Author: Wildbow

Gone and Done It – 17.7 | Pale

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She dreamed of visits to Matthew’s house, of sitting around the fire eating, of council meetings, and visits to the basement to see McKay, the doppleganger that had taken their classmate Hailey’s cop uncle’s shape.  She woke up, and the dream became a faint, annoying buzz that lingered, like an alarm going off on the street.

“Just about every method of Other-y communication is letting me know I’ve got to respond, huh?” Verona asked the empty room.  “Did Alpy have to pull extra duty, slipping a dream-notice under our doors?”

She’d spent the night in her Demesne, prepping, stayed up late, and then slept.  The nice thing about sleeping here was that it was comfortable.  It wasn’t like… soft mattress or anything.  But if her blankets were too heavy while she was in the middle of sleeping, the temperature dropped a bit.  There were no wonky springs in her mattress from her and Lucy jumping on it years ago, creating spots that were too firm.  That got unconsciously adjusted.

It was nice.

But the house couldn’t help her with the nagging awareness of Matthew.

She couldn’t do anything about the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thought about the upcoming ritual and the stakes.

It couldn’t help her with how lonely the big house felt.  Yet, anyway.   Maybe one day she could create something to keep herself company.  But to do that she had to get past the big ritual, and to do that she had to answer Matthew’s call.

It was all a big circular loop that made her want to pull the covers tight around herself and never move, while simultaneously making her feel guilty for not being up and moving the moment she was awake.

She’d had a thought, last night, while dwelling on the Jeremy situation.  She’d imagined the kinds of relationship that would work for her, and she’d gone back to the old standby of, like ‘you have your house, guy, I have mine.  We don’t make a fuss over holidays or anything if we don’t want to, and we do what’s fun together.’

Except, like, this was her house now.  Whatever mental picture she had in the future, it would probably have this house as part of it.  If she was going to have a space built around a bookstore, then to have it be her space, it would have to be right here… or at least, it would have to be retrofitted here, and she’d make it a place that wandered, but that was a whole other thing that required a lot of work.

That was weird, to think about.  That this was it.

As she’d drifted off, she’d thought about seizing on that and really using it as a motivator to change the area, help Kennet, do more, be more.

To make Kennet’s downtown into a cool spot where people would come by.  One with a really cool library on Half street with a living space above it.

The ‘change, help, do, be, bookstore!’ energy got her moving- at least enough to roll to one side, reach for her pants on the floor, and get her phone.  The faint loneliness of being the only person in the house made her want to get up and send those early morning texts.

She stopped herself.

Everyone she wanted to text was in town.  Lucy, Avery- even Melissa.

She got up, went downstairs, and grabbed a shitty snack bar from her bag, along with some lemonade to chase it down.  The basement was unfinished, and at the one corner was the water heater.

She faced it down.  It was crap, it was rusted out, it had probably been old before the house had been left to go to pieces.

“Work!” she commanded it.

It sputtered, and there was a faint hum, before it went cold.

Since the ritual, it had given her hot water for one in three times she wanted it.

“No, no, no,” she told it.  “Don’t be lazy.  I want actual hot water today.  Work!”

It sputtered, rumbled, water churning, one piece of metal banged against another as the water moved…

It died, going still.

“Third and final try for right now… House on Half Street, if there’s a trace of power to take, take that power, self repair, do what you gotta do, but let’s get this basic, really nice thing going again, okay?  Hot showers for the rest of our lives together.  You should want to give them to me, I want ’em, let’s make that happen.  Work!”

The water heater jolted to life again.  Water churned, metal banged, the water heater rocked slightly, and pipe banged against wall where it stabbed up from the water heater, going upstairs.

“Come on, come on…” she held her position, staring it down.  “Come on-”

“Fuck!  We’ll try again tomorrow, then.”

She made her way back upstairs, stopping to mix another thing of lemonade at the kitchen sink, and put her alchemy setup on to make coffee.  Normally she wouldn’t have left it on when she wasn’t in the room to tend to it, but hey, Demesne.

She showered, and she shrieked at how cold the water was.  She made it quick and even with that limited exposure, she could feel her bones aching, her hands shaking.

Then she got to the laundry she’d brought over and realized she’d have to go home anyway.

“Fuck.”

She sorted herself out, wore her clean-enough clothes, and packed up her stuff.  Her pending response to Matthew’s Demesne claim nagged at her like a blinking light in the corner of her vision.

She quickly texted Avery: You up?

Avery:
yes

Coming by in ~20-30.

That got a thumbs-up in response.

She messaged Lucy.

Lucy:
Not up.  Sleeping in.  Barely slept.  Try me at noon.

Lucy:
Look after Ave

Verona dried her hair as best she could, gathered up all her clothes into a bag, then headed back downstairs, stepping into her shoes, which she didn’t really tie so much as she kept them tied by default.  Unless she expected to be in a hairy situation, anyway.  Backpack on, clothes bag slung over her shoulder, she stopped at the front door and put her hand flat against the door.

Kennet above, she willed.

The air changed outside.  She could feel it grazing the property like air brushing against the little hairs on her arms.

Wait, coffee.  She turned around, and got her coffee, filling up a container, before turning the fire off.  She gave it a test sip.  That’s probably the sort of coffee that makes people who drink awful coffee scrunch their faces up and wince.

She opened the front door and stepped outside, hurrying down to the end of the property and out into Kennet above, letting the way close behind her.

Getting there.  But the water heater needed to be a focus.  She wondered if it would be better to negotiate for a replacement.  Maybe a loan from Avery?  Or help from Matthew?

Even if it was a shitty old water heater, so long as it wasn’t like, rusted to the point of having a hole in the side, that had to be better.  She could get it the rest of the way.

The walk was nice.  The town wasn’t really awake, the weather was crisp, good for a sweater and open jacket, and she had one hand gripping her bag from the inside, like a half-mitten, while the other held the coffee, with the faint warmth leeching through the container.

She was careful in how she approached home, avoiding being seen from the windows, going to the side door, and heading from there down to the basement.

The washer was full.  Ugh.  She sorted out laundry, and put the dryer on to get the wrinkles out.  While she was at it, she pulled wet laundry out of the washer and draped her dad’s work shirts and clothes on top, for hanging up later.  It was one of the things he got crankiest about doing perfectly, where even hanging a shirt on a clothes hanger was too much because the hanger would make it poke up at the shoulders.  At the same time, it was also one of the things she least liked to do.

A movement to the left startled her.

Fetch-Verona, wearing P.J.s.  She approached, picked up the shirts, and began sorting them out.

“Any updates?” Verona asked.  “Dad situation?”

“The same.”

“Figured.”

“Yeppers,” the Fetch said, shrugging.

“You’re not absorbing any of that negativity or anything?”

“Nah.  Not since the little ward you put inside me.”

“Good stuff.  Does he suspect you’re not the real me?”

Fetch-Verona snorted.

Verona grabbed a tank top that was stuck to the wet clothes the Fetch had and pitched it into the dryer.  The Fetch fixed the sleeve in a work shirt of Verona’s dad’s that she needed to hang up.

“Anything else?” Verona asked.

“Got that big social studies project back.  We didn’t do so hot,” the Fetch said.

“What?  Seriously?”

“She said it was nicely worded, good thoughts, but that this wouldn’t fly in University.”

“Fuck!”

Fetch-Verona shook out the shirt and went to hang it up.

“There’s a test Wednesday, and an art project due Thursday,” the Fetch said.  “We were going to have both due on the same day but someone said we had the big test that day, and she moved it.”

“Son of a- I’ve got some other, major, saving-Kennet stuff this weekend.”

The Fetch shrugged.

“I want them to reboot the Blue Heron, do things right this time and I’d go attend full time.  Somehow.  Screw all this.  I want magic school.”

The Fetch hung up her dad’s underwear on the clothes rack.  Her dad insisted the briefs got out of shape if thrown in the dryer.  So they had to go on the clothes rack, and not bunched up or clustered too close together, either.

Gross gross.

The Fetch grabbed a sheet, untangling it from the wet clothes still in the wash.  Verona helped with that, so it wouldn’t pick up grit from the floor.

“Can I stay while you’re at magic school?”

“What?” Verona asked, almost dropping her end of the sheet they were draping over the line.

“At school, mostly.  Not so much here.  Obviously.”

Verona stared down the Fetch.  “Obviously.”

“It’s not a big deal if not,” the Fetch said, matching the stare.

“Are you developing- are you becoming a person?  Sentient?  Aware beyond the bounds of the instructions?”

“No.  But I could if I worked at it.”

“Don’t- don’t work at it, okay?  I think that would lead to a lot of grief.  Yours and mine.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe something to revisit, but… oh no, no no.  Let’s- let’s not,” Verona said.

“Okay,” the Fetch said, before standing on her tiptoes to chuck the end of the damp sheet over the line that was strung across part of the basement.

Verona grabbed one of her sweaters and hung it up, watching the Fetch carefully.

“No, uh, murderous inclinations or jealousy toward me, right?”

The Fetch shook her head.  “Nope.  Probably a good thing too.  I’m scary when I go all out.”

“You know, that personality quirk I put on your image map was a lot cuter when it wasn’t about this.”

Fetch-Verona shrugged.

“Any other weirdness, developments?” Verona asked.

“Only that little bit of a want, really.”

Verona shook her head.  “Don’t, please?”

“I won’t, then.  Or I’ll try not to.”

Verona frowned.

The Fetch hung up another of her dad’s work shirts.  Verona handled her own laundry.

“Tell me if there’s more desires or wants?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Verona said.  “Am I going to cause you any harm or grief or anything like that if I ask you to go back to being a pile of sticks?”

“Nah.”

“Okay, let’s- let’s do that for now.  I gotta wash and change those clothes anyway, and we can’t have my dad seeing two of us.”

The Fetch gave Verona the finger guns, then collapsed, becoming a bundle of sticks and twine, forming a very abstract human shape, with Verona’s clothes gathered up within and around it.  The day outfit was stuffed inside, the sleep clothes were worn on the outside.

Verona fished inside for the slip of paper, looking for the changes and amendments.  The bit about informing Verona about any other changes was there at the bottom, and a few lines above was another line that looked like pencil that had been erased, only faint traces of edges of letters remaining.

“I didn’t mean- you erased the dang line when I told you not to want school,” she told the paper.  “I wanted to at least look at it and see what it said and where it might have come from.”

She folded the paper and put it in her pocket, the got the little anti-negativity ward and strung it around her neck to hold onto.

Verona extricated all of the clothes that were worn by and stored inside the Fetch, and dumped them in the wash.  She emptied the clothes bag she’d brought over from the House on Half Street, and sorted out a fresh set of clothes.

Partway through, she looked down at the pile of sticks and twine lying across the doorway between laundry room and basement.

“Fuck.”

She stuck the bundle between the laundry room sink and the wall, stepped up onto the edge of the washer door to get high enough to properly turn the washing machine on, started the dryer, and finished picking out the clothes she wanted to take back to the House on Half Street.  Then she chugged the last of her coffee, more for the caffeine than the taste.  Way more for the caffeine than the taste- the taste was bitter enough she could see stars behind her eyes.  She rinsed it out and stuffed the empty container back in her bag.

Warm shower upstairs, for a better clean?

She didn’t want to run into her dad.

Fuck.  Fuck.

She changed into her most oversized sweater, with the collar that slipped off one shoulder, with sleeves that went over her hands, and leggings with the black denim skirt she’d worn to the end-of-school party.  She sorted her things out once again, left her clothes bag with fresh clothes in the basement, then headed out the side door.

Kennet had changed, and it was subtle, but there were three cars on the road between her place and Avery’s.  Some of that was that it was early, but it felt like if she’d had this walk last year, it would have been ten, or twelve, maybe.  Maybe a big truck supplying one of the shops for the day.

There were a bunch of cars around Avery’s place.  Verona skipped up the steps to the front door and knocked.

She could hear the commotion before the door even opened.

Avery’s mom greeted her.  “Verona.  Hi sweetie.  Come in.  Have you had breakfast?”

Sweetie?  Would she have addressed Lucy like that?

Verona’s first meeting with Avery’s parents outside of cat mode had been crumpling up into a ball and crying in Jasmine’s lap.

Not her finest moment.

“Had a snack bar and coffee,” Verona replied, pushing that memory out of her mind.

“Coffee will stunt your growth.”

“That’s the plan.  I like being tiny, mostly.”

“Well… that’s good, I guess.  Come in.  We have plenty of food.  Avery’s up, but I’m not sure how ready she is.  She might have hopped into the shower real quick.  Do you want pancakes?”

Kids shrieked in the background.  There was such a commotion as four of them came tearing down the stairs with toys in hand that it sounded like someone had fallen down the stairs.  Avery’s sister was shouting and Verona was having so much trouble absorbing the overlapping voices she couldn’t even string the sounds together into words.

“Kerry!” Avery’s dad raised his voice.  “Kerry!  Five seconds!  Five!  Four!  Thank you!  You are not the boss of your cousins just because this is your house.”

“Uhhhhh.  I’m not that into sweet things.”

“Well, if you change your mind, help yourself.  I don’t suppose I can enlist you to help?”

“Sure.”

Verona made it two steps before she had to stop in her tracks because Sheridan had come down the stairs.  Sheridan smirked at her.

“Pancake ingredients are all in, if you can stir?  We’ve got a bowl with chocolate chips and a bowl that’s plain.  Pick one, put in some elbow grease.”

“Sure doing.”  Verona pushed up her sleeves, started to stir, and the sleeves fell down around her hands.  She looked for and spotted a little dog ceramic filled with spare elastic bands from foods, sitting on the windowsill behind the sink.  She stretched over the counter to reach for it.

“Who’s this?  Don’t we have enough people in this house already?” A guy asked.  He looked forty or so, and his head was shaved to hide a receding hairline, which was still faintly evident on his scalp in a rusty red color.

“Verona is always welcome,” Avery’s dad said.  He moved the dog of elastics into Verona’s reach.

Elastics pinned her sleeves in a rolled up position.  She set to work, mixing.

“Verona’s alright,” Sheridan said.  “Avery might smell like jockstrap-”

“Sheridan!” Avery’s mom exclaimed.

“-and be so boring our parents basically forgot she existed for a few months-”

“Sheridan!” Avery’s mom and dad both raised their voices.  Her dad added, “come on!”

“-But she makes cool friends, I guess.”

“Thanks,” Verona said.  “But she’s got one up on you, since she actually has friends.”

“Verona!” Avery’s dad said.

“Wow,” Sheridan breathed.  “Cutting.”

Avery’s dad moved between them.  “Separate, you two.  Can we not have this devolve into a knife fight in the middle of breakfast prep?”

“She shouldn’t dish it if she can’t take it,” Verona said.

“I can dish and I can take.  It’s cool.  I respect the viciousness.”

“That’s cool, but don’t dish at my friend when she’s not here.  I’m protective, grrr.”

“So cute,” Sheridan said, reaching over to pinch at Verona’s cheek.  Verona shrugged her shoulder up to block the hand, pressing cheek to shoulder to make it even harder.  “Do you want introductions?”

“Probably won’t remember if you do,” Verona said, hugging the bowl with one arm while stirring with the other.  It meant she had the freedom of movement to turn.  She saw a skinny boy about her age, with hair almost the color of red wine and pale skin, scratching the side of his stomach.  It moved his shirt and her eyes moved automatically to the flash of near-white stomach.  she could see the faintest wisps of body hair between navel and pyjama pants.

She slowly turned ninety degrees as he walked sleepily by, then looked past where he was getting orange juice to Sheridan, who was smirking.  Verona made a show of stirring more vigorously.

The kitchen would have felt crowded to Verona if there were four people in it, but with Avery’s mom at the stove, Avery’s dad in the entryway by the dining room, the uncle guy helping two kids in the under-ten bracket get something to drink, Sheridan, and now the lad, it felt like she had about two feet by two feet to herself, and any movement in any direction would mean she was in someone’s way.

“If you don’t want pancakes, there is fruit, fruit juice, I think we’re already out of bacon.  The earliest risers claimed it already.  When we’re out of pancake batter we’re moving to french toast.”

“Um, do you have lemon juice?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, I’ll make something when I’m done,” Verona replied.

“Who’s this?” the guy asked, looking at Verona.

“Avery’s friend.”

“That’s Kyle, he’s uncle Sean’s,” Sheridan said, indicating the guy with the receding hair.  Kyle did not look much like uncle Sean.  “And if you’re looking for the cousins Avery hangs out with most- Breanne.  There.  She’s uncle Declan’s.  Uncle D is out getting pain meds because he screwed up his back after sleeping on the couch, complaining about being a second class citizen.”

“He’s not a second class citizen,” a female voice from the next room said.  “He’s a citizen who made last minute changes to the sleeping arrangements, deciding he didn’t like the look of the hotel.”

“The local hotels and motels are pretty sketch,” Verona reported.

“How do you know that?” Sheridan asked.

“Breanne, honey.  did you sleep well, at least?” Avery’s mom asked.

“Yeah.”  Breanne replied.  Breanne was pretty, with bright red hair in tight curls.  She was one of the only non-adults who’d gotten out of sleep clothes so far.

“Don’t lie,” Sheridan said.  “Avery tosses, turns, and kicks like a mo-fo.”

“Mo-fo,” one of the kids with Uncle Sean said.

“It’s not that bad,” Verona said.  “Avery’s fine.”

“Is she?  How do you know?” Avery’s dad asked.

“Summer camp?  Three of us, two beds.  I’d do it again.”

“She didn’t kick,” Breanne said.

Literally every person in this house except maybe one kid had red hair, or close to.  Verona wondered if this was a tiny bit of what it felt like to be Lucy, the only black person in a room, feeling so much like the odd one out.

“Did Ronnie show up?” Avery called out.  “Mom?”

“She’s here!  Kitchen!”

Avery navigated her way to Verona, hugging her from behind, looking over her shoulder.  “You were brave enough to venture into the den of Kellys and Walshes.”

“And Purcell, until the paperwork goes through and I can be a Kelly again,” A woman in the next room said, out of Verona’s line of sight.  She leaned over to peer in, and Verona was able to see her.

Oh, one other person without red hair.  Basically a 40-ish year old Sheridan with a forced smile.

“You’re a Kelly at heart,” Avery’s mom said.  “How’s the mixing going, Verona?”

“I think you’re ok.  Might be slightly lumpy, but there was a lot in there.  I tried to squish it against the sides.”

“Thank you.  There’s some finished pancakes on the covered dish if you’ve changed your mind.  It’s appreciated.”

“Sure,” Verona said.  She ducked under a reaching arm to get to the other end of the counter, with Avery going around Uncle Sean.

“What’s the plan?” Avery asked, quiet.

“Um, first off, probably need a set of passcodes so you and Lucy can distinguish me from my twin.”

“Enh?” Avery grunted, glancing at her cousins.

“You don’t have a twin,” Avery’s dad said.  “I think we’d know.”

“I do but she mostly sticks around the house while I break curfew, goes to school for me, does the chores I don’t want to do.  I just figured, y’know, things moved, I dunno, maybe five percent closer to her being willing or able to kill me?  Might be good to have a policy.”

“Silly,” Avery’s mom said, putting a hand on Verona’s shoulder, partially to keep her out of the way as she dumped more pancakes onto the platter.

“Well, sure,” Avery said.  “We can discuss the strategy.  What’s the plan for today, though?”

“Walk in the woods, around the outer edges of town?  Standard patrol?”

“Cool.”

“Take Kyle, Breanne and Sheridan,” Avery’s mom said.  “Ooh, even better, if you don’t want pancakes, I’ll give you money, you can go pick up something for your walk.”

“Hmmm, not sure that’d be cool,” Avery said.

“Not cool with me,” Sheridan said.  “I’ve got plans of doing nothing, I fulfilled my obligations with a long car trip yesterday.”

“I don’t mind.  We can bring those guys,” Verona said.

“Can we?” Avery asked, frowning.

Verona shrugged.

“I dunno,” Avery said.

“I haven’t showered, I don’t want to go out feeling and looking gross,” Breanne said.

“Nobody knows you here,” Uncle Sean said.  “Nobody you know will ever see or care.  Relax, cut loose, unclench.”

“I care.”

“You look more beautiful after just waking up than I feel after going the extra mile.  Go, I insist.”

“A few less people in this house,” Avery’s uncle said.  “Please.”

“Go get changed,” Avery’s mom said.  “Is there a lineup for the bathroom?”

Sheridan snorted.  “If you gotta go, use a shrub out back.”

“Go, say you have permission to cut in line.  Don’t take more than five minutes, but get sorted.  Then go with these guys.  You too, Kyle.”

The shuffling, sending kids around with instructions.  Verona ducked her head down and got a plate, putting sugar on her pancake and then cutting the sweet with drops of lemon juice.  Just one, to tide her over.

Music began blaring in the next room over.  Avery’s younger siblings began scream-singing the lyrics.

“Don’t wake up Grumble!”

“If Grumble ain’t moving by now, he ain’t moving again,” Sheridan said.

Avery’s mom leaned over.  “Tracy, do you mind checking on your Father-in-Law?  See if he’s awake?”

“Why phrase it like that?” Avery’s uncle Sean asked.  “Her father-in-law.”

“Let’s not fight,” Avery’s dad said.

Avery made a few tight gestures, and whispered something to Breanne and Kyle.  There were some nods.

In the end, Breanne didn’t take the five minutes in the bathroom.  She, Avery, and Kyle got changed.

By the time the three of them were back downstairs, the adults had gone out into the back porch to have a heated conversation that was apparently supposed to be out of earshot but was very audible, about the care for Grumble and the division of labor, mostly fed by Avery’s Uncle Sean’s defensiveness, making mountains out of even the most gentle phrasing.

Avery’s aunt Clara gave them some money to buy breakfast, and then focused the rest of her attention on corralling the kids and distracting them from the ongoing argument.

They went on a group walk to escape the house, Breanne wearing Avery’s running shoes- the ones without the air runes.

“So your aunt is your mom’s sister and your uncle is your dad’s brother?” Verona asked.  “And they got together?”

“Yeah,” Avery said.  “They met at the wedding.  The way I was told it, they were at the same table, they didn’t talk at all, then they basically tripped over each other as they were getting their stuff to leave and never separated.”

“That is not the story I got,” Kyle said.  “My mom couldn’t get my dad out of her head so she called him a few months later.  He felt the same way, they got married real fast.”

“Were you born nine months after the wedding, Kyle?” Verona asked.

“Uhhh- no.  No!  Stop that!  Don’t ask me that.  I don’t want to think about my parents doing any of that.”

“Callan was already born, but too young to be a proper ring bearer… timeline works,” Avery said.

“No!” Kyle said, hands clutching his head.

Verona gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

“Oh my god, so many comments and little jokes suddenly make sense,” Avery said, eyes widening.

“Ah, no,” Kyle gasped, hands at his head.  “No.”

“How did either of you not know?” Breanne asked.  “She- Veronica?”

“Verona.  No ‘nic’.”

“She gets ten seconds of story and she connects the dots.”

“Don’t underestimate propaganda,” Kyle said.  “I got the one fake story since I was little.”

“Doing my part to kill the idea of romance,” Verona remarked.

“I could ask you about fifty things I want to ask about, but I can’t with my cousins here,” Avery told her.

“It’s fine.  It’s better if we include them in stuff, right?”

“Is it?”

“Feeling the love,” Kyle said.

“It’s ’cause I care about you I don’t want to rope you in,” Avery said.

“Oh, where’s Snowdrop at?” Verona asked.

“Snowdrop?” Breanne asked.

“She’s a girl I-”  Avery said, at the same time Verona said, “An opossum-”

“Right,” Breanne said.

“An opossum obsessed, very cool girl I hang out with.  She knows a lot of people I know.  She was up late last night, messing around, she basically went to sleep when I got up.”

“Cool,” Verona replied.  Keeping watch on things, then.

They reached the bottom corner of downtown, and then, faced with the decision of cheap, iffy donuts from the bakery and more-expensive-for-what-you-get Killaloe Dough, split up.  Verona might have gone for the donuts if she’d known Kyle was going.  Just ’cause he was nice to look at.  Skinny, with very defined facial structure.

Instead, she ended up with Breanne.  The benefit of the town being especially sleepy post-knotting was that there wasn’t much of a line.  Verona got more coffee and directed Breanne on the best options.

“Why do you rub at your hand like that?” Breanne asked.

Verona looked down.  She hadn’t realized she was doing it.  “Injury.”

“Oh.  Sorry.”

“Nah.  Anyway.  That’s a family, huh?  All good?”  Verona stopped rubbing at her palm and stuck her hand into her skirt pocket, pressing it flat against her thigh.

“Avery’s changed,” Breanne said, as they waited for an older couple.  “But she’d probably say the same about me, I guess.”

“For the better?” Verona asked.

“Yeah.  A lot better.  I guess she, uh, found herself?  She said she broke up with her old best friend, who lived out of town, and she found you and some other person?”

“Lucy.  Yeah.”

“Friends?  Best friends?  Or-?”

“Best friends.  Tough though, with her moving.”

“That’s so weird.  That they did it, broke up the family.  I had a whole bunch of friends, their parents would separate, and everyone would assure me no, it’s just a temporary thing, they love each other.  But then they’d divorce.  I keep waiting for it to happen.  I shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“It’s cool.  It’s a bit weird.  But like… if you look at this town…”

Verona gestured.  The gradual and slight sloping at the foot of the ski hill meant they could look out over Kennet.

“…Doesn’t look like it, but it’s dying.  Imploding.  Crumbling.  Depending on what happens, there might not be a Kennet to properly live in five years.”

And here I am, having attached myself to this location with a major ritual.  And if this all goes wrong I’m Forsworn.  Game over.

No regrets.

But fuck.  Fuck.

“Huh,” Breanne remarked.

Their food and drinks came across the counter.  Breanne paid with the money her aunt had given her.  Verona emptied the coffee into her thermos.

“You’re not even adding anything to it?”

“Nah.  So anyway, Avery got out early.  I think her dad would’ve, but work, and… your granddad?”

“Nah.  He’s Uncle Connor and Uncle Sean’s dad.”

“Right.  What you’re seeing might be more the implosion of the town, not anything between Avery’s mom and dad, I think.  Or they were going to part ways because Kennet doesn’t have opportunities, and then the implosion made it worse.”

“You know more about what Avery’s got going on than I think I know about my own dad and family.”

“Gotta.  My job as a best friend.  What’s your deal?”

“Uhhhh…” Breanne drew out the sound, startled.  “Deal?”

“Labels, story, history, hopes, dreams, dynamics…?”

“Uhhh…?”

“Unique perspectives, drama, defining hobbies, defining hates and loathings, fears, concerns, skeletons in the closet, criminal history, criminal inclinations you’ve yet to act on…?”

“Uh.  No?”

“Nothing?  There’s nothing there?  You’re a hollow shell, a puppet dancing to someone else’s strings?”

“Uhh.  Sure?”

“Why does Breanne look like a deer in the headlights?” Avery asked, as she and Kyle approached.  She held up a box of donut holes, and Kyle was picking his selection from inside the box.

“I’m interrogating her.”

“Be nice to my cousin.”

“I’m worried,” Breanne told Verona.  “As an answer your question.”

“Hecking valid,” Verona replied.

“I think you’re literally the only person in my life who’s asked like… that.”

“Criminal inclinations and all?” Verona asked.

“All.  Who I am.  Is that weird?  That I can’t think of one person who’s asked or been interested?”

“Nope,” Avery said, putting her hands in her pockets.  “Wasn’t until I met a certain teacher, or Verona and Lucy, that I really started thinking about it.  You’d think people would ask sooner, but nah.  It’s all, ‘she runs fast so she’ll be an Olympian, obviously’ and jumping to their own conclusions.”

“The three of us did a thing in the woods, had to talk about who we were,” Verona said.

“Like leadership camp?” Kyle asked.

“Kinda?  We took on roles, agreed to look after Kennet.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah,” Avery said.  She frowned at Verona.  “But nobody showed interest before then.  But go ahead, I don’t want to change the subject to us, Breanne.”

“I- that’s kind of the answer?  There’s nothing more special than that,” Breanne said.  “I- I was watching everyone around me and there were like, twenty people over the course of my first two years of high school, um… was like the light went out.”

“That’s sad,” Avery said.  “Let’s walk?  Keep talking, but yeah, let’s keep walking.  I can picture it, though.  The light going out.”

Verona thought of Gabe.  Maybe the most extreme example of that, early into their careers as practitioners.  Which got her thinking about rituals, and Others, and…

“Was it all at your school?” Verona asked.  “I wonder if something was up.”

“What, like, mold?  Or a teacher being abusive behind the scenes?” Kyle asked.

“Or something,” Verona said.

“It wasn’t even all at my school.  Um.  Sheridan, kinda?” Breanne said.  She looked over at Avery.  “You?  Last year?”

“Ah, yeah,” Avery replied.

“I hope you don’t mind my saying.”

“Nah.  It was a thing.”

So maybe not an Other.  Darn.

Others, at least, were things that could be fixed.

“I’m glad you seem happier.  More you.”

“Thanks.  Same here, both about me being happier and you seeming- better?”

“Bunch of people I’d talk to sometimes went on meds, or had stuff.  My dad gave me the talk, warned me there’d be all these issues, but he mostly focused on body stuff.  And meanwhile, it was like, all around me, these guys and girls are… depression, depression, drama, cyber-bullying, depression… like we’re moving on from being kids, leaving fun and games behind, and then there’s…”

“Jack shit,” Verona replied.  “If you aren’t careful, anyways.”

“Yeah.”

“I feel like that’s the thing with virtually all the adults I know,” Verona said.  “Not so much the teenagers.”

Breanne went on, “I started chasing down anything that interests me.  Clothes, boys.  And sometimes it’s like, I don’t care all that much?  I asked a guy out and my friends were way sadder about him saying no than I was.  Like, eh?”

“Respect,” Verona said.

“I felt bad I didn’t care.  Like… I’m supposed to, right?”

“Sometimes you want to give all your time to something, but you can’t, and other times you wonder if you’re a sociopath?” Verona asked.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Kyle said.

“I would,” Breanne said.  She looked over at Verona.  “Yeah.”

Verona nodded.

“I think you think you are more than you are,” Avery said.  “You care more than you pretend, Ronnie.”

“Maybe.”

“So I’m trying to keep the light bright.  Feels artificial, a lot of the time.  Like anyone and everyone can see through it.  Especially when I’m putting in all this effort and then, deep down, sometimes, I just… don’t care.”

“Girls are scary,” Kyle said.

“I think that’s only some girls,” Avery said.  “I don’t think I ever really don’t care.  Sorta wish I could turn it off sometimes?”

“Maybe your sorts pair up nicely with my sorts?” Verona asked.  “Keep each other honest?”

“Maybe,” Avery murmured.  She leaned over, bumping Verona’s shoulder with hers.

“So, what’s your deal, Kyle?” Verona asked.  “Labels, interests, the color of your soul, things you like, sordid history, unsorted history, recurring dreams, aspirations-?”

Avery covered Verona’s mouth with a hand to stop the stream of words.

“Crap programmer, crap artist, crap game maker, hoping to take all that crap and maybe combine it into an almost-maybe-something?  Purple.  Uh… I really wanted to give you an answer to each one of those, all smart and everything, but I can only remember the first few and the last one.  I already covered aspirations, I guess.”

“Huh.  I’m a crappy artist too.”

“Verona’s a really good artist.”

“Crappy relative to where I want to be, I think,” Verona replied, staring daggers at Avery.  Don’t fricking gainsay me.

“Yeah.  That sounds right.”

“How’s your inner light doing, Kyle?” Verona asked.

“Uhhh, super heavy question for eight thirty on the morning after I had a long-ass car trip and dealt with all the family crowded in together.  From a stranger, too.”

“Like your- your dad?  What he said to Breanne.  What you say probably won’t follow you home.  Cut loose,” Verona said.

“Unclench,” Breanne said, grimacing.

“He says that to me all the time, and it’s the most aggravating thing.  I’d punch him if I thought I could get away with it,” Kyle said.

“I left that out on purpose,” Verona said.  “I got bad vibes from it.”

“But my inner light?  Uh.  I’m okay, I guess?  Feels a lot like- nevermind.”

Verona gave his arm a light push.  “C’mon.”

“It’s dumb.  It makes me sound lame.  Feels like I’m riding the line, you know?  And the only thing that gets me excited is… how lame does it sound if I say it’s movies and games I’m looking forward to?  Or- there’s this girl in my advanced Bio, she’s from Russia, I think, and her English is really bad.  She looks scared every time the teacher starts talking too fast.  I do group work with her.  It feels good, helping.”

“You should ask her out,” Breanne said.

“Nah.  I can’t even ask her if she wants to study together or anything.  Moment school’s out she practically runs off.”

“Anyway.  You look forward to that,” Avery said.

“Yeah.  But it’s like… if she got moved to another seat, or there was a few months without anything new coming out?  I dunno.  I could see myself not being okay.  Is that weird?”

“Nah,” Verona told him.  “Take what you can get?  If it works, it works.”

“I’m doing this thing,” Avery said.  “Warning you in advance, I could be annoying about it, but just let me know what’s up, I’ll adjust.  I’m staying in touch with people.  Emailing, video calls.  Whatever.  Just, trying to stay in the loop with people from summer camp, Verona and Lucy, friends we’ve made along the way…”

“I don’t know what we’d talk about.”

“We’d figure that out.  Just offering, y’know.”

“Nah, I’d be self-conscious.”

Verona told him, “One thing you could do, you should talk to our friend Lucy about that.  She told me over text she’s sleeping in this morning.  Um, but she does subscription boxes, for music.  It could be something you have coming in every month, scheduled, less chance there’ll be a time with nothing.”

“Hm.  For games?  Or movies?”

“Sure.  Maybe.  Probably.”

They’d gotten far enough along to be deeper into the valley, east of Kennet, south of the Bowdler ski hill.

Conversation moved onto movies and things.

They were walking out to the far end of the valley, getting into the trees, when Verona saw Mallory.

Mallory saw them too.  She turned.  Cheap, self-drawn tattoos with shaky lines marked cheek, cheekbone, neck, hands and arms.  And elsewhere, but the clothes she was wearing covered up a lot of it.  Her sleeves were pushed up and her arms caked in dirt.  Her stare was intense.

“Mal!” Verona greeted her.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“Those aren’t real tattoos, are they?” Breanne asked.

“Hug,” Verona told Mallory.  “But don’t touch me with those hands.”

Mallory gave Verona a sorta chicken-hug, chin and elbows, hands back over her own shoulders.

“This is Mal.”

“Are those tattoos real?”

“Did them myself,” Mallory said.  “Who this?”

“Family, in town,” Avery said.

“And that’s Avery.  Second out of the trio.”

Mallory gave Avery an appraising look.  “Feel like I’ve seen you before.”

“Yeah,” Avery replied.  “We haven’t talked though.”

In the dream meetings.

“Mal is helping us with this urban legend, murder arcade thing.”

“Oh yeah,” Mallory said.  “Dressed up and everything.  I’m basically a carny for as long as I’m a part of this.”

She tapped her cheek.  Breanne and Kyle visibly relaxed.

There, nice, little lies to soothe the innocents.  It’s just an act, pretend the tattoos are part of the costume..

“It’s weird that she’s out here, though,” Verona remarked.

“Oh, that’s ’cause I’m burying a body,” Mallory said.

Breanne and Kyle un-relaxed.  Could’ve used a lie there, Mal.

“Huh,” Verona replied.  “I don’t want to ask, but… human?”

“Dog.  Speaking of, I don’t know if any of you know where I can find a pitbull?  Gray and white?  Or gray, along with a convenient supply of bleach?”

“Don’t bleach dogs, please,” Avery told Mallory.

“Or any dog that’s, hm, yea big?  Gray?  Or wait, I’m dumb.  If it’s white, I can dye it.”

“That’s not your first thought?” Kyle asked.

“Either way, if it’s the right general size and maybe the right shape, I think it’s fine.  The owner really isn’t that bright.”

“Sorry, I don’t keep track of anything dog related,” Verona replied.  “And these guys are from out of town.”

“Uh, no,” Avery said, glancing between Mallory and Verona, as if unsure how okay this was.  “No idea.”

“My stepmom would owe me so much.  Oh well.  What are you yahoos doing out here?”

“Visiting the landmarks for this morning,” Verona reported.  “Thought I’d bring Avery with.”

“Cool.  I thought I’d bury the old boy out by one of those landmarks, as you call ’em.  Felt more fitting.”

“What fit-?” Avery started.  She glanced at her cousins.  “I have so many questions, but nevermind.”

“Come on,” Verona said.  “Hang with us?”

“Sure, making connections and all that?” Mallory asked.

Verona nodded.

She gets it.  Same rationale as the arcade.

Mallory stuck out a hand.  “Nice to meet you guys.”

“Sure,” Kyle said, looking weirded out by the handshake.

Verona saw Breanne put a hand out too, but Mallory was already moving around to their flanks.

You only want one connection, you harlot.

They walked through the woods, and worked their way through to the shrine.

“Weird,” Kyle said.

“It’s a thing,” Verona remarked.  She peeked into the box of donut holes, and got one pale donut with glaze and one strawberry one.  She bit out a chunk, tore off a bit of the glazed donut, and pushed it deep into the hole.

There.  Bit of near-white uncovered from the flesh, for Unveiled Skullbone, our spirit of bone showing through flesh, Verona thought.

She set it on the shrine.

“Uhhh, so is this a religious thing?” Kyle asked.

“Local custom by bored teens,” Mallory said.  “Like we’re doing with the urban legend murder arcade.  Sixteen landmarks around town.”

“Huh.”

Avery added, “Good places to walk by if you want to walk through nature, see what the last few visitors have done.  So far we’re lucky, and there haven’t been many of these that got knocked down?”

“Pretty lucky so far,” Verona said.  She looked at Mallory.  “Have you guys put any together?”

“Yeah.  Done the other set, pretty much.  Part of the reason I came was to check what you did, take notes.”

“I’ll stop by later,” Verona murmured.

Mallory nodded.

Sixteen more in Kennet below, then.

“Gotta hold onto what we can hold onto, while Kennet’s crumbling, even if it’s weird,” Verona added, for the benefit of Kyle and Breanne.

“Verona mentioned some of that stuff,” Breanne told Avery, who nodded.

The spirit wasn’t showing itself, but when she used her Sight, she could see it in the background, peering through trees.  A shifting face where the only constant was a head wound, flesh hanging off from a savage attack, bone exposed.  To her Sight, it was all painted in bloodstained white gauze and crimson beneath.

Avery emptied some water over the shrine.

“Really eerie,” Kyle said.

“You should do it too,” Mallory said.  She had her hands in her pockets, trying too hard to look casual as she leaned against a tree.

“I dunno.”

Avery passed Kyle the water.  He walked over, and shrugged, emptying the water onto the shrine.

The spirit moved closer.  Kyle looked up, and frowned.

Like he’d almost seen.

“Me too?” Breanne asked.

“I guess,” Mallory said.

Kyle passed her the water.

“Can we talk?” Avery asked Verona.  Then, frowning slightly, she looked back at Mallory as she asked, “Is it okay if we talk?”

“Mal will look after these guys,” Verona replied.  She rubbed at her hand as they walked away, leaving Breanne to rinse the shrine.

“I think I saw an animal,” Breanne raised her voice.  “It was hurt?”

Then they were out of earshot.  Leaving Mallory to field that bit.

“Is this okay?  Are we in any danger with Awareness?  With the arcade?”

“Everything I’ve read says it takes a lot to shatter Awareness.  Like, the Dossiers?  With Clem?  She got like, I dunno, twelve magic items before she really clicked to it.  Even me, at the clearing, surrounded by Guilherme, Alpeana, the Choir, singing from nowhere, goblins?  Back when we awoke?”

“Yeah.”

“Took me a lot of sustained pressure.  So long as there’s a reasonable explanation, innocents cling to it.  Or find it.  And the universe helps that along.  Coincidences happen to help, y’know, clear away the evidence.  Karma doing its thing.  Keeping the system intact.”

“Hmm,” Avery sighed.  She relaxed a bit.  “Feels bad, testing things.”

“Probably not the super best thing for our karma in the short term, if we’re testing things and forcing karma to pick up the slack.  But… so long as we help it along, I think we’re ok.  And it really should help, if we have connections.  Not just between us and the innocent, or Kennet and the innocent, but… undercity and overcity, Other and human, blah blah.”

“Blah,” Avery murmured.  She sighed.  “Have you visited Matthew?”

Verona shook her head.  She was aware of that blinking light and nagging sensation that there was a Claim.  It was worse when she was away from the innocents.  She rubbed at her hand.  “Not since he started.”

“It’s nagging at me.”

“Did you dream about it?” Verona asked.

Avery nodded.

“Yeah,” Verona replied.  “I’ll stop in after I say bye to you guys.  On my way to Lucy, maybe.  She said she’d be up around noon.  I’ll see what he needs, maybe Lucy or you can stop in at noon, then later today, supply him?”

“Cool,” Avery said.  “I wasn’t lying when I said I had a whole bunch of stuff I wanted to ask about.  What the heck was that about the twin thing?  Your Fetch?”

“Yeah, uh, minor thing, that.  Possible hint of a maybe spark of self-awareness outside the programming.”

“Isn’t that kind of really bad?”

Verona shrugged.  Then she groaned.  “Suuuuuucks.  It was really convenient.”

“I bet.”

“Not that it was working all that great.  But it was nice to have the option.”

“Sorry.”

The Matthew announcement nagged at her.  Verona looked past the trees to the shrine, where Mallory was probably traumatizing Avery’s two cousins, and probably making moves on Kyle, too.

“I probably should go see Matthew as soon as we’re done this thing.  It’s getting to me,” Verona said, rubbing at her hand.

“Sure, yeah,” Avery said.  “Hey, you and Breanne were talking about some dark stuff there, y’know?  And you kinda didn’t say how you were doing, while you were asking them.”

“Hm.  Didn’t I?”

“How are you managing, huh?” Avery asked, quiet.

“Ah, don’t ask that,” Verona replied, leaning hard against a tree, in an awkward sort of slump.  She went from rubbing at her palm to gripping her thumb.  “Kinda sucks that every time I feel like I’m getting some ground, getting something a little me, bit of routine, something’s gotta knock me down.”

When Verona didn’t let go of her thumb, Avery put her hands over hers.  “Hey.  What’s knocking you down?”

“Stuff.  Worries about all this.  Taking care of everything I gotta take care of…”

That risk I’ll be Forsworn if this goes wrong.

“…Thought I had an outlet in Jeremy, but nah, he’d rather date someone he has nothing in common with than be friends with me, where I thought-”

Verona didn’t know how to say it without conveying the wrong ideas.

“I know that hurt.  Olivia and all.”

“Yeah.  I thought we were on the same page.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s like… you know this thing you hear about with drugs?  Where you do a drug and the more you do it, you build up a tolerance?” Verona asked.  “And then eventually it’s like poison and come to regret it, blah blah blah, don’t do drugs, usual school assembly bullcrap?”

“Sure.  Why?”

“Just feels a heck of a lot like anything good in my life, there’s a tolerance, and the longer I have it the less I get to enjoy it, and then it goes bad.”

“Then you’re not doing so hot, huh?”

Verona looked off to the side, then looked up, staring at the branches above them.  She rubbed at her hand.  “Don’t- don’t ask like that, or I’ll cry and it’ll be lame and everything.”

“Won’t.  Not at all.”

“In front of your cousins?  And Mallory?  You?  Nah.  I don’t wanna- I don’t wanna gripe, you know?  Whinge and moan, whatever.”

“It’s fine.  What we’re doing is hard, I took the easy out, I left, I left more on your plates, I should at least do what I can to back you up, right?  Hear you out?  That’s my job, isn’t it?”

“Nah.”

“Isn’t it?” Avery pressed.

“Stop being nice and gentle and shit, okay?  I will cry if you keep it up and I want to look cool in front of your cute cousin.”

“Bre- wait, Kyle?  Wait- wait, that’s bait, that’s a trap, you’re distracting me.”

“Yeah.  Kyle’s cute, Ave.  If you aren’t careful, Mallory’s going to make a move, and if she gets close enough to him he’ll realize those tattoos aren’t fake, and that’s a lot of explaining to do, that karma won’t help with.”

“You’re distracting me,” Avery hissed the words, but she looked back toward Mallory and Kyle.  “I can’t think of Kyle being like that for anyone.  All I think about when I think of him is how he was as a kid, snotty nosed, slack jawed, literally mouth-breathing…”

Verona chuckled.

Avery sighed.

“Let me distract you,” Verona told Avery.

“Let me worry about you, you dingus,” Avery replied.

“Some.  Okay?  So long as you don’t get me crying, and you let me keep some stuff in the back pocket, for a video call or the very very end of this trip.”

“Stuff?”

“That I’m not sharing just yet, because I don’t want to put you off your game.”

“That’s, uh… worrying.”

“Yep.”

“Stuff that’s somehow worse than-”

“Are you losers done yet!?” Mallory shouted over.

“Almost!” Verona shouted back.  “Go away!”

“Can I eat these donut holes!?”

“Shut up and go away!  Yes!” Verona called back.

Mallory made a little whooping sound.

“You’re holding stuff back that’s worse than you maybe having a glamoured up doppleganger that’s becoming self aware and might end up wanting to kill you?”

“Yeah.”

“And the fact you’re… not doing very well?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it the Demesne?  You said everything good was going bad.  I thought the Demesne was a pretty darn good thing.”

“Not exactly, but don’t pry?  Trust me?”

Avery frowned.  “Don’t pry, don’t be too nice… what am I supposed to do, Ronnie?”

“Bring your cute cousin and finish this walk with me so I can go check on Matthew?”

“Okay.”

Edith was there.

Not actually at or in the property.  But close.  Edith sat by a tree with a book in her lap she wasn’t reading, book resting on her thigh, with her leg keeping it open to a page.  When Verona approached, Edith put the book aside and stood up.

“You,” Verona said, trying to inject sufficient venom into her tone and not quite getting there.  She needed a lot of venom, to be fair.

“I’m glad you showed up,” Edith said.

“We’re not cool, Edith.  Don’t be glad at me.”

“You’ll forgive murderers, torturers, and befriend slavers, but you treat me like this because I tried desperately to hang onto the one good thing I had in my life?  When my existence is erosive, and everything is hard to obtain and harder to hold onto, as it erodes and burns?”

“Yeah, I guess so!  I’d quibble on the torturer thing, assuming you’re talking about-”

“Alpeana.  But go ahead.  You can dismiss what she does as just nightmares.”

“Go away, Edith.  Seriously,” Verona said.  She walked around Edith, keeping a good ten feet of distance between them as she did.

“I want to tell you things that can help Matthew.”

Verona shook her head.

“Lis stopped by to let me know.  There are outsiders incoming.  To answer the claim.”

Verona paused.

“Three of them.  One is a Hennigar.  Tell him.  You have a few minutes.  You shouldn’t take longer than five, if you want to be well out of their way before they show up.”

“Okay, I guess.”

“And tell him I won’t contest the claim,” Edith said.

“You didn’t negotiate that in advance?” Verona asked.

“Go tell him.  I won’t.  There’s not much time if you want to stay out of the way of the people from Musser’s group.”

Verona frowned.  She went to the door, knocked, and it came open- it wasn’t even fully latched.

“Come in,” Matthew said.

Verona glanced back at Edith, who sat across the street, then she went inside, closing the door firmly behind her.

Matthew sat in the living room.  Heavy curtains were partially drawn, and the light from outside didn’t come at an angle that really shone through so much as it diffused in, in an ambient way.  It made the room dark.  He had his eyes closed as he sat back in his armchair.

“Heya.”

He kept his eyes closed.  “Hi, Verona.  How much time has passed?”

“Night one is over, it’s the morning of day one.”

“Okay,” he replied.

“Get any contests?”

“The more nocturnal Others came by.  Alpeana, the ghouls, the goblins.  No contests across the board, aside from the small goblins.  Tatty, Cherry, Peckersnot.  They were mostly messing around.”

“Mm.  I should let you know.  Lis told Edith, who told me, three outsiders are coming.  One’s a Hennigar.  To your awareness, it’ll probably be right after me.”

“Okay.  I’ll be prepared.”

“When I say it like that, it sounds like some middle school thing, like, hey Mia said Sharon said Melissa said her cousin said George likes you.”

“It does.”

“Except all murdery and violent, I guess.”

“Yep,” Matthew said, with a slight smile on his face.

“Edith’s camping out outside, you know?  Don’t want to put you off your game, but…”

“Figured,” he replied.  His eyes opened, and they were black from corner to corner.

“You kinda did this like, raising the idea, said you’d talk to Edith and see what she’d ask for, then you jumped ahead and did it.”

“Yeah.”

“Not that this is bad.  This helps.  But… what’s up, guy?” Verona asked, quiet.  “What did she want?”

“Not much.”

“Not going to give me any more than that?”

“She asked me not to rule anything out.  Said she’d let me have the house and I could make this claim, so long as I wasn’t saying I’ll never let her in, as part of the claim.  I figure she’ll come in later, make her challenge.”

“She said she would give you a no-contest.”

Matthew frowned a little.

“Too easy, huh?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, voice soft.

“Wish I knew what to say about that.”

“Had to do it now, I figured.  That was my pitch to Edith.  If the house is going to be what I need it to be, it should be while the Doom is still strong enough.  She wants it to be my demesne.  All the rest of it, I think she thinks it can be fixed later.”

“Deluded.”

“Yep,” Matthew said, raising his eyebrows briefly.  “I thought maybe it could be her playing the long game.  The very long game?”

“How’s that?”

“If she’s finagled it with Charles so she’s immortal?  And prepares something like that for me?  Finding the right Other for me to host, when the Doom is gone?” Matthew asked.  “Forever’s a long time.  Guilherme knows that.  Forever leaves a lot of room for things you’d think are impossible.”

“Creepy.”

“Isn’t it?” Matthew asked.  “Yeah.”

She remembered she had limited time.  “So, uh.  You know who the Hennigars are, right?”

“Some idea.  We had to deal with some of them around the fringes, back before you Awoke.  Mostly they were looking for fights, so Miss could distract them by giving them a hint there was a strong Other in a nearby region.”

“Thought I’d ask.  Give you the skinny on the whole non-dying, Gore-strewn deal.”

“I’ve got the skinny.  Thanks though,” Matthew said.

“Brought you gifts.  To arm you, I dunno if this helps…” Verona said, putting her bag down.  “Spell slips.  I know you can practice while the Doom is out.  I signed them, I think that means you’ll pull some power from me?”

“Convoluted, when some of your power comes from me,” Matthew said.  “But yeah.  That helps.  I remember teaching you diagram work in the backyard of this property.”

“Yep.  I dreamed of that.”

Matthew nodded.

“Also, ninety-five percent sure this works.  Haven’t tried it myself.  Strength potion.  It’ll give you a hangover, you’ll feel weak as a baby, later.  The side effects say that after eating it, your crap will be like gravel or even like, glass chunks.  So drink lots of water and be prepared for a shredded butthole even at the lowest setting.  The more you drink, the worse it’ll be, both the hangover and the butthole thing, but you know, you’ll be stronger.”

“Hmm.”

“But I figure those are tomorrow problems and if you need a solution today…”

“Thanks,” Matthew replied.  He took the eco-friendly bottle.

She gave him finger guns.  “Save the thanks for after, when you’ve won and found out how badly off the old bumhole is.”

“I’ve hung out with goblins on and off for the last decade.  I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Need anything?  We were thinking we’d stop in.  Stagger our visits so you can ask us if you need something, if you’re worried, if you want info…”

“Kennet’s okay?”

“For now,” Verona replied.

“Updates would be nice.  Don’t need much else.  The spell cards help-”

“If you happened to pass the unused ones back to me when you’re done, it’d be cool.”

“Will do.  And thanks for the ol’ bumhole shredding potion.”

“I gotchu, fam,” Verona replied, clicking her tongue.  “Wish we could mess with them when they come to make the claim.  Run interference?  But I think the judges would take issue with that.  Same reason we couldn’t interfere with the Carmine contest.”

“Yeah.  Think so,” Matthew said.

“I should skedaddle.  Get outta here before they show, just in case they decide taking me hostage could be a good way to twist your arm, or whatever.  Hennigars are pretty notoriously violent.”

“Good plan.  Good seeing you, Verona.  I hope, whatever happens, we can keep working together.”

“We’ve both settled in for the long haul, huh?  Demesne neighbors?”

“Yeah.  It’s been good working with you on the Undercity stuff.”

“Same.  You’re a cool guy, Matthew.  I’m going to head out.”

She was just at the front door when Matthew, out of sight, called out, “Did you tell them?”

“Which part?”

“That the demesne claim- if you guys can’t pull off the ritual for Kennet found, we’ll be forsworn?”

“Left that out.  They don’t need it on their plates.  They’re taking it seriously enough.”

“Thanks for letting me know in advance.  You could’ve let it blindside me.”

“Sure thing,” she replied.  She paused.  “No contest.”

The door opened.

“Thanks.”

With brooms, she and Lucy had swept all the gravel on the roof of the Arena off to the sides.

Across the top, Verona put the chalk down.  The trees on either side of the Arena blocked off the view from most of Kennet’s highest points.  Short of anyone hanging out on the ski hill while it was mostly grass, nobody would really have a good view of the magic circle.

This was the best way to get something big enough.

“This is the, uh, original version?”

“Toothpicks and bubble gum,” Verona replied.  It nettled at her.  The practice was something she considered herself good at, and having jokes made about it just felt like too much of a dig at her self esteem.  “I’ll wipe away and fix the parts they tell me to fix.  But it’ll be good to have the bulk of it done.”

“Cool,” Lucy replied.  “Avery sent a text about the seven mundane items.  The twelfth set.”

“I saw that but I was just starting this, wanted to focus on the details here without getting distracted.  Anything special?”

“We’re thinking scissors, photograph, knife.”

The items they’d awoken with.

“I like that,” Verona said.

“Trick will be getting a knife that’s not like the cheese knife in diagram three or the rusty knife in diagram five.”

Verona nodded.  “Knives, so overdone, huh?  So unoriginal.”

“Ha ha.  Leaves us with four more.  And we want them to be the sort of items that you don’t necessarily use or pay attention to, but don’t throw away.  Abandoned things.”

“What about, like, art supplies, where you buy lots of paper, and extra brushes, and paint, and then you keep using the old stuff and it just sits around, waiting to be used?”

“I think that might just be you.”

“Or cheap jewelry?  Bunch of stuff that’s like ‘that’s pretty, I should dress up more’ and then you don’t get a lot of mileage out of it?”

“I think that’s more a Verona thing, again.”

“Or when you get a birthday card and never give it because you forget or it’s awkward with the way things are with your dad, and you tell yourself you’ll give it next year?  For like, three years in a row?”

“That’s you, Ronnie.  I don’t think that’s a common experience.”

“Dang.”

“What about notebooks?  I think everyone has spare notebooks or diaries they abandon.”

“Cool.  Works.  I definitely do.  One cool thing about practice was having an excuse to use ’em.”

“Yeah.  Same.  Let’s put that down.  That’s four out of seven.  Uh-”

Lucy stopped looking at her phone, standing up straight, and looking off into the distance.

“What?” Verona asked.

Lucy was looking in the direction of Matthew’s house.

“What’s up?”

“The nagging feeling for Matthew’s Demesne claim just stopped.”

“Is that bad?  Because I haven’t- the only Demesne claims I’ve dealt with were my own and then I got Matthew’s out of the way earlier.  It stopped nagging me when I gave him the no contest.  Is he- he didn’t lose?”

“No.  I don’t know.  It cuts out when someone else is giving them his answer.  Or when he’s fighting.  But Avery’s not for a bit.  I talked with Toadswallow last night about the other Others in town, and Kennet below.  Nobody from Kennet should be visiting Matthew today.”

“Except enemies.”

“That’s the thing,” Lucy said.  “We’ve had a lot of enemies visiting.”

“I hope he’s okay.”

“So do I…” Lucy murmured.  “But what I really wonder is…”

Her Sight turned on.  The whites of Lucy’s eyes turned red, and the irises and pupils turned white.

“Is Musser making a move?”

“Kind of.  The group from earlier, they haven’t left.”

“We thought that might happen,” Verona said, looking off into the distance.

“The claim means they can come in.  Doesn’t kick them out after.  They’re using it to get past our defenses and the usual barriers to come in as groups, and they’re occupying Kennet after.  But that’s only allowed if someone’s not currently challenging Matthew, so they’re coming in clusters, spaced out.”

“Yeah,” Verona replied.  “Might lead to them gunning for the Lordship, even, if they can get enough people in.  Okay.  This isn’t exactly a shock.”

“We hoped there’d be less of them.  That they’d be distracted,” Lucy said.

“Hope for the best, plan for the worst.  And the plan for the worst is we do our best to mess with them.”

“Let’s get started, before this next batch finishes.  I’ll call Ave.”

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