Dash to Pieces – 11.1
Author: Wildbow

Dash to Pieces – 11.1 | Pale

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“Are mea,” Verona sang, enunciating each syllable as if it were it’s own word,  “Amaliche I appear, are mea…”

The music blasted, and her mom gave her a curious look.

“La dore, amaliche, are mea…” Verona sang, faking a deep voice.

“This is what you were doing on the beach with Tash?”

“Omen are, amaliche, cante me… Yes,” Verona posed for each burst of lyrics, dropping her hands as the rock solo started, the final word dropped in for the break in the singing.

“How many times have you listened to this, to have memorized it?”

“Litemea, dispeace, amaliche… Lots.”

“Is this what you all listen to?”

Verona turned down the music.  “Mostly me and Tash.  Lucy’s got a subscription service that Booker started and she picked up when he left for school.  Some cool stuff in there.  I let her sort through it and show me the highlights.”

“Booker’s gone off to University?  Time flies.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned that.  Or Jasmine has- have you talked to Jasmine like, at all?”

“Yes, but there were other focuses.”

“Beyond that, for stuff that isn’t emergency-level daughter stuff?”

“Does borderline emergency level your-dad stuff count?”

Verona made an exasperated sound, shook her head, and turned up the music again.  She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her hands into fists.  “Omen are emalita atempo!”

“What language is that?”

“I’m hoping it’s not a real language or I could be saying something I don’t want to.”

They drove into Kennet.

“It always feels like so little’s changed here.”

“More than you’d think.  But it’s like… secrets in a small town type stuff.  Blood in the streets, a struggling defense against invaders.  Killings, gunmen, cannibalism, underage drinking…”

“What shows are you watching?”

“…But the cannibal types are on the side of the good guys, I think.  When they aren’t too hungry.”

“Is this from a game?”

“There’s not much game about it.  It’s deathly serious.  But it’s the kind of serious where you have to joke about it and play it off as non-serious to your mom, while she’s all confused, you know?”

“I’m definitely confused.  I do like your imagination though.  I wish I could keep up with it.”

“I feel the same way when you talk about your work, sometimes,” Verona said, deciding it was best not to push things too far, fun as it was.  As important as it was to leave a trail of breadcrumbs in case something bad happened.

The car pulled up to Jasmine’s house.  Jasmine was sitting in the living room and saw as the headlights shone, getting up and going to the front door.

“What did you say to dad to get him to agree to this?” Verona asked.  Continuing on a tradition of bringing up important things as right as they were ready to go their separate ways.

“Does it matter?  Do you have your things?”

“Mom.  Did you pay him?  Or threaten him?  It matters if I’m eventually going back there.  I want to know what’s going on.”

“When we separated and when we divorced, I think we both wanted the process to be over with, we didn’t litigate it as much as we could have.  He was adamant he wanted the house, I gave him the house.  I wanted a bit more money to get set up in a new city, less than half of what the house was worth.  We split the bank accounts down the middle, hired lawyers for an afternoon to go over things, and then parted ways.  A few things weren’t discussed or brought up.”

“Things?  Secret money?  Dad had money all this time?”

“Money for retirement that’s hard to pull out of the accounts and investments, from early on.  I’ve always had the mindset that, if that’s the cost of an easy separation then I’m willing to pay it, and there’s a chance it’ll go to you anyway, or it should.  I reminded him it was a thing.”

“A threat, then, okay.”

“I don’t like think of myself as a threatening person.  It was more diplomatic than that.”

Sure.  “He might have spent it.”

“Whatever happened, it’s between your dad and me.”

“What about me?  Bank accounts and everything got split… and custody of me didn’t?”

“Oh honey,” her mom said, shifting position.  “Jasmine’s out there on the front steps, waiting patiently, and I’ve just finished half a day of driving.”

“I think she’d understand,” Verona said, quiet.

Her mom heaved out a big sigh.

“That bad, huh?” Verona asked.

“No.  No, not bad.  I hope not, anyway.  It seemed easy and streamlined, me leaving you with your dad while I got set up, and then with how bitter you were, and distance?  It felt easier to not force things.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you have your things?”

“Hope I’ve got all my stuff, yeah,” Verona said, stirring from the absorption of all of that.  “Are you going to say hi?”

“Yeah, in a minute.”

Verona took a bit to get her things.  Lucy stepped outside and leaned against the railing.

She carried her bags over, and Lucy hurried over to help.  Most of it was new stuff or borrowed Lucy stuff because she hadn’t gone home after the whole dad thing.  Duffel bag, old backpack, plus two big plastic bags filled with basics.  Lucy and Verona went up the front steps and dropped her bags off by the front door, and they stayed there by the door while Verona’s mom and Jasmine exchanged words by the car.

“Hey,” Lucy said.  She gave Verona a hug.

“Hey.  What’s this for?”

“Pretending we didn’t see each other an hour ago?” Lucy asked.

“Ha.  Sure.”

“How did you not get a tan after a week at the beach?”

Verona smirked.  “Took effort.”

“I can imagine.”

“And how’s your injury?” Verona asked.

“Sucks hiding it from my mom.  Looking forward to Tashlit getting back.”

“For sure, yeah.”

“Want to go for a walk later?  Check on some stuff?”

Verona nodded.

She looked over and down from the top of the stairs.  Jasmine and her mom were talking, both just inside the other’s personal space bubble, both sneaking glances at her, both with arms folded.

It felt less than super great, being the focus of this.

“All good?” Jasmine asked, as she saw Verona looking over.

There was a whole frigging magnitude of feeling and things Verona wanted to convey that words didn’t really suffice for.  She felt lost for words.

“Yeah,” she replied, quieter than she intended, before saying, “thanks,” with much more emotion behind it than she intended.

Jasmine smiled, small and fleeting.

“I’m going to hit the road, then,” her mother said.  “I’ll be in touch.”

“CAS-mandated,” Verona said, giving her mom finger-guns.

“Do you want to come in?” Jasmine asked.  “Tea or coffee?  We could catch up.”

“Caffeine for the road,” Verona prompted.

“Caffeine works very well on me but it leaves me feeling the opposite way when it passes.  I shouldn’t.  I’ll be getting home close to midnight, as is.”

“What about wine, then?” Jasmine asked.  Then before Verona’s mom could say something, added, “I could make up the couch for the night.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” her mom said, shaking her head, at the same time Verona nodded.  Verona frowned at her mom.

“If you’re sure.  I don’t mind.”

“I-” Verona’s mom started.  “Okay.”

They headed into the house, Lucy carrying one bag while Verona carried the other.  Her mom got a bag from the car.

“Avery was saying she’d like to meet tonight.  Catch up on everything,” Lucy said.

“It’s pretty late,” Jasmine said.

“For an hour?” Lucy asked.

Verona made a pleading gesture.

“I worry because I’m already hearing that the intake at the emergency room is twice what it normally is, and it’s been that way all summer.  I don’t know if there’s something going on downtown, or if it’s more widespread, but it doesn’t make me happy to think you’re all going out around when some parents would be setting curfew for their middle-grade daughters.”

“High school daughters,” Lucy countered.

“I think no.  If Avery wants to get dropped off, that’s fine.”

“Ugh,” Lucy grumbled.  She picked up the bag they’d brought into the front hall.  “Come on.”

Verona glanced back as her mom came in, and flashed a smile before following Lucy upstairs.

“Strategy meeting?” Verona asked.

“Yeah, and I’m anxious about a few things.  Avery and I were chatting after we left you at the rest stop.  Thinking about stuff, thinking about where all of this is going, what, um, our friends said, at the rest stop.”

“Do you think anyone’s listening in?” Verona asked.  “Culprits?  Others?”

Lucy shrugged.

Verona nodded, and they didn’t say anything as they got to Lucy’s room.  She dropped off her bags, ducked into the bathroom to take a whizz, wash her hands, and wash her face, combing hair down into a semblance of order.  Her bangs were long enough she had to brush them off to one side.  She’d trim them, but that meant getting little hairs everywhere.  She used wet fingers to push the bangs into place, and her hair was dense enough that it stayed.

She was grateful, she’d asked for this, but she wasn’t sure what to say or do now that she was here.  It felt different from the usual sleepover.  She felt the urge to do something, especially with emotions all jerky-janky after being uncoiled and released from the pressure of the last- the last long while.  Even if it was a temporary release.

She had to remind herself of this.  That it was temporary.  That through the grace of Jasmine being awesome and her mom helping out and CAS and a bunch of other factors, the biggest obstacle between her and her doing her best with the Carmine Beast situation was gone.  Temporarily.

This was temporary.

She dried her hands on her top.  Then she looked at herself in the mirror.  Temporary.  She went back to Lucy.

Lucy paused as she pushed the door open, phone in one hand, one hand on notebooks.  Verona closed the door, and Lucy opened the books, moving papers into view.  Spell stuff.

Connection blockers?

“What are we blocking?”

“We should still go out,” Lucy said.  “This’ll keep them downstairs and stuff.”

“Your mom’s been really cool, letting me stay.  I don’t want to make the first thing I do after getting here be disobeying her.  Feels wrong.”

Lucy frowned at her.

“Feels shitty.  It’s like, I’ve got this impulse to, I dunno, do stuff.  Like, picking up a broom and sweeping and doing laundry and helping out and-”

“That’d be weirder than usual for you.”

“You’re- ugh.  You get what I mean though?”

Lucy sat on her bed, putting a notebook beside her.  “Yeah.”

Verona hovered near the door, rootless.  “Least I can do is not be shitty.”

“This isn’t shitty.  This is important.  And I think it’d make things worse if you got so caught up in making things up to my mom that you made things uncomfortable, or, I dunno…”

“You just want to go out, huh?”

“I want to- I spent the last three days being hurt and miserable,” Lucy said, lifting up her shirt to prod the fat adhesive bandage she’d stuck over the wounds.  “Feeling like we’re not doing so great with all of this.”

“Sorry I wasn’t here.”

Lucy waved her off.  “Nah.  But like- we’ve got a deadline and I just lost so many days, thinking we needed to regroup and strategize and stuff, and now you’re back and we can and if we don’t then when?  What if my mom wants to take your mom and you out for breakfast tomorrow?  That could be the day gone until noon, and then later?  Shopping trip to buy food and stock up on foods you like?  It’s what she did with Booker and Alyssa when they turned up.”

“This is making me feel more guilty.”

“Be you, Verona.  Be my ally, I don’t want to keep feeling like we’re losing ground.  We’ve got a deadline and John’s counting on us.  Kennet’s counting on us.  And I’m really not trying to guilt you, but I feel guilty and I really don’t want to feel that way.  Please.”

Verona considered, then gave Lucy a single nod.  She reached for her bag and lifted it up onto the desk.

Lucy rose from her bed and took some posters down from the wall.  The alarm rune was there, protecting the space, and so were some specialized connection blockers.

Verona got out her things and paged through until she found her notes on countering augury and other methods of spying.  It was something their issues with the Belanger Augurs had really forced them to learn.

She drew the symbols necessary and then arranged the papers around the room.  She pressed two against the big window at one side of Lucy’s room.

It would obscure any vision of spying eyes and confuse any listening ears.

“We good?” Lucy asked.

She gave Lucy a nod.

Lucy finished the connection blocker, then stood back.  “How’s that?”

“Works.  How’s it with the earring?”

“The earring doesn’t interfere with the connection stuff.  I think because it’s… interpersonal?  How I present myself?”

Verona nodded.

“I didn’t think it would be this big a deal.”

“Regrets?”

“No.  Just- didn’t think it would have this much effect.”

“Could be it’s like practicing a muscle.  If you pushed past it enough, you could get back to where you were, and keep the benefits, maybe?”

Lucy gave her an exaggerated shrug in response.  “Maybe.  I’m not too bothered, it’s more that I’m having to adjust, still.”

Lucy turned, looked at the diagram, then picked up the posters she’d removed, all taped together into a single panel.  She draped them over the top of her dresser.

“So what’s the deal?” Verona asked.  “Why the need for this?”

“Because things feel weird,” Lucy said.  “Avery and I were talking about it.”

“Weird.”

Lucy drew in a slow and careful breath, eyebrows knitting together, as if she was trying to summon up- not courage, but the right ideas, maybe.  “Can we check the cube of meat is still out there?”

“The cube?  I mean, I guess, yeah, but why?”

“Because a lot of how we talk about this and think about this depends on whether it’s still there.”

“In a serious way?”

“Avery thought so.  She used a sports metaphor, who has the ball, you know?”

“We can check.  I’d need to get sorted though.”

“I’ll text her while you do that.”

Verona’s stuff was scattered across many bags, her stuff that had been in her bag before had been ruined and she’d salvaged what she could, copying some of it over.  But it wasn’t organized the way it had been when she’d been in Kennet, always going out, always with stuff she used more in easy reach with a quick unbuckling and reach inside, or a reach into side pockets.

She set the pieces of her mask aside, sorted out books, put pens and markers into her left pants pocket, ground up glamour from the flower Guilherme had given her in her right pants pocket with three folded up bits of paper with feathers sticking up out of them, ready to quickly deploy transformations.  Back right pants pocket held a stack of spell cards.

She pulled off her top and switched to a top Lucy had given her when she’d left to go spend two weeks with her mom.  It was a wide crop top, black, coming down to the ribs, and left her stomach exposed, the logo at the front had been ninety percent rubbed off.  She’d texted for permission, been told it was hers for keeps, and had picked off the remnants of the logo, tidying it up.  The way it fit and the wearing down around some of the seams at the shoulder suggested Lucy had worn it a lot, and she could feel how Lucy’s narrower shoulders had fit inside it.

Lucy wore a dark red top with near-black grey horizontally across the collar and shoulders, black track pants with red zig-zags down the sides, and sneakers.  Her stuff was all sorted already, nothing to pack.

Lucy’s habit was to wear really nice clothes, and the stuff she liked most that got anything less than nice became lounge-at-home and sleepover wear.  This one had graduated from that to Verona.  A bonus was that because Verona was smaller and shorter, she could wear it without it being too small.

There was a hood as part of the top, and she flipped it up while pulling her bag on, before letting the hood drape back over the top of the bag.  Short sleeved crop top with hood, pale jeans with watercolor staining near the base of the pants leg, shoes with drawings on them.

She touched her mask, then moved it aside.

“Avery’s ready to go.  Where should we meet her?”

“Shore, north of her side of the bridge.”

Verona took the anti-augury papers and handed one to Lucy, before taking one herself.

Even though Lucy had given her rationale, it still felt sorta bad.  Slipping away.

She had a glimpse through the window, saw Jasmine and her mom sitting on two different couches, Jasmine with her feet pulled up beside her, but each was sitting as close to one another as possible, glasses of red wine in hand.

It was nine at night, and it was dark, the sky a navy blue and the mountains framing Kennet black, the moon’s position insufficient to illuminate much of either surface, even though it could touch some of the thin clouds overhead.

The air was warm, and it was warm in a way that felt heavy, to the point Verona was conscious of the extra fabric of her jeans and glad that her stomach was exposed enough for the breezes to wrap around her.  The beach had been a bit different.

They stopped at the convenience store by the bridge, then as they stepped onto the sidewalk that ran along the bridge, and Verona felt paper rustle.  She nudged Lucy, who stopped.

They looked around, Sight on, and Verona spotted Nat.

“Doing okay, Nat?” Verona called out.

Nat nodded.

“Sorry to hear about the other goblins.”

Nat shrugged, looked around, then dropped out of sight.

“We’re being watched,” Lucy whispered, leaning in close.  “Or else they’re watching everything and watching us as part of that.”

“Yeah.  Figures.  Probably the best way for them to do it, if you’re keeping tabs on possible enemies, keep tabs on friends too, and that lets the culprits watch out for us.”

They made sure there were no other watching eyes, then moved on.

Paper rustled as they reached the far end of the bridge.  Lucy subtly elbowed Verona.

There were teenagers sitting on the slope, smoking and talking loudly, paper bags between them.  A girl squealed as a boy tackle-hugged her, bowling her over from a sitting position, knees against her chest, to a position where she was lying on her side, him on top of her.

The tiny embers of the cigarettes caught Verona’s eye.  The teenagers were smoking.

They walked away, and nobody followed.  If one of those cigarettes was Cig, it wasn’t disturbing the paper that was so sensitive to prying eyes and ears.  Maybe Cig had been watching for them and was willing to or forced to let them move on without following them, and maybe it was coincidence that Cig was watching that spot.

They found Avery and Snowdrop on the shore.

“Hey Ave.  Looking sharp, Snow,” Lucy said.

Avery wore running shorts and an athletic tee with a pocket, which seemed like an oxymoron when it came to the shirt’s purpose.  Her hair was in a ponytail but it was low to the neck and excluded a whole lot of hair on either side of her face.

Snowdrop wore a dress without sleeves that had a turtle-neck style folded collar that drooped enough it showed her neck and collarbone, the white material of the dress covered in graffiti-style sketches, some of it outlining an opossum.  There was a pocket at the front with much of the graffiti styled around it.  Text read: ‘Was wearing fanny packs before it was cool’.  She had eyeliner on that looked very intentionally scribbly and shaky, adding to that wide-eyed sense of alarm and unease that she very naturally carried.

“I have no standards to meet now.  I’m attached and that means I can let myself go.”

“Good attitude.”

“Where are we going?” Avery asked.

Verona pulled out the papers, handed Avery and Snowdrop one each, and then checked, making very sure they weren’t being observed.

“I don’t think it’s possible to be perfectly careful,” Lucy said.

“But the more careful we can be, the better,” Verona said.

She got a few blank notecards out of her pocket, which were ready to be made into spell cards, then made a quick-and-dirty paper airplane.  She handed papers to Avery and Lucy.  “Copy me.”

They copied her.  While they did the initial stuff, she wrote down some preliminary lines on the paper airplanes, reached into her pocket, and got a bit of glamour.

Glamour worked best by toying with the senses, conveying a false image that could become reality.  She triple checked they weren’t being observed, then used the glamour to rub at the side of her neck, just below the ear, then her armpit.

“Gross,” Lucy said.

“And not good for the glamour,” Verona noted.  It had worn down what she had pinched between fingertips.  “Hmmm.  Glamour of high summer, catch our scents.  Glamour of adventurer, hunter and beast, you should know this stuff.”

“Talking to it?” Avery asked.

“I don’t think it hurts,” Verona said.  She rubbed the glamour on the paper airplane, shook off the rest of it, and then finished the lines on her paper airplane.

Winding up, to the point she was nearly curled up on the ground, she sprang forward, heaving the paper airplane up and out.  Across the river.  Air runes picked up and caught the air, transmitting it across.

It would land and on impact, Verona hoped, it would burn up, destroying the evidence of the runes, the heat of the burn directed at paper and nothing else.

The smell and scent of her flew along with it, painting a false trail across Kennet.

Avery and Lucy followed suit, each of them mixing up multiple scents onto the paper airplane, including Snowdrop’s, before throwing them to different places.

She used more glamour on the heels of her shoes.  “No traces, no tracks, please.”

“We’ll need an excuse if anyone asks why there’s traces of glamour with our scent all over the place,” Avery said, wiping down her shoes.  “If anyone asks, I mean.”

Lucy shrugged.  “Blame the witch hunter.  We can even stop by where he was active so we can tell them we were checking on his hunting ground.”

“Works,” Verona replied.  “Ready?”

Nods all around.

When they walked on the parts of the rocky shore that had grit and sand in it, they left no footprints.  They had to avoid puddles that had collected in the same way grit had, so they wouldn’t wash off the glamour, but their passage left no trace.

Halfway up the shore, getting back toward the strips of residential buildings at the southwestern end of downtown, there were a number of houses and buildings perched at the edge of a slope leading down to the rocky shore.  Some had the benefit of retaining walls of slate-like rock and stuff, some grown over with dense moss.  Others had planted trees, to stop erosion, Verona was guessing.  The trees provided heavy visual cover.

They walked up, checking they weren’t being followed, and Verona threw her second paper airplane over downtown before looking around.

She pulled a pen from her pocket and uncapped it.  Beneath the cap, plastic had melted, and she’d sunken a key into the plastic mess.  She triple-checked they were clear, then hopped up to a street sign that was by a fire hydrant, standing on the hydrant.  The post had little plates sticking out, identifying the sub-roads of this corner of almost-downtown.  New st. and Rodden st.  They were held rigid to the post by bands of metal, cinched tight with fat screws.

She slid the key into the slot of one screw there, turned, and then moved it in a half-circle around the post.  The ‘Rodden st’ sign split in two as she passed it, and formed a third little signpost.  ‘Half st’.

Shadows deepened, then the light shone through, as if a cloud had passed over the moon and then let it shine brighter immediately after.  What looked like dense trees and a patch of nature at the corner of this area was opened up like an optical illusion had revealed itself, showing the narrow one-lane street that extended into the trees, and the tall, not-especially-taken-care-of house tucked into the trees.  The skeleton of a for-sale sign was set into the lawn, the top portion with the realtor’s face worn by weather, the lower half that hung from the horizontal part of the post had fallen off and was mostly covered in weeds and tall grass.

“City magic is so badass,” Avery said.

“Go,” Verona said.

They led the way.  She remained where she was, paper in hand, watching to make sure they weren’t followed, then withdrew the key.

The new street sign slowly slid back to where it was, and the shadows and light shifted too.  Verona kept her eyes on the prize, keeping the road from disappearing from her perceptions until she was through.  Trees rustled and road creaked faintly as she walked down the path.  There was no street behind her.

“How hard is this to find?” Avery asked.

“I think if you hung out around that particular patch of trees you’d see the seams but that doesn’t mean you could get in,” Verona said.  She capped the pen and slid it into her pocket.  “You should need the key or you’d need to be Ken, and Ken made himself forget.”

“Should,” Lucy said.  “It’s been kind of weird, not dropping by or checking.”

“Yeah,” Verona said.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t say that.  You needed to do what you needed to do.  I just worry…”

Verona got to the front door.  It wasn’t locked, so she pushed it open.

“…What if they took it back and we didn’t know?” Lucy asked.

They stopped in the front hallway, looking into the mostly empty living room.

“They didn’t take it back,” Avery noted.

It was there.  Safe, untouched.  A shallow pool of blood extended about a foot in every direction from the cube, and more blood traced its way along floorboards.

The house was dark, lit by moonlight sifting in through dusty windows, and the floorboards were slightly uneven.  Furniture had been left behind by the people who’d been selling the property, but it was uneven in terms of what had been kept and what had been left behind.  No couch beneath the window, but the square of floorboards where it had been were still there, slightly lighter than the surrounding ground.  There was an armchair, then a stack of boxes collecting dust where the other armchair had been.  There was an old fashioned cast iron stove with a metal chimney extending up to and through the ceiling, but from the looks of it water had seeped down and rusted the top end near where it met the ceiling, and the door, Verona knew, didn’t close all the way.  Ambient moisture had made the ash still in the base of the fireplace all crumbly and flat.

“Now’s a good time to let me know the thought process,” Verona said.

“We were talking about how the Others were handling stuff.  What they were doing,” Avery said.  “The metaphorical ‘ball’ isn’t in their possession but they don’t seem really frantic, you know?”

“They’re definitely more active, and more sloppy,” Lucy said.  “Edith especially.  But it doesn’t feel scared.”

Avery walked over a few paces, leaning against the inside of the doorframe that divided living room and front hallway.  Her eyes were misty with Sight.  “Be careful about saying names.  It makes a connection appear, and saying it too many times might make a trail to follow.”

Lucy nodded.

Verona frowned.  She slipped past Avery and crossed the room, approaching the cube, careful not to get the blood on her shoes.  “Is it that they aren’t scared because they think they’ll win anyway?”

“How?” Lucy asked.  “Isn’t the entire idea that John takes the throne, they challenge him?”

“I’m still not sure why it has to be that he takes the throne first,” Avery interjected, still leaning against the doorframe, hands behind her back to cushion the point where her spine would press against the jutting wood.

“I think it’s coup and claim stuff, like Bristow and Alexander taught us,” Verona said.  She moved a bit of the fur, feeling how soft that red fur was.  “Like… imagine a scenario where our soldier friend doesn’t.  A culprit puts on the clothing made from the red furs, they take the seat, and then the challengers come.  And most of those challengers are nobodies, they still have a huge claim, because they’re wearing the furs and everything, they might have other benefits, but each challenger is counting a bit of coup.  Just by saying hey no, you don’t deserve that seat, over and over again, they whittle down the claim.”

“And the other way around?” Lucy asked.

“I think it’s our soldier friend taking the seat, fending off the challengers, getting a bit of claim from the other three judges wanting him in that spot, and then our culprit shows up and is all, ‘You did well, soldier guy, but I have more claim to that spot than you.’  Bam.”

“Splat,” Snowdrop echoed her.

“That too,” Verona replied.

Lucy shook her head.  “Which takes us back full circle to the big fat question of why they aren’t freaking out.  And I have this sick little feeling in my stomach that makes no sense, but… what if we have it wrong?”

“There’s a lot of backup for what we’re saying,” Avery said.  “The Judges themselves, the fortune teller in the High Fall court…”

“But none of them know for absolute sure who did it, I don’t think,” Lucy replied.  “And this sick feeling in my gut is… what if it’s our soldier friend?  What if we have it wrong and he would get both coup and claim?”

“Hasn’t he said he doesn’t want it?” Verona asked.  “But he’ll take it anyway?”

“Could be he doesn’t want it but he needs it?” Lucy asked.  “What if our soldier friend isn’t a friend but a major culprit, we screwed up when interviewing him or jumped to conclusions, and the furs are… I dunno.  Secondary?”

“E was making clothes, right?” Avery asked.

“Yeah,” Verona replied.

“She was doing lots of stuff,” Lucy said.  “You have it?”

Avery nodded.  She got her bag out, and pulled out a thermos.  She uncorked it, then set it on a table.  She pulled out a syringe.

“Dark fall in manufacture,” Lucy noted.  “And inside, still inside, is a bit of…”

Lucy trailed off, looked around, and found a candlestick.  She gave it a waggle.  “…doom.”

“What the heck?” Verona asked, quiet.

“Estrella confirmed the manufacture, ninety-five percent certainty, Nicolette confirmed the Doom for what it is, ninety percent certainty,” Lucy explained, as she entered the living room and sat on the arm of the armchair.  “We sent them pictures.”

“Where was it?”

“Between the sink cabinet and the wall in the cabin.  We went back with Melissa,” Avery said.

“Told you part of that,” Lucy said.  “Trying to take the more compassionate, cooperative approach.  Then the Witch Hunter happened.  Bit of a reality check for Melissa, I think.”

Verona took the syringe and carefully examined it.  The black liquid within bubbled, swirled, and then the face, white, poked out, pressing against glass.  Edith’s face.

“So she was making clothes, she was doing something with this…” Avery said, trailing off.  “Can I see?”

Verona held up the syringe, but Avery indicated the furs.

“Go ahead.  Or if you’re squeamish…”

“The meat and blood part of it is a little bleh,” Avery said.  “I could stomach it but if you don’t mind, I’d rather not.”

“No prob,” Verona replied, walking over.  She went to the clothing in progress she’d thrown over top.

A tunic, fur scraped off, strands a foot long braided together and used for the stitching.  There was more fur cut into shapes that looked like they’d puzzle together into pants or a jacket or something.

“Thanks,” Avery said.  “Gender ambiguous.  Looks like they had a lot more to do.”

“So, again, I’m circling back, sorry I keep doing that,” Lucy said.  “Why?”

“Why take the furs, why go to this effort, why protect them, why not be more concerned they don’t have them anymore after all of that?” Verona asked.  “There’s a lot of why.”

“I’ve got one tricky answer to that last question,” Snowdrop said.  “They can’t take the furs back.  So why stress over it?”

Verona frowned at Snowdrop.

“What?  They can take the furs back, because… Small town K is on their side?” Avery asked.

“Something he prepared in advance?” Lucy asked.  “He might have forgotten, but if he set up the place and talked to others about where he’d put them if he could before…?”

“That raises a bunch of other questions!” Verona exclaimed.  “Like what?  Kennet itself is against us?”

“I’m only theorizing,” Lucy answered.

“What the frig?” Verona asked.  “Frig!”

“It could be something else,” Lucy said.  “But this is something I’ve been miserable over for the last… almost a whole week now.  We’re constantly reacting, we’re stressing out over complications that get thrown in our ways, like your dad, sorry-”

“Blah.”

“-and the Witch Hunter, and Chloe attacking me, and the kid, Bridge, and McKay slipping in through the perimeter…”

“Blah,” Verona repeated herself.  “Yeah.”

“So… goes back to what we said to Miss and Rook,” Lucy said.

“Going after…” Verona trailed off.  Lucy held up the candlestick.  “…Yeah.”

“How sure are we?” Avery asked.

Verona walked over to the window, kicking a bit of plastic that had fallen under the couch once upon a time and gotten stuck to the floor there.  It broke free and danced across the floorboards, popping up as it hit one uneven bit of wood.  “She was at the cabin.  To not know the furs were down there would take something extreme.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said.  “I could see a theoretical universe where she was compelled to guard it.  By her husband or something.  Slim odds there.  She was there, she probably played a part in drawing up the explosive runes like the one on the door.”

Verona nodded emphatically.

“She and her husband didn’t answer the phone when the Witch Hunter came at us, Melissa, and the ghouls,” Avery said.

“She fought me on the binding when I was securing the factory against the rampaging ghoul, someone destroyed the binding.  Then she- this is speculation but my instinct says it’s right, she used fire and got guy-faerie hurt and disoriented, then scared our rampaging ghoul off in my direction.  I could have died and it would have been sort of a plausible death.”

“Sorry I wasn’t there,” Avery said.

“Same,” Verona echoed.

“No,” Lucy said.  “I don’t need to hear that.  You had reasons.”

“Speaking of, how’s the head?” Verona asked.

“Hurts,” Avery said.  “It helps that it’s dark and quiet here, my house isn’t either.  Even walking around makes my head pound.”

Snowdrop bonked her head into Avery’s shoulder, snuggling up against her.  Avery put a hand on Snowdrop’s head.

“All three of the people who took us on the camping trip were dodgy with some info when it came to Yalda being a sick dog and not just a black dog,” Avery said.

“This isn’t going to be one of those situations where we get to gather the information and do a big badass whodunnit moment, huh?” Verona asked.

“No,” Lucy replied.  “Probably not.  This is looking like a ‘we were on their trail for a long time and let the evidence stack up until we were sure enough to make a move.  I think we’re sure enough.”

“Okay,” Verona said.

“So we’re sure enough,” Avery said, nodding.  She winced and pressed a hand against the base of her skull.  “Either she did it or is compelled and if she’s compelled then bringing her into custody would be to her benefit anyway.”

“Yeah,” Lucy replied.

“How do we go about this, then?” Verona asked.  “I feel like even our friends among the Others are going to freak out a bit when we make our move.”

“I’ve been stressing out over how we actually handle the, for lack of a better word, arrests, for a while,” Lucy said, folding her arms.  “And the power we have, what we can get away with… stuff.”

“When I went to check in with the Judges, I asked if they could give us any kind of protection,” Avery said.  “They kind of said no.  Uhh, as I remember it, the protection we get for taking care of Kennet is what we get, karmically speaking.  We make our own karma.”

“I’m finding myself struggling to realize what the point of them is,” Lucy said.

“But they did say there was room for, um, what’s the word?”

“No ums,” Lucy prodded.

“Hmmmm, what’s the word?” Avery restated, with an annoyed degree of emphasis.  She seemed more testy than usual.  The headache, probably.  Avery snapped her fingers a few times, then rubbed at the back of her neck again.  “Ugh.”

“Withholding,” Snowdrop said.  “Gathering?  Deduction.  Abstention.”

“Not helping me here, Snowdrop,” Avery said.

“Dispensation?” Verona asked.

“Thank you, yes.  Exactly.  Thanks.”

“Snowdrop pointed the way.”

Avery rolled her eyes a bit.  “Thanks Snowdrop.”

“Get bent.  Don’t ask me for anything ever again.”

“Dispensation,” Avery stated, again.

“Good word,” Verona said.

“I think we could use them to, I dunno, say we’ve got this amount of good karma, would they please put that karma toward doing this one specific thing, you know?  But even there it seemed like… hmm, they’d rather we figure that out for ourselves?”

“My Faerie mentor keeps doing this ‘I won’t give you the answer you want, but I’ll help you along your journey to find it’ thing,” Lucy said.  “It’s super obnoxious.  I think he forgets I don’t live for hundreds or thousands of years and I don’t have the time to do all that slow, rich figuring crap out stuff.”

“Yeah.  I think these guys are similar,” Avery said.

“Again, what’s the point of them?” Lucy asked.

“I think they handle the stuff that’s really broken,” Verona said.  “There wasn’t anything super relevant in the books, but there were figures that seemed judge-like who would set quests and point the right people in the right ways to handle anything that was really bad.  In other places you get Lords and committees deciding what needs handling.  The Others who are threatening the seal of Solomon, monsters too big for any one person to defeat, breaches between worlds, stuff.”

“Stuff,” Lucy said.  “Not very helpful to us, that stuff.”

“We know they also hear appeals on forswearing.  Our local forsworn ex-practitioner tried once or twice,” Avery said.

“How is he that unsure about how many times he tried?” Verona asked.

“Could be like how you go knock on the door of the dentist and nobody answers, did you go to the dentist that time?” Avery suggested.

“Weird example but sure,” Verona replied, flashing a smile to make the words less of a shut-down.

“Could be he was messing with us,” Lucy said.  “Unwilling to be exact.”

Verona nodded to herself.  She moved some of the fur around, then stepped back, frowning at it, and took a running start before giving it a firm kick.  It was heavy enough it barely budged.

“What was that?” Avery asked.

“Double checking for glamour.”

“Huh.  Good thinking.”

“We could start greeting each other that way,” Verona said, smiling.

“Let’s not beat each other black and blue before the bad guys get a chance to,” Lucy said.  “Speaking of, we have some secret help from Miss and Rook.  We have maybe help from the judges… we have the practitioners outside of Kennet.  Zed, Nicolette, Tymon, Fernanda, Estrella, Liberty…”

“Could we ask them to go check in with the judges?” Avery asked.  “One of the students?”

Lucy made a face.

“Or not?” Avery asked, quizzical.

“It’s a day long trip to get there and a day to get back unless you teleport or something.  I get why you’re asking,” Lucy said.  “That’s a long time for any of us to be away from home.  But that’s a big obligation for them, and it’s really hard for them to handle it without us telling them stuff that we really should keep secret, for Kennet’s sake.”

“Back on the day of the party I went because I needed to clear my head and that was cool,” Avery said.  “But now?  We keep getting hurt and I want to protect you guys.  I don’t want to leave you unless I absolutely have to.”

“And yourself,” Verona said.  “Protect yourself.  How are we going to introduce you to some super cool deserving-of-Avery girl if you’re dead or maimed, huh?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“No uhs,” Verona warned.

“I think I get an exception when someone’s being that out of nowhere with a random tangent.”

“That’s the exact kind of moment you should be super cool and confident.  Unflappable, badass Avery,” Verona told her, grinning.

“Sure.  I’ll keep that in mind for a bit.”

“It’s something I’m thinking about, just so you know.  I want you to be happy.”

“I- uh, thanks, Verona.”

“We’ll work on the unflappable thing some more,” Verona said.

“Right.  It’ll help when my brain doesn’t feel like it’s being kicked in the brainstem and left to roll around a gravel pit.”

Verona glanced at Lucy, who had fallen quiet, and who was staring at the furs.  “We could ask our friends.  Who we met outside of town.”

“Hmm?” Lucy roused from her thoughts.

Verona answered, “To go see the judges.  Means we’re not away.  I don’t want to exactly disappear and let some fake me take my spot in our house so soon after your mom took me in, I don’t imagine you want to go, and Avery shouldn’t be the one to take a hike every time we see the Judges.  We could ask our sketchy Oni friend or our Lost-but-recently-found mentor, hm?”

“Yeah,” Lucy said.  “I’m pretty sure either one of them can get back pretty soon.  But I’m thinking more… justice, arrest, the judges, you know?”

“Yeah.  I get you.  What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking… we definitely need to bring her in,” Lucy said, waggling the candlestick.  “Whatever they’re doing, they have a plan and that plan either means getting the furs back or not needing the furs, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Avery said.

“And they had a murder weapon, if you want to phrase it that way, in the Choir, but they’re not acting like they need that back either.”

“Yep.  They’ve even had chances to secure the Choir or go after Brie and they didn’t,” Verona confirmed, a bit eager.  Had Lucy figured something out?

Lucy nodded.  She stood with arms folded, fingers tapping rapidly against the back of her upper arm.  “I have no idea what their angle is.”

Verona groaned.

“But- but-”

Verona kept groaning.

“I’ll hit you if you keep that up.”

Verona kept groaning until Lucy started to move toward her, and shut up.

Lucy found her balance again, then shook her head.  “I do know- I do think, we need to screw with their plan.  If our candle spirit is an agent on their side, let’s take her out of the equation.”

“Yeah,” Avery said.  “But then we circle back to the big question of… how?  She has friends…”

“Her husband, the female Faerie, Charles, and any number of the new Others, possibly our resident, border-powering horror,” Lucy noted.  “Yeah.  So I’m envisioning us making a move with authority.  The Judges.”

“We’re going in circles,” Verona groaned.

“No, we’re- we are going in circles but here’s where I think this one circle stops, and it all starts lining up.  If they handle what’s broken, and if they handle forswearing, and if they’re more about righting wrongs than encouraging right…”  Lucy paused.  Verona cocked her head.  “…What if we go after our lady of the candle?  And we use them to get a very specific result we want?”

“Arresting her,” Avery said.

Lucy nodded.

“Judges,” Verona said.  “Candle lady promised us things and she’s failed in that, right?”

“Promised us information, she withheld critical details.  Both in the interview with her, and stuff about important things like binding,” Lucy said.

Verona held up a finger.  Avery, Snowdrop, and Lucy all looked at her.

“Why are you holding up a finger like that?” Avery asked.

“I think we should have three points to argue,” Verona said.

“She promised me safety and she put me in grave risk,” Lucy said.  “Letting the ghoul come at me like she did.”

Avery nodded, then winced.  “She’s never once been the Other who stepped up, allowed herself to be summoned or otherwise put herself in harm’s way.  John, Toadswallow, the goblins, Miss, Guilherme, they’ve all stepped up, haven’t they?  At different times?”

“That’s pretty telling all on its own,” Verona said.  She held up a second finger.

“I… you guys keep doing this!” Avery groused.  “You leave me until last after you’ve taken up the easy answers.  For random rhymes for the nettlewisp and stuff.”

“I came up with both of those, actually,” Lucy said.

“No pressure or anything, don’t worry,” Verona told Avery.

“Ugh.  I have one idea, though.”

“Please.”

“It’s not… she didn’t technically swear, but she didn’t say no, either.  When I made my pledge, I pledged fairness and equality.  And they haven’t been fair or equal as leaders.  They disarmed us, they pushed us down, they said we’d have a vote and we really haven’t, yet, not formally, not as part of the meeting.”

“Even the meeting structure sucked.  They were dicks,” Verona said.

“Yeah.  Right?” Avery asked.

“I think that works,” Lucy said.

“Three times we were wronged,” Verona mused aloud, “That deserves righting.  We can ask for the judges to hand us the ability to right the wrong.  If they can control how karma happens, then let that karma be protection during and immediately after the arrest.  Access to any power that might be held back from us as we try to put it into effect. We need answers from her so we’re not asking for her to be forsworn.”

“That unmakes the Other which feels like ass, even if it’s her,” Avery said.  “Yeah, for sure.”

“We can say we intend to secure a binding.  Take any karmic backlash she deserves and put it to that binding, to our protection.  So we can bring her into secure custody and keep her there until summer’s end,” Verona suggested.

“Cutting her off from co-conspirators,” Lucy said.

Verona nodded.

“And if she’s being forced to act, this protects her, and it’s not karmically unjust,” Avery said.

“You’re more optimistic than I am,” Lucy said.

“I want to believe the best in people.”

“Even smelly trash children?” Snowdrop asked, looking up at Avery.  “Terrible.”

“How about you, Snow?” Lucy asked, arms folded.  “Do your Other senses tell you this feels right or wrong?  Anything stand out?”

“It seems like a terrible idea.”

“We should tell our other Lost friend then,” Lucy said.

“I can,” Avery said.  “Maybe she’s found Tashlit and is giving her the low-down, and I can get this headache cured.”

“We can hope,” Lucy told her, rubbing gingerly around her ribs and stomach.

“I can go now, then.  I’m fast, I can get to the outskirts of town, I’ll watch my trail, try and make sure not to tip them off, get back home before curfew.”

“Please,” Verona said.  “If moving around doesn’t make your head hurt too bad?”

“I’ll manage, I think.  Do I need to do anything special to leave this place?”

“No.  Move in a straight line.  Just make sure you aren’t seen,” Verona told her.

“Cool,” Avery replied, holding up the paper with the anti-augur stuff on it.  “Coming, Snow?”

“No way.  Seeing Miss, awful idea.”

“We’ll hang out tomorrow, kay?” Verona asked.

“For sure,” Avery said, flashing a smile.  She still seemed a bit diminished.  She put a hand on Snowdrop’s shoulder as Snowdrop headed for the door.

The pair of them ran off, the door creaking as it opened, then it banged shut.

“I hope she gets her head healed.  And you your stomach.”

“Yeah.  Frig,” Lucy muttered.

Verona turned, taking in the room, and the vaguely cube-shaped bundle of meat with the one corner disintegrated, the clothing in progress loosely piled up there.

“I was such an asshole to Avery, the last few days,” Lucy murmured.

“Huh?”

“If you hadn’t come back when you did I think I might’ve done some long-term harm to our friendship.”

“What the heck?  Explain,” Verona told Lucy.

“She was hurting, she was alone, she tried to reach out, and I was busy feeling sorry for myself.  Hurt, Booker gone, having to leave out information for my mom, mostly staying in my room, trying to think of a good way through this whole situation, you know?”

“Ah.”  Verona released the word as a bit of a half-release of breath more than anything.

“Yeah,” Lucy said, one side of her mouth pulling back hard, disappointed, upset.  “I was scared.”

That disappointment and upset gave way to something else, fleeting, deeper, vulnerable.  Lucy looked away a moment later.

Verona could understand that.  The look away.  That fleeting reveal of something deeper.

“It was a close call?”

“Really, really close.  And then I was scared too, of what if being in close contact with a ghoul infected me.  Close calls with death, right?”

“I don’t think it works exactly like that but… sure.”

“I wanted to ask someone for clarification on that but didn’t know who to trust, and didn’t really trust anyone, for a little bit there, and I didn’t even want to go outside.”

“And Avery?” Verona prodded.

Lucy shrugged.  “I didn’t think- I should have realized.  I wasn’t good about responding to messages and she was miserable and I ignored her, and it turns out being ignored is kind of a super huge way to screw with Avery’s head, you know?”

“I do.  She’s explained that stuff.”

“If you hadn’t come back and I’d let that continue then I could’ve- frig.  I was scared.”

Verona walked over and reached out.

She punched Lucy hard in the arm, once, then twice.

“What the- stop that, ow!  That hurt!”

“You deserved that!”

“Probably but ow!”

Verona jabbed Lucy.  “Avery’s cool and helpful and this whole thing with bringing her in is really tough on her because we’ve known each other forever and you ignore her?”

“Extenuating fucking circumstances, Ronnie!”

“Yeah, for sure, but fuck you for hurting Avery, and fuck you because you were ignoring me too while you were busy feeling sorry for yourself!”

“I’m trying to frigging find a way to deal, Ronnie, without blowing up like I did with Paul!”

“Talk to me?  Send me a frigging mail?  You say you didn’t know who to reach out and talk to?  Me!  Me me me me or Avery or your mom or me!  I can frigging take it, Luce!”

“It was more complicated than that!”

“We are cosmically frigging bound together, you jerk!  We agreed to handle this crap together and yeah, I was going through stuff but you can talk to me any freaking time, you know that?  Share!  I’m not that screwed up, that I can’t hear you out?  Because when you send me a mail like you did?  Love love love frowny face?”

“Oh my god, so embarrassing.”

“That was lovely I love that you sent that but then I asked for clarification and you gave me next to nothing except to shut me down and you didn’t reply after that!  So fuck you!  Worst of both worlds when I can tell something’s wrong and you won’t let me help!”

Verona jabbed at Lucy and Lucy pushed back and they scuffled for a second.

“Frig off!” Lucy grunted.  “Ow!  Ow!”

“Frig you!  I deserve better than that and so does Avery and so do freaking you so frig off!”

“Okay!  I’ll frig off or something!  Stop poking and jabbing and punching me!” Lucy started hitting and poking and pinching back, so Verona trapped her arms at her side in a tight hug.

They both panted for breath.  Lucy jerked, like she was going to go for a jab or a pinch, but Verona didn’t let her, and they stopped like that, Verona’s chin on her friend’s shoulder.

“Avery needs something like this too,” Lucy said.  “The big intense hug.  It’s harder to figure out.”

Verona thought of how diminished Avery had seemed.  It wasn’t just the headache.

“Okay,” Verona said.  “Absolutely.”

“I was really scared.”

“I know.  I’m sorry,” Verona said, eyes welling up.  “Is it better than it was?  Being scared?”

“It helps to move, to come here, to figure stuff out.  I spent so long in my room, thoughts going in circles like we were doing tonight, I didn’t want to do it again.”

“Okay.  But we’re on our way to better?” Verona asked.

“I’m glad you’re going to be around, staying over.”

Verona nodded.

“You’re so short your chin digs into my shoulder when you nod.”

“Mmm.”

“I think mom was going to ask you if you wanted Booker’s room or if you wanted to stay with me in my room,” Lucy said.  “Unless you have a major objection-”

“I’ll stick with you.”

“Okay.  Thanks.”

They remained like that.  Lucy sighed.

“I bet Booker and Alyssa boned a bunch of times on that other mattress anyway, so-”

“Ugh!” Lucy replied, pushing Verona away and out of the hug.  She turned away.  “Did not need to think about that.”

Verona cackled.

Lucy walked over to the window and looked outside.  “Let’s head back?  Furs are still here, no sign anyone’s been around…?”

“No,” Verona said, double checking.  “I think this is a pretty hard place to get at.  We can set traps later.”

“Cool,” Lucy said, nodding, still looking out the window.  She used the heel of one hand to wipe at the corner of her eye, then used the other hand for the other eye.  She rubbed at her right elbow, then her left forearm.  “Let’s go.”

They left the little locked-away copse of trees around the Half street house, checking the papers before they emerged from the woods.  No observers, glamour still intact, no trail.

“You know my mom’s going to go out of her way to be super nice to you, right?”

“I don’t want any special treatment, I just want… I dunno.  Regular life?  With you guys?”

“I think she’s happy to do it.  She loves having Booker around too, same sort of idea.  It’s not enough, having me around, maybe.”

Verona punched Lucy in the arm, light.

“Don’t- don’t you- no.”

Verona smirked.  “You’re not insufficient.”

“She likes having more than just me around.  That’s not me saying I’m insufficient.”

“So long as you admit it.”

“She likes having you around so don’t stress, okay?  Yeah?  Say it or I’ll punch you in the arm.”  Lucy cocked an arm, ready to deliver the punch.

“Okay,” Verona said, quiet.

Lucy lowered her arm.  “Breakfast out with you and your mom tomorrow, I’m betting, and then possible shopping, maybe.”

“Covered a lot of bases with my mom.”

“It’s about taking care of you.”

Verona nodded.

Lucy gave her a one-armed hug.

They didn’t really talk the rest of the way.  Across Kennet at night, a siren briefly sounding in the distance, two whoops.  The sky was closer to black, speckled with stars, and the ski hills on either side of town were only differentiated because they had no stars.  The clouds in the sky had no moonlight to brighten them, so they were more of a lack of stars, but they shifted and moved as the wind blew.

The air felt hot, heavy, and sticky, and Verona couldn’t help but feel like it was sticky with blood, and the only thing was that she couldn’t see, smell, or directly feel it.

They let themselves inside, snuck upstairs, and then got stuff put away.  Verona briefly touched her broken mask, while Lucy stepped out into the hall.

“Mom?” Lucy called down.

“Still up.  Living room!”

They’d known that.  But they ventured downstairs.

“What’s up?” Jasmine asked.

“Can Avery come over?”

Jasmine glanced at the clock.  “It’s late, I don’t know…”

“It’s vitally important,” Lucy said.

“She’s been lonely, we think,” Verona said.

“I suggested we invite her over a couple nights ago,” Jasmine said.  “Lucy wasn’t up to it.”

Verona gave Lucy a hard look and cocked a fist, without delivering the punch.  Lucy glanced away.

“Please,” Lucy said.  “I can pay for her if we’re going out for breakfast tomorrow or something.”

“You really want to go to the bakery for Montreal style bagels, don’t you?” Jasmine asked.

“I do,” Lucy said.  “Please.”

“Of course.  Maybe for brunch, so we can sleep in?”

That got emphatic nods from both Verona and Lucy.  Jasmine gave Verona’s mom a glance.  “Or do you have to be on your way?”

“I think I have to keep these girls happy, because they seem to want it so much.”

“Okay.  Why don’t we call Avery’s parents and see about her coming over?  Be ready for them to say it’s too late.”

“Can I call?  I’ll check with Avery first?” Lucy asked.

Jasmine nodded.  “Before you go, let me know, you have two options, Verona, if you want me to make up Booker’s bed or-”

“Lucy’s room,” Verona said, at the same time Lucy said, “My room.”

Verona’s mom laughed at that.

“Okay,” Jasmine said, smiling.  “Silly me for asking, I guess.”

Lucy made the call right away, checking in with Avery.  They had to time things so she could get to Miss, communicate what needed to be communicated, and then get back home, so her parents wouldn’t go to check on her and ask how she was, only to find her gone.

There were probably better ways to juggle all of this, and Verona tuned out some of it, focusing on getting stuff put away and removing tags from newly bought clothes.

They changed into stuff to sleep in, and got settled, not to sleep but to go over books, Verona sketching and taking notes, while Lucy browsed on her laptop and made the phone calls.

It took Avery about thirty minutes to arrive.  The lights were dimmed as she cracked the door open, and Verona waved her in.

“Heya,” Lucy said.

“Hey.  Snow’s out gallivanting around with goblins, so she’ll be tired tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Lucy said.

Avery got into her stuff and started getting changed.  She glanced over, her back turned, “Miss told me, if everything goes like we hope it will, about… twenty three and a half hours from now, eleven o’clock tomorrow, she’ll talk to the Sable Judge and then they’ll reach out and let us know.”

Verona nodded.  “Good.  Sounds like Miss thinks it might work?”

“Think so,” Avery replied.  her back still turned as she pulled on a camisole top.

“Did you get your head cured?” Verona asked.

“Yep.  Tashlit’s okay, weirdly tanned, um, hmm, yeah.  Never been so glad to see that many eyeballs.”

“Cool,” Verona said.

Avery turned around, then approached the bed, looking to see how she could find a spot.  Lucy shuffled over, moving her feet.

Verona pointed toward the window.  Avery turned, looking, and Verona lunged, rising up out of the bed, and hauled her down, backwards, onto the bed.  Avery lay there, barely on the edge of the bed, Verona holding her from behind, feet still on the ground.  After about ten seconds she tried to get her feet up onto the bed, failed twice, and succeeded on the third try.  They shuffled over so Avery wasn’t constantly on the verge of falling off the bed.

“Missed you,” Verona said.  “Sucked.”

“Yeah,” Avery said, quiet.

“This is pretty uncomfortable, lying like this,” Verona noted.  “Too warm on a summer night.”

“I sleep with Snowdrop sprawled in my bed sometimes, I’m getting used to it.”

“How do you manage that with two other people in your room?” Lucy asked.

“Sheridan doesn’t care what I do a lot of the time, and Kerry’s a bit of a ditz.  It’s not that hard.  Mostly I stow her in my bag.”

“Want to readjust, rearrange?”  Verona asked.

“No,” Avery said, sighing.

Well then.

“Missed you guys too,” Avery said, quiet.

Guys, plural?  Verona kicked backwards at Lucy, and Lucy punched her lightly in the back of the head for retaliation.  Avery twisted, lifting her head up, checking what was going on.

“Sorry, Avery,” Lucy said.

“Nah.  Happens.”

Verona grabbed a pillow, and stuck it under Avery’s head before she could settle it back down.  “There.”

“Thank you.”

In the end, they couldn’t stick it out like that.  It was hot, so they shuffled around, Avery got up to use the washroom, and rather than settle back down, they decided she’d move to the cot Lucy kept in her room that Verona sometimes slept on.  Verona switched around so she slept lying in the opposite orientation as Lucy, a gap between them.  It meant they could all sit up a bit and face each other.  They remained up for a bit, chatting some, Verona browsing pictures and showing them pictures of the beach, of Tashlit, and Sir.  Sir was a bit lost on Avery, who was more of a dog person.

Somewhere in the midst of it, Lucy turned off the lights and neither Verona nor Avery complained.

All of them were tired, from journeys, from emotional exhaustion, from thinking too hard.  None slept easily.  In the gloom, Verona could see Avery’s eyes glowing like mist, here and there, and Lucy’s with the whites swapped out for a deep red.

Less than a day and with any luck, we’ll arrest Edith… Verona thought.  And by doing that, we’ll throw everything into disarray.

The clock by Lucy’s head ticked its way from 11:20 to 11:50, and in those thirty minutes of watching the minutes pass, her thoughts wandering over what was coming, Verona’s heart didn’t stop or slow its drumming beat of apprehension over the implications.

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