Wild Abandon – 18.9 | Pale

Avery took a step back as the bus screeched to a halt.

“Think this is safe?” she asked.

Snowdrop, hands in her pockets, shrugged.  She was wearing her headphones around her neck, with the ear-like rims, a loose gray cardigan that hung down to the back of her knees, and a long top that read ‘Junk food’ with a heart and a trash can.

The door hissed as hydraulics opened it, and bright lights shone from inside.  The driver was barely visible past a partial divider, and not directly lit.  Some signs were mounted up high, and a digital display shed a red glow that was more pronounced since it was dark out.

Snowdrop went in first, using the railing to skip a step on her way up.

Avery felt underequipped for this.  No black rope, no charms, no spell cards, no wallet, no house keys, no bag at her back.  Just the various bracelets on her wrist, and a pair of cuffs in her pocket she’d done her best to enchant, with her phone and the key to the cuffs in another pocket.  She glanced around the residential street she was on, lit by streetlights that were too close together, compared to what she was used to from Kennet, then followed Snowdrop.

A dozen people were onboard, eyes averted, listless.  Some chatted with one another.  Avery walked past.

And some were lost in thought until the bus released the brakes, stirring too late.

“Wait!  Don’t let the doors-!”

The doors hissed closed behind Avery.

It was Milly Legendre who had shouted out, rising from her seat.  She recognized Avery.  “Fuck.”

“One of ours?” Basil asked.

Milly shook her head.  “Just the opposite.  That’s Avery Kelly.  Wild practitioner, witch of Kennet, Path runner or something in that area.  Last time I ran into her, we clashed.”

“Doesn’t rule out the possibility she could work with us,” Basil said, with a note of optimism.  “Every group has its infighting.”

Milly sat back down at the very back of the bus, and propped a foot up on the side of one seat in front of her.  Milly tended toward an aesthetic where her clothes were more simple and durable than they were pretty, but some minor efforts had been made there.  She had a cute denim jacket that she’d taken off and now had draped over one knee, and stud earrings.

Men and women sat throughout the bus.  Hot air was pumped out slits by the windows, which meant anyone in heavier clothing had pulled off their heaviest jackets, and the gap between those who were dressed for winter and those who were dressed for summer was reduced.  They looked ordinary.  Ordinary people, sitting and waiting, looking past windows that were dark and hard to see through, because the interior of the bus was dark and the outside was bright, or talking in low voices.

“I’d hope she’d block the door if she was brought here after infighting in her group,” Milly said.

Avery navigated the knees and arms that stuck out into the aisle, people turned in their seats to talk to others nearby.

“If it was as easy as that, we would have been out of here an hour ago.  Nobody seems to think to stop the doors,” Basil said.  He sat a row ahead of her and to the right.  He was slight in build, tousled, almost Milly’s opposite, fashion-wise.  He’d been described to Avery as a gentleman thief.  The binder of the Turtle Queen, among others.  He sat sideways on the bench seat, elbow over the bit of railing that ran over the back of the seat.

The divider that blocked the bus driver from view was now situated so it was behind the driver, only the edge of their arm visible.

Avery took an empty seat.  “I wanted to talk.”

“So you’re not a prisoner, you’re a jailer,” Basil said.

“I think she’s with the Oni that got you,” Milly said.

“Was she?  Huh.  Come to lay out terms, conditions, expectations, for my little stay here?” Basil asked.

“Yes, we want your help, Basil,” Snowdrop told him.

“What sort of help?” he asked.

“The opossum spirit lies,” Milly said, sounding weary of the situation already.  She shifted position and lay across the backmost seat of the bus, one leg bent, her head positioned so she could look over at Avery, or up at Basil.  “Don’t be fooled.”

“Thanks,” Basil said.  “Odd but okay.”

“She says the opposite of what she means,” Avery clarified.  “Milly?  I wanted to ask about the Beorgmann?  It was called a Child-Taker?”

“You’re already aware of the problem, huh?” Milly asked.

“I’ve been asked to take steps to keep you from interfering with it.”

“It’s bound to stay put for the thirty days.  It shouldn’t do anything up until the time’s up.  If I get to it in time, I bind it, it doesn’t hurt anyone else.  If I don’t, then kids get hurt,” Milly said, without moving.  “Answer’s obvious to me.  You gotta let me go.  But then again, you guys take the hard road a lot, don’t you?  You make some asinine calls.”

“We could say the same about you guys.  Not seeing the bigger system you’re adding to,” Avery replied.

“You let Basil’s things go.  Sounds pretty bad.”

“So far they’re being good.”

“The Bugges are corruptive forces by nature,” Basil said.  “It’s like expecting a flooding lake to stay in bounds.  Whatever deals, limits, preparations you made, the water level keeps rising and eventually something leaks through.  I have to agree with Milly.  You have obligations to let us go.  If you don’t, then all that happens is disaster will strike, people will get hurt, and then you’ll be forced to let us go anyway.”

Milly made a grunt that sounded approving or like agreement.  Maybe both.

“Things are getting pretty bad out there,” Avery said.  “What I’ve heard is your dad got hurt, Milly.”

Milly frowned slightly.  “How badly?”

“Badly enough they went to a shaman for spirit surgery and he’s still recovering after.”

“How?”

“I don’t know the full story.  But he, Anthem, Musser, and some others picked a fight and most of them got out of it okay, but your dad didn’t.  They got him clear, took him to get care, split up to reassess, handle personal affairs, do research, that sort of thing.  Regrouping.”

“Huh.  But he’ll be okay?”

“Sounds like.  But it puts us in a pinch.  Your dad isn’t available and I don’t know how long it’ll take.  I’d ask your brothers to see to the Beorgmann situation, but they’re being buttheads.”

“Sounds like them.  But don’t send them.  They can’t take on something that big.  It’d need to be my dad or me.”

“What is it?”

“It’s old, pre-seal, nasty.  It’s been bound for a long time, but when you bind it, you have to encompass all of its realm, which is an expanse as big as some national parklands.  The entire place is littered with cellars, treehouses, and other holding cells for children.  He takes them and keeps them just to have them.  They don’t age, don’t change, Death, Nature, Time, Fate, and War can’t get past the Beorgmann to reach them.”

“Gods,” Basil whispered.  “Heavyweight, sounds like.”

“Yep,” Milly replied, curt, lying on the bench, not breaking eye contact with Avery.

“What type of Other?  What field?” Avery asked.

“Don’t know, doesn’t exactly matter,” Milly replied.  “Basil would be better at explaining this.”

“Would I?” Basil asked.

“Labels, Others, old Others, constraints and confinement.”

“Ah.  Yeah.  Some say that we invent labels and constrain Others by those definitions and ideas tied to the label.  We categorize Fae and then Fae are obliged to act a certain way.  That because these categories exist, when a new Other comes around, they tend to go in a bucket.  Or mostly in a bucket.  Pretty relevant to what I do, because I deal with a lot of Others who are pretty nebulous up until they bucket themselves.”

“And then there’s things like the Beorgmann, who were around a long time before we had good labels,” Milly said.  “Could say it’s a bit Fae because it lures children away, a bit goblin because it’s wretched, a bit bogeyman because it’s scary.  Could say it’s divine, a godling thing that gets worship or feeds off the fact it’s the sole presence in the lives of the trapped children…”

“Pre-label,” Basil mused.  “From a time when goblin, spirit, ghost, and horror were interchangeable.”

“Like Durocher’s things?” Avery asked.  “From the Blue Heron?  She calls out these monsters…”

“Those are pre-label and pre-language.  They take the same idea further back,” Milly replied.

“And you can’t free these children?  You can’t empty the holding areas?  The treehouses and stuff?” Avery asked.  But Milly was already shaking her head before Avery was done asking.  “No?”

“Nah,” Milly replied.

“Because the vibe around the Hungry Choir was that it was here to stay, sometimes someone like Zed would poke around and see what they could do, but when we dug a little deeper, we found the origin, some weak points, passed it to the right people… dealt with it.  Mostly.  Until it was ripped out of Brie by the Carmine Exile.  But we did it.”

“If we could have removed the Beorgmann, we would have.  It’s an interesting conundrum to throw at the Blue Heron once every semester or two.  Or it was.  A theoretical exercise.  How would you handle that, what if, what would suffice, and so on.  What I really wanted was to make one of those things a big project.  Take some of the things that were talked about in those theoretical exercises and explore them, run ideas down, talk to contacts using Blue Heron connections… it would have been nice,” Milly said.  “But here I am.”

“So you just bind it in the meantime?”

“Wards, seals, deterrents.  Cordon off the area, make regular stops.  If we could remove the Beorgmann, we’d free up a lot of time and resources.  But it’s not even on the shortlist.  There’s a lot out there we’re managing, and in there, there’s others that would be easier.  Removals we could achieve, that would free up resources.  Not as old, not as firmly established.”

But you waste energy on goblins.

“Pretty badass though,” Basil said.  “Dealing with the Choir?”

“They played a part, the Blue Heron seniors and head staff handled it,” Milly said.

“Still,” Basil said.  “Badass.  Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Milly replied.

Avery thought about what angle to approach things from.  What she needed to know.

There was a distant thump, and the bus screeched to a stop.  The doors hissed open.

Milly stood.  But so did many of the passengers.  Avery sat down, leaning back into the bench seat to be out of the way, and to try to peer past the crowd.

“Out of the way.  Move!” she shouted.  “Gods, you’re idiots!”

“Fuck you,” one guy snarled, turning her way.

“Is this normal bus stuff, or is it because the bus cut through the wrong territory and a Lord got involved?” Avery asked.

“What are you talking about?” the snarly guy asked.

“It’s the second one,” Snowdrop said.

“How do you know?” Avery asked.

Snowdrop tapped her nose.

Avery reached through the familiar bond and drew on Snowdrop’s additional senses.  She inhaled- and got a whiff of a whole lot of unwashed people and general ass-and-bus smells.  She wrinkled her nose.

But she could also smell something that was like… like the smells that came out after a heavy rain in the city.  But not quite.  Something else.

“Tears?  Sadness?  But also rain… Oh.”

“You’re on the wrong track,” Snowdrop said.

“Ruins practice.  Gotcha,” Avery said.  “And the practice Odis uses smells like that?”

“No.  Not Odis,” Snowdrop replied.

There was a commotion at the front.  “We’ll get you to a hospital, it’ll take too long to get an ambulance.  Here, it’s on the way, don’t move, don’t-”

“I’m fine!  I’m fine, fuck off!  Just… take me home, I guess.”  The voice went from a bellow to something more annoyed.  “It’s warm in here, at least.  Fucking idiots.  Watch where you’re driving.”

It looked like the bus had hit someone, and the people that had helped him out hadn’t gotten onto the bus.

The doors hissed closed.  People settled.

“Fuck me,” Milly swore.  She sat back down with a thud, looking tense.

“One of ours?” Basil asked.  He hadn’t gotten up.

“No,” Milly said.  “That’s happened a few times now.”

“The crash?” Avery asked.

“No.  Just… people getting on.  Or transferring buses.  But if you sit up front, there’s more assholes who give you a hard time or get creepy,” Milly said.  “But if we’re back here, it’s hard to get out when there’s a chance.  Lose-lose.”

“They’re criminals,” Basil said.  “I know the types.  A lot of them have been in jail.  See?  How that one’s sitting?  Guarded.  Him too.  Her.  That’s learned in an environment like jail.  Or places enough like jail you don’t come out of them without some disrespect for law and institutions.”

“Aren’t you one?” Milly asked.

“Sure.  Of a different brand,” Basil said.  “See that older woman?  She’s not letting anyone near her bag.  She gets a look in her eyes like she’d murder someone who so much as touched it.  It only happens once in a while, but you see it once or twice, you realize she’s not okay, she’s more dangerous than the guy with tattoos.  That’s about half of the people here.  Most criminals, you’d never know.  But there’s enough obvious ones here, you can guess for the rest.”

“Hey, Avery,” Milly said, leaning forward, forearms on knees.  “If you don’t let me free to handle that Other, you should never, ever, ever claim the moral high ground again.”

“Didn’t you let it free in the first place?”

“Let me go so I can handle it.  There’s a thirty day window-”

The guy who’d gotten onto the bus got up from a seat near the front, moving back.  Milly stopped as he approached.

“They’re pretty aggressive up there.  Where the fuck is this bus going?”

“Many places and nowhere at the same time,” Basil said, a slight smile on his face.

“No shit.  That’s fucking poetic,” the guy said.  He had a slight head injury that seemed to make him unsteady on his feet, and sat down two rows ahead of Basil.  He looked like a mechanic or plumber, with coveralls, and light stubble on ruddy cheeks.  He was young, but had a liver spot on his forehead.  “Stanley, but my friends call me Lee.”

“Basil Winters.  This is Milly, that’s Avery, we’re ambivalent about her.  And that’s her partner, the opossum.”

“Snowdrop,” Avery clarified.

“The opossum.  Hell of a nickname,” Stanley said.

“It has no basis in fact,” Snowdrop replied.

“So.  What are we talking about?” Stanley asked.  “Loop me in.”

“You’re not ‘in’, Stanley,” Milly said.  “If you’d excuse us?”

“You can call me Lee, I said.  We’ve introduced ourselves.  We’re friends.  You’ve got to be nicer than that group up front.  I just got hit by a bus.  Give a guy some sympathy and company, so he doesn’t pass out from a concussion and die alone.”

“You-” Milly started.

“Morals,” Basil interrupted.  “We’re talking about morals, moral high ground, criminal behavior, responsibility.”

“Heck,” Stanley said, sitting back.  “Don’t even get me started.  I love true crime.”

“Let’s say Milly here let a criminal go.  A real nasty one,” Basil said.

“This is a waste of time,” Milly cut in.

“Nasty how?” Lee asked, leaning over the railing that ran over the back of his seat, his head and elbow jutting into Basil’s space.

“Kid stuff.  Not to do anything, but just to keep,” Basil said.  “A lot of them, over the years.  Reprehensible.”

“As bad as they come.  I got you,” Stanley said.  “Why let him go?  Or her?”

“Milly acquired a property, some unfriendly neighbors came in, wanting to oust her.”

“Leaving out a lot about the really sketchy nature of that ownership,” Avery pointed out.

“Fair and square ownership.  Just because you didn’t like it…” Milly started.

“Loop me in?” Stanley asked.

“A massive group claimed the property over a wide, wide area, to get control over that area,” Avery said.  “And then handed her the keys to the place and asked her to look after things.”

“Protecting the area,” Milly said.

“Okay, think I get it,” Stanley said, looking between them.

It wasn’t like they really cared about Stanley’s take, and Avery wanted him to go away as much as Milly did, but Basil jumped right in, “Things got heated, and she decided to let a real creepazoid out to deal with them, thinking she could get him under lock and key again later.”

It felt like Basil was a little bit quicker on his conversational feet than Avery was.  Which made this frustrating.  She added in, “Didn’t help.  The creepazoid is out there, Milly’s here…”

“I was attacked, kidnapped, and coerced, then brought here,” Milly said, testy.

“And he’s out there, ready to kidnap kids at the next chance he gets, right?” Avery asked.

“Yeah,” Milly replied.  “You’ve got to let me go.”

“Us, ideally,” Basil commented.

“Why does she get a say?” Stanley asked, looking incredulous.

“Where do you think we are?” Milly asked.

“A… bus?  With a damn-near homicidal driver?”

Avery sniffed.  “You were on another bus before this.”

“Yeah.  And?  I got out, started to walk, got hit.  Got carried in by people who should know better than to move someone injured.  It wasn’t a hard knock though.”

“Try to leave,” Milly told him.

Stanley frowned.  He looked at Basil, who nodded.

“And just get dropped off in the middle of nowhere?”

“You can change your mind.  But you won’t.  Because you won’t get that far,” Milly said.

Stanley stood, and wobbled a bit before making his way toward the front of the bus.

“You have contacts?” Avery asked.  “What happens in a world where you and your dad die?  With stuff as serious as what you do, you should have preparations in place.”

“It’s not all that straightforward.  I don’t have the contact information here, they’d need to know things to go in with their eyes open, and there’s no guarantee they’ll find out in time.  It’s easier, safer, faster, and better if you let me go.  Anything else is reckless and wrong.”

“It’s wrong to not give me their contact information.  You let it go in the first place.  If there are other Sealers or whatever, I’ll reach out to them-”

“And they’d optimally need my notes, they’d need access to our family secrets-”

“I don’t get it,” Avery said.

“Clearly.”

“You do all this important stuff, okay, but then you get wrapped up in Musser’s thing?  You put everything at risk by being foot soldiers.”

“You want us to be neutral?  To stand down, never get involved, serve whichever Lords or masters take over?”

“If what you’re doing is this important… maybe?” Avery asked.

“Some do.  You’re right, that’s definitely a stance,” Milly said, still sitting with forearms on knees, looking very tired.  “But then we all watch as we fall behind.  The people in power wonder why they invest in us while everything’s going right, and they wonder why they invest in us when everything goes wrong.  At least this way, Musser’s recognizing my dad, giving my dad and my family the chance to rise with him.  That means more resources, maybe one day having the chance to be front and center, more resources and more people willing to work with us to solve problems instead of locking them away.”

Stanley returned, looking agitated.  He looked up, spotted the hatch in the ceiling for emergency exits, and stepped onto Avery’s seat to get enough height to reach up.

“What the fuck?” he asked.  “There’s no handle. It won’t budge.”

“Yep,” Milly said.

He stepped down, went to the nearest window by an unoccupied seat, and tried to open it.  Unsuccessfully.  Then he hit the glass.

“Calm the fuck down!” someone shouted from near the front.

“Is this a secret prison bus?” Stanley asked.

“Partway there,” Basil replied.

Stanley looked confused.  “Huh?”

“Let me ask you,” Basil said.  “How did you get on the last bus?”

“I-”  He sat down heavily.  “I just got hit by this bus, I might’ve taken a knock to the head, I’m confused.  Sorry.  Memories aren’t lining up right.”

“Take your time,” Basil said, voice gentle.  “First thought that comes to mind?  How did you get on that last bus?”

“I- I got hit by a bus.  And then I rode it for… for a while.  And I got off, and got hit by another?”

“Our jailer must not like you much.  A lot of these guys, they just got on while trying to leave town,” Basil said.

“What are you talking about?  This is-”

“It’s not a bus you usually get off of,” Milly said.  “Not alive.  So if you’ll excuse us, can you go have your existential crisis somewhere near the middle of the bus, and let us talk?”

“I- you said she knows something?  She can get you out?” Stanley asked, looking Avery right in the eyes.

“Maybe,” Avery said.  “It’s complicated.”

“The opossum.  The opossum, it dies but doesn’t die, it’s… this is…”

“What I’m pretty sure you’re thinking,” Snowdrop said.

“Purgatory,” Stanley said, at the same time Snowdrop said, “Hell.”

Avery watched as he went from looking at them to a hundred-yard stare, to a thousand-yard stare, to an empty look in his eyes.

“No,” he said, quiet.

“You’re seriously not going to fuck off?” Milly asked.

“I- what do I do?”

“You could start by attacking the girl and the opossum, to help secure us a way out,” Basil said.

Stanley didn’t budge, but he did refocus, gaze on Avery.  Like he was thinking about it.

“Not funny,” Avery said.

“It’s been a dreary evening, I’m tired,” Basil said, shrugging.  He looked over to Stanley.  “Lee?  Don’t.  I don’t think it’ll get you anywhere.”

“What did you do?” Avery asked him.  Then as he opened his mouth, added, “Don’t lie.”

“Who says I did anything?”

“Be honest,” Basil advised him.

“What if being honest is like confessing to a crime, before you get a lawyer?  Isn’t this like talking to the police?”

Avery glanced at Basil.

“I watch true crime, like I said,” Stanley told them.

“You study it,” Basil said.  “You’re already on the bus, Lee.  Minutes ago, I’m pretty sure you got transferred from a secondary line to the central line.  Think about the implications of that.”

“Oh god.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s nothing pretty waiting at the end of the route.  I think your best bet is being honest, getting sympathy.”

“What did- I get what she did.  Letting a monster go free.”

“That’s not it,” Avery said, quiet.

Milly shot her a look of raw resentment.

“Mass murder of a minority group,” Avery said.

“If you knew the true numbers that they had at their disposal, you wouldn’t call them a minority.”

“That’s uh, not a very good argument,” Avery told Milly.

“They’re a scourge.  A danger.  If you’d seen what I’ve seen, you wouldn’t think twice about what I do.”

“I’m starting to feel a lot better about what I did,” Stanley said.  “You sure are digging your own grave there, miss.”

“Shut up,” Avery told him.

“There’s a distinction to be made,” Basil said.  “The Legendres got their start in an area where the… population we’re talking about was far worse.  There’s a middle ground, I think.  Because she’s not totally wrong, if you’d seen what she likely saw out east, you might understand where she was coming from, at least.  But she’s at fault too, for not adapting or recognizing that one select, minor group, that’s been almost cultivated to be as raw and vicious as they are, it doesn’t apply to all of them.”

“It applies to enough of them,” Milly said.

“I don’t think you’re going to get compromise here, Basil,” Avery said.  “Because on the one hand, she’s like that.  And on the other… enh?  Mass murder?”

“Mass murder is right up there with arson in my books,” Snowdrop said.

“What is she?” Stanley whispered to Basil.

“There’s no middle ground,” Avery said.  “Can we change the subject?”

“Can this guy go away so we can talk without euphemisms and vagueness?” Milly asked.

“I want to say my piece.  If there’s a chance I can get mercy or help or… onto a less bad bus line, I want it,” Stanley said.  “I’ll confess.”

“Confess,” Basil said.

“Then go away,” Milly added.

“It’s not as bad as mass murder.  I got a woman deported.  My neighbor.  Did it on purpose, through a friend, so I could manage the timing and outcome.”

Avery exhaled through her teeth.  “That’s not super great, Stanley.”

“Lee.  You can call me-”

“I’m not your friend, Lee,” Avery told him.  “Was this in Canada?”

“America.  Minneapolis.  Why?  Are we-”

“She got on in Canada,” Basil said.  “The bus lines extend across the border.”

“But that’s not the whole truth.  What’s the whole truth, Stanley?” Basil asked.

“The whole-”  Stanley interrupted himself as he saw the look on Basil’s face.

“Why did you need to manage the outcome?”

“They went to get the kids.  But she’s my neighbor, I know the routine.  I watched.  I got them while they were on their way home.  Teenager and a twelve year old.  No traces, nobody’s going to put that much effort in for the family members of some deportee.  They’ll think they ran to stay in the country.”

“Kids?” Avery asked, her skin crawling.  “Taken from their mom?”

“I’m not a creep.  That’s- they think everything’s normal.  I took them to a building that used to belong to my dad.  Little squat thing off a gravel road, three rooms, bathroom, shower, carpet and old office furniture.  They think they’re being held by immigration, and I’m their caseworker.  I’m not a creep.  Not like the guy that woman let loose.”

He pointed at Milly.

“Point at me again and I’ll break the finger in question,” Milly muttered.

“Taking kids is pretty darn creepy,” Avery said.

“I wasn’t going to do anything to them.  Just… keep them in custody indefinitely.  When one turned seventeen, I could tell them I could save them from being deported and lost by the system like their mom.  By marrying ’em.  Whichever one turned out better.”

Avery was speechless at first.  “That’s pretty creepy.”

“But it’s not a creep thing, it’s just a- a- it’s a thing.”

“Okay, you’re a monster, and I don’t say that lightly,” Milly said.  “Will you please go fuck off now?”

“Can I get off the bus?  Can I get out?  I was honest.”

He sounded panicked.

“Fuck,” Avery whispered.  “Are they still there now?  Are they locked in?”

“Who?” he asked.

“The girls.  That you kidnapped and locked up.”

“I guess.  Yeah.”

“Where?”

“Can I get off the bus?”

“Tell me where they are, and I’ll ask the guy in charge,” Avery replied.

He gave the address.  South of Cadott, a village of about a thousand, five hundred people, which itself was east of the city.  Avery took down the address on her phone.

“Can I make a call?” he asked.  He lurched out of his seat, reaching, and Avery leaned back putting a foot out and against his gut.

He stood there, leaning over her, and reached out for the phone.  His hand touched it.

She glanced, looked, then turned it toward him.  “No signal.”

He pulled his hand away, and the phone buzzed slightly.

“It just came back.  It’s-”

He touched it again, then pulled his hand away.  He stepped back and sat down, looking as shell shocked as before.

“I’ll ask the guy in charge,” Avery said.  “Will you please go away now, Stanley?  That’s all you get.”

He went away, a few rows down, sitting with that shell-shocked expression.  He kept looking back at them, briefly, like he was trying to think of a way through, only to lapse back into that numbed, shocked state of being.

“I don’t think you and Stanley are that different,” Avery told Milly.

“Don’t even begin to try to claim the moral high ground if you aren’t going to let me free to stop the Beorgmann.”

“Would you swear oaths?  To return after you’ve secured it?”

“Where does that get us?  If my dad’s hurt, there are Others he’s not keeping sealed.  Ones who he doesn’t want me interacting with, just as much as I don’t want my little brothers going to the Beorgmann.  If I’m coming back, then I’m ignoring other stuff.  I have responsibilities.”

Avery sighed.  Snowdrop patted her on the back.

“You don’t like it?  Sucks, but that’s the stakes.  Let me go,” Milly said.  “I gave it thirty days.  Let’s keep it to twenty-nine.”

“Stanley over there didn’t get it,” Avery said.  “And you don’t either.”

Milly frowned.

“Is that how they’re the same?” Basil asked, voice pitched in a way that seemed to be trying to gently thread a needle, where he wouldn’t antagonize Milly.  It looked like it annoyed Milly instead.  Maybe annoyance was better than anger.

“I think you’re similar too.”

“How?  What are we missing?” Basil asked.

“Have you slept?” Avery asked.  “Because you guys look tired.”

“Not really,” Milly answered.  “Wanted to keep my eyes open for opportunities to get out.  Clues.  Sleep doesn’t get me much.”

“I half-dozed,” Basil added.  Warier, he asked, “Why?”

“Because… it’s been closer to two weeks than-”

“Than a couple of hours?” Basil asked.

Avery nodded.

“Oh,” Basil breathed the word.  He looked at Milly, then at the bus.  “Oh.  Shit.”

“Two weeks?” Milly asked.

Avery nodded.  “Week and a half, I guess?  Getting toward two weeks now.”

“Then what?  Then…” Milly looked bewildered.  She sat back. “What did I miss?”

“The Lordships were seized.  Taken.”

“Which ones?”

“All,” Avery said.  “Just about, I think.  I think Musser retook one or two.  But it hurt.  Your dad.  People are agitated.  Eliana Graubard is working with him, but her patience will wear thin.  Powerful people who have families to run want to run their families.”

“That doesn’t make sense to me,” Milly said.  “The- the second half does but I don’t understand how you got to the first.”

“The Carmine Exile.”

“Forswearance?  Gainsaying?” Milly asked.  “Because we were taking steps, maneuvering, we made sure…”

“No.  He used other powers.  Crafted Others.  Strong ones.”

Milly reached forward, gripping the rail above one of the seats, not far from Avery.  “Musser’s strong.  Our alliance is powerful.”

“Seems like they’re stronger.  Or more powerful,” Avery replied.  “There’s two or three that I think consider the Beorgmann a peer.  Musser is regrouping.  America Tedd, Liberty Tedd, and Anthem Tedd are stuck in Kennet.  So are your brothers.  It’s too dangerous to leave, with how bad things are out in the wilderness outside the city.  Seventy practitioners came to Kennet.  Last I heard, there’s fifteen who are free, and they’re leaderless.  Musser left and hasn’t been in touch.”

Milly shook her head.  “You beat Anthem?  And Musser was there and…?”

“Left.  The loss of all his Lordships distracted him a bit.  He said he’d come back in three days.  Abandoned people, left them behind, took only key leadership with him.  Your dad included.  You missed a lot, Milly.”

“I don’t believe you,” Milly said.  She looked at Basil, then back at Avery.  “No.  That doesn’t line up.  I’d sooner believe you found a way to use your lying opossum to cheat the rule of discourse.  Or the bus cuts you off from the Seal.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anything like that.  Even with a practitioner that had an Oni familiar that could lie once on a full moon, if they gave advance warning,” Basil said.

“I don’t believe it,” Milly said, shaking her head.

“Well, one of the Lords that took over your territory or one close to it asked me to do this,” Avery said.

Avery pulled the enchanted cuffs out of her pocket, and slapped them against Milly’s wrist.  They were regular handcuffs, but had taken on a tarnished gold appearance in the enchantment effect.

She’d practiced on Snowdrop earlier to get the movement right.  Now Snowdrop helped by grabbing Milly’s arm.  So Avery could snap the other end of the cuff closed around the rail of the bus seat.

“What the fuck?” Milly asked.  She pulled back on the cuff, and it jerked taut.

“They said if I don’t take steps to ensure you aren’t getting out, they’ll make passage harder.  That impacts me, my family, my friends.”

“Don’t do this,” Milly said, more insistent than pleading.  “Don’t.”

“I’m not happy about this,” Avery told her.  “But you’re dangerous, and you don’t even understand why.”

“Is this the fucking goblin thing?  You’d condemn me to this?  What?  Wasting away on this bus?  You’re that evil, you’d throw away my life to support them?”

Avery stood, with Snowdrop climbing out of the seat behind her.

“Don’t!” Milly said, raising her voice, still insistent, like she could will Avery not to.  She pulled back on the cuffs, dragging them left and right along the bar.  It was bolted into the bus wall and welded into the chair.  “Don’t leave!”

“Avery,” Basil said, calmer.  “Can we deal?”

“What sort?” Avery asked.  “I- I want to find a way to deal with the Beorgmann, but I can’t let Milly go in good conscience.”

“Conscience!?  Your side mind controlled us!  You had a parasitic Other possess us and use us!” Milly raised her voice.

Heads around the bus were turning.

“I didn’t.  I didn’t want it.  I don’t agree with it, but I don’t control the Others on my side.  I can only make arguments and try to get them to be better.  Or take action if they cross lines.”

“Truce?” Basil asked.  “We stand down from the ongoing conflict, until key representatives from your side and Musser’s agree we can join back in.  Leave that in in case you and Musser want to deal with a mutual threat.”

“There’s a lot more to this than that, Basil.”

“An oath.  Milly can agree to leave goblins be until such a time as you and she have a sit down and work on a release.  You agree to meet her in good faith.  The deal is void if either of you die by no fault of the other.”

“It’s the family business, Basil,” Milly told him.  “Would you give up on your scrawlings and fancies for the indefinite future?”

“If it gets me off this bus?  Yeah,” he replied.

Milly slumped back.  The cuff clinked as she dropped her hand and the short chain didn’t let her drop it into her lap.

“I’ll swear it,” Milly said.  “Does that get you to back down?  I swear I’ll leave goblins alone, unless one is directly and immediately seeking to harm me, someone immediately present, or something important.”

“No cheating,” Avery said.

“I won’t contrive to make those situations happen.  I’ll meet you in six months, I’ll hear you out, say my piece, and then we can go our separate ways.  Maybe I change my mind, maybe you do, maybe there’s a middle ground like Basil says.”

“When you go your separate way, if you’re not agreeing to leave goblins alone, you gotta maintain the truce and rules for one month after.  No killing my goblin friends on the way out,” Avery said.

“You have goblin friends?” Milly asked.

Basil kicked her shin.

“Fine,” Milly said.  “I, Milly Legendre, Knight of Seals, exterminator-”

“Cool,” Snowdrop said, while Avery frowned.

“Right.  I, Milly Legendre, Knight of Seals, Blue Heron graduate, agree to abide by this truce and this deal.”

Avery hesitated.

“I’m giving you that with no expectation, only hope you’ll hear me out, and negotiate further.  I want off this damn bus,” Milly told Avery.

Avery looked at Snowdrop, who nodded.

“No deal,” Avery said.  “The danger to people I love is too major.  It’s your people who put me in this awkward, awful position.  If it was just me, and they were innocent, it would be fine.  But it’s not.”

“What?” Milly asked.

“No.  The pay phone Other asked me to secure your confinement.  That shouldn’t be breakable with anything on this bus, I don’t think you can practice, so… that should do it.”  Avery held up the key, then pocketed it.  “Basil, they didn’t say anything about you, so I won’t shackle you or anything.”

“Bit more comfortable without the cuff.  Thank you,” he said.  “I do wish you’d reconsider.”

Avery shook her head.

“Too bad.”

“Fuck you!” Milly raised her voice.

“Good seeing you, you were cool,” Snowdrop said.

Avery put her hand on Snowdrop’s shoulder.  Snowdrop put her hand on Avery’s arm, fingers near the bracelets and ribbon.

People were looking at her, and legs and elbows stuck out here and there, forcing Avery to stop.  They wouldn’t let her pass like this.

“Don’t!” Milly shouted.  There was a shrill note in her voice, now.  She jerked on the cuff.

Avery focused on the familiar bond, drawing on Snowdrop’s lost-ness.  A bit of a disconnect from rules, a bit of additional freedom, a few idiosyncracies and issues.  It freed her to move through the crowd and escape the ‘trap’ part of Odis’ trap.

But it had its drawbacks.  Drawing on that part of Snowdrop this heavily, it meant Avery could only hold onto so many things.  It limited the number of objects she could manage and hold, and she kept hold of clothes, phone, and the various bracelets on her left arm.

There was a reason she’d traveled light.

“You utter asshole!” Milly shouted.  “There’s something wrong with you!”

“Odis said I could leave when I needed to.  Are we close to my home?” Avery asked the bus driver, past the partition.

The bus came to a halt.  The door hissed as it opened.  Avery and Snowdrop took the stairs, going down to the street, where Odis sat at a bus stop.

He still creeped her out.  She hated it, that this prejudice and paranoia was worked into her, to the point it affected her attachment to her own grandfather.  But Odis was creepy and seeing the people he dealt with… how he dealt with them?  That was creepier.

“Done with our guests?” Odis asked.

“Yeah,” Avery said.  It was cold out.  Snowdrop naturally gravitated toward her, sharing body heat.  Avery put her hands in her pockets, which just had the phone.  “I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine.”

“I told one of your new captives that I’d ask on his behalf.  The guy, deported one woman, kidnapped her kids, thinking people wouldn’t care?”

Odis nodded.

“Will you let him go?”

“No,” Odis said.  “Left alone, he would’ve faced no punishment.  That’s one of my qualifiers.  It makes my quarry special.  Most are the ones who would have gotten away free and clear with their crimes.  I used to be a gangster, if you remember.”

“I do.”

“The people I used to do business with, they wouldn’t brook that.  I wouldn’t and don’t either.”

“And the girls?  A twelve and sixteen year old?  How long ago was all that?”

“A week.”

“Are they okay?”

“I can only assume.”

Avery thought about saying something about that, yelling at the old man for not following up.  It wasn’t enough to punish the bad guys if he wasn’t helping the people who needed help.  If anything, that second part was way more important.

But she wanted to be away from Odis.  “Okay.  I’ll handle that, then?”

“If you want.”

She nodded.

She could only hope.

“The goat situation is tomorrow.  Will you be there?”

“That’s the plan.”

“We’re sending Thea.”

“Right,” Avery said.  “Figured.  Will that be okay?”

“I certainly hope so,” the old man said, hunched over his cane, smiling.

Avery shivered.

“My stuff?”

He pointed with the cane to the bench behind him.  “I left it alone, only guarding it.”

“Thank you,” she said.  She got her bag, the black rope, spell cards, and other things together.  Then she left him, taking Snowdrop’s hand in hers for the warmth.

Her pockets were empty.  The deal she’d made with the pay phone Other was that she’d secure Milly’s confinement.  She had.  They’d also said that if Milly got free, it would count against Avery.

She could only hope that by swearing up and down, left and right that she hadn’t freed Milly, she’d done her part.  She’d become Lost, drawing on the familiar bond, and in the doing, she’d lowered the inventory of things she could carry to six or so- four bracelets, her phone, and her clothes, which were tied to her Self.

The key left behind in the bus.

That in itself wouldn’t free Milly, but with the cuffs undone, an enchanted key and enchanted, hardened cuffs could be repurposed.  Probably to break through the window.

Odis had implied he was okay if they escaped.

She hoped they’d found the key, and that they understood what she’d done and why.

She moved to the nearest peaked rooftop, bringing Snowdrop with.

While there, she dialed.

“Hello?  Peter Garrick.  Finder, friend of founder, ferrier.  Avery Kelly and opossum I assume?”

“Just Avery.  Who else would be calling from this number?”

“Your mother or father.  They expressed some worry that you might fail to come home one night, or if you had an ailment that was more magical than physical, they wondered who they could contact.”

“The Kennet Council.  Louise Bayer.”

“Is one possibility.  But your founder Miss aside, they don’t know your practice.  We do.  I gave them my contact information, anyway.  I could imagine them using your phone, in a specific situation.  I hope that wasn’t overstepping.”

“No,” Avery said.  Even though she did feel like it was a slight boundary crossed.  She wasn’t sure if that was because he hadn’t asked or if it was because every intersection of her real life and her practice felt weird.  “It’s fine, I think.  Sorry to call so late.”

“Not at all.  I’m up with a mug of cider, my wife and teenage daughter sleeping on the couches next to me.  It’s a nice evening, but I’ll have to wake them in a few minutes so they can go to bed.  What can I do for you?”

Avery outlined the situation with that Stanley guy.  The two girls.

“Send me the address?”

Avery copy-pasted it and sent it by text.

“Got it.  Okay.  A week, huh?”

“About.”

“I hope they have water.  Okay.  Getting up now-”

Avery could hear the groaning protest of a girl or woman.

“-I’ll find someone to head over there.”

“Is this okay?” Avery asked.  “I didn’t know who exactly to call, I thought about calling authorities, but that gets weird, and I don’t know if they’d be deported, or if there’s a way to help the mom…”

“It will be handled.  We’ll find a happy way forward.  We’re happy to help you, happy to help those girls.  Count this as a freebie.  I’m grateful you called me.”

She’d called Peter instead of Jude’s immediate family.

It sounded like he was zipping up a jacket.

“I didn’t want to cause any inter-family friction or any of that,” she told him.  “Didn’t really realize I was until there was that issue.  I was only calling Jude and his family because Jude’s the first Garrick I met, I knew him, known quantity.”

“Alright.  It’s fine,” Peter Garrick replied.  “I’ll see to this.  Can I call you in the morning?”

“Uhhh, yeah.”

Then, with Snowdrop, she black-roped across Thunder Bay, toward home.  To the school, up to the roof, where Avery looked down at the empty, dark field, and then down to the fence-top, before she went down to the ground, hopping the full distance, feeling the ground give in a way that absorbed the impact.  A bit of a ripple.

Then home.  She moved across rooftops, careful not to make too much noise, and then black-roped her way to the patio.

This didn’t feel great.  Leaving a man, even a monster of a man, on that bus.  Not being sure about Milly.  Not being sure about Milly and Basil.

“It’s getting colder out.  Want to come in?” she asked Snowdrop.

“I don’t, but…”

“But?”

“There’s no goblins around.  It’s the Legendre influence.  I’ve gotta go find ’em, they know me, I’ve got an established reputation to uphold.”

There’s more goblins around with the Legendres out, you know where, you want to introduce yourself to them, establish a rep.

Avery nodded.  “Get enough sleep to stay sharp for tomorrow?”

“Nah.”

“I’ll try to bring you snacks in the morning.”

“You don’t have to,” Snowdrop said.  “I won’t mind if it’s too inconvenient to.”

Avery smiled.  She mussed up her friend’s hair.

Then she let herself inside.

The lights were dim.  Rowan was asleep, since he had to be up at five forty-five in the morning to be at his work on time to help open, and her mom was up, in the kitchen, with a late night coffee.

“Sorry,” Avery said, quiet.  “I didn’t know if I’d be waking you up if I called.”

“Don’t you have practice in the morning?”

“Short.  I can borrow awake-ness from Snow if I gotta.  She likes dozing.  It was important.”

“Seems like it always is.  I’ve got to stop in at the office tomorrow to get caught up, so I need to sleep.  I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Intact,” Avery replied, shrugging.

Her mom dumped her coffee, circled around the dining room table, and approached Avery, putting her hands on the sides of Avery’s head, before giving her a series of kisses on the top of her head.

“Enh?”

“I adore you.  I adore you.  I stress because I adore you.”

“Thank you for caring.  It’s weird, coming in after doing witch stuff and you’re like… part of it, vaguely.”

“Only vaguely for tonight.  I’m passing the baton to your dad.  He wants a status update.”

“Really?”

“We talked, and this is a lot, and instead of me tackling it all the time, we thought it would be good if you were in touch with your dad as well, and he and I can talk and put our heads together for the tough stuff.  Can you call him?”

“It’s late though.”

“Call him,” Avery’s mom said, giving Avery another kiss on the head.  “And then get to bed.”

Avery nodded.

“This isn’t me running away from this.  This is me giving your dad a turn.  When it’s my turn I’ll talk to him, when it’s his he’ll talk to me, and if you ever, ever need to talk with either of us, outside of one turn or another, please do.”

“For sure.”

Avery got her phone out and called her dad, getting water while the phone rang.  While her mom got sorted.

It felt like it was her mom running away from this.

“Hey honey.  Been waiting for that call.  You were out late.  Your mom fussed.”

“How are things over there?” Avery asked, letting herself out onto the patio.

“Oh, they’re okay.  Grumble had a sore spot and didn’t notice until it got infected.  We spent an hour waiting for a doctor.  I brought eclairs from that one bakery your mom likes to Jasmine’s nurse’s station.  That’s my good deed for the week.”

“You do a lot of good things,” Avery told him.

“I guess.  I hope so.  What about you?  What were you doing that had you out so late?”

“I dunno what to say.  It’s late, it’s a lot to cover.  There’s context.  What do you want to know?  How I’m feeling?  Do you want to understand what I’m doing?  Do you want a play by play battle report?”

“Maybe we change it up now and then?” he asked.  “Right now?  I’d be interested in a battle report.”

“Really?”

“Sure.  Your mom was fretting.  It’s infectious.  I fretted.  Grumble even asked what was going on as I put him to bed.  I’d like to know what you’re getting into.”

“Battle report then, hmmmm.”

“Physical status?”

“Check.  Free and clear.  Bit tired.  Practice tomorrow.  But I was telling Mom, I can use my familiar to fix that some.”

“Right.  Hm… mental status?”

Avery sighed.

“Oh, I heard that.  That doesn’t sound like a one hundred percent on that test.”

“I’m wondering if I’m doing the right thing sometimes.”

“Okay.  Talk me through it.”

“You remember Odis from my notes?”

“Remind me.  The long and weird names blend in together, as much as I try.”

“Odis Saulsbury.”

“Contract guy or ghost bus?”

“The bus.  More like the gingerbread house that Hansel and Gretel were lured to.  Nice and warm, lose track of time.”

“Okay.”

“And he’s catching criminals who wouldn’t be caught otherwise.  And… draining them into nonexistence.  Or into shells he can use as servants.  It’s not super clear.”

There was a pause as her dad took that in.

“Okay,” he said.

“And tonight there was a guy.  He got on the bus.  Deported a neighbor, took her kids in the mess that followed, thinking nobody with any real power would try to track them down.  Would’ve gotten away with it.  Would’ve married one of the kids when they came of age.  Just… weird.”

“Uh huh,” her dad said.  “This was magic?”

“This was everyday horribleness.  No magic, I don’t think.  Just an awful, weird man.  And I guess, I just wonder… I didn’t try very hard to get him off the bus.  But if I don’t, that’s kind of a death sentence.  And then, is that okay?  Me basically accepting that?  When the alternative is me maybe having to fight Odis, and possibly these monsters get away free, and… all the mess that comes from that?”

“Oh Avery,” her dad said, with emotion in his voice.  “You really couldn’t-”

She was almost afraid of what the answer would be.

“-couldn’t lob me a softball for our first phone talk like this?” he asked.

She let out a half-laugh.

“What would you normally do?  Before you could come to us?”

“Stew in anxiety.  Or talk to someone like Miss.  Or Rook.  Or Matthew and Edith, before Edith turned out to be a traitor.  Louise, maybe.  I dunno.  For this, specifically, probably talk to Lucy.  She pays more attention to justice and stuff.”

“I’m glad you’re talking to me about it, even if I really don’t know the answer.”

“Yeah.”

“I think the only things I can say for sure is you shouldn’t worry if you don’t know the answer.  Don’t kick yourself.  Because I don’t know either.”

“Okay,” she said.  It was dumb, because it didn’t resolve the situation in the slightest, but she did feel better.  “I called the Garricks in.  They’re sending someone in case the girls are still locked up.”

“That’s good.  That’s really good.  I hope they’re okay.”

“Me too.”

“Okay.  Hit me with that abbreviated play by play.”

“For tonight or for the whole day?”

“If your opossum can fix your fatigue, I don’t mind staying up late.  Give me the day’s play by play.”

Like a sports match, she thought, searching for a comfort zone.  “After school, I spent some time with- with Nora.  Just a bit, catching up, but I got called away.  To talk to Ann Wint…”

Avery finished drawing the circle.

The regulars of Thunder Bay’s council stood by the edges of the room, watching.  Judging, probably, knowing them.  Thea had put a stack of books on a chair, commenting now and then to Odis, who sat in a matching chair just to the left, back to the wall, no table in front of him.

Deb and Ann were talking.  Nicole Scobie was still around, but looked diminished, and wasn’t socializing.  Justin Childs from the Childs family had even showed up.

The space was large and empty.  Apparently one of Gilkey’s haunts.  They were staying well clear of the areas he’d marked as poisoned, and had gathered in a long dining room that had once had a table that was three times as long as even the one at Avery’s house, which could be unfolded to have the whole Kelly-Walsh clan gathered around it, with the youngest kids outside.  One window was broken and there was dirt beneath it, and weeds from an overgrown garden outside wound their way up and into the frame.

Franky was just outside, pulling on the goat’s leash, as it resisted following.  Taking it for a walk, as much as a goat could be walked.

Still, it was a good, clean, if somewhat dreary space.  The floorboards were even, and that made the chalk drawing easier.

“How are we doing, Zed?” Avery asked, trying to stay upbeat.  She passed mostly used chalk to Snowdrop and collected a fresh stick.

“You’re doing fine.  Looks like a nice diagram.  I need to get you set up so we can technomancy more of this stuff.  Move the laptop a fraction counter-clockwise?”

She did, trying not to get chalky hands anywhere near anything that could be important.

“Better.  I think you’re square… checking.  Good.  Safety measures are in.  You’ve got someone to go in after you if something goes wrong?”

“Yes,” Odis said.

Avery remembered the first time she’d heard about Alcazars.  From Zed, as a matter of fact.  Someone at the Blue Heron had gotten stuck in one, reliving events as a rabbit was killed.

She hated the idea of something going wrong and Odis being the one who showed up then.

The idea of it reminded her of the Forest Ribbon Trail, and being stuck with the Wolf right there.

“Thea?” Avery asked.

Thea had brought over some of her texts.  She was paging through one.  She looked from it to the circle.  “It’s very basic, isn’t it?”

Zed’s voice came from the laptop, saying, “Clean cut, square, nice and straight lines, triple reinforced, safety out that can be triggered from the outside, safety out that can be triggered from the inside.”

“Knock thrice,” Avery said.

“Knock thrice,” Zed confirmed.  “What book do you have there, Ms. Knight?”

“Blanchard and Murrel, advanced argumentatives… nineteen ninety-seven,” Thea said, checking the spine for the date.

“I’ve got that one or one of the other years of that one in a box in my basement,” Zed said.

“If it wasn’t in a box in your basement, you might’ve been able to look up Murrell’s Yoke?  Under Nature, chapter five.”

“Walk me through this?” Avery asked.  “My friend Verona was asking people to make it very clear what modifications they wanted to make to our last big ritual, seems like a good policy.  Help me understand?”

“Argumentative practices are like finding a radio signal,” Zed said.  “Right phrases or symbols, the more accurate and the stronger whatever it is you’re putting down, the easier it is to get what you want… contact.  You did a practice like this to get on the Forest Ribbon Trail, using a key phrase.  Jessica uses it to access the Ruins.  Used for summoning or sending Others, and going or escaping places.”

“Right.  And?”

“And… searching.  I digitized all my texts, which is why the actual book is in the basement, Ms. Knight…”

“I think you pricked his pride,” Brie said, from the other end of the connection.

“There we go.  Found the file.  Murrell’s Yoke, it’s a laurel, with antler and fang, pretty complex to draw.  It goes around the existing diagram as argumentative ornamentation, for added security over Nature’s Others and domain.  If you wanted to call dark wolves out of the Abyss and keep them obedient.  But for a place…”

“For a goat?” Thea asked.  “If we’re entering the goat, we want it obedient.  If it would become agitated while we’re inside it, it becomes an agitated space.  If we yoke it, we can keep the space stable.”

“Okay,” Zed said.  “I don’t have many opportunities to do nature stuff so it’s not my thing but… makes sense.  That looks like hell to draw, though.”

“I can,” Thea said.  She turned to Avery.  “May I?”

“If Zed says yes.”

“Yes,” Zed said.

Thea started drawing.  She started with leaf shapes, each half filled in.

“We’re doing two though, right?” Avery asked.  “Franky and then the goat?  We don’t want to yoke Franky.”

“That would make for a pretty poor signal,” Zed said.

“I could draw another.”

“Let me keep an eye on what you’re doing?”

“Okay.  And on Thea too?”

Thea looked offended at that.

I don’t trust you not to put some pattern into the leaves, Avery thought.

“Move me.  Give me a view of both.”

Avery did.  Then she started drawing out another Alcazar diagram, so it mirrored the other in the lengthy room.

“Do we yoke Franky by some other mechanism?” Avery asked.

“What are you doing to me?” Franky asked.  She’d come in through the set of double doors that opened onto the cracked, weed-overgrown concrete pad behind the building.  The goat ate weeds.  “Egging me?  Yolk?”

“No,” Avery said.

“Okay, because I do want to cooperate but that sounds gross.”

“We are turning you into a location, Franky,” Odis said, sounding weary.  “I would imagine that’s more worrying than any number of eggs.”

“Wait, should I be worried?” Franky asked.

“It’s riskier for me and Thea than for you,” Avery said.  “Especially because we don’t know what we’re looking for.”

The goat bleated out in the yard.

Avery was thirsty, and Snowdrop responded to the need by bringing water.

A droplet hit the floor and Avery pressed her thumb against it to dry it and make sure things were clear.

“Zed?” Avery asked, after another ten minutes of hand-cramping drawing.

“One o’clock position, from my perspective.  You need a triple line.”

Avery placed that line.

“And one of your squares is shaky.”

“Yeah.  I see it.  Let me rest my hand and then I’ll fix it.”

“Otherwise good.  I’d say triple line around the outside, get some things of Franky’s, place them at the four sides.  Identification.”

“Good call,” Avery said.

Franky looked reluctant to hand over her ID.  But she did.  Pilot’s license, regular license, health card, and a pass to some laser museum with her picture on it.

If that was essentially Franky, then that would work.

Avery finished the whole other diagram, including the wobbly square, while Thea was still working on the elaborate image to frame the other diagram.  Each of the Alcazar diagrams made Avery think of a building blueprint, folded in and overlapping so it resembled a magic circle.  One had the lines and ID, the other wreathed in a nature scene in chalk, with built in symbols, numerology, and carefully arranged branches.

“We’re going to feel so ridiculous if this is just a goat,” Avery said, as she walked over to the laptop.  “Or just a Franky, nothing weird going on.”

“Here’s hoping,” Franky said.

“Better safe than sorry,” Zed reported.

“How’s Brie?” Avery asked.

“Brie is good,” Brie replied.  “Hungry Choir thing is still in effect.  But I’m trying not to strain it or test it too much.  I’ve been absently reading some texts, thinking about options.  Mostly I’m looking after Zed while he runs himself ragged.”

“What texts?” Avery asked.

“Host stuff.  Harbinger stuff.  Maybe one day another huge power will need to be eaten.  It would be nice if I knew how to manage it if it happens.”

“Heavy,” Avery remarked.

“Yeah.  But I want to feel like everything I went through has a purpose.  That lives that were lost along the way have purpose.  I don’t know how you guys do it, though.  I think I’m better at doing things than the practical, diagram stuff.”

“I felt like that myself, before,” Avery said.  “You figure it out.  It’s a skill.”

“So Zed keeps saying.”

“Speaking of.  Zed, let me e-transfer you the money…”

“There’s really no need.”

“Let me.  I know you’re working your ass off, with all these wild Lordships, you spared me time… I’d feel wrong if I didn’t pay.”

“Sure.”

“Bill the Thunder Bay council,” Ann said.

“You sure?” Avery asked.

“We keep a fund for just these sorts of purposes.”

“I helped more than he did and I’m not being paid,” Thea said.

“He has done these before, several times, which is a nice expertise to have, and can advise us in case of emergencies.  You get other benefits.”

“Like assistance when I’m robbed?” Thea asked.

“Thea,” Odis said.  One word.

She fell silent.  Drawing away, using a measuring tool to get the right angle for the branches.  After another five minutes of work, she stood straight and stretched.

“Who first?” Avery asked.

“Me?” Franky asked.  “I’d like to know sooner or later.”

Thea motioned toward the diagram Avery had just drawn.

“Don’t step on the chalk lines,” Avery added.

“Sure.  Don’t steal my ID while I’m a house or whatever,” Franky said.

“If we moved that while the ritual is in full sway, we’d be putting ourselves, you, Thea, and Avery Kelly in an indescribable kind of danger,” Odis said.

“Uhhhh,” Franky said.

“Hmmmm,” Avery joined her own concern to Franky’s.  “Zed?”

“Yeah, no, he’s right.”

“We won’t steal your ID.  Don’t worry,” Odis said, deadpan.

“Should we weigh it down?” Avery asked.  “So it doesn’t blow away?”

“No we shouldn’t,” Odis said.

“But- seriously?”

“Seriously.  It won’t move unless moved and everyone here knows better than to move it.  Yes?”

There were sounds of agreement.

“Yes,” Snowdrop said.

“Then shall we?” Odis asked.

“Wait,” Avery said.  “Snow?”

“The goat knows.  What if it ate something from the edge of the circle?”

“Let’s tie up the goat, to be safe,” Zed said, through the laptop.

They did, and they secured the door, then returned to the room.

Avery knelt by the diagram, then put power into it.  The lines lifted up.  Franky flinched.

“Stay still,” Zed said.

Franky flinched again.  “How important is it that I stay still?”

“It helps.”

“Okay but that doesn’t clear anything up for me,” Franky said.  The last syllable was caught by the moving diagram and was dragged out into an engine whine.

Movements of the diagram squared away sections of Franky, then slid them this way and that.  Magnifying, spreading…

Until the entirety of the diagram was occupied by an entrance.  Engines mounted on the upper reaches of that entrance whined, like jets or something, and made it all shudder.

Avery tied her hair back into a ponytail, fixed her clothes and bag, checked she had everything, and then looked at Thea.  “I could go alone.”

“No,” Ann said, from the sidelines.  With the light coming from the roaring plumes of fire that shot out of the jets, she was lit in orange-reds and shadow.  “Franky is a member of the council.  Something you contrived to make happen.  Sending one practitioner into a representation of her Self, where she could be manipulated would be unconscionable.”

You came up with that between our last conversation and this one, Avery thought.

But she didn’t disagree, either.  “We stay in each other’s sight?”

Thea nodded.

She looked at Snowdrop.  Snowdrop sniffed, looking determined.

And, being careful of the chalk, they walked through, to the door.  The citadel of Franky’s Self.  The jet turbines spun, they spat out plumes of vapor, and the world beyond was drowned out as they pushed their way in through heavy doors.

“So apparently step one is to get our bearings,” Avery said, as they reached the central area.

“I am seeing a central lobby,” Thea noted.  “Altars of technofetishism in a rather spartan space.”

“Don’t know what some of those words mean, but yeah,” Avery replied.

Four or five stairs led from the door down to what Thea had called the central lobby.  Occupied by a dozen different faint images of people, it looked like the beginning of a museum exhibit, with glass cases and various pieces of exotic technology within.  Cyborg limbs in one.  A futuristic spaceship in another.  Each had a broad, impossible-to-lift book on a pedestal at each face, where pages could be turned.

“Half formed ideas,” Thea described.  “She has things she’s fascinated and passionate about, and constantly works through possibilities and applications, keeping pretty good track of whatever does connect.  Piecemeal.  Unfocused.  Look.  Ink color.  She picks one up and puts it down.”

“Sure,” Avery said.  “And that’s Franky as a person but I don’t think there are any great hints to what the trap might be.  Let’s not get too invasive.”

“Just trying to understand the space,” Thea said.

The images of the people around the space were three dimensional, but only visible from certain angles, and shadowy or incomplete otherwise.  They were moving around, paying next to no attention to the exhibits.

It felt lonely.  It made Avery think of being into sports, and her family never being especially interested in putting the game on.  Grumble sometimes, but he hadn’t been able to follow the games as well after his stroke.

It made her think of going to practice and feeling like yeah, her family would celebrate a goal, but they didn’t get it.  They didn’t engage with it, and if she rambled about stuff, it had felt like it didn’t all click when she talked about team dynamics or positions.

The only reason they were paying attention to the magic stuff was because they had to.  It was literal life and death, sometimes.

The voices of the bystanders were getting louder.  “There’s dust in the corner.  Litter- look at that page.  You can do better than that, Franky.”

“Bless her heart.  Such a space case.”

“Such a space case,” someone echoed.

Those last two words. appeared on one wall- scratched in, as if a blade had been dragged into paint and drywall in fast forward.

It healed as fast as it went up- mostly.  Avery could see where paint had faded or was uneven over the marks that had been left behind.

“So disorganized.  Look at this, label your signs clearly,” one of the phantom bystanders said, voice echoing with the hall’s acoustics.

“She’s organized though,” Avery said.  “It’s actually really beautiful.  Just turn around.  Look at the books.  Look at the displays.”

The phantoms didn’t.

“Space case!” the voice came from nowhere, loud enough to startle.

Snowdrop pulled on Avery’s arm.

“What’s up?” Avery asked.

Her heart was hammering.

“Gotta dive in,” Snowdrop said.  “Get personal.”

“Right.  Huh.”

Snowdrop squeezed her hand, looking serious.

“Let’s keep looking.”

Snowdrop sent a silent signal in the affirmative.  She didn’t let go of Avery’s hand.

“You okay over there, Thea?” Avery called out.

“Yes.”  Thea was leaning in to examine one phantom’s features.

“This room is only one facet of her.  We need to figure out the way we’re meant to navigate,” Avery said.

“Doors.  Two on the right, two on the left, one in front.  Stairs and exit behind us,” Thea said.  “They’re labeled, but I can’t read the labels.”

“Maybe.”  Avery did a circuit of the room.

There.  At the side of the stairs, there was a breaker box.  “Here.”

“What?” Thea asked.

Avery popped it open.  Inside, she could see a gearshift-style lever.  There was a circle, a square, and a crescent.  Green, blue, and yellow, respectively.  It was currently at the crescent.  “There’s always meant to be layers in an Alcazar.  So it’s not just about finding the right room.  But the right layer for the room, to find what we need.”

“You think this is it?”

“Seems like.  Usually it’s stairs, but Franky’s tech-mode.  Remember, if something goes wrong, knock three times.”

“Yeah.”

Avery shifted from crescent to square.  The lights went out.

And they came back on- in a slightly different hue and intensity.  Casting deeper shadow, with only the light from directly above, nothing in the displays.

The displays had changed.

Two long displays on either side, of Franky at different ages, clashing and blending into one another.  Versions of her that were cast in steel, some tarnished and rusted, others clear and intact.  School, family, various projects.  A fascination with some old toy, a Franky lying in bed, sick, watching television, with that television having a screen on both sides, and another Franky on the far side, looking.  Central, on the biggest display of all, was a ten year old girl cast in stainless steel, with skirt and hair blowing in the wind, holding a rocket aloft.  There was a sequence of images of her making something that looked like a voodoo doll as a kid, apparently for fun.

“Foundational.  I don’t think we’ll find what we’re looking for here,” Avery said.

Thea nodded.

She shifted gears again.  Circle.

The lights went out.  This time, when they came on, it was from displays instead, with those displays arranged differently.  Dense, intense, some with mirrors that captured Avery’s reflection and cast it back out as a series of measurements- some changing when she raised her arm.  Other times, they just cast math on a blank portion of wall.

“I bet she was a good engineer,” Avery said.

“Or she saw herself as one,” Thea replied.  “Let’s try a side route?”

Avery nodded.

One of the side hallways had a label that looked like an hourglass turned on its side.  They passed through- and the lights went out.

“Lobby to turned hourglass,” Avery said, to make a mental note.

Turning back on to place them back in a lobby-like area.  The same light patterns and projections existed, but they framed a few statues of men that stood in shadow, covered by drop-cloths.

“Likes, dislikes, rules.  Are these romantic interests?” Thea asked.

“Not what we’re looking for, I don’t think.  Unless we recognize any of these guys?”

“I know him, and him and him,” Snowdrop said.

Thea shook her head.  “Don’t recognize them either.  She was trying to decipher guys like there’s a puzzle to be solved, a right answer.  No guy in her life right now.”

Avery declined to comment.  Too personal.

“Turned hourglass romance room to triangle inside triangle,” Avery noted the sign and navigation.

The lights changed as they passed into another area. To red emergency lights.  Snowdrop’s hand squeezed Avery’s.

“Woah,” Thea said.

Avery’s first thought was that they’d crossed a boundary into something too personal.

But it wasn’t that.  This was- if she had to put a label on it, it was a crisis room.

A skinny man with a receding hairline stood on a lengthy plinth, surrounded by wreckage.  Some of the things in the display cases from earlier were among that wreckage.  A skinny, angry man, tearing his way through an airplane, past cyborg limbs, so that all those materials formed a ruined, mid-air wake behind him.  The glass cases flashed red phrases and bits of text onto the wall and illuminated the scene.  STOLE MY IDEAS TOOK MY WORK FIRED ME.

FUCK HIM.  DIE.

Voices joined in, but they didn’t echo the writing on the wall.  They were frustration, annoyance.

“What are you going to do without a job, Franky!?” an older woman shouted.

And in that flurry of sounds, intermittent lighting, and red angry words projected on the walls, there was one image- displayed among the others, not always fully lit, but stark.  Avery recognized the curse diagram.  It was placed on the wall, black and solid, outlined occasionally in flashing, projected lines.  Those lines bounced off the raised edges of the blackness and refracted around the room.

“So, going by my theory…” Avery said.  Thea had come over to stand beside her, looking at the diagram.  “Maricica the Dark Fall fae planted this diagram as a seed in Franky’s head.”

“She has a good head for images, space, memorization,” Thea noted.  “Good candidate to memorize something like this at a glance.  Or to be inspired.”

Avery nodded.

This was the clearest she’d seen this image.  Franky hadn’t been finished drawing it when Avery had interrupted.

She’d asked Lucy, and Lucy had sent notes, and mostly Lucy had confirmed Avery’s preliminary read on the diagram.  That this was branching, reaching.

But it was also barbed.  Each branch of this reaching curse would stick, linger, hold on.  And each ended in not a leaf, but branches knotted around bundles of sticks.  Five per.

Displayed here, as a thirty-foot by thirty-foot image on the one wall.

“How good are you with curses?” Avery asked.

“I’m not.”

“Trees, for family, barbs to make it hold, and the knotted bundle of five sticks?  Dunno.  The curved branches, that’s more connection-ish.  Or having the curse move in from sideways and diagonal angles.”

“I wish my friend Lucy was here.  She’d have a better read on this.  But I think I get it.”

“Do we move on?”

“Let’s change gears on this.”

“Fine.”

Avery hit the gearshift.

And put them in the foundation.

Charles, as a statue, a coppery red that lapsed into blood red in the sharp lighting, a large brass pot filled with pictures and things, smouldering, and a statue of Franky, on hands and knees, looking past that smoke and the scraps of paper and things that were lifted up into the air, to Charles.

Avery walked around until she saw a button.

“Curse, goat, revenge,” she said.

“What are you doing?” Thea asked.

“She likes tech, let’s give search engine terms.  Curse, goat, or revenge.”

Avery hit the button.

“And you’ll need power.  Your own blood, for something minor.  But to make the curse really hurt, you’d need a life.”

“His?”

“What good does that do?  He needs to be alive to suffer.”

The lighting shifted.  When it did, so did the postures and placements of the statue.  Charles further away, Franky in the process of dropping down.

“I know that anger well.  What it means to be betrayed that deeply.  I want to help you, Franky Reiber.  I’ll help you get revenge.”

Again, the lighting shifted.

Back to the scene from before.  Talking about sacrifice.

“A cow, goat, or deer will suffice.  A black one is best.  Any farm or village may have something.”

The lighting began to fade.

“Wait!” Avery called out.  It didn’t wait.

It skipped ahead to a scene of the goat tearing up Franky’s apartment.

“Pause!”

The scene stopped.

“What is it?” Thea asked.

“Previous entry.”

The lighting faded, and returned to the scene of Franky on her hands and knees, the little brass cauldron, and Charles.

“Continue playing from end,” Avery said.

The scene carried on.

Charles left, which warranted a change of lighting.  And when it resumed, Franky’s statue was holding a phone, screen glowing white in the room lit by angry red words.

“I think he knew,” Avery said.

“The Carmine?”

Avery nodded.  “And I think he knew that if he gave the right hint, she’d search, she’d go to a nearby location… and she’d ask there about cows, goats, or deer.”

“Goats are trickiest,” Snowdrop said.

“Goats are easiest,” Avery said.  “I think we need to investigate the goat.”

“You don’t want to keep looking?”

“If we did, I’d want to see if there’s inspiration for the cursework in there.  How it was presented.  But I’m not sure how we’d even approach that.”

“For a mind like this, I imagine she has a lot of inspiration to sort through.”

“I’d rather check on the goat.”

“Knock three times then?” Thea asked.

“Sounds like a plan,” Snowdrop said.  “Use the exit like a chump when we can hit the emergency escape button and scare the crap out of Zed.”

“There’s the exit, basically,” Avery said, jerking her thumb over.

Thea followed her to that exit, and they passed through, pushing through the heavy doors.

“And they’re back.  Safe and sound.  Reporting to your concerned companions…” Zed said, the sound of typing coming through.

“Let’s get Franky back, if that’s convenient?” Ann asked.

“Sure.”

“Any issues?” Deb asked.

“Some clues.  I think the Carmine sent her to get the goat.  He specifically urged her to get one, hinted she could go to a village.  She wooble searched it, and I think she went to the closest option.  I think he knew she would.”

“We think it’s the goat, then?” Zed asked.

“Yeah.  But before that…”

Avery went to her bag, and got paper out.

She drew aspects of the curse diagram, best as she remembered it.  Then she took a picture.  She sent it to Lucy.

Some of the others peeked at what she was drawing.

“Was a key part of the curse.  The ends of the branches near the perimeter of the circle, they tied together.  And there were five sticks in each, held out so they fanned out…”

“Arrows?” Zed asked.  “Lucy’s on a call with me, she’s asking.  Slings and arrows of misfortune?”

“No arrowheads,” Avery said.  “There were thorns on the branches.”

“Wands,” Justin Childs observed.  “Five of wands.  Conflict, competition, crossed efforts, five men holding staves, entangled together.”

“Where in the diagram was this?” Zed asked.  “Lucy’s asking.”

“Outer edge.”

“Tree branches?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we know what it would do.  The wands in particular, it tilts it toward practitioner families.  So she’d hurt her target, take his family away from him…”

Thea had undone Franky’s diagram.  Franky was being pulled back together into human shape.

“…But then it ripples out.  Binds to practitioners.  Binds to their family or house.  So disagreements never resolve, bitterness turns rancid, rivalries never let up, turn violent.  Probably catch a couple key targets with that.  This sort of thing travels a path of least resistance.”

Avery glanced around the room.  “We don’t have a lot of practitioner families, though.  Ann’s closest, but she hasn’t awakened her kids yet.  There’s the Childs family, they’re minor, but I guess they’d get caught?”

Justin Childs folded his arms, looking concerned.

“And the Legendres were around,” Avery said.  “Tomas Whitt has kids, but they were unawakened.  He’s gone too, though.”

“There you go.  Likely targets,” Zed said.  “Musser’s camp.”

Avery nodded to herself.

Zed spoke up again, “Oh, Lucy’s saying, with the thorns, it might’ve gotten Ann and Tomas.  The curse would linger, stick, reach out later.  So if they awoke their kids, even years later… I guess they’d end up going their separate ways, or fighting each other.”

Avery glanced at Ann Wint, and saw a dark look on her face.

“Sinister as shit,” Zed said.

“Thanks Lucy.  Thanks Zed.  Thanks for the read on the wands thing,” Avery said.

“Which raises a question,” Ann said, sounding imperious and dangerous.  “If that was the plan, to drop a curse with collateral damage on us, and ruin a few key practitioner families in the area, and if you’re right about him pointing to the goat, why?  What does the goat add?”

“Don’t know,” Avery said.  “Want to get the goat in here?  Better to carry it into the diagram.”

They all looked around the room.

“I might be the most able bodied in here,” Thea said, glancing past forty-something Ann, the narrow and scarred Deb Cloutier, old Odis, skinny Justin Childs, Avery, who was fourteen, and Franky, who was tall, not too thin, but unwieldy.  “Which is striking.”

“Did it go okay?”

Avery turned Franky’s way.  “It went okay.  Tried to steer clear of things that were too personal, but bumped into little things here and there.  I can tell you everything I saw later, if you’re curious.”

“Please.  I’d like that.  Yeah.”

Avery flashed Franky a tight, awkward smile.  “Oh.  Hmm.  Front and center, when we walked into the museum of Franky Reiber?”

The goat bleated in a drawn out way as Thea carried it inside, trying to look past it to avoid stepping on her nice yoke thing.

“There were these display cases, tech ideas.  Partial notes.  Those were really, really, really cool.  Cyborg arm, ship design, engine.  Very beautiful.  Very organized, super-comprehensive thoughts.  Didn’t understand most of it, but it looked… really cool.”

Franky looked touched- or even overwhelmed, taking that in.  She nodded.

“I hope one day you get to make it.”

“I hope so too,” Franky said.  “I started, and then my boss took the chance away.”

Avery nodded.

“Goat is in place,” Thea said.  She backed carefully over the diagram.  “Stay.”

Then she touched the yoke part.  It lit up.  The goat’s eyes lit up too.

“All good?” Avery asked.

“That is supposed to happen,” Zed confirmed.  “Start up the Alcazar?”

Avery did, bending down, reaching past the yoke, and murmuring, “For Kennet, in a roundabout way.”

It lit up, lines raising up.

Taking the goat into pieces- black hide, horns rising up to meet and form a doorway.  Tough plants speared up from between floorboards, and then rippled out, to form rolling hills.

The goat was now a door, leading into… something.

“If there’s a demon in this goat, I hope I take most of you down with me,” Thea muttered.

“I really hope it’s not anything like that,” Avery said.  “Let’s figure out what the heck the Carmine Exile was pulling.”

She, Snowdrop, and Thea reached the door together, and pushed their way inside.  The path was an extended horn, curving in a loose spiral, the staggered ridges forming stairs.  It looked like they’d twist sideways, upside down, and around, keeping the surface directly under them, even as it changed orientations.

And all around it, overcast sky, and fields of weeds and rock, or of mist rolling over grass.

Something about it-

Avery stopped in the threshold.

“Why is this goat so big, compared to the scale of the Alcazar diagram we drew?” she asked.

Thea shook her head.

With nowhere to go for answers but inside, they stepped in.

And the bigness only escalated as they got further in.  It very quickly felt like they were inside a ball, sky and ground painting the inside of that ball, while the horn curved and speared its way inside.  But the closer they got to the center, the bigger the ball was growing.

“No branching paths or rooms,” Thea noted.

“It’s a goat,” Avery noted.  “It’s pretty one note.  Eat, poop, be a goat, jump on hills, I dunno.”

“Terrible existence,” Snowdrop said.

Avery shook her head.  “We need a lever.  Or a secondary path, or some way… some way to change the channel we’re tuned into.”

“I thought it was one-note.”

“I know, but there’s gotta be… facets.  Ways to see that one note.  Maybe there’s a hint of a personality in there.”

“Don’t ask me,” Snowdrop said.  “I’m clueless.”

“What are you thinking, Snow?” Avery asked.

“Here.  Drop me over this way.”

Avery took Snowdrop’s hand.

The horn had vague faces to it.  And as Snowdrop stepped over the edge- she reoriented to a different face.

Avery felt it.  Through the familiar bond, she felt Snowdrop go panic mode.  She pulled, dragging Snowdrop back, and Snowdrop collided with her, hugging her.

“You okay?  Snowdrop?”

“Didn’t see nothing and you shouldn’t try,” Snowdrop said.

“What did you see?” Avery asked.

Snowdrop pointed.

Carefully, Avery walked over the edge, braced and ready for any incidents.  Threats-

And she saw something that made her think of the tearaway kid and his angel costume.

Except it was all fucking goats.  Sometimes literally.  Avery dropped to a crouch to maintain balance as the entire world- the inside of this planetoid, and everything else besides, became a complex arrangement of goats carved out of black horn.  Distance didn’t disturb clarity, and she could see them.

Not identical.  They differed.  Some were male, some female.  And different sections were doing different things.  Some were mating, others were dying- throats slit.

Thea stepped over, and staggered a bit at the weight and sight of it all.

If Avery hadn’t just been looking at the curse diagram, and thinking about how the branches were arranged…  Tree branches.

“Ohhh,” she said.

“Oh?” Snowdrop asked, clutching Avery in the face of all the goats.

Yeah, this wasn’t a field that any of the locals of Thunder Bay got into.  It was one that Musser and Reid had, apparently.  And that lady Verona had met in the dream.

Elizabeth and Dom Driscoll, they touched on similar things.  But they got into cities.  Patterns in cities, things that made areas important, pattern-wise, cities as magic circles and diagrams.

If she fuzzed her eyes, she could see this as a tree in eternal bloom, forged in goat.  One with strict and important, resonating patterns.

When the patterns came together for human bloodlines, they made for important names, and particular confluences helped feed into people who could alter history.  Oftentimes, it was invented and forced by practitioners, who believed the seventh son of a seventh son of a seventh son could have great power- but naysayers said if anyone looked at any family tree for long enough, they could find enough patterns to point to people, highlight them, and draw out heroes.  That it was rationalization after the fact, with power pumped into it.

Either someone had done the rationalization and power thing –Charles- or the goat somehow fit into some pattern of goats boning, getting sacrificed, of certain numbers in certain generations… whatever.

She didn’t want to say it out loud, in case Thea cottoned on.

But one glance told her that Thea had cottoned on.  A woman who’d had a vital power source stolen from her was looking at a goat that brimmed with power, passed on through generations, or funneled in by weird channels and patterns in history.  A lot of power – enough to take that curse from something that’d hit the city and turn it into something that could overflow, hit neighboring regions, and draw all kinds of negative attention to Thunder Bay, as people realized.

Or, if the curse never happened, but the goat remained… maybe people would realize the goat had this much power stored in it, and fight so viciously over it that Thunder Bay would topple.  Especially if those people were the kind of power hungry practitioner Charles hated.  Or experts in recognizing those patterns, like Musser.

Yeah.  That all made sense, except for the one sticking point Avery couldn’t get over.

The goat’s part of some stupid pattern that makes it a freaking Hero?

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