False Moves – 12.4
Author: Wildbow

False Moves – 12.4 | Pale

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No time for rest.  Even their sleeping hours were now a get-crap done sort of time.

Verona stretched on the cot, then felt that tilt-jolt that so often woke her up when she was just getting to sleep.  Her eyes opened, and she found herself looking up at Alpeana, who was frowning and looking off to the side.

“Ye’r ‘ave tae put up wi’ a wee falling dream tae get ye on yer way.  I’m so behind on my work, meetings’n no’ running ye ’round, a lad supposed tae get ‘is fifth recurrin’ ‘n’ he’s nae sleepin’ a’ all last two nights.  Lil’ bugger is on tae me, I think.”

Verona was in the midst of parsing all that and was in the middle of the part where Alpy was giving some kid his fifth recurring nightmare when she backtracked a sentence to: “Falling?”

Alpeana put a hand on Verona’s chest, then pushed her down.  The tilt worsened, and Verona fell through the cot, and the darkness of Lucy’s bedroom broke up, swirling like vapor.

Then she was falling through dark clouds at night, each cloud lined silver by moonlight.

A monochrome nightmare, like a black and white movie.  Verona plummeted, squinting as cold moisture in the air stung her eyes and blinded her.  The clouds parted, and the ground came into view.

This was a dream, with dream logic.  She had to expect the glamour to be there, because of course it was.  Always in the same pocket-

She found the papers and feather.

Centipedes flowed out of her pockets as she gripped the papers, nipping at her fingers.  Her arm jerked back and the feathers and papers scattered.  She snatched at one and fingertips scraped against the flat face of the paper, pushing it away.

The ground loomed.

I have glamour on me, traces from many, many transformations…

She dug fingers into her arms, pulling, bidding flesh to twist, fingers moving to shape the traces of glamour.

Skin tore, and centipedes flowed out, nipping, biting, widening gaps.  Blood welled, as did revulsion.  Her stomach churned, and then centipedes flowed out of her mouth, with enough force that her trajectory through the air was shifted, head forced around, down, feet high above her.

She looked up, in the direction of down, vertigo seizing her, and saw a single point on the ground rush up to fill her vision.

Verona collided with the rocky earth in slow motion that only seemed to exaggerate the hurt.  There was enough force that her teeth bit through centipedes and then gnashed through one another, tooth meeting tooth and driving into and through one another, eyes closing and then the bone of eye sockets closing after them.  Shoulder and arm were pressed in, followed by bone and rib closing gaps and crushing in close.  The air rushed out of her, and the queasy feeling compressed into a feeling that exploded all the feeling of sick out of the gaps between the broken and torn parts of her.

Her feet met the ground with a lateness that would have been comical if she hadn’t just been pulverized by the fall.

Avery landed on her feet a few feet away.  Lucy, shuddering, pulled her way free of groping darkness, shaking off spiders.

“Verona?” Avery asked.

Verona’s face made a wet, sucking sound as she pulled meat and shattered bone away from the rock.  “Not sure if the Aurum is messing with me even in dreams, or if I’ve internalized stuff.”

Her voice was eerily clear considering her face and part of her head and upper body were broken bone mixed in with hamburger.  It was very disconcerting, but she was entirely willing to play ball with that, accept this was a dream, and wear it.

“Hopefully internalization,” Lucy said.

Verona made a wounded sound, pressing hands to her heart.

“I mean, first of all, we can hope the Aurum isn’t that hostile right now…”

“True,” Verona said, picking a bit of broken bone out of her face.  She looked around, and saw that they were on a mountainside, the top of the mountain up in the clouds.

“Second of all, maybe some internalization of stuff wouldn’t be a bad thing?”

Verona repeated the wounded sound, hands to her heart.

“Can you fix your face?” Avery asked Verona.  “That’s really ick.”

“Close your eyes-” Lucy said.

“Or shattered eye sockets,” Verona said, pointing both fingers at Lucy.

“-and dwell on your unconscious impression of who you are, your face?”

“Or,” Verona told Lucy, “I can experiment and broaden my concept of Self.  If we can mold ourselves in our dreams, why not explore different identities?”

“I like my identity,” Avery said.  “Maybe I could try different styles, though.”

“I like my identity too,” Lucy said.

“I like your identity, Verona, by the way,” Avery said.  “Regular old Verona is pretty cool.”

“I don’t like that word, regular,” Verona said.  “Regular clothes are nice to wear and they’re cozy but sometimes you want to dress up and sometimes you want to dress down.”

“If you trying on different looks is a temporary thing, I’m pretty okay with that,” Lucy said.

“Oh, do I have your permission?” Verona asked.

“Yeah, not that you need it.”

“Good, and good.”

Lightning cracked but kept to the heavy clouds, illuminating the surroundings and shining entirely different lights amid the clouds, making some transparent while highlighting other shadows.  A silhouette stood at the peak, amid the clouds.

“Did Alpy specify who she was arranging the meet with?” Avery asked.

“Nah, she just complained about work.  I think,” Verona replied, looking up toward the top of the mountain.  There was someone up there.  They’d given Alpeana a short list of people they wanted to talk to, and an order, but some of those people were bound and others complicated to arrange meets with.

“Imagine her as a familiar,” Lucy said.

“I’m definitely like, not as keen as I was.  Imagine me ditching my dad to hitch myself to a familiar who’d spend all her time complaining about work.”

“Imagine,” Avery said.

“Is Snow coming?”

“She’s having some quality time with Cherry.”

More lightning crackled, and it never touched ground, keeping instead to the sky.  A smell of burned air and burning flooded the area, and the clouds intensified.

“Ah,” Verona said.  “That’s who.”

The smoke and clouds swirled, the bright points of lightning intensifying, and the sky seemed to lower as the surroundings dropped away, leaving only floor and lowering ceiling as everything crushed in together.

Still monochrome, for the most part.  The smell of smoke flooded a large room, and within that room, adults in nice clothes were bustling this way and that, shoulder to shoulder in many places.  Ladies in dresses fit for events, men in suits, some with ties undone or loosened.  People carried drinks, but most importantly, everyone carried a cigarette.  Smoke streamed up from each cigarette, thick as soup, and fed into a cloud of smoke that hid the faces and shoulders of all of the adults.

Only the burning cigarette-ends and dots of burning ash in the omnipresent ashtrays provided any color.

Stools lined the side of a bar counter, some occupied, each stool high enough to keep heads at the appropriate level, while the rest of the bar or evening club or whatever this was had people standing and milling around.  There were large windows, and it was foggy outside, to the point the windows were barely functional, except to suggest there were more people outdoors.

The hard soles of dress shoes and heels of high heels clicked on the floor, glasses were placed on hard counter, and others were slid into place, but above all else the soundscape was whispering.  Intimate, each conversation private, the laughs at little comments stifled, choked.  Voices, even female voices, were husky, deeper-throated than the usual, reminiscent of Louise’s voice, their sole witness to the Carmine thing.

Lucy held a finger to the underside of her nose.  Verona rolled her eyes.

“Hi.”  Avery approached the bar, and the man behind the counter who was providing a bright orange lighter flame for a lady who was leaning into and over the counter.  He wore a vest-like top over a dress shirt, tie monochrome silver, and it was a good look in Verona’s book.  Avery looked like she was unsure if she was heard, and shifted position, asking, “Can we talk to Cig?”

The man behind the counter tapped a metal case against the edge of the counter, until a cigarette stuck out, and offered it to Avery, lighter ready.

“Oh, no thanks,” she told him.

He turned the case around, tapped the cigarette against the counter, and pushed it back into the metal case, sliding the case into a pants pocket and the lighter into a vest pocket, before striding down the counter, to where a man held up a finger for his attention.  He began serving a drink.

“That didn’t seem to work,” Lucy said.

“I hate being ignored,” Avery said.  She looked at Verona, and made a face.  “Still going with that?”

Verona touched her messed up face. “Maybe.”

Avery made a face again, then suggested, “Explore?  Maybe we’re meant to find him.”

“Okay,” Lucy replied.  “Don’t go too far.”

They split up.  Verona wove her way around the huddles and clusters, past two men who danced close enough to be cheek to cheek, not really doing more than swaying togeher, each with left hand around the waist of the other, right hands holding old fashioned glasses and cigarettes at the same time.

Is this Cig’s mindscape?

Were there rules to a mindscape?  Montague had been an extreme case but there’d been lessons to learn there, for how to navigate his brain.  They’d had to endure intensity and as Verona had learned, maybe not eat the gross decaying-tooth cake or drink the battery acid tea.

Would an alcazar be like this?  Maybe firmer?  Here, at least, when she walked by a group and then turned around, the figures she’d recognized were gone.  The slow-dancing men had been replaced by a group of women who were laughing a lot.  If they opened up Cig and explored him as if he were a place, would it resemble this?

Verona tried touching someone lightly, fingers grazing a suit jacket, and the man didn’t respond.  She poked a butt cheek with a finger, just to test the waters a bit more, and the man ignored her.

She went by the bar, stepping up onto the bar of the stool where feet could rest, and snagged a glass of something… semi-dark and grey.  Monochrome, still.  Taking a sip, she winced at both the fact that her face was hamburger and some liquid dribbled down it, and the sharpness of the drink that hit her right in the throat and sinuses.  It tasted smokey, but also definitely alcoholic, and it made her suppress a cough.

She touched a woman’s dress, admiring it, and let herself shuck off the pulverized body.  It was only aesthetic.  She looked at other dresses and details, trying to find a time period or clue there, and at the same time appreciated the look of everything.

She moved in a straight line through the place, and she found herself reuniting with Lucy.  Avery found them a moment later.  This place didn’t have bounds, in the usual sense.  It was more a scene than a location that could be navigated.  Would Montague’s have been the same if they’d gotten up and tried to walk away?

“You changed,” Lucy said.  “Thank you.”

Verona posed, lifting up one leg.  She wore a slinkier black dress now, with a pearl choker and pearl earrings, and a little headband to help manage her hair, with an ostentatious metallic flower fixed to the band.

“Any signs?” Avery asked.

Verona shook her head, sipping the drink again.  “Maybe we did it wrong.”

“Did what wrong?” Avery asked.

Verona looked over.  “Bartender?”

The man at the counter finished lighting another cigarette for someone who promptly walked away to rejoin his group, and then walked down to where he was still behind the counter, but was as close to them as he’d get.  Hands rested casually on the counter.

“Could you tell us how to communicate with Cig?” she asked.

He didn’t move.

“Does it involve us smoking?  To open the doors or something?” Verona asked.

He retrieved the metal case and tapped it on the counter.  He offered her a cigarette.

“Ronnie,” Lucy said.

“It’s a dream!  Maybe we need to play along,” Verona said, walking over to take it.  She leaned over the counter as best as she could, while the man held out the lighter, flicking it on at the last second.  She drew back on the cigarette, and fought not to even begin coughing, even as her eyes watered.

“Any clues?” she asked the barkeep, settling onto the stool, arms on the counter, glass in front of her.  “Whisperings?  Rumors?  How do these things work?”

He was silent.  Beside Verona, Avery and Lucy settled onto nearby stools.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to talk?” Avery suggested.  “I could understand if he was upset.”

“Tricky,” Lucy murmured.  “But we’re not going to get anywhere and I don’t think we’ll be able to release him- I don’t think we’ll be able to release you, Cig, if you can hear this, unless we can confirm some basic stuff and get some info.”

“Want?” Verona asked Avery, indicating the cup.  “I think it’s whiskey.”

“Are you a whiskey girl, Verona?” Avery asked.  She hesitated, then took the cup, sipping.  She made a face.  “I might not be a whiskey girl.”

“They say these things are acquired tastes,” Verona replied, taking the cup back, holding the cigarette in her other hand.  “I like the idea of acquired tastes.”

“If nothing else, this is a neat experience,” Lucy said, looking around.  “Eerie, and more smoke than I normally like, but neat.”

“Yeah,” Verona said.

“Maybe look out for the one cigarette in all of this that doesn’t have someone smoking it?” Avery asked.  “That’s a tell for Cig, isn’t it?”

They paused, taking their time to search, scanning the surroundings, twisting around on their stools.  Verona looked, studying ashtrays, studying the floor, where the periodic bit of dropped ash created regular spots of burning orange or yellow.  Some were stepped on.  The floor remained pristine and glossy, despite that.

Lucy held up a finger to her mouth.

They remained quiet.

“The investigators got me, didn’t even give me a chance…”

A whisper between two businessman-types who were walking by, one with his arm around a curvy woman.

Lucy gave the two of them a knowing look.

Yeah.  Verona turned around, taking this in.

“…what can I get you?” the barkeep asked a woman, leaning in close to maintain that volume of intimate whisper.

“Anything strong enough to make me forget today.  I’m in the doghouse,” the woman replied, fiercely gripping her cigarette.  “I’m worried it’s all over.”

“I’ll make it strong,” he told her.

“It might not all be over.” Verona matched the volume of the room.  “Depends what you tell us.”

“So I asked her, what do you want?  What do you want, woman?” a guy who’d had too many drinks hissed rather than whispered, to convey intensity without raising the volume.  Tie loosened, suit jacket off, he and his friends looked like they’d had more drinks than was typical for the people here.  The friends chortled, the sounds suppressed, held back, even though it led to one coughing.

“Do you know what Maricica is up to?” Verona asked nobody in particular.

“No,” a woman said, refusing an offer for a light.  She struck a match of her own, and it hissed before she put it to her cigarette.

“Do you know-” Lucy started, pausing as the man at the counter offered a newly arrived pair of women a drink, “-what they’re all up to in general?”

“Yes, please,” one of the two women whispered.  “Champagne, please.  It’s a bit of an event.”

She turned, giving the other woman a peck on the lips, fingers interlaced.

“Champagne?” the man at the counter asked, turning to pull a bottle off the shelf.  At the same time, Avery put her elbow on the counter, hand on her cheek, back to Lucy and Verona, looking.  He asked, “What’s the occasion?”

“That, sir, is a secret,” the woman whispered, pressing a finger to lips, coquettish, even though the smoke hid her face.  It was only by the virtue of not being fully grown that the three of them weren’t in the same boat.

“A secret?” Avery asked, glancing over her shoulder at Lucy and Verona, as if double-checking.

“I could be convinced to tell,” the woman whispered, wriggle-shrugging her shoulders.  “Maybe.”

“I’ll be honest,” Lucy said.  “I can’t speak for my friends, but I’d love to have a good reason to let you go.”

“I would too,” Verona murmured.

“It’s not necessarily all over,” Avery said.  “Like you said earlier.”

“Can I get more?” a man murmured to the barkeep, placing a bottle down on the counter with a hand that held a cigarette between two fingers.  The barkeep put down a full bottle, removing the cap and sweeping the empty bottle from the counter in the same move.  The smoke trails swirled and broke apart in the swift movements.

“More what?  Concessions?  Are you wanting to barter?” Lucy asked.

The girl at Avery’s left butted in, whispering in an excited way, “Hey, you three, could you help us settle a deal we-“

Her partner tugged on her elbow, interrupting her and hauling her back into their private, indistinct conversation.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lucy said.

“If you can provide meaningfully useful information for the investigation, and swear against further involvement, we can let you go, I think,” Verona said, to nobody in particular.  “I don’t think you’re dangerous or violent.  But we might ask the council to revoke your membership in Kennet, depending.  If you can provide that stuff and if you’re sorry and-or if there are any things like you didn’t know or you were forced to help or whatever, then maybe there’s a chance you can stay in Kennet.  Just… again, not as a helper for the conspiracy.”

“Or as a double agent,” Avery said.  “Even though Maricica might be too clever for that.”

“I’m listening,” the barkeep murmured to an older man with nicotine-stained fingers, who sat further down the counter.  He leaned in closer, paying avid attention as the man launched into what might’ve been a joke, but was too soft to properly hear.

Smoke and whispers whisked through the space, making Verona’s hairs stand on end, helped by the buzz of the very small quantity of alcohol she’d consumed.

Does that mean we’re good to move forward?

“What’s the agenda?  Do you know?” Lucy asked.

“We’ll paint the town red,” a man spoke in an almost guttural voice, made hoarse and rough by years of smoking.  He held his brimmed hat high over head as if to signal the crowd as he left by way of the front doors, stepping out into the opaque fog beyond.

“Paint it red?” Verona asked.  “And?”

“Turn things around on them,” the businessman from the near-beginning of this ‘conversation’ murmured, as he walked by, pausing near the stools the three of them sat on as people were gathering for drinks.  The barkeep looked like he wanted to go serve, but the old man that told the joke had a grip on his arm.  The businessman’s tone took on an intensity, his volume dropping as he continued to whisper, “If they want to turn those poor saps out onto the streets, that’s fine, but they should also sort out the mess.”

“Who’s them?” Avery asked.

“Losers and assholes,” the businessman whispered to his friend, aggressive.  “If those assholes want to play their parts and let things come to this, let them deal with it.  While we’re at it, we should tighten regulations until they can’t fucking breathe without the red tape.  Fucking strangle them with it.”

“They’ll change the policies and regulations,” the businessman’s friend whispered back.

“Sure.  But how many do you think we can strangle before they get around to that?  They’ll go after each other in the process of deciding what the change should be and who should be the one to execute it.”

“Is this who you are, Cig?” Avery asked, voice soft and concerned.  “Strangling?  Executing?  I thought you were gentler in… if not personality, exactly, then maybe… nature?”

“I don’t fit in with that crowd, I don’t fit in with you,” a woman said, from the stool beside Verona, to her conversation partner.  Her back was to Verona, her hand moving in an emotive way, scattering ash from the end of her cigarette.  The barkeep, laughing politely at the tail end of the old man’s joke, took the opportunity to step away, wiping the counter clean in passing as he went to serve drinks to the growing lineup of people.

“Hmm,” her conversation partner made a sound, considering.

“Then why?” Avery asked, looking at the woman.  “Why do it?”

“We’re all making concessions,” the man replied to the woman.  “We get lonely, and loneliness leads us to cling to even those people we don’t fit in with.  We compromise on our ideals, and a person we wouldn’t give the time of day to in another circumstance starts to feel like a kindred spirit.”

“Spirit?” Verona asked.  “Edith?”

“Exactly right,” a man said, sounding pleased as the barkeep served his drink.

“Do you have ideals, Cig?” Avery asked.  “Do you feel loneliness?”

“Not quite right,” the woman to Verona’s right whispered to the guy, touching his nose.  “But I understand the sentiment.”

Verona was starting to feel like she was getting whiplash, the various people all around them forcing her to turn around and hear.  Or maybe she was meant to settle down, ease up, and let it wash over and around her.

“Can we trust you?” Lucy asked.

“I want to stay a bit longer.  Say yes.  Yes yes yes?”  suggested the woman, the more excitable member of the lesbian couple that had sat to the left of Avery.

“Is that a yes?” Lucy pressed.

“Yes,” the other woman in the couple whispered, touching her forehead to her partner’s, resting it there.  “I suppose.”

“Then can you tell us more?” Lucy asked.  “About Maricica?”

“I don’t know her very well,” a man said, passing by behind them.  Lucy and Avery turned and from the look of it they couldn’t see him.  Verona was settling in, not worrying about it so much.

“Edith?”

“Can we light this candle?” the upbeat young lady whispered to the barkeep.

“Is that a yes?” Lucy asked.

“Yes,” the barkeep replied, to both of them.

“It’s a horror story,” the young lady told her partner, picking up the candle and holding it so it would illuminate her face.  Her whispers were wistful.  “In a way, it was like coming home, she was warm, she had this natural way of drawing you in, at least for me.”

“You’ll make me jealous,” her partner said.

“It wasn’t like that.  It wasn’t love.  I went along with what she wanted because nothing and no one was telling me not to.”

“Does that mean that if we’re there for you, keeping an eye out, that there’d be no need to worry you’d get into more trouble with sketchy types in or around Kennet?” Lucy asked.

“I wish I knew,” was the answer from somewhere in the crowd, one voice clear in a mess of indistinct, goosebump-raising whispers and exhalations of smoke.

Verona looked down at her own cigarette, and drew on it experimentally.  She managed to not cough but did have to clear her throat.  She didn’t like it for the taste or the warmth, though she sort of liked it for the smell, but what she liked most was having something to do with her hands and mouth, that felt like it fit in with everything going on around them.

“Would you swear oaths?” Lucy asked.

“If I take the deal, will that keep me out of jail?” a man asked a woman who might have been his lawyer, the two of them leaning against a part of the bar where the stools weren’t as numerous.  “Scott free?”

“Possibly,” Lucy said.  “We’d have to talk to Toadswallow and the others, get the okay from them.  There’d be restrictions, as part of the oaths.  We’d need free and unfiltered information.  As much detail as you can provide.”

“Yes.”

“Then we can look into that,” Lucy said.  “We don’t have to do this all tonight, if you’re patient.  We can talk to the others or call Alpeana and have her check with them that it’s okay to make deals.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” a man at the counter whispered, refusing a drink, lighting up another cigarette.  It looked like the counter had filled up a lot after they’d sat down.  A nice subtle touch.

“Can we run questions by you, or do you want to confirm the deal first?  We want to be fair,” Avery said.  It looked like Avery was struggling more than Lucy was when it came to addressing a nonspecific entity that filled up this space, looking this way and that and not getting any eye contact.  Lucy, meanwhile, was struggling a bit more than Verona.  Verona, slumped over the counter, just smiled, sipped the whiskey, then let Avery have it when Avery reached over, moving her arm out of the way.

“I’m all ears,” the man who’d waxed poetic a bit earlier said.  It looked like the old man wanted to tell someone another joke.

“Then, just to recap, and make sure of some stuff,” Lucy said.  “Edith is involved and you worked with her.  Is it that you can’t say if Maricica is involved?”

“She’s in,” the businessman whispered.  “Damn her.”

“So you know she’s in, but you don’t know what she’s up to?”

“Yeah.”

“Is Charles?” Avery asked.

“That loser,” the businessman hissed.

“Cig used that earlier.  Losers and assholes,” Verona pointed out.  “Turning things around.”

“Can we get confirmation on Charles?”

“Now, our guy, we’re not one hundred percent sure…” the joke teller said.  “But if anyone around here is going to get caught in a compromising position with a pretty dog like that…”

“Is that a yes?” Lucy asked, exasperated.  Lucy was having the most difficulty with the exact nature of this weird way of speaking, more than the ambient nature of it.

“Yeah!”

“But you don’t know how?” Verona asked.

“No, no no no no…”

“Or why?” Verona asked.

“Scott free, then” the man with the lawyer said.

The babble felt like it was pressing in on them.  That combined with the very low ceiling effect from the smoke that was just reaching the tops of their heads as they sat on the stools, the lack of color, and the bustle of people in the full… whatever it was.  Establishment.

“He gets unforsworn, presumably,” Lucy said.  “And Edith?”

“Don’t know.”

“Maricica?”

“No ideas here.”

“Do you know what their greater plans were for you?” Verona asked the empty air.  “Because we’ve had hints that that’s a thing.  Secondary plans, uses?”

“Good to bring that up,” Lucy said.

“Anyone else?” Avery asked.  “I’m afraid to-”

“Little bastards!” the angry businessman hissed.

“Goblins,” Lucy whispered.  “Which?”

“Yeah, the contractors, yeah, them!  Get in touch-“

Verona shifted position, wanting to sit back, but the stool’s back only reached the small of her back and she would have fallen violently.  Which would have probably kicked her out of the nightmare.

“Contractors.  The ones Bluntmunch brought in?” Avery asked.  “That would’ve been Ramjam, Creamfilled, Kittycough, Biscuit, and Fishmittens.  Maybe Bluntmunch too?”

“No, I fucking wish I knew the full story, man… yeah.  I know they pulled something.  They got on the wrong side of this.  Each of them, to some degree.”

“Frig,” Avery whispered.

“When they sent the witch hunter after the ghouls, the goblins fought in that, and a good few of them died.  Creamfilled and Fishmittens,” Verona noted.

“Yeah,” Avery said.  “They were pretty depressed about it, however they might’ve acted.”

“We’ll have to sound them out about things,” Lucy said.  “Talk to them discreetly, somehow, get a sense of what happened?  That might be a thing we can focus on.  If they were allies, then Maricica targeted them.  Why?  Were those specific goblin deaths for a reason?  Were they not onboard anymore?”

Avery mused, “Maybe they’re not happy after Maricica let them die.  I can talk to them if you want.  Go with Snowdrop?”

“Okay,” Lucy said.  “Good, that works.”

“Anyone else?” Verona asked.  “Or anything else?”

“Remember the big guy?” the excitable young lady asked her partner.  “Close to retirement, long hair?”

“I remember.”

“Guilherme?” Lucy asked, twisting around.  “He’s not-”

“He was the one who made the call, you know.”

“To the cops?”

“Not the cops exactly, but-“

“No,” Lucy said.  “Come on, no.”

“You’re waking up,” Avery said, grabbing Lucy’s arm.  “Chill, relax, we’re-”

The stool broke under Lucy, and Lucy dropped to the floor.

Verona grabbed for her, throwing herself off the stool to catch Lucy, grabbing the arm of a bystander- grabbing smoke instead.

The dream of smoke, ambiance, drinks, men with nice bodies and women with enviable clothes dissipated in kind.  It became a nightmare of falling again.  A swift descent where Lucy came free of her grip, pulling just out of arm’s reach.  Avery dropped a short distance above them, following after.

Verona hit the cot with enough force that she bounced nearly a foot straight up in the air, springs screaming, pillow dropping to the floor.  The back of her head banged against the denser end of the spring near the frame, and hair pulled free as it was caught in the gaps.  “Frig!”

“Frig,” Lucy whispered.

“Remember, they had to account for the fact Cig might get caught, we haven’t confirmed anything, with Cig’s weird way of speaking, it’s hard to get context or nuance.”

“But Cig has reason to believe Guilherme called the Witch Hunter?” Lucy asked.

“Maybe.  We can do another follow-up conversation with Cig, follow up on details, like the goblins, and Charles-”

“It’s my turn to do the shrines, right?” Lucy asked, reaching for her phone.

“Luce, hey, talk?  It’s- five freaking thirty.”

“I’m going out.  I’ll stop in, check on Long, stretch my legs before Mom gets up.  I’ll set up the connection block while I’m at it.”

“Don’t go see Guilherme.  This could be a Maricica trap.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?  I- I didn’t expect that to be so easy.”

“I won’t go out of my way to see him.  I’m not going in that direction anyway.  I just need to think.”

“Do you want me to come with?”

“Nah.  Knowing you, you’d be super grumpy at this hour.”

“I would, but I can also be a friend.  Ask Ave.  I was with her yesterday morning.”

“It’s okay,” Lucy said.  “Sleep in.  Do your thing.  I won’t be too long.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m not, but hey.  I will text you or Avery if I need anything.  You just make sure my connection blocker doesn’t expire, or I’ll be mega super grounded.”

Verona nodded.  She got her phone and then checked it was set to vibrate, and then slipped it into her bra.

“I don’t know how you can wear that to sleep.”

Verona shrugged, settling back in.

Lucy got dressed, pulled on her shoes, and then went to the posters on the wall, sighed, and then used a fresh patch of wall to draw out the diagram.

Then she left, leaving Verona to rest up for whatever the future held.

More than ever, it felt like nighttime was when they’d been awake and the day was when they dreamed.  The hours passed inconsistently.  Verona lounged.  She’d gotten up and showered and then retreated back to her room, where Lucy was, and browsed the Atheneum Arrangement for free texts.  She’d read a good chunk on Faerie-adjacent creatures and then check the time, expecting to have spent a few hours, and it would have been only thirty minutes.  Yet she was left with the frustrating sensation that she was both covering a lot of ground in terms of pages and not taking a lot out of it.

A lot of that had to do with the texts themselves.  The sorts of things put out there for free were teasers, tasters, and old editions that were dry and didn’t seem like the sorts of works to fly off the shelves.

She spent a few hours on that, taking periodic notes, talked over the situation with Lucy and communicated with Avery, who had the decent fortune to not be grounded, even after Jasmine had called her dad, and then she ventured downstairs.  She washed the dishes from breakfast, then at Jasmine’s request, swept, hosed off, and re-swept the back porch of pollen and the occasional leaves, then picked a random book of Jasmine’s to read.  She finished the mystery novel in two and a half hours, and then it was lunchtime.

They ate lunch together, made small talk, and then Verona and Lucy cleaned the dishes together.  All like a dream, substance out of reach.  Even her Sight wasn’t working like it should.  She could turn it on, but things were blurry, the definition of the gossamer wrappings and the meaty things within no longer present as more than blurry white outlines and vague, still shadows within.

Avery was off running basic errands, and was supposed to be talking to Matthew and Toadswallow about Cig being aid to the conspirators without necessarily being a co-conspirator.  They’d have to see what that meant.

Either way, it wasn’t like Cig had been especially malevolent about things.  He’d just been… Cig about things, maybe.  Matthew and Toadswallow would be able to follow up with direct questions and their usual methods of communicating with Cig.  Hopefully.

That covered Avery and kept Avery busy.  Lucy, on the other hand… Lucy was taking the Guilherme thing surprisingly hard.  Her mentor.  When they were alone together, Lucy would raise the subject, and Verona would remind her that Maricica might have misled, or that there could be context, and then Lucy would drop it, only to bring it up later, like she’d forgotten the reassurances.

Or they’d be apart, each of them doing separate chores, and Verona would see Lucy looking upset, more frowny than usual, or staring off into the distance.

Verona didn’t know what to say or do.

Bluntmunch, the goblins from Creamfilled’s group, Charles, Maricica, and Edith?

Was it that simple?  To do what?  Overturn order?  Paint the town red?  Cig hadn’t elaborated and they weren’t in a position to ask.  They still had to talk to Charles, and that would be a thing.

They still had to prepare, somehow.  Jasmine wasn’t following up on what Lucy had mentioned, that maybe they could work off the punishment and buy themselves a few days of freedom, if not a week of freedom.  Even a week would be tight.  If this not entirely deserved punishment was the cost of playing nice and protecting Jasmine, she could put up with it.  But as much as Verona loved Lucy’s mom, she wasn’t willing to sacrifice the well being of Kennet to make her feel better.

She started on another novel, and then put it down about a hundred pages in, getting out her computer and sending an email to Nicolette.

Nicolette responded to the email with a request for a video call.  Verona accepted.

“Heya,” Nicolette said.  “What’s going on?”

“I’m gainsaid.  Power’s out, no practicing.”

“Ah, that’s rough.  Definitely happens.  Alexander gainsaid me once every two weeks, give or take.  What can I do?”

“I was going to ask the same question.  What can I do?  I’m bored, I’m grounded, I’m gainsaid.  You have anything for me to do?  We owe you for backing us up, I figure in the interest of being fair…”

“I don’t have anything interesting for you to do.”

“If I’m going to be bored, maybe I can be bored while being helpful to you.”

“Hmmm.  You okay with grunt work?”

“I don’t know what else I’m good for.  I’m housebound, by the way.  Grounded, like I said.”

“I’d have to ask permission to bring in an assistant, Seth is pretty much useless, but I’ve got something… give me a few minutes.”

Nicolette leaned off screen, feed set to mute.  She picked up her phone and called someone.

“I’ve got nowhere to go,” Verona said.

Nicolette deafened herself as well, effectively muting Verona.  Verona sighed.

“Tell Nicolette I said hi,” Lucy told Verona.

“Okay.”

Nicolette came back on.  “Hey, they say it’s okay.”

“Lucy says hi.”

“Hi.  So, I’m going to send you these files.  There’s like, thirty different documents around fifteen pages each, they’re portodoc files so they take up to a minute to load on the default software, they were scanned in with this device, anyway, the pages aren’t in order.  Or numbered.”

“Am I making fifteen little documents or…”

“If you could order them as best as you can and then stitch them together into one document that isn’t a portodoc file, I think it’ll be four hundred and forty pages, that’d be great.  Some are degraded, covered in artifacts and speckles that keeps you from selecting text, so you’d have to copy it down by hand, copy formatting-”

“Send ’em,” Verona said.  “I’m sparing you some grief, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good enough,” Verona said.  “Is it an interesting text?”

“Not at all.”

Verona sighed.

“Verona!” Jasmine called upstairs.  “Can I have a word?”

“I’ll send them to your email,” Nicolette told her.  “Even if you don’t finish any progress you can make would be great.  Just keep track of which doc the pages are from.  There are footer settings-”

“Put the instructions in the email.  I don’t remember stuff like that so hot,” Verona told Nicolette.  “I’m being called.  I’ll try to get to it soon.”

“Verona!?” the call came from downstairs.

“Here!” Verona called downstairs.

She made her way down the stairs two at a time, partially out of restless energy and the desire to move.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw her dad in the hallway, with the CAS guy.

“Hi, Verona,” he said.  “How are you?”

Lucy came down the stairs behind Verona, but Verona didn’t turn away, shrugging instead.  “Grounded.  I’m sure you know.”

“I did tell him,” Jasmine said.

Verona pressed her lips together.

“It would have been nice to hear from you in some capacity while you were gone,” her dad said.

“It would’ve been nice if you hadn’t broken my stuff throwing a tantrum like a child,” she told him.

“Hold on, interjecting,” the CAS worker said.  “Sorry.  Hi Verona, we talked online?”

“Yeah,” Verona replied, quiet.

“I asked if I could take on this role, joining you and your dad as you go back to your place.”

“For a visit?  Talk?  Preliminary stuff?” Verona asked.

“Verona.”  Jasmine spoke with such a sympathetic tone, telling a whole story.

Verona shook her head.

“To stay,” her dad said.  “I talked it over with your mom.  This thing with Jasmine was a comfortable middle ground, but it seems you got too comfortable.  We think it’s best if you return home.”

“Your mom and dad do,” Jasmine said, quiet.

Verona tensed.

“I’ll accompany you, we’ll have a sit-down meeting in your dad’s living room,” the CAS worker said.  “About expectations, responsibilities of your dad’s, responsibilities of yours.  I’ll make sure everything is square.”

“You’ll still be grounded,” her dad declared, looking a little smug, like he’d scored a win.  “No TV, no computer, no phone.  I’m taking some time off work.  We’ll catch up on things, find a new way forward.”

“Nah,” Verona said.

“Verona,” Jasmine said.  “I know this isn’t the outcome you wanted, it isn’t the outcome I wanted, but-”

“But?” Lucy’s voice came down the stairs.  Verona glanced back up at her friend.

“But… did you threaten Jasmine?” Verona asked her dad, heated now.  “Did you threaten to get her in trouble?”

“We can get some good headway done on the basement,” her dad told her, still smiling.

Verona turned to run back upstairs, and kicked a stair instead of getting her foot on top of it, falling across it.  Vertigo gripped her, her stomach roiling, brain rebelling-

Nightmare.

“Fuck you, Alpeana!” Verona raised her voice.  “I need you not to freaking do this!”

The nightmare transitioned, carrying her into someone else’s dreamscape.

Chloe was her original human self, wearing the subtle signs that she’d been backpacking through wilderness for a bit.  Her top was a pink turtleneck, her jacket a green so dark it was almost black, and she had a bag slung across her shoulders.

The landscape was all black stone covered in moss, rising and falling like waves.  The sun was low in the sky, more white than yellow or orange, the sky itself pale and speckled with beads of black.

It looked nice, but Verona couldn’t quite enjoy it.  The nightmare that had taken her from bedtime sleep to this scene was still fresh in her mind, even a bit into everyone meeting up and general conversation.

“I think, if they were trying to leverage us, it would’ve been by making Chlo go berserk,” Nibble said.

“No other ideas, then?”

Nibble shook his head.

“Chloe?” Avery asked.

“No idea,” Chloe said.  “I wanted to say sorry, Lucy, about before.”

“I didn’t get the impression you were in control,” Lucy said.  Her expression darkened, even though the words were kind, and as Verona looked between them, it seemed like Chloe recognized that, her own expression changing, shoulders shrinking.

“You okay?” Verona asked Lucy.

“Thinking about other stuff.  The Witch Hunter, where he came from,” Lucy said.

“Maricica?” Nibble asked.  “She steered him our way, apparently.”

“Apparently,” Lucy said, but she didn’t say anything more.  She didn’t mention Guilherme.  “Heavy stuff.”

Chloe relaxed a bit, as if she’d realized that Lucy wasn’t mad at her, exactly.

“You said you wanted something,” Avery told Nibble.  “It was a few days ago, the timing wasn’t right…”

Nibble looked more like himself in a way that Verona couldn’t put her finger on.  Sure, there was the lack of claws, and the way his lips didn’t stick out a slight bit more because of the fangs behind them.  His eyes weren’t as deep set, and even the clothes he wore looked a bit softer.

“I was going to ask… what if you’re on the wrong side?”

“You think?” Avery asked.

“I don’t think.  I don’t know,” Nibble told them.  “I didn’t.  I thought what if… what if you talked to Edith or someone and they did give you the full story, and that story included this really good rationale?”

“They put a whole lot of people in the way of the Hungry Choir,” Lucy said.

“I know.  I get that now, I’ve had a bit more time to get my head around things and learn the details.  Rook explained some.  But…”

“But?” Lucy asked.

“No, I… I worry.  About feeding Chloe.  About feeding myself.  Things are bad right now for you, I get that, but for us they’re as good as they’ve been for a while.  We have a full freezer.  Chloe’s, minor injuries and issues aside, on her way to getting better.  Then we hear that if you guys arrest the culprits, that supply will dry up, the rest of it gets harder, you’ll need us less?”

“Don’t worry about feeding me, doofus,” Chloe said, jamming her hands into her pockets.  “Just… put me down if I get that bad again.  No hard feelings on my end.”

“Hard feelings on mine, Chlo!” Nibble turned on her.  “Hello?  I care!  I don’t want to put you down!  I want to spend the next few hundred years being undead with you, looking after you and having you watch stupid films with me, and then we can get sick of each other and part ways, but I’d like to think we’d walk away from it thinking ‘hey, that was mostly really good, wasn’t it?'”

Chloe approached him and hugged him from behind.  He hugged her arms awkwardly where they met at his chest.

“Or spend eternity together?” Avery asked.

“I’m more realistic than that with my unrealistic dreams,” Nibble said.  “I watch a lot of romance and stuff but c’mon.”

“Oh!  We could do that on again off again thing,” Chloe said.  “Where we miss each other when we’re apart but we get more and more sick of each other every time we get back together, spending less and less time together until we end up hating each other’s guts.  Punctuate the centuries that way.”

“That’d be nice, in a way.  I like the idea that you’d be that self sufficient,” Nibble said.  “And that you’d be around that long.”

“I bet I could kick your ass in a fight if we end up rivals,” Chloe said.

“Probably.  You’re meaner when you’re mad.  But I could annoy you with movie quotes before you tear my face off.”

“Throw in a quote from Sixteen Candles when you do it, okay?  Right at the end, so I know you care and remembered and stuff?”

“I’ll try and keep one in mind.”

“And marry me at some point.  When I’m not all growly.  I want to get rid of the claws and fangs and get so I can pass in the middle of a city and then you and I can have a big wedding.  But I want to be mostly human when we do it.”

“Goals,” Nibble said.  “Big how?  We barely remember our families, we definitely don’t keep in touch.”

“We’ll have to make lots of friends and build something.”

“It sounds to me like you’re doing a bit,” Verona said.

“We’ve gone in circles about this a lot, with minor variations,” Nibble explained, for the benefit of Verona, Lucy, and Avery.  “It’s like, uh, self-stimming?  Or a cooperative mantra we go over, to get more zen and put the ghoul away?”

“Not that we need to right now.  What a nice nightmare this is,” Chloe said, looking around.  “Melancholic.  This is where I got ghouled, I think.”

“Sorry,” Avery said.

“It’s okay.  That’s… not life, but unlife?  Undeath?  It’s the way things go sometimes,” Chloe said.

“Point is, if the people who killed the Carmine Beast want Kennet to stay bloody or something, like Rook says?  I could see a future where like, yeah, that’s super bad from the perspective of like, Choir and everything, and those are the same guys who used us,” Nibble said.  “But also Chloe stays fed and I can live with that.”

Chloe kissed the side of Nibble’s neck and rested her chin on his shoulder.

“I’d like to think we’d back you up, Nibble,” Verona said.  “Somehow.”

“So do I, but…” he hesitated.  “This is tough.”

“Are you switching sides?” Verona asked.  “Going with Edith’s group?”

“No,” Nibble said.  “At least… not unless I get some really critical information or something huge happens, I don’t think I’ll go with them.  Being entirely honest, I think we’ll be okay no matter what directions things go, as long as Kennet stays Kennet.  But if there’s some reality where you’re going after these guys and you realize what they’re doing and there’s a middle ground or something… it sure would be nice to find a way to keep Chloe fed in the long term.”

“That’s fair,” Verona told him.

“And I guess I thought I should let you know… if food sources can’t be secured, I know you said you’d think about ways to do it-”

“I have but it’s hard,” Verona admitted.

“Yeah.  For sure.  But if you can’t work it out, then maybe we’ll move on.  Or we’ll make it a regular thing where we roam to other communities to find ethical meals and then come back to chill and be safe.  Even if Kennet is safe, it’s not good for us if food isn’t in supply.”

“Thanks for being upfront,” Avery said.

“It’s the way we should go about this, isn’t it?” Nibble asked.  “In this topsy turvy world of dark magic and dark ghouls, ghosts, and goblins, it’s kind of messed up that those of us best at handling the whole ‘never tell a lie’ thing are just really freaking good at being deceptive, somehow.  It’s important to rise above that, be honest when we can.”

“Yeah, that’s really poignant,” Verona said.

“Says Ronnie, our best deceptive-when-telling-the-truther,” Avery joked.

“Except when she’s talking to my mom, annoyingly.”

“She was upset!” Verona protested.  “I hate your mom being upset!  Why do I get so much abuse?”

“Because you dish it,” Avery said, poking her in the arm.

“This is true, but still!”

Alpeana appeared in the shadows.  Verona wheeled on her, pointing a finger.  “You!”

“Aye, ye’r done?”

“You gave me that freaking nightmare about my dad before dropping me in here.  Do you have any shame at all?”

“‘Twas easiest!  Ah’m busy!  I’m workin’ thae meetings intae my schedule for ye, th’ least ye can dae is put up with a wee bit o’ trauma!”

“I think you owe me a hot guy dream,” Verona told Alpeana.

“That’s th’ province o’ some ither bloke.  We barely talk any.”

“That’s a thing?” Avery asked.

“‘E’s not in Kennet, but he’ll come by ‘ere and thar.”

“Can we put in an order, do you think you could pass something on?” Avery asked.

“Ah’ve enough tae do, lassie!  I gave ye yer gifts, dinnae ah?  Ye’re makin’ healthy use o’ it, lest few nights.  Yi’ll want me tae keep arranging these?”

“Be nice to the poor overworked nightmare,” Chloe said, walking over to wrap Alpeana in a hug.  Alpeana, a foot shorter than Chloe, face pressed against Chloe’s fluffy pink sweater, glared over the protrusion of Chloe’s chest with one dark eye, still clearly huffy.

“We’re done, by the way, I think,” Lucy told Alpeana.  “We’re done?”

“I wanted to get that off my chest, make sure things were clear, if we didn’t know what we knew now about Maricica, we might’ve sounded you out about the direction things are going.”

“Sorry it took a few days,” Avery said.

“It’s been hectic.  It’s cool,” Nibble said.

Alpeana dissolved into a morass of hair, escaping Chloe’s hug.  She stalked over, her hair and arms extending out to grab at Verona’s wrist, then Lucy’s.  Avery got the hair grabbing at her arm.  “Ah’ve got more tae do, let’s go.  I’m behind.”

“So grumpy,” Verona poked her.

“Ah am, fer good reason!”

“How’d things go with that one kid you’re trying to give the recurring nightmare to?”

“Lil’ rat bas!  Went tae a sleep clinic, ah couldnae follow ‘im thar!”

“Recurring nightmare?” Avery asked.  “Maybe he deserves a pass?”

“Rat bas was at a rope swing, lassie beside him haudin’ th’ rope, aye?”  Alpeana spun the story and moved hair, creating two silhouettes of a boy and a girl standing on the cliff’s edge, girl holding the rope.  “He gives ‘er a push, is a’ ‘go already!'”

The boy pushed the girl off.  She didn’t hold onto the rope.

“Oh no,” Avery said.

“Skinned ‘er legs from knee tae toe, cricked ‘er knee.  ‘N’ she dinnae say a word ’bout him pushin’ her.  Is eatin’ him up, the guilt.”

“Maybe the sleep clinic will lead to him explaining why he can’t sleep?” Avery suggested.

“Thas’ no good tae me, issit!?” Alpeana raised her voice.  “Wha’s th’ good o’ that, aye!?”

“He’d get better?” Avery suggested.

“Better, ohhhh, good fer him, aye!?  Wha’s th’ good fur me, lassie!?  Wha’s th’ good for the oot cauld expanse, oh?  What do ye say t’ tha’?”

“I don’t understand half of what you’re saying or why you’re upset,” Avery admitted.

“Then maybe hold yer cheek an’ let me be, aye?”

“I think we’re just agitating Alpy more,” Lucy said.  “We should go, I guess?”

“Aye.”

“Can we stay?” Chloe asked.  “Nibble and me?  Is that okay?  This is… this is a nicer moment than we’ve had in a long time.”

“That costs!” Alpeana griped, wheeling on them.  “If it’s for all’ye here then I can make tha expense, but for jus’ you two?”

Chloe pressed her hands together, pleading.

“Bah!  Ye owe me!”

“Thank you!” Chloe called out.  “You’re lovely!”

“Bah!”

They stalked their way to the cliff’s edge.  The boy’s silhouette was still there.  Alpeana shoved him off the edge, as if to vent frustration.  Then she threw the three of them over the edge too.

They descended from the nightmare toward waking.

“Sorry, about Maricica,” Avery said.

“She dinnae tell me.  Ah’m I so useless?”

“You’re strong,” Verona said, experimenting with trying to fly again and only getting some more centipedes.  “I think Maricica is just a jerk.”

“It sucks when your friend is a jerk,” Avery said.

“Verona,” Lucy said.

“Hey!”

“I meant my old friend Olivia,” Avery said.  “You deserved better, Alpy.  Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help make it easier, or if you want company.”

“Ye’d jus’ get in th’ way.”

“Maybe, but you’d have company at least,” Lucy said.

“Aye.  Thanks, lassies, but get on with ye.  Those two back there might be okay if this goes on bu’ ah’m not, aye?  Fix it!  Tha’s all I need.”

“We’ll try.”

“Aye.”

Then, as they fell, Verona could feel a hand shoving her.  Separating her and Lucy from Avery, while separating her from Lucy by a fraction.

She woke up in the cot.

“Five in the morning,” Lucy murmured, staring up at the ceiling.

“Do you think she’s waking us up earlier and earlier as a subtle way of making us want to do this less frequently?”

“We gotta, though,” Lucy said.  “We’re grounded, it’s the only mostly-reliable way to talk to the people we need to talk to.”

“Yeah,” Verona said.  “I’m doing shrines this morning?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll go now, while it’s dark.  More comfy that way, and cooler out.”

“If you say so.”

Verona got up, and started pulling on clothes for the hike.

“I’ve got Dr. Mona this morning,” Lucy said.

“Okay.  Do you need me to stay out or…?”

“You’ll be back before I’m on, I think.  Just a reminder.”

“Right on,” Verona said, hiking up some denim shorts and doing them up.  “A week and five days.”

“Yep.”

“Okay,” Verona said, mostly to herself.  Keeping everything straight in her mind.  “Can you do up my silence runes?  I’m still gainsaid.”

“Ugh.  Yeah,” Lucy said.  “Pass me the paper.”

“Can you do up this zipper?” Lucy asked.

“Ooh la la,” Verona said, feigning a bit more excitement than she was feeling.  It was cool that Lucy was excited and happy, but the whole being grounded thing was wearing on her in a big way, and Lucy was getting her escape.

Which, again, was great, but…

Which wasn’t to say it wasn’t good or cool, and she was happy for her friend, but…

And so it went.  It wasn’t helped by the fact that she’d fallen asleep at midnight and woken up at five and she felt so ground down that ten full hours might not have felt like enough.  She was tired and it had chased her across the day, and now she was pushing herself because Lucy deserved good cheer and focus.

Verona smiled as Lucy posed.  “That is legitimately a great look for you.  The gold fits with the earring too.”

The dress had thin bands of gold and thick bands of electric blue and black and left the arms and back bare.  The zipper went up at an angle and then turned to go to the back of the neck.

“I wore this to graduation from middle school.  Do you think Wallace remembers?”

“I think he might.  But I think that’s okay.”

“It’s not too much?”

“I think… knowing as little as I do about dates, that a date consisting of fast food, ice creams, and a movie warrants you being about twenty five to forty percent more than you are on the everyday.  Which is tough, because you set a high bar.”

“This feels like… seventy five percent more than my usual.”

“Nah, not that much more.  Fifty to sixty?”

“So it is too much.”

“Maybe!  Yeah, I guess.”

Lucy smiled, winked, and then hurried to get into her closet.  She shucked off the dress.

“You don’t want to be late, Lucy!” her mom called out.  “It’s about time!”

“I know!”

“You, Wallace, Mia, Amadeus, Emerson, and Xavier?” Verona asked, not for the first time.

“Yyyyep.  I feel like there’s pressure to perform.”

“Those other four you’re going with are popular-ish in our grade, but they’re not royalty.”

“Could’ve been you and Jeremy.”

“Not really?” Verona replied.  “Let’s not get into that.”

“Okay, sorry,” Lucy said, as she changed.  “Please tell me this works.”

It was a red dress with a pattern that faded into existence toward the bottom.  A looser, summery fit that wasn’t what Lucy normally wore.  Lucy put a belt around her waist, then turned around, posing a bit.

“That’s a ten out of ten in my books, and you know I can’t lie without paying a price I’m not happy paying,” Verona said.

Lucy flashed a brilliant smile.  “How’s my makeup?”

“Solid.  Eight out of ten for me, but I don’t think a guy like Wallace will notice the little things I’m noticing.”

“Ugh.  You’re so picky.”

“And you’re getting honest answers out of me.”

“Hair?” Lucy asked.

“It looks really nice,” Verona said.  Lucy’s hair was down, with two braids helping to keep it manageable.  “Really really nice.  Your mom did a good job.”

It was like Lucy had been bound up tight and ready to fight and through hard work and a lot of anxiety she was letting that guard down and relaxing some.  It showed in her posture and how she held her shoulders, and it showed on her face.

If Wallace was anything worth a damn he’d see that on Lucy’s face and it would be more magical than anything, because it kind of broke Verona’s heart in a good way when she saw it.  Damn it, Wallace had better appreciate how important that was.

Verona wondered if this was a bit of how a parent felt seeing their kid go off on a date, worrying that the date could make their child’s week or utterly destroy them, depending on the little things.

“Shoes, shoes shoes shoes.”

“Sandals?” Verona suggested.

“Maybe!”

Jasmine called out.  “Lucy!  I think they just pulled up out front!  Let me see what you’re wearing!”

“Damn it, darn it.  Should I bring some basic emergency practice stuff?”

“I would.”

“So probably not, huh?” Lucy asked.  “Kidding!”

“Ha ha.  Here.  Bring something.”

“I don’t have pockets.”

“Tuck some spell cards into the side of your underwear, maybe?”

“I’m not you, Verona,” Lucy said.  She held up some sandals.

“Those are good.”

“Call if you need help.”

“Got it.  I’ve got a little bag, actually.  Bottom drawer, over there-”

Verona grabbed it.  She put some spell cards and the necklace with the weapon ring and tags in there, then grabbed some of the makeup stuff that Lucy had used and put that in too, along with some hygiene stuff.

Lucy pulled the sandals on, double checked what Verona had packed for her, gave Verona a look, and then zipped it closed.

Verona followed her down the stairs, and stayed on the stairs, halfway down, looking as Jasmine and Lucy had their moment, Jasmine fussing and taking a quick picture, while Lucy groaned.

The nightmare sat heavy in Verona’s mind.  It wasn’t just Alpeana’s fault.  Too many times, she’d watched from the stairs of her own house as her dad had come in.  She’d felt that sinking feeling.

“Love you, wishing you lots of fun,” Verona said, as Lucy went to the door.

Lucy turned and looked like she was going to say something.

“Don’t say it.  Or I’ll get snippy and it’ll be something annoying or frustrated that sends you off,” Verona said.

“Right.  Love you, bye.  Thanks for the help with the clothes.  Thanks for the help with hair, Mom.”

Then Lucy was gone, meeting Wallace halfway across the lawn.

“She wanted you to go so badly,” Jasmine said.

“I know. I really do.  But the guy I’d ask…”

“Not a good guy?”

“He’s my favorite guy, or he’s pretty up there.  But I can’t do that to him.  He likes me more than I think I can ever like him.”

“Have you communicated that?”

“I thought I did, and I thought I told Lucy but in moments like this she seems to forget.  Or wants to forget.”

“I could talk to her about that.”

“Maybe.”

“Do you think you could have taken another guy?”

“I couldn’t do that to Jeremy either.  I don’t want to be rude or anything, but I sorta went over this with Lucy and I’m a little peeved she’s not getting it, so maybe… let’s not talk about it for right now?”

“Sounds tricky.  If you ever do want to talk about it, I’ll do my best to listen.”

Verona shrugged.  “Maybe.  Thanks.”

“What are you up to while my daughter’s out?”

“Reading, I guess.  Someone helped us out during the summer thing at the start of the year, so I’m trying to help her organize these documents for her work, it’s pretty boring so I think I’m not breaking the spirit of being grounded.  Is that okay?”

“Okay.  That sounds positive.  I’ll be down here or in the back yard if you get bored of reading.  We’ll order in?”

Verona nodded.

Jasmine went outside, and Verona lingered for a second.

It wasn’t just that this was one of those times she really felt like a stranger in this house, or that she felt like a stranger in general.  It was that the specter of her dad lingered in the hallway, an impression in a nightmare that followed her into the waking present.  Like her mind wouldn’t let go of the idea that this was temporary.  This ended.  Less than two weeks.  The reality of that felt heavier than it had a few nights ago.

A quiet desperation chased her thoughts and emotions this way and that, as she tried to process that, tried to think of an escape hatch or solution that would let her dodge that somehow.

A whole load of connection blockers, maybe.

Frigging Alpeana.

Frigging Wallace.  Frigging Lucy.  How in the world did it make sense that a boy Lucy barely knew could spark that kind of genuine nothing-held-back smile, so easily, and Verona couldn’t?  Magic couldn’t?

Frigging… all that stuff they’d said about her and Jeremy, and how unfair it was to Jeremy, and poor Jeremy, he’d get his heart broken.

A hypothetical thing with Wallace that hadn’t happened yet was enough to get Lucy to smile like she almost never did and a real thing with Jeremy that Verona was trying her best at just got pooh-poohed and dismissed.  Blah.

She retreated into the room, and spent about fifteen minutes staring at Nicolette’s thing and utterly failing to make any headway.  She’d already done a hundred and fifty pages earlier in the day, so it wasn’t like she’d failed entirely.  It was just right now that it wasn’t working.

She collapsed on her cot, springs squeaking, and texted Jeremy:

The response was pretty quick:

Jeremy:
heya
my best friend and your best friend are out on dates huh?

Me:
Yup.  I’m grounded and bored.

She hoped that mentioning she was grounded would forestall any hurt over the fact she hadn’t asked him for the triple-date thing, without leading him on or anything.

Jeremy:
Grounded why?

Me:
Stayed out past curfew chasing faeries and nearly getting dragged into the fae realms.

Jeremy:
oh no
that sounds like a night.  tell me about it sometime
will pictures of Sir make things better???

She spammed a stream of consciousness of various emoji at him until the pictures started coming in.  She cooed at the pictures out loud and in texts.

In the midst of it all, tired and on the cusp of maybe falling asleep wayyyyy too early, the texts changed color and a large block of text appeared in the middle of the screen.  It took her tired brain a second to realize it wasn’t Jeremy who’d texted her.

Nicolette:
Heads up.  Be on your guard.  Someone just seeded some info to key people about Alexander Belanger’s circumstances of death.  Word is getting around, the last few pieces are being connected.

Nicolette:
Ray just told Zed 1-2 minutes ago that he really wants to talk to Charles and you three.  He knew but now he thinks he has to do something about it.

Verona tried to think about what to type, and the words eluded her.  She checked and realized the message had gone out to Lucy and Avery as well.  It was interrupting Lucy’s date.

Nicolette sent another message:

Nicolette:
Be ready.

Next Chapter