---

Several feet away, the light from the upper floor joined the streetlights. The shop below was dark and locked up for the night. The building itself was well maintained, the windows clean - the streetside free of trash, a small trough flower bed below the large windows. In the windows, bold and golden words proudly displaying Croll Corner. The open sign was dark, hours of operation printed on the door.

The alleyway beside the shop was lit up as it usually was when someone in the family wasn’t home. Typically, usually for Charlie herself.

Charlie pulled her mask down a long drawn out sigh, “Fair warning, Maddi.”

Turning to Hex, “My family means well, they care a lot and it’s because they care a lot they will want to kill me when I walk through that door. My mom especially, Gramps and Harry will probably watch. Anything you say or I say will be flipped on my head faster than I have a chance to think. She is like a train.”

“Gotta let them get it all out first then they’re way more reasonable after they vent and I may just survive to get to the alchemical formula but it’s really unlikely.” She said honestly. “Just bear with it and I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

She put on a big grin.

She led the way down the alley rounding out to the back alley and backyard of her home. A small fence line separated their property. In the driveway was a small car shelter, open walls - beneath it was a lemon of a vehicle. The backyard opened to open green grass, a shed tucked against the building and a training dummy with stuffing spilling out from it’s midsection and arms. Home to training several Croll’s, not just Harry and Charlie.

The balcony off the second floor was spilling with Nathaniel’s herbal garden, the main garden itself lined the entire fenceline. Blooming in full colour with flowers, next to it was the vegetable garden stems of tomato vines and green beans grew. Gramp’s pride and joy was his garden and it sprung from everywhere. He loved to take care of it and everyone in the family helped maintain it.

On the steps up to the backdoor stood in the imposing figure of Julianne Croll, her staff in her right hand and a left fist clenched. An angry scowl on her face, ashen blonde hair tied in a bun. Charlie froze on the spot seeing her mother. She removed her hood and goggles. Swallowing hard.

“H-Hey mom.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m okay.” Holding her staff.

“What happened to your injuries from this morning?”

Answering quickly, “Puck healed them.” She winced at her mom’s reaction.

Julianne threw her head back in a long groan, through clenched teeth she gestured to Lady Hex. “Who is that?”

Hex removed the glamour charm around her neck and stepped closer, allowing electric light to illuminate more familiar features, waving her scarlet-gloved fingers at Julianne.

”Madalena Hawthorne,” Maddi introduced herself with far more enthusiasm than either Charlie or Julianne seemed ready to receive.

”Proprietress of The Shadow of the Moon in Chinatown - I’ve seen your car pull in a few times - and employed under Robin Goodfellow of The Red Devil as Lady Hex. The secret moniker isn’t some sort of formality, more a necessity given the work I’ve been doing on Puck’s behalf . . .”

Madalena stopped herself, warmly offering her hand to Julianne.

”Anyway, you can just call me Madalena, or Maddi; no preference.”

Jules switched her staff over to her opposite hand, shaking Maddi’s. “My name is Jules, it would be very nice to meet you outside this scene I’m about to cause.” Charlie audibly groaned.

“Head on inside and introduce yourself to my dad, Nathaniel - he’ll get you a nice cup of tea.” She stepped aside letting Maddi inside turning her attention right back to Charlie.

“Staff up young lady! You and I aren’t done here.” Jules ordered.

Charlie brought up her staff obediently, “I’m okay if we just yell at eachother-”

“Not tonight, beating some sense into you seems to be the only way!”

Charlie blocked her mother’s first blow, staff bending under the unyielding weight of her mother’s tungsten staff. Knowing clacks and meeting of staffs continued, Jules snapping questions with each hit.

Nathaniel was just down the hallway ushering at Maddi to come inside, he lead her up the stairs into the kitchen. “Now don’t worry for those two, they only really fight like this over the serious stuff. Come please have a seat while we wait for them to duke it out.”

The kitchen was small but stocked, herbs hung at the window above the sink drying. The oven bubbled with the kettle on the element, mugs set aside with wire cages stuffed with loose tea leaves. It was warm, cozy and another of Nathaniel’s well kept work spaces.

With his back turned he hummed through jars of leaves, labeled accordingly. “If I heard that right you’re employed by our good deal maker Puck? He’s a slick one but honorable. A fair few of alchemists I know like to visit the Red Devil for a drink. Thought about taking Harry over there for her twenty first birthday.” He continued, his voice warm and hospitable in spite of his own itch to take out his ire on Charlie as well, making everyone worry for the second time this week.

He shuffled over to the kettle as it began to whistle. “You’ll have to excuse my rambling ways, will talk and lecture to anyone who listens.” He chuckled. “What sort of tea would you like my dear? We have the whole assortment.”

”Earl Grey,” Madalena didn’t hesitate. ”Sorry, was that too eager? I’m just really partial to earl grey; love bergamot.”

Maddi turned back to peer down the hall for a moment before taking a seat in the kitchen, placing her cane gently on the table.

”And I know how moms and daughters can be. My mom had an art studio and a kiln in our garage which, now that I think about it, that was probably a fire hazard . . . anyway, she would always make an excess of ceramics that we’d end up throwing on the floor and smashing when we got upset with each other.”

She chuckled, pulling back her hood and letting out a deep sigh, sinking into her chair.

“Earl Grey! Excellent taste.” He said knowingly reaching for the jar.

“I remember one of my sons having a passing interest in pottery when he was a teenager. He thought it’d be the easiest way to get dates but took genuine interest when he got the hang of it.” He said with a smile, remembering fondly.

He poured the water and set an egg timer for steeping, setting the saucer in front of Maddi and taking the seat across from her. “Firstly I would like to thank you for helping my granddaughter stay alive tonight. We take such actions quite seriously here, if there’s anyway we can repay you please don’t hesitate to call in a favour from me or any Croll you may meet in the future. Everyone one of my children and grandchildren are moderately skilled alchemists.”

“That being said, I truly hope this is the last of the dangerous encounters with the Hounds of Humanity. If Puck is involved I fear he has knowingly roped Charlie into whatever he has planned.” He scratched at his beard thoughtfully. “Did she sign any contracts or agree to anything officially?”

Nathaniel regarded Maddi with concern, “I know in my heart of hearts we can’t stop Charlie from helping where she feels she is needed but this family has already lost one to Lost Haven’s larger than life affairs.”

Madalena shook her head.

”Don’t worry, Charlie hasn’t signed anything or formally agreed to any of Puck’s schemes . . . but she is involved.”

Maddi leaned closer, instinctually speaking in a softer voice.

”Has she told you about the Witchfinder General and The Winter Court?”

“Briefly, after she helped clean up your shop. The name rings a bell, The Winter Court. Were they connected to the Hounds?” Nathaniel asked leaning forward as well cradling his chin in his hands.

”In a sense,” Maddi replied, pulling out the folder on the General and showing Nathan the Court’s crest on the inside cover.

”The short of it is that the Court is an old order of witch hunters with all kinds of magical weapons they used centuries ago. The General somehow found surviving records of how to make these weapons, used the Hounds resources to rebuild a small sect of the Court, and has been expanding ever since. Puck had me act as an informant to the Court to gain their trust while he worked on a plan to take him and the Court down.”

Shuffling in her seat, Madalena removed the leather-bound journal from her waist and placed it in front of Nathaniel, opening it to the section she and Charlie had reviewed earlier.

”And there might actually be a way you can pay back that favor.” Madalena smiled.

”Charlie said she recognized some of these formulas as yours. I’m not entirely sure what this journal is leading us to, but I’m assuming it’s part of Puck’s plan.”

He looked down at the journal reading it quickly, “Yes they are mine and written in my hand. Secrets only known to me to keep something important under lock and key, paid to do so actually by Puck.”

He hummed wrapping his lightly callused hands around the mug, frowning, “I would certainly like to repay you Ms Hawthorne but I crafted this formula specifically not to be cracked. I was paid to do as such by Puck himself. You understand my hesitation-”

Chuckles interrupted Nathaniel, a smile returned at the sight of Julianne and Charlene. They had their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. Harriet behind them, standing on the tips of her toes trying to see through the kitchen of their visitor.

They looked no worse for wear, clothes haphazard, grass stains, dirt on chins. Nathaniel felt instantly nostalgic picturing easily the pair of them as children once again. Charlie went straight for the kettle pouring a cup of tea for herself, Jules and Harry. Knowingly reaching for their favourite tea leaves. Her knuckles scraped and a little battered. Handing off the cups, Charlie took a seat beside Maddi with a large sigh.

She reached across the table and Nathaniel opened his hand for her to hold. “I’m sorry Gramps for making you worry. We’re in for some hard times, everything I’m doing is to protect our family.” She said, he squeezed her hands - listening. “The Hounds were wiped out tonight but it’s the Winter Court we’re looking out for now. A powerful necromancer skulking around in Lost Haven, it’s a shit show and it’s going to be on our doorstep. It’s taken me six years of university to try and figure out what the hell I want to do. I still don’t know but I know that I can protect us.”

Nathaniel gazed at Charlie, his eyes shifted up to Jules who leaned against the wall with her cup of tea. She nodded, affirming what he already knew. There was no turning Charlie away nor protecting her from the consequences. She’d surely learn all that on her own.

“Okay, Charlie.” He said after a few moments. “Okay, apology accepted.” He stood from his seat leaning across the table to kiss her on the forehead. Nothing more to be said, easily forgiven.

Charlie smiled sitting back and looking down at the journal in front of Maddi.

“I was saying to Ms Hawthorne about the journal she has, if I were to be given consent from Puck himself to give you the keys then, well then I can do just that.” He said tapping the page with his index finger, the formula glowing briefly reacting to his presence. “What gave it away, Char?”

She laughed, “Your tin and zinc! It’s like, your calling card.”

Momentarily embarrassed he leaned back with a laugh, “Ahhh, such a terrible habit.”

Madalena observed the quaint little moment, the closeness of family. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in months, much too busy. Maybe she should give her a call?

”No offense, Mr. Croll,” Maddi finally spoke up, ”but I don’t think we need Puck’s express permission, mainly because we both know he won’t give it. You know how he is. I’d argue that us even having the journal is his weird stamp of approval. Why else would he hand it over if not for us to solve?”

He pursed his lips, she had a point. He stared down at the journal and hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps I can. I’ll give you the key to solve the formula.”

Charlie pumped her fist and a resounding ‘yess’ under her breath. “So what’s the solution Gramps-”

“Ah - ah. Not so fast, kiddo.” He tutted. “I said the key, not the solution. You have to figure it out on your own.”

Her smile disappeared, “Gramps come on, this is important.”

He nodded sipping his tea. “Yes I am aware, it’s also important to challenge you Charlie. Jules and I would be poor mentors if we gave the answers to all the questions.”

She groaned leaning back in her chair, huffing stray hair off her face.

“I thought we were getting on more to ‘peers’ than student at this point.”

Gramps shrugged, “Not yet, Charlie. You’ve got a ways to go.”

“So what’s the key to the formula?” She asked, relenting quicker than usual, guilt reigning in her impulse to argue.

He stroked his beard, then grinned laying his hand flat against the journal, “You’re going to hate this Charlie.” He said in singsong, he laid his hand across the pages of formulae. The pages began to lift and change, unbeknownst to Charlie within the fibres of the pages were lined with a variety of elements - not just tin and zinc. Nathaniel took great pleasure in simpler things for his alchemy, hiding answers in plain sight. With the tip of his finger he drew it out across the top of each symbol, the overall image drew to be an actual shape of a key across the various pages. He removed his hand, the pages folded in on itself right before their eyes.

Taking shape of an antique key, sporting a bright gold sheen.

Charlie groaned, “Gramps you’re killing me here with this.”

He grinned again, big and toothy.

“So what’s there to figure out?” She asked next.

“Balance it, kiddo. That’s it.” He said, holding the key out for her to take. “When it sits perfectly on the tip of your finger, not leaning one way or another it’ll be ready to open up.”

Charlie felt confident momentarily but when she took the key, it weighed heavier than a brick. “‘That’s it’, hmph.” She said turning it over in her hands, already playing with the weight a bit accidently making it heavier before changing it back and the key increased in weight once more. “What the fuck-”

“It’s a very sensitive set up, can’t go messing with certain elements without affecting a great deal of others.” Nathaniel tutted and giving a wink. “Good luck.”

Corporal Roger Anderson was walking his beat through one of the dirtier, but safer, sections of low town. He liked his job, especially on nights like this one. He would bust a few people, make some waves, and start his rise up through the ranks. One of these days. For now, his rather ample belly and thinning blonde hair did not endear him to his higher ups in terms of physical fitness, but he did receive glowing commendations on attention to detail and honesty, things found in short supply these days.

Ever since the metahumans had defeated the Hounds of Humanity, the town had settled down only a little. The number of officers killed or retired by action, and the ones who had transferred to safer cities, had left the force notably thinned. And with the foreign gangs like the Yakuza and those weird ones with the flowers still active, the city was still a tinderbox. Quieter beats like this one, down near the point of the city, were hard to find, and he was more than thankfully for the break.

Near one in the morning, by his shiny little gold watch, he heard the shouts and thumps of a street fight of some sort down an alley off of Faraday Street and Nolton Avenue. He radioed in and approached cautiously. Several officers had reported grisly murders and partial rumours of cannibalism in this area, so he pulled his gun out, thumbed off the safety, and Proceeded With Caution, by the book. Nothing in the book could have prepared him for the sight he was presented with coming around a bend in the alley.

A street child of dark hair and complexion bolted past him, screaming about drug dealers and death, and when the police officer glanced back towards the commotion, he saw why. The remains of a thin man in a ragged coat and knit cap were crumpled against a rough brick wall opposite him, in a spreading pool of blood from what he had to assume was a knife wound. Another corpse was splayed face down across a dumpster lid, twitching. There were bloodstains everywhere, and the single lightbulb over a door into the building above him was flickering. The shadows were everywhere, so he switched on his flashlight and moved to check the pulse of the first body. No pulse. He turned to the second and had to fight down an urge to vomit, which he failed to do.

The man on the dumpster was missing everything below the sternum, and it seemed to be spread across the alley for several yards. After catching his breath and retching once more, Anderson panned the beam of his flashlight across the darkened alley. Nothing but a couple of trashbags and an old mop head, all covered in blood. He clicked his radio on. "Dispatch, this is Badge 3290, over."
The voice came crackling back. "Go ahead, 3290".

"I have a multiple homicide at...34671 East Nolton, request backup and coroner, over."

"Roger that, 3290. Back up en route. Seven minutes, over."

"Roger that. Tell them to bring the K9 unit. 3290 o-"

The bags had moved. He was sure of it. He levelled his gun at them. "Come out with your hands where I can see them!" he shouted.

Not only did the bags shift. They slid, and his mind screamed at him that what he was seeing could not possibly be real. The 'old mop head' was actually a real head of black, wavy hair, matted with blood. Attached to a woman, really pretty except for the blood, wearing...nothing? But right where her body should be splitting into legs, and really just below her navel, his mind did not want to comprehend. The 'trash bags' had been the coils of a massive snake. At first glance he thought she was being eaten, but then his brain finally caught up with the situation, and he saw that they were one and the same. And, strangest of all, she was staring at him with those green eyes, with her hands in the air, a questioning look on her face as her eyes dropped to the gun. "Fuck!" Anderson shouted. "Dispatch, send the fucking army! It's some sort of-" There were nothing but screams and one single shot from his gun over the radio. The only thing Anderson's backup found were three bodies instead of four, and a reason to have a funeral in the next few days.

---

Berenice swept along the dawn breeze, riding high up over the wispy mists that were still clinging to the city and settling in for a glide over her new nest area. Parts of her brain were, even after a month, getting used to sharing with so many people, but at least she knew better than to sing except when she was alone. She did so now, letting a tune rip away into the winds as she passed high over the University, before wheeling back around and heading for her home.

Coming in for a landing, she gripped tightly onto the wooden rails built specifically for her to land on, the hopped down and crossed the short little plaza and over to her nest, which now was a fully fledged thing, packed with straw, warm cloth, and covered by a heavy tarpaulin that kept everything from getting mouldy. The entire nook was festooned with wind chimes, bits of wire twisted into shapes, several mirrors, and bits of bones delicately carved by the Clan for her. The area directly behind her corner was a little halfwall, where she might have looked out over the street below, except that it was now covered in a riot of greenery growing in soil she had carted up herself. Things that Carrie had said weren't even supposed to grow here were thriving, many of them tropical and several fruit bearing.

In fact, excepting the tiny plaza and building the Clan lived in, the entire flat area of the roof was given over to greenery, all carefully hidden by spells so they wouldn't get in trouble. Her favourite was the banana tree, which Carrie had just shook her head at and gone downstairs saying something about a headache. Most of its root structure, with so many other, grew down the corner of the building, covered in symbiotic ivy that hid it from view. This gave the Clan their highway down to forage in the city.

They had brought up sticks, mud, and other materials with her help and had built a village next to her nest, with a tiny mosaic plaza for meeting and weapons practise. A large wooden tub behind that held their water supply. The village was now capable of making metal tools, and were slowly growing as the children grew. At this point it was nearly thirty structures, all several floors tall, which came up to around Berenice's knee joints when she went past. Also present was a windmill, and a little thing that they had said contained the best of everything, but it wasn't ready yet. She just nodded and let them alone. While part of the Clan, she was too big to be a part of any of the ceremonies so far, though Sunheart had informed her many new ceremonies were necessary due to their new lifestyle.

Berenice settled down into her nest, watching the tiny children play in the soil near the raspberry bush. Sunheart climbed up next to her from her hut, built into the base of the nest, and settled down on her forearm as she leaned forward. They sat like that for long enough that the sun had risen beyond the siren's field of vision before she bestirred herself. Sunheart climbed up into the “saddle” on her belt, a small padded pouch with some travelling gear stored in it, and then Berenice made her way over to the banana tree, hopping and flapping once to reach one of the bunches and pluck two off of it before falling back down. She unwrapped one and ate it in just a few bites, bringing the other one over and setting it down next to the plaza, where several men ran over to begin cutting it down for their meals.

This is nice, Sunheart,” she said, staring around. Her feather ruffed slightly. ”And I have gotten lots of practise. But Sebastian has not come after us yet. Why?”

Her little companion shrugged from her perch on the belt. ”I do not know, Skysong. Perhaps he has killed himself with foolish magic.”

”I think that would be too easy. The car tunes always have the bad man come back every time. I do not think we should relax too much.”

”Well, we will keep practicing, then, and meet whatever comes with ready hearts and sharpened spears.”

Berenice nodded, and hop-skipped her way to her little launching pad. It was time to head to the woods for practise time. She would practise here, but Carrie had warned that her magic was too powerful to be near innocent people, so she had to practise out in the woods. And today, she was going to see if she could get Charlie on the phone by herself, afterwards!

Elizabeth Miyasaki
Private Jet
Afternoon

---

The attendant brought over Elizabeth's favorite bottle of wine, Claire de Lune, she always did enjoy white wine. Giving a polite thank you to the attendant, Elizabeth brought the glass up to her lips, swirling it for a moment before taking a light sip. A pleasant sigh leaves her lips, placing the glass down on the table in front of her as she reclines her chair back slightly to get a view of the outside. Well... her view was mostly saw clouds at this altitude, but hopefully that would change once they got close to her destination. Having to fly across all of america was bothersome, her American headquarters was currently under construction in Seattle, a lovely little city it was. Wasn't too long of a flight from Tokyo and they just have lovely sea food. From what she's heard, Maine has excellent sea food too. ...Lobster was famous there, she thought? Now that she thought about it, she should visit Maryland one day... Crabs always were here favorite sea food.

Ah, it appeared that they were close. The plane was beginning to drop in altitude, pretty soon they'd breath through th- There we go... Lost Haven looks very nice from up here! At a distance it does, at least. She saw the pictures of the city after the terrorist attack, it's honestly surprising they managed to get the airport up and running in what... a month? From what she's heard, the town was still in a degree of martial law, so her plans would have to... hold for a moment. But that wouldn't mean she couldn't start preparing. From what she's noticed, real estate was fairly cheap in the city, most likely from the large super presence there. Most normal people didn't want to live in areas where capes were constantly slugging it out in the middle of the road. Which is how she purchased a nice condo and and a somewhat damaged warehouse for... very cheap. And since the warehouse was damaged, no one would question the large amount of construction there. After all, she was making some... changes.

---

Well, the airport looks much batter than she imagined, it looked much better from the inside than it did the outside, certainly. Now that she thought about it, they most likely didn't fight in the airport, so that would probably explain things. She didn't have any luggage, so it was a quick trip through the airport and to the awaiting limousine. She had plans to visit her newly bought condo later, what was on her mind was her new warehouse, of which she's had under construction ever since she bought it a month ago. Now, Lost Haven was a highly dense cape area, a perfect place for this... "outpost". She'd have several of these across the world if her test run here proved successful, but she shouldn't plan that far until this worked, afterall from what she researched about the capes in this city, it would certainly not be easy.

After tipping the nice man that had been driving, she stepped out of the car to set her sights on the newly remodeled warehouse. Looked sturdy, hopefully enough to last a while in this city. Though, from her specifications, the places that weren't to the public eye would be a lot sturdier. Walking in the door, she could see the remains of scaffolding on the inside, the lights and other features that weren't needed for the structure to stand were still in the middle of being set up, but she didn't need that. What she was looking for should be... here. Pushing a button in a conveniently hidden spot, revealing a staircase to a lower room. What she told was a "panic room" to the construction workers, was actually going to be her future secret workshop, lab, and storage center. Speaking of which, there should be a nice package for her...

Opening the crate, she smiled at her magnum opus. Created by a number of devices, blueprints, patents, and even theories all of which were both legally and illegally obtained. This power suit was going to make her rival other supers. Now, while she wasn't the first person to ever become a tin can, nor is she the first to steal from others and incorporate in their own design, but... she knows she still has a slight edge over the others. Placing her hand against the chest piece, the suit quickly lit up, the software inside booting up for it's user. Picking it up and placing it on her own chest, the suit began to unfold, wrapping around her body as the suit unwound and connected to itself, armoring her in mere moments. Everything seemed to be in order, she's tested it enough that she knows everything should work, however it was nev- Her thoughts were sent to the back of her mind when something flashed in the corner of her visor, her HUD was alerting her to a hero conflict. Apparently two giants were sighted in Lost Haven, with one leaving and the other one still in the city, only flying above it. Well... this makes things interesting.

"A bit sooner then expected, but I welcome it all the same."

It had been a month since the reign of terror that Hounds of Humanity had caused had been curbed and stopped. Things were starting to go back to normal, or at least as normal as things can be after such a crisis. Although the Hounds would resurface every once in a while, like the cockroaches they were, they no longer were so great of a threat that they threatened entire cities anymore. Nothing that the local heroes couldn’t handle.

I was just climbing up the wooden flight of stairs that lead to my apartment when I heard my phone ring from within my purse. After shuffling through the contents of my purse, I finally found my phone and retrieved it. The caller ID on my phone identified Will as the caller. He promised he would fly in and see me after he had visited his family for the 4th of July. I bet he was calling to let me know when his flight would come in.

“Hey, Will. What’s up?”

“Just making sure you don’t forget me,” Will told me over the line. “I don’t want to be stuck at the airport at 1 o’clock in the morning.”

“Why in the world would you book a flight at such an ungodly hour like that?”

“It was one of the cheaper options,” Will explained his choice of flight.

“I’m just messing with you. I’ll be there,” I told Will. “But I’m going to need a quick power nap in the meantime. Today was a long day.”

“You want to talk about it?” Will asked me about my day. I sighed before continuing.

“Management is already planning for the August pinups and they wanted a sports theme. After the couple hours the other models wasted arguing over who should get what, I wanted to bash my head against the wall. Half of them were all cheerleaders and dancers in high school, while the rest of them were too busy prepping for modelling or acting careers.”

“So what did you do?”

“All I can say is thank God Emily thought outside of the box. She volunteered to dress as a team physician. I then withdrew my name from the race for cheerleader and settled with softball, as I actually played the sport while I was still in school.”

“Please don’t tell me Whitney won the cheerleader sweepstakes.”

“You know she obviously did,” I told Will with a sigh, shaking my head, even though I knew that he could not see me. “I still have a headache from hearing her voice.”

“Well, at least you’re home now and you’ll be spending the week with me and not her, so that’s a plus.”

“Thank God!”

After we had finished small more small talk, we said our goodbyes, at least until we would see each other in a few hours. Once we had hung up, I headed straight towards my bedroom, where I changed into something I could nap in for a while. I pulled out a pair of athletic shorts and an oversized, grey t-shirt that Will’s parents bought for him, thinking he would grow into it, but he never did. On the front of the shirt, the text, “2008 NFC Conference Champions” printed, along with the red head of a Cardinal. I really wished the Cardinals would have won that Super Bowl. Nothing would have pleased me more than see the Steelers lose in the biggest game of the year.

Beside I slipped under the covers, I switched out the bra I had been wearing all day for my sleeping bra. Before I became a superhero, I could head to bed without one, but now that I was in the big leagues, I can’t feel comfortable at night without one. I know, it really sucks, but that’s life for you. I then set an alarm on my phone to go off in a few hours, so I could get up and pick Will up from the airport. Now that the alarm had been set, I slipped my phone into one of the cups of my bra. Shutting off the lights and reclining on my bed, I tried to catch a few winks before I had to wake up again.

---

The steel elevator doors slide open before Aubrey stepped inside. Her five-inch stiletto heels clicked against the floor with each step. Once the doors retracted again, Aubrey pressed the “5” button on the elevator’s control panel. She had just finished a long day’s shift at the Lotus and was just returning home. Since Aubrey had been working at the Lotus for a couple years now, she wasn’t self-conscious about wearing her “work” clothes home. Working at the Lotus paid well that she was able to comfortably afford a nice car, so she did not have to walk to the bus stop at the twilight hours anymore. Plus, because she was a superhero, Aubrey could handle herself.

After the elevator’s quick ascent, Aubrey stepped out and headed to her apartment’s door. When she was a few feet away from her front door, she pulled out her phone from her purse that was slung over her shoulder. At first glance, the cell phone had the appearance of any other smart phone. However, when she pressed the side power button, a few holographic displays appeared from the phone’s touchscreen.

“Could you unlock the door, Athena?” Aubrey said to her phone in a way someone today would talk to Cortana or Siri. In a matter of seconds, the sound of the door’s lock clicked, signaling that it was now unlocked.

The first thing Aubrey did once she entered her apartment was to kick of her high-heels. The next thing on her to-do list was to change into something more comfortable. Before slipping out of her dress, she picked out an oversized, gray-colored t-shirt that belonged to Will. On the front of the shirt was printed “Super Bowl XLIII Champions: Arizona Cardinals,” along with that team’s Cardinal logo.

Once Aubrey had changed, she deactivated her power nullifier, changing her lower body back to its normal drider appearance. She sprawled herself on her coach and started to channel surf until her phone spoke up.

<I recommend you review the changes made to your costume due to your new sponsorships>

Because her superheroics would often cause Aubrey to miss many hours at work, all at unpredictable times, she had to supplement her income with corporate sponsorships. Sure, when she would make it to work, Aubrey would make a pretty penny. But that would also mean that she was leaving a lot of money on the table whenever her superhero career took precedence.

“Ugh, why? Do I really need to look over a few patches that were added and removed from my jacket?”

<The contract with Victoria’s Secret does not require you to show off their product. Perhaps we should reconsider the gaping hole on the front of your costume,>

“We already had this discussion. Adding a bit of spandex isn’t going to do me any more good than leaving some skin bare, especially when my healing factor will just spit out any bullets that hit me, no matter if it hits my skin or costume. Plus, I’ve gotten fond of the spider shape over the years.”

<I request that you at least try on your costume to see if I fits.>

“I don’t know, I think I’m ready to hit the sack,” Aubrey told her AI assistant with a very fake yawn. She just rolled of her couch and headed towards her bedroom, just ignoring Athena’s requests. “Just make sure my costume is linked up with my power nullifier’s costume quick switch function.”

<Updates in progress. Do you wish me to alert you when I am finished.>

“Remind me when I wake up. But not right when you’re finished. I’ll be sleeping. Otherwise I’ll chuck you out of the window.”

<Understood. See you in the morning.>

Time: Afternoon - Day after leaving Salem
Location: Manhattan - NY

---

Marie waved to Odette as she departed, vanishing into a crowd of patrons and testy tourists packing into Central Park by the dozens. The ride through Manhattan to Central was quick enough, made shorter by smalltalk between the two about the previous night’s processions. Marie was happy to have shared a Sabbath dance with Odette, a needed break in their search for Gwyneth’s artifacts. She couldn’t help but wonder how their conversation prior to the rite affected Odette’s mentality. Had Marie’s words spurned Odette enough to loosen up, or was she putting on airs? Whatever the cause, it was a nice shift in perspective, and one that would make their time together more amiable.

Their passage from Salem to Manhattan was blessed by Maryann and her witches, who were kind enough to offer the pair a car and driver for as long as they were in New York. Marie wasn’t sure if the driver was a member of the Essex Wyrd given the unfortunate job of chauffeur, or if he was a local compelled to cart around whomever Maryann wished. Either way, Marie was grateful, doubly so, in fact. As she looked down into the small, velvet pouch filled with the Witch Mother’s tokens, she was pleased to see the number significantly reduced. Victoria South offered to take the tokens meant for the witches in Virginia and New Orleans. She was apparently rather close to a number of women among those covens. Meanwhile, Maryann offered to take the tokens meant for Andover, scheduling a meeting with the coven there to relay certain information from their ritual. It seemed that Marie continued to stumble upon gifts; perhaps it was a sign that her story was nearing a satisfactory end.

The car pulled into a local coffee shop a few blocks from Central Park, taking the corner seat in a row of sky rises. Marie picked the location from memory, recalling one of Puck’s maps in his study marking locations where magical folk often convened. It was difficult for practitioners and other beings to find strongholds within the city, and those that existed were hidden in plain sight. This one was marked with a familiar sign, the “Witches Foot,” a runic marking that delineated a meeting place for witches in medieval Europe. Other practitioners likely met there, of course; all the old markings were largely assimilated and used interchangeably among differing practices.

Marie stepped out the car, pulling at the hem of her red sundress, a bold color for her, to assure it fell well below the knee. Her raven hair was pulled all the one side, falling over her shoulder in thick waves that nearly traveled to her stomach. She was surprised that Odette hadn’t commented on her outfit that morning.

Removing her wallet and her formulary from her bag in the trunk, Marie motioned to the driver, who offered an agitated wave, then stepped inside the coffee shop to pass the time before meeting with the Hudson Valley Wyrd.

Holt followed invisibly, weaving around speeding pedestrians to amuse himself.

The cafe, aptly name “Pure Alchemy,” was decorated with a mix of modern French accents and medieval artistry. The chairs and tables looked expensive, but hanging lights and floor lamps like candelabras felt pleasingly rustic. There were no coffee machines at the main counter as one would expect, only decorative table toppers, tiny treats, and handmade trinkets consigned by local artists, some of which were likely enchanted. An assortment of fresh baked goods lined shelves behind a thick slab of glass, all fully in stock, and some frosted or baked in vaguely occult designs.

Marie ordered a green tea sweetened with honey and a pain au chocolat, then seated herself at a small booth under a window overlooking the street. She checked to see if her car was still parked, wondering if the driver would stay. Surprisingly, he was still in the driver’s seat, although he had produced a foot-long sub from somewhere.

Marie sipped her tea and thumbed through the formulary. This was the first chance she’d had since her parent’s house to actually read it, well, assuming she could translate old Welsh and obscure Fey dialects.

Granddaughter of Queen Mab, Holt broke Marie’s mental silence, jumping atop the table as an ethereal feline, Quite the surprise. This changes things, you understand. The Ambassador will be more meddlesome now that she knows.

We can trust her, Marie responded, looking up from her book, And of the two of us, she knows more about the Fey. She’ll know what this means and how to move forward. And if she doesn’t, Puck will.

Perhaps, but your ancestry is uncommon. As rare as faerie-borne witches are in the present, there are none born of Fey nobility. You need to carefully assess any request she makes of you, lest you fall prey to her assumed expertise.

Marie nodded, turning to survey the cafe and its patrons.

Her motives are still a mystery, but I don’t think she’s a threat, not anymore. Even if she only cares about my connection to Mab, at least we’re on the same side. That’s enough for now.

Holt remained still, cautious, as if to show disapproval, but his quiet response was either lost or ignored.

Could you go ahead of us? Marie issued the mental command, let the Hudson Valley Wyrd know we’ll be arriving later today. I’d like to avoid another fiasco like our entrance to Salem.

Holt nodded, disappearing from sight.

Marie tried to read her formulary, but she couldn’t help but tune in to the conversation in the room. It was a mix of magic and mundane, but a common name kept popping up in hushed tones: “The Winter Court”

”Why are they talking about the Unseelie?” Marie wondered aloud, unable to discern anything else from the drum of chatter in the room.

”My dear,” a familiar voice echoed in her mind, ”they are referencing an altogether different foe, not that the Unseelie are foes, mind you; I walked among them briefly before dear William caught me in the company of Oberon, but a different story for a different time.”

Marie shivered as she saw Puck strolling into the cafe, dressed in his dark suit, long, black claws straightening his tie, ashen antlers almost scraping the ceiling.

”Bold of you to show up like this in broad daylight.” Marie teased with a hint of misplaced concern. No one seemed to notice Puck’s presence, or if they did, they just didn’t care.

”Fret not, love, only you can see my most striking features. To everyone else here, I am but another patron of Pure Alchemy. A good choice, by the way. I am glad you remembered. Puck seated himself opposite Marie, folding his hands and placing them on the table, leaning slightly forward.

”Which begs the questions, why are you here, Puck? The Ambassador and I were on our way to yo-”

”Were you?” Puck interrupted, ”I had no idea. Here I thought you had abandoned your station at The Red Devil to pursue your destiny, or one of them, at least.”

Marie shook her head, leaning forward to match Puck’s gaze.

”Don’t try to guilt-trip me. You were the one who waved my contract in favor of my discovery of Gwyneth, which you also kept from me for over a year. I haven’t abandoned The Red Devil, I’ve been busy.”

Puck grinned.

”Do not mistake my intent, Marie. I was happy to see you off on your grand mission. In fact, your leaving was rather fortuitous for the both of us. In your absence, I entered into a pact with a fresh-faced young witch, one I’m excited for you to meet. One of the first witches I’ve sired in years; I’ve rather missed it.”

Marie rolled her eyes and leaned back into the booth, crossing her arms.

”So you came to gloat?”

Puck chuckled, mirroring Marie’s movements.

”I see the Ambassador has made you more testy. No, I did not come to gloat, my newest pupil is still years behind you in terms of experience. Nor did I come to discuss yours and the Ambassador’s progress, which I assume is the reason you were coming to me? By all means, reconvene with her and make your way to my door in the Hudson Valley.”

”Then why-”

”I came to issue a warning about The Winter Court. You can ask your familiar for more information regarding their history, but they are a faction of witch-hunters thought long dead. With the rise of the Hounds of Humanity, they were allowed to regain a foothold in the New World. This incarnation relied quite extensively on the resources of the Hounds, but do not be fooled, they will continue to grow like a fetid mass of putrid pustules. This new witch I have consigned will head my efforts in eternally ridding this world of their foul presence. I do not expect you to deviate from your current goal, but you should be aware that as your power grows, you become a target for them. And if they learn of your history, your lineage, they will stop at nothing to assure your failure.”

Marie shifted in her seat, rage pooling in her eyes. The Hounds had been dealt with, she’d escaped one pursuer, and now another had risen to take their place. Was there no end to the suffering she would be made to endure? But there was something in Puck’s speech that ate at her, redirecting her emotions, funneling them into a question.

”My lineage,” she whispered, ”have you known this entire time? Did you know that Gwyneth was Mab’s granddaughter?”

Puck’s eyes softened, a rare sight. He leaned forward again, placing both hands on the table.

”Contrary to what you and others might be lead to believe, I am not all knowing. Much of Gwyneth’s past was obscured to me prior to my meeting with the Ambassador. It was only then I pieced together her ties to the Otherworld, long after you had departed from The Red Devil. I knew you would eventually discover this for yourself; I saw no reason to interfere.”

Marie didn’t know if she should believe Puck, but something in his eyes, a subtle glisten behind black irises, told her he was telling the truth. Marie sighed, exhaling worry, relaxing her shoulders and posturing herself lower in the booth, head resting on the hardwood.

”I will inform the Ambassador,” Marie responded with a strange formality, ”but there’s something else I need from you.”

Puck nodded, moving his hands in such a way that told Marie to speak freely.

”Am I your niece?”

”Ah,” Puck said, standing from the booth and brushing down his pants and jacket. ”An interesting question. You will have your answer in due time. First, meet with the Hudson Valley Wyrd, then find me at The Red Devil. I eagerly await your arrival. Farewell.”

Puck bowed, disappearing from sight.

Marie finished her tea, scarfed down her pastry, then gathered her belongings and hurried back to the car, phone in hand. She dialed Odette’s number.

”Hey, I ran into Puck while I was in town; he came to deliver a vague warning, I’ll fill you in soon. I sent Holt ahead of us to the Hudson Valley, we shouldn’t have any trouble contacting the coven there. I’m heading over to Central now, see you in a bit.”

Marie instructed the driver to return to Central Park. After sitting in traffic for twenty minutes, they arrived at their original drop off location, parked and waiting for the Ambassador and her Golem companion.

Scott locked eyes with the man who had been pursuing the girls, and that was when he knew that this man was far more than he seemed. The man only stood about six feet tall, and if he had to guess, Scott would say that he weighed about one hundred and eighty pounds. Yet, there was something about this man who made him seem far more imposing than his physical stature would suggest. The man was sharply dressed in a designer suit and wore a white glove on his right hand. He had sharp features, though they were mostly hidden behind a short, scruffy beard. However, there was something strange about this man, something almost inhuman about him. And then, Scott realized what it was.

His eyes.

They were not the eyes of a man. There was no sclera, there were no pupils. The man’s eyes were empty, silver voids with a thin black outline that were where his pupils should be. But as he looked closer, he noticed that the thin black line swirled in the man’s eyes, almost as if there were a storm raging within.

“Come, now!” the older of the two girls called to him, grabbing his arm and pulling him with her as she began to run. “He’s seen you with us, you’re not safe!” She told him as the girls lead him into the crowd. They raced down the crowded street, taking a number of turns down side streets which lead back to other crowded streets, until they were sure that they had shaken their pursuers.

“Who were those guys, and what did they want with you?” Scott asked once he was sure they were in the clear. Scott could almost sense their hesitation as neither girl said anything for a long moment.

“It’s better if you don’t know.” The older of the two girls finally said in surprisingly perfect English.

“I’m involved in this now, I should at least know what I’m up against.” Scott told her.

“You got yourself involved. You should have stayed away. Américain stupide.”

“Be that as it may, I’m involved. So again, who were those people, and what do they want with you?” Scott replied.

“Fine, but not here. It’s not safe.” She said after a brief hesitation.

“I know where we can go.” Scott said after a moment. “Follow me.” He told them as he began to lead them back toward his hotel.

Scott led the two young women to the front entrance of the Le Grande Peninsula Hotel. As Scott and the two ladies traversed the last several blocks to the hotel, there had been an uneasy silence that hung over them. It was almost as if the girls were afraid to speak about their attacker, as to do so would summon him to them.

“Bonne journée.” The doorman said with a smile and a nod at the three travelers as they walked passed him.

“Bonjour.” Scott replied as he led the girls into the lobby and to the elevator.



Once they were safely inside Scott and Alexa’s suite, Seline and Sophie were more than happy to open up about the situation they found themselves, and by extension, Scott, in. Sophie tearfully told him about how Etoile and his underlings had forced their way into their home and slaughtered her cousin Tanya, as well as her aunt and uncle. As terrible as her story was, it was Seline’s tale that really got Scott’s attention.

She told him about the man who had slaughtered her family, and who Scott had nearly confronted on the crowded Parisian street when they had first crossed paths. She told him that this man, Etoile, was not a man at all, but a magical being, a fae. According to Seline, Etoile believed that the Fae were the rightful rulers of the Earth, and that it was only a matter of time before a war between Man and Faekind would erupt and then the Fae would take their rightful place. She had explained that Etoile was a militant force in the Paris underground, and while many dismissed his message as the ranting of a madman, he was still accumulating a number of followers. When he pressed her on how and why she would get involved with someone like that, she told him that she was only involved with him from a business standpoint.

“Money is hard to come by these days. Some of us have to do whatever we have to do to get by.” She told him. “I am very good at what I do, and it his kept my sister fed and clothed. So I make no apologies for doing what I have to do.”

She went on to explain that Etoile had had contacted her to recover an ancient artifact for him. It was something called a Divinity Shard, and from what she had learned about it, when combined with the other two shards it was supposed to give the wielder great power. She did not know what kind of power it held, or what Etoile wanted with it, she just knew that he was willing to pay a small fortune to get it. However, when she went to take the shard, it was not there. She didn’t know if someone had beaten her to it, or if she had been set up, all she knew was that it was not there, and she had to evade the owner’s private security force in order to get out of the pace alive. Unfortunately, Etoile was not known for being forgiving, and dealt with and failure harshly. Her failure to get the shard had doomed her, and unfortunately, her family had already paid for that failure with their lives.

Suddenly, there was a click as the lock to the suite door was disengaged and the door opened. Scott could see that the girls were nervous and ready to run, but he did his best to calm them as Alexa walked through the door. As soon as she stepped into the suite and saw Scott and two young women that looked utterly terrified, she knew that somehow, Scott had gotten them dragged into something that they probably had no business getting involved in.

“Scott, babe…what’s going on?” Alexa asked as she stepped into the living area, putting her bag down on the coffee table.

“Oh, hey Honey…” Scott said innocently as he began to recount the tale of how he had met the two sisters.



Etoile paced the center of his subterranean lair. The woman, Seline had escaped his grasp, and as such, so had the Divinity Shard. He had been seething over her failure to produce the shard, as well as his own inability to get his hands on her. She had proven to be every bit as slippery as her reputation had claimed, and she had, at least up to this point, eluded him. Suddenly, there was a flash of blinding light, and from that light stepped the shape of a man. As the light faded, his features became visible. The man was petite, with sharp features that were covered in make up and glitter. His hair was short and well sculpted, and comprised of a multitude of bright colors.

“What have you learned, Julius?” Etoile asked as the man stood before him.

“I’ve heard from some of my contacts, and I think I have some good news.” He responded.

“Have you found the Divinity Shard?” Etoile asked, perhaps coming off more hopeful than he had intended.

“Sadly no. But I do have something that could be just as valuable.” He said with a grin. “I may have found the girls.”

---

The morning sun had risen a couple hours ago; helping to save the city earned them some respite to sleep in. Charlie set an air mattress up with some spare bedding on the floor beside her bed for Maddi, Harry was still asleep as well. The oscillating fan was humming quietly in the background, the distant noise of work being done around the house. Things seemed to return to normal fast, eager to do so.

Charlie stared up at the ceiling, feet hanging off the edge of the mattress toes poking out from beneath the sheets. Their shared bedroom relatively tidy save for the odd pile of clothes. The dusty desk with an old white computer setup, the monitor possibly the heaviest thing on the desk and covered entirely with stickers. Across the desk was Harry’s summer reading project, a glue gun and some green pipe cleaners. Over the desk was a shelf packed with jars of feathers and sea shells, leaning against it were Harry and Charlie’s respective staves. A bookshelf reaching from floor to ceiling was tucked in at the end of Harry’s twin sized bed, underneath the window while Charlie’s sat on the opposite side. Posters covered the wall around the window of various movies and pop stars.

Old end tables covered with hair ties, assorted screwdrivers, and a glass half full with water nestled beside it was the alchemical mystery key. Charlie leaned over to the end table and scooped up the key. Examining it with a squint, playing with the weight again a thumbnail digging into the shaft of the key - softening it with alchemy.

Footsteps heralded a series of heavy knocks on the bedroom door, a courtesy mostly, followed by the image of Madalena awkwardly opening the bedroom door and holding it in place with her knee, balancing a recyclable tray of coffee drinks and baked goods in one hand and a suspicious duffel in the other.

”Morning!” she announced, softening her voice at the sight of a sleeping Harry. ”Sorry,” she whispered, leaving her bag in the doorway and setting her tray of confectionaries on a mostly clean end table. ”Did you know about the bakery on the other side of the block?” she said, rifling through a paper bag with the bakery logo. She pulled out a comically large muffin, tearing off chunks as she found a comfortable place to sit.

”I woke up early this morning, it’s become a habit lately. I was offered breakfast, but I’ve never been to this section of Lost Haven and the bakery was too tempting. Help yourself, I bought enough to feed a small army.”

Harry groaned from beneath her blankets shuffling the blanket up over her head. Grumbling, “Mornings suck.”

Charlie sat up putting the key aside and gratefully taking a cup of coffee and the food. “Shut up Harry, Maddi got us breakfast from Pauline’s.” Dirty blonde hair falling down over her shoulders, she took a long gulp of coffee before taking a bite of her BLT sandwich. She sighed with content.

Harry finally threw back the blankets and bolted out of her bed to snatch up the paper bag for a muffin. Through a mouthful of food she said, “phansks.” The resemblance between the sisters was pretty clear, while Harry was shorter than Charlie her blonde hair was streaked with various colours, bright grey blue eyes squinted before she retreated back to her bed to check her phone.

“I can’t get over the relief that the Hounds are done but the Winter Court is still out there going strong. Like all that bullshit from yesterday was for nothing. So much happened.” Charlie said with a furrow to her brow. “I know Lost Haven will just shrug this off, in spite of the destruction. Before this week I could too, but I’ve got this. . .”

She clenched her fist around her stomach, “This horrible twist in my stomach.” She took another bite of her sandwich chewing thoughtfully, she picked up the key again. “This better be worth the headache.”

”Speaking of,” Madalena knelt forward, pulling the burner phone from her back pocket and presenting it to Charlie. ”I got a text at 4:00 a.m. ‘Our deal isn’t over, we’ll be in touch.’ Pretty ominous, but I think it’s a good sign that our diversion paid off. The Witchfinder and his goons will be out of commission for a few days at least, plenty of time to figure out,” she pointed to the key, ”whatever this is.”

“Witchfinder ‘I don’t sleep at appropriate times’ General sending texts at 4am, but I think you’re right. This gives us more time.” Charlie agreed.

Madalena sipped her coffee, looking around the room and finding her attention drawn back to the doorway. She gasped and hurried over.

”Almost forgot,” she said, searching the duffle. A malodorous fume emanated from the bag, along with the rustling and clinking of glass, metal, and paper. Madalena produced the leatherbound journal from the bag, flipping through the pages and presenting those to Charlie as well. Charlie leaned over, Harry came bounding over landing beside her sister checking out the journal as well - curious as ever.

The selected pages were inscribed with a series of strange seals, liken to alchemical formulae, but bearing letters and numbers in place of planetary insignias. To the right was an illustration of a tree, phrases written in some archaic tongue scribbled on select branches.

”The page on the left is a cipher, or I think it is. I recognize this script; Transitus Fluvii, or Passing the River, created by the occultist, Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa. He pioneered quite a few magical languages back in the day. This one is fairly uncommon. But, lucky for us, I can read it . . . maybe.” she scratched her head, setting the journal on the end table next to Charlie. ”I just don’t know how it relates to this drawing.”

Harry tapped the page, “I remember that name, magic history with Gramps.” She said proudly.

Charlie pointed to the page, “You can read this?” She studied the image turning it on it’s side. Something familiar about it, she recognized some of the planet symbols, old alchemical symbols referred to the planets for various base elements like iron. The rest of the formulae made no sense in relation to the planets being used.

“Start translating while I boot up the computer. Knowing if Gramps had anything to do with whatever secrets that are being kept in that journal, he would have kept it simple.” She said dragging the chair over for her to sit, the computer booted up pretty quick in spite of how it looked. She built it from scratch with some help from Harry, they scrounged for decent recycled parts and it costed them next to nothing.

Harry piped up for Maddi’s benefit. “Which is why that key makes no sense, it’s complicated which is totally not his style.” She scooped up the key next, “It’s got a bunch of shifting, small parts, like. . . a rubix cube but a thousand times harder. Good luck I guess.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Charlie said as she tapped across the keyboard bringing up Night Sky Watchers page, various posts as she scrolled noting times and different planets visible in the night sky on the east coast. “I don’t know if the visible planets or constellations have anything to do with the formulae, astronomy isn’t really in my specialty.” She shuffled out of the way for them to see.

Harry shrugged, “It might be relevant.”

Madalena looked between the two images, the web page and the tree illustration. She searched for meaning in the cipher, piecing together letters that correlated with the arcane script, made even more difficult considering the script was made in conjunction with Hebrew. She managed to translate an inscription at the bottom of the page, if only because of its structure.

”When shall we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, or in rain.” Madalena read the phrase aloud, laughing under her breath. ”Of course Puck would use passages from Shakespeare. Not sure how it relates to . . . hey Charlie, can you bring up a map of the sky above Lost Haven specifically? I don’t know exactly when this was written, but I’m guessing we just look for a time when these same planetary symbols appear overhead.”

Charlie nodded, searching away and enlarged a photo of the night sky above Lost Haven specifically, She looked between the sky and the journal. “Does… Hey Harry does this look like South Point Beach to you?”

Harry took a few moments staring at the journal. “What a nerd.”

Charlie gave her a look, “Puck is way older than us combined kiddo, don’t fuck around.”

Harry rolled her eyes, “Old but still a Shakespeare nerd.” After another moment of studying the journal she nodded, “Yeah that’s definitely South Point, it’s got that unique dip along the coast.”

Charlie pulled up a map of Lost Haven itself next, tracing her finger along a line “That’s the old sewer line too. It’s been shut down and packed, depending on which big supes fight demolished the water line. Some parts were filled in when it was rebuilt but some areas I’ve poked around in before.” She scratched at her head, “Is this seriously a map of Lost Haven?”

”Of course it is! How else would we know where to put the key if Puck didn’t give us a map, god I hate how clever he is sometimes.” Madalena looked back at the journal, taking note of where the phrases and celestial symbols fell, then following them to the map of the sky above Lost Haven. ”The planetary symbols tell us where to look, and I’m guessing these phrases are clues too, maybe to narrow down the search. We match the branches to streets in Lost Haven where the planets are visible, we translate these remaining lines, and we use the key to find . . . something! Wow, this really is needlessly complex, probably a test of will or resolve, Puck loves tests.”

“No fucking wonder Puck and Gramps get along.” She grumbled. “The key is well. . . the key.”

Harry passed the key back to Charlie, “Can we. . . just-” She slid the key across the desk. “Maybe we need to take a step back, we’ve figured out some important stuff. Would it be worth it to talk to Puck directly about this? Tell him what we found yesterday?”
“I’ll be honest, I’m exhausted. If talking to Puck ends up being kinda useless we can still relax, have a drink knowing we’ll be safe at least for a night.” She said quietly, taking another bite of her breakfast sandwich wiping at the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

Harry noted sarcastically, “Yeah we’d appreciate a night where we didn’t suffer from heart failure too when you’re out of the house.”

Charlie looked to Harry apologetically. “That too.”

”I guess it couldn’t hurt,” Madalena agreed, closing the journal and placing it back in her duffel. ”Puck’s likely working on Phase 2 of his ‘Destroy the Winter Court’ plan anyway, we should probably be on the same page. I’m also dying to tell him about my first night out as Lady Hex. It was a little rough, although that storm was honestly some of my best work . . . really my only work.”

Charlie grinned at that, “It was fantastic, setting the bar high. I think we did amazing, we survived and came out with only a few scratches and got some great dirt on the bastards.”

Madalena chuckled, tapping Charlie’s shoulder. ”Yeah, I guess it was pretty good, but that bat you fashioned for Pantheon, and that arrow inside the Hound base; if nothing else, you have a future as a blacksmith, who are surprisingly magical if you look through some old folklore. Did you know that faeries often fear human blacksmiths?”

Charlie’s cheeks grew rosy and she turned away, “A blacksmith? Ha, I make the arrows and you enchant them. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Location: Zion National Park, Utah. Nearly 2 hours and a half outside of Nevada.
Time: Evening, month after the HoH attack.

---

The sun lowered itself beyond the horizon. Benjamin’s eyes caught the landscape drastically change into a dimmer doppelganger of itself, the blood-red rays faded to purple. The shrubbery and wispy trees dotted the valley between the towering cliffs, their sides naturally cradled the earth between them. Dark shadows rose into their assigned place when the sun finally vanished.

Their prey was not built to be nocturnal.

In a wicked motion, Benjamin’s black lips curled into a wolfish smile. His nostrils flared to catch the fear staining the breeze blowing past him. Another adrenaline bolted into his head, leaving a buzzing and encouraging rush at his skull’s back. His paws found the ground then pushed himself forward with the energy at a faster pace. Instinctively his eyes glanced to find Duff. The older wolf seemed nearly as drunk as he felt, a show of eagerness in his canine teeth glistened in the night.

His golden eyes returned to the front once more. He loved this moment in the hunt. The sensation of his tongue rolled at the corner of his snout, wind pulled past his fur and his muscles coiled underneath his fur. Energy rippled off each muscle as he became a golden blur among the scenery.

A few meters out, their gait slowed. This noses pointed to the air for their prey’s location. Among the rock structures stood the big horned sheep, their figures huddle close and pawed nervously at the ground. Nostrils filtered the air for hidden predators.

Benjamin snickered inwardly. They wouldn’t find any because the wolf pair were downwind. Duff snorted then jerked his head to the side, indicating Benjamin’s part in driving the sheep. Seriousness edged into his lax body language as he slinked off to the high ground. Duff trotted into out of sight behind a formation.

Meanwhile, Benjamin climbed higher. He was the aggravator. His job was simple: he scattered the sheep and drove them toward Duff, who would kill the weakest. It entitled the grisly old wolf to eat first, but Benjamin figured the old ass needed it more.

Slowly the younger werewolf scaled into the higher ground where the narrow breeze caught his smell and dragged to the prey. It worked like a charm.

The moment they scented him, their ears perked up and noses inhaled the information. Fear purged their common sense causing them to huddle closer. The younger males began to retreat slightly while they bleated in warning. Older rams lowered their head threateningly, their spindly legs braced their bulky body against the threat. They weren’t scared enough.

Benjamin growled in frustration. He paced from right then back to the left, eyeballing the distance from the group’s edge. The sheep’s sounds echoed off the canyon’s sides and threatened to deafen him. His fur bristled before he mock-charged at the nearest young male. It shoved backward in panic. The emotion spread through the sheep causing them to scatter down the only escape route available: right into Duff’s path.

With a happy and proud yip, he rushed after them. His figure entered the wide space just in time to see Duff’s jaws locked onto an elder ram’s hind leg. The pair struggled. As the sheep’s eyes widen in panic, it jerked a hooven foot back and kicked backward. On impact with Duff’s eye socket, the bone cracked.

Duff yelped as he released the ram’s foot. While the wolf hastily pawed away the blood, the prey hobbled to its feet then bolted away. Benjamin watched it a moment before he checked in on his companion.

‘Well, don’t stand there like a daff arse. Yer letting it get away!’ Duff mentally growled.

‘I wouldn’t be chasing it if you hadn’t dropped the ball.’

Benjamin paused to pick up the sheep’s scent more. His nose dug into the gravel where droplets of blood lead off into the section called a slot canyon. The tourists called it the ‘Subway’. Cautiously, he edged into the smoothed out tunnel where the Northern and Southern Guardian Angel came together. His steps echoed back at him as he casually moved deeper.

Eventually, his sharp vision caught the heavily breathing ram, its form on its side and breathing heavily. Blood stained the rocky floor where it stumbled then rose back up. It bleated in terror upon seeing him approach causing Benjamin’s lips to curl into a growl.

Something else was here. The moment he thought it, a large four-fingered hand emerged from the shadows farthest from him. It hovered over the ram before it slammed down to stun it. The creature never knew what hit it as the hand dragged it back into the shadows. A loud crunch vibrated the very walls with its sound.

Slowly, the young werewolf began to retreat. His hind paw touched something hard and rough, the cylinder shape rolled from under his footing. He stumbled.

A low rumbled indicated the predator in the shadows heard him. The crunching ceased as it shifted out of the shadows into the dim light.

‘Oh shit… Benjamin cursed.

Three Days Later...

The people of Crown Ridge had been on edge since the battle between the heroes and the Hounds of Humanity which had become popularly known as “The Siege of Lost Haven.” Crime had been up, and the Crown Ridge Police Department had been struggling to keep up with the increase in criminal activity. So despite their strict anti vigilante doctrine, some members of the CRPD had somewhat softened their stance when it came to getting help from outside the law, at least privately. Although some members of the local law enforcement community had at least temporarily softened their stance on vigilantism, the ban on vigilante activity still remained.
However, none of this mattered to Lyger, who had remained vigilant in his mission to protect the city. He had been out each night since the Hounds of Humanity had threatened Lost Haven, and by extension Crown Ridge with annihilation, scouring the city for those who wished to do it harm.

Now, he found himself on the rooftop of the Gabriel Building, overlooking downtown Crown Ridge, looking for any sign of trouble. However on this night, things were quiet. In the preceding nights there had been numerous armed robberies, assaults, and even a small riot, however, tonight there was no such activity. In fact, he had been getting ready to call it an early night when he became well aware of a presence nearby. At first, he thought that perhaps it was Flux, but then he realized that this presence was not only behind him, but above him.

“Something I can help you with, Icon?” Lyger asked without ever turning to face the hero of Lost Haven.

“You're not an easy man to find.” Icon told him as he lowered himself to the rooftop.

“I know. That's kind of the point.” Lyger said.

“Arthur and I have been talking.” Icon started. “Over the last couple of years, we've been facing threats that are growing in magnitude. Each time, there has been a group of us that have come together to meet whatever crisis we were facing head on, and we've been able to beat it back. D-Day, Pax Metahumana, the Hounds of Humanity.”

“Go on.” Lyger told him.

“We think that maybe it's time that we put together a team, officially.” Icon said.

“You're talking about The Guardians.” Lyger said, referencing the name that the media had given the group of heroes who had come together to save not only the city, but the entire world on more than one occasion. “I don't know.”

“Look, if the Hounds of Humanity taught us anything, it's that we have to be better prepared. If we don't get better organized, we might not be able to stop whatever comes next.” Icon paused for a moment, letting his words linger in the air. “But it's not just that. There has to be some kind of accountability. Look at what happened this last time, there were people fighting along side us doing just as much damage as the Hounds were, with about as much regard for life.”

“I agree.” Lyger said as he remembered seeing Pantheon summarily execute more than on of the Hounds.

“We have to be better than that, if we're not we're no better than the people we're trying to stop.”

“You're not wrong.” Lyger conceded. “I'm just not sure that a team is the right way to go. Especially with Arthur involved. He hasn't exactly shown that he's the best man to put this kind of thing together. He almost got some kids killed against Diplodoc because he thought that they were ready, when they clearly weren't.”

“And that's why I want you to join us.” Icon said.

“I don't really play well with others.” Lyger said in a matter of fact tone.

“But you're one of the first to show up when you're needed. And you are always willing to put it all on the line. Look, you may not think of yourself as a team player, but you're exactly what we need. I'm not sure we can do this without you.” Icon told him. “Besides, I think you make Arthur nervous.” Icon said with a grin.

“He told you to tell me this was your idea, didn't he?” Lyger asked with a lightness in his tone that hadn't been there before.
“He did.” Icon confirmed with a chuckle.

“Alright, I'm in. If for no other reason than to keep an eye on you all.” Lyger told him.

“That's all I can ask.” Icon said as he lifted off the rooftop. “See you around.



Now

For the better part of a month, Lyger had been tracking the movements of the Winter Park Gang, who had been ramping up their activities since the heat that the Hounds of Humanity had generated had begun to wane. Lyger had been relentless in his pursuit of the criminal enterprise, which had ties to the Shroud Syndicate. He had chased down lead after lead, however, he had failed to find any information that would bring him any closer to the Winter Park Gang's leadership, particularly the one who called himself Rabbit.
Until last night.

He had been tracking a low level thug named Jason Fortin, who was a glorified drug runner for the Winter Park Gang. Fortin was a nobody, a loser. He'd done time for petty theft and drug and weapons charges. He even did a stint in Tartarus Island because of his fetish for underage girls. However, despite the fact that he was a complete waste of skin, he had connections to Rabbit and some of the other high ranking members of the Winter Park Boys.

Lyger had followed Fortin from his apartment on Fryburg Way to what Lyger had learned was his favorite night club, The Golden Mango Gentleman's Club several blocks away. He had waited for the lowlife on the rooftop of a neighboring building until Fortin left through the front door just over an hour later. Lyger continued to follow him as he left the establishment, and once Fortin was far enough away from prying eyes, Lyger had swooped down, knocking the scum back face first into the wall of a nearby building. After a few moments of being pummeled by the black clad vigilante, Fortin was more than happy tell him anything that he wanted to know.

Acting on the information that Fortin had provided him, Lyger had set up shop on the roof across from the waterfront. According to Fortin, the Winter Park Gang would be meeting with the Russians for a weapons deal that could potentially net the Winter Park Gang a small fortune.

Lyger waited in the shadows, watching the shipping vessel “Pelican Breeze,” on which the deal was supposed to go down. There was no activity on the street below, and the area near the ship was completely still. Yet when the clock tower across town chimed, indicating that it was nine o'clock, the activity began to pick up. Several cars began to pull up to the ship, and a number of people, all appearing heavily armed began to pour out of the vehicles.

This was it, Lyger was finally going to be able to make a move on Rabbit himself, all he had to do now was wait until all the pieces were in place.

A month was a long time, while Hound Dog and Roadblock did pursue the “Werewolf” further into the Hounds base, it had managed to elude them, any clues they had soon dried up, and so they both returned to their duties. While news of his involvement stopping the biggest threat the world faced had increased his popularity the same could not be said for meta in Pacific Point things had not gone smoothly, metas driven mad by the Hounds of Humanity, a string of thefts, concerns mounting about the use of excessive force.

Still Hound Dog had rarely used the kinda force needed to glass an entire person and people on his fan site began wondering if the New Metas were beginning to be a problem, himself included, and while there are those who stood up for him; others had not taken to heroism like Hound Dog hoped and some are using their gifts for violent crimes. The Hounds had driven some sort of stake between the people and the supers and until recently all news surrounding the werewolf was silent. The weeks he spent back in Pacific Point felt short and with some evidence popping up he had reason to travel to Lost Haven again arriving at the airport where he was to meet up with Roadblock.

Richard had continued on after the Hounds raid business as usual, it didn’t help his reputation around the office that he had let an overgrown dog get away, but these things happened. However, a few weeks after the raid, Lost Haven Police got wind of a sudden trail of kidnappings.

As they investigated they found that most victims were those of the meta community, people who were reported to have gifts or abilities of some kind, making them prime targets for Hounds of Humanity remnants, and several Hound hideouts were soon found afterwards. All of these things would put this case into the jurisdiction of normal police, but not all the victims were metas, and not all were ever found. There were also sightings of a “wolfman” or “werewolf”, which of course was shelved into nonsense.

So a few members of the Special Cases Department decided to gather a couple people that happened to be familiar with such nonsense. Although the SCD had no rights to this case, it didn’t stop them, and so they sent out a few details to a certain someone.



Picking up his luggage over by the baggage claim Sinclair was fairly new to flying and had some trouble picking his bag up as he got turned around and was waiting at another flight’s claim carousel, taking the initiative he looked around looking for a customer service representative or anyone for that matter.

Richard was idling near the claims area, leaning on wall, wondering if he really should have bothered with this until someone caught his eye.

_{“Pompadour, check, leather jacket, check. It’s him.”}

Richard muttered into his phone, which he quickly pocketed. He pushed himself into a walk and approached the lines, making a b-line towards someone he had barely met only a month ago.

“Mister Adams, Sinclair Adams? I’m your ride.”

Still turned around in the confusion of this confounded airport claim area. Hound Dog turned and saw a man he had never seen. Looking him over he could tell his pulse was normal no signs of agitation or irregular heartbeat so either he was a amazing liar or he was truly his ride. ”Are youse? Righty-O then I seem to be missing my luggage, and whom might you be. “

“I hope you didn’t pack much, and I’m a detective with the LHSCD.” Richard then produced a badge from the underside of his suit for Hound Dog to see.

“Roadblock sent you the case details a few weeks ago, which we hope you kept secret.”

”It’s cool Daddy-O, no ones knows about it. THough my luggage does have my hero gear, hard to get heat linings through airport security ya know. But yeah had a few ideas on our case. Between youse and me, being the only ones here right now else I’d have gotten my luggage bout now, been working on something to track it well it’s mostly trackers so I could get a good feel of the electrical frequency. Youse think they’d have a kill switch and tracker gizmo around in case it got loose.” Hound Dog said as most people were either out of earshot or had all gotten their luggage and moved on.

“Maybe they did, and maybe it doesn’t work so good anymore. All that matters is it’s out there tearing stuff up, and nobody’s managed to stop it.”

Looking at the nearby directory he tried making out where he was. ”Do youse knowhow to read this? Sooner we get my gear the sooner we burn rubber. Just thinking what the hounds have laying around terrifies me, I saw some of the things they were working on. I bet they had everything STRIKE had even all the supervillain tech ands research. We saw the finger of god, but what they haven’t used worries me.”



Richard and Hound Dog sat in the front of a police cruiser, with Richard driving of course. He had a sort of inner glee in the meanwhile as it had been some time since he’d had an honest car to drive around, as usually his mode of transportation was a little bulkier. Richard had often asked the R&D staff to come up with some way to allow the armor to integrate with a normal cruiser or cycle, but to no avail, so this was a sort of early christmas.

But he realized that eventually they’d have to get to business, so he spoke up.

“What do you remember from the night of the raid?”

Hound Dog sat bottle of water in hand as he kept a duffle bag at his feet open and was rifling through it. ”Bout the creature, or the base? I remember a bit, lots of tech chambers that they could stuff animals into and inject all sorts of cocktails into them and robotic limbs they used so personel weren’t too endangered. Creature must be some sort of super wolf, some serum or villain must have made advancements in splicing or genetic recoding animal DNA.” Sinclair added as he took out some books among his belongings. Covers and articles on DNA editing and robotics gave away their contents. ”Boning up on my research into what the hounds were doing or what I think they may have anyways. Hard to tell without further access into their computers and archives.”

“It might be some kind of jumped up wolf, sure, or it could be a some kind of deformed metahuman. You’ve seen a few people like that haven’t you? Either way, the Hounds think it’s the genuine things.” Richard gestured to the glove box with a jerk of his head.

“Some of the stuff we pulled from their computer the last time you guys were there, and some of the stuff he couldn’t send by mail”

”Rad.” Taking the files, and adjusting his leg to form a sort of table he went over it, general details about it’s supposed height and weight. ”Youse looked at this right, it’s supposed weight four hundred and eighty pounds. Man that has some bulk on it’s undercarriage, a good nine feet at least too standing on it’s hinds. I remember it big but that’s something else.”

“Yeah, they grow them big wherever it came from. Some of that might also have been from the Hounds, from some of the other science logs it sounds like they actually believed stuff like magic was real. So they tried to take and study as much as they could, even put a few things of their own in it, but it doesn’t look like we managed to grab everything. It could have a surprise or two up its sleeve.”

”Youse said something about kidnappings over the mail too right, nothing specific but I bet you got a map laying around we could use to figure out it’s hunting grounds. It’s smart, holds a grudge clearly as youse guys have discovered unknown hideouts because of it; means there’s intelligence behind it. I think you’re right about it being something human or was. I dunno about magic, that might be an angle we’ll cross that after we rule out everything else. I’d hate to think magic was real. That opens up a whole can of worms I’d not wanna bother with.”

“What’s wrong, afraid of a few card tricks?” Richard turned to give a wry smile before putting his eyes back on the road.
“Yeah, looks like the Hounds are getting sloppier ever since that satellite business, we managed to dig up a few hideouts trying to put a hammer on these kidnappings, and each of those hideouts looked like the part of the base you and Roadblock hit a while ago. The rest of the police think it’s just a rampaging meta looking to take an eye for an eye, but I managed to take a look at their files, we got an idea on where it’s goin next, and that’s where you and Roadblock are going to hit.”

Hound Dog began stripping off his jacket and shirt. ”I’m gonna need the back of the cruiser too. Need to change my pants, lots of thermal linings in my clothes. Just a heads up.”

“W-whoa whoa! Wait a minute!” Richard nervously glanced at the rearview mirror, just out of curiosity, he couldn’t believe this guy.

“Your pants too?” He shouted again.

“You can wait until I park us, we’re almost there!”

”I’m not gonna take off my pants while you’re driving, no. Underwear too by the way. Can’t fry my junk. Besides we’re both guys here we’re not doing any back seat bingo.”

T-the underwear too? Maybe I could have gotten Artemis to drive instead. Richard nervously thought.

Richard turned the cruiser around a corner, placing an older looking warehouse into view. Several cars were parked around the side, the the LHSCD trailer was waiting for him on the side of the street, in front of another building. Richard decided to park the car next to them, to help hide the car too as they approached.

“At least wait for me to get out before you start.” Richard said as he moved to release the seatbelt.

This guy is way too eager.

Guess I could. Things get tight youse know, need to add some powder some times to slip in.”

“No, it’s fine, I don’t need the details.” Richard said as he quickly closed the door and briskly walked towards the trailer, breathing a deep breath on the way. He knocked on the back of the trailer, and backed off to give the doors some room. His partner, Detective McMann, was busy pretending he was on a propper SCD case, so the only people present in the trailer was a driver, and a few of the R&D staff.

A monitor on a nearby terminal lit up with a simple face composed of two dots and a line for a ‘mouth’.

”So, did you enjoy your time with a superhero?”

Richard thought about what Hound Dog said before he left.

”Powder.”

”Tight.”

“This was a mistake.”

A glowing blue and green marble. To the people of earth, their planet was a wonder, a unique thing. Of course, you’d think the abundance of things like alien invaders and superheroes would lessen their opinion of the thing. But no, Terrans were annoyingly self contained nad ignorant. Hara sat comfortably, one foot on the console and a cigarr between his fingers as he watched the planet from the bridge of his “Ghost” Class cruiser.

“I don’t get it.” Huey said, nursing his own drink. “Why isnt this planet part of C.O.R.E or FPU.” The massive, hard carapaced fishman asked as he downed his fifth drink for the evening. Wiping his mouth on the back of one giant hand.

“Its a relatively small planet. Its resources are already being depleted by it locals, and they are behind the space-relevance curve” Hara shrugged, idly eyeing the information scrolling across the screen. “While also boosting a truly bizarre amount of telepaths, metabiological anomalies and mystics. Making integration of them into a pan galactic network a risk.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t Ah me. What are you thinking, brother of mine?”

“The whole “raid CORE ships, beat up guards and get away routine is… boring’” Huey mutters as he punch in a few words into the data base.

“Computer. Show me a list of terran defense systems.” Huey eyed the screen as it showed various locations of interest, and military satellites. They could punch into the Terran airspace and likely lay waste to a large city by the time earth could mount a proper military response. No, the problem would be the Metas and their ilk. There were so many of them after all.

“Are you spoiling for a fight?” Hara leaned forward, his eye suddenly fixed on his massive brother in arms.” His uncovered eye suddenly twinkling with the notion of chaos and some fun. huey was the calmer of them by a longshot, but if Huey was up for a spill down on earth to sate their boredom. Oh, that was basicly the go ahead for the captain to really let loose.

“Are you telling me you aren’t?” Huey grinned back at Hara, seing the way his brother seemed to be ready to bound out of his chair and run at the nearest shuttle. All he waited for was a good target. They were pirates, bandits, thieves. Murderers and pillagers by any definition of the word. But they didn’t target weaklings unless it fit their agenda.

"I guess I am" No, if they were simply going for a fight. They needed a proper target.

“I like this one.” Huey brought up the screen to project across the bridge for all to see. It showed a bunch of people, fighting one another with an assortment of mind boggling powers. They saw evidence of high tech that even they could make a buck off, and any number of interesting individuals.

“We could actually make some money here Bro.” Huey mumbled as he tagged Iron Knight and some of the others for further investigation.

All Haras eyes could see however, was that one big bastard who made his blood boil for some reason. A iconoclast paragon of virtue and order. The anathema to his own existence.

“Icon eh…”

His smile cracked open across his dark features, as he reached for the button the com unit.

“Bloodrose pirates. This is your captain. We got work to do.”

“So, this is the device you were talking about,” Kelly stated as she examined the chair that Chris had designed to the false memories that had been sprouting in peoples’ heads. “But does it work?”

“Well, hypothetically it does,” Chris reassured Kelly, although his expertise did not do much to convince the brunette.

“So you’re telling us that you want us to use an untested machine?” Kelly then turned around and face Chris, Veronica, and Sammy. She had her arms crossed and was shaking her head, showing that she was unsure about this plan.

“Well, it is highly unethical for me to force some supervillain I had apprehended to be my guinea pig, so I needed someone who would help me out willingly,” Chris tried to defend himself, but from the expression on Kelly’s face he knew that it was an uphill battle.

“I would have done it, but I’m apparently banned from testing it out,” Veronica chimed in, much to Chris’ chagrin.

“I’m not going to subject my only sister to an experimental treatment before I know it works without a hitch.”

“So you don’t know whether it will work, do you? Yet you want us to test it?” Kelly snapped at Chris.

“You have to understand that she’s all the family I have left! I’m not going to risk scrambling her brains.”

“Yet you want us to take that risk! That’s just so reassuring!”

“I’ll do it,” Sammy finally interrupted the arguing with her calm, yet sorrowful voice.

“Sammy, Chris even admitted that he doesn’t know what the risks might be. You can’t possibly accept that type of chance!”

“I already have a broken heart. What more harm could scrambling my brain do,” Sammy answered her best friend back. Kelly would have tried to continue to dissuade Sammy from this path, but she knew that, once Sammy had made up her mind, there was nothing in this world that could change her course.

Sammy then slithered over towards the chair and took a seat. Her serpentine tail coiled tightly around the base of the chair, as she tried to calm her nervous. Although Sammy had made up her mind, that did not mean her nerves would not get to her.

“Take this,” Chris suggested to the snake-girl as he handed her a mouth piece, which she immediately popped into her mouth. “This should be over soon.”

Once Sammy had been prepped for the procedure, Chris stepped back and manned the controls that operated the chair. With a press of a button, the device that would rest above Sammy’s head descended above her. The machine then started to hum louder and louder. The metal that composed the base of the chair began to creak, as Sammy’s snake tail squeezed tighter and tighter around it. Sammy grasped at the armrest as the procedure continued.

Almost as quickly as the machine had warmed up and fired, the device also shut down just as fast. During the procedure, Sammy’s body had grown slack and limp, and her tail slipped from its grip on the chair. Thinking that the experiment had gone utterly wrong, Kelly rushed over to her friend’s aid. With a flick of her wrist, Kelly used a quick magical incantation to yank out the protective mouthpiece out of Sammy’s mouth and flung it across the room.

“Come on Sammy, wake up,” Kelly pleaded as she gently sat Sammy up in the chair. Kelly gave a sigh of relief when Sammy began breathing again and started to come to.

“How did I get here?” Sammy asked aloud as she realized that she was not in Albany, New York anymore. Instead, she was in the Sherman Center building, where the heroes had assembled for the Pax Metahumana crisis.

“It’s kind of a long story, so let’s get you home,”

As Kelly was helping Sammy out of the chair, Sammy had not realized that she had different powers now and therefore tried to take a step as if she still had two legs. As a result, she fell straight into the floor, face first.

“Okay, who’s the wise guy who tied my feet—” Sammy began to say until she looked at her ‘feet’ and saw that a giant snake’s body had replaced everything below her waist. “What happened to me?”

“That’s kind of part of that long story,” Kelly responded, not quite sure where to begin explaining everything.

“Please don’t tell me there was some Freaky Friday shenanigans involving Mr. Arthur’s sister!”

“Oh, it was nothing like that,” Chris finally interjected into the conversation. “I haven’t figured out what caused it, but something made you think a different version of you, who had a different life than the real you, if that makes any sense.”

“What do you mean a different me?”

“Can you recall anything from the past twenty-four hours?”

“Not really. Everything is sort of hazy,” Sammy replied.

“Maybe take a moment and see if anything comes to mind.”

Sammy then closed her eyes as she tried to rack her brain to figure out whether she remembered anything that had recently happened to her. At first, she wore a tired, confused look on her face, showing that she was drawing blanks. However, when Sammy’s cheeks began to blush, her snake coils gave out from underneath her, and she began biting her lower lip, it was clear that she had recalled something.

“Kelly, please tell me that Lyger and I didn’t…um…do it, did we?”

“Well, you did claim to have, but I can’t possibly fathom that it actually happened.”

“Maybe I should call Ky…Lyger. He should—” Sammy stopped midsentence when she was suddenly hit by another memory like a wall of bricks.

“Oh my God, what did I do?” Sammy cried as she held her hands up against her mouth in shock. “Did I really try to seduce and rape him?”

“Come on, Sammy. It wasn’t exactly like that. You weren’t yourself and your other you thought was going to be consensual.”

“But it was!” Sammy told Kelly as the waterworks began to flow. Kelly naturally allowed her friend to cry on her shoulder, hoping she could at least somehow calm down her stressed-out friend.

“Well, since we know it works, I guess it’s my turn!” Veronica tried to talk her way into using the machine next. However, Chris was not having any of it.

“You’re going to have to wait your turn. It’s guests first,” he chided his younger half-sister. “Anyways, it would be incredibly rude for us to rush them when one of them is having an existential crisis.”

Time: Noon, One Month Ago
Location: Location: Hudson Valley Wyrd – Hudson Valley, New York

---

A familiar jingle to the tune of a well aged tv show came Marie’s call, it was time to move on and visit the Red Devil. While Mandate and Odette together had time and virtue to catch up properly. Leisurely they made their way back to where Odette was originally dropped off, Mandate resuming her disguise as a plain but passably tall human with two dull brown eyes that rarely blinked. Unsettling if one were to stare.

Mandate adjusted her weight considerably for the vehicle and managed to squeeze in the front passenger seat while Marie and Odette were in the back.

“Puck’s vague warnings, I am sure he will elaborate in person.” Odette remarked sarcastically. “Let us get on with it.”

Marie gave Mandate a once over, never having fully experienced her glamoured form. She held a strange presence, something Marie might expect from a being such as a golem. She batted away the thought and turned to Odette.

”Agreed. It’ll take a few minutes to drive up to the valley, I can use the time to fill you in. The Hudson Valley Wyrd are a fairly old coven, German lineage for the most part. Aside from maybe the witching families in Vegas, they’re one of the largest I’ve seen. Followers of Frau Holda, mostly. Their coven holds one of the few permanent doors to The Red Devil. Puck closed all the temporary ones with the onset of the Hound attacks.”

Marie turned away and directed the driver, who had made the mistake of taking a major highway instead of the residential street she’d requested. Once they were back on track, Marie continued.

”We should expect a fair amount of traffic both in the Hudson Valley and The Red Devil. Plenty of witches, fey, and others were displaced in the Hound attacks.”

“I have heard all about The Red Devil but never personally entered. Illustrious melting pot for locals and riff raff.” Odette commented, “The Hudson Valley Wyrd must have some strong ties to Puck as well to have a permanent portal, I wonder why. . . Puck has had his hooks in America for a long time.”

Odette glanced Marie’s way, “What did Uncle Puck have to say about your new ties?”

Marie shifted in her seat.

”Not nearly as much as I’d hoped. He says he pieced it together after your meeting and that he didn’t want to interfere with me finding out on my own. And when I asked him if he were . . . my uncle, he didn’t say anything, just that he’d explain everything when we next met.”

Marie shook her head. It was in Puck’s nature to be vague, he couldn’t help it. She expected as much from every interaction, but it didn’t stop her from becoming annoyed when his cryptic warnings and portents involved Gwyneth.

”And I suspect he has an invested interest in the Hudson Wyrd because of their gifts in divination. He told me a while ago that Frau Holda had greater vision than his own. The witches there were able to piece together quite a few details before my first arrival. Maybe they trade information.”

Odette turned her lip at that, “Perhaps. If what they have is valuable I have plenty to trade physically, information as well. You know how I feel about divination, whether it is from Puck or a coven it will be frustrating.”

“I much rather deal with the present and fresh information than of what may happen.” She waved her hand at the idea. “What did you have in mind to ask for insight on? Mab?”

Marie shook her head. ”Nothing in particular, although anything they provide would be a boon to us. The Witch Mother has as great an interest in these witches as Puck, and acting on her behalf should grant us something in return; it has with every other coven I’ve met so far. Maybe they’ll let me speak to Frau Holda again, she said something interesting when I was there last. ‘We are kindred spirits.’ I keep hearing that. I’d almost forgotten about it until the spirit of The Land in Salem said the same thing. What could that mean?”

She looked to Odette for inspiration, hoping her time among the fey and their ilk would conjure some modicum of a clue about their crypticism. Her experience with witches and their patrons was scant, true, but their relation to the fey was not so distant.

“Similar origins? Family roots? Spirit is free form to the Fair Folk. While mortals,” She pressed a hand to her chest, “Are anchored. Faerie form in spirit and return to it once they ‘die’.”

She used air quotes around die, “Which is not death as we see it. Bach has had some experience in following spirit, passing interest. Kindred Spirit could be referring to faerie bloodline, perhaps others who are in touch with their ancestry can see it in others like yourself. Having ‘sight’ can be opened beyond seeing fey. Once you have eyes to see, you can learn to see more.”

Crossing her leg, “Or it could have been a comment that you held similar fashion choices.”

Marie laughed. ”I doubt it, it’s been a while since I mounted a stag head on my body but anything’s possible.”

It was something to think on, and perhaps it was as simple as Marie’s faery lineage, but something told her that there was more to it, answers to questions that she had yet to ask.

Their conversation brought them into the Hudson Valley, passing over a bridge into a thicket of forest showing the first hint of autumnal decay. Marie saw Holt in the distance positioned next to a familiar figure, an elderly woman in robes hunched over on a cane. The car stopped just shy of the entrance to the Wyrd’s domain, obscured by an exceptionally powerful enchantment.

”Finally here,” she announced, stepping out of the car once it had fully stopped and retrieving her bags from the trunk.

The elderly woman, features hidden behind dark robes, beckoned to Marie and Odette, bidding them follow an inconspicuous dirt path woven between trees in a sporadic pattern. “Good to see you again, White Witch,” she commented as they walked, tapping on the trunks of trees and whistling discordant melodies along the way. “Same to you, miss Ambassador. There are a few among us who’ve studied your work, spoken to the Fair Folk who’ve crossed our paths. Always a treat to meet a cunning individual such as yourself.”

Odette raised her brow, “A pleasure to meet you as well. . . I was not aware that others studied my actions across the atlantic or took notice.” She felt a mix of intrigue, a shed of pride.

“I cannot be surprised however, my activity as of late in Las Vegas was bound to receive some attention.” She said.

“Indeed,” replied the old woman, stopping in a clearing surrounded in birch trees. She whistled, waiting to hear the trees respond, then uttered a word under her breath. In an instant, the veil was lifted, revealing the Hudson Valley Wyrd in all its splendor. The dirt path turned to cobbled walkways and gravel streets, trees become stout hovels and tall cottages of impressive design, inspired by colonial and medieval architecture, and the central statue of Frau Holda stood high above them, a distaff in one hand and a scythe in the other, offerings at her feet, fresh bread, cream, wheat, plates of cured meats and berries, beer, coins, and others.

Marie’s assumption was correct, the wyrd had been visited by a number of stray practitioners, witch or otherwise, looking for a safe haven in the wake of the Hound attacks. She also noted the presence of several invisible creatures, faeries, familiars, anything incorporeal. They lingered at the edge of her vision, some bowing if they noticed her staring, others hissing in contempt. Odette saw them as well, seeing the various fey some native only to the Americas, hearing various languages being muttered amongst the spirits.

“As you can see,” the elderly matron spoke up, “we have had our fair share of visitors as of late. Fortunately, we foresaw such an event when first we settled in the area and chose our enchantments carefully. Had we known, however, the magnitude of this affront, we might have shared our work with our fallen brothers and sisters. You know the fate of the Adessi coven, I presume?”

Marie nodded, presenting the pouch of tokens. ”That’s part of the reason we came. Genevieve Lachance sends her regards on behalf of the Witch Mother. They’ve performed a ritual and blessed these tokens with some form of protection meant for you and the other covens she’s visited.”

“Yes, your familiar explained it to me moments ago. We thank you for this service, White Witch, and would happily offer you and your friend whatever is within our power to offer.”

“Merci beaucoup. An intriguing offer but we hope to gain access to the portal to The Red Devil, please.” Odette said, the chance at a clearer reading into her future tempted The Ambassador fiercely while it also distressed her. Smile strained she turned to Marie, “White Witch and I have some business to attend to.”

“Of course, follow the path up to that circle of stones, there you’ll find the door. But there is one more thing, a message from Frau Holda, something she whispered to me only this morning. ‘Within the mother’s fertile womb lies the answer, seek change where chaos is born, transform, restore, or destroy. The choice is yours’. I believe that portent is meant for the both of you, although I cannot decipher its meaning. I assumed you would know when presented.”

She took the tokens from Marie and made her way through the crowded wyrd, disappearing from view.

Marie shook her head. ”I have no idea what that means. I’m guessing it has something to do with our current goal, but it’s not much to go on.”

“I do not either, Puck’s prophecy referred to a womb as well.” Gripping the strap of her purse, “There must be some link. Not for us to know as of right now.” She commented turning to head toward the portal, muttering. “’The choice is yours.’”

---

Time: Noon, One Month Ago
Location: Lost Haven, Maine

Breakfast eaten, showered and dressed for another day, together Madalena and Charlie made their way into the city back to The Shadow of the Moon Jules giving them a ride back. Once they arrived Charlie bent down by the driver window to say thanks and Jules gave her a look as cold as ice.

“Text me.” She said.

Charlie nodded, no arguing. “Yes ma’am.”

Jules nodded then her icy expression melted away waving at Maddi, cheerfully she said, “It was so nice to meet you! Take care, you’re welcome by the Corner whenever you like.”

Turning away Charlie was dressed similarly to how she was the day before, clean set of clothes opting to keep the kevlar arm pads and shin pads she improvised with some alterations. Her hair tied into their twin braids, hood down and goggles around her neck and staff in hand. While it was supposed to be a chill day to relax, Charlie felt decidedly naked without pockets full of salt and a water bottle full of rubbing alcohol on her belt.

Madalena waved to Jules a little overenthusiastically, rustling through her pockets to locate the key to Shadow of the Moon. Compared to Charlie, Madalena looked much more civilian, dressed simply, if not a little formal, in slim, black slacks, heeled sandals, a black v-neck, and a red blazer that complimented her hair. Slung around her shoulder was an oversized duffel filled with tools of the trade, along with Puck’s journal, files on the Witchfinder General, and Lady Hex’s attire.

”Honestly, I think I’ll be happy when I can open the shop up again. It’s been a week since I’ve had time to restock and organize the shelves, and I think my rent is late too . . . wait, no, I paid it, nevermind.” She rambled as she unlocked the store, walking along a few empty displays and pointing at unused floor and wall space. Madalena directed Charlie’s attention to the office and the meditation room behind the counter, a space she would soon be converting into a workroom for her future experiments. Along the same wall, barely visible from the front of the store, was the storage room, whose door held a painting of a dark forest and a tall, lightly illuminated being in the canopy’s shadow.

“If you need help to set back up again just let me know.” Charlie offered before laying eyes on the illustration. “Puck is alright, but he still looks like he stepped out of the darkest corners of humanity’s nightmares. . .”

She gulped, “Respectfully.”

“They probably serve a pretty kickass pint of beer.” She added. “So what do we gotta do? I still have his card.” She pulled out the little red business card turning it about between her fingers.

“Open Sesame?”

Madalena chuckled. ”Not quite, and actually that card is a little outdated. Before the whole Hounds and Witchfinder nonsense, anyone who knew how could open a door to The Red Devil. But Puck thought that might be dangerous considering, so now only what few permanent doors he’s put here and there will give you access. The closest one is in New York, well, was in New York. He told me how to make one.”

Madalena removed the painting from the door, revealing the ashen symbol of an imp within a circle of thorns, accompanied by a phrase interwoven in the circle, etched in another strange, arcane script.

”All you do is knock three times and read the inscription. OH! And don’t worry yourself too much with Puck. He’s a little intimidating, I admit, but from what I can tell, he’s not one of those immortal beings that demand constant respect. His reputation revolves around him being a trickster, a little fun at his expense kinda comes with the territory.”

Madalena moved the painting to the side, balancing it against the wall beneath a dusty tapestry, something she’d removed from display because of the moth holes at the bottom.

”Has your Granddad told you anything about The Red Devil before? Seems like he’s a regular.” Madalena asked as she prepared to open the door.

Charlie shook her head a hand trailing over the surface, “He said it’s invite only, a little jealous he wants to take Harry there for her 21st. We just went to a regular bar for mine. He also said he’d come ‘round for birthdays and anniversaries, whenever another alchemist needed help. He just never went into detail, you know? Always promising it was something to be seen with your own eyes.” She said removing her hand and stepping back. “For all the time I’ve spent crawling around in Lost Haven’s gutters and exploring it’s abandoned areas I never really got to see what else it was hiding.”

“There was always something else to do.” She said.

Madalena smiled. ”Then today’s your lucky day. Your Granddad was right, it really is something you need to see yourself.” Maddi turned, knocking three times on the door with a slight pause between each, speaking clearly and with intent the phrase Wild, Wicked, and Wretched be.

Puck’s symbol glowed with unearthly light, like dying embers roused to life. The door swung open, revealing a world completely separate to their own, one filled with idle chatter in alien tongues, otherworldly laughter that sent chills down their spines, smells like poison, expensive alcohol, berries, musk, and the sea, and table after wicker table of Fair men and women, shades, demons of different makes, shapes and sizes, witches and magical practitioners you couldn’t tell apart by looks alone, but to some each had a distinct smell or aura that spoke to the origin of their power.

It was as if they had traveled through time, into a storybook. On every wall, illustrations of a shadowy figure loomed. Behind the bar, stocked with almost anything one’s heart could desire, was a greenish imp mixing away. In the corners of the room were stands and displays where wayward merchants of this world and the next sold all manner of strange concoctions and trinkets, with Puck’s blessing of course. Chandeliers like twisted vines and sticks held candles that provided the perfect amount of dark ambiance to an already ethereal room. And just opposite a spiral staircase, parallel to the bar, a massive stage were a band of faeries and devils played strange music, dwarfed by a crystalline mirror that hung in the background.

”Welcome to The Red Devil.” Madalena said to Charlie, gesturing for her to walk ahead and take everything in.

Eyes widening like a pair of dinner plates her gape slowly grew into a large grin, looking left and right. The sight of the tavern marvelled Charlie to no end, never truly seeing so much of the magic folk and community in one spot. They were completely right, it was impossible to describe.

“This is amazing.”

She blinked looking to Maddi now, “This is fucking awesome.”

Rolling her staff in her hands in anticipation. “Feels kinda like going to university for the first time but 100 times cooler and less debt.”

”Well, less immediate debt. I’ve heard some horror stories on people who come through and don’t deliver on contracts they have with Puck, but those aren’t too common.”

”Indeed,” a voice echoed through the tavern, jumping off walls, emanating from shadows, collecting into a mass that sauntered down the spiral staircase over to Charlie and Madalena. ”I always collect on my debts, but fear not, dearest alchemist, I am usually a saint.”

Puck strolled past the bar, slender claws clutching a glass of whiskey from the impish bartender and downing it before finding himself in front of the pair, standing much taller than the two of them, not including the ashen antlers that added an extra two feet.

”I see you have found one another, as intended.” he grinned, taking Madalena’s hand, kneeling closing, and kissing it. ”A marvelous display of power last night, Lady Hex. I observed your progress from afar. That storm could put quite a few Welsh witches to shame. Well done.”

Madalena blushed, happy to hear, for the second time that day, how her work had been admired.

Charlie elbowed her with a grin, appreciating Puck’s entrance not coming from behind them. It took no small amount of imagination to think of a few various ways debt was collected. “Thanks for sending her my way, we made a pretty awesome team. It’s nice having someone at my back.” She said sincerely, her voice softening. “Seriously, thank you.”

The nearest patrons looked on with interest now, unabashedly listening curiosity winning out over their manners. One such patron was the hunched profile of clearly elderly man, he kept his back turned sipping on his mulled wine, ponytail of greyed hair tied high and pockets full of carbondust, listening.

“We did more than just that though.” Charlie said.

”She’s right,” Madalena added, removing the folder from a side compartment on her duffel bag. ”We took advantage of the chaos outside the Hound base and managed to pull a file on,” she lowered her voice, ”you know who. It has a list of known associates, contact information on suppliers, cities where the Court is stationed, and the General’s operations over the past five months. We’ve got him, and with the Hounds out of commission, he’ll be scrambling to regain numbers.”

Puck’s grin grew wider, but his eyes looked grim. ”A wonderful development in our plans, truly, but I must advise caution. Until the General and his subordinates lie cold in the ground or have their foul heads severed and left to rot on spikes, we cannot underestimate them. It was our hubris that saw their eventual return. But do not mistake my words as cause for immediate concern. You have earned an evening’s rest, from this task at least. Leave me these documents and I will draft our next course of action.”

Madalena nodded, handing Puck the folder without hesitation.

”Has the General contacted you in light of earlier proceedings? I have been informed by a . . . let’s call her an associate, that Phoebus is dead, and fortunately, there were a few casualties on the opposite side.”

”He sent a text early this morning, told us he’d be in touch. Not much else.”

Unconsciously, Charlie rubbed at her neck imagining the thought of severed heads eyes flicking up at Puck then back down at the ground, “You got it. A day off then back to work.”

A momentary pause before she grinned, “What’s on tap?”

Puck grinned, waltzing behind the bar and pulling down a few choice selections.

”My dear, anything your heart desires. Every shelf is top shelf, you need but pick your poison, as they say. I pride myself on selection. Perhaps a fine red from an Italian monastery that burned down in 1325, or cider from a brewery said to be run by the goddess Idunn, keeper of the apples. I also have absinthe imported from Faerie, if you have more eclectic tastes.”

Charlie rubbed her chin thinking of something far out, she just wanted a beer but when was the next time she’d get to taste something a divine orchard? “I’d like to try that Indunn cider please.”

Taking an empty seat at the bar, Charlie smiled at Maddi for her to take the vacant seat beside her. The wood was polished to a beautiful sheen, the chairs leather padded seats. The patrons nearby who had been listening on shuffled behind Charlie, to both sides down the bar the questions began.

“Hey, you kids were at Sherman last night?” One asked.

Another patron commented, “We saw you on tv.”

“That storm knocked the news helicopter around.”

“What about that bat? It was huge!”

Charlie grinned, blushing. “Yeah, that was us.”

Maddi and Charlie both received pats on their backs, various thank you’s, offers to buy them their next round of drinks.

Down the line the elderly man, sour faced huffed as he pushed away from the bar moving away from the revelry.

The sickly-skinned imp poured Charlie a glass, sliding across the bar before turning to Madalena, who shook her head, uninterested in a drink.

”About taking on contracts,” Madalena said, looking up at Puck, adjacent to Charlie and Maddi.

”Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Puck interrupted. ”You have yet to complete the task given to you last night. The offer yet stands, but I cannot, in good faith, entrust a contract to you until your trial ends in success, nor can I offer any further insight on the matter. It wouldn’t be much of a test if I gave you all the answers, would it?”

Madalena sighed and shook her head. ”No, I didn’t think so. Well we’re close, should be done in another day with how effectively we work, right Charlie?’

Charlie laughed, “Soundin’ real familiar right now.” Taking a sip of the cider, “Easily another day and we’ll be done.” She agreed, confidently.

The cider was dry and on the secondary sip it felt like her taste buds exploded with the flavour, causing her to cough into her fist. Skeptically looking at the glass, “Okay, I gotta know what’s in this.”

Unbeknownst to the newly annointed pair, at the door appeared a trio of with similar purpose to The Alchemyst and Lady Hex, paying the The Red Devil’s Proprietor a visit. The Ambassador stood at the entrance removing her sunglasses, smoothing down the length of her white dress eyes taking in the opulent sight.

Odette’s eye passed over the patrons, over the stage - Bach whispered the song and seemed to know it as his foot began to tap to the beat jumping from her shoulder down to the ground shooting up to his full size. He immediately recognized someone and went to say hello a strangely small group of sprites sitting at an appropriately sized table. The decor, ambience, the cozy yet elegant design was simply beautiful. Eyes found Puck next, nodding a smile that did not reach her eyes. Behind Odette came the impressively large form of Mandate, sans her enchantment. Floorboards creaked, red cyclopean eye taking in the new sights with her visible ‘v’ shaped smile. She shuffled the best she could beside the door frame instructed to stay at the entrance.

“This is certainly far more than what I imagined.” She said.

”Right, it’s your first time here,” Marie replied, leading Odette down a row of tables to the bar, ”well here it is, The Red Devil, my home away from home for almost two years. I’d actually started to miss it. How does it suit you?”

Odette’s hand trailed along a polished table, “I can see why it is a popular spot for various creatures and practitioners. I like it.” She pointed, “It does not seem we have very far to go to find Monsieur Goodfellow.”

“It would be rude not to say hello.”

Puck looked up from the bar, sighting two more familiar faces. He excused himself from his current guests, sauntering over to Marie and Odette.

”How fortuitous,” his hollow voice bounced off tables, echoing even among the crowded speech of the tavern’s patrons. ”Marie, Lady Ambassador, welcome.” he bowed.

”You’ve arrived much sooner than expected. Did the Hudson Wyrd not offer any additional insight into your unique predicaments?”

Marie glared at him, arms folded. ”A vague warning, if it was a warning. You said you’d have answers for us, so please stop giving us the runaround and tell us what we need to know.”

”Marie,” Holt spoke up, jumping onto her shoulder in the form of an ethereal raven. ”calm yourself.”

Answering his question in turn, while she had little patience for Puck himself she could hardly ignore the proper greeting, “Bonjour, Monsieur Goodfellow. The Hudson Wyrd gave us a warm welcome and a little insight. Neither of us have had time to fully consider quite yet. We should continue in private preferably.” touching Marie’s other shoulder.

Charlie’s eyes tracked curiously to who Puck spoke to, the newest patrons fashionable and looking at the very least uptight. What did catch her attention was the massive tower of mercury at the door, elbowing Maddi she pointed, “Check out the huge golem.

Charlie caught the red cyclopean eye, the weight of Mandate’s attention on her now. It immediately unsettled the alchemist, chilling down her spine and sending off warning signals instincts drawing conclusions before she was aware. She shifted in her seat breaking eye contact, Mandate’s eye continued to burrow into her back.

Madalena turned to the doorway, eying the impressive golem. She’d read a little about their creation from some Kabbalistic texts Puck kept in his office, but she didn’t understand the theory enough to attempt magic of that caliber. Her eyes trailed over to Puck, curious to see who was occupying his attention. Madalena almost overlooked her, but a second glance confirmed her suspicions.

”Marie?” she called out, jumping off the barstool and speeding over to Puck, dodging pushed out chairs and patrons. ”Marie, it’s you right?” her voice picked up, peeking from behind Puck to find Marie Heartford standing, arms crossed, eyes wide.

”M-Madalena?” Marie stuttered, mouth agape. Before she could let out another sound, Madalena rushed forward, wrapping Marie in a tight embrace that nearly knocked the wind out of her. Marie searched for an explanation, in shock of her rather mundane friend’s presence in The Red Devil of all places.

”What are you doing here?”

”Ah yes,” Puck interjected, placing a hand proudly on Madalena’s right shoulder. ”I mentioned a new witch in service to The Red Devil. This is she, Madalena Hawthorne.”

”Or Lady Hex,” Madalena excitedly trailed his comment, ”I’d been looking for an excuse to use that name and I finally got my chance. Isn’t it exciting, Marie?”

Marie remained stunned, mouth agape, silent.

Charlie came up beside Maddi holding her drink and pointing to Marie, “Who’s this? Name’s Charlie, er I mean Alchemyst.” Charlie introduced herself, hand out to Marie.

Some of the patrons laughed behind her, “Seriously kid?”

Charlie ignored them. “Whichever is fine.”

The Ambassador ran a skeptical eye up and down both Madelana and Charlie. Keeping her hands folded as Charlie offered hers, making no move to shake it. The casual introduction, shabbily dressed pair drew some quick conclusions for the sorceress, “I presume you know one another. Do you need a moment, Marie?”

Marie took Charlie’s hand, looking between she, Madalena, and Puck.

”So you work here now?” Marie questioned Madalena, who nodded in response with a wide grin. Marie turned to Puck.

”You’re unbelievable, you know that.” Marie said in frustration, ”I can’t believe you would go behind my back and recruit one of my friends, wait, actually I can believe it and it’s just as ridiculous. What were you thinking?”

Odette grinned behind her hand, ready to watch the argument about to unfold.

”You, my dear, were unavailable. I needed someone to head my efforts against The Winter Court, and our good Lady Hex was a perfect fit. You recommended her to me, lest you had forgotten.”

”No,” she quickly rebutted, ”no I did not. I mentioned her, in passing, after her store was robbed a couple months ago. That doesn’t give you the right to pull her into your mess and-”

”Her is right here,” Madalena interrupted, moving closer to Marie. ”and I thought you would be happy for me, why are you so upset? I wasn’t forced into anything.”

Charlie frowned about to jump to Maddi’s defence, Marie responded.

Marie sighed, taking Madalena’s hand. ”I’m . . . I’m not mad or unhappy for you, Madalena, I’m just surprised. I mean, I never knew this was something you wanted to be a part of.”

”Are you kidding? Marie, ever since I found out about The White Witch, I became even more interested in all of this. Real, genuine magic, traditional witchcraft. You inspired me to keep studying, made me want to practice. If this wasn’t what I wanted, I wouldn’t have signed Puck’s contract.”

Marie took another moment. She looked into Madalena’s eyes and saw the fire, the freedom that she’d felt the first time she met the Bucca as a child, the ecstasy she’d felt among the witches of Lost Haven, of El Paso, of Salem. Finally, she smiled.

”Then . . . welcome to the club, I guess.” she conceded, pulling Madalena in for a another hug.

“You’re the White Witch? Shit, I remember reading about you in the news and hearing your name among the big metas. They still don’t take us seriously but whatever right? Bigger fish to fry like the Winter Court.” Charlie said her frown disappearing.

Odette couldn’t hide her upturned lip of disgust at the alchemist’s language. “Witch Hunters masquerading under the name of the Winter Court is despicable as were the Hounds.”

“As… lovely as this little reunion is we have business to attend to.”

Charlie made a face at the sorceress, “Chill out, what’s the hurry?”

Odette levelled an icy gaze onto the alchemist and Charlie met it without flinching.

”As much as I want to catch up,” Marie spoke up, diffusing a tense situation, ”the Ambassador of the Fair Folk and I do need to speak with Puck. It’s a long story and I’d love to fill you in, especially now that you’re involved. Raincheck?”

Madalena nodded. ”I’m holding you to that,” she replied, patting Marie’s shoulder before returning to her place at the bar. Charlie followed after squinting at their backs but let it go as she returned to her drink.

Time: Noon, One Month Ago
Location: Location: The Red Devil, Lost Haven

---

Puck put on his signature grin. ”Well, if you two insist, please, follow me to my office. I am sure you have no shortage of questions.” he led them up the stairs to the third floor, down a long corridor full of offices with ornate plaques donating their owners. At the end, etched in gold, was the office of Robin Goodfellow. Puck graciously opened the door and allowed Marie and Odette to step through.

Puck followed close behind, taking his seat and motioning for his guests to do the same. Folding his hand and placing them on his desk, which was surprisingly free of clutter, he nodded at them.

”What seems to be first on our agenda?”

Odette sat after Puck took a seat, folding her dress underneath her flicking her fingers across to smooth it out, back straight. “’Our?’ Curious, you have had your hands in the thick of this far longer than either of us knew. We have found out more of Gwyneth and you Monsieur Goodfellow along the way. Our sights have set on the next location of one of Gwyneth’s possessions. We believe you could be of help.” She said, tone sweeter than honey, eyes icy as ever. “Your niece has some questions however.”

”After your meeting with Od . . .“ Marie almost slipped, clearing her throat to correct herself, ”The Ambassador, you knew about my connection to Mab. What does it mean? And you and your brothers being sons of Mab, I can’t believe I never knew! Why isn’t that talked about? Hell, it’s not even written in any lore aside from some obscure wood carvings owned by witches in Salem.”

The Ambassador remained silent as Marie corrected herself, her name in the hands of Puck would be disastrous. She chewed at the inside of her cheek relieved the conversation carried on.

Puck chuckled, ”Yes, the Essex Wyrd and their Andover predecessors were privy to a wealth of ancient lore due to their early allegiance to Mab, who, as you now know, is my mother, and mother to all Pwca, all Imps, a caste of beings borne from my brothers and I. As my mother, and as your grandmother, that does, in fact, make me your ‘uncle’ if we must label ourselves as such. But as you know, especially you, Lady Ambassador, familial ties between Fey, Spirits, Demons, and the like are more fluid and conceptual than binding and concrete.

“To save you the trouble of asking, no, I was unaware of this connection upon our initial interaction. I was drawn to you by our mutual friend, rest his soul, and what came after was a pleasant surprise.”

Odette grinned with amusement, “Oui. How the branches of a family tree can twist.”

Removing her cellphone, not receiving a single bar of reception - as expected - she opened her photos to show Puck the wooden carving Maryann had showed them in Salem. “We believe the next possession of Gwyneth to be with the former Queen Mab, there is an explicit connection between them. The spirit that inhabits Salem’s sacred grounds revealed as much including the vision that showed us Gwyneth’s ancestry.”

“She has not been seen for centuries,” Odette watched Puck’s expression as she spoke, trying to gauge him. “Rumours have naturally grown from her missing years, that she finds favour among the Unseelie isolating herself from the Summer Courts she once called her home. Whisps and clues, if anyone were to have a solid lead to her whereabouts it would possibly be you, Monsieur Goodfellow.”

It was clear to The Ambassador that Puck had vested interest in Marie and the recovery of her soul, it was clear ever since he gladly exchanged notes and wrote the contract on behalf of Gwyneth. It was just as likely a possibility that he did not care to know of his mother, many faerie paid little mind to their origins as parental figures. Humans and fae diverged quite dramatically at that point on, relationships to home and family were as Puck said, entirely different concepts to Faerie and other spirits. Something that Odette struggled to understand when she was first made aware of Faerie.

The Imps were not faerie, the fact they could name Puck’s mother was extraordinary. It begged the question, what kind of relationship did he have with Queen Mab if any at all?

“None are quite as savvy with information as you are, nor mix so generously with various threads.” She said spreading her hands open, flattery to intelligence went a long way and her antagonistic approach with Puck never resulted in anything but a headache. “If you have any leads to Mab, we will gladly pay for it.”

”She resides in Faerie,” Puck offered dryly, tapping his claws on the desk while leaning back in his chair, face unmoving. ”I have not spoken to Mab in centuries; she became distant after her flight from the Summer Court. As you know, she briefly set up residence in the New World before returning home. I only know this by way of my brothers, only two of whom have remained in contact with mother dearest. We held a summit in Cornwall several seasons past, the Bucca, Herne, and myself. The Hunter regularly returns to Faerie with the Wild Hunt, passing over Tir na nOg. According to Herne, former Queen Mab has carved a place for herself on the island, exactly where I cannot say.”

Puck leaned forward, cold, black irises scanning the Ambassador. ”Tell me, Lady Ambassador,” he said cooly, subtle curiosity forming in his eyes and the edge of his grin, ”What do you know of Tir na nOg and the Tuatha De?”

“Aos Si.” Odette breathed, “I know as well as anyone, faerie’s heroes, kings and queens. Children of Danu. Tir na nOg, Isle of the Young settled by the Tuatha de Dannan.” She said, leaning a little forward as well, her eyes found Marie’s “A plane unique to the Fey.”

“Incredibly difficult to enter or gain favour to be invited. No mortal crosses the threshold and has ever returned.Who would return to life after finding paradise beyond the stars?” She said, templing her finger tips in thought. “It would explain why no one else has seen Former Queen Mab in such a long time.”

“The Wild Hunt. . . It passes over Tir na nOg?” Curious, threads sprouting from what Puck had shared.

”But of course, where did you assume those lost souls taken up by the hunt went? Some join the hunt, those who are strong of will, but those who choose to flee instead of pursue are often transformed into beasts of prey, forever fleeing for the Hunter’s amusement. And, perhaps this was unknown to you, Tir na nOg is the Hunter’s home. I have seen it, of course, but my time in Faerie was spent among the courts, not lavishing with the Tuatha on their island of bliss.”

Marie’s eyes widened. ”Are you saying that your brother is a member of the Tuatha?”

Puck laughed. ”Were he so lucky. No, my dear, Herne is but the child of the Tuatha. They amuse themselves with his company on occasion; he is perhaps the fiercest hunter in Faerie, but nothing more. Mab, however, is Tuatha, a child of the goddess Danu, personification of the land, Tir na nOg, but one would never know it by what few historical texts exist regarding her importance. She counts herself among the spirits borne when the stars fell from the heavens, bound to the earth, envigored by the celestial blood let from giants, if you believe the old stories.”

Odette sat back in her chair with that revelation, Queen Mab was more than simple nobility. “Comment cela pourrait être possible?” She said in a whisper, “This… this will take time to prepare for-” she gestured with a wave of her hand, brow furrowing in thought. “Which item could she have been entrusted with. . .”

Groping for her phone off of Puck’s desk she scrolled through her notes. “It could be anyone of them.” She waved the thought away, turning fully in her seat to face Marie, “What is clear is that we need to get to Tir na nOg to find Former Queen Mab. Ambitious a goal as it is to aspire to visit, it will be another to meet with Former Queen Mab.”

“Our way there is to join the Wild Hunt.” She said her smile was small and her eyes glittered with ambition. “No other mortal could hope to accomplish what we set to do, Marie.”

”And it’s not impossible either,” Marie jumped up in excitement, rushing over to a shelf at the corner of Puck’s office, opening a glass cabinet to reveal a collection of old tomes, medieval by ware on the spines. Puck looked on in amusement.

”Here,” she announced, producing an original copy of the Malleus Maleficarum from the shelf, opening to an old illustration of witches flying to the sabbath. ”Misguided as Kramer was, he managed to dig up some fairly decent lore. Look, witches have flown with the Wild Hunt at different points in history, in fact it was hilariously common in Germany. There are a few locations around Europe where the Hunt is said to begin. Maybe I can dig up some old ritual to speak with the Hunter while you look for possible dates?”

Odette nodded, “That would be relatively easy to research.” She stood from her seat to look over the book. Without jumping to far into their next phase in planning Odette said to Puck, “What do we owe you for today?”

“If it is another prophetic vision I will not leave until we negotiate something else.” She said dryly.

”Actually, I would like to speak with you, Lady Ambassador.” Puck turned to Marie, ”Alone, if you wouldn’t mind. You should take the time to reacquaint yourself with Lady Hex.”

Marie looked between Puck and Odette. ”Umm, sure. I’ll be downstairs. We can talk about the specifics when you’re finished.” Marie set down the book, walking to the door and closing it behind her. Puck waited until her footsteps disappeared.

”There is a matter I wish to discuss with you, Lady Ambassador, one that I believe is uniquely suited to your talents and connections. I would like to employ your services in retrieving something for me.”

Her imagination ran wild, what could Puck need of her that he could not send one of his dozens of contracted witches out to do the same? “I am listening.” She made her way back to the chair, sitting. “I know you can afford me for an errand or two.” Smiling before it disappeared, “What is it that you want and what are you willing to pay me with?”

Puck looked grim. ”A grave threat to our kind, those who move among the shadows, night’s black agents, denizens of the Otherworld, of Faerie and its accompanying realms, has been allowed to return to prominence. You know of The Winter Court, but I fear none but those who remember their cruelty can understand the power they hold. The Hounds of Humanity were but pawns in the Witchfinder’s crusade against witchery and its ilk. As we speak, a plan is being set in motion to destroy the Court, but I need a weapon more powerful than simple magic alone.

“Something forged in Faerie, hidden there for centuries. In exchange for its retrieval, I offer you the answer to your questions, not a prophecy or portent, but the truth, in its entirety. Three questions, I will grant you, over past, present, or future, and if it is within my power, I will answer them honestly, without deception.”

Odette folded her hands over her lap, “That is quite the task and reward. I understand what The Winter Court is capable of I saw the results of Pixy Stix with my own eyes.”

She chewed at the inside of her cheek in thought, “. . .How, how big is The Winter Court that it would need more than a combined effort to rid ourselves of them once again? What power do they contain to strike fear in you and Hekate?”

She amended after a beat, “They certainly threaten the greater livelihood of everyone they hate but they aim to destroy the status quo that allows faerie and spirit to exist as we do in its chaotic balance with humans on the edge of the periphery.”

Puck stood from his desk, removing an ornate urn from a shelf on the back wall. He set it in front of Odette such that the plaque on the front was visible. “Joseph Mathers.”

”There are ways of hurting me, Lady Ambassador, that are not physical. It is rare that I . . . that I feel sadness, fear, despair, but the Court threatens to destroy all that I have built, even if it cannot destroy me. The same holds true for the Witch Mother, and my brothers, and others like us. We have a claim on this world, many of us were here first, and we will not be displaced by filth.” Puck’s words were dripping with venom.

”The Court once had the power to make witches betray their coven mates and divulge secrets, the power to strip them of their gifts, the power to mortally wound beings nearly as old as I. That was in the Dark Ages. I implore you to imagine what feats they might accomplish with the ingenuity of the modern world.”

Eyes drifted from the plaque to the urn, staring at it. Easily remembering the night when Joseph Mathers died by her hand. One body in a line of them that stubbornly refused to fade from memory and relevance. It would only be a matter of time before she met a similar fate, as the prophecy foretold ashes awaited her as it did Joseph.

No., she thought.

Understanding chilled her down to the marrow of her bones. “It is easy to forget sometimes what stakes there are.”

Taking a deep breath in, her eyes torn away from the urn. “You have a deal, Monsieur Goodfellow.” She stood up, Puck easily towering over her she brought her hand up to shake. “I will retrieve the weapon in exchange for three truthful answers to my questions.”

Puck took her hand, shaking it while maintaining eye contact. ”As a show of good faith,” he said, retrieving a piece of parchment from beneath his desk, ”I will provide you with the knowledge of the weapon.”

The paper depicted a worn drawing of a dagger, not quite as ornate as one might expect for a weapon forged in Faerie. The blade was short and slightly curved, of ceremonial design. The hilt was a collection of vines or branches, etched with old Fey markings that matched a small scabbard.

”It is known as the Fomorian Blade, a weapon wrought in the earliest days of Faerie. It has taken me centuries to piece together this much of the legend, but perhaps Bach has heard of its mystery. As the story goes, a faery midwife was entrusted with the delivery of a human child to her mistress, a noble in one of the outer courts. The transition for mortal children to feary is easiest when taken early, so the midwife believed a newborn would be best. She emerged in a dense wood and asked a flock of nightingales to listen for the cries of a woman in labor. Three days passed until her spies reported the location of an expecting mother, a few hours into labor. Upon her arrival, the faery took the form of the woman’s midwife and helped deliver the child. The faery had seen the birth of mortals before, but had never taken part. She thought it sad that her mistress couldn’t experience birth as mortals did.

“What happens next is unclear, as one source describes the faery midwife leaving the child with its mother, and another says the child died in the midwife’s arms. In both cases, however, the midwife returns to Faerie without a human child, instead seeking the wisdom of a Fomorian witch. The witch told the midwife that there might indeed be a way to bless her mistress with a child of her own, one who would bond with its mother the way mortal children did. The witch traveled with the midwife to earth, taking with her the bark from a tree in her home and he skin of a holy beast. She enchanted a blacksmith, commanding him to forge a blade of iron.

“When asked why by the faery, the witch suggested that the marriage of the two worlds, iron from our world and pieces from theirs, would create a powerful weapon. At first, the faery didn’t understand her role, nor did she understand why a weapon would be the key to providing her mistress with a child. Soon after the blade was finished, the wood hand been worked into a hilt, the skin into a scabbard, the witch took the blade and stabbed the blacksmith, who bled out, and the faery, who was poisoned by the iron blade. With their blood, the witch inscribed an enchantment onto the blade’s hilt and scabbard, then returned to Faerie. Finding the midwife’s former mistress asleep, the witch took the blade and waved it over the noble. As a test, the witch then pricked the noble’s thumb. The noble woman awoke, affronted by the intrusion and fearful of the iron on her skin. But much to her surprise, she wasn’t poisoned. Instead, the blade had imparted the noble with mortality, relieving her of her faery weaknesses.

“Not much else is known about this story or how it ended, but it seems that the blade was used in early wars between the Fomorians and Tuatha until finding itself in the care of an order of knights belonging to the Vernal Court. The blade, unable to be destroyed, was separated into three pieces and entrusted to a different noble family. I need you to locate these knights, coerce them, somehow, into relinquishing their pieces of the blade, and return it to me.”

Odette stared at Puck, the blade being created out of Fomorian hands meant it was cursed by mortal and faerie blood in its creation used in an ancient war. “This blade can remove a faerie’s immortality?” She stood abruptly, “Why would you want to bring a weapon like that back together? If it is safeguarded in pieces then it should remain there forever. What use is it against The Winter Court?”

Grimacing, hand against her temple. She just agreed to retrieve it, such a amatuer mistake. “Merde, Monsieur.”

”Because not only can it remove a faery’s immortality, Lady Ambassador, it can remove a human’s mortality. It can make them fey. The Witchfinder and his Court are forever surrounded and equipped with weapons that poison witches and sorcerers, ward against their spells, expel fey and spirit alike. Imagine what a single knick from that blade could do, how their entire arsenal could be turned against them, beginning with those iron crosses they wear about their necks.”

Blinking and looking away her hand came down to cover her mouth, the implications of such a weapon immediately clear. Swallowing she spoke quietly, “I see. They would become what they loathe, visiting not only victory but poetic justice.”

“They would be undone by such a thing.”

Her heart thumped away in her chest, such a way existed for her all this time to join Faerie properly and completely. No more would she be mocked for her mortality. Looking back to Puck she thought, I want it.

Her hand dropped back to her side, finding the strap of her purse to hold. “May I have this?” She referred to the drawing of the Fomorian Blade. “While I retrieve it for you.”

Puck nodded with a grin. ”But of course. There is something else about the blade you should know. It cannot be stolen. It must be passed to a new wielder willingly by the previous and accepted by the new, which is why you are the perfect fit. You have established trust with the various courts, picked up their tricks. I am certain you can retrieve the blade.”

Puck walked around his desk and placed a hand on the Ambassador’s shoulder, kneeling down and placing his face close to hers, moving to her ear. ”But be reminded that all deals made with me are binding, Ambassador. Return the blade, receive your answers. And to answer a question you have yet to ask, I know not what I intend to do with the blade once my business with the Witchfinder is done. Perhaps I will entrust it to someone worthy of its power, someone whose fate is yet uncertain.”

Her breath caught and she closed her eyes. Momentarily believing his suggestion.

He stood, waltzing over to the door to his office and gesturing to the hall outside. ”Now, why don’t you enjoy a drink with Marie. Make some new friends, or contacts at the least. You have all earned it.”

Gently rolling up the drawing and storing it safely into her purse. “Until we meet again, Monsieur Goodfellow.” Schooling her expression with difficulty to mask the coiling excitement in her belly. “We will have our hard work cut out for us.”

As she passed him heading out the door she briefly bowed her head respectfully then exited, the clack of her heels sounding off as she walked rejoining with Marie, Bach, and the revelry of The Red Devil.

---

Time: 10 Years Ago - November
Location: Paris, France

The wooden vanity’s paint was chipped, a dulled mint green. The mirror scratched from being moved one too many times by careless hands, wreathed around the mirror was blooming red roses with a string of little white lights giving life to the old piece of furniture. Removing a pair of earrings in the reflection was Odette Favre, humming as she was winding down for the evening having completed her routine full body stretches. Still dressed in her leotards, sharp clear lines of a large tattoo visible on her back depicting that of a Yew Tree, a tattoo she received a fair amount of complaints from her ballet mistress, Madame Renavand. Long mousey blonde hair released from a tight bun, shook loose and free falling down past her shoulder blades.

She moved onto the little mason jar of homemade makeup remover cotton balls, removing the day’s foundation and eyeliner, rubbing away the mascara. Just behind her in the small bedroom was Bach sitting on the edge of her bed, chin in his hand.

“It is your birthday tomorrow.” He said in Common Fey, they had been practicing the language in conversations. Odette groaned as she heard what he said, taking a few extra moments to translate in her mind.

“Yes, tomorrow is a day of. . .” She stumbled, “Anniversary?”

“Almost.” He replied in French. “Birthday is not a word that necessarily exists for Faerie.” Patient, gently chiding. “What is your birthday wish, My Lady?”

She returned to her vanity, responding in a light breezy fashion, “Not to hear another faerie word for the entire day.” Sticking out her tongue at Bach in the reflection her smile infectious. “I haven’t thought of what I want. Your gifts are always what I need.”

He nodded, “Indeed, but I thought this year we could celebrate somewhere special.” Picking up the hairbrush and beginning to brush through her hair, her favourite by far and the most beautiful thing to be found on her vanity. Soft natural bristles, the paddle was a heavy silver enchanted to detangle gently. A spell she worked on for weeks to cast correctly. Her vanity was organized by rubber bands, old glassware and ziplock bags her makeup collection scrounged on savings.

“Where in Paris have we not already gone?” Odette asked patting away at her lip, removing lipstick.

“You must think beyond the city limits, My Lady.” He replied. “We are going to open a portal to Faerie, it is time you have seen them for your own eyes.”

Odette’s mouth popped open in surprise quickly turning into a brilliant smile. “Oh! Are you serious?” She hopped up and gave him a hug squeezing tightly under his arms she stopped short leaning away to speak, realisation overcoming her. “If I make a portal it’ll mean I’ll be spending my birthday in bed asleep. I’m getting better but I-I’m still drained after making one.”

He smiled brushing hair out of her face as he spoke, affectionately, “That is why we will go tonight and awake tomorrow to enjoy the day fully.”

Her smile returned in full force she let him go and went into her tiny closet to change from her leotards to her clothing, black leggings and a skirt with an old pink sports jacket, run down sneakers and a t-shirt with the iconic albeit faded picture of the sugar plum fairy with the date of the production printed beneath it. She packed a small bag with her pyjamas. Zipping around the room gathering what she would need, Bach chuckled at her enthusiasm. She quickly mussed her hair into place bending over in the mirror, standing back upright ready to go right then and there.

“We’ll have to sneak out, your parents are still awake.”

“Too easy.” She said.

Bach shrunk down landing on her shoulder, nodding. Odette opened her door slowly, having oiled the hinges for the exact purpose to sneak out quietly. Tristan and Perenelle Favre often too absorbed in their work to really notice her moving around but their ears were sharp when they heard movement in the small apartment.

Carefully following the steps she had done dozens of times before, avoiding the telltale creaks in the floorboards gracefully. Ballet dancers being the very definition of light on their feet, Odette was no exception. She passed by their makeshift study and office, they turned one of the storage spaces into a private area away from the living room and kitchen. Stacked along the walls were banker boxes filled with research materials, samples, and paper. The door was cracked open and light spilled out into the darkened hallway.

They hardly left the study all day, Odette could tell as much when the saran wrapped dinner plates in the fridge hadn’t been touched. As she snuck past she overheard them talking.

“What day is it today?” She heard her mother ask.

Her father hummed in thought checking his calendar, “The 14th-”

“Ah! It is our little swan’s birthday tomorrow, Tristan. We have all this data to go through yet. . . and our deadline is coming up by the end of the week.” Odette made a face at the nickname. “What should we do?”

“We’ll have to finish cataloguing the samples before we even think about her birthday, did you pick up a cake?” He asked.

Her mother sighed, “No, I thought you did.”

Together they sighed and together they resounded, “Tomorrow.”

Perenelle said firmly, “Tomorrow we’ll do something special.”

An all too familiar promise, Odette knew they would likely forget. Their forgetful nature and focus stopped hurting her feelings years ago when there was nothing to do to change their work ethic. She frowned moving on after they continued to chatter about what they were working on.

Bach whispered, “Worry not My Lady, I would never forget.”

Odette smiled appreciatively at his sentiment, whispering back when she reached the front door, “You never forget anything.” Slowly unlocking the door, the latch always the loudest in her ears. She waited for a beat then pulled open the door to slide through to the other side using her key to lock the door.

Safely outside the door, she walked fast down the hallway, the carpet was worn down and thin, light fixtures filled with dead bugs. She went down double time the cement stairs, nearly skipping with excitement Bach held on the best he could. Dashing past mousetraps, dusty steps and even a couple other tenants who she said a quick Bonjour! to as she passed them.

She dashed out the door and onto the street, her neighbourhood was thankfully out of the general scope and eye of tourism but for the very same reason it was a pain to commute to the Opera House every day. Charonne wasn’t a terrible place to be raised in, it was old much like most districts of Paris and they lived in the shadow of Saint-Jean-Basco’s Catholic church, literally.

Odette went at a fast paced walk, heading for the cemetery.

When they arrived they took a sharp right turn down the rows of tombstones. Having been there plenty of times before to practice her newly acquainted magical abilities. The youthful sorceress plopped her backpack to the ground, Bach resumed his original size. The pair alone except for the odd will-o-wisp guiding souls through the darkness, crossing over the graves.

Stepping behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. Odette began to concentrate, shutting out all thoughts of her day, of her excitement and the chilling November air rustling her hair. He whispered in her ear where they were going, what to picture and encouraged her to use their connection to find it.



She spoke knowingly, proudly having written the incantation herself to call out to the Arcane Stream.

Wispy tips of magic formed around her fingertips, she repeated the incantation for nearly an hour before the stream began to split, welcoming her and rewarding her for her diligence. Sweat dripped from her chin, blood dripped from her nose as the door began to form, her arms shook with exhaustion. As the door neared completion she dropped to her knees when the shiny golden knob appeared as a finished portal.

“Come now, My Lady. You must keep your eyes open to close the door, we are almost there.” He lifted under her armpits, slinging her over his shoulder to carry. Opening the door to the faerie realms. She laboured to close the door behind them, groping at the handle. A firm grip, Bach moved them to close the door.

On the other side of the door they stepped into a beautiful meadow, flowers in bloom surrounded by foliage and trees. The portal disappeared, nighttime embraced them. Little lights emanating from sprites danced into her blurry eyes, she focused on the tiny fey having never seen so many in one place before. Pushing herself up with some difficulty she peered around, using Bach as a crutch. “Très belle.”

Behind them was a magnificent, old, Yew tree. Bach carried her to the entrance of the tree, his palm pressed against the bark he spoke in a strange language, different from Common Fey, “It has been some time, my friend.”

The door opened of it’s own volition. Bach carried his apprentice inside, the hallowed tree had meagre comforts - a bed made of leaves and base cotton. A basin made of polished wood jutted out of the wall, dry. A wicker basket meant for fruit, other food as well - it sat empty by the bed.

He pulled a cloth free from his lapel and dabbed her face dry. “Sleep, My Lady. You are in Faerie now.”

Her eyelids grew heavier and she fell asleep.

---

Awaking to the sound of a light bell ringing, sunlight creeping up over the window sill, Odette pushed up from the bed rubbing at her eye remembering where she was, digging into her pack she grabbed some food from home and ate diligently looking through the window out into the meadow. Short distance away from the door she burst through, colour was everywhere, the air was sweet as was the sight. Odette slipped out of her shoes, flexing her toes in the grass. It was everything she dreamed it to be.

Odette saw Bach in the meadow dancing as he did, music greeted her. She shrugged off her jacket big blue eyes wide with wonder. Tears gathered at her eyes, unable to hold back any longer.

“Happy Birthday, My Lady.”

He took her hand and they danced in circles, skipping from one foot to the next. Smiling endlessly, carefree. Sprites and Seelie alike came attracted by the laughter and song joining them. No form, Odette danced as she felt, little brownies danced uptop toadstools, earth sprites spun in the air their crowns of dandelions and spindly wooden arms and legs moving with grace.

When collapsing for a break, Odette stared up into the blue sky huffing as she took a break. Bach laid down beside her, began weaving in and out of a story dropping in phrases of common fey but translating shortly after. The story of a mortal woman who married a noble faery prince, finding paradise as she discovered the world behind the veil.

“I’ll never regret this, Bach.” She said finally as the moments of quiet after he finished his story. “I’ll never regret this life you’ve given me, my friend.”

Bach smiled, squinting up at the sky. “I could not ask a better human to spend a few decades with than you.” He said, “It will not be easy to bring the Fair Folk back to Earth.”

Odette nodded solemnly, “I made a deal and I don’t break it. We need allies to make a big portal and I need to be a better spell caster.”

He perked up proudly at that, “I do not say it enough but you have come along so quickly in six months.”

She grinned, “Better than any that have tried before?”

“The best perhaps.” He replied matching her grin.

They fell into a comfortable silence after a snicker.

She sat back up and earthy sprites gathered at the crown of her head, whispering in common fey, Odette didn’t feel confident enough to respond but listened to them talk. They wondered who they were, intrigued by her mortality and began to play through her hair tickling her scalp. The day stretched into the evening, passing by the sun a giant stag walked with the sunset. Nibbling at some of the food she packed Odette took a seat by the giant glowing blue toadstool that Bach erected. She wondered idly how anyone would want to return to the city when everything felt perfect as it was here.

She yawned, at the edge of the meadow she saw a small stature of a figure none of the fey that joined them that day resembled the stocky profile. “I’m just going to stretch my legs.” She said to Bach and he waved continuing his story.

Tracking over through the field to the edge the figure did not budge when she approached. Looking over her shoulder to Bach, feeling a bit of confidence to approach a faerie on her own. Remembering everything she was taught, manners mattered. The light from his pipe illuminated his face and closer now Odette recognized him as a Faun, short stocky pair of hairy goat legs and a human torso standing at least two heads shorter than Odette. His horns easily added an extra foot to his height, ears pointed but relaxed. His hair was long, thick curly hair and what little light could afford to see to Odette was a light chestnut brown. Small flowers lingered in the strands. His chin a little rough with some facial hair, thin lips and mischief clear as day in his dark eyes. Whatever he smoked lingered in the air around them and left bitter notes. She attempted to greet him in Common Fey, “Good morning.”

“You’d be right if it was in fact, morning.” The Satyr said dryly, looking up at the sky and shrugging, he spoke in French fluently to Odette’s surprise. “Clearly you need some work.”

“I am working on it,” She replied defensively. “It’s not an easy language, how do you know how to speak French?”

The Faun laughed, “Earthen elves aren’t the only masters of language, keeping secrets as they do.”

Odette looked over her shoulder at Bach, “They keep more than that.”

He stared at her, his gaze withering almost making Odette look away but she held her eye contact. “What do you want-”

He cut her off, “What did you mean when you said you would never regret this life given to you?”

Caught off guard by the question, she took a moment to think. “I meant I’ll never regret my experiences with the Fair Folk and magic.”

“A novice spellcaster but also naive, completely expected for apparently a human considered to be an adult as of today if I heard correctly.” He replied sauntering closer to the meadow, Odette stepped away giving him more space than needed. “I won’t hurt you, I simply want you to use your big dumb brain to apply some critical thought.”

Odette frowned, “Critical thought to what?”

“To your mentor, I know Bach of the Yew. You are not his first apprentice, do you know what happened to the others?” He asked dark beady eyes burrowing into Odette.

“They died.” She said, smirking taking that as a win. “I trust him, he warned me what to expect and the others that have come before.”

The Satyr bowed his head conceding, “What makes you special to stand above others that came before?”

Odette thought for a few moments, deciding to word her answer carefully - Fauns were often wordy tricksters in their own right. Conversations were games as much as they were pranks, often sources of embarrassment for whoever decided to talk to them. “My ambition, it surpassed others by leaps and bounds.”

He laughed heartily not expecting her answer. “Then you will fit right in, Little Swan.”

Odette froze at the nickname the colour draining from her face. Fear prickled at the back of her scalp and water inevitably gathered at her eyes.

The Faun rounded to her side looking up as he smoked, “With such a pretty face you will be coveted in Courts despite your filthy mortality, you will never own your portals. You may stumble over your words, where your feet are sure.”

Blowing smoke into her face, she scrunched it waving at it. Eyes watering over, dribbling down her cheek - unbidden. She had lost.

“Don’t cry instead imagine it, tangled up in the games, the webs, and the limbs.” He continued, taking immense satisfaction. “But- you will always have one thing to your name.”

Odette looked to him, silent - expectant to finish his thought.

“You will have your ambition.” He smiled chewing at the end of the pipe’s stem.

In that moment Bach was at her side, “Come, My Lady. Pay the grump of a goat no mind.”

Gently leading her back into the meadow, The Faun waved, “Happy Birthday, consider our conversation my gift.”

Turning away Odette wiped at her eye with her shoulder.

“I want to go home.” She said finally after a few steps.

Bach turned to look at the Yew, his home. “Yes, My Lady.”

With some guidance from Bach, Odette summoned a portal once more - exhaustion inevitably taking her as she stepped through the portal to her bedroom out through the closet. Checking the time and day, they had only been gone from Earth for the night and the morning sun came up again. Odette staggered to her door, seeing the light from her parent’s study still on and their voices as well. None the wiser for her time away. Exhaustion pulled but her thoughts with the words of the Faun lingered like the smoke from his pipe.

Much like the smoke, it left her a little bitter.

Eric Garland was a man that deeply disturbed Phoenix simply for the mere fact that he faced everything with an unwavering sense of indifference. Dexhi and Daraeya were both trying to coach Phoenix on what to say to him, on how to question him about this mysterious Tul person. Their voices mingled with one another, and though he was thankful for their efforts to help him with this, something in him just knew that he was going to have to face this by himself, without the help of the two Gods.

“Okay, so what do you wanna know?” Eric spoke between a cigarette, a new one that he had decided to light up. The office where they both sat in to discuss the murder of Darius Winters was small, not at all as impressive as what one would see on television and movies. Phoenix sat in a plain foldable office chair, not an impressive arm chair with ornate carvings. The desk was nothing but a mere table, no drawers to hold any important papers and files. “Perhaps he is on hard times. This place is a dump compared to the rest of the house.” Daraeya said.

“Do you know a man named Darius Winters?” Phoenix asked, ignoring Daraeya. Eric cocked his head to the side, and then shook his head.

“Nope, never heard of him. Why? Did Charlton fuck him too?” He asked, bitterly. Phoenix didn’t quite understand the word “fuck”, but he felt it probably wasn’t good.

“I don’t know, but Darius Winters is dead, and we have to find...the…” He forgot the word for a second. “The murderer. Or simply put, the Killer, Fexi.” Dexhi reminded him helpfully.

“We’re looking for his killer. We think you knew them.” He said. Eric took a long drag on his cigarette, before letting out long trails of smoke.

“I might know someone.” Eric said. Phoenix had to refrain from coughing at the powerful stench.

“Well can you-”

“What are you even doing with him?” He suddenly asked, staring hard at Phoenix. Phoenix blinked, confused as to how the questioning had been turned over on him.

“I don’t unders-”

“How old are you, huh? Has Charlton stooped so low he’s going after high schoolers now?” Eric chuckled bitterly. “He thinks you are involved with Charlton romantically somehow, the idiot. His jealousy is getting in the way of the investigation!” Daraeya spat. “We don’t have time to be dealing with a lover’s quarrel, we have to find Tul!”

“Stop wasting time. I know you’re upset, but you said you would answer my questions.” Phoenix spoke, forcefully. He could feel Daraeya’s emotions rubbing off on him. The room grew hot with Phoenix’s irritation growing by the second, but Eric didn’t seem to notice at all. He just glared at Phoenix more, stubbing his cigarette out on the table.

“Who is this person that you know?” Phoenix asked.

“His name is...Adolow. Jerome Adolow. The last time I talked with him, he was going on about how a ‘Dr.Winters’ was going to save his little girl. I don’t know anything other than that.”

“Do you know what was wrong with this girl of his?” He asked. Eric shrugged.

“Something to do with her arm. She’s missing one. But, that was years ago. The kids probably around your age now.” Eric said. A slither of suspicion found its way in Phoenix. Something about this story wasn’t right.

“It was years ago, and you can still remember this conversation?” he said. Eric scoffed.

“Yeah, I can. I got a good memory. I never forget anything.” He laid back in his chair. “What’s up now, huh? You think I killed this Darius guy?” “His jealousy is surfacing again, I can feel it.” Dexhi warned.

“No, I don’t. But I do think you know who did it. And I have a feeling this office has something to do with it.” Phoenix spoke. Nothing in this office seemed like it belonged here. Everything was out of place, from what he could tell. There were papers scattered all along the floor, the table had deep scratches in them, and Phoenix just then noticed that the very chair he sat in had shackles on the legs. “This is not an office.” Eric leaned forward, now anxious. Phoenix could feel his anxiety and worry in the room as easily as the air flowing from the vents.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He demanded.

Phoenix’s eyes darted around the room, and now that he was looking at everything closer he could tell that this was no office indeed. The paper on the floors didn’t look like paperwork for a business or bills, the scratches on the table came in fives, like someone had made them with their nails. Is this some kind of twisted torture room?

“Who did you bring in here last?” Phoenix asked, and Eric balked.

“I don’t know what you mean. This is my office, people come in here all the time.” Eric answered. “He’s not entirely lying. People do come here often, but they aren’t the kind you would expect.” Daraeya said. “They’re coming for something else, not business.”

Was Eric Garland torturing people in his free time? “This looks more like a torture chamber. Like a place to hurt people, Eric.” He said. Eric stared at him with wide eyes.

“How...how dare you?” Eric stood up, his hands braced against the table. “You come into my home, and accuse me of something so indecent?” Phoenix could hear Dexhi and Daraeya telling him to move away from the table, but before he could even act Eric had jumped him. Phoenix found himself on the floor, his head painfully hitting the floor. Eric was on top of him, yelling at him about how he had no right to come in here and accuse people of such things. “I’ll show you torture.” He spat, the man before him completely changed from before. Phoenix could feel him trying to unclasp his poncho, a clammy hand slipped underneath his shirt touching his skin, and a wave of anger entirely his own washed over him. He grabbed Eric’s hand and shoved him off, practically sending the man flying into the table. Eric hung onto it, trying not to fall over. The door to the office flung open, and Eris stood in the doorway, their walkman in hand blaring some song Phoenix didn’t recognize.

“What the hell happened in here?” They demanded to know. Phoenix picked himself up from the floor, and straightened his clothing so it didn’t hang quite so loosely. “Are you okay?” They asked him.

“Yes, I am fine. I just hit my head is all.” Phoenix said. Roland then stormed into the room, followed by a very timid looking Charlton. Roland glared at Eric who still seemed to be staring at Phoenix.

“You’ve got some nerve trying to pull that shit while we were right outside.” He growled. He grabbed Eric by the arm, and dragged him outside. “Eric Garland, you are under arrest on charges of assault, and tampering with evidence at a crime scene.” Eric gawked at him.

“What? I Didn’t-”

“Jump someone in your own little torture room?” Roland spat. Eric was quiet then. Eris walked up to Phoenix.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” They asked, again. Phoenix nodded.

“I am fine, thank you for worrying. Ah...I don’t think I said that right.” He tried to think of what he was actually supposed to say, but the attack still had him feeling a bit confused. Eris ushered him out of the room, and Charlton followed close behind. Phoenix could feel guilt coming from him, his head was hung low and he wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Phoenix turned to him. “None of this is your fault, Charlton.” He said.

“But...I knew Eric was a dangerous person, that he would hurt someone who made him angry like he just did right now. And I didn’t say a thing about it.” He said quietly.

“I know, but it’s fine. I have faced worse things before this, trust me. What I need to know now is...what is that room? Roland says it’s a torture room.”

Charlton shuffled his feet uncomfortable. “It’s...we can discuss what it is somewhere else. Just not here.” He said.

“Charlton’s right, this place gives me the creeps.” Eris said, turning off their walkman.

Charlton laughed, though it was small. “My only question is why did you choose Whitney Houston of all people to defend him? Wouldn’t something...I don’t know, more aggressive, work better?”

Phoenix lagged behind while the two of them talked over musical battle tactics.

“Well at least now we know who to look for.” Daraeya said. “We need to hunt for this Jerome Adolow man.”

“His daughter too, she may hold the key to solving this murder.” Dexhi added. Phoenix breathed in deeply, trying to regain some of his composure. The hunt for the killer was still on, but now they knew who they were looking for.
............................

Boy can't wait to write for Bobi.

Danvers, Massachusetts-Before it all started

Scott Hunter walked among the tombstones of the Ocean View Cemetery. Though he had only been here a hand full of times, he could almost find his destination with his eyes closed. Although he had grown up in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, his parents had lived on the North Shore of Boston before relocating to the country for work, as well as a better environment to raise their family. However, after his father's death, his mother had sold the home that Scott and his siblings had grown up in, and moved back to the North Shore where she was closer to friends and family who could help the newly widowed woman as she acclimated to her new circumstances.

As Scott walked among the tombstones, his mind drifted back in time. He thought about how his relationship with his father had been strained over the years. Scott hadn't been the easiest child to raise, he was head strong and rebellious, and with the abilities that had begun to manifest after puberty, raising him was an absolute nightmare. It was because of this, that he blamed himself for his father's death. It was the stress of raising a freak, a monster like him, as well as the pressure to keep the secret of his true origins and abilities a secret that proved to much for Jacob Hunter. As far as Scott could tell, it was this pressure that caused the aneurysm which had claimed his life.

His brother Brandon had made it his life's mission to make sure that Scott knew that their father's death was all his fault. Brandon was a bitter boy who's cruelty had known no bounds. When Scott was a child, Brandon took great pleasure in the abuse that he subjected his younger brother to. To Brandon, Scott was not really his brother, he was an outsider who had been dropped off on the family doorstep one night, and never left. Once Scott's abilities began to manifest, and it became clear to Brandon that he would no longer be able to physically intimidate the younger boy, he resorted to psychological warfare. Brandon taunted and teased Scott mercilessly. He humiliated the younger boy constantly, taking great joy in doing so, particularly when he had an audience.

However, that changed shortly after their father died. In the weeks and months after Jacob's death, and amid the family's relocation to the Boston area, Brandon began to look out after not only the youngest sibling, Jenny, but Scott as well. They had managed to survive the death of their patriarch and a life altering relocation from all that was familiar, and they had become stronger for it.

Though, it was short lived.

As Scott got closer to his destination, he quickly came out of the fog that had enveloped his mind. He followed the narrow pathway between the rows of headstones for several hundred yards until he came to his final destination, a particular tombstone.

Jacob Joseph Hunter, Loving Husband, father.

“Hi Dad, it's been awhile.” Scott said as he approached the grave marker, unsure of exactly what to say. He then sat down on the lush green grass in front of the stone. “It's been rough lately. We've all been having a hard time. When we lost you, it was like out entire world fell apart. None of us knew what to do, but we did our best.” He said, his voice straining slightly.

“I know that you had a hard time bringing me up, especially when we found out that I wasn't...normal. But you gave it your all, even though I wasn't blood. But He looked away from his father's grave for a moment to another marker, inhaled, and then exhaled deeply before returning his gaze to his father's tombstone.

“But now it's time for me to move on.” Scott said, tears beginning to form in the corner of his eyes. “After what happened, I can't stay.” He continued as he looked over to the other grave stone again, and looked remorsefully at the inscription.

Brandon James Hunter, Beloved Son, Brother.

For an instant, he could almost hear the sounds of smashing glass and twisting steel replaying in his head.

“You're both gone, and it's all my fault. Mom and Jenny are completely lost without out you. Hell, I am too.” Scott admitted. “But after what I did, I can't look them in the eyes anymore. So I'm leaving.”

A quick gust of wind rustled some leaves behind him. The sound made him turn to look to see if maybe someone else had joined him in the cemetery, but when he saw that he was still alone he turned back to the graves.

“I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to be doing. I'm leaving from South Station tomorrow. I think I might head out West for awhile. Kind of stretch my wings a bit. I don't know when I'll be back...if I'll be back. But I want you to know that I love you. Both of you...and I'm sorry.” He finished before getting back to his feet and turning back, slowly walking with his head down, back the way he came.

David started the day with a smile, usually he only had one anniversary to celebrate, but now he had two to think about. Although, he didn’t exactly have a deep relationship with one of them, he considered it important enough to him to celebrate, so he decided to start on a diary. As a historian he spent most of his days looking through notes, digging through history, uncovering what people did and didn’t want found. So, he wanted to share his stories with the future, with his family, or maybe the world.

He placed a small notebook on the desk before him, nothing cliché like a leather backed book or some kind of encrypted journal, but something small and simple; he readied his pen as if he was going to start any moment. Except, he was having some trouble, he became an archeologist not a writer, so he huffed and flicked his pen back and forth hoping something would happen.

The

He stopped there for a few minutes, and then scratched it out.

It was a day like any other, and on this day I…

“Hhmm…no”

He tore out the page, crushed it into a ball, and flung it behind him. One day he was going to share this with family too, and he didn’t want to start this the wrong way, reading was a tough enough for the young as it was.

“How about…”

If one saw the Indiana Johns movies, one would think being an archeologist was fun and action packed. Well, without significant help from a certain source, it isn’t. Being an archeologist involves what your, yourself, are doing right now except for hours as a day, as a job.

Stinks, right?

But I do have help. Almost a year ago I set out on an expedition to Brazil, just on the edge of the Amazon, where I finally found the remains of a tribe I had been following. From the movies you’d expect spike traps, pitfalls, and boulders. Luckily for me, there was almost none of that!

Boy I sure was glad, I’m not exactly out of shape, but I’m no athlete!

Anyways, there was just a few rooms, one of which had a beautiful crystal formation at the center, reaching all the way to the ceiling, and I touched it. Cool huh?

Yeah, it’s boring I know, but it gets better with time, trust me. So, get this, I got super powers! That Terra Firma guy, that’s me!

There’s a few other things, but the main point is, I got super strength, speed, and a whole other package, I’m practically a one-man army.
And to whoever’s reading this, be it friend or family, keep it between us. _{But I think I can even take on Icon.} Not that I would though, great guy!

“Hhmm” David grumbled again, squinted at the page for a few moments, before turning it.

“I’ll work it out in post.”

Now, here’s where the diary part starts. As soon as I got out of there I spent about an hour messing around in the forest, testing out what I could do, before I got tired.

I swear, stamina was never a problem until now.

While I got lost I stumbled into some kind of poaching operation, caught a whole mess of guys pulling the claws right out of a bunch of animals, don’t ask me to name them though. I stopped them easily of course, I’m fairly strong after all.

And after that I The constant scratching and tapping of his pen stopped.

“After that...I..” David pushed away from the desk slightly, staring off into the distance, dropping his pen in thought. There was an alarming gap in his memory, something he forgot, and something he didn’t.

“...I ended up in Lost Haven?”

He remained like this, with his brows scrunched together, searching his memories, until a certain someone called to him from behind his door.

“Hey, David, are you ready yet?”

“Oh!” David jumped back to reality, shut his diary closed, and stuffed it into a drawer. Today he started keeping track of the days for one anniversary, but there was another he was already on track for, and this one he didn’t want to miss.

Tonight, was a special night.

---

Dust lingered in stale air, sent aloft by a squadron of Cadw staff and local preservationists preparing the manor for a charity banquet. The banner of a local lord lined the rough stone walls and high wooden arches as a nod to its medieval history. Ursula coughed as she passed a woman beating dirt from an antique rug, doubling over as a sharp pain contorted her chest and stomach.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” the woman rushed to Ursula’s side, offering her shoulder as a support while gripping Ursula’s cane to steady it.

”Yes,” she managed between coughing fits, ”just the dust, I’ll be fine.”

The miasma was taking its toll. Ursula knew that, with time, her symptoms would subside, but her immune system was severely compromised, her sinuses flared, more prone to allergens. She desperately needed rest.

”I’m on it!” a voice sounded through the hall. Gideon, a young cunning man native to Wales, weaved through an awkward array of dining chairs and drying tablecloths, greeting Ursula with a plucky smile. His hair was a sandy colour, shaved on the sides and swept atop his head to right, the hint of curls forming in a stubborn fringe that he relentlessly reshaped. He was attired smartly, draped in a navy, form-fitting robe styled similarly to a monk or bishop, with a cross dangling from his neck.

”Thank you, Gideon,” Ursula picked herself up, nodding at the volunteer to return to her duties, distributing her weight between her cane and Gideon’s left shoulder. ”Bring me to the Observatory, if you wouldn’t mind.”

”Sure about that?” he added skeptically, walking her over to a chair clear of dusty linens. ”You’ll work yourself to death, Ursula . . .”

She sneered at him.

”Miss Wyrcroft,” he corrected himself. ”but you know I’m right. Take the day off, or the next several days. I can take care of the banquet and overlook construction of the tunnels.”

Ursula let out a labored chuckle. ”That’s kind of you, Gideon, but this is my operation. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I’d rather be present during construction. And if I’m needed to run off more unwanted guests.”

”I might have overheard some of that. Who was he?”

Ursula shook her head, playfully swatting Gideon’s leg with her free hand. ”A pain in my ass from the Agency, nosing his way into matters that don’t concern him, as the Agency is want to do. Don’t worry about him too much, but I fear that as more time passes, the Agency, and parliament for that matter, might become a problem. We’ll need to maintain this illusion as best we can, lest our work be undermined by bureaucracy.”

Inhaling, Ursula stood up, balancing on her cane. ”Now, let’s get moving. If I sit too long I’ll be stiff.”

Gideon considered whether he should continue his protests, but decided against it. He knew how stubborn Ursula could be, it was a losing battle. Taking her arm in his, he lead her through the hall adjacent to the courtyard to a set of stairs hidden beneath a floor runner and a wooden panel. Carefully, he lifted to trapdoor, waiting for it to click into place before descending a series of stone stairs that led into darkness. Ursula went first, keeping a hand on the wall to steady herself, progressing only a few stairs down before waiting on Gideon, who followed closely behind, moving the panel to its original position. He took Ursula’s hand and continued to lead her down the stairs toward a stone landing, illuminated faintly by distant fixtures.



Beneath the Tretower Court lie the headquarters of the Ars Obscura, an extension of the forgotten cellar and a faery mound running under the property. Around the clock construction began during Ursula’s final months in the London branch of the Agency. In its current state, the subterranean base was divided into five distinct sections: the Observatory, a modest living space decorated in the style of the court above, fitted with electric wall sconces, medieval decor, a wall of shelves that acted as a manual filing system, small alcoves with desks, tables, and benches for socialization, and windows overlooking the three major sections of the base.

The Laboratory came next, connected to the Observatory and housing worn stations where tools of the trade lie neatly organized, tall partitions separating the different work spaces. Further downstairs, visible from the Observatory, lie the Armoury, Library, and Reliquary.

The Armoury housed enchanted, cursed, or otherwise magical weapons and arms collected by the Ars Obscura, each contained in its own case with a placard to describe its name, if it held one, and a brief summary of its power. Next door, the Library held the Ars’s collection of magical tomes, including those taken in the field, and any donated by Ars members. Within the library were small desks and studies for silent research, as well as a central, circular table for discussion. Finally, the Reliquary kept all remaining items, magical devices, enchanted jewelry, organized in the same fashion to the Armoury.

Moving about the base were a small cast of characters, recent additions to the Ars Obscura and founding members taken in by Ursula upon its creation. The Ars had only five senior members beneath Ursula, known as Sages, seven field agents, called Magicians, and three initiates or Apprentices.

Ursula held no fanciful title, preferring the mundane choice, Director. Gideon, while only a Magician, was well on his way to becoming Sage, given to taking on more responsibility than was expected of him, a trait Ursula admired and rewarded.

Taking a seat on a low bench just inside the Observatory, Ursula hailed a passing Magician, whom she recognized as a sorceress from the Netherlands. ”Go to the Laboratory and prepare a divination, would you? Fourth Pentacle of Mercury should suffice.”

The Magician nodded, hurrying to the Lab.

”Fourth of Mercury? Must be quite the obstacle blocking your path. What’s the divination for?”

”A precautionary glimpse into the future of our operation,” she sighed, rolling her neck to relieve herself of stiffened muscles. To no avail. ”I can feel something brewing, just not sure what.”

”Merlyn!” a tall lad dressed all in black and grey came with silent footfalls, waving to Gideon before running into him. A playful gesture, something between friends. He bent forward, ever so, and kissed Gideon, first his forehead, then his lips.

”Merlyn?” Ursula shook her head, smiling.

”Codenames, Ur . . . Miss Wyrcroft. I picked Merlyn, spelled with a ‘y’. I think it’s appropriate. And Orrin-”

”Warlock,” Orrin interrupted, ”Scottish terminology and all that. How d’ya like it?”

”Well it’s ridiculous, but far be it from me to step in the way of your fun, so long as you keep me out of it.”

Orrin and Gideon continued to elbow and push one another, always keeping on arm or hand in contact with the other. Ursula was apprehensive about allowing a relationship among her subordinates; it was prohibited under the Agency. But she reminded herself, time and again, that her operation was everything the Agency wasn’t, and denying her operatives such happiness would make her a tyrant. In any case, she was pleased with their dynamic, “Warlock” and “Merlyn.” A fated meeting, one the seventh son of the seventh son, born with the Sight and taken by witchcraft in his adolescence, the other a cunning man studying under a Catholic priest.

Ursula introduced the two only a month ago. She’d known Gideon from her time at the Agency, the apprentice of an associate in London. He jumped at the chance to return to Wales, continue his education in folk magic. Orrin, however, had come as a surprise. He was an oddity, born with the Sight, but also marked as a witch, branded with a symbol she had never seen before, one that conferred certain gifts. Were she more like her former employers, she would fear it, keep him under constant watch. But again, she wasn’t them.

The Agency had wanted to detain Orrin, who’d broken into a string of jewelry stores in Scotland with his strange gifts - taking nothing, oddly - before finding himself at the mercy of the Agency’s wards. Ursula, ever the opportunist, believed his skills could be of use, thus recruiting him. And the Ars Obscura found its first witch.

”While I have you,” she reached for Orrin’s hand. ”’Warlock’, how goes the search for Scot’s Triumvirate? Was his wand in Cornwall as you suspected?”

”No, and nothin to lead me to it. The old wizard hid his trinkets well. I’m off to Romania next. Heard about a cabal of sorcerers there that might help.”

”Be safe,” Gideon took Orrin’s hand in his, kissing it, touching it to his cheek.

”Don’t worry about me, it’s this one you need to watch.” he gripped Ursula’s hand. ”You’d better not haunt us when you work yourself to death.”

Ursula chuckled, then coughed. If nothing else, she had a team who cared for her, more than she could say for her former team. Already the fruits of their labor were being plucked from the ripened tree; the Armoury and Reliquary housed a combined 150 cataloged artifacts, and the Library held almost 300 recovered volumes, and another 250 donated by different members. With time, her body would heal. With time, the Ars Obscura would rise to prominence, unseen, unknown, only felt.

It was yet another warm, yet breezy, summer day in Timber Falls. Although summer break was coming to a close, Zac still found some time to return home and see his parents. Just like last summer, Kelly tagged along, too. However, unlike last time, she was not as much of a newcomer to the Wilson family.

Zac and Kelly decided to take a stroll around the lake that was located not far away from the Wilson household. The lake created the perfect circumstances for the wind to blow a cool breeze to the surrounding area, making the summer day exceptionally nice. Within eyeshot, there was a small island right off the coast of the lake, where Zac and Kelly were taking there walk. The island was girted with a sandy beach, while leafy trees and foliage decorated the interior of the island.

“I haven’t thought about it before, but it has been an entire year since we’ve gotten our powers,” Zac mentioned to Kelly when he caught sight of the island. A year ago, that was the island where both Zac and Kelly were kidnapped by Doctor Diplodoc before being turned into metahumans.

“It has only been a year? With all that has happened recently, it has felt it should be longer than that!” Kelly answered her boyfriend back.

“Want to race, for old times’ sake?”

“You’re on!”

Zac stripped off his shirt before diving into the chilly lake water. Last time, Zac easily smoked his girlfriend and from how it looked to Zac when he got into the water, the end result appeared like it would not be any different. When Zac finally landed on the island’s beach, he turned around and was surprised when he did not see her behind him. At first, he was concerned that she might have had trouble while swimming. However, that fear was quickly dispersed.

“What took you so long?” Kelly taunted Zac in the most loving way possible. Zac knew that something was up when he noticed that her clothes were completely dry. She also had her power nullifier deactivated, which granted her wasplike powers and appearance.

“Hold up, that was cheating!” Zac reacted to his girlfriend’s victory in the race.

“You didn’t explicitly say anything about having to swim,” Kelly told Zac with a smile on her face, enjoying the fact that she bent the rules by flying to the island instead of swimming.

“If we’re using powers, I should be allowed to use my superhuman speed,” Zac proposed before pausing for a moment when an idea came to him. “Wait, could I run on water?”

“Hmm…good question. I would have to look it up,” Kelly answered, pulling out her cell phone from her pocket and opening up her internet browser.

“I mean, the Flash did it on that tv show, but I’m nowhere near as fast as he is and that’s comic book logic anyways, right?

“Actually, if you can make it to 30 meters per second, you could potentially mimic the basilisk lizard.”

“What’s that in non-metric units?”

“Umm…about 67 miles per hours,” Kelly answered after a short pause while she converted the units (or rather Google did).

“I can reach that easily…I think,” Zac said as he deactivated his power nullifier, which also swapped his wet pants for his dry superhero costume. “There’s not much real estate here, but I guess running around the island in a circle might work.”

Zac soon zoomed off, dashing around the island in a circle. With each lap, he increased his speed. Once Zac had felt he was in the right ballpark for his speed, instead of continuing in the circle, he just went straight towards the mainland.

The sensation of running on the water was weird, yet exciting. The pressure from his feet striking the lake’s surface in turn forced the water to push back up against his feet. With each step, Zac found that he was not yet sinking into the water. However, Zac’s downfall was him looking back towards the island in an almost cocky sign of victory. Instead, all this did was distract him, causing him to lose his footing and stumble. Just like a smooth rock that young children would toss across a lake’s surface, Zac skipped on top of the water for several feet until he crashed into the beach.

“Are you okay!” Kelly asked in concern as she hovered near him once she had flew across the lake’s surface to where Zac had landed.

“Nothing I’ve haven’t handled before,” Zac answered while giving his girlfriend a thumbs up.

“Well, that was an interesting first test run,” Kelly told him. Once she realized what she said, Kelly added: “No pun intended, of course.”

“At least I know I can do this. Might come in handy in the future.”