——

Spring had taken its sweet time to come to Seattle. The rains had lasted longer than anyone had expected, the skies staying a stubborn iron-grey. Still, despite the colder-than-usual temperatures, the trees had unfurled their leaves weeks before, flowers of every kind opening to loft pollen on those rare dry days. Here, in the city’s suburbs, Spring’s arrival was somewhat less marked than in other places, with manicured green belts and carefully-arranged stands of trees between developments being the most-visible indicators of the changing seasons. Still, there could be no denying it - the world was returning to life, the surge of a new year bringing the promise of new beginnings. And though the night was cloudy with only a few strips of pale moonlight making their way across the ground, for the man’s purposes, tonight, between spring and summer, was perfect.

He left the bolt cutters to one side and squeezed in through the hole he’d made in the fence. The fingers of his right hand wrapped around something small, barely larger than a chicken’s egg. He could feel the shapes carved into its surface pressing into his palm, and its age seemed almost to pull with a weight that had nothing to do with the thing itself. His hands shook, partly from excitement - after all this time, he was being trusted to take part in one of the Workings. Of course, he didn’t understand the shape of the entire plan, and he didn’t entirely understand the part he was playing, but that hardly mattered. The thing in his hand seemed to buzz against his mind, now that he knew how to listen and feel for its power. He could feel something inside, waiting to be awoken, like a seed waiting for water.

The man moved between tall shadows, quick and furtive. The lights were, of course, dimmed for the night, but that didn’t mean he could linger. Being caught, either in person or on camera, would only hamper their plans, even if it wouldn’t stop him now. He would only need a moment, after all. On quiet feet, the man slunk between enormous, foul-smelling stacks, an earlier shower having only made the scent more pungent for the moisture. To every side, the smells of soil surrounded him - decay, dead leaves, and small, low plants thriving on rich loam. He slid between two of the largest patches of darkness, cast by huge structures to each side, and there he found what he was looking for.

With reverence, awe, and infinite care, he set the thing he carried on a surface in front of him. The smell of soil was strong here, stronger than anywhere else in this place, and only a few feet away were trees, plants, and flowers of a dozen kinds. It would thrive here. The Working would succeed. His fingers unwrapped from the stone he’d carried all this way, and his hand suddenly felt cold, like he was leaving part of himself behind. He shook his head and reached into his coat and pulled out the other treasure he’d been trusted with.

The smallest lances of golden light shot out from between his fingers, even as he tried to keep his hands wrapped around a tiny copper cage, the bars engraved with impossibly fine detail. Inside, a ball of light hovered, bouncing off the bars with small, bright sparks. The man shivered, and he could feel the power trapped inside the cage. Thoughts and words filled his mind, emotions he had no place for and didn’t understand. He set the cage aside for the moment, then took a knife out of his trouser pocket. This was the part that thrilled him, what he’d been so carefully taught. A dozen other Initiates had burned their minds out trying, but not him. He slid the knife across the back of his hand, and scarlet blood welled from the shallow wound.

He moved quickly, pulling the final tool from his coat - a wooden stick carved with a riot of runes along its length. He hadn’t made it - no, the strange one had, the man who talked to himself and dug at the ground with his fingers. The man didn’t like him, but he couldn’t deny his usefulness. He dipped the end of the wand into the gathering blood on his hand, and started working. A circle, a few lines, runes here and there, just so - and with a snap against his mind, he felt the Working take form. It took something from him, the Working’s construction, and he felt suddenly dizzy. His knees gave out and he fell forward, his arm flailing, and he knocked something over with an enormous clatter.

No time now. Someone would have heard that. The man pulled himself to his feet, cleared his head. He moved the wand into his right hand, and touched its bloody tip to the edge of the Working. In his left, he held the tiny, golden cage. The ball of light inside flickered and bounced harder against the bars, and the man felt prickles of fear, panic, terror and loss crackle up his arm and into his mind. They were meaningless, of course. His will was the one that mattered, his mind, his intention. The man closed his eyes, and felt power rush through him in a wave, surging from one side of his body, through his mind, and out the wand, into the Working. Runes on the wand flared into brilliant golden-emerald light, and the designs he’d drawn slowly filled with the same energy.

He opened his eyes, and breathed out. Steam billowed from his mouth with that breath, the last pieces of the power he’d harnessed. He looked down at the object within his Working, and smiled. He turned and left, tossing the wand to one side, its purpose complete. In his other hand, he crushed the copper cage and threw it aside, putting his hands in his pockets. Behind him, a door rattled open, spilling a square of bright light across the dark structures, but by then the man was gone.

In its circle, the carved stone rose, viridian light filling the carvings. A few feet away, green shoots exploded from the soil and began to twine together; thickening, growing, spreading.

——

There were, to Morgan’s mind, few stranger places than a Wal-Mart. She could never decide why - was it the buzzing fluorescent fixtures that didn’t even approximate daylight? Or the slow shuffle of the employees, a gait matched, over time, by the customers? It could have been the strangely-precise pyramids of produce so waxed and spot-lit that they looked more artificial than actual plastic fruit. Still, though part of her suspected that some dark engine beyond the forces of corporate bureaucracy was at work in the Renton Super Center, what she saw tonight had left her very close to speechless. She pulled her phone out of the inside pocket of her jacket and glanced at the time - nearly two in the morning - then tapped numbers into its face. Ahead, another light exploded in a shower of sparks, followed by a chest-rumbling sound like the mating call of tectonic plates. Morgan tapped the call button.

The line connected a moment later, and without waiting for a greeting Morgan spoke, “You know, sometimes I think you keep things from me on purpose.”

“Why, good morning, Agent Blackwood,” came a deep, smooth voice, untouched by the late hour, “You’ve Miss Grey on the line as well. I apologize for rousing you so early.”

“Mm,” Morgan said, bringing a coffee approximately the size of a diver’s air tank to her lips, “Now, you said this was a guardian spirit.”

“Yes,” Shiloh said, her voice tinny over the phone speaker, “At least, based on what the man who called in described.”

“Mmmm,” Morgan said.

“Now, to be entirely honest,” Sol said, “He wasn’t precisely…shall we say, entirely within his right mind. Based on the way he talked, I suspect he had been partaking of…recreational substances. Quite a lot of them, were I to make an otherwise-uninformed conjecture.”

“And you gave me the address,” Morgan said, her eyes drifting back to the parking lot.

“Of course,” Sol said.

“Sol,” Morgan said, her voice going a little flat, “Tell me honestly. Did you not tell me that we’d been called on a guardian spirit of a Wal-Mart because you thought I’d hang up on you and go back to sleep?”

“We don’t know that it’s-“ Sol began.

“Part of its chest is the Garden Center sign,” Morgan cut in, “It’s made a body out of bags of topsoil and decorative shrubs, and it’s pulling shade trees out of the parking lot to make arms and legs. If it wasn’t of this place before, it bloody well is now.” She took another sip of her coffee, and tried to push down the sense of exasperation and disbelief swirling through her mind.

“How big of a body?” Shiloh said.

“I’d guess…four meters or so,” Morgain said.

“In real units, Blackwood,” Shiloh said.

Morgan sighed, “Fourteen, fifteen feet? And heavy, it’s been kicking cars aside.”

“Can you see anything else about it?” Shiloh said, “Any markings, symbols?”

“I’m not nearly that close,” Morgan said, “But I expect you’ll want me to change that.”

“With expediency, Agent Blackwood,” Sol said, “Do you think you shall require assistance?”

“You’re kidding,” Morgan said, her voice flat.

“As reluctant as I am to wake you up, Agent Blackwood, even you pale in comparison to rousing the entire staff. McAllister alone, I expect, will release a sting of invective that would make anyone else blush.” Sol said.

Morgan looked at the creature and thought for a moment. She’d dealt with out-of-place guardian spirits before - they were a handful, without exception. And, after all, she wasn't entirely alone - Sol had insisted Morgan pick up one of the other Agents on her way out. From her place sitting on the hood of her car, Morgan turned and looked behind her and saw that her...partner? Chaperone? had fallen asleep, the seat laid all the way back. Even with her help, though, Morgan suspected they'd be outmatched. She turned back to look at the guardian, which let out another nearly-subsonic hoot.

“Wake them up, Sol," Morgan said, "Tell them I'll buy breakfast."

"Yes, I understand you are looking at it,” Emmaline responded as the taxi bumped through the darkened streets of Seattle. She tapped irritably on the glass in front of her, not for the first time, in her quest to get the driver to turn the horrid rap music of. Also not for the first time, he ignored her. Next bonus, she promised herself, she would buy a car of her own.

“I’m just saying that guardian spirits usually attach to special places, sacred in some way. Wal-Mart is pretty much the expression of soulless human misery.”

Nearly half an hour had passed since the head office had roused her from her bed. For a wonder she hadn’t been up late so it was only mildly annoying. She had pulled on her jogging attire and a light jacket against the cool spring air, grabbed her supplies, and hailed one of the few, surly, cabs to carry her to Morgan. She hadn’t even bothered to grab her gun.

Morgan’s reply was lost in a particularly loud blast of semi-obscene lyrics. Emmaline narrowed her eyes and focused, nesting parenthesis in her mind. With an audible pop, a component in the radio blew and the cacophony subsided to a gurgling static. The driver fiddled irritably with a now useless control. Ahead of them a light suddenly turned red. The driver stomped on the brake and the car skidded to a stop, slamming her against her prudently donned seat belt. Nothing for free.

“Look, I can probably contain it, at least for a while, but we need to know what it is doing there. They didn’t dig up some Druidic grove for garden supplies or something did they?”

Darkened Seattle loomed ominous in the streetlights. She should have felt the joy of of spring. Privately, she always hated the few weeks between the thaw of the snow and the first blooms of green. Tonight though, the green growths seemed more ominous than their skeletal, leafless, forbearers.

The cab pulled up in front of the Wal-Mart parking lot.

“You want me to take you up to the door missy?” the cab driver asked with oily politeness. He had his tip to consider now after all.

“No this is fine,” she responded curtly, shoving a generous amount of cash at him and hopping from the vehicle. Lights in the store flickered and died. Part of her wanted to wait here until Rob or Jacob arrived, but Morgan was in there, alone. She moved across the parking lot at a fast walk. Pulling her silver athame from her jacket pocket she held it, pointed down, against her pant leg. Better to be safe, etcetera. There was Morgan, her familiar aura marking her more clearly than her striking looks.

“What can I…” her question trailed off as she followed the other woman’s eyes.

“That…. Is not good.”

Robert woke up at the noise of his phone ringing. It took him two seconds to realize that alarm clock showed 2 am, and that caller was Sol. This night Robert had gotten whole three hours of sleep. Wondering whether he should be happy that he at least had some sleep, Rob sat up on his bed and answered the call. ”Robert. Something has turned up.” Said his overseer ”What is it?” Rob grunted half sleepily.

"The situation as we understand it presently is this: a guardian spirit of unknown intent has appeared in the suburbs," Sol said, his deep voice thrumming over the phone, "Shiloh will text you the address, but the spirit is in an advanced state of manifestation. Miss Blackwood is on location with it, and she reports the creature is around fifteen feet tall with a body made of bags of topsoil, fruit trees, and lawn decorations. She believes she will require assistance in handling the spirit, so I would appreciate if you would make haste."

”Roger that, I'm on my way.. Guardian spirit, 15 feet... Wait, wha-”

”Excellent” Sol said as he hang up on his end. Robert was dumbfounded for good ten seconds trying to wrap around what on what on earth he was supposed to deal with. If Morgan was needing backup, situation was bad. Fifteen feet guardian spirit sounded worse than bad. If Robert had time and money, he'd try to ask his military friends for a light anti tank missile or grenade launcher. But there wasn't any time. ”Damn it” he muttered, rose from his bed and started quickly putting on some clothes.

In good two minutes he had put on his trousers, socks, shirt and vest, but not yet buttoned them. Shiloh had sent him the address and immediately after that Rob had called cab central for a ride at his door. For some breakfast he devoured one tomato and slice bread all the while wondering how on earth they'd deal with this bloody giant. His silver bullets wouldn't do much but annoy the giant mashup of ground and decorations.

Another six minutes and he had buttoned his shirt and vest and started to put on his grey jacket. His mind was elsewhere completely; he hadn't dealt with bigger creatures since the troll two years ago, and even then they had had proper planning on how to chase that thing back into safer neighborhood. Also trolls were more easily scared than cursed guardian spirits, which Robert hadn't heard of in ages. Sounded like he had to leave exorcism or magical hullabaloo to others and instead help to draw it's attention elsewhere.

Twelve minutes after getting a call from Sol he was more or less functional. He definitely felt more dirty standing outside the apartment house as his morning shower never happened. To make himself feel more human he kept straightening his jacket, tucking the hat deeper in his head and patted the holster on his hip to make sure his revolver was there tight. He cursed the guardian spirit in the back of his mind. This day was supposed to be paper work all day, but for that to happen he'd need several mugs of coffee.

The Cab came in two minutes after Robert had waited outside for two minutes. He took the front seat and leaned backwards. ”To the Renton Supercenter. But let's stop at a gas station on the way.” Robert said as he started to search his Tax Card from wallet.

Thirty five minutes later he arrived at the Wallmart parking lot along with 3 gallons of gasoline in addition to a bag containing several bottles, rugs and a lighter. When the driver had asked about his shopping, Robert had answered taht his friend needed some gas and drinks at Wallmart. At least cab left without driver giving any doubting looks.

On his way through the lot Robert opened the bottles one at the time and emptied their contents on asphalt. Wet trail followed Robert on his way to the being that had ruined his good night.

There was more than one Working taking place in Seattle that night - or at least one in the midst of the attempt. A magical circle served two purposes – to protect and to define. The protection part was the most obvious, creating a boundary through the caster’s will and power that prevented anything within from influencing the world beyond it. The latter part, however, was overlooked more by the amateur Occultists yet it was equally important – it cleaved the world into two parts – the space within and everywhere else. A fixed point in reality for a Witch to alter, impose restrictions and send forth invitations.

Beth stared at the large, toxic orange toad that sat within. He sat at about three feet high, his large eyes glimmering with flames that danced across the murky orange of his sclera. Beth carefully placed the knife onto the table - the once gleaming blade now stained with the fresh scarlet of her blood- placing it next to a, leather bound book with the words ”Faust’s Peerage” emblazoned on the top.
Taking a large, docile chicken out from the cage at her feet, she raised the knife to its throat before speaking, “I name and bind thee, Lefylyn, under the Principalities of Fire, sealed by blood to –“ She was interrupted by the first few lines of “Mama Mia” sounding from her pocket. She sighed, “Sorry, I have to take this.”

The demon blinked – clearly offended. It was nothing more than a minor demon at best, however like all demons of fire it was very proud. The elaborate ritual and incantations was more for its pride and cooperation than any practical magical reason and she had no doubt the interruption had prickled its ego somewhat.

“I do hope this is important,” Beth answered, “You are interrupting a very important part of a chicken’s life,” as the Fire Toad leaped into to air as if to strike her, before colliding with the boundary of the circle as if striking solid stone.

“My sincerest apologies to the poultry, Miss Buchanan,” came the smooth reply of Sol, with what Beth suspected was sarcasm. “However I am afraid there has been a disturbance of some magnitude which your particular talents may be particularly suited to.”

“Oh, I’m sure Herr Professor can deal with it, I distinctly remember I wasn’t on call tonight,” Beth replied, tapping the edge of her blade on her arm impatiently, “Besides I have nothing to wear.”

“Miss Buchanan, we don’t have an on-call register, this is P&H.” Came the sardonic response, “I am afraid I will have to insist you fulfil your contractual obligation, besides Dr Stern has already been informed. Guardian Spirits are not something we take lightly.”

“Well what is it? A undead wraith bound onto an area? A Construct, such as a Golem, a demon?” Beth said, wondering if she could get away with texting Emma the instructions of dismissal.

“I’m afraid Agent Blackwood was not able to discern much information-“

“Wait, Morgan’s facing it?” Beth sighed, softly mouthing the word bitch under her breath, “Fine, I’ll be there.”

“A remarkable change of attitude, Miss Buchanan.”

“Lets just say I owe her one. From a long way back.” Beth said, hanging up. She met the beady stare of the chicken in her grip, “Well, Mrs Pennyfeather, you live another day.” She mused on the relative sanity of talking to her sacrifices as she placed the chicken back in its coop, before turning to the fire toad.

Well no point in wasting a perfectly good summon ....



Morgan and Emmaline would have witnessed a very strange sight indeed – an orange streak of fire rippled through the night sky and struck the Guardian, splashing across the spirits body and enveloping it in golden fire.

Beth came running across the car park, her boots gliding across the slick tarmac of the carpark until she reached the pair. The Blood Witch was clad in a pair of tough, black denims accompanied by a plain white tank top - practical and hardwearing for whatever might come. Over her shoulder a plain, brown satchel was slung over, containing her “tools.”

“I’m afraid that little fellow will only serve as a distraction at best, maybe ten minutes at most,” She said, breathing heavily, her eyes flickering to Lefylyn, the demon’s enflamed, amphibious body scrambling across the much bigger monster’s body as it attempted to swat it away. Lefylyn wouldn’t last long before the body Beth had fashioned it for this world would disintegrate as the very aura of power emanating from the Walmart Guardian weakened it, eventually he would be injured enough to leave the confines of its contract and back to the Beyond.

“Goodness, now there’s something you don’t see every day,” She said, raising her eyebrow at the ragdoll like nature of the Spirit. “I mean I had heard Walmart was taking security more seriously these days, but this is something else.”

Her casual manner aside, Beth was a little worried. She wasn’t exactly sure how she could combat this thing – she didn’t know the name of its caster or indeed what exactly it was. Banishing wasn’t simple and required as much knowledge beforehand of intended target that was possible to get.

Hey eyes flickered to Emmaline, as annoying as it was to admit, it was reassuring to have another Witch to consult on the matter. “Guardian Spirits can’t strain too far from the premises in which they are bound … I think we could confine it to a few feet of movement. A small change in reality, redefining Walmart to a few square feet in the car park for a few hours. Might take me some time but it would at least make it easier to hit. Although that's more your area of expertise, Emmaline? As for me ... I doubt I can banish it without knowing more about it - but I could sever it's connection with its Caster. It would eventually dissipate on its own, although that would be several hours later - but it would definitly be weakened and much easier for the others to kill the old fashioned way.”

The room was mostly dark, save for the streaks of white, cloudy sunlight that cut into the otherwise gray room, illuminating the messy contents within. In the center was a queen sized bed, with space for two, though there was only one figure hidden beneath the covers. Around the bed, the room was slightly messy, a pair of slacks hung over the foot of the bed and a pair of dress shoes sat haphazardly by the closet. On top of the nightstand sat a digital alarm clock, its green digits one of the only visible sources of color in the room. Next to the clock laid a black block of plastic and glass, fiercely vibrating as it tried to get the attention of the room's inhabitant.

Slapping the phone with his hand, Jacob drew it towards him and answered, his eyes not even bothering to open. "Ah, Hello Jacob." It was Sol, his boss and taskmaster. A friendly enough guy, if not one with terrible timing. "I hope you're not to terribly busy. Ms. Blackwood needs some assistance with a guardian spirit at the local Wal-Mart-"

Jacob hung up the phone and immediately rolled over to return to sleep. A few seconds later, his phone started ringing again. Jacob was half tempted to ignore the phone call, but as much as it annoyed him, Tanner still was his boss. Reluctantly picking up the phone with a sigh, Jacob pressed the piece of plastic against his face.

"This is a terrible idea of a joke, Sol." the tired man grumbled.

"Oh I assure you Mr. Mcalister, this is no joke, there is indeed a guardian spirit going rampant at the Wal-Mart."

"Today was supposed to be my day off Tanner." Jacob reminded him irritably. He was vaguely aware of the almost irony in this situation because it was in fact Tanner that had insisted that Jacob took today off anyway.

"I wouldn't have called you if we didn't need you." Sol replied in his ever even voice. "Oh, and please do hurry. Apparently the spirit is kicking over cars." Sol added, almost as though it was an afterthought.

With a sigh Jacob pulled himself out of bed and quickly dressed himself in one of his work suits- a dark steel gray one with a white shirt and red tie, which was secured to his shirt with a silver tie-bar. Running a brush a grand total of twice through his hair, Jacob pulled on a pair of brown leather shoes, and pulled his leather shoulder holster over his shirt. Unlocking a strongbox on his dresser, Jacob slid his pistol- black with a titanium plated slide, into his right shoulder, and his two spare magazines into his left. He threw his jacket over his shoulder and proceeded out of the bedroom.

It was early in the morning, so Jacob crept quietly through his own home and towards the door, so as not to wake up his daughter. In the silence of his home, the slightly creaky floorboards seemed to be even creakier than normal. Despite that, Jacob managed to reach the door with relative quietness, and had just unlocked the door's deadbolt when-

"Daddy..? Is that you?"

Jacob winced and silently cursed himself as he turned to find his daughter, Amanda, sticking her sleepy head around the corner, staring him down with a pair of sleepy eyes. Still wearing her pokemon pajamas, Amanda rubbed at her eyes, a lock of hair sticking out of her head from static and sleep.

"Sorry sweetie, daddy has to go to work, the others need some help." Jacob said in a quiet, almost apologetic voice.

"But... but we were supposed to go to the park today." Amanda said sadly. Jacob winced. Since Tanner had previously given him the day off, Jacob and his daughter had planned out an entire day together, involving a trip to the park, followed by the mall, and then dinner at the nearby IHop, which for some reason Amanda loved. To say Amanda looked disappointed was a bit of an understatement. Rather, the little girl looked almost devastated that she was no longer able to spend the day with her father.

"I- I'll be back in time for dinner, and then we can go to IHop, I promise." Jacob assured her. Amanda responded by miserably walking away back towards her room, leaving Jacob alone at the door. Jacob sighed and exited his home. He quickly climbed into his car and drove off towards the Wal-Mart with the Guardian Spirit in question. If Guardian spirits understood english, Jacob would have some choice words for this day-ruiner. Otherwise, Jacob wondered if spirits were also vulnerable to silver bullets.

The Wal-Mart was easy to spot- the giant guardian spirit inhabiting part of the Wal-Mart sign was similarly easy. Pulling up in his car next to where the others were, not bothering to park in any actual parking spot, Jacob lazily climbed out of the car and walked to where the others were. Already there was Morgan, she wasn't human, that much was certain, but Jacob wasn't certain what type of occult she was- it felt rude to ask, and Jacob assumed she'd tell him when she thought it was a good time. Either way, Amanda seemed to like her, and his daughter seemed to be a supernatural judge of character. Also there were Beth and Emma, two of PHI's resident witches, knowledgeable in the occult. Jacob while friendly with both of them, was rather wary of Beth's work involving the occult. However, Amanda seemed to adore both of them, and would willingly follow either of them wherever they told her to go- which reassured and worried Jacob in equal measure. Also there was Miller, Jacob's usual partner for most cases. Robert was very much like Jacob and the two got along well.

"It appears the only one missing from our merry little band is the invisible one," Jacob mused, referring to Mandy, whom while not invisible, was difficult to spot because of her habit of blending in to the background very easily- even when there was no one else in the room.

In perfect silence, in velvet darkness, in quiet stillness, the spirit slumbered. It dreamed strange, alien dreams that even its creators would have no ability to understand, and it waited with the patience of a seed in the parched desert. Time passed, and the darkness changed, and the silence changed, and the dreams changed, and the spirit still waited, curled in on itself. Then, from somewhere beyond the darkness, a spark of will flickered like the lightning before a storm. From that spark, power dripped, then trickled, then surged in a torrent. The dreams broke and faded, the darkness retreated, the stillness became bright, growing awareness. Simple perception became sensation, became the spirit’s mind, uncoiling from itself, spreading and catching more of the power sheeting down onto it.

That awareness grew, slowly at first, but with the inexorable power of the tree that shifts the boulder. The consciousness the spirit had only understood certain things - its creators had worked carefully to ensure that this was so. When fragments of a different awareness, one the spirit could find no anchor for within itself, surged through on the tide of magic that fed it, the spirit did not, could not understand. Those fragments of another mind wound and spiraled around its own like creepers and vines across the trunks of a rising forest. Still, the spirit unfolded from itself, spreading, flowing outward, feeling out the world to every side. This wasn’t where the spirit had been made, it knew that at least. This place seemed warmer, the soil was different, the air felt more acrid against its senses. Like moss spreading over a fallen tree, the spirit flowed outward from its anchor, its mind sending deep roots into the world. It gathered more power, more magic, more raw energy into itself and grew, and grew, and grew; a mighty oak rising from rich, dark earth.

The power that had awoken it began to flicker and fade, consumed by the spirit’s growing presence. Still the strange pieces of another awareness clung to it, and still the spirit could make no sense of that other presence. It understood that a sacrifice had been offered, enough to bring it out of dormancy, to bind and seal it to this place. But there was more behind that power, something so strong that it nearly tore the spirit’s mind apart from within, and the spirit did not even understand it enough to defend itself, the creepers for a moment threatening to throttle the giant tree they wrapped around. Then, a voice, a lance of power and command. The other awareness vanished, crumbling like ash.

The Shaman binds and guides you, that voice whispered through the spirit’s mind, The Shaman has returned you.The Shaman gives you purpose. Hear me three times, O Spirit.This place is sacred, for I say it is so. Make this place your home, and destroy those who trespass.

The spirit understood. With a burst of power, its awareness touched the plants to every side, wrapped around the fungus in the soil, the roots, the bulbs and rhizomes. It would need a form to defend this place, and the life here would do. Guided by the Shaman’s commands, the spirit could already feel interlopers, and it would need to deal with them swiftly. The spirit guided the life it touched, wove bones of wood and stone and metal, wrapped it in the green flesh of living plants, bound together with soil and the strange, flat coverings it swept up. Satisfied, the spirit flowed into the form it made for itself, and rose with the sound of a landslide. It stood, and in its eyes, blue will-o’-the-wisp fires burst and danced.

The intruders had retreated, the spirit felt them flee, stumbling over their own feet, further into a tall dwelling it had no words for. It felt satisfied at that, though more permanent measures would doubtless be necessary soon. With no intruders to deal with, the spirit turned its attention to its new home. It knew this place was sacred; the Shaman had said so. But sacred places should be wild - and this place was anything but. The spirit could feel soil below, but there was some kind of strange, black surface covering the ground. It took several steps, trying to find a break in the strange, easy covering, then moved in another direction. The black surface seemed to stretch for the whole of what it now knew to be its domain, separating the spirit from the soil below. It let out a low, deep cry, raised one arm to hammer down at the ground and break through the dark barrier, when something caught its attention.

The spirit turned its body up, its head turning skyward. Its eyes flared, two points of blue light burning in hollow woven-wooden sockets. It had only the barest moment to understand the demon-toad hurtling out of the sky toward it, and had only barely begun to straighten when Lefylyn hammered into the spirit like a tiny meteor, rocking the both of them back.

The spirit howled, and started swatting at itself, deceptively fast movements chasing the little fire demon. It knew, also, that there were other trespassers approaching - but it would have to deal with its own problems first….

——

“I’ll call you back, Sol,” Morgan said. She hung up her phone and slid it back into her inner jacket pocket, one eyebrow raised at Lefylyn’s entrance.

“I’m impressed” she said, standing up from the hood of her car and turning to Beth, “Fire from the sky and frogs. God only managed them one at a time. Pardon me a moment.”

Morgan walked around to the still-open driver’s door and leaned in. Mandy, the company’s half-Faerie “research assistant,” lay curled in the passenger seat, her eyes closed, snoring softly. Morgan sighed, but she couldn’t blame the girl. At almost any other time, Morgan very likely would have tucked her into a blanket and let her rest, but this would have to be the exception. She reached across and nudged Mandy’s shoulder with her hand, giving the Fae girl a little shake. Mandy rolled over, yawned, but stayed resolutely asleep, one hand flopping next to her head, tossing a lock of dark hair across her face. Morgan sighed, and gave Mandy another jostle, to precisely the same effect.

Outside, the spirit’s low roar shook the air again, and Morgan could feel the irritation in that sound. She glanced out the windshield, and saw the little fire-toad still hopping over the guardian spirit’s body, increasingly frantic. Gold fire surrounded the spirit, but didn’t seem to be burning away at the body it had made - if anything, the spirit’s form seemed to be curing in the heat, like timber drying in the summer. Each hop Lefylyn made left a little dark crater where it landed, but Morgan couldn’t tell at all if the creature’s antics were actually harming the guardian. She was just about to lean back toward Mandy when one of the guardian’s hands moved so quickly that she felt the whum even inside the car, followed by a crack like a tree falling. The spirit’s arm came up from its torso, and its fist burned with reddish-golden light from between fingers like ancient, twisted roots. With another deep roar, the spirit leaned back and whipped its arm through a hard, fast arc, sending the little fire-toad arced through the air like a cannonball, all four of its limbs flailing.

The guardian watched Lefylyn fly away into the darkness, and Morgan thought it looked smug. Then it turned its attention to the gathering knot of P&H investigators, an started stomping toward them. Morgan looked back down at Mandy and blew out a long, slow breath. They’d need her knowledge, the information she’d absorbed from the company archives - and Mandy would need to be able to run if things got worse. Morgan flexed her fingers, felt the knuckles pop, and leaned further into the car, bracing one knee on the driver’s seat.

With infinite care, she leaned over to Mandy, coming so near she could breathe her faint, wild scent. Close enough that the girl’s mind, strange and alien and beguiling, brushed against her own senses in ways she couldn’t ignore. Close enough that she could feel the hidden turnings of the girl’s desires, feel pieces of her that she wondered if the Fae girl even knew she had. So close that she could feel every live wire of Mandy’s subconscious, the things she barely admitted to herself, the things part of her wished someone else knew. Morgan leaned closer, her lips brushing against Mandy’s ear, and she spoke so softly the words were nothing but breath and heat. Inside her, Morgan let the barest spark, the most infinitesimal part of herself flow out with those words, a charged, silken promise caressing the currents of the Fae girl’s mind.

Mandy shot awake so quickly she hit her head on the car’s ceiling. Morgan had pulled away by then, her lips tilted in a playful smile.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, her voice almost more of a purr, “But I think you’ll want to be awake for the next part. You’ll either need to run, or tell the rest of us what to do.” She climbed backward out of the car, stood, and looked over the roof. The other PHI members, tired and in various states of grump, looked back.

“Right,” Morgan said, “Emma, Beth - you need more information about…whatever this is?” She looked at the spirit, and even her eyes widened a little at how close it had gotten, “I…mm. I can handle that.”

“Rob, Jacob,” she pointed at the pair, “We’ll need to deal with this thing quickly, before it destroys too much more property.” She looked at Rob’s makeshift molotovs, “Be careful with those, but I think you have the right idea. Keep it distracted, try to damage it while we figure out a way to…dismiss it. I don’t know how practical destroying it is going to be but…well. I expect you’ll have ideas.”

“Right,” Morgan said, “Now, I shan’t be any time at all.” She gave them all a sunny smile then turned, kicked off the ground, and bolted toward the spirit.

Her long legs ate up the ground in long, smooth strides, her boots thudding on the asphalt. This was not a good plan - but every other plan she could think of would have put one of the mortals - or, more-mortals, at least - in the creature’s path. They wouldn’t heal the way she did, and if they died, the hole they left in the world would be her fault. So she ran, and gathered her will around herself, feeling her senses wrap around her right arm, waiting to be sent through memory and time. Her hand tingled, and she rolled her fingers. Ahead, the guardian finally looked down and saw Morgan racing toward it. The spirit threw its head back with a bone-rattling bellow, then launched itself into its own run toward Morgan, huge legs sending it leaping over cars.

The world went sharp in Morgan’s vision, her eyes following the huge creature. This close, she could see it was still growing, still manifesting itself - vines and roots and branches still spun together, swelling, bark forming like skin. The huge creature took a step toward Morgan and reared back, one arm in the air, and she saw spines of hard, pale wood erupt from the creature’s fist as it struck straight down toward her. Morgan threw herself to one side and the fist crashed into the asphalt less than a meter away from her, leaving a coffin-sized hole in the parking lot and throwing chips of blacktop in every direction. Morgan rolled back to her feet and darted toward the creature, sliding between its legs like a baseball runner.

It reared the spike-covered fist back again and bent in a way that would be impossible if it really had a skeleton, pounding the fist back toward the asphalt like a falling mountain.This time, Morgan hooked one hand around its leg and kicked off the ground, pushing her up from her slide a split-second before the creature’s fist tore another enormous crater in the blacktop. Chips of asphalt flew up and tore at her jacket, several slicing completely through the light silk and thumping against her skin. Pain bloomed through her mind, but Morgan had no time for it. She stepped around to the creature’s side, opposite the spike-fist, swallowed, then rammed her right arm deep between a pair of heavy, heaving roots. Her fingers searched inside for something to hold onto, and after a frantic moment, wrapped around something that felt like a branch - but one that grew under her fingers. She took a deep breath, saw the creature start to straighten again, and released the will she’d been holding into the creature.

For a moment, nothing happened. She could feel no past, not even a present, from the creature. Then, from where she touched it, lines of heatless blue fire erupted, spreading over the creatures body, but they didn’t consume it. Instead, they outlined whorls, arcs, circles, like Pictish tattoos picked out in icy blue flame. The creature threw its head back, its jaw opened, and it screamed, sparks of blue fire erupting from its mouth and spraying into the night sky. Morgan was about to pull her arm back, but even as the blue fire wrapped around the leg where she was standing, she felt the flickers of her power spread through the creature, like minnows in a stream. She felt them reach into the construct, into its thoughts, and, at the last, into its own past. She closed her eyes and let the images collect, each one like someone else’s memory.



A dark sky under a heavy and pale moon, figures mantled in grey and blue and white standing in a stone circle. Their hands are warm from the way they had grasped first each other, then how they had restrained the figure on the altar in the centre of the circle. Blood stains a mirror-bright blade, ons along channels in the altar to a bowl of carved stone. Runes of power are etched into it, and in the center of the bowl is another stone, this one smooth and black and marked with deep, carved sigils. Blood flows into the bowl, onto the stone, and low, rhythmic chanting fills the ear, each syllable pulsing with power.

A bright day some years later, the formless spirit spread latent over a patch of thick forest. The stone circle has fallen, the altar cracked under the weight of too many winters. The chanters come no more, have not come for many years, but the spirit still waits, still watches. Buried under a dozen feet of peat moss and fallen logs, the black stone crackles with power.

Another dark night. Lances of bright light spear the sky, obscuring the stars. In the distance, a city’s lights turn down one after another, leaving the countryside in darkness except for the searchlights. Shrieks piece the night, nightmare whistles of machines even more deadly than the spirit. Fire blooms in the city, dull red and orange light touching the forest glade only lightly. Then one of the hellish, shrill whistles stops overhead, and a moment later there is an impact, then a ripping, then a tearing. The glade is torn to shreds and tatters. The black stone is hurled into the darkness…

It is many years later. A pale hand, shaking with excitement, palms the black stone. The carved lines cast strange shadows that seem to have nothing to do with the late-afternoon sunlight. There is a voice, distant and not understood. The stone is in the man’s pocket. The man is walking.

The stone is handed from one hand to another. More words, but even less understanding. There are two other things, each secreted in a pocket.

The stone is placed in a circle.

There is blood.

There is power.


Morgan gasped as the last images tore through her mind, settling indelibly into her memory. She shook her head, her mind muddled with the swirling after-effects of the spirit’s past. How much time had passed? She looked up, saw the creature also stunned - but only for an instant. Morgan unwrapped her hands from the creature and took a staggering step away, nothing like her usual grace her her step. The spirit looked down at her and seemed to grow, its shoulders broadening, its arms getting longer, its hands more broad. It roared again, this time sounding like a freight train in an avalanche, campfire sparks of indigo light cascading out into the night. Before Morgan could recover, the creature twisted, one arm raised, and brought that arm around in a sweep so fast Morgan would have sworn it left after-images in the air.

The impact was something irresistible, something primordial; like being hit with the very idea of place and time and will and a dozen speeding city busses. It wasn’t something Morgan could have blocked and it came so fast there had been no time to dodge it. She felt her ribs tighten as the blow crushed the wind out of her, felt her arms and legs tug at their sockets as she was lifted into the air and thrown bodily away from the creature, flying back the way she had come in the first place. The lights of the parking lot tumbled crazily in her vision as she sailed through the air like a line drive at Wrigley Field. Her coat flapped around her in the endless moments of weightlessness as she began to fall, and her mind focused on the snap and pop of fabric, feeling the tug and release as the wind grabbed her.

Then the ground rushed up to meet her and Morgan felt the asphalt bite into her hands and arms, felt her knees smash into the blacktop, rolling across the rough surface in a flopping, loose tangle of arms and legs and expensively-tailored silk. Several hours that fit into a a few seconds passed as she careened to a stop, gasping first to get back the breath that had been knocked out of her, then with the pain of a growing list of complaints as her body turned in its damage report. She groaned and knew that nothing was broken or permanently out of place, but she also knew that she’d certainly have an impressive collection of lacerations and bruises at the end of the night.

Her vision finally cleared, the drunken whirls of light in her eyes resolving into the burning sodium lamps above, and of the blue-white fire crawling along the creature. She realized with a start that she’d been flung only a few feet away from her car and the other investigators, which would at least make communication easy - right after she figured out how to breathe normally again. The spirit, now twenty meters away, hunched and turned its bulk to look first at Morgan, then at the ruined Garden Center. It screamed again, and took one lumbering step toward the investigators, hands bunching into colossal fists.

Morgan coughed and rolled over. She tried to push herself to a sitting position but her arm gave out and she flopped back onto the asphalt, her head spinning again. She groaned and sucked in a few quick breaths, then managed to roll into a position where she could pull her phone out of its case. It was shattered, of course, crushed when she’d landed on it, but getting that hard brick of glass and metal away from her ribs felt wonderful. She tossed it aside, tilted her head toward Emma and Beth.

“Druidic…spirit,” she managed to croak, “Summoned by sacrifice a thousand years ago. Brought here by someone recent. Blood magic, bound to a stone - should still be nearby somewhere.” Morgan coughed, and wiped blood away from her mouth, “I don’t mean to be dreadfully dull, but I think I’m going to lie here for a moment, if you’ll excuse me.”

Working with Morgan took a bit of getting used to. Emmaline had seen her do things in the pasts. Astounding things, amazing things and stupid things. This particular act hit the middle of that ven diagram perfectly. At least she didn’t seem to be permanently hurt and she had information that might just be enough to save their lives. Blood magic was Beth’s specialty. Swallowing hard she forced her own fear trying to believe she was in command of the situation. Analyse, decide, act.

The monster lumbered towards them with the peculiar speed that only massive things seemed to project. It roared inarticulately, seemingly offended that Morgan wasn’t as dead as she should be. Its footfalls were like thunderclaps in the distance, pieces of glass from shattered streetlights bounced an inch from the ground with each loping stride. Blue fire still spurted from the things every crevice but it gave no sign of caring.

“Miss Buchanan,” she began calmly, “I believe the stone is more in your area of expertise.” Amazingly, her voice hadn’t cracked. Her intestines seemed to swirl inside of her, in open revolt against her calm exterior.

“I think we can posit that the thing was born somewhere near the garden centre,” she managed dryly. The wisecrack seemed to buoy up her resolve a little. Reaching into a pocket she produced an elaborate fountain pen. At least it looked like a fountain pen.

Closing her eyes she pointed the athamae at the onrushing monster. In her mind an intricate web of golden thread flared like the web of demented spiders. Magical links which made up the world. Gradients of probability and potential, always in motion. Guardian spirits had boundaries, potential exchanged for power inside its domain. There, just beyond the end of the car park. It might as well have been a million miles away for all the good it would do them. Her mind spun as she built her spell, changing the probability and warping the pattern. There was no way she could redraw the boundaries, even with a coven and the right ritual objects that was no easy task, but she could warp it, just for a moment. With an effort of will she hurled the spell forward.

For the merest of moments the boundary existed both at the edge of the blacktop and directly in front of the monster. Several hundred kilograms of hurtling creature struck a surface as immovable and unyielding as a granite boulder. Magic didn’t let you ignore physics. The monster could not move past the barrier, but all that mass times acceleration had to go somewhere. The sound was deafening, like being in a car accident or a bomb going off. Emmaline flew backward into the side of the car, her breath exploding from her body as the arcane back blast flung her over Morgan’s supine form. Glass shattered and car alarms began to howl. She tasted blood. Groaning, she pulled herself to her feet, brushing vainly at her shirt front as she did so.
The creature itself had been knocked flat by the sudden and invisible impact. It dragged itself to its feet leaving behind an incongruous collection of twigs and soil. With a baleful roar it started forward again but at least its momentum had been checked. They needed a distraction, they needed that stone and perhaps most importantly they needed to get Morgan out of here.

“I think we should probably get to work, I’ll try to cover you.”

Beth felt the bonds of her contract loosen as Lefylyn was struck, the guardian’s hands tearing through his body life a hot knife through butter, hurling the fire-toad into the air like a child throwing an unwanted ragdoll. It was then she felt the bundle of power that kept Lefylyn to this realm unwind completely and the fire demon escaped this plane altogether, returning once more to the Other Place. Beth felt a twinge of pity at the fire spirits dismembered body – they say you shouldn’t get close to your demonic minions, yet Beth never could help but grow fond of them now and then.

Such thoughts where soon pushed from her mind however, as her eyes widened and traced the predatory progress of Morgan running towards the construct. Beth’s mouth opened, a wordless protest trying to escape from her lips before all sound was closed off by the tightening of her throat, Morgan’s leap and scurry causing Beth’s heart to freeze. She couldn’t help but draw comparisons between the stunning beauty and Lefylyn, two little creatures running along the leafy behemoth like fleas irritating a dog before being swatted. Not that she would voice either of these comparisons to Morgan herself, neither being particularly flattering.

What happened next was a blur, Morgan being thrown aside, Beth barely registering the hard won information coming from her lips, the beast lumbering forth towards them. Beth stood transfixed, her legs like stone as she watched it come forth, her mind blank as she tried to think of something. She was helpless, unable to summon even a feeble spirit of the air, no time to draw blood and call forth her lesser powers – not that they would be any help here against such a foe. She watched helpless, not even able to attempt to jump out the way as the Guardian came to destroy the trespassers of Walmart.

That was until it collided with solid air and Beth turned to see Emmaline’s face set in determination. Her athamae raised and Beth could sense the workings of her Craft – cold, precise, almost clinical in contrast to her own magic. As the German professor was flung forwards by the own momentum of her spell it broke the transfixion that held Beth, moving her heavy limbs into motion as she scrambled forward, offering help unneeded as Emma got herself up before offering her assessment of the situation.

“Your right …” Beth said, swallowing in an attempt to wet her dry throat. Hey eyes flickered over to Morgan, reluctant to leave her. Memories swimming forth of a time long past, another lifetime almost, certainly a different Beth and the debt owed. But she could do nothing for her demon friend here, she needed to find the stone. She grabbed her bag, sliding it over her shoulder, “I’m going to find the stone and break it – if I can. It will likely get very pissed if I’m successful, but it will be a damn sight easier to kill.”

She pulled her Gloine nan Druidh or Adder Stone, from a pouch in her bag, looking through the hole in the triangular glass rock, gazing into the Astral Plane. She could see the coils of power wrapped tightly around the Guardian, see them spread out through the ground and into the earth, rooting itself and drawing forth power. Focusing harder, she could make out the faint tendrils of power that hung in the air, which she followed towards the garden centre. Nodding to herself, she began to run towards the source. Looking over her shoulder, she spared one last look at her companions, feeling a twinge of guilt at leaving them there, but pushed it aside. She wanted to help them, and the best way of doing that was breaking the stone.

~ * ~

Beth had always found Walmarts to be strange, very American places. It seemed almost sacrilege for the variety and activity befitting a bazaar or marketplace to be confined and industrialised by such a corporate venture. However, as she made her way through the leafy foliage of the garden centre she had to admit, she was a little impressed. It was big and if she closed her eyes she could imagine she was in some far off jungle in distant lands.

However her eyes were not closed, there were fixed looking through her Adder Stone, following the tendrils of power until she located the stone, a delicately carved rose hovering a few feet above the intricate circle inscribed on the floor. She wrinkled her nose – it had been drawn in blood, something considered a bit vulgar by her coven. Looking around, she noticed something that looked like it had been thrown aside, a wand of what she suspected was runes of considerable power etched onto it. Not the work of an amateur, although to be thrown aside so carelessly …. It was strange, yet fortunate. She grabbed a plain, silver knife from her bag, tucking the wand under her shoulder.

Beth placed the knife on her palm, slicing across her skin which was accompanied by a familiar pain, before doing the same with the other. This was the essence of blood magic – no magic came without sacrifice, to break the barrier of your skin and expose yourself to the world, allowing magic to flow within and out. Emmaline was right – this was her area of expertise, but it was more than that. This was her magic. The legacy left behind by the druids, their scattered wisdom preserved against fire and blade by the Covens of her homeland. Dipping the wand in her blood, she etched a few new rune onto the circle – inscribing her own name in Ogham. This was her way in.

She placed her hand upon the stone, allowing her blood to trickle over the smooth, black stone, infusing it with her power. She closed her eyes, allowing her mind to drift back the millennia to a time where robed men stood in oak groves adorned with mistletoe, with silver blades staining the white snow with scarlet blood, with the cycle of birth and death was recreated on top of a stone altar. Beth’s head leaned back, her chin raised as her eyelids snapped open - her eyes rolling back into her head. Her body jumped as she felt a surge of power hit her body like a truck, the witch’s legs trembling as she felt a metallic taste tinge her mouth, sparks of power crackling between her lips as she forced words out through the sheer raw power absorbed within the stone.

“Flesh of my flesh, kin of my kin,
I enter this covenant by broken skin,
Spirit evoked within this shrine,
My blood I offer, my power I entwine.”

Beth’s body trembled as her mind delved deeper into the maelstrom of blue light and patterns, both familiar and alien as she carefully wove her own magic within the chaos. Normally she would never attempt something like this – binding her own magic with an unknown enemy’s. It left such a personal mark with someone with ill intent, but with the immediacy of the situation she could think of little else.

Deeper and deeper she burrowed into the codex of the object, catching each loose tendril of magical energy and linking it with her own. If anyone was to walk in on her physical body, they would have witnessed the Scottish witch’s body crackling with magical energy, her hair standing on end. They would have seen the white of the witch’s tank top stained red as she released a scream – blood pouring from a slashed opening that tore across her back. Beth’s mind grew fuzzy with the pain – she had underestimated her foe – or perhaps foes. They had noticed she was there and had the power to attack her and with her magic so intertwined with their own there was little she could do to defend herself except to bear with the pain and hurry up. At last, as another wound cut deep across her arm, her shoulder burning with agony as a burn was seared into it, she had finished.

“This brotherhood I disband,
Relinquish all vessels at our command –“

Beth was thrown back with such force she felt a crack of the garden centre’s glass walls as she was thrown against it. Sliding down, bloodied and bruised, she watched to see what would happen within to the stone that sat within the circle.

From the moment she finally jolted awake, Mandy’s mind was working. Hazily, she’d have to admit, but still: working.

Right up until Morgan hit the ground.

Then there was no thinking, only running—a straight shot that, like Morgan’s, was less than graceful. She stumbled and dropped down next to the bleeding woman, still in the somewhat unfamiliar position of trying to catch up to her surroundings; her thoughts dragged, stumbling as obviously as her feet.

She couldn’t understand her disorientation. Usually, these things were easy to plan—dozing was not napping was not actual sleep—but what had started as a light doze in the car (during which she could still hear everything, including Morgan's muttered complaints beneath the chaos) had skipped right past nap and deep into REM sleep with neither her notice nor her permission. And now she was paying for it.

She heard Morgan bark information, smelled gasoline, caught snippets of a plan tossed between their two magic experts. Glanced Morgan over, winced at her injuries and the tang of blood in the air. Managed to duck out of the way as Emma, too, was thrown aside.

And still her mind was working, working, working. Scrabbling for all of the pieces and trying to pull them into a cohesive whole.

And something stuck. Whether or not it was the right something was anyone’s guess, and she had a feeling at least a few of the others would disagree.

Guardian, she thought. This is a guardian.

Mandy jumped back to her feet and took off. The treads of her shoes almost slid on the cool asphalt—yet another pair of beloved Keds worn out by her new choice in career.

She shot a glance at Rob and Jacob over her shoulder—the only people left who weren’t injured, and the ones most likely to jump to more...extreme measures. They looked like grim twins to her in this light. Grim twins that would hopefully have her back, but would also hopefully wait before doing anything too drastic.

“Cover me, please!” she called, in that frantic, less-than-confident way that kept it from being a demand. Other members of the team threw around orders and requests as easily as they did banter, but for Mandy, every imposition came out sounding like a preemptive apology.

Then, more certainly: “And don’t kill it!”

* *

She found Beth crumpled, more blood, and a guardian spirit that seemed to be getting angrier by the minute—angrier, and no smaller.

In a desperate gambit, she grabbed the stone, trying to ignore the slick feel of it beneath her fingers. Like Beth, she felt magic thrumming through it and the creature in front of her. Like Beth, she took a breath and clasped it tightly, trying to wrap the object in her will.

But she also reached out, a fluttering, tenuous tendril of glamour, and touched it against the crackling power that could probably overwhelm hers in a second.

And this time, she addressed the creature, not the caster.

Please, she begged. I don’t know who brought you here, I don’t know what they said, but we’re not here to hurt you.

Possibly, she was going to hear about this later. Possibly, she shouldn’t be speaking on the others’ behalf.

But possibly, if she were an ancient guardian, jerked around—without sentience, exactly, but also without consent—and dumped in a strange new place, she would be cranky, too. Even crankier when everything in her was screaming, You’re being attacked!, and then a gaggle of strangers showed up to confirm the theory.

Her hands trembled, head aching with the effort of maintaining even the smallest contact with something so much bigger than she was.

We’re trying to protect this place, just like you.

Mandy was, in general, an optimist, but she wasn’t stupid. Even as she said the last few words, trying one last piece of grasping logic, she braced herself for the backlash. Will you let us help?

Beth's mind wove through a storm of magic, power, and will; a mystic chaos that spread down into the earth with eldtritch tendrils writhing, curling, twisting together to every side. This, of course, was the spirit's form, the ancient structure set down by sacrifice and ritual long, long ago. The spirit was a force of nature given corporeal form - not sentient, but canny in its own way. It had been created for a specific purpose, one that it was very much reveling in performing now. Even while the witch wove her magics through the spirit, it stood up from Emma's assault and bellowed again, taking another massive step toward the remaining Investigators. Again, it grew larger, more green and living plants lacing its body together, and that surge of energy burned and tore at the magic Beth sent into the creature.

Moving deeper, though, that's where the real answers were. The spirit's will held only action and purpose, but there was another will buried in the swirling tempest. Like lines of starlight, the tendrils of power from the will that summoned and bound the creature flickered in her mind. With words of power, she touched that will, drew its power to her, bound and befuddled it. There was another will on the other end of that power, another mind, another intention, of that she could be absolutely certain. Nothing ancient, nothing projecting through time or across vast distances - someone of the modern time...and someone quite nearby.

Confusion filled the link, and Beth's will began to subsume the other practitioner's. Images filled her mind, flowing in from the magic she wrapped around herself. She saw two men, one tall, one less so. She saw two minds, one sleek and luminous and filled with purpose, one like a box of jagged glass, all sharp corners and shattered edges. To every side of the pair, Beth saw innumerable small, bright lights, each like a tiny, golden sun. Each was trapped in a tiny copper cage, each cage hung from the distant, dark ceiling of the room the men knelt in. The lights danced in the cages, and the room itself seemed filled with echoes of distant emotions. She felt terror, helplessness, dread and loss, each modulated differently from each other, each fear a subtly different flavour. More seemed about to pour through the link when the tall man, the one with the luminous mind looked up. She heard a deep, rolling voice, though the man's lips didn't move.

Disband, of course, this deed is done,
And you'll soon see what I've begun.
This night marks mortal power's fall,
Soon, all shall fear the Shaman's call.

The tall man placed his hand with a clap on the smaller man's shoulder, and the smaller man shivered. Both of their eyes closed, and the smaller man reached to a pair of the cages hanging from the ceiling, wrapping his long, dirty fingers around them. He took a deep breath, and Beth saw power - enormous, thunderous currents of power, surge through the small man. It didn't stay within him at all, only moving through the contact with the larger man like water over an aqueduct, and it gathered around him, heavy, vicious, dangerous. The smaller man dropped his hands, the golden lights he had wrapped his hands around faded, the last few sparks dribbling from his palms. The larger man smiled, raised his hand to where Beth's point of view appeared to be, and that power roared out of him, across the link, through the spirit, and into Beth, hurling her against the glass.

From where she landed, Beth saw the circle around the spirit's anchor-stone flare into blue fire edged with golden light, the circle and runes burning away to white ash. The magic binding the spirit to the caster's will crackled and faded at the same time, the spellwork unraveling like it had never been. Now, there was only the furious, surging feeling of the spirit's own will washing through the world, and if anything, it seemed to be growing faster. Glass tinkling down around her, Beth heard the spirit bellow again, another wash of blue sparks painting the dark sky.



The spirit felt its bindings tear and fray away, fluttering into the ether, but it didn't care. It had already been given its purpose, and it would serve, even if there were no new instructions. Only a few steps away now, two men that smelled of fire and oil scuttled, and the creature took another huge step toward them. The others, it knew it would have to deal with soon enough. Doubtless, they were some kind of threat it had never encountered before, but these two, it understood. Metal and fire and bottles, those were threats it could make sense of. It roared again, and broke into a run.

Then...something else. Another voice, another will flickering through the spirit's consciousness. This one quiet, wild, nothing like those that had come before. Words flitted through the spirit's mind, a gentle entreaty. No orders, no binding, no commands. It didn't understand, not completely, but it did know this new person wanted it to...stop. There were no orders, but there was a desire - not quite a command, but the creature could not resist the will of one who held its anchor and addressed it. Confused, the creature slowed only a few steps into its charge, its enormous bulk meaning it still took several staggering steps to come to a halt.

Slowly, the spirit turned its head, blue eye-lights fluttering in the early-morning darkness. It stood still, hands still bunched into fists the size of motorcycles, and looked at Mandy. She could feel its confusion, its desire for orders - and she could feel exactly how annoyed it was at being prevented from crushing these intruders into its sacred ground.

Robert wasn't one of those who came along with Morgan. He always was careful when it came to supernatural, especially when encountering something he didn't know much about. Morgan had mysteries varied from suspicious healing powers, strength to supernatural proportions to her weird ability to figure out events that have happened. However the two did agree on things when it did to their job.

Morgan had bolted towards the Guardian, fast like an athlete. Creature's abilities came quickly clear, far faster than it's constantly growing size would have assumed. But Morgan was one heck of an investigator herself; she evaded the blows coming from impossible angles and finally she hit her fist inside the being. The blow did... Something that made Guardian Halt for it's time. This is where Robert was about to take his toss, before the being started to move again. As in, it threw quite a blow to Morgan, who flew several yards through the air. Robert was left surprised at the sight. "Bloody..."

"Well christ, this seems a bit out of our league." Jacob commented, noting their distinct lack of armaments to fit the situation. He had his pistol, Rob probably had his sidearm along with his homemade molotovs. Jacob did have a shotgun in his trunk, but he doubted that would do much more against a guardian spirit of such size. Silver bullets would still bother it though.

"I suppose we'd oughta get its attention," Jacob offered, as he began advancing on the Guardian, pistol in hand. He didn't advance at a sprint, and made sure to keep ample distance between himself and the Guardian, trusting more on distance than his fast reflexes to prevent harm from coming to him- for as hardy as he was, unlike Morgan, neither he nor Robert would survive a blow like that without anything less than several broken ribs, and possibly a collapsed lung.

He fired off his pistol at it a few times, more to get its attention than actually kill it- the silver bullets hissing as they burned into its equivalent of flesh. His shots seemed to suddenly stop the creature just as Robert lighted up one of his cocktails; quick glance at the PHI witches revealed though that Emma had done some of her tricks to temporarily stop the Guardian's movement. Both she and Beth had sustained some injuries doing their magic and it seemed only he and Jacob were left standing properly, along with...

Mandy. Robert wasn't comfortable with her being this close to danger. “Cover me, please! And don't kill it" Mandy yelled at the two. It was easy for her to say; as Robert made another look towards the Guardian, it gazed back. Seemed like the detectives were next threat for the being to defend it's precious Wallmart from. Robert didn't like the idea at all. He toughened up and prepared for a sprint. However, the creature's movement stopped. If Robert had to guess, the being seemed... Confused for a moment.

"Our peashooters won't do much good... Get a vehicle or grab those bottles, let it chase us!" He yelled at Jacob. He then focused his attention at the Guardian as it slowly turned towards Mandy and the witches. "Stay away from them" Robert yelled at the spirit and angrily threw his molotov at the creature. The bottle crashed and the gasoline inside made a fiery ball of flame at creatures side, some of the liquid spraying over the Guardian and igniting pieces of cheap decorations. It did definitely make Guardian angry as it was being tainted by something impure. Robert quickly ignited two other bottles before grabbing them and making a run around Guardian.

Sprinting for his car as Robert began lighting molotovs, Jacob vaulted across the hood of the vehicle, and threw himself into the driver seat. He started the car with one hand, while another popped open the cover of the sunroof. He revved the engine a few times to get it running, and threw the car into drive. Skidding over to where Robert had ran, Jacob reached over and threw the passenger door open.

"Get in!" Jacob yelled. Robert didn't think twice. He threw ran at the free seat, throwing one of his molotovs as he made his escape.

There were too many things going on at once for Emmaline to keep track. Ties and tethers leapt into being in her magical sight, like competing puppeteers trying to work the same marionette. Flames leaped over the creature as the two men ducked and weaved, hurling their improvised firebombs, igniting the bark and wood where it was dry enough to allow such things.

She didn’t understand what was going on and that made her uncomfortable. Action was the only tonic for indecision her mother was fond of saying. Lowering her athame, she reached down and half lifted, half helped Morgan to her feet. The half familiar buzzing sensation began at the back of her mind as their skin touched. Carefully she helped the other woman into the car.

Turning back towards the creature she found it surprisingly indecisive. It seemed by turns irritated by the flames and intent on turning Rob and Jacob into greasy smears and regarding Amanda with a type of curiosity. Not friendly exactly but neither did it move to smite the girl. Beth was out of her sight, in the garden centre doing… something. Emmaline pursed her lips. Blood magic made her uncomfortable. So much imprecision in blood, its centrality to life gave it power and meaning but there was always an element of flux to it that she mistrusted.

Carefully she reached out for the bundle of emotions that considered itself Beth Buchanan. She was careful not to brush the other witches mind, keeping herself a respectful distance removed, but close enough to be noticed when the other woman had a free second. She pushed the image of the indecisive guardian towards Beth, trying to keep her own analysis out of it. Thoughts could be could be easily coloured by the opinions of the observer.

“What is going on?” she asked, cutting her eyes towards Morgan.

Beth’s eyes fluttered open and a world of pain blossomed across her mind like a scarlet flower blooming across her vision – her mind was cluttered enough. Fragmented images of what she had witnessed flashed through her mind like the scattered fragments from a dream blowing around in the storm of pain impossible to grasp onto. To intertwine consciousness in such a manner and have it torn asunder so abruptly had more than an effect on her body – Beth was struggling to realign her mind with the now. Flashes of her life played before her eyes – a young girl of ten, shaking hands covered in blood, a young woman and the feel of a lover’s lips, a new immigrant in a strange land – a series of bad decisions and a raven haired succubus standing before her, fear filling her body –

Then she felt it. Emmaline’s mind against hers, a respectable boundary kept so as not to trigger Beth’s mental defences. The other Witch had done more than she could possibly have known, she had given her a point in the series of experiences that made up Beth Buchanan’s life to return to. Reality once more came into focus. Blearily she sent her own mental link towards the gently probing mind of Emma, establishing a two way connection with the other. “The casters’ connection was broken … old magic …. Shamanism” she mumbled, still trying to regain focus as she sent a stream of memory towards the German witch, containing the events that had transpired when she had joined with the anchor stone – and, she feared, probably some of her peripheral memories from before. “The Guardian is confused,” She continued, feeling normality returning, her eyes flickered to the young girl in front of her, “It’s found a new master … or mistress I should say, if she can manage it.”

She shook her head, she could process the information gathered later, when Morgan’s promised breakfast finally found its way into her stomach. She attempted to stand up, now that her mind and body had finally began working together again.

Yep, this was going to hurt in the morning. Each movement sent a fresh flurry of pain across her body, her back was sticky with blood and her shoulder burned like whore’s rash, to borrow an expression from her father. She looked down, her legs had been lacerated – whether by falling glass or her enemies’ intent it was difficult to remember, “No ….” She managed to say, her throat dry, “I got these jeans on sale!”

Beth’s nostrils flared – they had summoned a devastating nature spirit in the middle of Seattle, desecrated the traditions and legacy of her culture in order to do so. But this …. this was unforgivable. This was affordable fashion.

“Mandy,” She said weakly, trying to get to her feet and stumbling somewhat until she fell back on her knees, resting her hand on the ground. “Remember that self-confidence seminar from Youtube I tagged you in? Well I’m aware that this is something of a personal hurdle for you to jump at some point in your life, but Guardians don’t really go for suggestions, or hints …. Or suggestive comments. It needs commanded, the bond with its caster is broken and it’s confused. Give it a purpose, give it an order!”

Mandy flinched, wishing Beth would really stop this train of conversation—and then quickly redirected the thought, aware that the spirit that was currently under her influence might take it the wrong way.

At least it was still under her influence, despite its growing desire to smite Rob and Jacob. “Stop!” she called, this time out loud—still more plea than order, but an instruction nonetheless. Then, to her two well-intentioned protectors: “And stop throwing things at it!”

She whipped her attention back to the guardian, afraid that any moment she looked away might be the moment it slipped her hold. But the connection between them remained steady—chaotic, because the creature was confused and, as Beth said, accustomed to orders, but still. Steady. Her hands still shook, but now that the connection was made, her head no longer hurt.

For the moment, the creature was hers.

“This isn’t how you do it,” she said quietly. The spirit wouldn’t care, not really; it didn’t think in the way people did. Mandy knew that, but the magic and adrenaline had stirred up old memories, and right now, the guardian was a captive audience. Her voice was soft, echoing an older conversation as she said, “This isn’t how you save the world.”

Silently, she told it, We aren’t going to hurt you. Please don’t hurt us.

To Beth, she admitted, “I don’t know what to do. It doesn’t belong here, but that’s not its fault. Maybe we could just give it better instructions and let it stay.” Because I really don’t know how we would get it anywhere else.

And killing it was out of the question.

Beth’s mind had rapidly recovered – she was now almost fully aware of the world and her place, time and location within it. She suppressed the urge to groan – Mandy sounded apologetic even when she was giving an order. Emma, Beth sent forward, more confident about using the mental link now her mind was in better order, Don’t suppose you could use that magic of yours to increase our odds that this will work, I think we’ll need the help … She inquired as she sent a stream of thought to the German witch detailing her plan for the Guardian Spirit.

Beth fished about her bag – there was considerable debate among those in PHI what exactly was in Beth’s bag. It occasionally gave off strange smells, emitted rattling sounds and once or twice seemed to move a few inches on its own accord. Beth chucked a few things on the ground as she rummaged; a sealed sandwich bag of dried herbs, a small flask, a bottle of horribly murky contents and, as this was also a woman’s handbag, a few packets of chewing gum, some sanitary products and half a granola bar. Eventually she found what she was looking for – a small clay jar, made from the mud of a sacred spring, useful in the containment of numerous spirits and occult nasties.

She forced herself to her feet, her head woozy as she made a few steps towards Mandy before taking the knife in her hands a gently cutting the other girl’s arm, wetting the rim of the jar with a few drops of the girl’s blood.

“Sorry,” Beth murmured, placing it on the ground, “But I think we can send its essence back to its dormant state.” Beth placed her cut hand over the incision she had made on Mandy’s arm, allowing her power to flow into the other girl’s body.

“Repeat after me,” She said – it was technically unnecessary for a spell at this point, yet she doubted Mandy’s force of will would actually overcome the Guardian’s desire to remain and protect. The words would focus Mandy’s willpower and a small amount of magic would bolster the chances of pulling this off.

“The Shaman binds you to her command,
Three times thanks you for vigil blessed,
Yet unwind your roots, vacate this land,
Your duty’s done, return to dormant rest!”

Mandy flinched a second time.

She could sense Beth’s impatience, and she knew the other woman felt it with her often. On another day, it would stir the girl’s insecurities; tonight, it made her irritable, an unfamiliar feeling to have so close to the surface.

The blood now trickling down her arm, slick and sticky to match the stone in her hands, probably did not help.

Beth’s spell was taking over almost before she was ready for it, and a small part of Mandy wanted to rebel—knew that if she didn’t cooperate, the spirit would still be tied to her will. But Mandy’s brain was used to multitasking, to thinking about many things at once, and another part of her remembered what she’d read about guardians and their dismissal. Still another part wondered how much of a kindness it would be, to leave the creature somewhere it did not belong. Even if it did not want to go, it might be better off.

She repeated the spell.

The words were clumsy on her tongue—unnecessarily formal, probably, when it would obey any instruction she gave it, regardless of syntax. But she said them, and beneath the ones she said out loud ran of current of other things she wanted to say: it's okay and thank you and I’m sorry.

And then, at the end of Beth’s pretty quatrain, she murmured, “Sleep well.”

His strong hands cupped her face, calloused fingers running through her auburn hair. Dawn would break soon, ending their time together, perhaps forever. The wrongness of the scene ground in Emmaline’s mind like the gears a seizing clock, strange and alien perspectives only half understood. Like tectonic plates, finally slipping to relieve ancient and unimaginable forces, she slid back into her own mind with a crash. Emotional transference. It was always dangerous to touch the mind of another and that was doubly true with other practitioners. People weren’t as similar on the mental level as science and psychologists might have them believe. She blinked hard trying to clear her mind and focus on what Beth was sending her.

Carefully she stepped away from the car, the bruises and contusions on her back and ribs howled for attention. Adrenaline still coursed through her body and she worked to keep her mind walled off from the aches and pains of the body.

Rob and Jacob still fought with the monster, making quick, stinging attacks with their improvised weapons. Doubtless the pair were the only reason they hadn’t all been torn to bloody rags. In her attuned eyes she could see green and gold tendrils of magical energy trashing around the spirit like the tentacles of some deep sea horror. That was new; a few minutes ago they had been taut bands, binding the spirit to whatever purposes its summoners had imposed. As she watched she saw the tendrils bend, as though against their own will, towards Mandy. In a rush she grasped the meaning of the images Beth had sent her.

Reaching into her pocket she produced a sharpie permanent marker. With the familiar and comforting smell in her nostrils she began to write rapidly on the hood of the car, the only available surface appropriate to the task. With practiced skill she theorized the spell she would need, a series of integrals and mathematical transforms. Try as she could, she was unable to find a solution that was within her optimal parameters. Perhaps if she had time and leisure to rework the Fourier transform… but she had neither time, nor leisure. Licking her dry lips she focused on the numbers, she touched her thumb to a small sharp protrusion on one of her rings. A tiny drop of blood welled up and she took a deep breath. This would be bad.

With a quick thrust she smeared the drop of blood over the hood of the car in a diagonal slash, cutting through the hastily created calculations. The numbers spun in her head as the spell raced along its own internal logic. She felt it take hold, the randomly lashing tendrils of energy bent towards Amanda like grass bending in a gale. The girl would still have to master them but it should at least be possible. She felt the backlash almost immediately. All the negative probabilities she had foreclosed coalesced into a single malign energy. The Hex bloomed into being, seeking a place to land and balance the cosmic scales. She hoped they would all survive it.

"Damn that thing" Robert said as he quickly glanced at the Guardian he was escaping from. The second molotov had missed it's target and merely made a fiery puddle on the ground. Guardian effortlessly passed over it.

"I get the feeling this guy doesn't really care for us," Jacob commented as he drove his car between the Guardian's legs, taking advantage of its confusion for him to begin whipping his car around again- Jacob's car, while faster than a man on foot, didn't have the ability to hit hard corners like cars in video games always seemed to do. Robert held tightly from car's top handle with one hand and molotov with his other, afraid to break the bottle on the turns. "And we're supposed to care enough not to kill this thing. Gah..." He said, while trying to reach on the sunroof.

"Somehow, I'm more concerned about it killing us." Jacob replied as he jerked the car to the left, sending passenger and day-old carryout containers and cigarettes flying in the other direction, his car careening just out of the way of a large fist, as the Guardian pounded the ground where there car was supposed to be. The older car fishtailed as Jacob tried to straighten the vehicle, continuing to drive literal circles around the Guardian.

"Occurred to me too!" Rob said as he got one arm holding molotov out of the sunroof. He got his head most of his chest out as Jacob made his turn. His body pressed against his right arm; A good bruise would be there by midday. "Can you drive closer at it?" He yelled from the roof, looking at the Guardian that they were circling.

"You want me to drive closer?!" Jacob yelled up at him as he shifted to the left, a chunk of asphalt and pavement striking nearby their car, sending splinters of rock and gravel into his windows. Jacob was trying to be a bit more careful with how quickly he jerked them around- especially with Rob sticking his head out the roof. "I don't know if you've noticed, but that thing is throwing rocks at us."

"My throwing arm's not as good as it's! One good... Damnit!" Robert yelled as pieces scrambled on the roof too. He covered the bottle like a proper alcoholic would. Few of the pieces made shallow cuts in his face and his hat flew off from his head. "One good throw and we have it's undivided attention. This car better be faster than that thing!"

"Do we not already have its undivided attention?!" Jacob cursed loudly as he drove his car towards the creature again, intending once again to drive inbetween its legs.

"It's still throwing rocks instead of following us!" Robert yelled. He was little afraid of going underneath the Guardian, but nevertheless he looked at the Guardian's... Eyes if one could call them that, gritted his teeth together and threw the molotov at the thing's chest.
Jacob's heart pumped loudly in his chest as he drove the car inbetween the Guardian's legs once again, the Guardian ready for them this time, its fist narrowly missing the hood of Jacob's car.

"Bloody..." Robert said as he lowered himself down inside the car, panting. "Is it... Following us now?" He said as he grabbed the top handle once again. He had no more molotovs, only some silver bullets.

"I don't know Robert, you tell me!" Jacob replied sarcastically as he watched the Guardian charge after them through his rear view mirror, thankful that cars were faster than spirit, and that the parking lot of a Walmart in the early morning was extremely large, and thankfully extremely empty. The Guardian roared after them, the gutteral roar causing the ground to shutter with its bassy tone.