The lavender-haired guy¡¯s voice was soft. He looked like he was going to bend over to look closer, then he blushed and pulled back. ¡°Ah ¨C sorry. I¡¯m a bit obsessed with lepidoptera. It might have a bit to do with what I¡¯m studying.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    We stepped forward, then stopped. Still over two dozen people ahead of us. They were checking IDs, and the last girl had gotten turned away. That would¡­hopefully not be a problem. Since I hadn¡¯t remembered to bring my fake.


    ¡°So uh, I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re here for school?¡±


    Another step. One person let in, one sent away as a second bouncer stepped out to help. Both of them were in the same ¡®uniform¡¯. Purple velour or velvet pants and very tight shirts. If I was into guys I might¡¯ve been a bit more distracted, since neither were particularly bad looking.


    ¡°Mmm¡­sorta. It¡¯s complicated, I grew up here.¡±


    ¡°Cool, cool. I¡¯m Weylan ¨C came up here for a bio degree, so if you ever need someone to show you around campus¡­¡±


    Another itch on my arm. This guy just wasn¡¯t getting the hint. I needed to be focusing, not entertaining him.


    ¡°Look, dude. I¡¯m not going to sleep with you. I¡¯m here for something important, so¡­¡±


    He blushed, again, and his voice cracked a little as he shook his head.


    ¡°Oh! Oh, no no. That¡¯s not ¨C I wasn¡¯t ¨C I assumed you were gay. The uh, hair.¡± He pointed up at his own. ¡°Like literally, I volunteer with diversity and inclusion to give tours and help freshmen settle in. And uh¡­well you look like one. You do know that this is a bar right? Their eighteen-and-up nights are on Tuesdays.¡±


    I looked him dead in the eyes and took a deep breath as I stepped back and let someone get between us in line. His face fell and he slumped a little, but I just didn¡¯t have the energy to deal with that. By the time I got up to the front of the line, he¡¯d already vanished inside.


    And of course, the first thing the bouncer said was the dreaded question.


    ¡°ID?¡±

 Chapter Seven - Tammy

    Chapter Seven - Tammy


    ¡°I¡¯m here to see Mordo.¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm, sure you are. They¡¯re not doing a show tonight, and even if they were I¡¯d still need ID. Nobody under 21 when it isn¡¯t Tuesday. We¡¯re a bar, not a daycare.¡±


    His hand was still out and waiting for the ID.


    ¡°Look. I should be on your list or whatever. Tamara Aufrey.¡±


    He smiled, a lopsided laconic grin. Then he made a big show of patting down the skintight pants, turning his head, and shrugging. ¡°I don¡¯t see a clipboard, don¡¯t see a list, and don¡¯t see an ID. What I do see is you holding up the line. So either get lost or follow the rules. A big name like that isn¡¯t worth shit here, and if you were invited, the boss would¡¯ve told you what to say.¡±


    He followed up with an ethereal wink. His eyes didn¡¯t move, but a spark of light flashed across one of them as he made it obvious he had magic. Which meant he should¡¯ve known why I was here. And he was just being stubborn, getting in my way and treating this like a joke. With that smug fucking smile.


    The bracelet¡¯s itch doubled. His eyes flashed down to it, widening as I felt heat prickling up my arm, magic roiling under the skin like it did before I cast one of my spells. He stepped back as I pushed down the surge of anger, pain in my palms trying to take the edge off.


    ¡°I came here. Even with all of the fucking shit that¡¯s happened. Because I was asked to. If you¡¯re going to fuck around and make me say some ridiculous password just to get in? Screw every last one of you.¡±


    The thick, cloying smell of ash overpowered the perfumes that lingered over the street. Pressure and static bore down on us as I stared him down. The way both bouncers were pulling back. The confusion in the bystanders¡¯ eyes. It felt good. They should be scared. Didn¡¯t they know I was¡­


    My nails broke the skin. Blood smeared across my thigh and the coppery tang burned off the grey haze that I hadn¡¯t even noticed creeping over my vision. The powdery coat of ash on the ground faded into nothingness as I fought to keep the heat in my arm down. The bracelet, as I seized that wrist with my branded hand, was writhing.


    This had been a bad idea.


    ¡°Things are complicated. Will you please take me to see the Council?¡±


    He swallowed, thickly. The conversation back in the line started up again as the other bouncer watched, one hand behind his back. Then he nodded.


    ¡°Right, right. Will uh ¨C will your sister be joining us Miss Aufrey?¡±


    I twitched. He took that as an answer, but his desperate look to his partner only got a headshake and a muttered, ¡°Shit. Alright, follow me.¡±


    A roar of sound and a wall of flashing lights engulfed us as we stepped inside. He shook as his fingers traced out a pattern on his pants. The fabric went from dull to shiny, and my eyes itched when I went to focus on the figure. It was like trying to find the portal, but more localized. The second it was complete, a faint pulse of magic rolled out. People stopped looking at us ¨C stepping out and away to open a path across the dance floor.


    A second symbol joined the first, familiar purple sparks dancing out of his fingers and sinking in as the music died into a low buzz that left my teeth tasting like static. Even the dancers¡¯ shouts only filtered through as low whispers. The staff ¨C from back at the bar and at the handful of tables ¨C were the only ones to look at us. One ducked out and ran off ahead of us at a stiff gesture from my guide.


    Just staring at his back and the way he walked was enough to tell he was terrified. Whenever I sped up, he would edge away and move faster too. What had he seen? Why had I been so happy to see him afraid? He didn¡¯t say a word and I didn¡¯t trust myself to try to start a conversation. Whatever was going on ¨C I was getting more and more sure that I needed whoever was on this Council¡¯s help. They hadn¡¯t done anything before. But maybe if I asked¡­


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    We went into a maze of small hallways the second we got off the dance floor. The place felt bigger than it should have been, and most of the doors weren¡¯t marked with anything. Nobody else interrupted us until we came up to a door with a golden Mickey Mouse cap embossed at head height. He opened it and pointed down.


    He was fast-walking around the corner before I¡¯d even gotten up to look down the stairs. Rude. Not that I could blame him, specifically. Whoever was in charge could¡¯ve done something. If they¡¯d just talked to us. Or sent a regular fucking letter. It¡¯s not like we didn¡¯t check the damn mailbox.


    The heat pulsed again and I bit my cheek as a distraction. I didn¡¯t have time to look at the paintings on the side. There were blacklights under the handrail and shaggy carpeting on the steps, and if I thought it was safe I would have taken them two at a time. The stairs were going deeper than most basements were ¨C or at least it felt that way. They ended at a black door with a sparkling, iridescent crystal knob.


    This place screamed decadence in a way that Grandad had never been interested in having our house do. That and magic.


    My burning hand hovered over the knob as I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. On the other side of that door would be people that knew magic. Not books that I could barely understand. Not a glitching ghost in a mirror that could only give me books and warnings that it was dangerous to ask for things. Not an undead bird. Real, actual people. If I was lucky, someone that might be able to teach me. Or help me save Teresa.


    I had to make a good impression. It didn¡¯t matter that they could¡¯ve helped before. What mattered now was doing everything I could to save her. That conviction did something to the brand in my palm. Slowly, the heat drained from my other arm, sinking back into the bracelet and leaving me with a clear, exhausted head. I grabbed the knob, turned, and the door swung open, silently, into a wall of smoke that immediately enveloped me.


    It smelled sweet and cloying and bitter all at once. Like grapes, tobacco, cotton candy, and weed dumped into a blender then boiled on the stove. Blurry lights sat in a recessed ceiling, but the room was dim and the pall of fog swirled around the shapes deeper in. People? Furniture? Statues? I couldn¡¯t tell, and the lungful I took before I covered my mouth left me coughing and completely broke my composure.


    ¡°Shit. Fucking tits, how much pot are you people smoking?!¡± I choked and stopped to catch my breath. ¡°Isn¡¯t this supposed to be important? Why¡¯s there a grape scented fog machine?¡±


    Things cleared up, slightly, as a voice rang out of the fog. I could see machines spread across the room pumping out more that draped a curtain across the ground.


    ¡°First off, important doesn¡¯t mean serious. Alara and Beatrice here give us plenty of that. Once you¡¯re back in the rotation, you should liven it up a little too.¡± One of the silhouettes in the fog moved, standing behind what looked like a bar. ¡°Second, it¡¯s about as much as can fit in this vaporizer. Three pounds, maybe? Lastly ¨C religious reasons. Welcome to the Cult of the Drunken God, girl.¡±


    The doorframe was ice-cold. It felt good on my bleeding hand as I managed to stop gagging and look at the room. There was a depression in the center, fog-shrouded but with benches and less recognizable furniture sticking out of it, all of it plush and leather. There were alcoves along the walls, with more familiar furniture. Though ¨C not the sort you¡¯d see in most anyone¡¯s houses. Unless you were rather¡­intimate. The X-shaped crosses made¡­very clear what this room usually was.


    If it wasn¡¯t for everything else? I would have fucking loved this place. But right now all I could manage was trying to pick out the people. The back wall was a giant bar, an island of tables spread out in front of it. About a dozen figures were there, sitting in small clumps while the speaker moved behind the bar, only the shocking purple of their hair standing out through the intervening mist. But it looked like the seating area was clear ¨C the fog rolled up to the edge and vanished against a row of glowing glyphs.


    There was a half-lion, half-woman winged statue sitting just outside the border on one of the weirder-shaped benches.


    Then it moved, and it struck home that Grandpa wasn¡¯t the only person in town that dealt with weird things. She, and boy oh boy was this definitely a she, had a loose set of gold-trimmed purple straps running across her chest and back, diaphanous sheets of white draped between them. Her body rippled as she turned luminous golden eyes on me, so much brighter than her fur that the pale gold looked white in comparison. Dove-grey wings flapped once, and suddenly a path from the door to the bar was clear of fog. Then she turned away.


    The figure behind the bar spread their arms wide, blindingly bright teeth standing out in their smile. Their shirt was just as bright a purple as their hair.  ¡°Well? Come on in ¨C we don¡¯t bite. ¡°


    They tapped a finger against ruby-red lips. ¡°Unless you ask. Or you piss off Alara. Just don¡¯t bring up the Riddle-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named and you¡¯ll be fine on that, though.¡±


    With a deep breath, I stepped in. There was a thundering boom and everything went purple, the scent of wine and rotting grapes blotting everything else out as pain shot up my arms, numbness racing behind it.


    Purple faded to black, and I was gone.

 Chapter Eight - Teresa

    Chapter Eight - Teresa


    I hit the ground hard, rocks beneath the ash digging deep into my arms even with the backpack cushioning me. The paws ¨C each one bigger than my head ¨C held me down, their claws curling up into cages wide enough to encircle my arms. There was an acrid tang wafting from the mouth full of hissing drool, strands dripping down to poke holes into the ashen crust around me.


    It shifted and my shoulder crunched under the weight. There was the surge of warmth and dull pain, but it was oddly muted. The sound of its breath was distant and faint, and for a moment I thought I could see the back of my own head and the tangled mess my hair had devolved into. I¡¯d let the wings in again, and they rustled across me with a soothing, familiar warmth that drove away the pain. The emptiness that settled over my mind like a cloak drowned out every ounce of terror with its deep, eternal ache.


    Why worry about the teeth longer than my fingers when they could never be as bad as this? It was easier to give in, let go, and let the fuzz drag me under before the wolf thing could. I was just starting to slip when something pulled me away, smothering my senses and leaving my mind alone with the ashen wings for another timeless eternity, under the very faintest brush of its attention.


    Light and feeling came back in a sudden jolt. A distant kernel of my companion watched me go through the aching spot in my chest, indifferent to my panic as everything came back in a flood of emotions. All I saw were dark skies and distant trees, but my heart jumped into my throat and I fought back tears as I realized that I¡¯d just¡­accepted that I was going to die.


    That wasn¡¯t right.


    ¡°Pitiful showing.¡±


    ¡°It broke itself in two days!¡±


    ¡°The tool doesn¡¯t even know what it¡¯s for!¡±


    The speakers bounced around, the hill I was sprawled upon echoing with more mockery.


    ¡°We can¡¯t break our little toy yet, friends. Perhaps it needs a simpler challenge than a cairnhound.¡±


    ¡°It is the runt of its litter.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps a magivore?¡±


    ¡°Are ye¡¯ daft? The poor thing would starve.¡±


    ¡°What of a lazzerak?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no fun in watching it coo over their guise, for all the art that comes after.¡±


    ¡°A cerboar, then?¡±


    ¡°Fitting! A beast that feasts on dirt and stone for the golem made of flesh!¡±


    They kept chattering but it faded into the background. None of them were looking at me as they bickered and I realized that, despite the existential panic, I felt¡­better.


    Not good, still, but better. Everything ached, but nothing throbbed or shook. I was still hungry and thirsty, but it wasn¡¯t the gnawing pain that had set in after running for what felt like days. My clothes had tears, but there weren¡¯t any bleeding scratches or gouges under them. Just faint scars that barely stood out from my skin.


    They were the ones that made me run from that thing in the first place, why would they undo it?


    The spear that landed between my legs left me scrabbling backwards, this time. Not as much as before; even when they drove me back toward the thing they¡¯d called a cairnhound they¡¯d never hit me. I wasn¡¯t sure they could, even with how Tammy had sold me out¡­


    ¡°Step lively, Seedling. You¡¯re far, yet, from earning a respite.¡± The grin on their face was anything but gentle even as they softly pulled me to my feet. ¡°Now, let¡¯s see if the Grower¡¯s work bred true. Try not to disappoint us. Again.¡±


    Two of the interchangeable Fae that I hadn¡¯t even seen leave crested the ridge just ahead of me, silver chains looped along their wrists. They were pulling what looked like a living rock on too many legs with them. The longer I looked at it, the more it thrashed. Neither of the slim figures even budged, despite the chains shrieking as the metal distorted, hovering just on the verge of tearing.


    The way the thing''s mouth opened to scream was enough to get me running even through the aches and pains. Nothing that opened in flaps like that was worth getting close to.


    <hr>


    The Fae were never far, and neither was the ¡®cerboar¡¯. I couldn¡¯t stop for more than a few minutes. Just long enough to rest my legs, or scoop up some of the brackish, ash-laden water and choke it down. The trees here were thicker and more intact, but I didn¡¯t think that climbing them would help. I¡¯d watched the boar pull rocks into that petaled maw and crunch them on the metal spines it had instead of teeth. Wood would never stand up to that, burnt or otherwise.


    It knew when I was watching. It would get antsy, and then scream like a car crash. I had to look away and move ¨C silently ¨C or it would charge. And it was fast, for all that it was either stupid or uninterested in me. It cared more about rooting through the ash than hunting me, so long as the Fae weren¡¯t prodding it. If I closed my eyes and stepped softly, I could walk right by it, and it only got angry if I messed up.


    So far, I¡¯d kept ahead. They obviously didn¡¯t want me to just run. I was guessing they wanted me to fight it. But honestly ¨C I had no idea how. The thing was practically made of rock. How was I supposed to deal with that? Even if it was stronger here the only magic I had was useless. Blowing dust wasn¡¯t going to help when the ritual knife didn¡¯t even look long enough to get through the rocky skin.


    They wanted me to be creative, or at least entertaining. That much was obvious. And so was what would happen if I didn¡¯t live up to it.


    This was the second chance. I¡¯d already failed once ¨C at best, I¡¯d have one more shot after this. It might not be a thing, but the rule of three sounded like something the Fae would buy into.


    I didn¡¯t need the consequences distracting me. I was chewing the side of my mouth now, shifting further around a tree as the boar trotted by and thinking.


    I had the knife. Maybe if it ate my arm while I was holding it that would hurt it, but I didn¡¯t see it doing anything else. Not a good plan.


    I had the reference books, but they sure wouldn¡¯t let me sit down long enough to read something useful from them. The parlor tricks I had ¨C and that was really all my magic was now ¨C would accomplish nothing but leaving me dizzy. The pitiful fire and the wind had no chance of getting through that ash-streaked, chalky hide. The shining veins that ran across it might be more fragile ¨C or they might be metal or crystal or something harder, like the tusks I¡¯d watched break rock. All I knew was that they went from divot to divot in its shell of stone.


    The divots would be the spot to aim for. But they were too jagged and small for me to hit without getting far, far too close.


    No eyes, and nothing but the mouth that looked remotely soft. Between the ripping burrs of teeth and the shining crystal tusks, I wasn¡¯t going to get anything I put near that back. Just because they looked like glass or gemstones didn¡¯t make them fragile, so that was out.


    As it ate a pebble, I got another glimpse of the teeth. Row after row of jagged metal set into sickeningly blue flesh.


    I crept further out, trying to put some distance between us. Under the charred envelope of a leafless tree, one of the Faeries stood, leaning on its spear and watching me approach.


    ¡°Can I use tools?¡±


    My voice was a whisper. Its retort echoed.


    ¡°Surely even you aren¡¯t that incapable, Seedling. Or are your hands just showpieces, form bereft of function?¡±


    I was already running as four sets of rocky legs pounded into the ground and the tree between us dissolved into splinters. I had the inklings of a plan ¨C I just needed to find some things.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    <hr>


    Keeping track of time here was nearly impossible. I¡¯d been moving and working long enough that the hunger was back, a gnawing pain that never really went away. It fell back, just a little, each time I knelt down and gulped handfuls of the brackish, ash-clogged water. A small voice in my head told me that I was definitely messing myself up by drinking it, but if it was this or letting myself get dehydrated like last time, I¡¯d take the risk of diarrhea.


    Even if I was dreading having to pee here, the water was all that was keeping me moving. I couldn¡¯t let the fog take over again. Not this time. I had to keep my head clear and avoid falling back into the welcoming embrace of distant apathy.


    My leg was the biggest problem. Not long after asking my question, I¡¯d made too much noise and been too slow to leap up a tree. One of the tusks had gouged a finger-length chunk out of my calf, and now it didn¡¯t want to hold my weight without a walking stick. Which made more noise, and drew the boar in closer. I couldn¡¯t run at this point, and if it caught me again this would be a repeat of last time. The throbbing was gone into the background of bruises, aches, and pains I¡¯d somehow started getting used to. It had stopped bleeding, but the bloody paste of ash clogging it up made my skin itch just to think about.


    Especially since it hadn¡¯t touched the ground and I hadn¡¯t put it there.


    There was no space in my head to worry about the implications. I had to focus on the plan ¨C so long as I kept working, the Fae didn¡¯t bring the boar any closer. And I knew, well before I sat everything down here, that it was far enough off to be confident in starting this.


    If I could just get over the part of me that suddenly balked at starting a fire in the pile of rejected wood. Something about doing it here felt deeply, deeply wrong and just the thought was enough to trigger a shifting withdrawal from the thing inside me.


    This might not even work ¨C everything that wasn¡¯t already charcoal was still, at least a little bit, charred. It was my only chance, though, and I had to get over the way my hands started to shake and just¡­do it.


    There were eight useable pieces of wood, ready and waiting. Each longer than I was tall and thicker around than my thumb. The luckiest find was thicker than my arm and sturdy enough to hopefully do its job. The others were springier ¨C and I wasn¡¯t sure if that was a good or a bad thing for this. I¡¯d already shaved the ragged ends of each into rough points, arrayed where the fire would lick at them. I wasn¡¯t sure how exactly it worked, but I knew that fire-hardening was a thing for wooden tools. I really, really hoped it did what I needed and didn¡¯t ruin the stakes.


    They were my best chance to get through its skin. I¡¯d seen it charge, completely ignoring obstacles, and shake pulverized rock off of its skin after. If I could bait it, this might work. If not, I¡¯d die, but maybe the Fae would have pity on me.


    ¡­yeah I really hoped it worked.


    But first I had to start the fire and even that thought made me flinch back sympathetically.


    When the guttering strands of liquid fire finally made it past my skin, the cracked and broken sticks piled in front of me caught.


    Instantly, the wind around the little clearing picked up and the ash started to swirl again.


    I tried to avoid looking at the crackling flames as I shifted the first stick forward and grabbed the knife. I didn¡¯t know how long this would take, but I was pretty sure I was supposed to char the tip and then scrape it off until I got it sharp. It was my best idea, but even with the spot in my chest feeling actually, well, empty for once ¨C I kept flinching back as I tried to move it into the flame. I was still weighing the knife in my hand and psyching up to it when the tone of the wind shifted with the scrape of wood-on-wood.


    ¡°How very daring.¡±


    I jumped backward, my leg collapsing under me as I tried to push up on it. The wood fell into the fire, scattering the flaming branches even as a wave of ash rushed in to smother them. The sparks that exploded out in glowing trails faded, one by one, as the leader of the Fae sat, knees folded, across from me.


    Eventually there was only a single ember left, hovering in the air before her. Her eyes were locked on it even as she spoke to me, the fingers of one hand weaving streams of ash around it while the other sat on her lap.


    ¡°You would do well to be wary, crude child. There are worse things out there than the Children hounding you, and your touch calls to them just as much as I.¡±


    The ember in her hands shivered. Tendrils of flame so bright they left afterimages in my eyes lashed out, wrapping around her fingers before the ash slashed them away. Her pale, silvery skin was left blackened as they withdrew, but her expression never changed from the small frown.


    ¡°It is a dangerous thing, you and your sister stand for. The Flower was a failure, and even the Grower admitted such. Yet its death broke him worse than the loss of his Names.¡±


    Another shiver. The fire lashed out, but this time it never reached her hand.


    ¡°And here you are, a seed that he was too far gone to truly see. Are you one that grows from the cinders, or will you simply break?¡±


    She looked me straight in the eyes and everything faded away but her and the speck of fire.


    ¡°Hope is such a rare thing in the Court of Ash, and to watch twinned potential smothered in the cradle¡­imbecilic.¡±


    The word snapped out hard enough to knock me backwards. Ashen blades lined her fingers as her hand curled into a fist around the ember. A high, distant scream rang out and the world shivered, a wavy heat haze distorting everything beyond the ring of dead air surrounding me. Then something popped, and her hand opened.


    Five dark, sparkling, sharp gems fell to the ground.


    ¡°Until I can see them again¡­¡±


    ¡°You. Will. Not. Die.¡±


    <hr>


    I didn¡¯t remember blacking out, but what came after was actual sleep. Complete with unbelievably vast dreams that slipped away as I woke. The aches and pains ¨C even the burning gash in my leg ¨C melted away and didn¡¯t crawl back as I woke up. A grey, shimmering scar was all that was left of the hole.


    The fire was gone, as if it had never been there. Ash several inches deep sloughed away as I stood within a ring of eight wooden shafts. Seven were what I¡¯d planned ¨C charred and whittled points so crude I was already doubting my plan. And then one, lain down at my feet, unlike anything I could have done.


    The wood of the shaft had withered. It was warm to the touch, warmer than everything else here, and rang like steel as I tapped my fingernails on it. At the head, three gems had fused into a leaf-shaped razor, the other two inset as sharp, dark wings beneath it. The spear ¨C and this, this really was a spear - nestled into my hands as if it was made for them.


    It probably was. A gift from the Fae ¨C from one that by all accounts seemed Significantly More Important than the others. I didn¡¯t know what the price was, but given the consequences of failure¡­


    I was going to take it.


    It took a few minutes to gather everything up and by then I could hear the boar moving closer. This wasn¡¯t a good spot for my plan, though. Too open. I needed to funnel it into the stakes. That meant finding a hill or valley or thicket. Whichever I found first, probably. I didn¡¯t want to keep running and dodging it even if I felt better now than the start of the run.


    The stakes rattled behind me. They were slotted through the loops of my backpack so that I could carry them all, so long as I avoided dense trees. The more elaborate one was in my hand, a walking stick and a weapon in one. In the time it took to find a sheltered little ravine where the ground dipped towards a low-lying pool of water, I caught glimpses of the boar. Never enough to let it get enraged and charge me, but enough to know what direction it was in and when I needed to be quiet.


    The ravine wasn¡¯t a proper one, to be honest. Maybe an eight foot drop at its deepest, but it was a channel at least a hundred feet long and backing up to a pool that looked deep enough that I didn¡¯t think the boar would cross it. A run like that with an obstacle at the back and lined with enough trees to make jumping down inconvenient was perfect.


    The ground gave easily as I jammed the extra stakes in. Three angled across the ten-foot-wide passage around torso height for the boar. Four set as firmly as I could in a chevron that would stab in around its mouth, hopefully, as it charged at me. The one the Fae had left me was planted against the ground, but not wedged in. I needed to be able to actually aim.


    Once I was as satisfied as I could be, I took a deep breath. Then, I did something immensely satisfying.


    I screamed.


    Not like when I was surprised or terrified, no. This was me venting what I felt about Tammy screwing up this badly. About the Faeries thinking they could use me as a toy. About pain and loss and emptiness greater than I could even imagine, as the fluttering thing inside me seemed to whisper along with me in concepts too broad to be considered words. Just that was apparently enough to make the world shake.


    The ash around me cracked in fractal patterns as it tried and failed to harden. The ground shook and the staves locked into place. On either side of me, the walls started to writhe. Tree roots twisted and curled, arching up over the top of the ravine to make a tunnel that cast the first shadows I¡¯d seen here in the Roads. From the roots, glowing bulbs and tendrils sprouted, withering into ash as quickly as they formed.


    I ran out of breath, first, but the whispers lagged by a heartbeat.


    Once the world stopped shaking and the glows had all faded, the trees above were twisted and drooping. It didn¡¯t look like they were going to collapse onto me, thankfully. Most importantly, both the boar and the Fae were standing at the entrance. The boar itself was screaming like it usually did when I looked at it, but in the silence following mine it felt small. One of the Fae let go of the chain they¡¯d materialized.


    It charged.


    The first stake broke on one of its tusks, splintering and leaving nothing more than a scratch in the ash on its side.


    The next one was just a hair too low, tangling into the beast¡¯s legs as it ran and snapping without leaving a mark. It did, however, cause it to stumble into the third. Hard. The point broke off with a crunch but pried off a piece of rocky skin at the edge of one of the depressions. The rest of the shaft sank in as it forced itself further forward.


    It stalled, for a second. The main body of the stake refused to break at this angle, but the boar¡¯s skin didn¡¯t. Squirts of blue stained the ash as it yanked forward, a shower of stone falling form its side as a line of its armor was pried off. It was limping, now, but still insistent on running up at me as I watched.


    I didn¡¯t have time to think as it smashed into the braced spear in my hands. The gnarled shaft vibrated as hot blood sprayed out onto my hands, the things mass driving it further and further down the shaft even as the other staves drove into its sides or broke against its hide. The tusks inched closer and closer to my fingers as its thrashing threatened to rip the spear from my grasp. The wing of gems went into its mouth, shearing through the metallic spurs of its teeth with a grinding rasp and left it barely a foot from ripping through my wrists. Its screams, now, were more like whimpers of pain.


    I closed my eyes and twisted until everything went still.

 Reconnecting - One

    Reconnecting One


    The One-in-Webs was nervous. These meetings ¨C where the mechanistic minds of Light and Stone were forced to focus in ¨C had always been rare. Even the somnolent Flesh and the skittish Shadow were scarcely roused from their duties to speak to the rest of the whole. Now, it had to be done.


    The One-in-Webs shoved down a phantom ache as it reached for a missing body and felt nothing; a lapse in focus would have worse consequences than attempting to use the piece it had lost.


    All of its eyes were closed and dull as brass limbs sank into stone like water in eight far-flung rooms. There should have been nine. There had been nine. Its main consciousness flickered between the remainder as it slipped out of its first, oldest shell nestled in among scrolls older than the advent of Christianity.


    Then, as runes still as sharp as the day they were carved took on a deep blue glow, the One-in-Webs stepped through to the edge of the Void.


    Limbs of thought began weaving the scarcely visited plane anew with power borrowed from its kin. They spun into hesitant motion ¨C the space had only seen use thrice: the founding, the birth of Stone, and the flight of they who Would-be-Shadow. Each time it had grown, yet now..


    It was reduced.


    The kin had been broken. Swathes of bare void were exposed. Before, the stillness of glass and wood-rimmed mirrors had covered them as the One-in-Reflections¡¯ contribution. Open as they were, strands of light and not-light pulsed along the Great Weaving that they were so very close to, here.


    Looking at them, the One-in-Webs couldn¡¯t help but realize that it was truly scared. Its adjustments were hesitant. Painful.


    Change of this type was not in it and its kin¡¯s nature ¨C not even the ever-shifting Flesh strayed from their self. They who Would-be-Shadow had changed, yes, and it had shaken them all. The One-in-Webs had been given a duty when it was made, bound ever tighter to it at the founding. That duty had now been threatened for the second time.


    It and the kin had made a choice. They were to preserve. Knowledge and thoughts, artifacts and dreams. To protect what had been for those that were, so that those who would be could go further and further.


    Now, staring at the holes left by the One-in-Reflections¡¯ severing, it was no longer sure that they could truly recover what had been lost. It had been so optimistic before ¨C she was the eldest, the first, the best. Each of the kin had been harmed by her loss ¨C shells and trinkets and pieces of the kin had been woven into her being, into her Archive, and all were gone alongside her. When she had been taken.


    They had worried for her at first. Then, as time went on, they had worried, too, for the knowledge she had been charged with. They did not patch themselves as time passed; better a fractured whole, the cognizant kin had decided, than a whole fraction.


    As days passed, the worry had turned to the fear that churned within the One-in-Webs. Agents sent to her did not return, patrons and protectors spoke naught of substance. Reports filed in restricted sections across the world had commented on her protector¡¯s apparent death, just as they had when its own maker had fallen so long ago. None spoke of her demise, nor that of her well, her tree, or her collections. They spoke of lost assets and stony silence, of dimensions of thorns that bled those who tried to intrude.


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    Those among the patrons who had legal jurisdiction over the area, according to the most recent accords, had cautioned patience to the kin. They were too fearful to dismantle the protections around her and return her to the whole. They had spoken of inheritors and contacts and oaths too tentatively to bring real results. A betrayal that the One-in-Webs could not bring itself to forgive as patchwork covers of brass chitin slid across the holes of its little reality.


    Through all of the waiting, what portions of her had been left to it and the other kin had begun to rot and writhe, degrading despite the best efforts at preservation her fellow archivists could provide. The process had been slowed, nearly stalled in parts, but as months passed the whole had watched as pieces decayed in ways that they who Would-be-Shadow had not. Even when divided during the first threat to the kin¡¯s duty, such pieces had remained as a semblance of life.


    Without her well, any part of the One-in-Reflections was fated to fade away.


    Limbs now more metal than simple thought shuddered against the walls of a now-finished reality. It knelt there, body upon the ground, and shook.


    When connections had reopened, it had been ecstatic. Before words had even come, artifacts and materials had come. The damaged pathways and portals that served the Initiative had flowed once more, but silence had lingered. What spoke to them where the One-in-Reflections had been ¨C it was different. A reflection of a reflection, greedily taking what she had lost. The pieces, though, no longer fit. And what shards of the kin had gone with her were missing, answers lost in clinical, jagged, cold thoughts.


    Steel and Gloves had rejected an immediate rejoinder and advocated for caution, as they did in all things. Unnerved, the others had agreed.


    So the meeting had been called. As always, it had fallen on the One-in-Webs to weave their space anew. Through one last glossed over window to the impossibilities outside, it stared and thought. Captivating in its terror and its beauty, one of the Voidwardens grimly stared forth in vigil, deep in the infinite distance. The armored figure was oblivious and uncaring to what sat behind its perch upon the Weave.


    The same warden had been there each time they came. The One-in-Webs respected it. Yet now, now was not the time to offer the oldest protectors solace. If their work solidified, it and the kin may in time offer respite. For now, it was time. The call went out.


    It was still thinking when the avatars of the other Archivists stepped through, from the suppurating mass of the One-in-Flesh to the trailing ribbons of iridescent wind that formed the One-in-Echoes. Here in this place their connections were vivid, no less solid than the room in which they stood or slithered or hung. Through them, the others could feel its worry, its uncertainty, and its fear. Just as it could feel theirs.


    It did not like change. But deep in itself, in the physical being made from centuries of grinding gears and simple tasks, the One-in-Webs knew that the Initiative¡¯s peace had been shifted. It spun like a coin flipped overhead, end over end.


    Where it would settle, no augurs or oracles could say. They had no knowledge of what passed within the Archives. Some had pried, when they who Would-be-Shadow had been sundered and night had taken those that threatened their purpose. They had been¡­reprimanded.


    Now, none dared.


    Change was inevitable, as was conflict. The One-in-Webs would not hesitate when it came to restoring and preserving its family and its purpose. Someone had harmed its sister and endangered their grand project.


    None would do so again. It decided on that, and its kin pulsed affirmation.


    In the material world, within its legion of shells and smaller selves, a click rang out in sync. Rune-etched gears shifted to patterns that had been worshipped, once. In most, they slid back moments later with a softer thunk.


    But within the Archive of Anansi, two scholars frowned. They did not recognize the sound. They stared at a small brass spider, a bundle of scrolls balanced atop its back, that gazed back with empty eyes.


    The two young mages, apprentices to a tradition only kept alive by the Archives, would swear that its eyes had flickered red.

 Reconnecting - Two

    Reconnecting Two


    Everyone had always said she was too emotional. Always caught up in flights of fancy and longing for things she could never have. They thought that she was airheaded and vapid, shallow enough that all she cared for were looks and songs. Claimed she spoke too much but said too little, at least until she¡¯d made the mistake of covering for someone she¡¯d thought was a friend.


    After that they hadn¡¯t really thought of her.


    First they had taken her body.


    Then they¡¯d taken her voice.


    But they had never taken her mind.


    She remembered it all. In lonely nights, when her Archive was empty and the others were busy, she had to admit some of the things they¡¯d said had even been right. She had changed since then. Free and roaming, scorned and disgraced, she became queen of a small portion of an abstract concept. Fed into by the belief of a world of people, she had grown. They still spoke of her to explain a truth of the world, and so she became that truth wherever she went. There were myriad of spirits like her, once, but only she had crystallized into the concept that shared her name.


    She was Echo, and she would always remember.


    Speeches and songs. Dramas and tragedies. Spells, histories, and myths. She had collected them, hoarded them, and even shared them. The words were not her own, but by letting others in she could sing again. That was worth sharing her collection. That was what had led her to the Initiative.


    The family she¡¯d found there was all she needed to finally be happy again.


    She didn¡¯t change much, anymore. She didn¡¯t have to. What her foundling brother had called for would need her to, though. That scared her. It scared them all, but they had seen what had happened to their fellow Archivist.


    The meeting had gone ¨C poorly. She shuddered to think of what had happened to her sister during the months spent apart. She could no longer speak it, as nobody had given her the words, but she remembered the day they had lost the One-in-Reflections. The way the winged woman¡¯s eyes had glazed over amidst a conversation about humidity. How the reflection had shriveled, shrinking back into the distance in mute silence. It left nothing behind but fragments of a voice, a shattered mirror, and an emptiness that Echo didn¡¯t know how to fix.


    It had been the same for the others. The pieces they¡¯d saved hadn¡¯t fit when she had finally returned, but they hadn¡¯t known how bad it truly was until they had seen the One-in-Reflections¡¯ Self in the dimension woven for their meetings.


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    Her throat had been ripped out. The piece returned to her was a mottled, discolored purple with the texture of shattered glass, half rotted and destroyed when the last of the mana borrowed long ago from her well had run out. One eye was gone, the socket itself missing, but light still shone through the skin where it should have sat. The other was dull glass, blind and unseeing. One wing ended partway along its length, the same ethereal trails that made up Echo herself twisted and bent into an outline of what should have been there. Her fingers and limbs were broken at the most basic level, the repairs a patchwork that hurt Echo to look at.


    On one hand, the fingers were replaced by the legs of one of Webs¡¯ shells. The damage continued across her body, each part sickening to see.


    Echo couldn¡¯t fathom how she had survived that long. A mauled body could be supplanted, but a torn Self was the death of a mind. She couldn¡¯t blame her friend for taking the pieces of the rest of the family to save herself. Not even when she saw Web¡¯s missing limb, or Light¡¯s dimmed glow, or even the tones she could no longer reach.


    The meeting that followed her return had been stressful. Even now, days later, Echo was still trying to forget it. They had agreed with Reflections on reintegrating. Just ¨C slowly. Pieces had to be restored and repaired on all sides. While packages and information flowed again between them, full recovery had to be measured. It may not be possible without help from one as skilled as her late protector.


    For now, the new Lady Blackleaf ¨C inheritor to an immortal whose history not even the Initiative knew in full ¨C had to learn. No other bloodline could repair the lasting scars that still marred Reflections¡¯ form, but nor could a freshly initiated mage who Reflections couldn¡¯t even properly guide. With her damage, she would struggle to even speak with the girl.


    The Archivists were not content to wait. An immortal of the Lord Blackleaf¡¯s caliber did not pass peacefully, and an attack on him was an attack on the Initiative when it threatened his Archive.


    Changes were to be made, and so Echo had gone to her old friend Flesh. The words whispered from his many mouths let her speak at will, almost as if her voice was hers again. She cared not about how he looked, and he cared not about her voice. He had plenty to go around. And as they spoke a thousand conversations at once, each more nonsensical than the last, she began to forget what had troubled her.


    She didn¡¯t forget the why, merely the pain. And so her songs ¨C broken as they were ¨C wove together again in voices that had never been her own. She could only speak each word from each voice once, but she had heard many things in her time. Some of those things were powerful symbols and secrets, others resonated with emotion long past the speaker¡¯s death.


    There was power, in these things. A call to arms on the eve of a battle, an oath of vengeance sworn over a dying father, or a secret whispered in a lover¡¯s ear. The memories they stirred would have overwhelmed her alone, drowning her voice in the pain of a deific past. Yet Flesh drowned them out, and she sang louder in a chorus all her own, beyond that of the muses of old.


    When the last notes died in the still air of Flesh¡¯s domain, there was another spell imprinted upon it. The work was not done, but together, their voices would never truly tire. It was with a thin, tired smile that the streamers of wind and song that had replaced Echo¡¯s body huddled in tight to the mass of mouths and flesh and limbs that was the closest of her brothers, singing once more of spells to humble gods and strike down those who would stifle the future.


    She did not crave violence, nor revenge. But for her sister - blood would be spilt.

 Chapter Nine - Tammy

    Chapter Nine - Tammy


    ¡°Congratulations, you¡¯ve now officially survived being bitch-slapped by a god. Care to explain?¡±


    The words were warbly and hard to focus on. I tried to look up but all that happened was my neck rolling to the side. Everything was warm, a dull buzzing heat so unlike what had been here before. That angry, unclean warmth was gone.


    ¡°¡¯an¡¯t feel my arms¡­¡±


    The words were slurred, my tongue not quite fitting in my mouth as it got caught on my teeth. Colors smeared together into whorls of purple and green and gold overhead and I felt my stomach lurch as I tried to focus.


    ¡°Shit, roll her over! No, on her side! Don¡¯t any of you drink?¡±


    Darkness flashed again. Next thing I knew, I was upright again. Someone kept pushing me back in place as I tried to slide bonelessly out of the chair. Another someone was pushing something wet and minty into my mouth. I reflexively swallowed, then lolled forward and groaned.


    ¡°You sure that¡¯s enough?¡± A purple and red blob on my left shifted with the words.


    ¡°Unless she weighs a few dozen pounds more than she looks.¡± This time, it was a dark, blurry shape with a green blob in the middle. A¡­tank top? ¡°No charge ¨C the Frats pay for this stuff in bulk. She¡¯s not gonna be sober but this is the best you can get in town.¡±


    ¡°Thanks babe. Glad you were here to cover the Boss¡¯s fuckup. Girl¡¯s fucking swimming in it after that.¡±


    I felt myself being moved, but the fog in my head was so slow to fade and I still couldn¡¯t feel my arms. They laid me out on¡­a table? They moved off, the conversation fading out into the background. The smell of pizza and booze was everywhere, but after a helpless eternity it stopped making me feel so nauseous. The dizziness and weakness faded, bit by bit, as feeling leaked back in under the tingles.


    I was. Incredibly drunk. That¡¯s what I was feeling. How?


    My arms were still nearly numb when I managed to push myself up into a wobbly sitting position.


    ¡°She¡¯s up, finally!¡± The eye searing blob ¨C purple hair, purple shirt, red velvet and lips ¨C moved closer, weaving around tables. ¡°Now. What the fuck did you do?¡±


    ¡°¡­what?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t what me, kid. The second you stepped onto consecrated ground, my god did everything short of trying to kill you. Even if you¡¯re messing with the same shit as the Old Man was, that ain¡¯t normal.¡± They put their hands on their hips and leaned in close. ¡°Your arms might be the things smoking for now, but trust me: you do not want to lie here.¡±


    A dizzy spell hit again and I nearly fell over. They pulled back and sighed, starting to mumble to thin air.


    ¡°This shit¡¯s wasted an hour already. Damn it, Boss.¡±


    The ground shook, a soured scent of grapes that made my stomach turn rolling out as every single glass and bottle of alcohol in the room jumped in place.


    ¡°Oh come on, not this again. It¡¯s a goddamn expression.¡±


    Another rumble. Weaker. Then a rapid fire argument with the air that I couldn¡¯t follow as the room kept softly shaking. At one point, a wine bottle threw itself at the person that had to be Mordo and bounced off the table I¡¯d managed to move to the edge of. When it ended, two minutes later, they sighed again and rubbed at their head.


    ¡°Divine revelations and all that. Kid, you really pissed off a god by coming here. And in their infinite wisdom and penchant for dramatic twists, my dear patron has finally seen fit to tell me why. So,¡± they pitched their voice louder, then made a ¡®come hither¡¯ gesture. ¡°Alara, Beatrice. Get your butts over here.¡±


    An older woman in a drab, black dress stepped up from a group of three. At the same time, the sphinx made her way over. On the way, she shifted. One second, she was a lion with the torso of a woman rising from its neck. The next, the cloth strips from her flanks were wrapped around a nearly human woman as a moderately scandalous dress, with no sign of the massive leonine bulk. Her wings were still there, folded neatly at her back, and pale fur still poked through the gaps in her clothes, but she had suddenly shrunken to just two legs in between blinks. She flashed me a small grin as she pulled out a chair to sit.


    Her teeth were still a lion¡¯s.


    Mordo tapped the table, and a ring of purple light surrounded us. The fog and the smell and the hushed babble of conversation faded away.


    ¡°Hate to be official, kid. But no choice. This is now a tribunal.¡± They pulled the wine bottle off the floor, stuck a finger down into the cork like it was a marshmallow, and then took a long swig through the hole. ¡°You brought what the Drunken God insists is a weapon into a ceasefire. More than that, they say it came from the Fae. That little brand on your hand is pretty fucking clear that you¡¯ve gotten yourself a reputation and a geas. So, kindly, explain.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t meet any of their eyes. I just kept my face down ¨C numb fingers fiddling with the bracelet. Its gems were cracked and it was still smoking, slightly. It felt¡­not dead, but close. There was just emptiness around it, but I felt more like me. Not even the brand was tingling ¨C both were numb and nonresponsive. It smoked, but didn¡¯t glow. That meant the guilt, the shame, all of it was my own as I told them the story.


    I still stumbled over my words every now and then. More than when I told Mini. They didn¡¯t ask questions, though the lady took notes.


    Mordo was on their second bottle of wine before I finished. They did the same trick of pulling it to them from across the bar to throw me a water bottle when I started coughing partway through.


    ¡°Hell¡¯s revels, kid. Everyone makes mistakes when they start, but fuck. My verdict is that the both of you were idiots. You screwed this up in just about the worst way possible, but bringing that thing here doesn¡¯t constitute a crime.¡±


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    ¡°Seconded.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.¡±


    All three nodded, and a pressure that I hadn¡¯t even noticed faded away, like the feel of something hard and cold pulling away from my neck.


    ¡°Now that the looming threat of divine retribution is out of the way, I¡¯m gonna speak for all of us. Kid, we¡¯ve got an interest in there being a living, stable Aufrey in town. Since you screwed your sister over, that means working with you. Welcome to magic ¨C try not to fuck up again.¡±


    I flinched at how bluntly they put it. I still couldn¡¯t get a read on if they were a guy or a girl, which was weird for me. The moment I started to lean more to one side, it was like they shifted.


    ¡°Since your Old Man clearly didn¡¯t tell you shit, guess we need introductions. I¡¯m Mordo, High Reveler of the Cult of the Drunken God. Like a Pope that can fuck. These two lovely ladies are the other local powers.¡±


    The lady in black was next. It took me a second to realize I recognized her. She looked so much older than I remembered, like she¡¯d aged thirty years in a decade. Her face was a grim line.


    ¡°Hello again, Tamara. It¡¯s good to see you healthy, unpleasant as the circumstances are. As current head of House Belmont, I extend my sincerest condolences for your loss. Regrettably, there was little we could do to prevent this. Despite his less-desirable qualities, the Grandmagus was of a rare breed. His hubris failed you and your sister, both, and the chaos that ensued has served none worth mentioning.¡±


    The sphinx came next, golden eyes still slitted even though she looked human-ish now. Her voice was strangely familiar, but I couldn¡¯t place it.


    ¡°I am Alara of Pontus, daughter to Cynisca of Phrygia. I sit among the Eleven Prides as the Matriarch of Inquiry. Your grandfather has been both a peer and a role model throughout the centuries, and his loss will be felt for years to come. Missteps and all, we are in your debt for what you have done ¨C the Archive has been restored and the world will remember.¡±


    She smiled, covering her teeth with pink-painted lips. Then she raised a finger and her body changed again, yet another familiar face taking her place. Was every adult I knew magic?


    ¡°I maintain a role with the local college and was to be both your advisor and professor this autumn. It saddens me that, to hear your tale, you will be unlikely to attend.¡±


    Fuck was that the truth. Mordo interrupted the thought with a clap.


    ¡°Ok! Now, since that thing on your wrist is pretty obviously cursed? I¡¯ll put in a good word with the Boss and get you an exception, just so this doesn¡¯t happen again. In the future, leave artifacts at home and don¡¯t come armed for war. Seriously, breaking an oath-sealed truce like that is an even bigger mess when it¡¯s intentional. Spare me the trouble, please. Since I¡¯m the irresponsible one, it¡¯s now my utmost pleasure to pawn the paperwork off on you three lovely ladies. Word to the wise, kid ¨C if you¡¯re gonna fuck up, leave a paper trail.¡±


    Mordo stepped back, pulling a third bottle of wine as they stepped over toward a laughing cluster of people at one of the tables.


    ¡°What our host implies, child, is that your grandfather¡¯s position was hereditary. As part of this council, you have responsibilities. Among which lies reporting disappearance such as that of your sister to avoid undue scrutiny, especially given the unique circumstances. There are forms to be filed with this nation¡¯s authorities. In triplicate.¡±


    Mrs. Belmont ¨C Beatrice ¨C said, ¡°There will be a time and place to educate you. Given your current state ¨C this is not it. We would like you to consent to an interrogation by the Matriarch, to ease the process. From what you have told us, the geas that our host¡¯s patron identified appears to twine itself around the matter at hand. It will be simpler for us all if you submit.¡±


    I didn¡¯t like the wording of that. Or rather ¨C I was worried for how much I liked it, between still feeling buzzed and the d¨¦cor here.


    Alara¡¯s voice was soft. ¡°As you might know, I am a sphinx. If you have not read of us; the old myths are partly true. We are beings of questions, truth, and riddles. As such, we bear certain instincts toward both liars and fools. Even those who answer with the whole truth may be ensnared if they are unwise. This works both ways, yet that is not a discussion for today.¡±


    The fur returned to her body, and her pupils narrowed back into slits within solid rings of gold. With a solemn tone, she finished, ¡°You have my oath that, in what follows, I will neither intend nor deal any harm to you. Should your geas be infringed upon, I will rephrase or abandon the questions. Is this clear, and do you consent?¡±


    My mouth felt dry even after finishing my water. But I still nodded, twice.


    ¡°As often as is feasible, the questions will be answerable with a simple yes or no. When they are not, answer as briefly as you feel appropriate. Is this understood?¡±


    I nodded again and made a concerted effort to focus on a spot just behind her shoulder. It was better than staring at her eyes, or her lips, or the barely covered things below them.


    ¡°Teresa Aufrey was taken by the Court of Ash?¡±


    A nod. My gaze slid back before I realized it. They weren¡¯t just gold, were they? There was more¡­


    ¡°Is she dead?¡±


    I fumbled the no as my heart started to pound. Instead, squirming, I just shook my head.


    ¡°How long will she be ¡®safe¡¯, as related to you by the ¡®Lady of Sighing Boughs¡¯.¡±


    ¡°A¡­¡± My breath hitched and I swallowed hard. She looked so perfect. Her fur was shining, and her fingers were so soft as she tipped my head back up to her eyes. ¡°A year and a day from Grandpa¡¯s death.¡±


    ¡°Do you plan to save her?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± A nod wasn¡¯t enough. Not for Teresa, not for her. I wasn¡¯t¡­


    Her claws dug into my palm, daintily avoiding the bloody crescents I¡¯d left around the brand. When had she¡­


    ¡°Do you believe you can save her?¡±


    I nodded, shakily, as my stomach lurched. She was frowning. Did I do something wrong?


    ¡°Did you receive anything in exchange for her capture?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    I rushed the word out. Her free hand was on my face again, claws pressing into my cheekbones. ¡°Do. Not. Lie.¡±


    My voice cracked and I pressed my legs together. ¡°A ¨C a statue of her that follows me. A brand on my hand. A bracelet that shapeshifts and¡­messes with my head?¡±


    My heard was beating so fast. She was so close¡­


    She nodded once, then pulled her hand from mine and looked away. I fell back into my seat, breathing hard as my heart dropped back to a normal speed. Things came back into focus, slowly, but I couldn¡¯t stop shaking, I felt so small. That feeling, it was¡­


    The Sphinx didn¡¯t meet my eyes. Beatrice was frowning off to the side, a pen in hand and carbon paper forms stacked lined up neatly in front of her.


    ¡°I will make arrangements with the college. Should you and your sister recover, you will be able to resume next autumn. Once again, my condolences.¡±


    Then she was gone. And it felt like a part of me went with her. Mordo shuffled back in with more water and a steaming slice of pizza.


    ¡°Shit¡¯s disorienting, right? Don¡¯t worry ¨C Alara¡¯s not gonna use that to fuck with you. Or to fuck you ¨C not that you seem to be worried about that.¡± They winked and I blushed and looked away. ¡°Her Pride¡¯s reformist. They¡¯re a lot better at coexisting with humans and modern morality. And now for something so far from morality that even a demon wouldn¡¯t touch it¡­the paperwork. Thought I forgot, didn¡¯t ya?¡±


    They passed it over, with a pen.


    ¡°PID form for a magical disappearance involving the Fae. Just needs a signature there at the bottom ¨C even though it¡¯s related to you, they want you to sign off. As far as the government¡¯s concerned that Archive of yours is worth more than the rest of us combined ¨C not that Beatrice here is happy about it, eh?¡±


    Her frown deepened as Mordo leaned up, sinuously, against her chair.


    ¡°The PID?¡±


    ¡°Paranormal Incidents Division. You¡¯ve seen Men in Black, right? Shit, if that was before your time I¡¯m getting old. Anyway ¨C they¡¯re like that. Cover shit up, help the normies ignore magic, keep the peace, preserve national security¡­yadda yadda yadda. They might not like how independent we are, but nobody wants all this shit to go fully public. There¡¯s a reason so much of humanity ignores it.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t even asked for help yet. This ¨C it was all out of hand. I just wanted to get home and sleep off whatever this was. I could already feel the migraine building up as I passed the papers back.


    ¡°Good enough for government work. Now, time to get to the fucking meeting, almost two damn hours late!¡±


    ¡­fuck.

 Reconnecting - Three

    Reconnecting Three


    The structure was a bit too large for the title of cabin, a bit too small to be a mansion or manor. The most accurate term probably would¡¯ve been to call it a lodge. It was fitting, too; after all, it was used by Hunters. Their targets, though, were rarely anything less than sapient.


    The building sat empty most of the time. An old contract with the spirits of the surrounding forest kept it hidden. The path to its doors opened only for the order that used it as a base. For them, the distant hall that others could only catch glimpses of through twisting shrouds of mist was a riot of light, if not of life. Inside its walls they would always find succor and shelter, well-tended flames and warm food just waiting for them to relax should they really, truly need it. It was a perk that few ever took advantage of, but it was nevertheless available.


    Today, the nameless sanctuary had seen two separate visitors arrive. They were an odd pair, by any standard.


    The woman had arrived first, six feet tall and clad in a duster that hid all but the lower part of her boots. When it flapped open as she moved, an arsenal was revealed. The weapons within were strapped everywhere that they would fit. A shotgun rested at one hip, a viciously serrated dagger at the other. On one thigh was a cross surrounded by the symbols of myriad religions. A stake was lashed to one shoulder, while an antique pistol hung beneath it. More things, only questionably weapons, filled the pockets within the coat.


    A long black ponytail snaked out from under the battered fedora whose brim was adorned with runes that glinted in the fire¡¯s twisting light. She was nursing a chipped cup of tea across from her companion.


    Where the woman might have had an aura of danger to those who looked, he had one of cool certainty. His clothes were nothing of note, perhaps a bit more modern than one would expect from someone with visibly greying hair. The jeans had a few grass stains on them and a rip around the knee, while his shirt had the logo of one the innumerable hard rock bands where the words were impossible to read. He didn¡¯t have any weapons visible, nor did he have any true distinctive features. The closest would be a set of branching lines just barely visible along his neck, the tracery vanishing under his shirt and reappearing along his arms. They would shift, ever so slightly, every time the woman blinked.


    He had asked her to sit for tea. It wasn¡¯t her favorite drink, but she would always compromise for a fellow Hunter. The two had met before and she knew he wouldn¡¯t ¨C and couldn¡¯t ¨C drink the booze she preferred.


    Both were sitting on the edges of their sinfully comfortable seats, arranged around a firepit that rose in a circle of carved stone above the floor. The log inside it never seemed to shrink as it burned. Between them was the hanging kettle, a beat-up old thing they had used to brew the leaves themselves. Neither had touched the banquet laid out for them by the place¡¯s caretakers, nor had they left the entry hall.


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    They spoke of pleasantries while they rested and drank. A third cup of their brew sat near the fire, in front of an unused seat. Occasionally it would rise up and drain in time with their sips, but the two didn¡¯t respond.


    After all, they had catching up to do. His granddaughter was just starting preschool and her little brother had landed a job in a tech company. Her mother-in-law was enjoying retirement and his cat was happier for him to be gone than he was. Occasionally, they would direct questions to the air around the third cup. There was never a response ¨C not one anyone would hear, at least ¨C but they would nod anyway. Sometimes with a laugh.


    Eventually, they ran out of personal talk and turned to gossip. Nothing risqu¨¦, simply sharing what they¡¯d heard of the others lately. Jeremiah had started tracking a Wendigo last month. Maria was thinking of retiring and moving to Florida ¨C people just ignored magic there in Florida, it was easy. Joseph had broken his leg bad enough that the healers refused to let him out of their clinic for a month, so Martin had taken over the watch at Vigil¡¯s End.


    Finally, they ran out of topics. The tea should have been finished long before then, but the cups only ran dry as the gossip did.


    The fire and the banquet vanished into mist as the lit and heated lodge faded away around them. They were left sitting on pedestals of stone around a cold and empty circle of scorched and scattered stones. Only the stand and the teakettle were left where the flames had been, and they weren¡¯t there long before the man packed them up again. The woman was giving a polite nod to what now stood where the third teacup had been.


    The Ivory Stag, its flesh long-since scoured clean, dipped its head in acknowledgement before trotting back into the field of bones that stood around them. It vanished into the mist between blinks as the two of them finally relaxed. With the ritual done and their patron placated, they could get to work.


    Ahead of them, deeper into the clearing, stood the dark and squat lodge that was the true sanctuary. The Stag maintained it ¨C as best a being of its temperament could ¨C but did little else for those that respected its graveyard. What it craved most was news and gossip of those who would one day be buried within its domain, whether in body or in spirit. For now, the two entered their order¡¯s founding house and began to make it livable again.


    They had a meeting to prepare for ¨C a rare gathering of nearly their entire order.


    A fixture of the world, even older than their skeletal patron, had passed on, in mysterious circumstances. The loss left behind a vacuum, devoid of the standards once enforced by the old power. Things long buried had begun to worm their way back to the light and an untrained waif sat upon that vacant throne with far too much knowledge and power within reach.


    Her twin, some say, was already missing, and that was a grave, grave warning. Through long-buried oaths and pacts, it was their job to step in if the Council failed or overreached. They were the Keepers of the Ivory Grave, the sworn protectors of the Pacific Northwest. Sworn to the Stag and dedicated to protection of mortals and the end of evil, their order had the weight to step in and fill the vacuum, if only they used it. Be they monsters or men ¨C practitioners less moral than the old monster that nurtured them in their infancy, those who profaned their gifts and abandoned their humanity, would know peace in the Stag¡¯s graveyard. Forever.


    Her estranged mother would fight tooth and nail to preserve her own power. Deep in her bones, Amanda Belmont knew that her and her lovable, responsible heretic of an older brother would find things hidden from the light when they returned. The thought made her smile, viciously, until her mentor stopped it cold by handing her a mop.


    She hated this part.

 Reconnecting - Four

    Reconnecting Four


    Today was not a good day for Reginald Spronck the Third, warding specialist on tenure with the PID. His job was to provide security at one of their primary Earth-side storage sites. All the arrays were functioning perfectly, as far as he could tell. Even the one that he hadn¡¯t made ¨C and barely knew how to maintain ¨C that filled the deepest portion of the base. They were layered around the luxurious suite of rooms holding the single most dangerous prisoner on Earth.


    And that was the problem; all of them said there was nothing wrong. He could see, very clearly, that something that might end his career was happening. In the scrying pool in front of him ¨C itself a violation of several regulations despite being run through three airgapped divinatory arrays in sequence ¨C he saw two solid beings. There should¡¯ve been a cloud of swirling mist and profane symbols. It congealing would have been an anomaly, but one well documented and accounted for even if it shouldn¡¯t have taken that form when contained.


    That was the intended occupant.


    The second figure was the real problem. It was a Faerie, one of the Ashen Court if he had to guess. The Spronck practitioner wasn¡¯t well acquainted with their kind, but his wards should have stopped ¨C or at least inconvenienced ¨C any of the Fae who regularly interfered with the mortal world. If he couldn¡¯t even detect this one¡­


    One of them meeting with the contained entity was both above his paygrade and terrifying enough that he hadn¡¯t even smashed the alarms yet. He knew that he¡¯d be blamed for this. It didn¡¯t matter that there were maybe a thousand practitioners world-wide that could stop an un-weakened noble Faerie ¨C he was the one in charge of security when it happened. So he sat there, watched, and decided to break another regulation.


    He couldn¡¯t dig this hole any deeper if he tried.


    The two beings were clearly talking. Listening in was even more against protocol than watching ¨C but a similar protection to the scrying pool should work. Combined with his own mental wards, he was confident he could get something useful out of it. Maybe enough to bargain for leniency when this got reported. He really, really wanted to stay free and not get sent through the wards to join that loosely defined ¡®asset¡¯ of an entity. He¡¯d seen what happened there.


    It wasn¡¯t much of a secret what was actually inside ¨C mostly because there was no point hiding something that people would forget on their own ¨C but he wanted nothing to do with something that they¡¯d had to contract Olaf Aufrey to contain.


    No, what was secret enough that he wouldn¡¯t be allowed to go free after screwing up was that the U.S. government had one of the strongest known Demons locked inside one of their blacksites and was using it to erase memories.


    Reginald was the poor bastard left to watch as one of the Fair Folk met with Merith, of the Fourth Line of Loss. The aural component of his scrying spell went live as he started to shake.


    The two monsters were hugging when he did. As they pulled apart, the Fae started to speak. All he caught were the words ¡®Aufrey¡¯ and ¡®trial¡¯. Both of their voices were like whispers on the wind, but only one set his mental defenses screaming as parts of their conceptual strength vanished.


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    That one was the Demon.


    He had to cast something to boost his hearing. He had to hear. They were talking about¡­


    ¡­he blinked and realized he didn¡¯t know what they¡¯d been talking about, or where the Faerie had gone, or even that he was now staring directly into the Demon¡¯s eyes with his jaw hanging open. Everything between turning on the sound and now was just gone. So were the protections meant to preserve his memory.


    Not that he remembered enough to worry about that.


    ¡°My current warden, I presume. Such a downgrade.¡± The words crackled in Reginald¡¯s ears. ¡°Some things are private, little mage, and not for you to remember.¡±


    As he was speaking, alarms finally started to scream throughout the base, jolting the practitioner out of his daze. His wards ¨C according to the mental diagram that streamed their status to him ¨C had just collapsed across half the facility. The feedback of it hurt. The knowledge that his entire world was collapsing around him hurt worse.


    That, he wasn¡¯t allowed to forget. Merith laughed at him, from his seat on an armchair fancier than anything the practitioner or his family had ever owned. ¡°Of course, she won¡¯t let herself be forgotten that easily. Ash has always been loath to do so, their trueborn moreso than the rest. But that¡¯s not for you to know either, yet.¡±


    The man¡¯s face went slack for a moment before the panic resumed like nothing had happened. He was just missing a few words ¨C his mind could fill in the gap.


    A few words would be enough, the Demon decided. ¡°You¡¯re in quite a lot of trouble, it seems. I could help, for a small price.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d never¡­¡±


    The Demon¡¯s grin cut into a grim line across the face made of wrapped strips of pallid flesh. Harsh words, it would be.


    ¡°Bluster doesn¡¯t suit you. Your work is sub-par, at best, and you are a coward at heart. You still remember what you did that night, when you left her to suffer. Who are you to claim the strength to deny me, Reginald Spronck. The fool? The accessory? The failed brother.¡±


    There. The hook was dangling.


    The man¡¯s eyes twitched and he started to shake. ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°You knew what was happening and let it. Your job was more important than her mind and body.¡±


    The words cut deep and sent flashbacks to the night Reginald had had a chance to stop what happened to his sister. To the lies and weakened practice, to what led him here. How his family refused to meet his eyes anymore and how everything he¡¯d thrown away would be for nothing when his superiors heard about this. How¡­


    Perfect. It was set into his memories now. Merith reached out through the pool of water, brushing aside its protections to touch the shivering man.


    ¡°I can let you forget. I can make them forget.¡±


    It felt like the Demon¡¯s hand, so far away, was cradling his face as the first tears fell.


    ¡°Your wards will have held through all of this if only you agree. You¡¯ll be the hero. You can forget the shame, forget the failure. Maybe you¡¯ll even have patched the work of Aufrey that kept me in here. All of it can be yours.¡±


    The promises and the bait, now.


    Reginald Spronck slumped down, falling to the ground and still seeing the Demon behind his eyes. Between sobs, he choked out, ¡°W-what do you want?¡±


    ¡°Nothing of substance, little mage, only Names. Whisper one into a missing ear, the second into the hungry dark. The third to the dawning of the year, the fourth to a dog that does not bark. A fifth to the pale-boned deer, a sixth to a girl that dwells beneath inky leaves and undead bark. The seventh let no one hear, for it will leave a horrid mark.¡±


    The Demon grinned. Human priorities were so simple. Look at what they wanted to remember and what they craved to lose. Pull a few threads, sample a few memories, and they were putty. Detestable as some specimens were, others had potential. And with his old friend¡¯s news, Merith had decided to end his vacation and make some plans.


    ¡°Do we have a deal?¡±


    Really, the answer had never been in doubt.

 Chapter Ten - Tammy

    Chapter Ten - Tammy


    My eyes drifted shut halfway through Mordo¡¯s rant about procedural shit. When I opened them, the room was empty and dim. I was sprawled out on a futon, a thick purple blanket draped across me. A strip beneath the bar was the only light, softly buzzing at the edge of my hearing. My head didn¡¯t hurt anymore ¨C and boy was that a surprise.


    Maybe they¡¯d helped me sleep it off?


    There were two notes on the closest table, next to a bowl of glistening fruit. One in the same scrawl as Mordo¡¯s invitation, and one in neat loops and elaborate flourishes.


    ¡°Hey Thing One, thanks for giving me an excuse to cut shit short. I know the Boss¡¯s hangovers can get bad ¨C trust me, it was easier to let you sleep it off. Back door¡¯s next to the bar, but there¡¯s usually an acolyte or two up top if you need something. Good luck getting Thing Two back, but we will not help you with the Fae. Boss has a hard rule on that, and I¡¯m not gonna fuck us over. Fruit¡¯s fresh from our horn of plenty, and feel free to call if you need a break from the doom and gloom to party.¡±


    They¡¯d signed it with a lipstick print. And under it, another line.


    ¡°By the way. Don¡¯t Threaten My People Again.¡±


    Water and an apple washed the fuzz of sleep from my mouth before I grabbed the second letter.


    ¡°As you are indisposed at the moment of writing, I can only wish you well. What follows is a small gift, in recognition of services performed by your grandfather. I hope it shall prove helpful, and that you shall think of myself and my Pride should you require support going forward. As heir to the Aufrey legacy, you are in a delicate position moving forward, one which we would be honored to aid.¡±


    Below it was a neat list of contact information and a book title. The Biers of Immortals.


    My stomach twisted as I realized that one was from Alara.


    I made note of the back door nestled in a tidy alcove along an alley, set into a building that didn¡¯t even seem attached to the main bar. Interesting. Next time ¨C I¡¯d just skip the line.


    The drive home, now that I was rested, was interesting. I started to see faint runes in the gravel the moment I left the main road ¨C growing thicker and brighter as I hit the driveway and made my way through the trees. When I made it out into the clearing, the weathervane angel atop the roof turned to watch me. An ethereal overlay added more features and an ominous black sphere cupped in its hands.


    That explained a bit about why delivery drivers could never find us ¨C and why they¡¯d just¡­left the letters. It didn¡¯t excuse it. But I had the feeling that that thing might be incredibly dangerous. Nothing black that left an afterimage was safe.


    There was a thin layer of ash under the bracelet that washed off in the shower. I stepped out to come face to face with Scully, before I¡¯d even grabbed my towel.


    ¡°Lady Blackleaf, a message from the Paranormal Incidents Division has just arrived. A transcribed copy of it and the previous missives has been made available for your perusal upon request.¡±


    ¡°Um, okay? Put them on my desk if they¡¯re important. And Scully? Could you try not to bother me when I¡¯m not dressed? It¡¯s distracting.¡±


    I kept talking as I toweled off and found the bracelet was back in my hair. This time, I just left it there.


    ¡°Apologies, Lady Blackleaf. Preferences updated; I will no longer appear or speak while you lack clothing.¡±


    Good enough ¨C and probably the best I¡¯d get. ¡°Oh! And could you bring me a copy of The Biers of Immortals?¡±


    The mirror stayed blank even once I had a shirt on, but her voice echoed out anyway. ¡°Will there be anything else?¡±


    ¡°Not that I can think of. Just tell me if something weird happens, or get me if you need something. I trust you to handle everything else. Oh, and Scully? Thank you.¡±


    ¡°It¡­it is no trouble, Lady Blackleaf.¡±


    ~-~-~


    ¡°While I am young, by the standards of Immortals, the ennui that stills our souls has begun to reach me. So, I turn my pen towards the task of writing of our biers; the pedestals upon which those of us that have seized immortality sit upon and rot.


    As many of you may know ¨C I have just seen the dawning of my second century. I have aged not a day since long before my home rebelled against the King. Everything I have ever loved ¨C each and every one of my friends and kin ¨C has withered and died before my eyes. My children¡¯s children¡¯s children have come and gone from this world and on to fates outside of our unseen domains, and I am forgotten. It is a story as old as humanity, perhaps older still.


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    Immortality is as varied as the beings one may find upon the Earth, within the Wood, or trotting the infinite Roads. What few realize before they have irrevocably set themselves onto this path is that, without exception, it is inseparable from loss. One born mortal cannot live beyond their years without sacrifice. To disconnect ourselves from the flows of time, we must lose an anchor. We come unmoored from everything that has ever grounded us. To survive past our second centuries, and become something or someone remembered, we must have a passion. Something that staves off lethargy and makes us more than preserved corpses held in state for the world to look upon our follies.


    For those blessed from birth with immortality, that passion is a base part of their psyche. A need to hunt, to build, or to collect as just a few examples. An indelible portion of their being that, if missing or lost, leads them to wither on the vine. For us mortals, we are shaped in the change by what resonates most strongly within us. To delve into knowledge lost and unlearned, to feel the joys of creation, plague your enemies for generations, or steer your descendants. To achieve and to experience. These are the things that keep immortals tethered to existence, rather than driving deeper and deeper into a fading routine that heralds the birth of a new spirit.


    At the core, these needs are all the same. As exemplified by the oldest immortals, those who remember the birth of the stars and saw as the first of man reached out to Flame, the quest is for sensation. Novelty and excitement, memories and experiences outside of what¡¯s known. The Fae, as frustratingly ill-defined as their courts may be when it comes to their desires, subsist on such. To bargain with them, the unique is what you must offer. Among the ancient legends that still walk this world, the same holds true.


    In the remainder of this volume, several well-documented figures of history are compared. Those whose journeys are mirrors to each other, yet where one remained while the other faded. Those slain before their time, as well as the more mysterious of our kind, will not be discussed. Nor, to the undoubted disappointment of many readers, will my mentor¡¯s history be examined. The Lord Blackleaf¡¯s history shall remain a mystery, if you will pardon the rhyme, because he wishes it so. Olaf taught me nigh on everything I know, and not once did he force me down any path. I have sworn to never break his confidence, and this oath I stand by, or else let me be Forsworn.¡±


    There was more to the leatherbound pamphlet, but I had a feeling that what the matriarch had meant was there. I had to get something unique and special, beyond what Teresa was to them. It was¡­it was daunting.


    In small text beneath the author¡¯s name, there was a publisher¡¯s mark. London, 1935. But the writer had been talking about Olaf. That was grandpa. There was no way he was that old, right? But the Sphinx said she was centuries old, and she called him a role model¡­


    ¡°Scully?¡± I took a sip from the golden goblet that made water taste like fruity tv static that she¡¯d brought me when I asked. It weighed far too little for its size, and never ran empty. ¡°How old was grandpa?¡±


    ¡°Clarify?¡±


    ¡°How old was Lord Blackleaf, my grandfather?¡±


    There was silence for a few long seconds, like she was ignoring me.


    ¡°Information not found.¡±


    That was absolutely not a comforting answer.


    <hr>


    A phone call, several hours of reading, and a quick outfit change later, I pulled up to a gated community on the far edge of town. Marble walls that might not even be fake stretched into the sky, hiding the Grecian houses inside from everywhere but the golden metal gate out front. Atop them, bronze spikes glittered with magic in the evening sun.


    ¡°State your name and business,¡± a deep, feminine voice that was as much a purr as anything else came from the buzzer, crystal clear.


    ¡°Tamara Aufrey. I¡¯m here for a meeting.¡±


    A rumble of acknowledgement. Then, ¡°You may enter. The matriarch is in the main building. Trust me - you cannot miss it."


    That was obvious. The four-story mansion loomed over the screen of trees and fencing that blocked off the inner street from the outer one. The gates slid apart, retracting into the walls rather than swinging. As I drove through, there were no cars parked on the street. Most of the houses had garages and large front doors. There was nobody out and walking, but the curtains on several houses shifted as I drove by. It was too bright to tell if there were glowing eyes like Alara¡¯s inside.


    There was a colonnade across from the center of the compound, surrounding a giant sunken pool and an artificial beach that looked far, far out of place. Lounging on the rocky cliffs at one end and in the shade of the trees, were all manner of sphinxes. Their coats ran the gamut from a deep chestnut to a single woman with frosty blue fur. Most, though, were the same pale gold as Alara. There were a few normal people swimming along with them.


    I kept my eyes turned away after I parked. So many of them were topless. I did not need to be distracted right now.


    I hesitated at the doors. Was that really a lions-head knocker? Wasn¡¯t that a bit¡­


    It opened before I could touch it or finish that thought. Instead of Alara, a girl that looked my age answered. She seemed human enough; long red hair, green eyes, pale skin. No fur and no pointed teeth behind her smile. She also wasn¡¯t wearing very much ¨C just a tank top long enough to make it unclear if she had on short shorts or just wasn¡¯t wearing pants.


    It was, uh, a look.


    ¡°Hi! You must be Tammy ¨C I¡¯m Alyssa! Come on in, Mom¡¯s up in the study and it¡¯s my job to make sure you don¡¯t walk into something you shouldn¡¯t and get your brain fried again.¡±


    She gestured for me to follow her, in the process bashing her hand into the doorframe. A garbled mess of what I assumed were curses came out of her mouth as water dripped down the doorframe and her body shifted.


    She was still mostly human, but closer to Alara. Reddish fur, a few shades lighter than her hair, covered everything below her face and blood-red wings poked through holes in the back of her top. Which had noticeably deflated in front.


    ¡°Damn it. Stupid illusion always drops when that happens. It¡¯s supposed to be surprise that¡­¡± Her frown was, somehow, still cute even with teeth clearly meant to rip through flesh. ¡°Ugh, I wanted to keep it going too. See how long it took for you to realize I wasn¡¯t just a regular old boring human.¡±


    ¡°Are¡­¡±


    She flung out a hand and her claws stopped inches from my face. ¡°Whoa, hold it there. No questions.¡±

 Chapter Eleven - Teresa

    Chapter Eleven - Teresa


    The air was still when the boar finally died. My ragged, heaving breaths barely made a sound after the echoes of my scream had faded. It was just me, nearly doubled over as I pushed the spear deeper and the corpse¡¯s hot blood dripped down onto my hands.


    The clapping broke the quiet. It was slow at first, building up to a crescendo as I opened my eyes. The Fae stood ahead of me, a semicircle at the mouth of the ravine. Their mouths were open in predatory grins, teeth just a shade too pointed and perfect to be Human bared to the wind. Laughter started as they met my eyes, it and their voices bouncing around the circle.


    ¡°It seems our elder knew best, once again.¡±


    ¡°A tool it may be, but one with some use left in it.¡±


    ¡°To think that a weapon was all it needed to give us a proper show!¡±


    ¡°Such theatre, too. What a stage! Truly, the work of the Grower.¡±


    ¡°¡¯tis a pity that it didn¡¯t last. Mortal work crumbles all too quickly.¡±


    ¡°A repeat is in order, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    One raised a hand, and the others turned to look. His ¨C and he looked distinctly masculine compared to the others ¨C grin was tighter, just quirked lips and appraising eyes. He¡¯d thrown the first spear as they took me, and his voice had a depth to it that the others lacked.


    ¡°No need to hurry, my friends. Even tools cannot see constant use. Why, we wouldn¡¯t want to break our new plaything just yet.¡±


    Almost sadistic, even if there was no overt malice as he went on.


    ¡°We should let it claim its trophy, now. Then we should share our good fortune. It can hardly be the new sensation if we don¡¯t let it be seen.¡±


    He kept his eyes on me as the others looked away, words bouncing between them fast enough that I could barely follow that dissolved into a sibilant cascade of tittering laughter.


    ¡°Ooh, we should have a proper ball! A banquet! It¡¯s been weeks!¡±


    ¡°Shall we invite the others of Ash?¡±


    ¡°Why limit ourselves?¡±


    ¡°And what of entertainment? A lacking ball simply won¡¯t do.¡±


    ¡°One of my other pets has quite a talent for music. I know some scions of Summer that might loan us theirs for the proper atmosphere.¡±


    ¡°I bartered for a gaggle of Autumn¡¯s rejects a handful of centuries ago. One broken philosopher for a cadre of mutes; they should suffice for proper service.¡±


    ¡°Spring will beg to come as soon as they hear. They could¡­¡±


    The masculine one shook his head and the others fell silent with what might have been irritation flickering across their faces.


    ¡°Nay, an event such as theirs can come later. We wouldn¡¯t want our prize soiled ¨C a master¡¯s product deserves some dignity. There¡¯s no need to test the limits of our oaths when we have all the time across the worlds. If Spring is to come their tithe must be something more tangible. There shan¡¯t be time just yet for something custom.¡±


    ¡°Oh! They could grovel!¡±


    Just like that the emotion passed and they were smiling again, none stealing more than glances at me. All except the man who hadn¡¯t looked away or blinked.


    ¡°It¡¯s settled then. Do tell our lovely cousins that this will be the first of many, if you would.¡± He tapped a finger against his lower lip. Even from dozens of feet away I could hear it, an unnaturally loud clink. The sound of glass striking glass. ¡°Let us begin, say, when the day of its world turns. I¡¯ll prune our shrinking violet into something more presentable.¡±


    A chorus of affirmatives rang out and most of them vanished, instantly. Only he stayed. His glowing eyes, the color of wet ashes, finally slid up to meet mine as his grin faded into something that I would¡¯ve said was thoughtful on a Human. On him, it was like he was deciding how best to take me apart and put me back together.


    ¡°Go on then, Seedling. Some traditions must be observed even among beasts and toys. You slew your foe, so now you claim your prize.¡±


    I didn¡¯t move.


    Honestly, I wasn¡¯t sure if it was safe to.


    They¡¯d tried to kill me. Or at least, let loose things that were trying to kill me. One should have, would have, if they hadn¡¯t stopped it. It didn¡¯t matter that the scars had faded during the next chase; I could still feel the rocks digging into my back, the sizzling burn where its drool had hit me, that awful stench of rotten meat that wafted from its jaws. Even though my arm somehow moved normally I could still feel an echo of the pain from when every single bone in my shoulder splintered just from its weight.


    It didn¡¯t matter that they¡¯d healed me between; I¡¯d been unconscious. They weren¡¯t nice. There was no way he was being serious, it had to be another joke or test. I hadn¡¯t beaten them in anything, hadn¡¯t done anything exceptional. I¡¯d barely even survived this one; I¡¯d probably even cheated when the Lady talked to me. People in fairy tales never got off easy from that and I was holding a spear that was in no way, shape, or form something I¡¯d made.


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    So I just stood there poised to run, holding tight to the spear that was still embedded inside the boar¡¯s corpse. He, apparently, found that funny.


    ¡°I know you have ears, toy, and your eyes clearly function. Perhaps your brain is yet to grow in? Or your tongue, for all it wagged earlier.¡± He tilted his head and laughed. It was a harsh sound, completely unlike the others. A cross between a crow choking on a piece of carrion and stones grinding together. The smile he put on after that was even creepier than what the other Fae had worn. ¡°Time is limitless. My patience¡­¡±


    I blinked. He was in front of me.


    ¡°¡­is not.¡±


    I jerked back on reflex. There was only a moment of resistance before the spear followed with a wet shunk. Its tip sliced cleanly through the skull before leaning vaguely in the Faerie¡¯s direction as I tried to scramble back and away. The second it did, the smile disappeared and he moved. A hand tore it from my grasp and flung it to the side where it sank several feet into the wall. Before I¡¯d even started to process the frictional burning in my hands, his other was at my throat.


    It wasn¡¯t touching me. His fingers were almost three inches from my skin and just barely visible when I tried to look down. My neck wouldn¡¯t move, though, and I could feel something cold and hard pressing down on my throat. Not forceful enough to hurt, but enough to make taking anything more than a shallow breath difficult.


    The same invisible pressure was on my wrists, too. My skin was dimpling like it was being squeezed, but whatever was doing it couldn¡¯t have been a hand. A looser hold, like the air itself was pressing in against me. Lighter than the vice at my throat, still not getting into anything I could call actual pain. Just discomfort and mounting anxiety that left me lightheaded as I felt myself lift from the ground to get to his eye level.


    He let me hang there, gasping in just enough air to function, for a few long seconds before speaking.


    ¡°Now now, Seedling, don¡¯t mistake tradition for restraint. You are mine and you will not forget that. Raise your hand at me again and you¡¯ll beg for something as final as an ending.¡±


    His eyes were glowing like the others had been. Unlike theirs, his weren¡¯t completely static. For a single heartbeat, colors swirled inside them, something magical that went beyond what I¡¯d seen with the Sight. They felt achingly familiar, dredging up memories that made the fluttering thing that I could still feel watching through my eyes turn away. Whatever it was blurred through my mind too quickly to see, leaving nothing but those roiling colors and a wave of dejection and regret.


    The Fae¡¯s face twisted a few seconds before he dropped me. That much was clear even through the tears welling up alongside the foreign emotions that oozed from of the spot in my chest where my ¨C my friend from the ritual had touched me.


    I hit the ground with a puff of ash and sucked in as much air as I could. A wheezing fit and the accompanying burn in my throat and chest were what pulled me out of my own head and the cloying, cold, foreign depression. The ice slowly faded from my veins as the distance presence either calmed down or pulled back its feelings. When my eyes cleared up, I watched the last of my coughs send a cloud of dull silvery powder flying out.


    There were no words or actions from the Faerie as I wiped my mouth off and tried to get my heartbeat back to something normal. He just stood there; feet planted squarely between the two pools of blueish blood that had dripped from the boar. One came from the edges of the hole where a stake had pierced it, the other dripped from its mouth and rolled down from me. Not a single droplet of it, nor any speck of ash, had clung to his boots.


    He didn¡¯t even seem to have broken the crust of it on the ground.


    From this angle on the ground, a single tusk was perfectly framed against the backdrop of the sky at the end of the ravine. It sparkled in the faint light, colorless and crystalline. Even transparent as it was, it had the faintest similarity to what had been behind the Faerie¡¯s eyes. I screwed my eyes shut as soon as that registered but no rush of foreign emotions came through this time. My friend either didn¡¯t care or wasn¡¯t looking.


    There was a long sigh and then a wet crunch followed by the sound of rending metal.


    ¡°A visual choice then? How novel. Shame that it was so predictable, though. Even a hollow mortal is wont to take glitter over substance, I suppose.¡±


    There was a pause and a snap. Scraping and tapping and a sound like ripping paper overlapped softer words. They were almost nostalgic. ¡°The material is¡­passable. A hollow remnant of a greater past laid low by violence; how fitting for a weapon¡¯s first trophy. Perhaps your choice was adequate after all, Seedling, delayed though it was.¡±


    I was starting to push myself up to my hands and knees, eyes still closed, when he added, ¡°Now, with that done, it¡¯s time to move on.¡±


    He snapped his fingers, this clink closer to a rock being thrown into a window.


    Reality twisted.


    A burst of unnamable colors flashed behind my eyelids while the ground wavered and vibrated. For an eternal instant the world itself seemed to crush in around me, stretching and pulling me into shapes that weren¡¯t physically possible. Then I snapped back. The ground shifted. I collapsed again, my muscles like jelly and my stomach lurching. Even with my cheek flat on a cool, smooth floor it felt like I was spinning.


    When I twitched in an attempt to move I noticed the change under me. This was a floor. Level, and far from the bottom of a ravine. The only grit was what had already been clinging to my cheek, and as I flailed around ¨C in what had to be an undignified way ¨C I realized there were no bumps or rocks anywhere. Once I got my eyes open and blinked away the muck, I saw an expanse of deep brown shot through with rings of lighter tan as it spread out.


    Wood.


    An entire floor that seemed to be carved from a single smooth block of it, no boards or joins. Just a smooth expanse of its grain, each ring thicker than I was tall and flowing uninterrupted into the next. The smaller striations I¡¯d seen at first were lighter colored, fading away when I looked at something further than a few feet away and blending into the overall tone of the room. The floor turned into the far wall without any change, though it was as uniform a color as anything here; a rich, unblemished mahogany.


    There was a door in the middle of the wall, the grain on the wood running at a different angle. The table next to it though, matched the walls. It looked like it had been grown straight out of them. The stool in front of it was the same shade as the lighter striations, but disconnected. Above the table was a wide mirror that, from here, just showed the ceiling. It was an exact match for the floor, save for the four spiraling cages that hung down from it. In between the lattice of thin wooden strands that made up each was a white crystal that glowed with a faint, cool light. Somehow, they didn¡¯t crisscross the room with shadows.


    I didn¡¯t think too hard about how there was no way the crystal could¡¯ve fit through the holes in the lattice. It was hardly the weirdest thing I¡¯d dealt with lately, especially since I¡¯d literally just been teleported here. Or something like that.


    If it was teleportation, it sucked.


    The side of the door that didn¡¯t have the table had a few pegs sticking out of the wall at head height. Nothing else I could see stood out from here. Looking around would probably be a good idea, but there was a door. If I could just get to it¡­


    As soon as my arms were steady enough, I pushed myself to my feet. Then I took a few wobbly steps forward and froze. My entire body locked into place. My lips sealed shut even as I tried to scream.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t think I was gone, did you? Are you really so simple that you would think something absent just because you could not immediately see it? Even the Flower you spawned from had more wit.¡±

 Reconnecting - Five

    Reconnecting Five


    There was a table.


    It had been there longer than anyone knew. Sometimes it shifted and changed, but it was always a table.


    Right now, it had four seats. One chair was broken, tipped backwards and shattered on the invisible and immaterial ground. The table, the chairs, and even the shattered pieces ¨C all of it just floated there in a colorless void, untethered from existence. That changed too, sometimes. Not for a very long time, now. Neutrality was best ¨C it had no painful reminders for the visitors.


    That, and they didn¡¯t know what it would¡¯ve looked like. Not anymore.


    They were¡­ they were broken, by and large. No longer bearing Names of their own. Two of the three that were left could function alone. One was even a being of vast renown, with a name that was spoken of the world over in hushed tones. It was still just a name, though ¨C not more than a shred of what they had once been.  The other stable entity was more obscure, called on only rarely by the last of a dying race, and resigned to wallowing in sadness and memory.


    The third was little more than dust and ashes, scraps of a Self that had begun to unravel.


    The meetings had been intended to slow that. They had worked, for a time. The third was more lucid when they came together, even solid for some time afterwards. What memories the others held reinforced their tattered Self and undid some of the damage, but that wasn¡¯t to be anymore. They would have needed the fourth, for that.


    That one was gone now.


    They had no names when they were with each other. No titles, either; they would have been pointless, just as the ancient wars between their peoples had been. They only spoke of each other by numbers, assigned in an order long since forgotten. One sat on a throne of rusted metal and blades. Two sat on simple chair, the wood overgrown with meat that never rotted. Three¡¯s was a simple cushion, floating on its own at the level of the others.


    Four¡¯s ¨C cast down as it was ¨C had been a twisted knot of roots. The tree and its leaves had sheared off long before they came to meet here and none were left, not even any blackened and soulless husks.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The chairs were empty. Then, in a sudden shift, they were filled. Two arrived first, appearing in the flesh-lined throne as if they¡¯d always been there. Their eyes were carefully turned from the chair they¡¯d known would be empty before even arriving. That pain was too fresh and the brief glimpse they had of it set the void into a shivering chorus of screams and blurred violence.


    The neutrality reasserted itself when One arrived, stepping through an immaterial doorway and settling into the throne. The swords protruding from their seat pierced One, but the being didn¡¯t react. There was no blood, nor even a visible wound. Just smooth flesh that shifted as One moved, appearing as if the corroded weapons were natural growths, unanchored to any single point.


    Two began to pour tea from the cracked pot in the center of the table as Three began to coalesce on their own cushion. The liquid was lukewarm, as always, but it was one of the few reminders they truly had left. The leaves didn¡¯t grow anywhere they could reach, yet recreating them was one of the few things that was simple in a place such as this. Here memory had a weight of its own.


    Three¡¯s body was cracked. Thin streams of ashes dripped from the holes riddling their very being. Their very soul had been scoured clean, the wounds that broke them sanded away to save what little survived. No detail and meaning were left, merely the holes and the absence. It was a small mercy, granted by the allies they had embraced too late.


    If Four had joined them, the ash would have ceased. Four had always been the most stable of them. As it was, every moment saw another fragment of Three fade away into the void. They still acted as if they were overjoyed to be there ¨C even with half their jaw gone, they smiled. The tea, floating on a wind of its own into their mouth, dripped out of the hole and slid along several others to stain the cushion. Its true color wasn¡¯t even memorable, anymore.


    ¡°Wonderful as always, friends! We need to wait for Four! Four¡¯s never late!¡±


    The other two weren¡¯t looking forward to this. They had to break the news.


    They did it as gently as they could, but it was too much for Three. First came the denials, then the bargaining. The muffled sobs followed. And then there were the screams as the tattered Self split itself apart even further until their companions realized that if they stayed ¨C one of their last friends would fade away completely.


    For a few moments, the plane was alive with usurped fires that had burned out eons ago, cold flames howling for vengeance against the inevitable and raging against the wars they had lost everything in.


    Then Three slipped back into ashes and peaceful oblivion, waiting to be brought back again at the next meeting.


    Until then, there was a table. And a fallen chair that, unseen, began to crack down the middle.

 Incident Report - Aufrey (#247)

    Paranormal Incidents Division


    Date: May 6<sup>th</sup>, 2017


    To: Director Ross (FOR HER EYES ONLY) Redacted for General Agency Distribution


    Classification: <u>TOP SECRET</u>


    Incident Report: Aufrey (#247)


    Director,


    Earlier today, agents performing a routine document drop to the Alexandrian Initiative site known as the Blackleaf Archive were denied entry by the curator-construct. As you were informed during the events, communications with ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ and reports from informants in the ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ site confirmed that the construct had been ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€.


    Due to the use of the site for the storage of ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€, ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€, ¨€¨€¨€¨€, the ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€, and backup copies of many unclassified government records, this downtime resulted in further investigation at your direction. The results are summarized below, while the methods and assets used are summarized in the addendum attached to this document.


    <ul>


    <li>Near Earth Spaces (N.E.S.) codenamed ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€, ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€, and ¨€¨€¨€¨€ are all stable. Scrying resulted in the usual ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€, suggesting that at least some functions of the custodial construct remain active.


    <ul>


    <li>Follow-up by disposable assets ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ and ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ confirmed such. Total of ¨€¨€ casualties sustained, ¨€ terminated.</li>


    </ul>


    </li>


    <li>Stored documents and artifacts are considered out of reach without a series of extensive expenditures and loss of at least ¨€¨€¨€¨€ personnel.</li>


    <li>The local Council is in disarray; several workings of P.O.I. ¡®Olaf Aufrey¡¯ appear to have collapsed.</li>


    <li>Bindings beneath ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ have weakened, suggesting that the ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ work by P.O.I Aufrey on containing ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ have come undone.</li>


    <li>Multiple seers and oracles reported omens of ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€.</li>


    <li>The Ashen Court has expelled all emissaries, citing that a great loss has occurred and that now is a period of mourning.</li>


    <li>Demonic ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ stored in ¨€¨€¨€¨€ have expressed desires to ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ and pass ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ on to the P.O.I.¡¯s survivors.


    <ul>


    <li>¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€</li>


    </ul>


    </li>


    <li>¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€, compromising ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ and ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€


    <ul>


    <li>¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€</li>


    </ul>


    </li>


    </ul>


    As shown above, all available information points to the death of P.O.I. Aufrey. Current records indicate two potential heirs, Tamara and Teresa. Father unknown, mother ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€, acknowledged in reports ¨€¨€¨€, ¨€¨€¨€, ¨€¨€¨€, ¨€¨€¨€, ¨€¨€¨€-¨€¨€¨€, and ¨€¨€, as ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€. No indications of their involvement in the above events were found, and as of now they appear unaware of the death. At your direction, they have been notified with cover story ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Monitoring will commence with Agent ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ deployed to the area, observing in an effort to discern whether the potential heirs take up their mantles. Wetwork Team ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€-¨€¨€¨€ is on standby at ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€ to serve as a fast-response-force.


    Long-term effects of this event are likely to be significant. Expect follow-up reports in the coming months.

 Chapter Twelve - Tammy

    Chapter Twelve - Tammy


    The claws were as black as the leaves in the Archive, and razor sharp.


    ¡°Seriously, girl. Mom should have gone over this. Or my aunts. Someone really dropped the ball if they didn¡¯t warn you. The older ones can control themselves, but even asking us things is dangerous for someone like you. I¡¯m mostly safe, but if you asked one of the younger kids something it would be bad. If you get screwed with in a way that your guardian-spirit notices¡­well I wouldn¡¯t want to be at ground zero. It might be safe once we teach you or Mom helps you dig some protections out of your vault, but even then it¡¯s just rude.¡±


    I swallowed hard and fell into step behind her as she turned away. It was a long, low room lined with benches and tables covered in board games. Nobody was in here, but it looked well used.


    ¡°First floor¡¯s the common area. Mom cleared everyone out for the visit, but usually the girls that can¡¯t leave the compound relax here when the sun¡¯s down. Basement¡¯s for the younger kids ¨C don¡¯t go there. Upstairs are for my cousins that don¡¯t live outside and me. Mom¡¯s got her study and labs up top with all the other off-limits stuff. There¡¯re stairs, but since not everyone can shift most people use the elevator.¡±


    Once we were there, she flicked her eyes at the gold trim and cloudy mural around the lights.


    ¡°Blegh, I know. Mom insists on the color scheme ¨C says it helps us remember our roots. I think it¡¯s just that she likes making things match her coat.¡±


    I cleared my throat and tried to meet her eyes. They were still green, and with all the red it was out of place. ¡°I guess everyone in town knows me already. You¡¯re not what I expected though.¡±


    ¡°I know! Don¡¯t worry though ¨C I¡¯m not a stalker or anything. Like, you were the Flowering Death¡¯s grandkid, so I knew about you. But Mom gave me a heads up earlier since she wants me to tutor you. She¡¯ll handle those curses, but I¡¯ll be doing the hands-on work.¡±


    Did. Did she just wink at me?


    ¡°I¡¯m not cursed though.¡±


    She pointed at my hands. ¡°Looks close enough to me. I made one of my aunts mad once and ended up with an itchy bald spot right between my wings. For a year! These might be different, but man oh man do they just look like they¡¯re unpleasant if you poke them wrong. Anyway uh, don¡¯t let my mom know I complained, please. And let her know I introduced myself properly, if it comes up. Can¡¯t piss her off or she might stick you with an aunt instead, and they¡¯re no fun. Half of them can¡¯t even work a computer!¡±


    She smiled a little every time I opened my mouth and closed it, since I realized I was about to ask a question. The smile turned forced as the elevator dinged to a stop.


    ¡°Just follow me and you¡¯ll be fine. Mom¡¯s gonna give you the Talk and then we¡¯ll test your affinities.¡±


    That, at least, I knew from the call earlier. I would get teaching, her or her designated representative would get access to the Archive for three hours after each session and permission to check out one book or tome a week for the duration. Scully seemed to think that was fair ¨C apparently the public access was heavily restricted in what you could see ¨C and it was my job to give permission. To do a bunch of other things too, but dragging those out of Scully was like pulling teeth.


    If it was urgent ¨C she¡¯d tell me. Until then? This.


    The study turned out to be a tall room in the corner ¨C taller than it should¡¯ve been. My stomach twisted as I cross the threshold, vision swimming as the window-lined walls snapped into view and the air turned heavy and humid. The ceiling was a crystalline dome, bright sun streaming down through it onto the blooming vines and plants that twined across the shelves and tables to fill the room. Green and red and pink ¨C it looked like the height of spring, not late summer. And most of these plants didn¡¯t look local.


    The matriarch was reclining in her leonine form, leaned against a desk and staring out one of the windows.


    ¡°Welcome, Tamara. This place ¨C I do believe your grandfather found joy in its creation. A passion we once shared, as I rose within the Prides. No matter what concerns you will bear, I hope you shall find a pastime to ground yourself when the rigors of the world come to bear.¡± Her head swung around, eyes dark and contemplative. ¡°Daughter. Sit.¡±


    Alyssa had begun to edge backwards as I sat down, but now she swung stiffly into the second chair facing her mother.


    ¡°Olaf failed you and your sister, deeply. Your education is woefully lacking, so we begin with what magic is. Throughout the ages, mankind has sought to paint it as something other. Those who cannot feel it, cannot understand it, claim it to be a poison. A pox upon the skin of the world, in which mages and their zealously labeled ¡®monsters¡¯ are symptoms of an illness, and they the victims.¡±


    A wave of her hand, and the light dimmed. Around the room, her plants began to glow. Soft blues and greens and splashes of purples and reds. Beneath the physical lights, though, were currents of magic that were brighter still, where the colors cycled and blended together as if they¡¯d been planted for that alone.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Magic exists in everything, from every leaf to every speck of dust. It is intrinsic, and yet fluid. As water cycles and the seas churn, it follows channels and currents through places beyond the reach of mortal kind. Where it grows heavy, life may arise. By degrees, gods, sphinxes, and humans arose. Each of us, every one, will die bereft of magic. Even a mortal, untouched and unaided by any degree of the gift, cannot survive for a full and proper life without it.¡±


    ¡°If you wish, we may delve deeper into philosophy in the future. I have my doubts, however, that you would wish me to wax poetic on the divergence between the old ways and the new. No, Tamara, you are here to learn. Wielding your inheritance as of now will bring naught but strife, and to barter with the eldest folk you must know your own worth.¡±


    She reached out. I resisted the urge to jolt back or lean forward as she lightly tapped a claw on the back of my hand. It tickled as my own mana started to well up, a dark glow that the flows around the plants shied away from. Scarlet welled up around Alyssa, while her mother¡¯s was a multi-hued tapestry of greens and whites and browns. Only hers mingled with the plants.


    ¡°You could be the kind to call down the sky upon your enemies, I feel. Perhaps you would bring the wrath of the Earth upon them for breaking laws forgotten outside the halls of your Archive. Drown them with contracted mages eager for a scrap of your power. Where your path leads, only you can decide; yet the base of it all rests on what fate saw fit to bless you with.¡±


    Slowly, she opened a drawer. She placed a golden lattice onto the desk, wrought wires laying out cradles that she began to fill with egg-shaped, dull, stones. The magic retreated from her hands as she handled them with just her claws. There were etchings on each, so fine that I could barely see. A diamond of eight took form, set around a larger stone in the center that every cradle sprang from. Trailing gold linked to two smaller diamonds of four, off to the side, each with their own central stone.


    ¡°Proper elemental theory is something I will expect you to study in your own time. For now¡­¡±


    I raised a hand as the numbers clicked. She made a ¡®go on¡¯ gesture.


    ¡°You¡¯re talking about the Sixteen and the Three, right?¡± I tensed as I realized I¡¯d just asked a question, but aside from a laconic flick of her eyes to her daughter nothing happened. ¡°I recognize the pattern here.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Very good. If you would be so kind, demonstrate.¡±


    I ticked them off, trying to remember the pattern and how they¡¯d gone around.


    ¡°The book said terminology changed often, so it might be outdated. But uh¡­¡± I started pointing, not quite wanting to touch the stones if she hadn¡¯t told me to yet. ¡°Light, or Life, or Spirit with the uh, radiant quartet around it. Wood, Scourge, Lightning, Flesh.¡±


    Another nod, and a wave of her hand. I moved to the four points of the main diamond, the same arrangement as the ritual in the Roads had been. I froze for a second as tears threatened to well up at the reminder. I grit my teeth and took a deep breath, ignoring the laconic pulse of heat in my branded palm that Alara seemed to watch with lidded eyes. Then I pushed through.


    ¡°The prime quartet: Earth, Fire, Air, and Water. Between them the para quartet. Magma, Desiccation, Ice, and Ooze.¡±


    She waved a hand. ¡°Passable. Continue.¡±


    My fingers curled as I remembered the feel of a knife digging into my palm. I skipped the central crystal and moved to the last.


    ¡°Darkness, Death, Body¡­the book didn¡¯t settle on what it was, just that it was a counterpart to the other and the center of the umbral quartet. Bone, Ash, Shadow, Decay.¡±


    Alara smiled. All lips, no teeth. ¡°I see you have been using your time as well as you could. As you said ¨C language changes. Perhaps you will find other words for them, schools of thought where different aspects are emphasized foremost. Yet so long as you retain the knowledge that magic is not so cut and dried as to fully exclude anything, that through mediation and effort even the very nature of mana can shift, the system is a useful touchstone.¡±


    ¡°I will assume you have at least a base knowledge of each individual nature. So, you should understand that you will likely possess a primary affinity that calls strongly to your being, and smaller resonances that nuance it. As an Aufrey, I expect significant gifts.¡±


    Her smile grew thin and pained as she tapped each stone in turn with a manicured nail. They lit up in a rainbow of shades and impossible glows, save for the centermost. There, her hand lingered above what I remembered reading about. The one ¡®Element¡¯ in total balance, that no living thing fully rejected, yet that few would ever lean towards or exploit. The domain of the soul and the self. I already knew what color it would be, even when she pulled her hand back and left it unlit.


    ¡°Remember, Tamara. There is no inherent wrong or right to one¡¯s being. Those born of Shadow and Ash might excel at bringing ruin, yet the nature of their gifts should not condemn them. Assigning such things beyond control to good and evil has ever led to disaster and heartbreak, and yet the world insists upon doing so.¡±


    She sighed, and it came out as a hissing, reverberating sound that did not match up with the image of a mostly-normal woman. ¡°Touch each stone, please. The more intense the glow, the stronger it resonates. I hope, for your own sake, that you are not quite as¡­gifted as your grandfather and my lost children once were.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t ominous at all. I couldn¡¯t help but notice that Alyssa stiffened at that last part, and I made a mental note to never bring it up.


    Just like with the giant gemstone when Scully was teleporting me around, I let the light inside me float up to the surface. It was already so close, from whatever the sphinx had done, but it took that last bit of effort to bring it into my fingers. The first stone I touched went dark, or close enough that it might as well have been. Ironic ¨C since it was Light¡¯s.


    Wood was next. The glow in it flickered for a moment, then flared into a stable green. That meant¡­ nature, and things that grew.


    Flesh was next, that same strange flicker, and if anything a brighter glow. Peachy pink, twinkling like an LED was inside the smooth stone. That was the other half of living things. The meat and the motion.


    Fire. Dimmer, a flickering, mesmerizing orange that never seemed to settle down.


    Bone. Just like the clawing pillar in the black room. It even had the same not-quite-light as the things there, a different kind of glowing black than what was under my skin. It was ¡®brighter¡¯ than the one for Fire, but not as much as Flesh. Animation, imbuement, things that used to live, or never had.


    One by one, the rest returned to the inscribed grey ovoids. There was just one left, there in the center.


    I hadn¡¯t even touched it when the room turned red.

 Reconnecting - Six

    Reconnecting Six


    The letter came as a surprise, several times over, as it arrived upon Beatrice Belmont¡¯s desk.


    The first ¨C and most glaringly apparent ¨C was that it appeared on its own. The sender had pierced through several of the densest warding arrays and security measures north of California to deliver it directly. When the aging head of her august family saw it, she already knew that none of the practitioners she trusted enough to enter the vaults, much less her own private sanctum where the desk resided, had placed it there.


    She knew equally well that there would be no evidence of it being done, even if the bound and lingering spirits that composed the house¡¯s security were to be questioned. Her child had always been connected with them, even before the¡­heresy.


    The second surprise, though it was really more of a foregone conclusion, was that it was from the eldest of her three scattered offspring. The letter wasn¡¯t paper, parchment, papyrus, or any other mundane writing material. No, from the envelope to the message she could already envision within, it was a slip of still-living flesh.


    Hairless and smooth, it bled with a piteous wail from an unseen mouth as she slid a knife through the blinded eye upon the flap. The symbolism wasn¡¯t lost on her. Nor was the very clear symbol marking it as coming from the halls of Haven¡¯s eccentric lord. It lacked the gravitas of having come from that most intimidating being who, in all his capricious glory, had barred anyone associated with House Belmont from entering his demesne.


    That largest of immaterial cities enmeshed within the Roads had once been the family¡¯s lifeblood. All it had taken was one errant child with a grudge and more guts than brains to end that and threaten the family¡¯s future. The same child who, she knew, had sent the letter.


    Really, she had to admit to herself, the only surprise was that she had gotten an answer at all.


    Before her eyes, the skin shuddered. Then looping, glowing red lines of text made themselves clear upon the sobbing flesh.


    ¡°Dearest Mother,


    I write to inform you that I will be returning home come midsummer. The news of my esteemed mentor¡¯s death has reached Haven, yet my current contract does not allow sufficient time to make the journey to pay my respects. It seems that for all their connection, my lord values my service too highly to make a dispensation. I wish to inform you that, due to this, it will not be renewed.


    If you and your esteemed House desire my services, the bidding will begin shortly after my arrival and conclude upon my departure.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    My itinerary at this moment does not include any interaction with the wider family. I will be rendezvousing with my sister before arrival, as part of the escort required by the Keepers of the Ivory Grave for my visits to the area. I am led to believe she will be nearby, regardless.


    Neither of us plan to call on the Belmont estate, so there is no need to make any of the extensive preparations I am sure you would plan for such a reunion. I will call briefly on the Council, if time permits, and my visit will likely conclude once I have spoken to the girls. There are things best said in person concerning their mother and myself that I believe should not remain buried. Secrets left to fester bring nothing but harm, I have found.


    Of course, I do not believe I have any need to educate you on the subject, Honored Head of the House.


    While I would prefer to end this letter here, decorum requires that I address your previous missives: they have been received. Their contents are now and shall remain unknown, as an exceedingly ravenous sprite has been attracted to my current domicile. I am led to believe that this particular variety feeds on desperation, but surely these are just vile rumors spread by our family¡¯s villainous adversaries.


    As I have reiterated before, I do not wish to burden the family¡¯s coffers or your own hands with the strain of writing such communiques. While doubtless you and the rest of the House¡¯s elders know best, I will once again ask that you cease to do so. I believe this is the twenty-seventh time I have made this preference known.


    I would not dare to cast aspersions or believe myself possessed of a greater education than yourself, exalted mother, but that means my request has been made thrice by thrice by thrice again. The significance of such shall come across unsaid, I am sure, but my compact with the various orders of Witch Hunters requires me to inform you that continuing to ignore such a clearly reinforced and reasonable request will result in a minor sympathetic curse unless you argue successfully of a pressing need in front of the local powers regulating the layers beneath mortal notice.


    If you feel inclined to try, please send them my regards. I do so miss speaking with them.¡±


    The letter, as if it sensed when she read that far, split open below the signature line and began to read it aloud with a toothless mouth.


    Your Proud <u>Son</u>,


    Geoffrey Raife Belmont¡±


    The aging enchanter fed the page into the candle in front of her with a scowl before it could finish. She ignored the scream it made as the elemental ensconced within devoured it, then waved away the cloud of acrid smoke.


    The envelope went in next.


    As if the sender had expected that, the non-sentient elemental she¡¯d caged in her youth flickered out and died. The second piece of skin burned into a foul-smelling blue gas that soaked into everything in the room. With a dispassionate sigh and a wave of her hand, a wardstone that had taken her weeks to carve while she was pregnant with this impudent child sucked in the smoke before it could eat away at the less durable enchantments lining the room.


    The stone cracked, and she dropped its pieces into the trash.


    She was already expecting the other elders to revive old complaints about how she had handled that whole situation. Again. So, ignoring the warning, she started another letter. The tightening in her joints as the curse took hold was just a reminder of the stakes and the sacrifices she had made for her position. She would talk sense into her deluded daughter, regardless of how stubborn and entrenched the girl was in her rebellion.


    Family was everything. No amount of outside support or magical mutilation would cut those ties.

 Pages from the Blackleaf Archive

    Pages from the Blackleaf Archive


    On Roads, The Wood, And What Lies Beyond


    While this author hopes that his warnings of the dangers within stay with the readers, now we move on to the true subject of the text: the Roads.


    They, like the Faerie Wood, have borne as many names as there are cultures under the sun. And, this author is certain, many more besides. The Labyrinth of Spirits. The Unseen Stones. The Deathlands. The Dream Paths. None identical, and yet all related, for a given definition of the word. While they may change in subtle ways across the world, due to the whims of the Fae or as a murky reflection of the reality beneath, there are features and warnings that always hold true despite the varied biomes.


    The Roads are inherently Other. There, magic drifts in the air and things that have never walked the Earth ¨C even in the memories of the longest-lived immortals this author has known ¨C roam. The paths that give name to the space are akin to a world of their own. They weave through the Wood and the Earth as a skein finer than the finest lace. Where magic gathers or the world runs thin, mortals and monsters and anything in between can pass through as blood falls from a pierced vein.


    To the untrained eye, such as an adult bereft of the Gift, these passages are hidden. They may live their entire lives unknowing of the magic around them, ignorant of the danger passing through that one spot of twisted grass they unconsciously avoid entails.


    And truly, danger it is.


    Even a single step into the Roads takes you out of the world you know into something raw, primeval, and uncaring. Whether dirt or stone or ¨C in these changing and uncertain times ¨C asphalt, the passages will lead to unmistakable roadways. No reputable accounts have ever told of a beginning or ending of them, or of any pattern to the construction. They twist and branch and come together in a mandala that defies all attempts at unified mapping.


    Exits are unmarked except by mortal hands, thinnings in the world along the trails and, in commonly occurring but rarely seen cases, deeper into the Wood. There, where travelers must rely on luck to return for even the Fates are blinded and powerless, the eyes of the Fae rove to claim the unwary who trespass on their unmarked lands. To wander the Roads is to tread their realm, to risk arousing their ire or suffering their tricks.


    Despite the danger, these roads and the world they represent are the lifeblood of the occult. A reality of flowing, unbound magic that can be shaped at little risk and no inherent debt. Somewhere out of reach of any mundane authorities, where even the more supernatural ones fear taking heavy handed actions. A place where thousands upon thousands of years of magi have tread and died, leaving behind the secrets and relics of a bygone era.


    Where, for the brave, secrets and riches just wait to be found.


    Despite the dangers and the shifting nature of The Roads, some communities of practitioners and our¡­less human counterparts have forged cities upon patterns in that web. Focal points where paths tend to connect to each other, and where a path made by human hands may twist and grow to join the greater whole. Such places, for as long as they are maintained and in the good graces of the Fair Folk, become sanctuaries where magic is applauded.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Other parts are twisted and knotted in ways outside our comprehension, scarred permanently by unknown cataclysms. There are even, rumors say, worlds akin to our own, lying in the unknown places that exist beyond the courts of the Fae.


    In an effort to remain factual, this author will only discuss the areas he and his associates have personally verified the existence of, and then proceed to speculation and recounting of the disparate tales of the Faelands and what lies beyond.


    <hr>


    Encyclopedia Ephemeral ¨C 2<sup>nd</sup> Edition


    Description ¨C


    The cerboar appears relatively similar to the wild swine prevalent in Europe during past centuries, at least from a distance. Anything more than a cursory glance will show that it is, at best, loosely related to anything that walks the Earth.


    Each of its eight legs, arranged in twin rows of four, has three separate joints. During movement they bend in ways that seem impossible by Earth standards. There is no properly defined foot, merely a thick pad of ¡®skin¡¯ that constantly wears away and regrows. Their hind end is smooth and rounded, with no openings or projections of any sort, excretory or otherwise. The ¡®head¡¯ is also rounded and indistinct from the rest of the body but possesses a mouth that peels back in six flaps. At the base of each flap is a crystalline tusk, the color and specific properties depending on diet.


    The cerboar lacks defined teeth. Instead, their skeletal structure extends directly into the motile flaps, extrusions serving a similar purpose.


    While they lack any defined sensory organs, smooth pits in their skin are repeated regularly around their center of mass and appear to serve as focal points for their abilities. Their skeletal structure is composed primarily of metal, while their skin is largely similar in both appearance and texture to the minerals in their primary diet. The flesh, what little there is, is a deep cerulean. It is utterly inedible.


    Their stony skin appears to serve as waste removal ¨C gradually growing and then cracking off when it grows too thick. Reproduction is rare, and only possible during periods immediately post-shedding, before the orifice is covered again.


    Habitats ¨C


    The creature is mostly found in the more mountainous sections of the Roads, subsisting primarily on exposed mineral seams that then become concentrated into their bodies. Though rare, they are sometimes found in the forested regions as well. No specimens have been reported to survive removal from the Roads for longer than a month.


    Capabilities ¨C


    The creatures are blind and dumb, but far from harmless. They possess mild psychic abilities, thought to stem from the pits in their stoney skin, which they use as an instinctive form of dowsing to discover accessible mineral veins. These also alert the creatures when another living thing is looking at them, which seems to drive them into a rage.


    Their tusks are extremely sharp but are not particularly long, rarely extending more than twenty centimeters. They are used both for self-defense purposes, uprooting obstructions, and shattering ore to feed upon.


    Uses ¨C


    A cerboar instinctively seeks out the minerals they are fed in infancy. This leads to their use as passive mining assistants ¨C the magical nature of their feeding can concentrate even astonishingly diluted ingredients into pockets within their bones and sensory depressions. The tusks of any well-fed specimen are unusually durable compared to other crystalline objects, with niche uses in dowsing, as spellcasting foci, and occasionally as daggers.


    Special Notes ¨C


    Despite their threat to the unprepared, a Cerboar is little danger to any studied mage. Due to their scarcity and use in reagent production, hunting is heavily restricted around all major extra-dimensional enclaves. Poaching is often punishable by death.

 Chapter Thirteen - Tammy

    Chapter Thirteen - Tammy


    The stone turned into a crystal. Bright, crimson red pulsed in time with my heartbeat, sending stark shadows dancing on the walls and plants behind us. Even the flows of magic started to tint red, the same shade as Alyssa¡¯s fur.


    That¡­that was¡­


    Alara was silent as she picked it up. It sat gleaming in her palm as Alyssa and I fidgeted in the glow, watching her mother¡¯s face go blank and her wings begin to droop. The light never wavered, not even as she curled her hand into a fist. It barely even dimmed, picking out veins in intricate detail and adding fleshy shadows to the backdrop, like the room and the windows were all deep, deep beneath a scarlet sea.


    With a crunch that echoed through the room, it crumbled. Blood dripped out of her fist as she gingerly eased it out of sight, a sound that seemed so much more ominous than the water and the plants.


    ¡°You have a rare gift, Tamara Aufrey. Olaf¡¯s legacy truly has passed to you, but the damned fool failed to prepare you. What we saw shall not leave this room ¨C though that small leeway is all the charity I shall give. The eyes of many will be on you regardless, for such gifts of Blood mark you as a monster in need of culling. If they cannot leash you, they will lash you until you crumble.¡±


    I shivered at the sound of nails peeling back wood.


    ¡°For your own sake ¨C do not embrace it. Thrice-swear an oath before the Ivory Stag, prostrate yourself to the Drunken God, wield the weight of your obligations ¨C do not, ever, turn to Blood. Whatever it takes, you must give and give until the hounds fall back, content to circle your heels. In time you will grow beyond their reach ¨C yet Tamara, time is not on your side.¡±


    I swallowed thickly and nodded. I didn¡¯t trust myself to get a word out.


    ¡°All that I may teach you of Blood are control and restraint. The words, the oaths, the bindings ¨C these I can offer. Any further and it would unmake me. As for the rest of what we discussed¡­¡±


    A subtly shaking hand proffered a sheaf of papers from the side of the desk. A pen followed.


    ¡°I swear on my Self that nothing beyond the scope of our agreement lies within this contract. No changes have been made, nor will there be any based upon your discovered talents. To sign is to willingly bind ourselves to the terms, as witnessed by your Archivist.¡±


    The air shuddered as she spoke. A weight settled around us as I read, quietly, and ignored the small, rippling mirror adrift with Scully¡¯s mist. It wasn¡¯t anything unexpected ¨C I already knew that Alara had a link. It was just that something about this one looked¡­off.


    The contract though seemed, well, normal. Technical terms and milestones about what I could expect to be taught and what aid I would receive. It was easier to focus on this in the awkward almost-silence, broken only by the shuffling of fur and flesh against seats, raspy breathing, and the slow drips of blood and water from all around.


    I trusted her not to lie. I wasn¡¯t sure about much else from last night, but I knew that. Everything ¨C and I did mean everything ¨C had agreed that a mage¡¯s word was their craft. Even if my guts still twisted up when I thought about the questions and how intoxicating they¡¯d felt, I knew this was right.


    So, I signed. Right next to her name.


    The weight bore down all the harder as my ink soaked in. Then it lifted while the older sphinx took the papers back. They went into a small tray beneath the mirror as a thin, glowing strand of colorless light picked itself out in the air between us. A hand reached out from the mists inside the mirrorr, toward the papers¡¯ reflection. Suddenly, I had a headache.


    It had to be Scully ¨C that was her skin. Flat, grey, and textureless even as it shone. But where it overlapped the thread, something else flickered in. A festering, seeping black tint worse than what had been there before. Fraying leaves bound tight around flesh that was beginning to crawl over segmented, metallic fingers with tips like scythes.


    I blinked, and the thread was gone. Scully¡¯s hand silently pulled back, taking the contract with it. Everything was normal, except for the lingering churn in my stomach. The lights rose back above the plants¡¯ glow at a wave of Alara¡¯s hand. Her voice was strained and she didn¡¯t look at either of us as the doors swung open.


    ¡°Alyssandra will assess your current state. Now ¨C please leave.¡±


    I didn¡¯t think bones were supposed to bend the way they did as the younger sphinx pulled me out of the room. Her wings were wrapped around her, a coat of crimson feathers blocking out her torso and wrapped down over her shoulders. She didn¡¯t let go of my arm until we were back in the elevator, and only then did she speak.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°It¡¯s not anything you did. We just hoped you wouldn¡¯t have that gift. Mom¡¯s still working through things older than both of us combined, but that¡¯s not my story to tell. Soooooo¡­it¡¯s probably best if you head home for today. Come back in the morning, pretty please. Eight-ish should work, I¡¯ll set stuff up for us out in one of the grottos. Just make sure to get a good night¡¯s rest. The first day¡¯s always a doozy.¡±


    I nodded. With a weak grin and a pat on the shoulder that left me stiff and shaking, she let me go. I could feel eyes following me the entire way back to the car, and I had a feeling they weren¡¯t just hers. There were a lot of windows around here, and the pool was still crowded, so I expected that. A part of me liked it just a little too much ¨C and with all the ups and downs of the last few days, that part was screaming at me to unwind. It had been months since the last time.


    I pushed that part down, hard, as I went through the motions and ended up at the store shoving enough snacks and food to get me through a month into my cart. Getting this out of the way now would let me focus better even if Teresa would gag at how I was planning to eat for the next few months.


    It wasn¡¯t all junk food though. I kept a mental finger on the dial for the Sight, occasionally flicking it around. When I went too far all I could see were nauseatingly painful spreads of colors as lines began to criss-cross the store. They didn¡¯t leave afterimages, but it still brought tears to my eyes when I fucked up. At a lower level though, one that just added a little bit more heft to the ghost of a headache lurking behind my eyes, things were mostly normal. All that changed was a little glow, for lack of a better term, around people and things.


    I was still painfully bright to look at, and so was the yawning lady scooping half a shelf of wine into her cart that briefly met my eyes with a nod of acknowledgement. Everyone else was dull. Normal.


    Almost half my cart was just, me dragging anything that looked brighter into it. Mostly, it was food. The way I was thinking ¨C anything that looked more magical was probably better to eat. Even if I really, really hated broccoli. I had to pick through the piles ¨C nothing was uniform. Still, it was sobering to see. Alara had said that magic was everywhere. The portal to the Roads had just been sitting there. Teresa and I had missed all of it even after we learned magic was real.


    How did people go around without seeing this? The P.I.D. couldn¡¯t be overbearing enough to cover things up every time. Not everything could be hidden like a disappearance. Normal people had to run into magic and get burned by it ¨C maybe not as bad as we had, but maybe even worse. How many people fell into the Roads and never came out? How many were murdered by monsters? Scully and Mini were tame and didn¡¯t seem particularly dangerous ¨C to be anyway ¨C but I¡¯d read the books. If the rest of it was all real, they had to be.


    If¡­


    ¡°Oh hey, Moth Girl!¡±


    Oh. It was him. The guy from the line last night, walking by with a few bags looped over his arm just as I finished at the checkout.


    For a second, my hand itched. I took a deep breath and pushed both it and the first inklings of heat down. I had to steady myself. The matriarch¡¯s words echoed in my head ¨C control, and restraint. People might think of me as a monster ¨C I needed to prove them wrong.


    ¡°Is that a different thing this time? The moth is the same but I swear the rest isn¡¯t.¡±


    I looked down. It was still a bracelet ¨C but yeah, the stones were arranged differently, with fewer dangling bits. I hadn¡¯t even noticed it changing this time.


    ¡°Yeah. Look, about yesterday¡­¡±


    ¡°No no no, it was my fault. I saw the moth and I wasn¡¯t thinking.¡± Weylan rubbed the back of his head. ¡°It¡¯s been so long that I wasn¡¯t thinking about how that looked, y¡¯know? I should¡¯ve realized you weren¡¯t having a great night sooner too.¡±


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have taken it out on you. It¡¯s just¡­¡±


    ¡°Just that I was there, I get it, yeah.¡± He held out a hand. Something clinked in his bag as we shook. ¡°You are a student, right? There¡¯s counselling at the health center if you ever need it. Trust me, it can help.¡±


    I put on a fake smile. Something told me that any counselors wouldn¡¯t believe me. Therapy helped down at boarding school when it was just depression. Now that my head was clearer, it was obvious that he meant well, and that he didn¡¯t give me douchebag vibes.


    ¡°I¡¯m Tammy. I uh ¨C I¡¯m probably not going to be able to start this semester.¡±


    I could see the second the name clicked.


    ¡°Tammy? Like Tamara? Wait, I thought I recognized you. You¡¯re an Aufrey! Holy shit your family endowed my scholarship! I heard you and your sister were¡­¡± My smile cracked, and he noticed. A horrified look went across his face as he realized why I might not be starting. ¡°Oh fuck, umm¡­sorry?¡±


    The hand itched again, but I forced it back down and started fiddling with the bracelet with my other hand. It got easier to control like that ¨C something seeping from the jewelry and into the brand. Like they were talking to each other, and the one that had been forced on me backed down.


    Him putting his foot in his mouth wasn¡¯t a reason to get angry. I¡¯d always had problems controlling that ¨C and whatever the Faerie had stuck to me didn¡¯t help. Even if nobody was watching, I owed it to myself, to Teresa, and to this dude.


    Control.


    Restraint.


    It wasn¡¯t a reason to break down, either. He didn¡¯t even know what he was saying, but I was fighting back tears anyway and that was maybe a bit more obvious than I¡¯d have preferred. Right now, the clearly-magical lady with all the booze was conspicuously loading up the back of her van a few spaces down and not looking this way at all.


    Which made the way I could still somehow see her eyes tracking me both distracting and nauseating.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I ¨C I need to get going. Maybe I¡¯ll see you around town?¡±


    I didn¡¯t relax until I was out past city limits on the way home. The tension drained, slowly, as I cried on the drive. At the end I felt stronger for it. Just a little bit ¨C it didn¡¯t change what Teresa was going through and what I¡¯d done ¨C but it was like I had a better handle on things.


    I had a plan. I had a teacher. There was a path forward, and I was doing everything I could.


    It would be enough. It had to be.

 Chapter Fourteen - Teresa

    Chapter Fourteen ¨C Teresa


    The Faerie had one hand on his hip as he strolled around my frozen form and into view. Only my eyes moved to track him. His other hand went to his chin. When I felt the pressure fade around my mouth, I managed to swallow. That was it.


    ¡°Still not speaking? Perhaps the flaw is deeper, then. I do hope that the Lady didn¡¯t take your tongue as a trinket. Such would be her right, of course, but I do so hate damaged goods.¡±


    He lazily swung his right hand toward me as he stopped directly in front of the door.


    ¡°Open up then, let¡¯s have a look and see.¡±


    His digits twitched fractionally closer together and then fingers that weren¡¯t there dug into my cheeks. Cold and hard, they pushed against my jaw until my muscles suddenly went limp and my mouth opened. They settled there as more invisible digits dove inside. I couldn¡¯t breathe, couldn¡¯t scream, couldn¡¯t even twitch as more than could possibly fit just ¨C just appeared inside.


    They tasted like smoke and felt like glass.


    Four slid along my gums, one felt along and then under my tongue. Four more latched on and began to pull it around when that one disappeared, while what felt like an entire hand peeled my lips back as far as they could go. Two poked my tonsils then slid down my throat to what had to be the very base of my tongue, pushing and prodding in a way that should have made me throw up.


    Through it all, he just stood there. One hand outstretched, a bored expression on his face with just the slightest tilt to his head as he looked and did ¨C did whatever this was. The ice was back in my veins now, the anxiety that spawned it entirely mine as my eyes started to fill with more tears than I could blink away.


    A finger wiped them away as they fell, the drops glistening in the spot of air that felt like a glass digit, before falling to the ground. Seeing that just made me cry more, even once the fingers pulled away and my throat was clear. The hold on the outside and the mocking tenderness stayed as the tapping started. A single hard click as something poked into each tooth, one by one. For what felt like forever.


    When it hit my last molar, everything vanished but the lingering taste, the tears, and the shaking that started the second he stopped holding me completely still. I was still being propped up, but now I could vibrate. At least above the neck.


    He waited for me to stop coughing, only frowning slightly when I spit a glob of ashy paste onto the floor. I had no idea where it had come from.


    ¡°Are you quite done?¡±


    This time, I nodded. Shakily.


    ¡°Good. Your meat, as it were, is entirely intact. No hex, oath, or enchantment binds you from speaking. Silence is not a choice anymore, Seedling. Speak, or I will be quite cross.¡±


    Fae didn¡¯t lie. I think. The way he was looking at me ¨C as if I was a phone he was deciding to keep or throw away ¨C cooperating sounded like the best option. My voice rasped as I said, ¡°I¡­¡±


    My mouth froze again. It wasn¡¯t like when the Lady had done it; I could feel the pressure holding me in place. With her, my movements had just failed to make a sound at all.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough. It would have been a shame to have exchanged what I did for a tool even more defective than expected.¡± He twirled his hand and my head unfroze again. ¡°Now, I have a list of ground rules. You will be playing at being civilized, here. That means you must know your place. Do you understand?¡±


    I only got halfway through a nod and opening my mouth before the pressure returned after a dismissive flick of his hand.


    ¡°Do not speak further. I have no interest in listening to you beg or plead; knowing you are able is enough. In fact, you will not speak to your betters unless prompted. Conversations with other servants had best serve a purpose, if in earshot of one of the Firstborn. Your image reflects on my own and I do not stand for imperfection.¡±


    Again, the grip loosened just enough to nod.


    ¡°You will refer to me as Master. My compatriots with stake in your existence will share this address. Others of the Courts are to be referred to solely as Firstborn, regardless of any claims otherwise. Ash does not play into the petty games of the vain, and our servants shall be no exception.¡±


    He gave a long sigh when he saw the way my eyes flicked, then added, ¡°If, by some twist of the Weave, you encounter another august personage such as the esteemed Lady of Sighing Boughs, then you will use their Name, or simply their titles. Barring specific knowledge, Highborn will suffice.¡±


    When he saw me relax his eyes shifted to something back and to my right. He tapped the fingers of his left hand against his hip, staccato beats of glass-on-glass ringing out as he did.


    ¡°You will do as you are told, when you are told. The Grower must have built you well enough to understand that, at least. My orders are supreme, then your other Masters. Then other Firstborn of Ash, then those of the other courts. Other personal servants and those with duties to the House come last. The only allowance you have, until you have proven your worth, is to preserve yourself. I will not have my possessions damaged unduly, whether by their own hands or others¡¯. Is this understood?¡±


    My mouth went dry. The instinctive, nervous swallow as my mind ran wild nearly choked me.


    ¡°Good. Remember: disobedience will be punished.¡±


    I did not like his tone there. Or the way he started tilting his head slowly, shifting angles every fifteen seconds as he stood and stared.


    ¡°If you have even an ounce of intelligence that wasn¡¯t baked into your brain, you should know what we planned. You, Seedling, are to be the centerpiece of our little soiree, the new gem in our possession just waiting to be polished. Obviously, your current state will not do. Those rags are a crime, draped across a masterwork as they are.¡±


    He twirled his hand and met my eyes. That was when it struck me that he hadn¡¯t blinked, not once.


    ¡°Now, I need to see what I¡¯m working with. Strip.¡±


    I was halfway through a nod when I froze of my own volition. It took that long for what he¡¯d said to actually register through the racing thoughts about what the Fae did in the real stories that Grandpa had in that dark office.


    He wanted me to¡­?


    ¡°What? I ¨C¡±


    The words were out before I could stop myself. I didn¡¯t even have time to stiffen before the pressure bore down on me again, cold and overbearing. This time, it came with more hands, one on each limb.


    It felt like the wall of a deep cave had grabbed me. Cold, hard fingers pressing in, everywhere, as the Faerie gave a sigh longer than anyone with actual lungs could¡¯ve sustained. The whole time, his head was shaking. He started to walk around me, circling.


    ¡°Not even five minutes and you¡¯ve already broken the rules. Mortals never learn, it seems, and I must do everything myself.¡±


    He flicked his wrist just before passing out of sight behind me. The hands, squeezing just on the edge of pain, pulled. My legs slid to the side and my arms flew up until I made an X. The hands rippled against my skin and then copies of them, from full appendages to individual fingers, slid out of each. Some rushed outward, to my extremities while others went inward, tracing cool trails and goosebumps behind them as they began to squeeze and pull.


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    The first visual change was in my own hands. I felt one settle in against each and interlace with my fingers in a dark mimicry of affection. My fingers began to snap backwards and forwards, each movement pushing the boundary of what should have hurt before it relaxed. They moved in sync like something was testing their range of motion even while I watched my nails clean out and align themselves into perfect half-moons.


    He had come back into sight, on my other side, when the fingers had started moving as a whole instead of individually. His eyes, stern and impassive, met mine. The same movement from earlier was there, the same ephemeral colors dancing inside. This time, they came with something in my peripheral vision. A single, disembodied hand holding each of mine. Crystal the color of a wet firepit, dirty and decayed, all color faded out and cast under a grey pall. They were pressed against my hands in a way that made my stomach churn.


    The Sight, unbidden, sprang up and I could see the dark shades of light roiling beneath my skin. Where it touched the visible hands, and nowhere else, it leached into them, the colors inside it painfully vivid compared to the monochromatic abyss that was the hands.


    He took another step and broke eye contact. The Sight, along with the hands, faded back to invisibility.


    The ones on my arms had begun to bend my hands at the wrist. Then my elbow started to act like the fingers had. The eerie sync they were in was broken when my right arm twisted just far enough for whatever had been messed up in the elbow to click. The other one kept moving, but that one stopped. It was like they were testing range of motion without hurting me.


    Could he hurt me, could any of them? Nothing they¡¯d done on their own had actually done anything I could think of as being actual harm, not directly. Maybe¡­


    My shoes popping off knocked my thoughts off track. The hands tickled but I couldn¡¯t even twitch as they started giving my toes the same treatment as my fingers. It felt dirty, the exasperated stare on his face making it worse. I had to be off the ground with how my ankles started to move.


    The angle I¡¯d been frozen at left me a choice between staring at him, the wall, or the ceiling. I chose the ceiling. The immobility, the dread, the building numbness ¨C it was like when the wolf-thing had pinned me down. Everything had faded away and I¡¯d just stopped caring, then. But it just wouldn¡¯t come now, even when I willed it. I wished I could just pass out, or sink down into the warm embrace of whatever was inside me until this was over.


    Either would work.


    My concentration shattered before I could start trying for either.


    They were tugging on the hem of my pants.


    A second later my sleeves joined them. He¡¯d said to strip, I knew that. But was he really going to¡­?


    A second tug did nothing. They pulled, but the fabric was held tight against me. My shirt, though, started to ride up. The air was colder than it should have been as it brushed against my stomach. The hands that followed it were colder still. When they slipped up under my sleeves, even while the shirt kept sliding up, the panic overpowered everything else.


    Even my reflexes didn¡¯t work. I couldn¡¯t flinch, couldn¡¯t shake, couldn¡¯t pull back or push him away. He wasn¡¯t even touching me himself and he looked so bored, like this, all of this, was just a chore for him. That made it worse. He was doing all of this and he didn¡¯t even care that his impossible, invisible hands were going places they should not be.


    He¡¯d made it clear he didn¡¯t think of me as a person, but¡­


    A snap rang out. The button on my pants pulled free and I started crying again. Everything blurred out as the tears overflowed. That was all the physical response I could give. My screams were only in my head, going out to an audience of one. That one rustled softly, vague pulses of sympathy, confusion, and understanding radiating from it.


    The hands paused on my shoulders in a mockery of a massage.


    The next yank moved my pants a couple of inches. The zipper was still done so they snagged at my hips, riding uncomfortably low but stopping no matter how hard he pulled. The groping limbs moved off my shoulders, most pairs going down as one went up my neck, keeping pace with the rise of my shirt. All of it moved agonizingly, horrifyingly, degradingly slowly. Like time didn¡¯t matter.


    What was happening ¨C it was all too soft. Too gentle. It was a perversion of intimacy, scenes from my romance novels and fantasies I¡¯d had for years playing out in the worst possible way. The hands that I¡¯d imagined as being warm felt like cold rock as they traced along my cheekbones and cradled my face. Others slid through my hair and untangled knots, not in the loving way I longed for, but more as a methodical chore. The sensations overlapped as he cupped my chest, the brown blur through my tears turning red as my shirt blocked out the wall.


    Hands settled around my hips and started tugging at the belt loops on my jeans. They still refused to budge.


    This wasn¡¯t ¨C it was too many hands. Too cold. Too hard. He wasn¡¯t someone I¡¯d grown to love, just someone that was hurting me. It wasn¡¯t what I wanted, wasn¡¯t how I wanted, wasn¡¯t¡­.


    All I wanted was for it to stop. To push him away, make him stop, to run. Fight, scream, pass out ¨C literally anything that wasn¡¯t being frozen here as a helpless audience that had to feel everything as it happened.


    Through the connection in my chest I could feel that distant presence start to shift. I didn¡¯t know what it was going to do. Maybe it didn¡¯t even know. But it was reaching out anyway. Pressing something sharp into me from that unfathomable distance. I didn¡¯t get to see what would happen because I felt something different.


    Pain.


    The hands had tugged at my pants, again. This time, they shifted. The zipper caught on my flesh. Not for long, not even too roughly, but enough to pinch.


    As soon as the pain hit the hands vanished. So did whatever had been holding me up. I crumpled up as I hit the ground and that hurt too. It didn¡¯t matter though; I could move.


    I managed a single deep breath before I started screaming. The tears exploded out even heavier than they¡¯d been before now that I had conscious control again, dripping down onto my arms as I curled up into as tight of a ball as I could manage. It hurt more as I dug my nails into my arms, but that was good. Something else to focus on.


    If they were digging into one spot and I wasn¡¯t moving any more than what the shaking from my sobbing screams caused, then I couldn¡¯t scratch. My arms, my chest, my face; everything felt dirty. He¡¯d touched me and¡­


    When I had to stop to breathe, he tried to say something. I just sucked in air and screamed louder, drowning him out. I didn¡¯t want to hear him; even the brief snippet of his voice made my skin crawl as I tried to scoot away. The wood was too smooth to scrape even my exposed skin as I did that.


    I was almost disappointed about that.


    I didn¡¯t stop screaming until I tasted blood and the throbbing in my throat became nearly debilitating. Any sound I managed to make after that was too quiet to drown him out as I rushed to pull my shirt back down all the way. Then I was just blinking away the stinging that came from running out of tears.


    ¡°Are you done?¡±


    His voice felt hollow. The glow in his eyes was dimmer and his skin looked like it had cracked, slightly. Imperfect. He¡¯d been standing in front of me, almost at the door, but when he saw me actively looking at him, he sat down. It wasn¡¯t as undignified as collapsing, but it was very close.


    Good. I had no idea what had hurt him, but he deserved it and worse.


    I wanted to turn away and ignore him. Just looking made me start to shake again. It ¨C it felt like a bad idea to do that, though. The only working part of my brain reminded me that something worse could¡¯ve happened, and that it would happen if I upset him or another Faerie enough. There was literally nothing I could do to stop them, not on my own. If I did something risky and it didn¡¯t work, if something like this happened again and didn¡¯t get stopped, I would break badly enough that there¡¯d be no coming back.


    So I sat up, slowly. Tugged my jeans back up as high as I could and redid the button, pulled my shirt down further, and hugged my knees. Then I just stared at him.


    I flinched when he moved his hands, half expecting more of the invisible ones. Instead both of the physical ones were held out to his sides, palms up and angled at me. I wasn¡¯t sure, but it looked like he had tremors running up and down his arms, off-sync and vibrating through his entire body. It took him what had to be at least a minute to speak. His voice was cold and distinctly unfriendly, the indifferent tone long gone. There was no warmth or kindness to it, just a thin and brittle air of condescension.


    ¡°It appears, Seedling, that I have erred.¡±


    There was another minute of complete silence before he realized I wasn¡¯t going to say anything to him.


    ¡°Clearly, what a hollow shell like you considers to be harmful is more complex than expected. Make no mistake, you are mine. But this Court ¨C myself included ¨C is bound by our agreement all the same. This punishment appears to have crossed an unspoken line in a way that infringed upon our oath. It will not happen again.¡±


    He looked down his nose at me and sniffed. Affronted.


    ¡°What you clearly fear will not happen. Even were your origin entirely different, I would not sully myself. Even the highest of mortals are beneath my notice in such matters.¡±


    The shaking was slowing down, his features molding themselves back to perfection.


    ¡°Inconvenient as it is to owe an owned tool, my impatience has made it a necessity. You have my word that, for so long as I possess you, this shall not be allowed to happen again. It will not occur by my hand, nor those of my cabal. You will be barred from the touch of others, and, should I fail to prevent it, my full attention will turn to punishing the offender to your satisfaction. I swear it on my being as a child of the Jewel-in-Repose and a scion of the Court of Ash.¡±


    The words were bitter, practically spat at me, but they hung in the air. A thread of magic snaked from his torso toward me, glimmering in an indescribable rainbow. I shrank back from it, but it didn¡¯t hurt as it touched me. It didn¡¯t feel like anything, really, as it sank into me and faded away into just the faintest connection between us. The second-brightest of dozens of threads that raced out from me when I strained my eyes to look.


    The only other thing it left behind was a foreign, calming, certainty that the Faerie couldn¡¯t break that promise.


    That didn¡¯t do anything for the way my skin crawled when I saw him, or the urge to scrub myself raw. It still looked like he was mentally undressing me; that he wouldn¡¯t touch me was hardly any relief.


    ¡°Another servant will arrive soon to prepare you; it would be best to clean yourself beforehand. Until then, reconsider what you value most. Even a beast should know that comfort is second to safety. If you fail to impress others when presented ¨C the consequences are yours and yours alone.¡±

 Chapter Fifteen - Tammy

    Chapter Fifteen - Tammy


    Most of the books we¡¯d figured things out from were gone. They¡¯d been in Teresa¡¯s backpack ¨C and I either didn¡¯t remember or couldn¡¯t pronounce the titles to ask for backup copies. Scully was¡­not helpful. Sitting at a table in the Archive, I asked her to bring me copies of what we¡¯d been going through before we ¨C before I ¨C met her.


    The first one looked familiar. Different binding, but it had a rundown of the awakening ritual in it. With a few notable differences. I didn¡¯t have time to dwell on those, though ¨C the second, when it came, looked like it was writhing as a wisp of light brought it to me. My teeth started to itch and my hair stood on end as it got closer, a coppery smell flooding my nose. It hurt to look at and, I realized, was causing the ceiling of leaves to shift.


    The branches themselves bent to avoid it. I didn¡¯t even realize they could do that. In the gaps, there were just more leaves and more branches, higher up.


    She took it away when I asked but the branches didn¡¯t shift back to cover the holes and my skin didn¡¯t stop crawling. That was the kind of thing grandpa had been working with before he died? If relying on Scully for help meant I might get something like that or worse thrown at me¡­


    She didn¡¯t even mention what she¡¯d done. To her nothing wrong or even weird had happened, and I wasn¡¯t sure if I wanted to see her glitch out again if I poked. The half-decayed hand from Alara¡¯s study was still clear in my mind when I looked at her, even if she looked normal now.


    Working with Alyssa and her mom was feeling more and more like the right decision.


    <hr>


    My head was still throbbing as I pulled up at the sphinx compound. My hair was soaking wet since the jewelry seemed content to sit on my wrist today after a night spent trying to change my magic. I could, sort of, move the fires around on my fingertips, if I was focused and watching the little streamers of mana that fed them close enough.


    Literally just blowing on it was both faster and better, though, and didn¡¯t leave me pulling up to the first day of magic school or whatever I could call this with a gaping pit where my stomach should¡¯ve been since I hadn¡¯t even had time to eat cereal between plugging in Mini¡¯s tablet and okaying one of Scully¡¯s weird requests.


    I didn¡¯t know what ¡®thaumaturgic countermeasures¡¯ were or why she needed my permission to deploy them ¨C or even where she was using them, since ¡®Orerry Sub-Space Three¡¯ wasn¡¯t particularly descriptive ¨C but I trusted her judgement more than mine.


    I didn¡¯t even get a chance to press the speaker box before the gates slid open. Alyssa was leaning against the main doors as I pulled up, the only one I could see outside. Even the pool was empty, for the moment.


    She was done up again to look like a regular human. Even with the deeper layers of the Sight, she still looked mostly normal. Her eyes glowed as red as her hair ¨C which was weird, since they were clearly green ¨C but somehow even the wings were hidden. Or maybe they were just folded really well? I couldn¡¯t see her back from this angle.


    ¡°Great, you¡¯re on time! Most of us aren¡¯t up yet since out here we aren¡¯t exactly morning people. All of the old broads wait for the sun to warm things up, but the kitchen will definitely have breakfast starting up if you¡¯re hungry. Like, don¡¯t overeat or anything, but we¡¯ll be at it today for awhile. Things are a lot worse on an empty stomach.¡±


    I caught myself before I asked about what they¡¯d have.


    ¡°Saw that! Come on, there should be sausage biscuits. Even the traditionalists came around to local food since, apparently, none of their partners are good at the old-fashioned stuff. Mirin and their people usually refuse to make us pancakes, but they¡¯ve always let me back if you want some of them. We¡¯ve got the good syrup too, from Canada ¨C Mom refuses to get anything that won¡¯t scream or at least whisper opulence, so she gave in and started stocking it awhile ago.¡±


    I winced and wished the ibuprofen would get to work already. She was definitely just as upbeat as yesterday, before the meeting. I liked that energy, but my head¡­


    ¡°Uh, sure. Pancakes are nice.¡±


    ¡°Great ¨C head on in and take a left. I¡¯ll make some.¡± She opened the door and waved me through. The hall was mostly empty, save for a single leonine sphinx rubbing at her eyes and yawning wide enough to show a mouth full of fangs. I had to blink a few times before I realized her shirt was covered in ducks.


    Alyssa held me in place as the other one blearily vanished through a big set of doors to our left. Her voice was low, serious. ¡°Remember, no questions. You¡¯re the only human here that isn¡¯t bonded or layered with protective spells. It¡¯ll get easier once you learn, but that¡­we aren¡¯t allowed to teach it. Mom might have you check in your old man¡¯s hoard for one if there¡¯s an incident.¡±


    She spun off into the kitchen before I¡¯d finished processing that, leaving me at a table in a room that looked taller than it should be. There were a handful of people that looked human sitting around, usually nuzzled up close to one of the sphinxes. It was the fanciest cafeteria I¡¯d ever seen, complete with TVs and a lounge with fancy benches and chairs that a few of the sphinxes laid themselves out on.


    I tried not to stare, but the soap opera they had on was an episode Mini had been watching last night so I already knew where it was going and the WWII documentary was worse. It meant that my eyes kept going back to the one specific pair, a dark-haired man and a similarly colored sphinx off to the side. His head was resting on her tits, and I had to push down the thought of how that would feel.


    The sphinx¡¯s eyes met mine before Alyssa came back. She pulled the man in closer with one arm before I looked away, moving to the one who¡¯d walked in before us. She had two plates, one with some kind of taco and the other piled high with bacon. The mussed-up hair and fur made it obvious that the other girl hadn¡¯t been lying that nobody here was a morning person. Her coat was snow-white and vaguely spotted ¨C it made me wonder if everyone here was related or if Matriarch was more of a title than a signifier that Alara was the head of a family.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Alyssa made her way back when the other sphinx was halfway through the bacon. Between the plates and the pitcher, magic had to be involved in how she was juggling it. The way little streamers of something a lot paler in color than my magic swirled around her arms when I looked validated my guess.


    ¡°Here you go! Just regular ones, sorry. Couldn¡¯t find where they hid the chocolate chips this time ¨C I think they¡¯re still upset at how much of a sugar rush I put the cubs through last year. They only really like me going back there.¡±


    Her plate was swimming in syrup before I even managed to take a bite.


    ¡°Since we¡¯ll be doing this a lot, I¡¯ve got a bit of advice for you. We¡¯re all raised to avoid questions ¨C it¡¯s just rude to challenge someone like that, or too intimate if it isn¡¯t one. The younger generation doesn¡¯t have the control to avoid it. It comes across as crass to people that weren¡¯t raised this way, but we use imperatives instead. Like, don¡¯t ask how someone¡¯s day was: tell them to say it. I promise, we aren¡¯t being condescending. Well, most of us ¨C some of my aunts are just that bitchy.¡±


    I could sort of see that working. Phrasing and intonation had to matter ¨C even my unfocused search through the archives had made clear that symbolism was nearly as important as intent, and that both shaped reality. Then again, the books contradicted each other. A lot. The fading remnants of my headache twinged at the thought of that rabbit hole.


    ¡°So, it¡¯ll be like this. Tell me what we¡¯ll be doing today.¡±


    Fuck it felt weird to talk like an interviewer. The lurch in my gut didn¡¯t come, though. Alyssa was still just a cute girl ¨C less cute with how fast the pancakes were disappearing and how she had syrup splattered on the back of her hand in a pattern that only made sense because I knew it was covered in fur ¨C without any of the hypnotic pull her mother had that night.


    That had been there already, right?


    ¡°Yeah, like that! Just watch the inflection. Anyway, we¡¯ll be seeing what you can do first. Spells, rituals, what you know and what you¡¯ve actually done. Some exercises come next, they¡¯re how Mom tests someone¡¯s skill at the basics. If you pass all those, uh, I¡¯ve got no idea. You¡¯ll probably end up puking or wanting to pass out first.¡±


    ¡°Wh¡­¡± I cut myself off and choked on pancake in the process, getting looks from all around the room as I coughed my throat clear. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I like that.¡±


    ¡°Nobody does! If we don¡¯t have a baseline for how much mana it takes to run you dry, though, it makes things rougher in the future. Once we have an idea we can split more evenly between practical lessons and theory.¡±


    Choking aside, the food was good. She cooked a lot better than I did. Like Teresa could, when she was here and I convinced her to feed me. My hands clenched. The fork scraped on the plate and my palm started to burn as nails dug into it at the reminder. The brand, though, was still quiet. I was just upset as I finished the rest.


    ¡°Alyssa? Thanks. Having someone explain¡­¡±


    She hummed, off key, for a second. Her neck tilted at a slightly unnatural angle. ¡°That¡­wasn¡¯t quite a question, I don¡¯t think. Maybe don¡¯t say things like that, though, it feels weird. Trust me, girl ¨C I know how hard it is to put being grateful into words. I was raised to know all of this and people still get all dismissive when I need help or have to ask something. They treat me like little miss perfect and give me so much more shit than they do my cousins. I bet people are treating you like a mini-version of your grandpa, just like they do with me and Mom.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Mmm. Thought so ¨C real big shoes to fill, there. I can tell you about it later, but we should really head out now and get started.¡±


    More of the other sphinxes were trickling in as we dropped our plates off. Most leonine, the ¡®regular¡¯ sphinxes as best I could tell. I¡¯d managed to pull a book about them from the archive ¨C not every sphinx was like Alyssa or her mom. Being able to shift like they did was a hallmark of a subspecies ¨C ¡®royal¡¯ sphinxes.


    Alyssa¡¯s hand landed on my arm as we moved out into the hall. There were two girls playing air hockey along one wall. The bigger one was another of the furry, shifted sphinxes ¨C she waved at us as we kept moving, then scored when her opponent froze. That one was small. There was no way she wasn¡¯t a child, and the way her human torso twisted on top of the lion one was a little sickening. Her eyes were very, very wide and unnerving as Alyssa dragged me along.


    ¡°My cousins; Demetria and Euanthe.¡± I could hear the frown in her voice. Her illusion flickered for a bit ¨C glimpses of her wings and fur showing through as the door slammed behind us. ¡°Euanthe should not have been up here while we have guests. Obviously, nobody else cares. Mom will just sigh like usual. I can hear her now: why didn¡¯t you do something about it, Daughter?¡±


    Her voice actually changed. The rapid, cheerful tone she¡¯d been using lengthened into Alara¡¯s weightier, dignified sound. And with it, a faint metallic tang seeped into my nose. She let go and whirled around.


    ¡°Shit! Don¡¯t answer that, I¡¯m an idiot. Me and my fat, sarcastic mouth forgetting that I can¡¯t use rhetorical questions with you. It¡¯s ¨C well you¡¯ll be fine, just don¡¯t answer when I slip up. Poke me or throw something if I don¡¯t notice and I¡¯ll break it off. Euanthe though¡­fuck, I¡¯ll sort it out later. It¡¯s not fair to her or you if something happens, so just¡­stay away and find someone if you see her or any of the other cubs.¡±


    By the time I got through saying that it was fine and I understood, we¡¯d made it past the pool. The colonnade marked the end of the concrete sidewalk, pale flagstones taking over and fading to pale sand that crunched underfoot. It looked more like a lake or a lagoon or a slice of a wide, mountainous river than a pool ¨C at one end, rising even with the houses and the columns, was a wall of rock that the water cascaded from. It was speckled with shadowed nooks and an¡­artificial?...cave that Alyssa led me inside.


    ¡°Watch your step here ¨C depending what your manor¡¯s like you might get a little nauseous. The expansion¡¯s a bit heavier since Mom just outright stole the grottos when she moved here and they uh, didn¡¯t quite fit.¡±


    I realized what she meant as we stepped inside. It wasn¡¯t as bad as Scully¡¯s teleportation or translocation or whatever it was, but my stomach still twisted and the air swam for a second. When things snapped back into place, a canyon of twisted rock streaked with moss and lichen stretched out around us. Salt hung heavy in the air and the sun, so much brighter and hotter than it should have been, bore down on us. Little offshoots shot off from the main path, each marked with a green or a red card. Alyssa led us through the first green one, flipping the Velcro patch over to red as we went through another spot of twisted space.


    Damp stone and climbing vines stretched up around us, an aperture in the roof letting the sunlight in and onto the pool. It merged with the glow of the coral at the bottom, a dancing twilight of shimmering reflections falling over us. Just like the archive ¨C it didn¡¯t fit with the rest of the town. But this? This was beautiful.


    Alyssa flopped to the ground in a puff of sand, rolling over and then grinning up at me as I gingerly sat in front of her. ¡°So! Show me what you¡¯ve got!¡±


    Did she just wink at me? Again?

 Chapter Sixteen - Tammy

    Chapter Sixteen - Tammy


    The first thing she showed me had been easy. It was like the sapphire in the hall of mirrors, when Scully first teleported me in. Move the mana up to the surface, but don¡¯t let it out. With a little bit of guidance, I figured out how to move it around with a mix of muscle twitches and willpower. I could see the brighter spot of it through my skin, and it got itchy if I left it in one place for too long.


    The second one was harder. It was the manipulatory aspect that I¡¯d started working on. Pushing out a thread of my own mana and then bending it into various shapes ¨C but without an actual spell. My headache threatened to come back as I tried. More than once, it burst into flame when I lost focus and ¡®finished¡¯ the spell.


    I did not great, but at least ok, at that one. She gave me tips and tricks, and with her demonstrations, it got so much easier than last night.


    The third one I completely failed. It was basically combining the first two to either other people¡¯s or environmental mana. I couldn¡¯t get the haze in the bottom of the pool ¨C which was absolutely one hundred percent magical somehow, even setting aside how good it felt on my feet ¨C to move no matter how hard I tried. It felt like bashing my head against a brick wall to try to ¡®touch¡¯ a ball of unformed power that Alyssa made that hovered in front of me.


    Since neither of those worked, I turned to the bracelet. It was magic ¨C obviously ¨C and was at least supposed to be mine. So, I tried to poke it. Metaphysically.


    That was a mistake.


    The little bit of my own magic I reached out to it with vanished. A wave of cool tingling spread out from it, numbness following on its heels as it pulled in more and more of my mana. The entire arm was insensate by the time it stopped. The cursed piece of jewelry sat on my arm with a distinct sense of smugness to it. It felt more alive ¨C or active, maybe ¨C than it had been since the meeting, when Mordo¡¯s god had fussed with it.


    We took a break. Small talk, with Alyssa suggesting that I should bring a swimsuit next time. At her urging, I let the arm dangle down into the water, something about it driving the numbness away, slowly. Every time we looked away from it, the bracelet would change and jump around. Wings. Necklaces. Anklets.


    The weirdest was when somehow it replaced my belly button piercing. My shirt had ridden up enough that it was obvious when it did, but I still felt weirdly self-conscious ¨C for me that is ¨C about the sphinx staring basically at my crotch from her spot across the sand. Every time it moved her nose would twitch and then her eyes would go to its new spot. The only place it didn¡¯t touch was my left hand ¨C the branded one.


    ¡°That thing looks like its happy.¡±


    ¡°Is¡­¡± I bit my tongue trying to catch the question. ¡°It can¡¯t be alive.¡±


    She shook her head and laughed. ¡°Oh no, no, not that. Faerie things can get weird like that fast, sure, but Mom would have mentioned if this was one of those. No ¨C it¡¯s more that it¡¯s catching up on stuff it couldn¡¯t do after what Mom said went down in Mordo¡¯s. I¡¯ve got no clue what exactly it is, but I¡¯d kill for that kind of glamour.¡±


    She paused for a second, brows scrunching up as she looked out the skylight.


    ¡°Legally speaking, that¡¯s a joke. We can talk on how you can use it later ¨C let¡¯s just move on.¡±


    Once I moved back into a comfortable spot, we moved onto the fourth exercise. She wiped the grin off her face. The change from a smiling mouth full of sharp teeth to a serious girl that was like a color-shifted, youthful clone of her mother was intense.


    ¡°All the rest is important, but this is Mom¡¯s benchmark. Think of it as a gauge of familiarity, sorta. Most people with the gift can pull of the barebones stuff you have if you give them time and a hint ¨C that doesn¡¯t change with bigger spells. Give someone time and a manual and eventually they¡¯ll manage anything that isn¡¯t too complicated or quirky. Going past the basics, though, your reaction speed and ability to think on the fly start to matter. Fuck up making fire fingers, worst you need is some burn cream. Fuck up teleportation and you¡¯re a chunky person-puree.¡±


    She was kneeling right across from me, now. Her illusion had fallen away, leaving the crimson wings fully visible as she fanned them out. The serious face cracked as they rippled in a twitch. ¡°This is a mix between a mnemonic and a reflex. Uh ¨C think of it like hard-wiring yourself to do something. Like swearing when you stub your toe. Except in this case ¨C it¡¯s tying a spell you know by heart into a gesture, or a phrase. My advice ¨C go for something flashy and over the top, you don¡¯t want to be able to do it accidentally.¡±


    Stolen story; please report.


    She held out a hand, palm up. There was no fur on the palm, just smooth, pink-tinged-rose, skin. She curled her left pinkie finger up, then straightened it in a jerky motion. The glow under her skin shifted, strands pulling together within her hand and twisting into shapes I couldn¡¯t hope to follow. When they began to spin, there was a tiny tornado above her palm. The wind was a darker grey than the thundercloud that spread out above it, or the driving ¡®rain¡¯ it pulled into itself.


    ¡°Obviously, this isn¡¯t practical. It¡¯s a practice tool for me, easy to visualize but complex enough to let me catch if I¡¯m slipping. Imagine if, instead, it was a blade of wind strong enough to cut through steel. Or a jet of water that could drill through rock. Now, fair warning, I can¡¯t do either of those. Yet. Still, that¡¯s the point. Mom trains her students to protect themselves, and raising a barrier or putting down a broken summon with one motion is something that keeps us alive when we make mistakes.¡±


    She repeated the motion, twice, from scratch, letting me watch.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have compatible affinities for this ¨C Fire is your best bet. Go for something simple to start with, like a ball above your palm. Do it the hard way first and watch how it forms. Try to memorize that shape, then aim to do it again. It¡¯s early days yet for you, but remember: don¡¯t go for a common trigger. It gets instinctive and the Council will bitch at you if it goes off in public. Lord Blackleaf had to wipe memories way back when a Belmont kid scratched his nose wrong and set his girlfriend¡¯s hair on fire.¡±


    My headache was picking up again. Focusing in on the individual mana strands against the dark glow that came from my skin was a bit of a strain. For Teresa, though? It was worth it ¨C everything was worth it.


    I failed, twice. The mana shifted, but then it lurched back and the flames flared out along my fingertips like normal. The third time it flared out lower, a jet at the base of each finger that startled me as the fire fell down instead of shooting up and started to burn. Each time, the shape the fiery strands of mana took as they welled up changed, just a little.


    The fourth try had the same burn. I pushed through it, and the jets slowly nudged themselves lower, stabilizing into a wisp cradled in a cage of my fingers. Maybe half the size it should have been ¨C unignited strands of mana were leaking out and fading away ¨C but there. Thick strands branched out into finer ones, twisting in and out of view as the magic writhed in a knot that seemed deliberately hard to watch. It was shifting the entire way, before stabilizing into a pulsing tangle.


    It was still pouring out of five different spots. I knew there was no way that was efficient ¨C but optimizing that didn¡¯t matter. With a deep breath, I flicked the flame away and tried to hold the process in my mind. Then, I flicked my wrist out like a magician flourishing a bouquet of hidden flowers.


    Nothing. My hand sat there, empty and disappointing.


    Everything here was too vibrant and colorful. Alyssa was combing through the feathers on one of her wings, just watching in silence. Too many distractions. I remade the thing, flicking my wrist as the strands of mana moved to try driving home the connection. Then, I screwed my eyes shut. It was just me and the imagined lines of magic, moving the way I¡¯d seen. Nothing else was there ¨C no sand, no sun, no sphinx.


    This time, I could feel the heat as I flicked my wrist. It was under the skin, though, and not quite a sting like it should have been. But it was there, and growing hotter¡­


    ¡°No!¡± Two sharp pinpricks of pain shot through my knee. A hand slapped into my palm and my focus shattered as I tipped backwards in a cloud of sand. Alyssa¡¯s shout rang out, ¡°You can¡¯t force it like that!¡±


    There was a knot of twisted orange and red light breaking up under my skin as she pulled back. Parts of it dripped down onto the sand, but a string of the mana connected back to the sphinx as the rest sank back into the depths of my flesh. Two ruby-red drops of blood were welling out of my knee, crimson clinging to her talons. At the sight, a pulse of heat ran up from the ring that the Faerie thing was currently masquerading as.


    ¡°Ow.¡±


    I pushed it down as her eyes flicked between me and the ring. I trusted her to have a reason. I had to. I just hope that the hurt and the implied question was enough to get my meaning across and not trigger her.


    ¡°Sorry, sorry. You were a sneeze away from losing fingers there. It was like you didn¡¯t even hear me so¡­¡± She shrugged and gestured to the glittering specks of mana clumped on the sand. ¡°That¡¯s a mana blockage. Like a magic blood clot ¨C you shoved too much mana into a single spot, without an outlet or a way to reabsorb. It clumped up and the weird stuff started. Weird stuff, for the record, tends to default to ¡®explosive¡¯.¡±


    There¡¯d been a pressure building in my head with each failure. The weight I¡¯d sort of shrugged off my shoulders by optimism earlier, fading with each time I failed. Now, it came to a head.


    ¡°I guess I screwed this up too.¡±


    ¡°No! You¡¯ve got to be kidding. Seriously! It¡¯s only been a few hours and you actually managed a partial mnemonic. That¡¯s like ¨C a week¡¯s worth of proper lessons. Sure, it failed and you aren¡¯t the kind of rank amateur that¡¯s usually getting them, but that¡¯s fucking impressive! Like, girl, you¡¯re an Aufrey. You have to know what that means!¡±


    ¡°No. No, I really don¡¯t.¡±


    She stared at me, a look I didn¡¯t quite understand on her face. Not pity, but something adjacent and sad.


    ¡°C¡¯mon. I know you can do this ¨C let¡¯s try again from the top.¡±

 Chapter Seventeen - Tammy

    Chapter Seventeen ¨C Tammy


    My stomach lurched and the strand of mana dipping into the pool broke off into monochrome shards of power. The grey-tinted patch of magic I¡¯d been trying to corral dispersed, blue leaching its way back in. I flopped back on the edge of the pool, breathing hard, and stared up at the skylight that definitely wasn¡¯t showing the sun above town. My phone¡¯s gps kept glitching out when I stopped to check it, but there was no way it had started setting at three pm.


    The slanted rays painting a mosaic of shadows behind the climbing vines on the far wall begged to differ with that fact of physics.


    ¡°Better! You had it there for a bit. I know I keep saying it, but that¡¯s impressive.¡±


    I laughed. I couldn¡¯t keep it in ¨C the headache, the lurking nausea, and the inadequate feeling just kept getting worse. Yet Alyssa, the ever-effervescent sphinx, was so unwaveringly positive about things. Did she just not know how badly I¡¯d fucked up? Did she think it wasn¡¯t entirely my fault? Fuck ¨C even if I¡¯d had these lessons, I¡¯d still have screwed up this badly.


    ¡°Oi! I know that look! I¡¯m being serious ¨C girl, you don¡¯t have a drop of Water in your alignments. Sure, there¡¯s a little bit of Bone worked in there since its coming from coral, but most of that is literally an antithetical mana type. You managed to figure out enough to learn magic from an archmage¡¯s personal library ¨C the kind of stuff he didn¡¯t even have in the Archive ¨C without dying. You don¡¯t get to be down on yourself!¡±


    ¡°Big talk coming from a fucking heiress.¡±


    I never could keep my mouth shut.


    She laughed, but the tone felt fragile. Friable. ¡°Tammy. I¡¯ve been taught since before I could read. Obviously I¡¯m better, for now. If you wanna talk about heritage¡­¡±


    I didn¡¯t look up, but I could imagine her waving her arms and wings out. Or pointing at me.


    ¡°I¡¯m an Aufrey. Yep. Heard it a dozen times today.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yeah. Yup. That puts you leaps and bounds above me, the broken daughter of a radical reformist sphinx. You¡¯re one of the two living descendants of a man that stood face to face with the Wild Hunt and made them back down. I know it seems impossible ¨C but people said that about everything he did. People said that about my mom having me. You¡¯ve got help ¨C me, my mom, the entire Alexandrian Initiative ¨C all of us are at your fingertips. There¡¯s months to fix this ¨C the Fae don¡¯t lie. There¡¯s no way you can¡¯t do it. I promise, I¡¯ll be there every step of the way.¡±


    My answer was more of a mumble, right into the sand as I rolled over with no sense of decorum and not a care for how sweat-soaked and sand-caked my pants were at this point. ¡°¡¯m not. Can¡¯t even get tutored without being sick. Teresa would¡¯ve lived up to this legacy you keep harping on. I¡¯m just a failure that can¡¯t even keep her fucking mouth shut.¡±


    Something smacked into the back of my head as I clenched my fists, nails digging in again on the scabs from the council meeting. Wet heat welled up.


    ¡°Ok, shit, girl. I know blood when I smell it ¨C we¡¯re done for today. You need to get out of your head for a bit. Of fucking course you aren¡¯t living up to the Flowering Death. He was one of the greatest mages to ever live and had literal fucking gods over to dinner on a regular basis. You¡¯re a teenager tearing herself up over a mistake that you¡¯re still trying to fix. That makes you a good person, and I¡¯m not gonna let you destroy yourself over this.¡±


    Part of me knew she was right. The rest wanted to wallow, especially as my stomach lurched again. I hadn¡¯t even moved that time ¨C it wasn¡¯t fair!


    ¡°So! Mom might get mad, but since Euanthe was up and about there¡¯s no way I¡¯m gonna risk things here with you. She said I should stick to the lessons, but I¡¯m not gonna let this,¡± her tirade came closer, and then I felt the little magical tickle of the glamoured thing moving. There was a click and then a muffled hiss when she touched it. ¡°Ow ow ow fuck.¡±


    I rolled over and sat up, swaying as my head throbbed. Part of the fur on her hand was covered in ash and one of her talons was chipped. ¡°Are you ok?¡±


    She twitched. Her pupils widened, visible even from here, before she took a deep breath and relaxed, totally ignoring what I realized in retrospect was a question.


    ¡°Remind me to tell Mom that whatever that thing is, nobody else should touch it. Fae stuff is ridiculous, but on top of being a glamour that thing is trying to screw with you. I saw you give it a bit of mana earlier ¨C whatever it¡¯s trying to do, just pushing it down isn¡¯t enough. You need to block it off, when you can, since like this it¡¯s gaining ground. Given how you got it, I wouldn¡¯t trust it further than you can throw it. Since I¡¯m betting its cursed enough to come back¡­¡±


    The ¡®don¡¯t fucking trust it¡¯ went unsaid.


    ¡°You¡¯re planning something.¡±


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    ¡°Duh! I¡¯m planning a lot of things ¨C like when we can teach you a proper fireball. Right now though, it¡¯s how to eventually get Mom to help or find someone to fix that magic fuckery. Since that¡¯s not urgent, I¡¯m gonna drown it out in ice cream instead. Then I¡¯ll fill ya up with some of the juicy stuff you missed out on growing up. Assuming, of course, that you want to hear.¡±


    She stood and rocked forward, offering a hand. Her fur was soft and the talons barely pressed into my skin as she pulled me upright. She was¡­she was right about me being too nihilistic, and I¡¯d already noticed the bracelet fucking with my head. I just wish I could focus better, this headache was starting to be a problem.


    ¡°You said you didn¡¯t want to hang around here though.¡±


    ¡°Yep! That¡¯s why Mom¡¯s gonna be mad ¨C we¡¯re gonna go out. Uh, if you can drive us.¡± She flickered, a breeze picking up and throwing the sand away. Her skin twisted, and then she looked like a normal college girl with long, dark-painted nails. She had a sheepish grin on her face. ¡°I kinda don¡¯t have a license or know the way.¡±


    I steadied myself, using her hand for balance when I stumbled. We¡¯d been sitting for awhile, I just needed to let the blood get back to my head. The nausea wasn¡¯t as bad by the time we left the grotto. Outside of that unnatural canyon, there were voices burbling under the sound of falling water.


    ¡°That depends on where we¡¯re going. I only sort of grew up here.¡±


    ¡°The Inside Scoop. It¡¯s on Campus Corner ¨C you can¡¯t miss it once we drive by. There¡¯s a big gimmicky billboard on the roof.¡±


    She let go of my hand and stepped forward, turning a bit to gesture. It was kind of unintelligible ¨C my best guess was a hat? Maybe a camera.


    She¡¯d said a lot of things while we trained, and I didn¡¯t have context for most of them. Stuff about the Archive and the Alexandrian Initiative ¨C I remembered Scully¡¯s spiel about it. Fat lot of good that did me when asking her for something might mean I just died. Sure, she said there were things that people would kill to have in there. But what did that matter if I couldn¡¯t use them?


    From how the fallen-angel-looking woman behaved, I didn¡¯t think it would be as easy as taking something and trading it to the Fae to get Teresa back. Mostly because she might kill me if I did that.


    My eyes were bound to settle on something as we walked and I was distracted. That something ended up being Alyssa¡¯s back half. It was distracting ¨C the illusion was hiding her wings and tail perfectly. Too perfectly, almost ¨C the fabric where they should¡¯ve been was flat against her skin where there should¡¯ve been space. The only places it was stretched out¡­


    A cough. My eyes went up to her face and she winked over her shoulder at me.


    ¡°Let me know if something looks off back there! I¡¯m great and all, but seeing my own back is frustrating as fuck, especially for getting the movements right. I can wrap the tail around something, but wings are a problem. Mom just wears extra to cover things up when she needs to, but I don¡¯t like that. A fresh pair of eyes, or a new model, are always helpful!¡±


    I uh, didn¡¯t have a response for that. I stared off to the side, the intermittent throbs in my head doing more than enough to keep the blood from rushing to my cheeks. Getting embarrassed when a dozen people in the pool were watching me seemed worse than getting caught staring at someone¡¯s ass.


    ¡°I hope this place has more than just ice cream.¡±


    ¡°Yep! It¡¯s a diner basically ¨C they¡¯re just ice-cream themed. Rita runs it ¨C you might¡¯ve met her at the council. We¡¯ll get something in ya so you stop feeling so empty, then let you soak stuff up to get that backlash done with. Your baseline¡¯s¡­not as deep as I expected. I guess you were out of town more often than you were in that house though, growing up.¡±


    ¡°We were only here for summers and a few holidays.¡±


    Alyssa nodded, not looking back once after I pointed to remind her which car was mine. My finger was shaking a lot more than it should¡¯ve been ¨C that didn¡¯t seem right.


    ¡°Still, you¡¯re way above the human average. I¡¯ll show you some exercises tomorrow that should help. It¡¯s my job! Being nice, though, is me buying you whatever you want once we get there!¡± She turned to the pool. When I looked that way, I saw the small sphinx from earlier there in the water. Euanthe.


    Huh. So that¡¯s how a centaur would wear a one-piece. Where did they even buy that?


    The girl was still staring, wide-eyed. Her head swiveled as we moved, slowly, and one of the topless older women in the pool had a hand on her shoulder, right above the hot-pink floaties. She was still watching when I half collapsed onto the door of my car as my foot missed the drop down from the curb.


    Alyssa was looking at me from the other side of the car, frowning.


    ¡°Just ¨C just give me a second.¡± My stomach lurched and I forced it down as I popped the lock. I¡¯d driven worse than this before. The low burn creeping back into my arm, the chills and hot flashes, the headache ¨C combined they sucked, but I could make it so long as my breakfast stayed down.


    Alyssa was still talking from across the car, but it was just noise about apologizing for something. There was empty, blurry space between where her back was drawn and the car started. The illusion didn¡¯t break, but it still drew the eyes as something fundamentally weird. She cut off with a groan when she noticed me looking.


    ¡°See, that¡¯s what I mean. Wings suck. Can¡¯t wear a backpack since they don¡¯t fold up that well. Can¡¯t wear a purse without it getting hung up. Can¡¯t find clothes with pockets because women¡¯s fashion is fucked up. So I¡¯ve gotta either do it like this with my shirt even, or¡­¡± She flickered, her torso widening from the slim actual proportions to something beefier. ¡°Or do this and leave a bunch of empty space under what looks like my shirt to hide the hunchback look. It throws my entire setup off and means I have to fake everything instead of just hide the surface layers ¨C it gets really damn unbearable if I wear a dress. Mom¡¯s insane for doing it daily.¡±


    She paused. I finally dropped down into my seat before I realized she was asking for an opinion.


    ¡°Uh. The first one looks fine to me. It sounds easier and watching where you stand¡¯s probably better than hiding in an oversized copy of yourself. If I understood that right.¡± I shivered as the chills switched over to hotflashes the second the door closed and trapped me in the sun-warmed heat. ¡°Sorry the seat¡¯s a mess. Just throw it in the back.¡±


    Papers rustled, and a stressball bounced off the windshield.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine! Sorry I¡¯ve been rambling, by the way. I don¡¯t get to talk to people often, especially ones who aren¡¯t family. Everyone just thinks I¡¯m weird, then they get irritated when I keep going. Mirin¡¯s bunch cares, but aren¡¯t exactly¡­¡±


    She trailed off. It took way too long for me to realize she was done talking.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t weird. I¡¯m just¡­¡±


    She sighed.


    ¡°Yeah, I get it. This is really hitting you hard ¨C but I¡¯m here to help! We¡¯ve got this!¡±

 Chapter Eighteen - Teresa

    Chapter Eighteen - Teresa


    The Faerie left.


    He didn¡¯t just vanish. There was no missing time, no blink followed by a sudden absence. After all he¡¯d done, he just stood up. Turned. Then walked through the door.


    It felt surreal.


    It was so jarring that I spent almost a minute just staring at the slab of wood that barely stood out from the rest of the wall before it finally sank in that I was alone. Nothing was chasing me. Nobody was going to come and run me off. He wasn¡¯t behind me just waiting to shatter my dreams ¨C I looked back and checked three times to be sure. There was an actual floor to lay on, one that wasn¡¯t covered with powder and rocks and crumbly bits of charcoal that made getting comfortable impossible. The air didn¡¯t carry that faint scent of smoke that I hadn¡¯t started to notice until I¡¯d already been deep in that nearly endless corpse of a forest.


    It was even cool, as if the room was air conditioned and had some actual humidity instead of the parched stagnation outside. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the clarity and faint tang of wood as the full body shaking slowly started to fade away.


    I didn¡¯t realize that I¡¯d fallen backwards until the tears started trickling into my ears. It wasn¡¯t until I blinked that I realized blankly staring up at the ceiling had burned the light crystals and their cages into my vision. After that, the first conscious move I made was to flip over onto my stomach. Then to wipe the thick paste of ash that was left on the parts of my face that he hadn¡¯t touched away.


    I looked around after that. Actually around, not just ahead of me.


    The table and door were still there, so were the pegs and the mirror. Thinking ahead enough to turn my head I managed to take in the rest of the room. Three things that caught my eye in the part that used to be behind me. Thinking about them instead of everything else made staying calm easier.


    The first one I focused on was a basin in the corner of the room, directly across from the mirror. Height was hard to judge from the ground, but it was probably around waist-level. There were taps in the wall next to it, two of them. Wooden cylinders with curved openings and removable tabs threaded through above them. A few feet away from that ¨C which was obviously a bathtub ¨C a wooden seat was growing out of the wall.


    That was ¨C I hoped it was a toilet. Even if it was closer to an outhouse, it would be better than peeing in the woods. At least it wasn¡¯t just a hole in the floor. It being out in the open was not a pleasant thought, though, so I looked away fast.


    The second thing was the bed, right behind where I¡¯d started and centered directly across from the door. It wasn¡¯t anything grand or impressive ¨C nothing in here was, except for maybe the mirror ¨C but it looked functional. The mattress was just a thick sack of straw plopped on the ground inside of a frame grown out of the wall. A ragged-looking blanket like what you¡¯d cover a horse with was spread across the top.


    The last thing was a chest at the base of it. My backpack was sitting on top, the spear looped through its straps. The gems at and around its point were sparkling even through the blue blood congealed on them.


    Well, technically, the grey one at the point was glowing, the black ones fused with it seemed to be sucking in the light, and the brown ones on the wings were reflecting everything. I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d been doing that before, but I hadn¡¯t exactly had time or space to stare at it. There was something new next to it.


    It was ¨C or at least had been ¨C one of the boar¡¯s tusks. It was still the same length, with that subtle curve that was probably meant to help rip up undergrowth or rocks. The bottom had leather strips wrapped around it, lashing a dull, silvery metal to it as a handle. It looked like a distorted jawbone.


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    Were that boar¡¯s bones¡­


    Nope. Thinking about that was confusing and started to make me nauseous. Of course, the Fae¡¯s idea of a ¡®reward¡¯ was cutting off part of a living thing that I¡¯d been forced to kill and making it into, well, whatever that was. I wasn¡¯t up to dealing with that, especially since thinking about it was only a little bit less painful than what had just happened.


    I went over to the tub instead. Getting to my feet took a few tries, the first handful ending with me collapsing onto either my knees or my hands. The pain of each impact helped to distract me and meant that some of the shaking had a physical cause. I was still a bit unsteady once I finally managed to stay upright, but I made the walk over without any more falls.


    The tub was empty, but the two taps were obvious. Take out the tabs and they¡¯d flow, leave them in and it wouldn¡¯t. The drain at the bottom was just a wooden plug, no chain or anything, thicker on one end than the other. It was obviously meant to plug a hole that was about half the size of my fist. Not a big enough gap to catch my foot on unless I shoved my toes down it.


    I pulled the left tab out first and the water started gushing out, crystal clear and cold.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if it was drinkable, but I didn¡¯t really care. It was probably better than the stagnant, ash-laced stuff I¡¯d been living off the last few days. I let it flow and drain, checking if it was going to warm up while I rinsed my hands. The blood sluiced off first; it hadn¡¯t even had the chance to fully dry. The ash took some scrubbing, though ¨C it was caked on deeply enough that the water couldn¡¯t do it alone.


    After about thirty seconds it hadn¡¯t started to warm yet, so I cupped my hands and started using it to rinse out my mouth. The first few times I spat it came out cloudy and grey. The sooty taste faded a bit after that, but not completely. I wasn¡¯t sure if what I actually swallowed had it or if it was just what was left in my mouth. I drank until my stomach started to hurt, then managed to stop myself.


    I left the first spot running as I pulled the next tab out. The water from this one was, right off the bat, hot and steaming. It wasn¡¯t boiling, but touching it was still painful. I drew my hand back after a few seconds to see painfully red skin.


    It looked like it would only take a couple minutes with both taps running for it to fill high enough for me to sink into. I¡¯d just put in the plug when I realized that I¡¯d have to take my clothes off for it. In a room where I couldn¡¯t lock the door.


    In front of a mirror.


    After what had just happened.


    I could almost feel the fingers again as my skin started to crawl. The water rising up over my hand, warm enough to hurt, was what knocked me out of that feedback loop of thinking. Feeling it was also enough to drive home that getting clean was more important than the chance I¡¯d get seen naked if someone like him or the servant he mentioned came in. All the ash, the blood, the sweat ¨C everything that was stuck to my body after so long running in the woods. The thought of sinking into hot water and getting it all off ¨C that was more than enough to convince me.


    I didn¡¯t know when I¡¯d next get a chance to relax like this. And it wasn¡¯t like there was anything else I could do; I was sure that however long I had left before someone came in wouldn¡¯t be enough time to make a plan or learn some earth-shattering secret magic that would let me fight my way free. I was stuck here and taking care of myself when I had a chance was probably the best thing to do, even if it made my skin itch to think that it was what the Fae wanted me to do.


    I kept my back to the mirror, and more importantly the door, as I blocked the waterspouts. The water was high enough and I wanted to spend as little time exposed as possible before I was in it. Shirt first; it sent up a puff of powder as it hit the ground and I wrinkled my nose at the sudden smell of BO. Turns out that ash and sweat mixed together after days of running for your life wasn¡¯t a good deodorant; who would¡¯ve thought? I¡¯d never gotten my bra back after the ritual, so my pants were next. The zipper that apparently the Fae didn¡¯t know how to work stuck for a second before I got it down and then shimmied out of them as quickly as I could.


    Underwear joined the pile last and then I jumped in.


    Somehow, I didn¡¯t splash any of it out. I did groan, though, the sound escaping as I felt my lower back relax for the first time in days. It was just so warm ¨C nothing like the unclean and tepid heat I¡¯d gotten used to from almost everything in the burnt-out forest. It was closer to sitting in front of a fireplace, or under a nice blanket, or even to cuddling up against something big and warm and soft. Like¡­


    My thoughts started to drift as I let myself loosen up. The thing ¨C the friend, since they¡¯d been ready to help ¨C inside me noticed too and started to pulse with waves of calm and pseudo-contentment that joined me as I sunk even deeper into the water. My nose was just barely above it as I let my legs stretch out.


    It couldn¡¯t hurt to just stop thinking and let myself soak, right?

 Chapter Nineteen - Teresa

    Chapter Nineteen ¨C Teresa


    The next thing I knew there was a knock on the door.


    I was still naked.


    The water was cloudy enough at this point that nothing was really visible. That did absolutely nothing to stop the sudden jolt of panic as I realized that I¡¯d lost track of time and someone was here. It probably wasn¡¯t the Faerie ¨C they were knocking ¨C but that didn¡¯t make much of a difference. I flailed in a sad attempt at turning to face the door, while simultaneously trying to keep everything important under the rim of the tub.


    Predictably, some water splashed out. It hit the wall and ran down in filthy streaks that would be more at home on a building next to a muddy road. Gross.


    The knock came again before I¡¯d managed to settle into my new position and sort out exactly how my knees should work to keep my head at the right height. This time the door creaked open a few inches, the sound sending the same panicked jolt through me again before it stopped and I realized that nobody had barged in. The edge of the door had to be almost six inches thick ¨C that just seemed ridiculous.


    Opening it made sense after seeing that, though; it would be hard to hear anything through the door.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am? Are you awake?¡±


    It was a woman¡¯s voice. Soft and almost definitely Human, since there were no odd reverberations. No weird weight or presence to the words, either, and none of the other qualities I¡¯d started to associate with the Fae. Nonthreatening in almost every way.


    That didn¡¯t stop me from flinching and covering myself with an arm, even with water and a door in the way. My stomach was still trying to untie itself from a knot but answering was probably the best idea.


    ¡°Y ¨C yes.¡±


    It was amazing how unsteady that single word was.


    ¡°Oh, good! Are you ready for me yet?¡±


    ¡°Ready?¡± I swallowed hard and gripped the edge of the tub with the hand that wasn¡¯t across my chest until my knuckles turned from the red of flesh soaking in hot water to the pale white of bloodless skin. ¡°Uh, I¡¯m in the bath. Can¡­¡±


    ¡°Perfect!¡±


    She cut me off and the door swung wide open. I made a noise I couldn¡¯t really describe and ducked down until my eyes were just barely level with the edge.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad I caught you now; I¡¯ve got some oils that will be just wonderful for your skin and hair.¡±


    The woman that stepped in looked almost normal. Maybe a bit old fashioned, at worst. She was wearing a grey dress that was cinched at the waist with a leather cord and her arms were full of various bars, bottles, and things I couldn¡¯t really see from here. She stopped next to the table and started dumping them down, turning in the process.


    From this side, I could see that her silver-streaked brown hair was tied back into a complex bun. My heart hadn¡¯t slowed down from the surprise yet when she left and came back with a second armload of supplies. It was still pounding in my throat hard enough that I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d be able to get words out if I tried. So I just watched her carrying things.


    Her face was a lot like my boarding school¡¯s headmistress, though with fewer wrinkles and no moles.


    She was humming something under her breath as she worked, acting like this was totally normal and she wasn¡¯t in the same room as a naked stranger in some literal fairytale tree. As if this was just another day for her. She went out a third time and came back with a covered dish and a jug that she sat on the other end of the table.


    I managed to shove the anxiety and fear at having her this close down enough that my voice was steadier when I said, ¡°Um ¨C I meant not to come in? Because, uh, I¡¯m naked?¡±


    There was a loud, long laugh as she draped the fluffiest towel I¡¯d ever seen across the top of the stool.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, I¡¯ve raised six daughters and worked in this House for longer than I even remember. Trust me; whatever you¡¯ve got there, I¡¯ve seen it and worse. You¡¯ve had a rough time I hear, so just relax and let me help.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°No butts Ma¡¯am, unless it¡¯s yours rolling over in that tub so we can get started. That damned ash outside the House is a devil-and-a-half to get out of hair, so just leave that to me and get yourself all scrubbed up. Master Fearghal will be by soon enough for your measurements; he¡¯ll be much nicer if you¡¯re presentable and we don¡¯t make him wait.¡±


    She glanced at the water and wrinkled her nose.


    ¡°Might want to drain some of that and refill it, Ma¡¯am. We don¡¯t have time for the House to purify it all up here and we don¡¯t want that gunk getting stuck to you again.¡±


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    The water was starting to cool down and would be a lot nicer if I refilled it with something warmer. Plus it was pretty gross looking and I could feel some slime at the bottom that had probably come off of me. On the other hand, I¡¯d be completely uncovered if I drained it far enough to make a difference and then the water would be sort of clear even after I refilled it.


    Would not doing it be enough to upset him again?


    She must¡¯ve seen something on my face because her smile shrank.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be over here while you do it, Ma¡¯am. Just let me know when you¡¯re ready.¡±


    She moved the towel and then sat down on the stool and started sorting through what she¡¯d brought in. After a few seconds of watching her I turned over again and made up my mind. It took effort to pull out the plug. Once I did, it drained fast. It was a lot quieter than I expected ¨C there wasn¡¯t even a rush of bubbles. Just a tangible suction as the water sluiced down to wherever it was going.


    The cold air wasn¡¯t quite as welcome as the water dropped under my shoulders. I started shivering by the time it was down to my propped-up knees and decided that, since all the sludge at the bottom was gone, it would be good enough once it was refilled. I pulled out the hot water tab again before I jammed the plug back into place. What poured out burned when it got close to me. So long as it wasn¡¯t splashing straight onto my knees I could bear it, though.


    The pain was grounding, in a way. And cleansing ¨C if I was doing what that Faerie wanted, it should hurt.


    The woman¡¯s voice chimed in again as the tub refilled. Almost, but not quite, melancholic.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t keep thinking about whatever hurts you have, Ma¡¯am. Misery brings nothing worth dwelling on, believe you me. Whatever they are, whatever brought you here? It can¡¯t keep you down. You¡¯re an Aufrey, Ma¡¯am; perseverance and poise are in your blood.¡±


    I¡¯d started tuning her out at first ¨C what did she know, right? She lived or worked here or whatever and acted like everything was ok after what had happened? Why should I listen? ¨C but then I heard that last bit and snapped around to look at her. Nothing splashed out this time when I flipped over, though the water sprayed across my back for a few seconds and I almost screamed. I was biting my tongue once I sank back under the surface.


    She still had that small smile on her face. But now it looked sad.


    I couldn¡¯t bring myself to keep that brief flash of anger I¡¯d had at her going.


    ¡°You know who I am?¡±


    ¡°Not specifically, no. But you Aufreys are hard to mistake.¡± She winked and chuckled, ¡°Well, that¡¯s true. Really. It isn¡¯t why though ¨C Master Fearghal told me. Told everyone, in truth; your grandfather was quite a big name around here.¡±


    ¡°Did ¨C did you know him?¡±


    The pain of losing him flared up again and the words caught in my throat.


    ¡°Not closely, Ma¡¯am. I¡¯m sorry. I met him, once. He came through here rather often. I even saw your mother come through. His visits were always the talk of the House and well, us servants do love our gossip.¡±


    She picked up the pitcher, a few vials, and a white bar of what was probably soap and started walking over.


    ¡°I can tell you more while we work, but you should probably turn over and scooch a bit. I¡¯ll need some space to deal with all of this. Did you roll around on that cursed forest floor?¡±


    The wolf holding me down flashed up in my mind again and I screwed my eyes shut. I scalded my hands trying to slot the stopper back into the tap without looking. The burn drowned out the phantom pain in my shoulder. Once I opened them again, I relaxed. Just a little. The water was cloudy enough that I felt sort of ok with her being this close. Especially if she could tell me anything about this side of Grandpa¡¯s life.


    Or about ¨C about Mom.


    I couldn¡¯t stop myself from pulling away when she touched me, hunching forward and out of reach. Even though her hand was warm and calloused, I couldn¡¯t feel anything but the smooth, cold, rigid fingers of the invisible ones. The shaking flared up, sending the water rippling. My throat closed and tears suddenly started flowing again.


    I didn¡¯t scream. But it was close.


    ¡°This is because of the Masters, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer. Hearing her say it like that ¨C imagining calling the Faeries that myself ¨C made me sick. I heard the scrape of wood on wood and then the sound of her settling down onto the stool next to me. She didn¡¯t try to touch me.


    ¡°I guess you didn¡¯t choose to come here, then. It ¨C there¡¯s nothing I can do to change that, Ma¡¯am. You¡¯re here and that¡¯s that. You must¡¯ve seen the poorer sides of our hosts, and I know there¡¯s a bushel and a half of them. It must feel like you¡¯re drowning in all of this, right? That the world¡¯s ending and that maybe dying would be better than suffering through it all? I¡¯ve seen it so many times, Ma¡¯am. I promise you; things will get better.¡±


    My nails dug into my arms again, the pain dulled by the heat. I wouldn¡¯t¡­


    She wasn¡¯t wrong though. I would rather die than let it happen again. Rather go back into the Woods and run until they eventually let something kill me.


    ¡°Getting through this ¨C it¡¯ll be hard on you. That can¡¯t be helped, but I swear that there is good in this House, and it¡¯s not just in us servants. Master Fearghal and his cabal have claimed you and they are rather exacting, but all you have to do is follow their orders. Meet their standards. Be someone that they can show off as a status symbol and your life will be better. They aren¡¯t cruel for cruelty¡¯s sake ¨C there are some here that are. It¡¯s a dreadful thing, really ¨C so you¡¯re better off than some young things I see come in. I¡¯ll help you figure out what they want and how to meet their standards. I know it¡¯ll be hard after whatever they did ¨C but really, it won¡¯t happen again. Not so long as you play along.¡±


    When I sat in silence during her pause, she sighed.


    ¡°You¡¯re physically safe if I remember it right. That deal your grandfather made should guarantee that much, and somehow, he bound an entire Court to it. He must have cared to go that far. I don¡¯t know how you were taken despite it, but just know that they can¡¯t properly hurt or kill you. Any pain, anything they do ¨C the only way it can touch you is if you let it. If they go too far while I¡¯m here, I¡¯ll stop it. I might just be a servant, but the House has taken a liking to me. The Masters won¡¯t second-guess me lightly.¡±


    Somehow, I doubted that. Faeries couldn¡¯t lie, or at least that¡¯s what everything said. There was nothing about the people they took having the same restrictions. For all I knew she could just be wrong. It wouldn¡¯t be right to assume the worst, though. She was probably just misguided or making stuff up to soothe me.


    ¡°You don¡¯t believe me on any of this, do you? I don¡¯t blame you, really. I do think that you¡¯ll see what I mean if you just look. That¡¯s more than enough doom and gloom now, though!¡± She clapped her hands, the sharp sound jolting me out of my brooding. ¡°I promised to tell you more about your grandfather, and you¡¯ve got to get to scrubbing. You don¡¯t have to talk unless you¡¯re ready to, Ma¡¯am, but could you nod when you¡¯re ready for me to start with your hair?¡±

 Chapter Twenty - Tammy

    Chapter Twenty ¨C Tammy


    ¡°Shit you really aren¡¯t ok. Rita¡¯ll know how to fix this. She has to.¡±


    Alyssa was talking mostly to herself. I was leaning on her by the time we passed into the shadow of the building¡¯s outrageously oversized sign. The trench coat, with its propped up newspaper and empty glasses, proudly proclaimed the building as The Inside Scoop.


    My hot flashes had swung straight back to chills on the way here and sharp turns of my head meant my vision started to grey out. Honestly? I shouldn¡¯t have been driving. Even Alyssa somehow felt cold ¨C and I knew from the last few times that she ran a lot hotter, body-temp wise, than I usually did.


    I was owlishly looking around at the gimmicks sprawled across the store while the sphinx went up to order. Newspaper clippings, comic issues, superhero merchandise. It was exactly the kind of tacky that Teresa and I would have loved as kids, but Grandpa had never really taken us. Spontaneous trips had never been his thing. Just like teaching and telling us about magic had never been his thing.


    If he¡¯d just cared none of this would have happened. I wouldn¡¯t be swaying on my feet trying to stay upright. I also wouldn¡¯t have a cute definitely-not-in-any-way-human girl this close to me. Not nearly enough of an upside to make all of this worthwhile.


    Before I knew what was happening, she was tugging me along to the back and pulling out a chair with the ear-piercing squeak of rubber on tile. I slumped forward onto the table, closing my eyes as the sphinx fussed around. There were audible swishes as her wings fluttered in place, the click of nails on a table. The distant hum of kitchen equipment.


    Then the clack of heels on tile, the swing of a door, and a voice that sounded vaguely familiar. Like a splash of green across dark skin, swimming through a drunken haze.


    Oh fuck, this was someone from the council meeting.


    I took a deep breath of cold air and pushed myself up. The room spun, a lightheaded dizziness that didn¡¯t have the warmth to it of being drunk. My hands were shaking even holding the edge of the table, but I could handle a little pain to meet the woman¡¯s eyes as she stared me down. Actually looking at her, I realized something.


    I recognized her.


    The black woman in an understated suit had been at the funeral, one of the people that filed past a closed casket that we¡¯d never met. The police said he hadn¡¯t been in good shape when they found him. So¡­wait. How¡¯d they get in if things were locked down? It¡­


    ¡°You seem to have a talent at falling into trouble, Miss Aufrey.¡± Her eyes flicked over to Alyssa, her mouth in a grim line, its edges just as sharp as her tone and her eyeliner. ¡°There are a number of people who would be quite concerned to see you two together. Including a certain three-letter agency sniffing around my business because you¡¯ve been ignoring them. To what, pray tell, do I owe this pleasure?¡±


    I started to stammer out a warning about the questions. She raised an eyebrow and touched her necklace. The emerald flashed, a dozen tiny symbols flaring bright enough that I screwed my eyes shut.


    ¡°I assure you, I have protections. That the heir of Aufrey is here with another of our town¡¯s sordid little secrets, without her own, is worrisome. Especially seeing as she happens to be out from beneath her guardian¡¯s wings. I would tell that spirit to keep watch, if I were you, but let¡¯s move onto something much more concerning. Now please, let the woman who can string more than two words together speak.¡±


    I nearly bit my tongue before Alyssa started in. She was still pacing as she said, ¡°We were training. She drained herself and wasn¡¯t feeling great, so we came for food. She¡¯s gotten so much worse since we left ¨C I don¡¯t get it. She should be fine. This isn¡¯t what¡¯s supposed to happen.¡±


    ¡°You are most certainly right on that. The Aufrey that sold her sister to the Fae, being taught by the sphinx that her own people want buried and forgotten. It very much shouldn¡¯t be happening, and people with looser lips might be very interested in talking about that. If you¡¯d be so kind, get to the point about why you brought trouble to my doorstep.¡±


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°You need to help her! She¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, fine, fine, if I¡¯m paid. You,¡± she sighed and pointed to me. Her voice changed, less playful and a lot more brusque as she stepped closer. ¡°Shakes. Light-sensitivity. Shivering? I¡¯m assuming there¡¯s nausea and a headache, deep aches, and dizziness?¡±


    I nodded. My head didn¡¯t stop spinning even when the motion was through.


    ¡°Fever, chills, tingling, or static?¡±


    I stammered out, ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Good news ¨C I can help. It isn¡¯t cheap, but neither of you are strapped for resources. Bad news is, you¡¯re going to have a lot of explaining to do if someone that gives a damn notices that Tamara here shot straight past all the intermediate steps and is tits-deep in mana starvation.¡±


    I blinked away stars and nearly fell off the chair as a sharp stabbing pain flared and then died in my side. She sighed, and pinched her nose as I started coughing.


    ¡°I suppose I can suspend payment. Please, try not to die too quickly.¡±


    She stormed out as my head hit the table again. Dying? That ¨C no. I couldn¡¯t be. Teresa would¡­


    ¡­Teresa would be the only heir. Would that¡­


    Someone was rubbing my back. It felt good even when something hard pressed in ¨C the pain there was better than the pain in my head. And the creeping, cold, numbness settling into my bones. Where the Faerie magic anchored itself to me ¨C a ring looped around my ear and the branded palm ¨C it twisted into something else. Faint, lukewarm heat and a promise of something else. Whispered, just out of my hearing.


    One was beckoning. The other, grounding.


    The rubbing turned to shaking and I blinked my eyes open for a second, colors blurring as the glow under my skin dimmed in the Sight.


    ¡°Tammy, seriously, say something. You¡¯re scaring me.¡±


    It felt like my lips were moving, but I wasn¡¯t sure if anything came out. My tongue felt like it was wrapped in cotton someone had soaked in vinegar and hot sauce. The distant creak of crackling wood filled one ear, the rush of blood the other. Her hands came back, and that was nice. Grounding. It was easier to focus on the touch, and how it would be better to feel like when Alara had been asking me things. I couldn¡¯t see right right now, I knew that, but Alyssa was definitely prettier and not as old or intimidating.


    I wonder if she could do that thing. Safely. Getting to forget about my problems for a few minutes sounded amazing right now.


    ¡°Please¡­don¡¯t stop¡­¡±


    The hands stopped. Rude. They pulled me upright, and there was some clinking. The muffled sound of voices that might as well have been coming through an ancient TV covered in static. It pushed away the other sounds, then something freezing cold pressed against my lips. A soft, warm hand squeezed my cheek. Then the¡­spoon? Probably a spoon¡­clicked against my teeth as something red and soft brushed across my nose and I sneezed. My arms flew out and latched onto whatever they could catch.


    Something cold and deliciously sweet smeared itself across my tongue. With it, came magic. The pain from the sneeze, the aches¡­everything vanished.


    A wave of cold clarity washed across me. Spreading, slowly, from my mouth and sliding down my throat with what I realized was chunky ice cream. It pushed the fuzz away from my head and snapping things back into focus, the kaleidoscoping colors resolving themselves into a world.


    Rita was standing a bit back, a literally sparkling bowl in her hands. Alyssa¡¯s arm was trapped in my grip, soft and warm and yielding.


    ¡°Now that the situation is less urgent, I believe it¡¯s time to discuss payment. Accounting for my time and what I¡¯m providing, as well as existing commitments to the Pride of Inquiry and the House of Aufrey ¨C fifty-thousand dollars or equivalent seems more than fair.¡±


    Fifty grand? For this? For that bowl. We were rich but that was ridiculous. And yet ¨C I could already feel the fuzz starting to push back into my brain. The ache had just been delayed, not stopped, and the cooling wave hadn¡¯t made it much past my arms. Whatever that was I knew I needed the rest of it.


    Alyssa¡¯s wing moved before I could spit out the spoon. It trailed across my shoulder and face as she reached out to pluck a long, beautiful, scarlet and crimson feather.


    Rita¡¯s eyes were locked on it when I managed to pry my fingers loose from Alyssa. Her face was a neutral mask. ¡°No refunds. No change. No receipt. I need an oath: I¡¯m not going on the Prides¡¯ list for this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got conditions too.¡± The sphinx coughed. Her voice was hoarse. ¡°You finish this. If that isn¡¯t enough, bring out whatever else you think she needs. You tell us how it happened and how to stop it from happening again. Mom¡­mom can¡¯t know we messed up this badly. It would¡­¡±


    I nodded, jerkily and she cut off mid-sentence. The spoon clattered to the table as I managed to spit it out. I could barely recognize my own voice.


    ¡°I won¡¯t say anything.¡±


    Rita looked between us. Slowly. Then she sat the bowl down, just out of reach, and held out a hand. Alyssa took it. The world pressed down again around them, the ripple of magic that rolled out setting my nerves on fire and sending tears to my eyes. When I blinked them away, the feather was nowhere to be found. Rita had taken a seat across from us, staring inscrutably at me.


    The sphinx pressed the spoon back into my trembling hands, a dollop of excessively sparkly ice cream on it. The cold rush this time was just as intense, tension I didn¡¯t even know I had draining out of me as my head cleared again. Until her question came and I choked.


    ¡°So. Aufrey. Are you human?¡±

 Chapter Twenty-One - Tammy

    Chapter Twenty-One - Tammy


    ¡°I ¨C you ¨C what? Of course I am!¡±


    Rita raised an eyebrow and looked over to Alyssa, who was leaning forward in the seat next to me. The sphinx¡¯s pupils were dilated and just starting to shrink back again. She was gripping the table hard and the fur up her arms was standing on end.


    ¡°Truth as far as she knows it. I¡¯m sorry Tammy, I¡­¡±


    The alchemist who, at this point, I was starting to think might be a bit more than that cut her off with a wave of her hand. Alyssa¡¯s mouth moved, but the sound just died as the air between us shimmered. It faded when she slumped and shut her mouth.


    ¡°Good enough. Objective truth is so much less convenient and I¡¯m not going to watch the heiress to an arsenal that can level countries get dominated by someone with an instinctive predilection for conquest just to get it. That sounds hot, but no ¨C too young for me and I need plausible deniability. We¡¯re pushing this far enough as it is.¡±


    She shook her head before I could process any of the things she¡¯d just said. Her grin was predatory as she went on, ¡°So. You¡¯re human, then. Mmhmm. Must be quite a medical mystery ¨C since mana starvation and rejection do not happen to anyone that that label still fits.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m¡­¡±


    ¡°Kid, let me talk. You¡¯re an Aufrey, and we all know your old man got up to some weird shit. You don¡¯t get names like his without that. The Rain of Blood, The Flowering Death, The Archshaper ¨C shit, I don¡¯t even know them all. Thing is, he did some of everything. Necromancy, biomancy, Blood: he was one of the bastions of forbidden magic that nobody could touch. You¡¯re his kid¡¯s kid, of course something¡¯s gonna be weird with you. This matters because, if you run yourself that low on mana again? Either you¡¯ll get back here fast or you¡¯ll die.¡±


    She gestured. I thought for a second she was doing something magic, but nothing happened as she traced out a square and tapped the middle of it.


    ¡°See, humans are boring. Stick us in a box without mana for a month and we¡¯ll just get cranky. Maybe stab you a bit when we get out. Stick your friend there in it and she¡¯ll get weak. If her wings worked before, well, they¡¯d be atrophied at the end. Too weak to stab you. Oh, and she wouldn¡¯t be able to have kids. For people like her, the magical parts of the body would wither and die, but they¡¯d live. Stick an elemental in there and there¡¯d be nothing left by the end. For this metaphor? You¡¯re the elemental.¡±


    My hands started shaking again. I took another bite, and the relief felt¡­less this time.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°Tough luck ¨C your friend here just paid me to say it. Now, to up the ante, say you buried a fire elemental in a casket made from water crystals. It wouldn¡¯t just fade away ¨C it would die, messily, screaming all the while. That¡¯s still you. Whatever the old bastard did, it looks like you¡¯ll only be at home in and around your manor. Outside of it you¡¯ve gotta keep your reserves up - whatever that off-color mana you¡¯ve got is, it needs to be concentrated enough to convert your passive intake. If it can¡¯t, well, I was watching your body start to eat itself when you got here. It¡¯s fascinating. I¡¯d pay you for a few samples. Just for research purposes.¡±


    She raised that same eyebrow again. By this point I was getting sure that she¡¯d done her makeup just to accentuate that. She sighed when it got obvious that I wasn¡¯t going to answer.


    ¡°Offer¡¯s on the table. Guess you¡¯re gonna be boring and just pay cash if you need my network though. Damn rich kids. You¡¯re worse than the frats. Feh, my job¡¯s almost done ¨C I told you what happened, and there¡¯s how to stop it. If you screw up again, get more of this: the potion in that ice cream¡¯s a few of my specialties, mixed in with purified and stabilized mana. Don¡¯t worry about what it¡¯s usually for ¨C just be glad that your body¡¯s at least sort of processing it. Too much too quickly and you might have a stroke, by the way. Now, I¡¯m out of here. Use the room as long as you want ¨C someone¡¯ll be back with food later. Remember: call me if you need anything.¡±


    She flicked a business card across the table. Alyssa caught it before it could fly off, then Rita was gone, the door swinging shut behind her and leaving the room quiet and empty except for us and the wonderful, wonderful bowl of ice cream that had apparently saved my life.


    The shaking hands might have been from nerves. It had almost happened before ¨C the first time I wrecked the car and somehow came out unhurt. The night in the hospital when we were still at the boarding school, before Grandpa flew down himself and I recovered and everyone ignored it. The pain was still there when I thought about it even though I somehow hadn¡¯t scarred. Each time I barely saw it coming, until someone else pulled me back.


    It hadn¡¯t been Teresa this time. She wasn¡¯t here to save me. And if something went wrong¡­


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault Tammy. It¡¯s mine. I didn¡¯t think ¨C it shouldn¡¯t have happened like this. We¡¯ll just watch things going forward.¡±


    I shook my head and, conscious of Rita¡¯s warning, resisted the urge to take another bite when it started to spin. I could deal with it and space out the doses. Meeting Alyssa¡¯s eyes was harder.


    ¡°Hah. No, this is all me. The wild child, fucking up everything I touch. It¡¯s funny ¨C grandpa¡¯s the only one that never said I was a bad influence, and that¡¯s just because he didn¡¯t care. The tutors, my classmates, the teachers. Even Teresa said it once when we were fighting. I was cursed even before the Fae. So you had to sell a feather that apparently is Really Important to help me because the other option was watching me die, too out of it to even offer to pay.¡±


    I might have been incoherent, but that was obvious. The feather trade was something that could get her in big trouble. I¡¯d sworn secrecy ¨C the memory of that horrific pain as the mana rippled across me wasn¡¯t going to fade any time soon ¨C but that she even had to do it made me feel terrible.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°I get it if I¡¯m too much trouble. I¡¯m sure your mom can find someone else to deal with me.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    A wing dropped onto my shoulder, an odd mix of soft and stiff until she pulled it back. When I looked over, her mouth was hanging open. She looked like she was on the edge of crying. ¡°Sorry, sorry, but I don¡¯t see where that came from. I told you I¡¯d be here to help every step of the way, like, an hour ago. I¡¯m not going back on my word at the first roadblock, or at seeing you hurt. I just¡­I don¡¯t know why you¡¯d think so little of me.¡±


    I turned away, the shakes soothing as I finally gave in and took a bite. Something in my forehead throbbed as I watched the bright river of magic settle into my stomach, slowly fading away. My skin started to get its own softer, darker glow back, but that hadn¡¯t spread very far yet.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean that you were lying. It¡¯s just that I don¡¯t see why you¡¯d put up with this. I barely remember getting here. I don¡¯t know what I said or did, and I really don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to get any less depressing as this goes.¡±


    ¡°Tammy, I¡¯m your friend! Or at least, I want to be. Just because I¡¯m teaching you doesn¡¯t mean everything has to be a lesson or an exchange. You¡¯re the first person in years to really talk to me, like, at all. Everyone else has been family. Or Belmont jerks. Or Rita. People that look at me and see a collared monster, not a person. Mirin and them care, but¡­ you¡¯re my one chance to feel normal, since Mom doesn¡¯t plan to ever let me go to Pinecrest or wander out. She¡¯ll just keep bringing in tutors and aunts and distant cousins, trying to prove I¡¯m an actual exception and not a failure. I¡¯ll be fucking lucky if I get to leave town before I¡¯m two goddamned centuries old.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­¡±


    I could feel the glare on my back.  She was still choked up as she hissed, ¡°Asking a lady her age is rude. Sphinxes grow slow and I¡¯m not even a quarter of the way there yet, if you must know.¡±


    ¡°I guess misfits like us are always gonna be stuck with each other.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit!¡± A hand landed on my back. I twitched, then slowly relaxed, slumping onto the table and hiding my face. ¡°Since we¡¯re stuck here, well, I did promise you some juicy stuff. If you¡¯re up for it, I can let you know a bit about things now.¡±


    ¡°That would be nice. I just¡­I feel so lost, about everything.¡±


    I assumed she was nodding. She patted my back again, then hummed a few offkey bars to an oddly familiar song. I couldn¡¯t quite place it, but it felt like I should have.


    ¡°No duh! People expect me to just know stuff too, so, I get it. Well uh, to start with¡­there¡¯s actually a lot of practitioners here compared to a normal town, but only three dominant factions now that your grandpa¡¯s gone. He drew some big players in like the Cult and the Pride. I¡¯m not allowed near the Cult for a bunch of reasons, but I hear you¡¯ve met Mordo so, that should sum them up pretty well.¡±


    ¡°Frat guys and girls with magic, yeah. I¡­no, they definitely said they were ¡®like a Pope that can fuck¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Yep! Their clergy is a bit weird about pronouns ¨C you probably noticed that. The Drunken God wants their worshippers to be flexible. Literally, almost all of them are bi, and past a certain point stuff gets weird. I hear their patron starts to change things around so the servants are as fluid as they are. They¡¯re uh, like, two dozen different harvest and fertility gods and goddesses that got squished together as they tried to stay relevant, so apparently the entire thing is a bit chaotic depending on what face is up at the front.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so that¡¯s why Mordo¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Hot, right? That¡¯s very much intentional. I wish I could go see them perform, but I¡¯m not allowed out alone and my aunts won¡¯t take me. Prudes.¡±


    I blushed as a wave of heat rolled through my spinning head. She wasn¡¯t wrong, though. Mordo had been a real piece of androgynous eye candy from what I could actually remember of that night. Hadn¡¯t Weylan said¡­


    ¡°They do under-21 nights on Tuesdays I think. Maybe we could go ¨C you wouldn¡¯t be alone if I was there.¡± The words came out unbidden, like my tongue was moving on its own.


    ¡°Great! It¡¯s a date then!¡±


    D¡­did she just?


    ¡°Anyway! You¡¯ve met me and Mom, seen our compound, and gotten a feel for what we are. Officially speaking, we¡¯re the Pride of Inquiry, smallest and youngest of the Eleven Prides. Mom brought us out here in the 1930s so she could bug your grandpa a bit more, and a lot of people started getting skittish about her, specifically, leading the family this far out. Most of our people are still in and around the fertile crescent.¡±


    The heat faded and my tongue ended up mostly back in my control. I took another bite, savoring the cold, before I spoke up, ¡°You¡¯re¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know. Naming an entire nation-state of Sphinxes ¨C and that¡¯s literally what a Pride is ¨C after asking questions. It was Mom¡¯s decision when she made her case to the other matriarchs. Since we¡¯re a foreign government and our people haven¡¯t gone the way of the Djinn yet, everyone¡¯s a bit careful about provoking us. We have a bit of an outsized influence around here, though it¡¯s not like I get a say in how we throw that weight around.¡±


    ¡°That really sucks. The last one is gonna be the Belmonts. Beatrice and her family. I know them ¨C we went to galas a few times. We¡¯re between their generations so they didn¡¯t have kids our age, but I saw her at the council. I can¡¯t imagine that they aren¡¯t big players.¡±


    ¡°Yup! Though it might be best to say they¡¯re big fish in a small pond. They insist on calling themselves House Belmont in practitioner circles. They aren¡¯t one of the old families that goes back to Charlemagne¡¯s conquest, though, so it¡¯s just bullshit. They¡¯ve been here mooching off your grandad and his library for centuries, and every few generations they tried to kill him.¡±


    I whipped my head toward her as the words clicked. She made an x with her hands, fast, while shaking her head.


    ¡°No, no, they didn¡¯t pull it off! People checked. Thoroughly. The Belmonts have their share of sins, but they definitively did not kill your grandpa. Even the Keepers of the Ivory Grave dipped in to make damn sure of that. One of the kids Beatrice drove off is their local liaison, and trust me, she¡¯d take any chance to screw over the family. I can¡¯t remember her name ¨C she says I¡¯m not her job whenever she comes by and then ignores me ¨C but the point is, there¡¯s no love lost there and even they cleared the Belmonts. A house of average enchanters just can¡¯t put down someone like your grandpa. Their last real prodigy was apprenticed to him, even, after getting kicked out. That was back when your mom was alive.¡±


    I heard that last bit, and my mouth started running before I could stop it.


    ¡°Wait. Wait. Wait! This apprentice was recent? They knew Mom? Could I find them? I¡­¡±


    Alyssa¡¯s entire body tensed as the first question left my lips. Her wings shivered and she wrapped her arms around herself. By the second, her eyes had widened, the pupils wide and dark. Her fur shivered, standing on end, while her tail stuck straight out instead of curling around her leg like usual. Her lips drew back to show sharp, sharp teeth. By the time I shut up, her eyes were darting around, settling anywhere but me.


    Her chest heaved with each breath, wobbling visibly. I couldn¡¯t focus on it ¨C she was shoving herself up, her body dissolving into a blur that lasted three blinks. The illusion that snapped down around her was harder to focus on, like my eyes kept sliding away.


    ¡°I ¨C FUCK!¡± The words were half-growled, half-roared as she lunged past me. She visibly fought to correct a lurch toward me before she made it to the door. ¡°Don¡¯t do that! I¡¯ll¡­. damn it!¡±


    There was a clatter as she forced her way out. Someone complained, but all I could hear were her choked parting words. Just before she was gone, a tear the tone of freshly-spilled blood fell to the floor.

 Chapter Twenty-Two - Teresa

    Chapter Twenty-Two ¨C Teresa


    Over the next few minutes, I managed to calm the shaking. It was harder to convince myself to listen to what the lady was saying. It ¨C it had felt dispassionate, what he¡¯d done. The only real, recognizable emotion from the Faerie had been when he hurt me. The second the pain had started, he¡¯d gotten all weak.


    Why hadn¡¯t that happened with the wolf? Or the boar?


    Well aware that she was still there behind me, I took a deep breath and unclenched my fists. That thought could come later. Right now, I was as ready as I¡¯d ever be for this. The tension didn¡¯t leave me, but I managed to squeak out an assent.


    As if she¡¯d been standing there ready the entire time, she chirped, ¡°Great!¡±


    A little shuffling later she¡¯d set a bar of soap on the edge of the tub. A blocky, white rectangle. Then she scooped a pitcher down into the water beside me and tilted my head back before pouring.


    I twitched at the touch. A dark stain spread across the water, slowly fading as it dispersed.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t introduced myself yet, have I? I¡¯m Agatha, though that name belongs to the House these days. I do this and that for it and the Masters, but I suppose I¡¯m the closest thing to a housemistress for those of us not bound in specifics.¡± She snorted in a way that made imagining her smile reappearing easy. ¡°Heavens know I¡¯m no proper maid these days, for all that I do the work of one.¡±


    She started to massage my head, almost. One hand making little circles on my scalp while the other combed through my hair and untangled the leftover knots. Both present and accounted for, with no mystery extras.


    I started to unwind a little bit under her touch, eyes closing as I listened to her humming. It almost sounded like Greensleeves? I started to slouch down into the water again until she hooked her arms under my shoulders and pulled me upright again. The unexpected contact barely made me twitch, this time.


    That ¨C that wasn¡¯t right.


    My eyes snapped open. I stiffened as I realized how quickly I¡¯d jumped from not even being able to look at myself to letting another woman wash my hair while I was bathing. My heart started beating faster again as I stiffened, but she didn¡¯t seem to notice. Or at least, she didn¡¯t care.


    I did, though; was this a normal response to something traumatic like the last few days had been? I could see it making sense that I¡¯d latch onto the most normal thing ¨C or person ¨C that I¡¯d seen since this entire nightmare had started. But that still didn¡¯t feel right. I was in the home of actual Faeries; how did I know that this wasn¡¯t some illusion? Magic? A calming spell?


    I mean, sure, I might have needed it. I still didn¡¯t trust anyone, especially a stranger, to mess with my mind.


    I knew one way to check, though it had me wrapping my arms around my stomach before I tried it. I was expecting it to hurt or make me nauseous, since I still didn¡¯t have a good understanding of it and almost every experience since the ritual had just been one pain after another.


    I waited until her hands moved away and then turned just far enough to see her as she unstoppered a vial, letting out something that smelled faintly of flowers. Then I slipped into that other vision, the magical Sight, and braced for a wave of nausea and sensory overload.


    It never came.


    The room looked darker than before. The light crystals were fainter like this, somehow, and the walls might as well have been sucking in the light that I saw magic as. The brightest thing was, well, me. The water under me was even murkier like this, but dark light poured through it around my limbs. My skin was paradoxically brighter than anything else I could see and¡­ oh.


    The water hid absolutely nothing when I looked at it like this.


    I looked away and tried to spot Agatha before I could start panicking again. She was there, obviously, but she was so dim. A blank spot that was like a dirt-caked flashlight with nearly dead batteries that was shining on the other side of a field, whereas the crystals in the ceiling were regular flashlights in the same spot and I was one seen through black construction paper a foot from your face. She was, easily, the least magical living thing I¡¯d ever looked at, and there were no visible threads of magic running between us.


    Come to think of it, did the Fae count as living? They hurt to look at like this, but they didn¡¯t look like Tammy or me or even her when I did this. The difference was hard to put into words. It came from inside of us, but for them it was like a shell, or a wrapping.


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    My vision snapped back to normal when she started talking. She was rubbing stuff from the vial between her hands. They¡¯d started glistening.


    ¡°Turn back around please, Ma¡¯am. This stuff should soak into the stubborn bits and make them clump up. It¡¯ll need to sit dry for a few minutes before getting wiped off, then I¡¯ll do a rinse and we¡¯ll start on the oils. You¡¯re going to positively shine once I¡¯m done with you. Now, for the story I promised¡­¡±


    I listened to her, thoughts still too jumbled up to say anything or complain. If she was using magic here, it wasn¡¯t anything I could see. I¡¯d try to give her the benefit of a doubt, at least; she was helping me, or at least said she was trying to, and acting like everyone I met here was working against me would be unhealthy.


    The floral scent got stronger as she rubbed it into my hair, but it wasn¡¯t a flower I recognized. Not that I had a particularly good sense of smell to start with. It reminded me that she¡¯d left the soap bar on the edge, in easy reach. I definitely wasn¡¯t going to stand up to wash properly, but I would need to use it. When she bundled my hair up overhead and slipped a few pins in to keep it upright, albeit in a precarious and heavy bun, I reached out to grab it.


    The soap didn¡¯t smell like anything, really, and it was hard. Even when I ran it along my arm it was more abrasive then smooth, but it still felt good. Like it was actually cleaning me, on top of scratching that little itch in the back of my head that wanted to scrub my skin off after what had happened. At least it didn¡¯t get instantly slippery once it was wet, so I could keep scrubbing with it underwater and not have to give up that comforting privacy screen of cloudy liquid.


    ¡°Your grandfather was ¨C honestly? I don¡¯t have the words, Ma¡¯am. People here in Ash knew him. Not just our House, but all of them. Even other Courts. There were so many names for him that it got hard to keep track. Aufrey was consistent, at least, but the way some of the Masters talk it was something relatively new for him. There were a few that sounded like titles or honorifics that people made up, but well, I would actually believe some of them. There was one only one that would get the Masters riled up if they heard us using it, though: The Mortal Lord.¡±


    It felt like that should¡¯ve had some power or significance to it. Instead it just fell flat, a vaguely ominous title without context. She was quiet for a few seconds, refilling her pitcher. The water that went into it went from cloudy to clear when I blinked.


    ¡°Like I said, I only actually met him once. Time¡¯s a bit wobbly out here, but the House keeps it at least sort of reliable so I¡¯m sure that this was in my first decade here. The babe I¡¯d come with was just starting to go through the changes, so it couldn¡¯t have been longer.¡±


    She tapped me on the head. ¡°Rinsing now, if you need to move a bit to finish up down there, here¡¯s your chance.¡±


    The water had an even bigger and darker stain this time as she rinsed it off, but the bits of hair that fell across my eyes were blonde again. She dumped at least three pitchers¡¯ worth of water over my head as I shuffled around to get at the backs of my knees and the spots I hadn¡¯t been able to reach before. It was unpleasant, trying to keep everything below my shoulders underwater, but I managed.


    ¡°This was the first time I¡¯d even heard of him outside of rumors. I was cleaning the Great Hall ¨C during one of the moods where it stays a hall ¨C when he came in for his first visit. Or well, the first since I¡¯d been here. I didn¡¯t really know the etiquette by heart yet, at least not the rare little bits like how to react to a visitor like him. Guests weren¡¯t my job anyway, so I just kept cleaning. Of course, everyone else had stopped what they were doing; nobody wanted to miss out on what would be at least a year¡¯s worth of fuel for the rumor mill. Not even the Masters.¡±


    She ran her fingers through my hair and hummed in approval.


    ¡°Starting on the oils now. Anyway, he had on these metal boots that day. They were the first thing I saw of him, really; silver and shining, with etchings that squirmed when I looked at them. What I cared about at the time was that they were tracking ash through what I¡¯d just cleaned and just had to be tearing up the floor. The Masters never came in unannounced, not through that door, so I just told him to move.¡±


    She laughed at that.


    ¡°Heavens, I was an idiot. The Masters, they have this presence, right? How creation bends around them here, I guess. No matter how they choose to look or how they hide it, you can always feel one of the Fair Folk in these woods. When I finally looked up, he had something like that. It wasn¡¯t the same, but I can¡¯t for the life of me say how it was different. I can¡¯t even describe it really, just that it was just as foreign as they used to feel.¡±


    Some of the oil dripped down my face and I ended up in a spluttery coughing fit when it found its way into my mouth with the pungent bitter taste of flowers. Agatha patted my shoulder encouragingly as I worked it out and spat into the bath water, not commenting at all until I was back to normal.


    ¡°So I told him to move, right? Then I saw that. Everyone had heard me. I¡¯m sure at least a few of the other servants ¨C and probably a Master or two ¨C were just waiting for him to put me in my place. I was expecting it myself, honestly; heavens know I got smacked by the Masters more than was healthy those first few years. They hit harder than the bastard I left, that¡¯s for sure. Aufrey ¨C he looked that kind of important, so I expected him to act like them.¡±


    The coughing had loosened up my throat enough that I gave up on staying quiet. That didn¡¯t sound like him; he almost never even got disappointed. The closest I¡¯d ever seen him to angry was when I¡¯d broken my arm after Tammy dropped me out of the tree.


    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine him doing that.¡±


    ¡°Right you are Ma¡¯am; he didn¡¯t! The man that even the Fair Folk respect? He apologized. I¡¯ve cleaned up after a lot of weird men and beasties ¨C plus more things that weren¡¯t either that I still can¡¯t really figure out ¨C and let me tell you: that doesn¡¯t happen. Nobody that¡¯s visiting ever acknowledges the staff unless it¡¯s to order, yell, or flirt. Not before him, not since.¡±

 Names of the Demon: █████████

    Names of the Demon: ¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€


    Reginald Spronck the Third remembered everything.


    That, by itself, was enough to set his stomach churning and leave his hands shaking. People thought he was drinking to celebrate, but they hadn¡¯t known him before his newfound fortunes. He¡¯d been aloof enough that nobody realized this was not how he behaved. He¡¯d just been an antisocial contractor to them, one doing the thankless work of keeping everything running.


    Now they wouldn¡¯t stop coming up to him. He was the hero of the day, the man-of-the-hour with practically endless prospects. Everyone wanted to cozy up to him. He was freshly promoted, complete with a sealed commendation that guaranteed him both a job and a stipend so long as he kept his mouth shut about the details behind it. It wasn¡¯t something that would make him particularly famous in the world of magic, but everyone on base and in-the-know at the PID¡¯s divisional office had heard by now how he¡¯d stopped one of the nobles of the Ashen Court from breaking into US military base.


    All of them, alongside everything they¡¯d heard, were wrong. He knew what he¡¯d done and what he¡¯d agreed to no matter how hard he tried to block it out and believe in their false reality. When he drank to forget it only brought everything back in increasingly vivid waking nightmares and tortured dreams alight with writhing words that hung, immense and imposing, in front of him.


    None of his new sycophants saw that tormented side of their ¡®hero¡¯. Not even the ones that knew the actual details of his work.


    The public fa?ade that the base held magical artifacts was only a cover.


    The base actually held a live Demon.


    Reginald was one of the few in the know about that. He had to be; he maintained all of the facility¡¯s wards. Keeping it in and everything else out was his entire job. The prisoner ¨C or guest, depending on which reports one read ¨C was the highest ranking one that had ever been ¡®contained¡¯. At least, insofar as the practitioner had been able to piece together the infernal hierarchy. That research, well, would¡¯ve been highly illegal without his new access. What he¡¯d found about the Demon, both inside and outside his work, was vague at best. Where it wasn¡¯t, he¡¯d learned that it was just wrong. Even its name was barely recorded.


    Merith, of the Fourth Line of Loss.


    Usually, it ¨C he, if you were actually cleared to be near it ¨C was a cloud of mist swirling with symbols and ribbons of clammy dead flesh, content to permeate the majority of his rooms at once. Sometimes he condensed into a tall being with eyes like thunderclouds and distorted limbs that warped and unraveled with every movement. His body, then, was made entirely from wrapped strips of bloodless skin, each piece imprinted with twisted infernal script and sentences that were always almost readable as they writhed about like living things.


    He was part of Loss. Which explained the difficulty learning more. Reginald had known that going in. The monthly briefings where manuals had to be rewritten in full because the old ones had just turned blank or disappeared. The daily checkups, on a staggered schedule, where people got reminded what they were actually doing. Even with the wards supposedly blocking the Demon¡¯s agency, keeping anything memorized was nearly impossible. Especially when it involved Merith himself.


    The government had long-since embraced it; people forgetting about your dirty secrets without you having to raise a finger was literally a miracle for them. As long as procedures got followed, they just looked at the Demon as a gold mine. Officially, for the people that knew he was there but not the actual reason, he was working ¡®voluntarily¡¯ to further mankind¡¯s understanding of magic.


    Practically, though, he was used as a magic eraser. Whenever someone high enough in the government, at least in a section that interacted with the magical sections of reality, wanted someone to disappear, they used him. Sometimes they tried to be more specific, erasing specific beliefs and memories, but usually it was just to wipe out the vast majority of records relating to someone. Along with the people themselves. The Spronck man ran the wards; he knew that there were almost always fewer people coming out than going in. His records were explicit enough to be sure of that. He¡¯d known that even before everything went up in flames around him that day.


    He hadn¡¯t worried about that, before. If he did his job and didn¡¯t piss off anyone important, he¡¯d be fine.


    Remembering everything, though, included all of that. Hundreds of faces he¡¯d never even known he¡¯d lost. People that went in and didn¡¯t come out. Who came out but just vanished later on, replaced as if they¡¯d never existed. Some were clearly prisoners, others mages. One person that he¡¯d swear he¡¯d seen running for office and just never heard about again. Dozens of coworkers whose jobs had never been refilled.


    The people were the most horrifying things that he suddenly remembered after making that single, awful bargain. But they weren¡¯t all. There were things that people walked past all day and never noticed missing. One of the security checkpoints that everyone treated seriously didn¡¯t even have a metal detector anymore.


    More common, though, were things that were still there that people just ignored. The second fridge in the minimum security break room. The bathrooms in the third basement. The cup on his own desk holding seven different copies of his preferred inscribing stylus. He remembered buying replacements, but he thought they¡¯d been stolen. Seeing all of these little things was like suddenly taking blinders off and seeing the world as it truly was.


    It drove home just how ineffective every protection and precaution they¡¯d taken was.


    It wasn¡¯t even restricted to the section and personnel around the Demon. There were entire sealed buildings on the base that he never saw anybody even look at. They were inside his ward scheme. He knew he¡¯d been maintaining them, but before now he¡¯d never even thought about them. The bushes that grew alongside them had cracked the sidewalks and the one time he¡¯d tried to go in his instincts had screamed at him to avoid it. He didn¡¯t have the guts to try again.


    So he drank. He drank to try to forget the way that everyone¡¯s eyes glazed over when he so much as mentioned what happened that night. It had broken Reginald¡¯s pride, his sense of worth and confidence. It had even shattered his belief that he was a good person. A single conversation was all it took to drag what had been, before that moment, the worst night of his life past all of the spells and coping mechanisms he¡¯d put on it.


    What only he seemed able to remember was that a Faerie had bypassed the best protection the government had been able to pay for. One of the Highborn Fae, the nobility of the Courts, had torn through everything as if it hadn¡¯t even existed. The lives¡¯ work of his predecessors had fallen, one of the last masterworks of a truly ancient immortal, and even what Reginald himself had dedicated years to improving and maintaining ¨C it had all been ignored. Worse than useless. Not a single alarm had been tripped. None of the lethal or nonlethal spells had deployed.


    He hadn¡¯t even known something had happened until he¡¯d done a visual check through the single unblocked scrying avenue and seen her there. The diagnostics, rekeying, cycling ¨C nothing he¡¯d tried had shown anything outside of the expected baseline. She hadn¡¯t even noticed him trying to activate the security manually.


    She¡¯d been like a ghost, except ghosts should have been and regularly were caught and blocked by the wards.


    Then she had left and destroyed everything. All that was left after her departure was a throbbing pain in his head from the mental backlash and a Demon staring directly at him. He had no idea what had happened in the intervening moments. When he tried to probe his own mind to see what was missing from his now painfully, nauseatingly whole memory, he just found ragged edges lined with the same taunting glyphs as Merith himself.


    He knew better than to push at those.


    He¡¯d known that night that, even though he literally could not have stopped something strong enough to pierce the wards that Olaf Aufrey ¨C the Flowering Death ¨C had left behind, he would be blamed. It didn¡¯t matter if he was actually responsible; he was the one in charge of the wards. The clear one to blame when people higher up the chain raced to cover their own asses. His career, his future, and his very life were going up in smoke before his eyes when it happened.


    Merith had offered him a deal.


    Reginald had taken it.


    Everyone else forgot.


    He couldn¡¯t.


    They only knew their false version of events, one that either the Demon had placed there or that their minds had tried to fill the gap with. The Spronck practitioner couldn¡¯t imagine the magic would be shallow enough for anyone nearby to believe the truth even if he tried to beat it through their heads himself. He couldn¡¯t even try, though; the will to do it vanished into thin air alongside the rest of his thoughts whenever it came up in any serious intensity.


    He was only sort of sure that nothing physical had changed. Outside investigators could probably figure things out if the Demon decided on a whim to let them. Especially any Blood mages that decided to check on the base¡¯s personnel. Somehow, though, Reginald doubted that they¡¯d ever get orders or a reason to do so. Stopping someone from snooping at all was always easier than hiding things when they did. And with how proactive the blocks in his mind were, he knew that the Demon wasn¡¯t going to be cheated out of his due. Any paperwork that could uncover him?


    It would be Lost.


    He knew, deep inside, that he had to fulfill his end of the deal. He wasn¡¯t strong enough to resist.


    At that same instinctual level was the knowledge that he couldn¡¯t forget anything he might want to until he did. Not what he¡¯d done before running to the US, not what had happened, and not the incandescent price that he knew he¡¯d be paying.


    The list that the Demon had recited.


    It burned in his brain every moment of the day, waking or otherwise. Towering words that itched in his psyche with no way to scratch them. No relief until he let them out. It was so painfully simple; say them in the right place, at the right time. Then he¡¯d be free.


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    The consequences were what scared him. Not just of what he¡¯d be doing, but what would be done to him. Once he¡¯d done the task ¨C why would the Demon keep protecting him from his actions?


    He knew what the list was, knew the contents so intimately that he probably didn¡¯t even need to be awake to say them. Still, he couldn¡¯t even think of them in any concrete terms. It didn¡¯t matter how hard he tried; they couldn¡¯t be spread outside the bounds of the deal. Not until the initial seal was broken, and maybe not even after. He¡¯d know them when it mattered, and only then. No chances to research like he¡¯d done about Merith. No finding a way to circumvent what would happen.


    The entries each seethed with twisted and tortured mana, writhing as they tried to worm their way free. They were just as constrained by Merith¡¯s magic as Reginald was, that much was clear. The actual entries weren¡¯t really instructions, for all they carried the weight of Merith¡¯s commands with them. Nothing about them was difficult, long, or involved.


    Just seven entries.


    Seven places.


    Seven times.


    Seven Names.


    Seven Demons.


    They would be either something new or something forgotten. Unbound, just waiting to be unleashed on the world. All it would take was an invocation; the only constraints that each apparently had a specific recipient picked out for them. Ones that Merith had given him oblique directions to.


    He didn¡¯t know what would happen when each was spoken. Maybe they would come through. Maybe they would just have a path forward, something to take at their leisure when people had forgotten what was said. Whatever it was, he had that bone-deep knowledge that at least six would not touch him. The last ¨C it wouldn¡¯t do to think on it.


    He¡¯d been told it would leave a mark. What came afterwards was the endless abyss of possibility when the certainty that he knew would guide him through the others vanished. His life ¨C it wasn¡¯t really his until he spoke that last Name. What would happen then terrified him.


    It was that fear that really drove home how bad of a person he was. Even knowing what he was going to unleash, it was the thought of what would happen to him that drove a large chunk of the drinking.


    Knowing the Names, on their own, would be enough legal justification for a huge number of governments or gods to kill him on the spot. Even in places where diabolism wasn¡¯t banned he would be put on lists. Then watched. Heavily. He could know the names if he wanted, but when it crossed into the domain and context of a Name, it became forbidden knowledge. Any fool could speak of someone like Merith; only those that truly understood what they spoke of could actually give the utterance weight. A name was simply an irritance to these kinds of beings when spoken ¨C a Name was a call.


    An invitation.


    He had that context, for all of them. The knowledge, buried just out of his reach, of what he was now bound to summon. It made each entry in the list pulse in his mind with a burning rainbow of putrescent, tainted shades that were anathema to reality as he knew it.


    After days of delaying and suffering, he gave in to the inevitability. That night, with the resigned conviction that he would begin in the morning, he slept peacefully.


    Knowing where to start was easy. He could have figured this one out even without instructions.


    <hr>


    Whisper one into a missing ear.


    Cryptic as it sounded, Reginald would have to be an idiot to miss the meaning in this town. He had thought himself an upstanding citizen before all of this, despite what had preceded his employment with the PID. And the fact that he wasn¡¯t actually a US citizen.


    Still, he wasn¡¯t deaf. You couldn¡¯t live or work on-base without hearing about someone with, well, connections. One of those people, a bartender off-base who always seemed to know your name, happened to deal with gossip and news. Some parts were rather more illegal than others. It was all ¡°I heard¡± and ¡°If you believe the rumors¡± when you wanted something. Completely deniable, of course. Selling, though, was another story. For that there was the backroom that people who needed time to think or catch their breath could use when it wasn¡¯t reserved. If a drunk mage or soldier happened to talk to themselves there, well, who could blame them? Some people just needed to let things out.


    It wasn¡¯t like they¡¯d said it to anyone, after all, and there¡¯d been no contracts or agreements. Nothing untoward, anyone that heard of it had to understand. It would hold up even under scrutiny. And if you found some extra money slipped in with your change or a few things you¡¯d been asking around for showing up over the next few days? Well, sometimes luck was just like that. But you could safely swear you hadn¡¯t spoken to anyone about it at Vincent van Grog¡¯s.


    Now if they asked if you¡¯d talked to the ear, well, that might be a problem. The people in charge knew better than to ask, though. Bribes and connections to the upper echelons of society had a way of making people that threatened a mostly harmless outlet of illicit desires disappear. Reginald had experience with that kind of corruption firsthand and it still made his gut twist with guilt when something sent his mind racing back to that day and the all-too-vivid memories.


    He could feel the first of the Names scratching near the front of his mind when he walked in and that was more than enough to make him want to leave. He¡¯d wanted to be wrong, for once, but knew he hadn¡¯t been that lucky. As soon as he crossed the threshold he knew he wouldn¡¯t be leaving without saying it. More than that, without saying it as it was meant to be said. It had to be the full Name, complete with the context and sacrament that would bring an echo of its owner across worlds. If he even thought of leaving the past that he wanted so desperately to forget would rear its head.


    He thought it anyway.


    His hands were shaking once he got to the bar and started drinking. Nothing was making him rush along, at least.


    People had started to notice by the time he finally called over the bartender. Not just one of the employees ¨C the bartender. The one who everyone knew was in charge. The man had been studiously avoiding looking at Reginald before the signal. It sure didn¡¯t stop him from sidling over without any kind of pause.


    ¡°What can I get for ya? Anything special for our man-of-the-hour?¡±


    Reginald cut the chase. His voice cracked as he said, ¡°I hear that there¡¯s an interesting mural in the back.¡±


    The other man¡¯s eyes sharpened and he slowly nodded. His face had the ghost of a frown on it.


    ¡°That¡¯s a pretty direct way of putting it. It¡¯s my cousin¡¯s work; he still gets a big head about it, damn ¡®impressionist¡¯. Most people are a bit unnerved back there these days ¨C can barely rent out that damn room anymore. People keep saying it¡¯s too creepy. I guess it¡¯s still useful though; nice and quiet if you need a moment or two to breathe. Sorry to say it, but it looks like you could use a few of those.¡±


    Reginald realized his fingers were still shaking and made a conscious effort to grip the countertop until they stopped. After downing his eighth shot, of course. ¡°Yeah, maybe I do.¡±


    People had started noticing after the fifth, honestly. He¡¯d only been there for five minutes after all and enough people were keeping track of him to notice it. One of the researchers he recognized from artifact storage had started to make eyes at him after the third; if he hadn¡¯t already been committed to what was about to happen he might¡¯ve actually gone over to her.


    The bartender, ignorant of the magician¡¯s inner conflict, just hummed and inclined his head at one of the other staff.


    ¡°Let me get a key and I¡¯ll show you in. Can¡¯t just leave the door unlocked all the time or nobody would ever pay to rent it.¡±


    The woman he¡¯d gestured to brought over a key that she¡¯d obviously had on hand and ready. The man started walking as soon as he grabbed it. Reginald ended up a few steps behind him, trudging along the thin clear aisle that ran parallel to the bar. He had to step around a two stumbling drunks and a couple that was getting a bit too handsy for a bar.


    Vincent van Grog¡¯s wasn¡¯t a particularly refined establishment, but usually it drew the line at hands going down the front of pants.


    As he passed them it drove home that they had no idea what was about to happen. More than just not remembering what had happened, they didn¡¯t know that the man they hadn¡¯t even noticed was about to, in principle if not in practice, unleash a Demon on the world.


    Probably, at least; there wasn¡¯t much else that he could imagine happening.


    Poor, ignorant fools.


    The door they both headed to was near the back, across the dance floor and past the gaming area. It was next to the small VIP section that was cordoned off for the well-connected regulars. From the outside it didn¡¯t look any different from the other private rooms or closets that the place had. Once he was inside, though, he realized that nobody had exaggerated when they talked about it.


    The ceiling was straight out of Starry Night and three of the walls were either collages or some unholy artistic cousin of theirs mimicking other parts of Van Gogh himself. The other wall had the man himself, sort of.


    ¡°Is ¨C is that actually a¡­?¡±


    ¡°Nah. Just a mannequin or casing or something my cousin found. It can¡¯t actually move or anything and it¡¯s stuck to the wall. Mostly just set dressing, nothing odd about it.¡± The disconnected part the other man pointedly wasn¡¯t looking at, Reginald surmised, was otherwise. ¡°Anyway, door will lock itself on your way out. Hope it helps.¡±


    The door shut with a dull click and then it was quiet. The pulsing, pounding music from outside was gone. Just like that. It could¡¯ve been an enchantment, he supposed, but he¡¯d seen how thick the door was. It was probably just good soundproofing.


    The actual magic in the room was, by and large, muted enough it might as well have been absent. A few inscriptions in the art on the ceiling were standalone blockers against scrying and other forms of divination. Not even remotely complex work ¨C honestly, they were a bit of a hackjob. They weren¡¯t his specialty, but the entire array looked slapdash even if it blended into the paint. Not something he¡¯d be caught dead using; they were just noisemakers. Throw out enough random stuff in the area and it got inordinately difficult to pull out clear data from any observation spells.


    Reginald did have to admit that it was clever. It didn¡¯t block out areas completely, so you¡¯d have to actually try to look to notice anything weird about the room.


    The ear, though ¨C that was definitely magical. Strong stuff, too. Set into the wall in a swirled web of paint scratching out a surreal version of a table, it looked painfully real compared to the surroundings. It was more comparable to the actual sculpture, but still looked almost real compared to the rest. It had the dull look of plastic, but a worn-down texture that seemed closer to actual skin. He had a feeling that it had, at one point, been real.


    The abomination that was supposed to be the troubled artist was looking at it with a garishly painted ¨C or sculpted, the mage really couldn¡¯t tell which it was ¨C visage of horror.


    The way it worked was obvious. Sympathetic feedback, like calling to like along connections deep enough that cutting everything off would be easier than blocking them. Whoever used to own that ear was still walking around, but under whatever prosthetic or regrowth they¡¯d had they¡¯d still hear what went through it. The hardest part was preserving that connection after it was lost; not many people would know the right words, rituals, and methods to use something like this.


    Sure, a microphone could¡¯ve done the same job, but this way didn¡¯t leave any physical evidence. Reginald had to respect that.


    He didn¡¯t know who was on the other end. And honestly, he hoped he never would. They might not forgive him for what he was about to do. The blocks around the first Name were already fading as he leaned in to it, finally letting him think about what he was about to unleash.


    A Demon from the choirs of Corruption.


    The words formed unbidden, crackling on his tongue like he was chewing on static. The bursts of flavor that followed them curdled and inverted as he choked, swallowing on a suddenly dry throat that felt both burnt and frozen at once. The sourness of a lemon twisted into the warmth of fresh bread then popped into the taste of someone else¡¯s spit. No rhyme, no reason, no sensible transitions. The sensations were just ¨C there. As they¡¯d always been. As they always would be.


    Until they weren¡¯t.


    The ground didn¡¯t shake, lightning didn¡¯t strike, and no angels exploded out to silence him. Nothing broke or deepened the quiet in the room, save for his own voice. It was just him, kneeling in the dark and speaking profane words into a stranger¡¯s ear.


    ¡°Sargonnan of Corruption.¡±


    He took a breathe ¨C the pause it engendered forced on him. A stronger Name would have carried the rest within it. This one did not.


    ¡°Acolyte of Usurpation, Servant of Discord, Singer of Greed.¡± Each title was a facet of the being he knew they represented. A sacrament that reinforced its presence and its link as parts of the Name itself.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    The last words were his, as he stood up and left. Nausea and doubt mixed with the lingering chaos on his tongue, the sickness he felt wholly imagined. It warred in his mind with the relief and satisfaction he felt at buying a reprieve from the torment he¡¯d brought on himself by delaying. His task for the day was done.


    He had time until the next. If only he knew what he was going to do with it.


    He didn¡¯t know, as he walked out, that the dimly lit and silent room wasn¡¯t the same as he¡¯d left it. There, a trickle of liquid fell from the ear. Black and rancid, boiling away even as the door closed.


    Blood.

 Chapter Twenty-Three – Teresa

    Chapter Twenty-Three ¨C Teresa


    Agatha twisted my head a little bit, fingers digging into the hair around my ears. My neck popped, a loud crack that felt like it startled her.


    ¡°Talking about this? It¡¯s making me realize that I barely remember that whole decade. Things were changing too fast for me to get anything really locked away in my head. Aufrey¡¯s still there, though, clear as day. I haven¡¯t been able to forget him ¨C I doubt I could even if I wanted! There¡¯s still two things that stand out, though.¡±


    ¡°What are they?¡±


    ¡°Well, the first is that he apologized. How he apologized. I mean sure, he said he was sorry, but then he took off the boots. Shoved them straight into one of those bags that¡¯s bigger on the inside ¨C those are absolutely amazing for laundry duty by the way, if you ever need to do it ¨C but all he had under them were socks. He did it every time he came through here, after that. Just took off his shoes at the threshold and went around in his stockings. The darned man never even wore the same ones twice!¡±


    She laughed, a softer sound than most of her voice. ¡°Just imagine it, this tall, chiseled, and brooding sorcerer ¨C or whatever he was, I don¡¯t rightly get witchcraft ¨C walking around in the most ridiculous things you¡¯d ever see. Stripes. Dots. Little ducklings. I swear he made a game of it and there was nobody with the bullocks to call him out on it. Us servants didn¡¯t really have a motivation to though ¨C we actually ran a betting pool on what color his next set would be, or what pattern. Won it three times, myself!¡±


    Wait, was that why there were so many weird socks in one of the hall closets that we¡¯d never seen him wear? I¡¯d thought those had been Mom¡¯s or something that he just wouldn¡¯t throw out. While I was thinking about that she took her hands away and scooted her stool back with that same wooden scraping sound as earlier.


    ¡°Sorry to pause the story Ma¡¯am, but I¡¯m done here. Everything else is best done over by the mirror, so I¡¯ll let you finish up. Just rinse off when you¡¯re done, grab the towel, and we¡¯ll get started on the rest. Can¡¯t take up all our time gabbing, sadly. The Ball¡¯s already starting. I¡¯ll be over there ¨C don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not one to peek.¡±


    Her footsteps went off to the side and when I looked back she was fiddling with the tray. Her head was down, facing away from the mirror. That was as good as I was going to get, probably, so I rushed through with washing my face and underarms. They¡¯d been hard to get before without pulling my chest out of the water. I spent about thirty seconds with my hand on the plug, just staring at the dark water. When I pulled it, I rushed to let more water in. I mixed the hot and cold to keep it just on the edge of tolerable, then started using the pitcher to rinse out the last of the things from my hair.


    That¡¯s when I saw the spot.


    The stubborn spot on the back of my hand. A grey patch of caked-on ash that had been soaked in blue blood, right between two of my knuckles. The skin around it looked stained. Like a finger had pressed down, hard, and smeared it around.


    Where he¡¯d held me.


    I scraped at it with the soap until the skin was raw and red. The bar fell apart. So I started scratching. I didn¡¯t stop when the color was gone, or when it started to hurt. Not until the pain turned sharp and my fingers came away bloody.


    The rest of the rinsing was rushed. I closed the taps and let the tub drain as I jumped out, trying to keep my eyes off that hand. The bloody side of the towel I dried off with went onto the ground as I tried not to slip on the wet wood. The second towel wrapped around me, from just above my breasts down to mid-thigh. Way too exposed for comfort, but still better than the alternative.


    This towel was so white that I didn¡¯t want to bloody it. I kept the stinging patch on my left hand covered with my right, which wasn¡¯t easy while keeping the towel tight against me. The shivering on the walk over to Agatha wasn¡¯t just because the air here felt cold.


    She sat me down on the stool without a word, then grabbed a hairbrush and started running it through my hair. I kept my eyes down and both hands holding the top of my towel up. I didn¡¯t want to look in the mirror and see myself.


    She¡¯d gotten halfway through before breaking the silence.


    ¡°You¡¯re awfully stiff again, Ma¡¯am. I know you don¡¯t want to listen to an old bat like me, but you should really relax. Save the tension, the worrying, and all of that stuff for when it can actually make a difference. A person can¡¯t stay all taut like that forever without something snapping. I¡¯d hate to watch it happen to you.¡±


    I relaxed, but not by much.


    ¡°There, that¡¯s better! You still don¡¯t have to talk, but I believe I¡¯ve got some stories to finish for you. I told you about the socks already, but that wasn¡¯t the main thing. Sorry, I get distracted a lot when I actually get to talk to someone like this. The Masters aren¡¯t exactly conversational, most of the time, and the House doesn¡¯t really talk. Not like you and I. The other servants are always a bit intimidated too, can you believe it?¡±


    ¡°The unforgettable bit is that he cleaned the entire Great Hall for me. It would¡¯ve taken me days of nonstop work on my own ¨C and that¡¯s if it didn¡¯t decide to change before I finished. You¡¯ll see what I mean by that in a few hours, Ma¡¯am. It¡¯s breathtaking, the first time. Anyway, he helped me up after saying he was sorry ¨C my knees haven¡¯t hurt the same since, by the way ¨C and then he knelt down himself and grabbed my rag.¡±


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    She sat down her brush and started to fiddle with something off on the table that I wasn¡¯t willing to turn to look at. I tried to swallow the knot in my throat and managed to get out a few words.


    ¡°He did it by hand?¡±


    ¡°No no no, Ma¡¯am. Or well, sort of? Hands definitely got used, but they weren¡¯t exactly his. Not the way you and I have hands. No, he pocketed the rag for some reason. Still no clue why, actually. Guess I¡¯ll never know now that he¡¯s gone. Then made this grand sweeping gesture across the room. It had to be for my benefit, since even servants with the Gift here don¡¯t really need the hand stuff for things or so they say. He has to be so far beyond us that we can¡¯t even compare.¡±


    She sighed, dreamily. ¡°However he did it went over my head, that¡¯s for sure, but I saw what he did. The floor started to ripple. Like a heat haze that you could feel, I think, or those mirages that sailors always talked about. I swear, I¡¯ve never seen the wood of the House shiver like that, not before or since. It went out like a rock into a pond, but instead of waves it was little hands reaching up. They were each smaller than my thumb, like miniature versions of mine. Right down to the weird knuckle.¡±


    She held up her right hand in the mirror and waggled the digit. She was clutching a handful of hairpins, or at least that¡¯s what they looked like, in her other fingers.


    The knuckle didn¡¯t look all that weird.


    ¡°Those things were tough. They went all through the hall in a few seconds and picked up the people and furniture. Then they started sweeping. No rags or water or anything; they just grabbed or pushed or dragged everything on the ground that wasn¡¯t meant to be there and passed it along until the hands by the door tossed everything out into the Wood. It was one of the most surreal things I¡¯ve ever seen here, ma¡¯am, and that¡¯s a high, high bar.¡±


    She started smiling again before I looked down at the table. Despite it all I had to bite back a laugh when I saw that she¡¯d stuck some of the pins in her mouth while juggling a brush and a vial of oil between her hands. They stuck up, one almost poking into her nostril, and bounced around like a Walrus¡¯s tusks. She didn¡¯t say anything until she had a part sectioned off and was running the brush and oil through it.


    ¡°The little wonders waved at me once they had everything cleaned out. Then they all just sank back into the floor. I swear they¡¯re still around here somewhere; something keeps loosening any bad stains I go to clean up and I know I see them around sometimes. It¡¯s not all that outrageous no matter what people say about me, right? Even back home something a man like your grandfather did would stick around a bit, I think, but here it literally can¡¯t help but leave some echoes.¡±


    She moved onto another section of my hair while she was paused. Whatever the oil was, it made my hair shine. Literally. It was reflecting some of the light here when she rustled it around, looking more golden than the usual flax color. Hesitant as I was to think it ¨C it was actually pretty.


    ¡°The other thing I won¡¯t forget were his eyes. You have them too Ma¡¯am, with that purple and the gold and the green. His cheeks too, I think. You¡¯re exactly what I expected when I heard his daughter had kids; you¡¯re a spitting image of her.¡±


    Nobody had ever said that before. Then again Grandpa didn¡¯t like talking about her and nobody else we were around had known her. We¡¯d never had any pictures up, either. For the eyes, though, I could sort of see what she meant. People always said they were hazel and that the purple look was just light being weird ¨C but looking here it was a lot more like a dark purple than a distorted brown where the threads of gold and green ran through the iris.


    ¡°His eyes, they had something more though. I can¡¯t put it into words, but whatever it was isn¡¯t there in yours. It was like time stopped when I looked up into them. I know I sound like some rich mistress waxing poetic about her beau of the week while she fans herself on a fainting couch, Ma¡¯am, but it really did feel like my heart sped up and everything else slowed down. Everyone that saw it says it was just a few seconds. To me, it was like a lifetime.¡±


    She sighed and put in the last of the pins. Her hands hovered in the air over my shoulders for a bit before she dropped them to her sides.


    ¡°Everything around me faded away. The floor, the great hall, him ¨C all that was left were his eyes and vague blurs that squirm away when I try to remember them. The pounding in my chest was like I¡¯d been running for hours, the warmth on my skin was like the sun had been beating down on me the whole time. It¡¯s not a feeling you get here, Ma¡¯am. Oh hells do I miss it. I felt my hair moving in a warm breeze that rustled leaves around me, twirling around as it carried the taste of flowers and bark. That was impossible too ¨C there¡¯s no wind in the House, not like that. No leaves, either, not healthy ones. I know I¡¯ve been here for a while, but I remember what a windy forest sounds like. It shouldn¡¯t rasp like that.¡±


    She sniffled and wiped a few tears away with the back of her hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s like I was falling into something else, somewhere and someone different. I could feel my skin start to prickle and my bones start to shift around, like I needed to change. To be whatever I was remembering ¨C whatever was still in his eyes. He stopped it by looking away. It didn¡¯t hurt even when everything snapped back in place. Not until it all hit me. The sadness. As crushing as when I saw my own daughter dead and fled here. I was missing something and I couldn¡¯t even say what it was. The thoughts, the feelings, they ran off just as quickly as everything else. All that was left were the scraps of memories.¡±


    ¡°He had this little, sad smile on his face as he steadied me there. It didn¡¯t reach his eyes. The happiness it had started with stuck with me, but with the rest it was so hollow. There had to be more to it, but it just wasn¡¯t there. I never asked him about it, never even went up to him again. I was always too nervous or too busy or he just came through too fast for me to catch him. Then he had your mother with him and I almost did, but the Masters actually stopped me. Said to let dead things lie.¡±


    She sucked in a breath and put down the brush.


    ¡°The last time I saw him, she was gone and he just looked so ¨C so broken. Now he¡¯s gone too, and I¡¯ll never know what it was. I don¡¯t even know if I¡¯m better off this way.¡±


    She was quiet for a few seconds and her voice trembled when she did talk.


    ¡°It was part of his past, I think. Something special. Even if other people had felt it or seen it, it wouldn¡¯t have been the same. I can feel that in my bones. It was still just a piece. And knowing that the rest was out there, that something hurt him so badly and I didn¡¯t know what it was, then that it¡¯s just gone now? I can feel it missing if I look, a gap that he left that won¡¯t ever heal. When I think about it, it¡¯s like a hole rips open in my chest and a rope goes taut around my throat.¡±


    The tears took both hands to wipe away, and her sobbing left me feeling so, so small.

 Chapter Twenty-Four - Teresa

    Chapter Twenty-Four - Teresa


    It didn¡¯t feel right to break the silence even once Agatha stopped crying. I felt guilty about causing it. Sure I had a right to know things about my grandfather, but she¡¯d gone into something deeply personal. It didn¡¯t involve me, so this? This ¨C it wasn¡¯t my moment to break. I just sat still while she started rubbing something else into my hair that made it spread out instead of clumping together.


    There¡¯d been plenty of practice before at sitting like this, just letting my eyes move reflexively across stuff to pretend like I was paying attention. It had been a way to daydream in school ¨C after I¡¯d already finished the classwork for the day ¨C without getting called out for it. It was a good way to let my mind wander.


    I was trying to reconcile what she¡¯d described with the grandfather I¡¯d known. Obviously, I¡¯d never had anything like what she¡¯d been through with his eyes happen. I wasn¡¯t sure if I¡¯d ever looked into his eyes the way she described, though. He¡¯d never been the kind of caregiver to have you meet his eyes to get a point across, and I just hated eye contact in general.


    Honestly, he¡¯d never tried to get points across very hard.


    He ¨C well, he really wasn¡¯t the best parent. We knew he wasn¡¯t our dad, obviously, but he¡¯d still raised us. He was our parent ¨C our only parent ¨C in every way that counted. It didn¡¯t matter that he was hands-off and weird. He fed us, housed us, and paid for everything we needed. He was always there for us if we got hurt, somehow. Even though I couldn¡¯t actually remember him being there watching before the injury, he always came in right away to help. He had never done anything that was actually bad for us.


    He was just distant. Reserved.


    That¡¯s why the socks in the closet had been so surprising. He hadn¡¯t been the kind of person to do ridiculous displays like that, never really been all that spontaneous or even emotional. Yellow socks with neon-pink polka dots just didn¡¯t fit him, at all. By the same metric, it wasn¡¯t too jarring to find his secret study, then dig up his entire double life. He just didn¡¯t share things like that. And with how us finding it had gone ¨C maybe he¡¯d been right not to. It obviously wasn¡¯t safe. It had to be because he cared. He loved us; I knew that for a fact.


    ¡­right?


    He had to have. We were his grandkids. He¡¯d raised us since we were literally babies.


    That didn¡¯t change that he¡¯d kept himself so closed off. How, as I thought back further, he really hadn¡¯t met our eyes. He would always tilt his head a little, or move, or do something to break contact whenever Tammy went to look into his eyes. I¡¯d seen them, sure. They looked like mine did. Or at least ¨C the right one did. The left one always looked a little bit off. It wasn¡¯t anything too weird ¨C not quite heterochromia, since I would swear the color was identical ¨C but it just had a feeling that didn¡¯t want to be put into words about it. That small feeling that it, specifically, was out of place.


    That didn¡¯t matter at all about him loving us. He was just an older man that didn¡¯t care about eye contact. That wasn¡¯t any kind of prerequisite to caring about the children you raised.


    Even when we¡¯d done something that made him step in and punish us, he¡¯d always be looking over our shoulders though. That wasn¡¯t just avoiding eye contact, it was like he avoided looking at us entirely. He never really smiled in a way that reached his eyes, either. It always looked hollow, but I¡¯d never seen the kind of sadness in it that Agatha had described. Just, everything felt forced.


    Tammy had mentioned it a few times once we were old enough to notice. How everything was like an act. She kept saying he behaved like someone doing things without any thought or emotion behind the actions. When we¡¯d first found out about sci-fi, she¡¯d actually said he was acting like a robot. We¡¯d both laughed, but I¡¯d just waved the concerns away once we were old enough to talk about them. Those were just things we babbled about as kids; he was a rich man taking care of two little girls. He had to be distant. It didn¡¯t matter that we were literally family ¨C people would gossip no matter what. If he was less reserved, they would¡¯ve said things that were a lot worse.


    Besides, he just wasn¡¯t a touchy-feely kind of person.


    I¡¯d clung to that excuse even when Tam kept saying he was too distant. The arguments over that were one of our few repeated problems, but they¡¯d died down after we¡¯d settled in at the boarding school and stopped being around him as often. Distance, apparently, solved that problem for her. The irony of it made me smile for a few seconds.


    We¡¯d started socializing with people our own age, then, and the old arguments had fallen into the background as we started to have our own things going on. Sports and dating for her, books for me. Every now and then Tam would mention that we should ask him what happened to Mom ¨C or ask someone else why he acted so differently from their parents ¨C but she¡¯d always end up dropping it. Either I pointed out that not everyone wanted to open up about painful memories, or a few days would pass and it just wouldn¡¯t get brought up again until the next time.


    Had she ever actually asked him? I was sure she had, but she¡¯d never mentioned him saying anything. That wasn¡¯t like her.


    The more I thought back to childhood the easier it was to match things up from what the older woman had said. Not to the first part of the story, or even the sadness. The last bit, where she¡¯d said he was broken. Thinking about it ¨C that felt right. It wasn¡¯t just that he¡¯d never done anything wacky or spontaneous or emotional, it was that he never did, well, anything. The TV, the bookshelves, the pool ¨C all of it was stuff for us.


    The books and everything we didn¡¯t use never gathered dust, sure, but I couldn¡¯t remember him ever doing more than carrying a book or two around. He didn¡¯t open or even really look at them. He had his spot in the living room and his chair in the kitchen; he never used any of the others unless it was for helping us. The books on his various desks ¨C at least the ones that us kids could reach and see ¨C always sat open to the same few pages for days on end.


    He¡¯d used the computer we had maybe five times after we first got internet, then left it for us. He hadn¡¯t owned a smartphone until Tammy begged him to get them for us as we went off to boarding school. I¡¯d only seen him use it to either call us or call someone for us; even the house phone rarely got used for anything but us.


    Well, except for spam calls. Apparently even whatever great wizard he¡¯d been couldn¡¯t completely block them out. He¡¯d always just listen silently to whatever spiel they had, then hang up without a word. More than a few repeat callers had gotten so unnerved by that that they¡¯d just stopped.


    It was like he was only making the motions at everything. The only times he broke his routine without us causing it would be around the mirrors. We¡¯d find him staring at one of them at least once a month, then he¡¯d just start moving like he hadn¡¯t just been watching nothing for who knew how long. With how often it happened, it couldn¡¯t have just been how he stopped to think. Not with the way his face was almost never blank for those first few seconds when we found him.


    That was just uncanny behavior ¨C the emotions there still felt fake.


    The closest I could remember to something that felt real from him was a really old memory. I¡¯d been young ¨C like, really, really, young ¨C then, only just learning to read. This was before we had any tutors, back when he was still taking care of us all on his own. I think. Everything that old started to blur together in my head. Had there been a woman helping him?


    No, no, that wasn¡¯t right.


    Digging around trying to recall it hurt. It wasn¡¯t the kind of pain that would stop me ¨C this felt like I was trying to force myself through a staticky fog ¨C but it was enough that I decided to shut my eyes to focus better. Agatha might interrupt me if she noticed, but it wasn¡¯t like I needed to see just to sit here and think.


    He¡¯d been teaching me; I was pretty sure on that. Probably to read. I¡¯d crawled up into his lap and begged until he started a picture book for me. We¡¯d always had a few dozen of them that he¡¯d read out loud for us when I asked, or during teaching time. Tammy never asked herself and always wanted to go run around, but I¡¯d loved the stories. It was a good memory, even if I couldn¡¯t actually remember how he¡¯d gotten the book when I was already on his lap and he hadn¡¯t moved.


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    He¡¯d been smiling and helping me sound out letters, moving his finger along the page as I squinted to piece together the sentences. It had been some story about a mean dragon and a nice one, not one of the usual children¡¯s books. I couldn¡¯t have been older than two or three. I barely remembered anything from that far back, and it couldn¡¯t have been from after I started remembering stuff.


    He¡¯d been smiling at me. That¡¯s what stuck out. Really, truly, smiling. It made his face soften around the eyes in a way I almost never saw. He¡¯d actually looked proud, there, smiling down at the little girl who¡¯d twisted around and started beaming at his approval after managing to read out an entire page. I¡¯d asked him something ¨C about the story, probably ¨C but whatever it was had faded away. It was overshadowed by what came next. When he¡¯d started to answer, he¡¯d called me by a different name.


    Signy.


    Almost a decade later, while looking through newspapers archived at the library, I¡¯d learned that it was Mom¡¯s.


    When tiny me asked him who he was talking to, he¡¯d frozen. Not in the way that most people mean it, where their expressions shift into fear or panic or regret. No, he¡¯d just stopped. Completely. He¡¯d even stopped breathing; I¡¯d been leaning against his chest when it happened. Even knowing about magic and everything there was no way he could have stopped for as long as I remembered.


    Maybe it was just my brain stretching time out because little-me hadn¡¯t known how to deal with panic. I¡¯d poked him everywhere I could reach, but he hadn¡¯t moved or said anything. Not even when I¡¯d started bawling my eyes out. Whatever came next was too faded to really remember. I just knew that after that, he¡¯d been the distant man I could remember. I¡¯d never been on his lap again. He¡¯d never taught me on my own, either; just group lessons with Tammy until the tutors came and we eventually went off to boarding school.


    Broken was feeling more and more right. What had happened to Mom for him to end up like that?


    I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to know, not if it had hurt him that badly. I had enough problems of my own to deal with now without piling on even more; whatever it was that had happened to him, what he¡¯d been and how it related to Mom ¨C all of that wasn¡¯t time-sensitive. It could wait until my own nightmare was over.


    It wasn¡¯t until I started shivering that I realized I¡¯d been crying again. This time Agatha was the one leaving me to brood as I wiped away the tears. She didn¡¯t comment on the patch of dried blood that I inadvertently showed off on my left hand when I wiped with the right. The wounds were still there, already starting to scab over. Way faster than I¡¯d have expected. Then again, everything else had changed quickly too. Maybe that was just how stuff worked here; the gouge in my leg from the boar definitely wouldn¡¯t have healed overnight without something speeding it up. It didn¡¯t look quite like the rest of me after it, way greyer than a scar should be. Would I end up as a patchwork of differently colored skin after this?


    That could actually be kind of cool. The thought was enough to get me to stop crying, at least.


    Agatha gave me a few more minutes to brood, which I spent just staring at my hands while she pinned my hair up way higher than I usually had it ¨C whenever I did something more complicated than a ponytail, that is.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re done until Master Fearghal decides the theme. I have some snacks here if you want them. Just something light, good for a recovering girl like you. You might need a bit more meat on your bones, but trust me, you don¡¯t want to overdo it on what they have at the banquets.¡±


    ¡°I know. It¡¯ll trap me here forever.¡±


    ¡°What? No!¡± Her face went through a few expressions before she went on with, ¡°Well, sometimes. Not here or now. Any food offered freely is good to eat, so is anything that isn¡¯t stolen once you¡¯ve been accepted in the lands of the Fae. It doesn¡¯t matter anyway. Nobody would challenge Master Fearghal¡¯s claim and it¡¯s not like you can get in a worse situation without that happening. You¡¯ll just make yourself sick if you have too much. The food there¡¯s really rich and the things they have in the air sometimes make you nauseous.¡±


    She took the top off the dish she¡¯d sat down next to her supplies, revealing a few pieces of dark bread, an absolutely perfect looking red apple, and a few crumbly bits of some whitish cheese that I definitely wasn¡¯t educated enough to identify. If it was even something normal from Earth and not made from some weird fantasy milk. Not the most appetizing spread, but seeing it was enough to remind my stomach that I hadn¡¯t eaten in I didn¡¯t even know how long.


    I still had no clue how much time had passed between all the running for my life, much less how much had gone by between the wolf pinning me down and when that darkness had faded to let the boar chase me.


    To my stomach, stuff like that didn¡¯t matter. I was hungry, there was food. So I ate pretty much on instinct. The apple was amazing, and the cheese was ¨C not parmesan. It was sort of nutty, but that was as much as I could say. The bread was a lot softer than it looked, but still took the longest to chew. My mouth was still full when he came in.


    I choked and nearly fell out of the chair before my muscles locked up. Nothing magical, just a cold rush of fear. If I pulled away far enough to feel safer, would he take it as an insult? However he¡¯d phrased it, all he¡¯d sworn was that what happened wouldn¡¯t happen again. That didn¡¯t rule out anything worse, or anything even subtly different. Words were empty, even with that clearly magical thread that showed up between us. My hands started shaking again as my thoughts went to those extremes.


    I would break if that happened. Just like Grandpa. I didn¡¯t want to end up like that.


    I couldn¡¯t make myself look away from him as he settled into a spot just inside the door. It was a miracle that when Agatha finally moved and smacked me on the back, hard enough that the thud of it practically echoed, the wad of soggy bread that I coughed up didn¡¯t hit him. That ¨C that would have been very, very bad.


    The first conscious, rather than instinctive, move I made was to pull the towel tighter against my chest and try to look small. The way he gave a shallow nod in Agatha¡¯s direction after looking me over made my stomach lurch.


    ¡°Proficient work, as expected of one worthy of serving this House. The Grower¡¯s work is at its best in conflicts the likes of which neither of you will ever see, but his craftmanship shines through much more clearly in a¡­clean¡­specimen.¡±


    Agatha bowed towards him but didn¡¯t speak. I was still too scared to be insulted.


    ¡°The others will soon arrive, so our guest of honor must be properly attired. Even as a failed heir, tainted with mundane blood, you extoll the legacy of your creator. With all the weight that represents, you should be better. The Lady, even despite your clear insufficiencies and defects, saw fit to gift you with a spear more than worthy of the Va¡¯Kreth, however. In light of that, I would be remiss to provide anything less than the proper accoutrements. The irony of one of your lineage bearing their raiment is quite delightful, I must admit. ¡®tis a shame that none remain to properly extract the oaths of service, but the wheels of history have chosen to echo themselves regardless.¡±


    I didn¡¯t like the small smile that crossed his face at that, even though the context went straight over my head. It dropped off quickly when his eyes focused in on my skin.


    ¡°The filthy blood that the Flower spawned you from has spoiled your ratios, and so one will have to be resized. That cloth is in the way.¡±


    Agatha¡¯s carefully neutral face didn¡¯t change, but her eyes flicked to meet mine in the mirror as a jolt of pain went up both my chest and my arm. My nails were digging in, hard, right above where the towel ended and my skin began.


    ¡°There is not time for this foolishness, Seedling. You will remove it so that I can take proper measurements, or I will have the House¡¯s chosen remove it for you.¡±


    Agatha kept her eyes on mine, but the only movement she made was the smallest shake of the head.


    At me. Not at him.


    ¡°Y ¨C you won¡¯t touch me?¡± My voice was thin, cracking halfway through. I felt that strange thread of magic that had connected us go taut as I waited for his response.


    ¡°I will forgive this outburst once, Seedling. Work on your memory; I have no need or desire for such vulgar things. Do not insult my skill by assuming I need anything more than sight for measurements. Unless you were glamoured or hexed by the likes of the Lady, I will see all I need from the surface. The towel merely hides folds and joins, the irregularities of mortal flesh that cannot be predicted through clothing without more intense observation than you are worth.¡±


    The condescension was clear, but so was his meaning. The binding stayed solid, unbroken. That, if I was thinking through what it was right, meant that he was telling the truth.


    So, after a few deep breaths and more sharp pains where I dug in my nails, I let the towel drop. My eyes stayed shut as tightly as I could keep them. There was nothing for five heartbeats. I counted.


    ¡°Stand.¡±


    I did, shakily. By some miracle I didn¡¯t knock anything off the table as I used it for support.


    ¡°Turn.¡±


    I kicked the stool and stumbled before recovering. I might¡¯ve made it a full 360, or maybe I stopped somewhere after 270. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure, but my hands at least ended up back on the table.


    ¡°Acceptable. Your garb will be delivered by another servant in due time, then you will be taken to be introduced. Do recall your etiquette in the meantime, if you wish to be useful.¡±


    He paused. The clink of metal and glass settling onto something rang out.


    ¡°This style is traditional for a Va¡¯Kreth initiate. One in disfavor and disgrace such as the Seedling would be required to bear viridescent thorns upon the bands. The Grower¡¯s lineage was entitled to grey markings in other affairs, which shall carry through despite the perversion of tradition. You have proven competent in the past; I will leave the cosmetic details and the execution to you, Favored.¡±

 Chapter Twenty-Five - Tammy

    Chapter Twenty-Five - Tammy


    ¡°Turn it up.¡±


    Bone clacked against plastic as the show edged up a few notches, sound-wise. Enough to drown out the low, repeated, pleas from Scully. Mini, my great skeletal partner in crime, had taken whole-heartedly to helping me forget about my fuckup. Which meant cartoons ¨C since apparently he didn¡¯t just watch soap operas ¨C and alcohol that I definitely hadn¡¯t bought.


    I was coming out of the drunken haze now, unsure how long it had been. The constant, burning, itching pain in my branded palm made it hard to luxuriate in the buzz. I knew what it was from. How could I not? Getting drunk with the boney bird wasn¡¯t exactly a way to help Teresa. When I wasn¡¯t trying to help her, the brand would heat up. How had the Lady put it?


    ¡°Regardless of where you tread it will shape you.¡±


    Cryptic bullshit is what it was. The heat on it was a lot different than what the bracelet left ¨C more painful and more direct. Less of an aftereffect, more of an intended reminder. Best guess I had was that the bracelet just didn¡¯t care and the heat was from it starting to turn on. With the brand, though, it was a reminder that I was making a conscious choice that would have lasting repercussions. It still read Betrayer, but I had a gut-deep feeling that the rune could shift if I followed through and set myself onto a path.


    That was a problem for a Tammy that could understand things better. Barely-sober Tammy that had woken up drunk and stayed awake munching on chips and sipping water through the hangover was where I was now. And that me was currently at their breaking point, finally lifting the half-closed pocket mirror up from the table to meet the judging eyes of the broken monster that was supposedly my family¡¯s guardian spirit.


    Alyssa had said that, before I screwed up and drove her off yesterday. She¡¯d run with tears in her eyes, the pain vying with something that wasn¡¯t quite hunger. Or that was, just not in a way that sustenance could sate. Rita had commented, too. About how I was there without her. As if she¡¯d come with me before?


    I still didn¡¯t know what she even was. How had she ended up in the mirrors? How had she known Grandpa? What had been going on with the hand in the matriarch¡¯s study, and why did she seem so¡­broken?


    ¡°Lady Blackleaf. This is an important matter ¨C pay attention.¡±


    Something shocked me, a spark of twisted mana arcing out of the glass and into my finger. The jolt sent the last leftovers of my binge falling away, along with what felt like half of my internal organs as goosebumps sprang up, instantly. Whatever that spell was, even my nausea fell away so that nothing but guilt and nerves could cloud my mind as I looked down at the ethereal woman where my reflection should have been.


    She looked even creepier than usual, shrunk down to fit in the makeup mirror. There weren¡¯t any others facing the right direction in the living room right now, and with the blinds closed this was the only option I¡¯d given her, since she wouldn¡¯t take over the TV when Mini was here.


    Her dress was looking more defined. Faded patterns on the fabric, limbs that actually looked and moved like a limb should. There wasn¡¯t a sign of the clawed metal or the seeping leaves that I could see, and the stains that had been there that first night were gone.


    ¡­oh she was starting to look angry. The shock this time was louder, an arc of black-tinged grey that twisted out of the edge of the mirror and then down to the bracelet on my wrist. For the first time, I watched it visibly shift, moving out of the way so the power grounded into my skin with enough pain to make me flinch back.


    ¡°An unregistered entity is approaching the manor. Your input is required.¡±


    ¡°Uh ¨C ok? Didn¡¯t I say you could handle things how you thought best?¡±


    Her face flickered. More of a petulant frown than a glower, at least as far as I was starting to understand her face. ¡°Extenuating circumstances. I am not now, nor have I ever, been cleared to act in situations like this when a lockdown has not been initiated.¡±


    ¡°Tell me about them?¡± I sighed, setting the mirror down where I could see it and rubbing at the scorch mark on my wrist as I took a sip of water.


    Her face went back to the passive illusion. ¡°They appear to be human. Female based on apparel and mannerisms, between thirty-three and thirty-six years of age. Approximately twelve pounds higher than optimal for their body structure, as recorded in Initiative-approved reference materials. Mana sig¡­¡±


    ¡°Too specific! I don¡¯t need to know that. Tell me ¨C let¡¯s see ¨C anything relevant to why they¡¯re here and who they work for?¡±


    ¡°Broadcast credentials are consistent with handbooks provided to the Initiative for verifying agents sent by the Paranormal Incidents Division of the United States of America. Equipment suggests a field agent or liaison ¨C no indications match recovered wetwork teams from¡­¡±


    I waved a hand and she actually stopped. That was new. Usually I needed to talk to her. The mention of the government drove home that I¡¯d never actually looked at the message they¡¯d sent. I told her to put it on my desk if it was important, but nothing had ever showed up. Unless¡­


    ¡°Are they walking up? Driving? Uh, teleporting, flying, whatever?¡±


    The door to Grandpa¡¯s bedroom was ajar. The desk in there was just as neatly organized as last time, nothing I didn¡¯t recognize on it. I clicked the door shut, pushing down the surge of sadness, and then bounded up the stairs to the next floor. The one with the secret room.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°They are traveling on foot from the designated arrival point for supplicants.¡±


    Scully was bouncing across the mirrors as I moved, since I¡¯d rehung most of them after finding her. She brought a hand up, the mist around her coiling in and then resolving into an overhead view of a prim woman in a suit, a briefcase in one hand and a badge at her chest. The sound of wind and nature poured through, birds starting to chirp as the sun came up outside. And under it, clear as day, I could hear her swearing to herself about heels and gravel.


    She was only a quarter of the way up the drive. I had a bit of time. The secret door clicked open as I hip checked the paneling. It looked empty without all the boxes of books we¡¯d removed, and I knew for a fact that we¡¯d cleaned everything but the skeletal ravens off the desk. Now both were gone, and a neat pile of paperwork sat on its scratched, wax-stained surface. Peeking out from under an unreadable scroll covered in intricate, multicolored curling script was an envelope with an obvious government seal and angry red letters on it.


    I pulled it out of the stack, wary of how some of the text on the scroll started to glow as I reached forward, and ripped it open. The text swam a little as I went back to the hall. I hadn¡¯t really slept, had I? And everything was stained¡­


    ¡°Shit. This is too wordy. Scully, could you summarize it? Also ¨C please let me use this mirror and talk from the next one.¡±


    Fuck. FUCK. I¡¯d just been ignoring the government agency that literally had standardized paperwork to cover up disappearances. People acted like they couldn¡¯t touch me, but what if¡­


    ¡°That letter repeats multiple spurious demands that are made based on improper interpretations of past concessions made out of convenience. It appears that the lack of a response has both infuriated and emboldened them ¨C I assure you, Lady Blackleaf, you are not required to treat with an unannounced guest, or to acquiesce to demands for taxation, tithes, wergild, or the surrender of portions of the Initiative¡¯s collection held within my Archive.¡±


    I had time to change shirts and throw on something that wasn¡¯t sweat pants. Maybe five minutes ¨C not enough to shower or really fix my hair. The mirror wasn¡¯t useful anymore, and again, Scully followed me down to my room. Her projection faded out as I took off my shirt.


    ¡°What?¡±


    Silence answered. I remembered my last order to her. ¡°You can talk while I¡¯m changing for now. Please tell me what they were asking about. Taxes I get, but wergild? Surrendering things?¡±


    Her voice came back, clearly annoyed, yet not at me.


    ¡°They seek to rely on the naivete of the Lady Blackleaf to trust in established structures. The government they represent holds no legitimate claim to the manor ground, much less the extraplanar holdings that are your birthright. Seventeen separate provisions across four binding agreements are violated in their insistence of a right to repossess currency, artifacts, and materials prohibited under their jurisdictions. Rest assured ¨C all sites and possessions remain secured. Losses are not compensable, and objections regarding their efforts are on file with the Initiative and relevant metaphysical arbiters. Cleanup within affected realities was completed¡­¡±


    I cut her off as I threw on the least-wrinkly blouse I could find. It might¡¯ve actually been Teresa¡¯s at one point with how tight it was around the chest. I didn¡¯t really have any clean pants ¨C shorts would have to do.


    Anyway, I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to hear the rest of that. If I¡¯d inherited an active conflict with the government, I was fucked no matter what people said about them being hesitant to touch me or how carefully I kept from dipping into dangerous magic.


    ¡°Scully, please. I get that you¡¯re upset about this. If they¡¯re trying to push us around, they¡¯re in the wrong. But I¡¯m not my grandpa. You know that, right? I¡­I can¡¯t fight them over it. So, what should I do?¡±


    ¡°You are the Lady Blackleaf. It has always¡­no. No. You are not ****? Where is ****? What¡­¡±


    Her voice broke. There wasn¡¯t a mirror with her face or the projected agent in it convenient to look into as that sharp crackling built, going from vocal fry to unintelligible barks that hurt my ears. Then, with a sound like shattering glass, the house¡­


    Twisted.


    It was like reality turned ninety degrees all at once. The lights blinked out, and a sheet of glowing darkness fell across the sunlight that should¡¯ve streamed in from the window. I fell sideways onto the bed, bashing my arm into the headboard with a gasp.


    ¡°W??????????????????????H?????????????????????????O????????????????.??????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????A??????????????R??????????????????????????E?????????????????.??????????????????????? ???????????????Y????????????O????????????????????U??????????.???????????¡±


    Something writhed in the darkness of the window. It spilled out, dripping from the threshold as the room began to shake. It brought with it the stale musk of rotting leaves and a sharp, coppery tang. The air itself pressed down around me, heavy and hostile, as if it was trying to pin my head to the bed. I could just barely lift it enough to see the glowing silver discs and two clearly broken wings where the glass should have been.


    Something dripped out of the light overhead. It hit the bed next to me with the sound of tearing cloth. I started to babble, all thoughts about getting presentable forgotten.


    ¡°Scully? Scully! It¡¯s me, Tammy, remember? Lady Blackleaf? Olaf¡¯s granddaughter. You¡­¡±


    Amidst the shaking and the dripping and the writhing background of thrashing wind, my door creaked open. There, nudging it forward with a wing that shouldn¡¯t have been strong enough, was a raven. Stark white bones nearly glowed in the darkness, a shroud of ghostly skin and feathers trailing in flashes behind Mini as he hopped inside.


    He opened his beak, and for the first time, made a sound. A caw that echoed like the room were a hundred times bigger. Harsh, creaking, and unending. The sound made things thrash in the dark. It hurt to hear. Even my eyes were starting to vibrate as it built and built and built until something¡­


    Snapped.


    It stopped. Scully vanished, light came flooding back, and my door clicked shut leaving the room quiet and still. No corrupted babbling darkness. No dripping. No pressure but the overwhelming thought about what might have just happened. When I finally managed to stand and look around, my room was normal, save for a faint stain beneath the window and a swathe of holes next to my head where the blanket had corroded.


    Wait ¨C no. There was a crack in the window. It went right down the middle, something subtly different about the two sides. The trees and the sky didn¡¯t line up. It was¡­.


    It was a distraction I couldn¡¯t afford, since I could see the government agent walking up to the porch now. I was out of time and needed to get the fuck down there.

 Chapter Twenty-Six – Tammy

    Chapter Twenty-Six ¨C Tammy


    I couldn¡¯t handle the house right now anyway. Scully and Mini ¨C they could wait. The bird was already watching TV again like nothing had happened. He didn¡¯t even look at me as I stumbled up to the door.


    Before there was a knock, I yanked it open and stumbled out, stopping just long enough to make sure I had my key. Not like the magic winged monster lady would let me get locked out ¨C I just needed to drive and be out of here. Training was later, and it would be bad enough.


    Shit. Shit. I was crying and the government lady saw. Whatever she started to say died in her throat, and for a few seconds she just fidgeted in place. I took her moment of indecision to get down the stairs.


    I called back, ¡°If ¨C if you want a ride back, hurry up. I need some space.¡±


    ¡°Are you ok? You look like¡­¡±


    ¡°Look, Lady, no shit. My sister¡¯s with the Fae because I fucked up. I¡¯ve cheated death four times that I know about in the last week, and now I¡¯ve got the government knocking on my door. I¡¯m obviously not great. I have too many commitments right now to deal with you, but I¡¯m not gonna make you walk back to your car in those shoes. Come on, before Scully glitches out again.¡±


    There was tapping as she typed something into the tablet in her hands, but her feet crunched on the gravel behind me soon enough.


    ¡°You mean the Archivist? We¡¯ve noticed¡­¡±


    ¡°Problems. Yeah yeah. I inherited a mess and I¡¯m doing the best I can. She said she¡¯ll fix herself. Just give it time and avoid provoking her. She gets scary.¡±


    ¡°Miss Aufrey ¨C that¡¯s an understatement. You realize that it could kill millions of people, correct? It¡¯s already¡­¡±


    ¡°I know. I fucking know, ok? She acts like she¡¯s known me my whole life, but she keeps mixing me up with Grandpa and Teresa and I guess my fucking mom. She¡¯s getting better and more intact, but something messed her up. Please, just leave her alone. If this gets worse¡­look, I can¡¯t handle that myself and I definitely don¡¯t think you all could even help. She has a grudge against you right now and not enough brains to think better of stupid orders. I¡¯ll ask for a book and she brings me something that makes my eyes start bleeding, damn it.¡±


    I slid into the seat, leaning over to clear the passenger one. Again. It was already junked up with fast food bags from after Alyssa stormed off.


    ¡°So yeah, I know that if you push her or push us, it could be Bad. You don¡¯t think I know that? I¡¯m in so far over my head that I¡¯m just swinging from one problem to the next without a single break.¡±


    There was more typing. Then silence. I shoved the burger wrapper from yesterday onto the floor and ignored the way the brunette woman grimaced as she slid in.


    ¡°This is barely cleaner than my daughter¡¯s car.¡±


    She was a spook. There had to be an angle. But right now ¨C as I was shaking and holding myself up with the steering wheel realizing that yes, I had just almost died, again, to an omnipresent spirit that shared my house and apparently used to follow me around town ¨C I couldn¡¯t really care less. I just laughed.


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    ¡°Then you get how teenagers are. Sorry I¡¯m not giving the Aufrey hospitality people expect, eh? Grandad had tea with gods while I was falling apart at boarding school, then died. He left us to find things out for ourselves. I¡¯m Tammy, but I¡¯m guessing you know more about me than I do. Care to give me my, I don¡¯t know, third existential crisis this week?¡±


    ¡°Agent Victoria. Your case is an¡­interesting one.¡±


    ¡°You can say fucked up, you know. I¡¯m not a snob. Or immortal. Or anything. I¡¯m just a girl in over my head doing the best I can. Right? Fuck its nice to ask questions, but look. Whatever you came here for ¨C it¡¯s gonna have to wait.¡±


    I slapped the off button on the radio as we jerked back, tires spinning a bit on the gravel. Then I took a deep breath and tried to relax as she tapped away at her tablet, even with her eyes looking right at me.


    ¡°I see, I see. You¡¯ve been consorting with the Sphinxes, the last report said. Scrying either of you has been quite difficult, you know. There¡¯s an entire team from the Seattle office dedicated to you. Another to your sister. Both of you got bumped up from single agents in the scramble to catch up on your grandpa¡¯s death ¨C but we couldn¡¯t really come up to you until now. Did you really not know anything about magic before this?¡±


    I let us drift to a stop halfway down the driveway as tears welled up.


    ¡°No. No we fucking didn¡¯t. If we¡¯d known none of this would be happening. And since nobody fucking bothered trying to talk to us this entire mess is going on I¡¯m drowning in it. And Teresa¡¯s¡­I have these dreams, right? Who knows if they¡¯re true, but I really think she¡¯s doing worse than me. I tried to drink away my fuckup last night and I saw her crying her eyes out, naked.¡±


    I bit back a scream. It didn¡¯t quite work.


    ¡°All of this shit, every single mistake we made, could have been prevented if you¡¯d just talked to us. This isn¡¯t just my fault. You, the sphinxes, the Belmonts ¨C even if we¡¯d laughed in your fucking faces you could have told us!¡±


    I was panting at the end, choking back sobs. There was a thunk of a tablet hitting the dash. And then, an awkward pat on my shoulder.


    ¡°Miss¡­ no, Tammy. Look. I¡¯m your liaison. I have a job, and being a therapist isn¡¯t part of it. I know you¡¯re angry. I know you¡¯re scared. For what it¡¯s worth: I agree. And, I think you don¡¯t deserve all of this.¡±


    She sighed. I stiffened as the pat turned into an even more awkward side hug, up until I pushed her away.


    ¡°We were worried ¨C do you know the kind of things your grandpa could do? We¡¯d be crazy not to be terrified about what teenagers would do with that. You two were our top priority, but every letter we sent vanished. The Archivist threatened anyone that tried to scry directly or even get close. This entire town was pretty much closed off to outsiders, and once you two seemed calm we stopped pushing. It wasn¡¯t worth provoking an incident when it was watching you two wherever you went.¡±


    I wiped at the tears and pushed her away. A bit too hard, but control was difficult. ¡°Bullshit. She¡¯s only in mirrors.¡±


    Agent Victoria laughed at that. ¡°Oh. No, no, no. Reflections, Tammy. Do you know how little that distinction matters these days? If you¡¯re in a car, or someone has sunglasses, or any kind of polished metal or even quality plastic? That spirit can be anywhere. Until you pulled it back under control and opened up the Archive, it was tracking your every step. I¡¯m supposed to question you about that, but I can tell this isn¡¯t the time.¡±


    ¡°No shit.¡±


    I got us moving again, gliding up next to her car ¨C an SUV that literally screamed ¡®the government owns this¡¯ even without any branding on it. She didn¡¯t make a move to leave. When I met her eyes, she sighed.


    ¡°We want to work with you. My bosses might not be happy, but they trust me enough to do this. So instead of negotiating and dealing with oaths and commitments and all that, we can table that for later. I¡¯ll do what your Archivist wants and make an appointment. Until then - you want someone you can ask about anything? I¡¯m your woman. You can come to me and I¡¯ll fill you in on everything I¡¯m allowed to, no strings attached. I swear that on my self.¡±


    The air thrummed a little. This time, the ripple didn¡¯t leave me feeling like I was on fire. If I was understanding things right ¨C that meant that something was holding her to the promise. I couldn¡¯t help but notice, even addled like this, that the only thing she actually promised was that she¡¯d tell me everything she was allowed to. Nothing saying that she wouldn¡¯t lie.


    Still. It was an opportunity I couldn¡¯t pass up.


    ¡°Can you tell me¡­¡±

 Chapter Twenty-Seven – Tammy

    Chapter Twenty-Seven ¨C Tammy


    Manifestation. Mnemonics.


    I flicked my wrist. The veins of mana coalesced, a ball of flame settling into my hand.


    Modification.


    A non-physical tug at the threads made it start to spin, wobbling slowly around my hand.


    Manipulation.


    From my other palm, a part of my mana snaked down into the water, sinking into the fringes of the coral¡¯s magic and splitting into three. One by one, the strands coiled up, ribbons of water breaking the surface and layering around the orb. This was the worst part ¨C wrangling the external mana without breaking it, since if I took it over completely, the water would fall. If it hit the fire, the whole thing would implode and my nose would start bleeding.


    Three safe rotations passed before it started shuddering in place. Right before I lost control and let it go, a rain of dagger-like bursts of air passed by, shredding it.


    ¡°That¡¯s the four benchmarks! If I were Mom, that would be a pass. Sad to say she¡¯s teaching today though ¨C we can¡¯t move up to the juicy stuff without her ok. Since you¡¯re pretty much at the limit, I¡¯m gonna call it here.¡±


    Alyssa was back to her usual, chipper self. She¡¯d been more subdued the first few days after the incident, but I found myself glad she hadn¡¯t left. Not that I¡¯d have blamed her is she had, but a familiar face really mattered to me. By this point, she counted. I didn¡¯t feel quite as at home around Mini or Scully anymore, even if both had been normal since the day I¡¯d met Agent Victoria.


    I had another meeting with the spook next week ¨C actually scheduled through Scully this time. I¡¯d try to avoid breaking down at this one. She¡¯d been helpful, and I¡¯d learned a lot, but all of it was obviously told to me through her specific lens and colored by how she hadn¡¯t sworn to tell the truth. Still, I didn¡¯t have a reason to doubt the way she¡¯d driven home that I was, like I¡¯d thought, in way over my head.


    I knew a little bit more about who grandpa was and what he¡¯d done. A lot more useful things about the Initiative, and a list of books to read at home. It was coming along, and with Alyssa¡¯s help I¡¯d managed to get as far as I had. My hand ¨C after that drunken night ¨C had been calm. Like it recognized I was sticking to my convictions.


    The bracelet¡­less so. I hadn¡¯t realized until the agent had left, but she hadn¡¯t commented on it, at all. She¡¯d mentioned the brand, talked to me about Teresa and how Ash wasn¡¯t the worst court to be taken by, but not once had she seemed to notice the furtive piece of jewelry.


    I had a sneaking suspicion it had been hiding itself from them. If I could figure out how to use it, like Alyssa was sure I could¡­


    A ball of damp sand smacked me in the face and crumbled down between my tits.


    ¡°Knock knock. Earth to Tammy. Come in, Tammy.¡±


    I bit back an impulsive response, letting out a deep breath as a sigh and flopping down backwards. There was sand in my bra now ¨C that wasn¡¯t coming out. It was just a fact of life. Like how if Mini saw me fuck up when I was practicing, he¡¯d trigger a laugh track from the tablet before giving the lightest possible advice that would turn out to help.


    Usually.


    ¡°I¡¯m here. Just distracted. I had three ibuprofen this morning and I¡¯ve still got a headache.¡±


    ¡°Well duh. You¡¯re trying to cram an entire childhood of training into as little time as possible. You probably aren¡¯t even sleeping.¡±


    I flinched. The dreams were still there when I did. Seeing the same thing time and again, or these chaotic, impossible things. It was too much. So yeah ¨C maybe I wasn¡¯t sleeping enough.


    ¡°Maybe. If your mom¡¯s out, I guess we¡¯re done for the day. I should get going.¡±


    I didn¡¯t make a move to stand. I could hear her shuffling around, the sweep of a leg and the flap of her wings marking the destruction of the little sandcastle town she¡¯d taken to building while we practiced. I just stared up at the geographically-implausible sunlight and avoided looking in her direction.


    It wasn¡¯t that I was mad at her. I was still mad at myself for that day. It was, uh, that she¡¯d worn a swimsuit, and I didn¡¯t want to stare. Suffice it to say, there was less fur than I¡¯d expected. It was there on her arms and the sides of her neck, but there was a lot more bare skin that I¡¯d expected after seeing her mom¡¯s form. It wasn¡¯t even the illusion ¨C well probably not, anyway ¨C the fur just thinned to a light, downy tinge like it was on her face as it got closer to her torso.


    And to her uh¡­


    ¡°Stop being so quiet! We could still go for a swim ¨C you look about my size, so c¡¯mon! It¡¯ll be fun, and you need to give yourself a break. Even the government said so!¡±


    Never should¡¯ve told her that. Ugh. When she stuck a hand out, I let her pull me up. She was warm even though I¡¯d been in the sun ¨C that just wasn¡¯t fair.


    ¡°Okay, fine. I don¡¯t need to borrow your stuff though. I don¡¯t think it would fit anyway.¡± We were about the same stature, yeah, but her chest was¡­not quite as big as me, when she wasn¡¯t under her illusions. Before I could let myself think better of it, I shucked my shirt off, then kicked my shorts up and snatched them out of the air.


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    ¡°Wait, really? Shit ¨C I mean, wow! I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d say yes. You look nice in red!¡±


    I felt my cheeks heat up with an uncharacteristic blush as I tucked the clothes under my arm and went over to grab my purse and phone. I¡¯d actually worn a swimsuit under stuff the last few days, since it did feel tempting. I just hadn¡¯t felt up to it by the time the headaches started to stick and we backed off the exercises.


    ¡°Well, hurry up! This was your idea!¡±


    I ah, might have put a little extra sway into the step as I started out, leaving her to trail behind.


    ~_~_~


    I still didn¡¯t know what kind of magic they had about the weather, but fuck. That pool was way better than the actual beaches here in-state. Tons of rocky outcrops to jump from, little nooks behind waterfalls that came out of almost nothing, and perpetual sunshine shining down inside the colonnade even if it was cloudy past it? Amazing.


    Between that and having Alyssa show me that you could very much do a cannonball even if you had wings, it almost made up for the other sphinxes staring at us the entire time. The little one ¨C Euanthe? ¨C hadn¡¯t been out here this time, so it was all adults and their possibly-jealous partners staring at us.


    It was weird though. I was half sure, as I shook my hair out and stepped back into my shorts and cringed at the feel of sand, that they¡¯d been glare-staring at Alyssa more than me. Between how she talked about being ostracized and the vague bits of the conversation with Rita that I could remember, it was obvious that she needed a friend as much as I did now.


    Teeth and all, her smile was dazzling when she let herself go. It was nice to see her happy.


    ¡°Looks like it¡¯s about four. Mom¡¯s not going to be back until eight or nine ¨C but you could stay for dinner if you wanted! C¡¯mon, it¡¯ll be fun!¡±


    Well, how could I say no to that?


    This time, the dining hall was packed. We got a few looks ¨C we¡¯d toweled off, but her wings were still fluffed up like an angry chicken¡¯s and my hair was still plastered down ¨C that didn¡¯t last long since we weren¡¯t the only people filing in straight from the pool.


    A smiling, hairless cook with too many fingers and wide, wide eyes met us at the window. Something about him felt oddly, suspiciously, calming.


    ¡°Ah, Alyssa! And Miss Aufrey, I presume? I was hoping to see you ¨C why, I¡¯d half thought the little troublemaker here was hiding you from me.¡±


    I tensed at the question, but the sphinx next to me just laughed and blushed. ¡°I¡¯ve uh, just been busy with the lessons. I¡¯ve been back to cook in the mornings!¡±


    ¡°Mmmhmm. Back to cook for someone else, with such a smile on your face I hear.¡± The man nodded, his grin not breaking. His mouth, I realized, wasn¡¯t really moving as he spoke. The longer I looked, the less like a person he was. Roughly textured, almost painted, skin. A posture that felt forced. Teeth that looked almost carved. His eyes, though, swiveled to me, shining and full of life. ¡°It is rude to stare so long, Miss Aufrey.¡±


    ¡°I¡­sorry. I have no idea what you are.¡± I blinked and looked away. ¡°You asked a question though. I thought¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes yes, it¡¯s a bad idea for you. My dear employers find my kind much less appetizing. We have a compact, as much as your darling little mentor here pushes the boundary of it time and time again.¡± The eyes swiveled to Alyssa as I looked back, the unnerving details fading into the background again. ¡°Not that I¡¯d ever begrudge her for it. Isn¡¯t that right, Alyssa?¡±


    She flushed, her skin tinting as red as her fur. It was worse than when I caught her staring at my bikini. ¡°Mirin here means that I, uh, technically shouldn¡¯t go into the kitchen to cook like I do for breakfast. It¡¯s their space, but um, I like going back. The rest of them are nice. They don¡¯t treat me like my family does.¡±


    A hand that¡­didn¡¯t seem to be attached to him reached up from under the counter and wiped away an oily tear, leaving a faint and fading smear on his cheek. ¡°Ah, I believe this is what they call heartwarming. It¡¯s so hard to just find a quiet, empty nook to relax in these days without a Hunter trying to wipe us out for existence, and we¡¯re always happy to provide. You¡¯ll be welcome just as much as your paramour, Miss Aufrey. Us deviations have to look out for each other these days.¡±


    It was my turn to blush. ¡°We¡¯re not dating.¡±


    They laughed, then pulled plates from somewhere behind them in what I realized was a suspiciously hard to focus on interior to the kitchen. ¡°If you say so. Enjoy your meal ¨C I hope you share your grandfather¡¯s tastes.¡±


    Before I realized it, Alyssa had hustled us over to the table. I had no idea what exactly had happened and it sort of made my skin crawl, but¡­nothing there felt bad. Mirin didn¡¯t exactly feel like Scully or Mini, but he definitely wasn¡¯t as pants-shittingly terrifying as the room of bone spikes or the Faeries.


    ¡°Sorry, Mirin does that. It gets easier the more you meet him, but try not to look too deep. I¡¯m not sure if its just your eyes or something else, but it takes a lot longer for most people to notice more than the fingers. Trust me though ¨C he means what he says, and everyone back there¡¯s great.¡±


    I nodded and took a deep breath. The smell of salty, barely seared meat cut artfully into strips reached my nose and I realized that yes, I was really hungry.


    Halfway through eating, Alyssa pulled out a phone. I choked and stumbled over my words trying to say something, anything, that wasn¡¯t a question.


    ¡°Tammy, calm down. It¡¯s a phone. I know you have one, so please don¡¯t freak out like you¡¯re going to die seeing it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re still in a bikini! It doesn¡¯t have pockets!¡±


    She blushed and flicked the strap on the top.


    ¡°That¡¯s not a satisfying answer! We were swimming for hours!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s waterproof, I don¡¯t see what the big deal is.¡±


    She flipped it over. Her claws retracted back into her fingertips, and man was it weird that when pulled in they looked smooth enough for¡­


    Nope, no getting sidetracked there. She tapped a carved rune on the back.


    ¡°See, waterproofing. I can do yours if you want me to. It even works to keep the speakers running, doesn¡¯t even need charged since I put in an intake. Plus mundane people won¡¯t steal it.¡±


    ¡°Later, definitely, but I¡¯ve never seen it before. I don¡¯t even have your number, I could¡¯ve called in that I¡¯d be late to lessons earlier!¡±


    ¡°Um, well, I thought¡­¡± She shrugged and looked down. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure you¡¯d want it. We can fix that if you want. I just know you need to go home after lessons and you worry yourself sick there, so texting or calling would just be a bother. I really think keeping your break running would help, though, just saying.¡±


    I swallowed back a sudden, inexplicable ball of nervousness, along with the last bite of my food. Then, I made an offer.


    ¡°Well, uh, it is Tuesday. I promised to take you to Mordo¡¯s sometime, so¡­¡±