“You got it chief,” Misty breathed in relief, lowering her raised hands slightly as the clenching in her guts relaxed. A moment ago she had been trying to think of the nastiest death curse she could fling at the hunter, now she had at least a faint hope of living through the night. As Sun Tzu said: Always do what the psycho with the giant gun says. Shakes Dance Studio was fairly typical of this edge of the city, an area that had been under development when the financial crisis ripped the funding out from under everyone's feet. The hunter had gotten the drop on her as she arrived home and she felt vaguely ridiculous. She didn’t feel like a mighty wizard in cargo shorts, a slytherin T-shirt, and carrying an arm load of groceries. At least she hadn’t wet herself when he pointed that huge fuck off rifle at her. The power of positive thinking.

“I got to get a few things so don’t go getting all itchy about the trigger,” she cautioned as she set down her groceries. Her staff, a wooden broom handle from the home depot, lay propped in a corner. Its entire length had been carved with runes and sigils with the aid of thumb tack. The barrel of the rifle followed her as she retrieved the staff and moved from the reception area with its large front desk, through a door onto the dance floor.

The main room was impressively large, the size of a small gymnasium. While Misty had cleared the trash that had covered it when she arrived, the walls were marked with graffiti that predated her residence. Several large posters advertising a performance of the Nutcracker had been creatively defaced so they now read: ‘Deez NutSracker’, a piece of vandalism that was funnier than it was grammatically accurate. The marks of Misty’s own habitation were stranger still. Perhaps three quarters of the polished concrete floor was covered with chalk marks. Circles and arcane sigils were interconnected with scribbled notes. The lesser Sign of Solomon was overwritten with a list: Milk, Soda, Eggs, Those candies you like. In one corner a hopscotch game had been chalked out, complete with a planchet. A large chalk heart proclaimed M-4-N, complete with a stylized arrow. One wall contained a heavy duty overhead trackway designed to carry costumes, though these had long since been looted. On the back wall was an artistically rendered tunnel, of which Wiley Coyote would have been proud. Half empty paint cans stacked beside it, topped with brushes that had never been properly cleaned. In the far corner, near a large loading door, stood a palette of red bull energy drinks, the shrink wrap peeled back around the top corner. Several empty cans were scattered around, as were a suspicious pile of white feathers. Misty picked up a stick of pink chalk from the floor and sharpened it with several strokes against the concrete floor.

“I need something for the spell to work on,” she told the hunter, talking more out of nerves than a need to explain. Against the wall was a series of cubbies. Originally, these had been intended for students to exchange street shoes for dance shoes, now they were piled with a bewildering array of items. Marbles, coins, dried herbs, lengths of ribbon, jars of powder, children's calculators and a dozen more beside. Misty reached into one and retrieved a toy compass. It was still in its hard plastic packaging, with cardboard in bright primary colors and the logo of the Natural History Museum. The museum gift shop was a surprisingly good source of arcane materials. She struggled for a minute with the annoyingly sturdy plastic package before finally managing to pry it open. She tossed the plastic aside and hefted the coin sized device in her hand.

“I uhh… know we are on the honor system here, but to be clear, this will stop working if you shoot me,” she cautioned, waggling the little compass. She didn't know anything about Trader other than what Mr Dialtone had said. She didn't bear him any ill will but her own skin was infinitely more valuable than his wellbeing.

Seeing the other car already parked outside Misty's sanctum made Kendra tense. "You might want to stay in the car, Trin," they said as they started undoing their seat belt. She had a bad feeling, not like a vision or supernatural sense, just the run-of-the-mill bad gut feeling normal people got. If something bad went down at Misty's place, she didn't want Trinity to be caught up in it. Misty had all sorts of mystical powers, Grace was already dead and thus immune to usual physical harm, and, well, Kendra had long since stopped caring about their own safety. But Trinity was a normal, flesh-and-blood human being. Hardy, yes, but a normal human being nonetheless.

Once she was out of the car, Kendra glanced around in attempt to find Grace. "Grace?" she said aloud, assuming the specter was somewhere in the vicinity.

At least the drive was nice. Mitra allowed himself some time to relax and unwind, simply soaking in the music to ease his tension. Driving with music was a hobby he rarely indulged in, due to the price of gasoline, but he had to confess, he was grateful for the excuse. Even with his differences with Paimon.

When he pulled up, though, there was a car pulling in as well. Misty's? A friend? An enemy? He had no way of knowing. He watched someone get out of the passenger's seat - looked to be a young adult. Late high school to college, somewhere in that range. Was this Misty? Or was she the driver, who he couldn't make out from this distance? If so, she was older than he'd imagined her being. A young teenager like he pictured would make him dig for the dregs of compassion he could still manage, try to gently confirm her identity before handing over Paimon's message and hanging around to make sure she'd be alright. Maybe offer her some resources he knew of, lie and say it was going to be a-okay. But an older teenager?

He might manage something, but it was going to be tempered by experience and caution. He'd had message deliveries go sour before, and if she was old enough to drive, she was old enough to try beating him upside the head when the message turned out to be something bad. After a few deliveries that had gone poorly, he'd begged Paimon for a blessing of thicker skin to help protect himself. Paimon had made another suggestion too for his own defense.

Mitra pulled the lever to release the trunk lock, unbuckled, and got out of the car. He went into the backseat first, where a box of shotgun shells was stored under the driver's seat, and pocketed a couple of shells. He then went to the trunk, and pulled out the unloaded pump-action shotgun. It was almost never loaded until he actually needed to shoot someone - just the sight was usually enough to intimidate, and the stock had seen more action than the barrels had. That didn't mean he intended to wander in without ammunition. His thickened skin was typically enough to buy him time to load the shotgun and request that the other party calm down if violence broke out. And if the violence continued, well, then he had no qualms about pulling the trigger.

It was just good manners to ask first. And had saved him a lot in laundry bills.

He locked his car and approached the young adult, treading lightly and shotgun resting against his shoulder. "Misty Starbuck?" he asked.

Grace

Along the way to the dance hall, Grace greeted the other ghosts in a friendly manner, and quickly thanked them when they gave her warnings about the hunter. When the three of them arrived, Grace's attention was drawn to the interior of the dance hall. She phased through and watched as Abberline the hunter held his fire to let Misty perform the ritual to find the Trader.

Knowing that Kendra doesn't have any weapons to defend herself from the hunter, she flew as fast as she could back to the outside where Kendra was. She stood next to the prophetess and allowed herself to manifest so she can seen and heard, but not touched. She spoke to Kendra quickly and urgently,

"Kendra! Abberline's already got Misty at gunpoint! He's having her search for the Tra...der..."

Her speech slows and her eyes widen as her gaze catches a familiar face: The last face she saw when she was alive. The face she called to for help in her last moments...

"You....!" She directed that word at Mitra in recognition. It's amazing how one word can hold so much anger. It wasn't as much anger as the amount she held towards her murderer specifically, but it is a lot.

She inhales sharply through her nose and held up on index finger as though to say 'One Moment'. She speaks, clearly catching herself before she did anything dumb, "Later! Later...!"

She looks back to Kendra and she tells her, "Misty needs saving. Stay out here! I will be back,"

She then looks to Mitra again and she comments, "Don't trust him and don't expect him to help in any way,"

She looks back to the dance hall, trying to think of what to do before she vanishes and goes to act. She needed a plan. For the moment she is still manifested.

The man who exited the other car was, thankfully, not Abberline as Kendra had previously thought. However, he was still toting a gun, and didn't seem altogether friendly with the way he approached. When he asked if they were Misty, Kendra made a point of looking him up and down. "Depends," she said after a long moment. "Which answer is less likely to make you use that?" She motioned to the gun. She knew she was probably playing with fire here, but she had no idea who this guy was or what he wanted with Misty. Kendra didn't consider Misty a 'friend' - there were very few people in this world that they did - but they weren't about to point a potential psycho in her direction. They had enough guilt on their conscience already without adding 'unwittingly aiding a murderer' to the list.

However, before the man could respond, Grace finally materialized and her reaction was... unexpected. Not the part about Abberline already being in the building, though that was less than ideal. It was the recognition and pure rage that she directed towards this stranger. Kendra looked between the two of them, uncertain what to make of this situation, and was about to open their mouth before Grace said she was going back in the building. "Hold on, Grace!" Kendra said. "I don't think we should be rushing in without a plan. You may be immune to regular bullets, but I got a strong feeling that Abberline has things that could hurt a ghost. Plus, even if he doesn't, seeing you might escalate the situation and cause that itchy trigger finger of his to be... err, well, itchier." They crossed their arms. "I'd rather avoid anyone getting shot tonight, if it's all the same to you." As they made that comment, they pointedly glanced back towards the stranger.

@Candykane
“I need something for the spell to work on,” You tell the hunter.

"I am aware." Abberline replies before gesturing to the empty bag with the word 'Candy' embroidered onto the side that he threw to you a moment ago. "The bag belongs to my quarry. I trust that will be enough for you to work with?"

@XxFellsingxX
As you announce that you'd rather avoid anyone getting shot tonight, a strange intuition comes to you. An intuition you know from experience to be a result of your powers. Abberline knows of the prophesy foretelling his doom at the hands an alliance between all four factions. As a result, he will be quick to retreat if confronted by even the smallest gathering of Mortality, Night, Power, and Wild.

Mitra was about to answer when the ghost shows up. And apparently recognizes him. Confusion creases his brow before he takes the worst possible choice - he brushes it off. Seems the ghost will explain 'later', though he doesn't appreciate her 'warning'. He's a fairly reasonable and hardworking individual, especially for someone who's for all intents and purposes soulless. He couldbe a far worse and less reliable individual, he's heard the stories and knows he's walking a tightrope.

And as for the comment about shooting someone...

"You've heard the expression 'don't shoot the messenger', yeah? Not many take it to heart. So I just have this to ensure I don't get shot more than once. It's empty right now, see?" And he does open the barrels so this mystery lady and ghost can see for themselves. He only gives them enough time for that, though, as it sounds like his target's in trouble. If nothing else, he'll be in trouble if he fails to deliver this message.

"So, you're not Misty. I have a message for her." He nods towards the building. Abberline. Figures. So his target's not a regular human either. Abberline probably has bullets for her. They might be holy. "I can take a shot or two, if that helps. Is she tainted?" He's not willing yet to put all his cards on the table, but he may as well find out the odds that the hunter is prepared for someone like him right now.

"Fair enough," Kendra said in response to the stranger's response, though there was still a hint of doubt in their voice. They also raised an eyebrow at his comment about 'being able to take a few bullets' and him asking if Misty was 'tainted'. "No, Misty's a wizard," she said. "Or witch. Sorceress? I don't know how she labels herself, but she can do spells." As she was saying this, a thought began occurring to her as she remembered the prophecy she had had about Abberline. She glanced toward Grace, back at the stranger, and then towards the dance studio. "I have an idea about how we can scare Abberline off, but it's risky."

Grace was a ghost, making her of the Night faction. Misty was Powered. As for Mortality, well, Kendra could potentially pass as a 'normal'. She certainly wasn't about to involve Trinity or any other bystanders. That left this strange man. Kendra scrutinized him again: they had no idea of his alignment, but they got the sense from his lack of reaction towards Grace's spontaneous appearance and the things he was saying that he was not a normal man. He said he had a message to Misty, presumably from someone else, and it didn't seem as if he wanted her dead. That was a start. "So, hi: I'm Kendra. I have visions sometimes," she said. "What's your deal exactly?"

Mitra raises an eyebrow, taking a moment to process all he'd been told. A wizard, huh. That might explain the name and the need for a lair. He's starting to feel excessively foolish for his concern in the first place. His initial assumption might still be right, but it seems increasingly unlikely.

And a plan. He was expecting her to go into some detail, but she surprised him by introducing herself first. He didn't know what to make of her comment about visions - should he be concerned? Then it occurred to him she was possibly an oracle. Oracles had visions, didn't they? Often uncontrolled, he'd heard, and usually somewhat distant into the future. That actually brought up a concern: whatever plan she had, she had no way of knowing it'd work. When she was saying the plan was risky, she meant it.

He brings his free arm up to his side, as if he's reliving a gunshot. Just because he'd stated he could tank a shot, it didn't mean he wants to be shot. No, he wants to deliver this damn message and get home and maybe make popcorn with Ravindra as they settle in for the evening to watch some movie of questionable quality. Abberline wasn't in his plans. But he supposes it's too late now. And now Kendra wants to know his deal. He has little trouble sharing it - most people don't believe him until he tears through his skin and skeleton (which, incidentally, is why the shotgun's kept in the car and not in the house. He doesn't need the extra intimidation factor in scaring off intruders, many of whom don't even know demons are real until he's clawing at their bodies).

"Mitra." If Kendra's not comfortable sharing her last name, he sees no reason to share his. "I serve Paimon, King of the West and Ruler of 200 legions of spirits. In return for my servitude of delivering messages and tracking down demons, he has seen fit to grant an... alternate form." For some, serving King Paimon might be seen as a reason to brag and to hopefully impress the listener; Mitra simply relates the information like he's ordering a burger as a fast food restaurant. He eyes Kendra carefully. "How 'risky' is this plan of yours?"

"Huh," Kendra said, now with both eyebrows raised. She'd been expecting his employer to be unusual, but demon king had definitely not been her first thought. "If that's the case, then the chances of this plan working have improved considerably." Under normal circumstances, she would not want either herself or any of roommates, living or otherwise, to make any dealings with anyone who associated with demons. Fortunately - or unfortunately, depending who you asked - everything relating to Abberline was, at least in Kendra's book, labelled as anything but normal.

"When Abberline first came to town, I had a vision that he was going to become a major problem," the Oracle said. "And that his defeat would only come about at the hands of an alliance between all four Factions." They rolled their eyes. "Which I initially dismissed as being as likely as Hell freezing over, if you'll pardon the expression." There is the faintest hint of a smirk forming on Kendra's face which Mitra will get the impression - and something Grace will know for a fact - is not something she does often. Clearly, she thought what she just said was very witty. "However, it just so happens that Abberline has heard of this prophecy too, and he's apparently far less cynical than I am. At even the hint of alliance between all four factions, he should retreat." She pointed to Mitra. "Your association with a demon, Misty's occupation and Grace being, well, Grace means we've got Wild, Power and Night covered. We're only missing Mortality." Mitra will notice as Kendra is saying this, her eyes are very pointedly trying not to look toward the car she exited from, where Trinity is still seated. "I don't advertise my gifts often, and do my best to keep my head down when I can. There is a chance that Abberline doesn't already have me on his list of future hunts, and that I may be able to pass as a normal human being." That hint of a smirk became more obvious as she added, "For once in my life."

The smile then faded completely to a much grimmer expression, which looked far more at home on Kendra's face. "However, if he doesn't fall for it, we may end up escalating the situation and he might end up hurting Misty, presuming he hasn't already. And even if it does work and he flees, well, we've just revealed our faces to a man who hunts the supernatural for shits and giggles. If Abberline doesn't already have a file on each of us, he will after tonight, and we'll probably have raised up in his hitlist." Kendra shrugged. "Now, Abberline doesn't scare me, but I don't know about how well that would sit with you." She turns her gaze from Mitra towards Grace. "That goes for you too, Grace. I won't force either of you to do this if you're not prepared for the problems it's very likely going to bring." She shrugged again. "Then again, Abberline's probably going to end up being a whole lot of peoples' problem sooner or later. You don't get a MacBeth-styled prophecy about you by being lowkey."

Grace

Grace looked to Kendra when she spoke up, stopping her from disappearing and acting on her own. She listened to Kendra as spoke. The ghost nodded in agreement with Kendra's sentiment that she didn't want anyone to get shot at tonight. Grace noticeably looks irked when the man seemed to have brushed her off like she was nothing.

Did he really not remember last week? Sure, they saw each other for the first time back then, but who would forget witnessing a murder?!

The ghost was silent as she listened to her friend and the strange speak with each other. When Mitra introduced his first name, surprise crossed her face. She couldn't help but ask, "Wait. 'Mitra'? As in, 'Mitra Singh'?!" Her eyes were wide with surprise more so than rage this time as she asked.

Considering that Mr. Dialtone mentioned him as Chandra's bodyguard earlier, and she was here to save Chandra's career as well as find Kendra's tarot cards, she had serious doubts that this was a coincidence. Besides, how common of a name was 'Mitra' anyways?

Mitra Singh and the guy who she called to help her at the moment of her death were the same guy?!

Her attention was drawn back to Kendra from her whirling mind drawing rapid conclusions. She listened as Kendra explained Abberline's prophecy. She gave a smirk as well when Kendra did. Her smirk faded as well when Kendra explained the dangers of this plan.

She answered Kendra's words, "I'm in. I trust you, Kendra. Now that I'm like this, I can't just stand by and do nothing when someone is about to get hurt," When she spoke the last part of her sentence she pointed her gaze and words at Mitra. They were full of bitter venom as though to silently say "Like someone here did,"

She calmed herself down, reminding herself to talk to Mitra about it later.

She asked Kendra, "What do you need me to do?"

"Wait. 'Mitra'? As in, 'Mitra Singh'?!"

He bit his tongue to keep from replying with the default of 'I don't do political favors' - the spirit had probably recognized him from his mother-in-law's surname (except, wait, he hadn't given his surname, how had she known?), and right now was probably not the time to address his policy towards requests from natural or supernatural beings. Right now, it was time to listen to Kendra.

She outlined the prophecy against Abberline, how each of them fit into a specific category - and made a pun about hell that made him groan. He craned his neck towards the driver still seated in Kendra's car when she mentioned Mortality being missing, but then she very thoughtfully volunteered herself and he returned his gaze to her. Well, as long as she could feign being an ordinary human for five minutes, who was he to object? And then the problems - yeah, those were some significant problems. He wasn't going to lie, for the first time in a long time he could feel the stirrings of fear.

It was more pleasant than he remembered it being. It felt... lively.

Of course, that didn't mean it was pleasant; there was the very real fear of what Ravindra might do if he died, of what forces he might get in contact with on his demise for the sake of vengeance. Or what if the prophecy was referring to Ravindra as the representative of Mortality? Or what if Abberline targeted Ravindra for his association with Mitra? He could feel the demon just beneath his flesh ripple with rage at the thought. It wasn't really a great plan. But it was a plan.

Then the spirit spoke up again before Mitra could (mostly to complain that he wouldn't call it a MacBeth-styled prophecy. Not enough impossibility), and if she was any more venomous, he'd mistake her for a demon too.

"Ohhhhkay, I've... offended you somehow?" he guessed. Studying her, she was kinda familiar, but like in the way a barista's familiar when they're off the job and out shopping somewhere. That didn't tell him much, really. "But perhaps we can discuss it another time. Or at least after I've delivered my message." He capped this message off by loading the shotgun with a single shell and then offering it Kendra. "I take it I should enter using my other form - and if so, you may need this more than I do. At least if you're trying to pass as a normal human. Can't imagine a normal human arriving unarmed. I fully expect it back once he's left, though."

Kendra also noticed the venom in Grace's tone, but decided not to comment on it. From the way she spoke, the Oracle sensed this man was at very least not Grace's murderer. Even so, the spirit didn't seem the kind of hate without a damn good reason, and Kendra would normally be hesitant to work with anyone who earned so much of Grace's ire. Again, Misty's life and Abberline's threat took priority here. She was just glad that both parties had agreed to act civil long enough for them enact this plan.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Not much," Kendra said. "Once we've entered the building, you just need to do what you normally do." They shrugged. "You know, suddenly appear. Walk through wall. Appear before Abberline in an appropriately ghostly way." She glanced at Grace. "Don't overdo it, obviously. As fun as it would be to see you attempt to crawl out of a TV Sadako-style, I somehow doubt Abberline would appreciate the theatrics."

When Mitra offered Kendra the gun, the Oracle was hesitant in taking it, and even after she was holding it, she held it well away from her body. "Ah. Right," she said, eyeing the firearm as if it were a bomb about to go off. "Thanks."

Grace

Grace glowered at Mitra's guess that he had simply offended her to earn her ire, and she shook her head. When he suggested discussing it another time, she agreed, "Like I said before: Later,"

She then turned her attention to Kendra when she explained that she wanted Grace to do the usual ghostly stuff. Grace's smile widened as an idea came to her. She answered Kendra "I have some ideas on how to pull off some ghostly theatrics without endangering myself,"

She then told the both of them, "I'll go on ahead. This dance studio's missing something important,"

She grins again and finishes with the word, "Music," before she vanishes, allowing her manifestation to fade.

She phased through the walls of the studio, and made her way over to the old stereo system that played music. She allowed herself to manifest once again, this time so that she could touch and be heard, but remain unseen. She turns on the stereo and presses play, causing the dance studio to echo with the distorted soundtrack of...

The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite...

Grace nodded in approval as the once innocuous song is made creepier by the distortion of the old stereo. After that, she allows her manifestation to fade once again should Abberline come and investigate.

itra watched Grace fade with the puzzling comment about music, before he shrugged it off the same way he shrugged off his jacket. The message was safely inside - he again offered the item to Kendra. "Hold this please?"

It started with a faint tear down the bridge of his nose. He barely had to pull at it before the layer pulled away: pale green scales replaced the brown skin. The split grew larger; black hair turned white as he peeled the layer of skin from his skull. His left eye blinked, followed by the three right eyes. A thick gnarled horn sprouted with a loud crunching noise from above the right ear, which had elongated and looked more like a fantasy elf's ear than anything human. He shrugged the layer and clothing off his shoulders. He tugged at the fingers on his left hand, until the skin pulled loose and he was able to pull his arm free as if he was undressing instead of shedding his humanity. He repeated the process for the right arm, until both arms were free and tipped with talons rather than fingernails. He pushed the skin and clothing down past his hips, where bony spikes burst forth - or perhaps they were teeth? - and encircled the humanoid-looking torso. Mitra kept pushing, now exposing a chitinous surface littered with large eyes and a pair of small, taloned limbs that bent and seemed to await a target to skewer. The section was much thicker than either leg; how it came from the skin being peeled could only be attributed to dark forces. He kept peeling, a new ring of bone spikes separating this section from a massive tail that flicked the remnants of Mitra's human form from its outline. Spikes lined the spine of the tail, and several eyes stared out from beneath the second ring of bony spikes.

All in all, the transformation had probably taken anywhere between 15 and 30 seconds. The first time, it had dragged out for nearly half an hour of utter agony, of bones breaking and resetting, of skin tearing and blood beading, of nerves on fire as they set new routes that no human nervous system had ever experienced before. Now, it was litle more than an annoyance, something to get over with as soon as humanly possible.

He stretched, reaching well above his head as he did so, and idly picked between his teeth, cannibal-sharp and far more numerous than what should fit into a person's mouth, no matter what kind of person they were. "So," he said, and it was just wrong hearing a human voice coming from something so wildly inhuman. "Care to lead the way? I have a bad habit of crushing doors like this, see." And he grinned, and never had the expression 'ear to ear' been so literal before.

@Guardian Angel Haruki @RBYDark @XxFellsingxX
The music that Grace puts on coincides perfectly with the beginning of Mitra's transformation and is loud enough to carry outside the studio and give the tainted's transition some appropriately eerie ambient music.

@Candykane
Meanwhile, inside the studio, the sudden sound of music causes Abberline to tense up and begin pointing his rifle directly at Misty's head. "What do you think you are doing?" The hunter demands to know as his finger moves over the rifle's trigger. "I am in no mood for games, witch. Cease this mischief and cast the tracking spell."

"No what I mean is... you know what, no need to over explain, keep a little mystery and all that," Misty agreed.

Abruptly the speakers stuttered to life and the Dance of the Sugar Plum Faries began to play.

"It's an old building, as you can see I havent' exactly kept up with the house keeping..." Misty temporized. The barrel was a huge black hole that swallowed the world.

She kept her hands raised and edged across to take the bag. Moving to a relatively open spot on the floor she crouched down and began to scribe symbols on the floor. Three connected circles, one surrounding the bag, another surrounding the compass and a third surrounding her. She linked them with tripple lines of oddly asymetric runes. Misty paused and looked up at the Hunter, staring down the barrel of his rifle. Given the choice of wetting herself and making a smart remark, she made the obvious choice.

"If anyone asks, I danced naked under a harvest moon or some shit," she told the hunter and then closed her eyes and began to whisper. Arcane power rushed into her like a torrent. The fine hairs on her arms raised and her hair began to prickle with static. It was sweeter and stronger than any time in recent memory, almost as strong as her sixteenth birthday when she had worked her first spell. Something was in the air tonight. Misty very much hoped it wasn't that she was about to take a bullet to the forhead. Chalk dust rose around her in a shimmering veil, sparking with miniature eletrical discharges. Misty gathered her will and made a quick chopping motion. Energy stabbed down in a vortex which swirled around the toy compass like water circling a narrow drain. With a soft crack the spell was over and the needle on the compass swung deciviely to the south east. The spell was complete though arcane energy still crackled in the air.

The sensation of power swelled inside Misty. Suddenly she felt more than a vagrant squatting in a dance studio. She was a Witch. She was a Magus. Her eyes rose to meet Abbeline's. She wasn't going to let this mortal pissant push her out of her sanctum.

"A deal is a deal," she said in a cold steady voice.

Kendra had been planning for them to enter the building all roughly at the same time, but it seemed Grace had other plans as the spirit disappeared. Inside the studio, Kendra could hear the distorted sound of Tchaikovsky beginning to play.

"Well, guess we're going in right now," Kendra muttered under her breath. She was definitely going to have to have a word with Grace about her tendency to disappear and reappear without warning. Before she could make her way towards the front door, Mitra spoke up and handed her his jacket. "Uh, suuure," she said, awkwardly taking it before she witnessed Mitra's slow - and frankly excruciating - transformation. Kendra wasn't religious - it was hard to believe in any force that was both all-powerful AND benevolent when you saw half the things she had seen - but she had been raised catholic, and seeing something clearly demonic must have triggered some of those old religious habits because she found herself clumsily making the sign of the cross.

"Err, right," Kendra said when Mitra addressed her again, clearly surprised he was still able to talk in his current form. She quickly turned away and made her way towards the studio door. She paused to glance behind her again before awkwardly kicking open the door and making her way inside the building. She attempted to refocus herself, holding the gun in front of her as purposely as she could muster as she came into the view of Misty and Abberline. "Good evening," she said, trying to sound as nonchalant as she could muster given the circumstances. "Hope we're not interrupting."

Grace

Grace watched as Abberline reacted to the sudden music. However, she grew more antsy and worried when she saw that Misty completed the spell and enchanted the toy compass.

Abberline shouldn’t have it…!

Grace darted down to the compass and looked up to see Kendra entering with…

What was that monstrosity by her side?! Was that Mitra?!

She shook her head to shake off the horror and surprise she felt. As soon as Abberline’s attention was on the both of them, she manifested so that she could touch and be heard. Once again, she remained invisible in this manifestation.

She picked up the enchanted toy compass causing it to appear as though it was floating in the air by itself. It floated up until it was at Grace’s height before remaining there for a moment.

She gave a quick whistle to Mitra before throwing the compass to him and quickly dropping the manifestation before Abberline tries to fire at her.

The compass is thrown overhand, so it flies in an upward arc towards the ceiling at first before hopefully falling into Mitra’s talons.

@Candykane
"A deal is a deal," You say in a cold, steady voice.

"Of course." Abberline speaks an even reply before gesturing for you to hand over the compass.

Before you can act though, a second armed person and an unarmed demon make their entrance into your sanctum.

@XxFellsingxX
"Good evening," You say as nonchalantly as you can. "Hope we're not interrupting."

"Oh no, you aren't interrupting anything." Abberline says to you, utterly unfazed by your shotgun and demonic companion. "I'll just be taking this compass and heading off, Don't mind-" The sound of whistling comin from no discernible source interrupts Abberline then, and causes him to turn and see the compass floating in mid air.

@Guardian Angel Haruki
Abberline looks on in visible confusion as you hold the compass in front of him. Confusion turns to realization, and then to annoyance as you throw the compass to Mitra.

@RBYDark
Abberline rounds on you and Kendra as you snatch the compass out of the air. "I told you I am in no mood for games, witch!" Abberline barked over his shoulder. "The magic may fade if I shoot you, but I know killing your friends here will not break the spell!" With that said, Abberline takes aim and opens fire on you and Kendra.