Pale: 3.2 - Lucy
Author: Wildbow

Lucy

Every moment that Avery was gone felt like added weight on Lucy’s shoulders.

Girls were chattering, making plans for lunch, and talking about a television show.  Pam was talking about summer plans, and Alayna was describing her family’s cottage to Brooklynn.  Mia, Hailey, Emerson, Alexa, and Sharon were coming back from the showers, having dressed in the stalls.

The tenor of conversation changed as they joined Melissa, who sat on the end of the bench closest to the door, crutches leaning against the wall beside her.  Melissa’s foot was in a big black brace that extended from knee to foot.  Lucy could remember seeing her ankle snap, as they’d watched the gymnastics team from the spirit world.

“What’re those?” Melissa asked Verona.

Verona was digging through her bag, getting sorted, putting notecards into her back pocket.

“Flash cards,” Verona said.

“Huh.  I didn’t take you for the studying type.”

“I’m not,” Verona answered with a matching shrug.  “That’s part of why I’m going more in this direction instead.”

“Huh.  Does it work?”

“Pretty well.  Hopefully it stays that way,” Verona said.  She looked at Lucy.  “For later today?”

“Do we have a test today?” Melissa asked, sounding alarmed.

“Wait, what?  Test?” Mia asked.  “Which class?  Hardy or Lai?”

“No idea if there’s a test.  This is more a side project with Lucy,” Verona said.  “Sorry if I scared you.”

“Jerk,” Mia said.  She quickly pulled on her shirt and flashed a disarming smile as soon as she was done.  ‘Just joking’.

“Hey, Melissa,” Alexa said.  “We were talking about going to Heroes.  Do you want to come?”

“I can’t really hike it,” Melissa said.  “These crutches are already bruising my armpits like crazy.”

“I could try calling my brother,” Emerson said.  “He drives his friends.  It might take some convincing, but he could drive us over, maybe.”

“I don’t want to be a bother.  But thanks.  I think, uh, just for today, I’ll stay behind and recuperate.  I’m going to swing by the front office and see if they have any painkillers.”

“They didn’t give you anything?” Alexa asked.

“They did but it makes me too groggy for school, so I took a half dose.  It’s not really denting it.”

“If someone gave me a ton of hard painkillers I’d be all over that.  Screw half doses,” Haley joked.

“That’s not a good thing, Haley,” Pam said, from the other end of the room.

“I hope you feel better,” Mia told Melissa.  “Do you want company?  I could carry your bag to the nurse’s office.”

“No, go get sandwiches, have fun.  Catch me up after.”

“Go, really.  I’d be bad company anyway.  I barely slept, I’m cranky.”

“You’re super sure?”

“Yes.”  Melissa sounded exasperated now.  “You’re being annoying.  Go.”

Gym class was over and the way things tended to go, the girls who were planning on hurrying over to the fast food places tended to be the ones who rushed through getting showered and changed, and the ones who weren’t planning on it or who had friends they talked to would stay and linger, though not usually in the changing room, with the ambient aroma of stale sweat.

For now, almost half the girls were out in the hall, including the main troupe of Dancers, led by Mia.  The other half were just now getting to the showers.  Only Pam, Caroline, Alayna, Brooklynn, and Melissa remained, and half of them were on the other end of the room.

Lucy and Verona were quietly getting sorted.  Lucy pulled the chain necklace out of her bag, and it jangled lightly.

“Cool.  What is that?” Melissa asked.

Lucy paused, then out of sympathy, held out the necklace so the contents hung at Melissa’s eye level.  Dog tags, the weapon ring, and her house key were strung on it.

“That’s a crazy ring.  Don’t you stab yourself on that?”

“Not often,” Lucy said.

“Who’s Corporal Bloggins?”

“Don’t be nosy, Mel,” Caroline chided.

“Sorry,” Melissa said, shrinking back.

“He’s supposed to be a soldier that didn’t make it back,” Lucy said.  “Another soldier gave it to me.”

“Well that’s heavy,” Melissa said, eyes widening.

“A lot of stuff is pretty heavy right now,” Lucy said.  Beside her, a silent Verona was zipping up her bag.  Dressed and ready to go.  Lucy still had to lace up.  She pulled the necklace over her head, working it past her afro-ponytail, and dropped the contents down the front of her shirt.  She glanced at Melissa, and saw the girl’s expression had changed.  Melissa stared off a bit, which prompted Lucy to go against her instincts and ask, “You okay?”

“Yeah.  I’m cool.  I’m just… I’m so tired I’m nauseous, and the painkillers I took aren’t helping.  Makes time slip by.”

Lucy took a seat next to Melissa, pulling her sneaker up onto the bench, and began lacing up tight.  “That thing with your friends bailing…”

“But you wanted them to stay, right?  To insist?” Lucy asked, quiet.

“Um,” Melissa said, and her expression darkened a bit, her eyes just a bit unfocused for a moment before she gathered herself together and looked at Lucy.  “We don’t usually talk, do we?  Is this a pity thing?”

“Maybe a bit,” Lucy answered, trying to keep her volume down, even though she was sure some people were listening in.  “I think you should take Emerson up on that deal the next time she asks.  Be greedy, take advantage of that stuff.  Or, like, in a few weeks you might find yourself in a place where your head is clear again, your ankle’s still not one hundred percent, and they’ve fallen out of the habit of including you.”

“I didn’t really fit in to begin with,” Melissa said.  “They think I’m annoying, but I tried hard, I was the smallest and lightest, so I was essential if they wanted a good flyer for the junior cheerleading team.  They had to include me.  Now they don’t.”

Lucy switched shoes.  “I think the lower you find yourself on the totem pole, the more important it is to hold your head up high and make your voice heard.”

“Oh?” Melissa asked.  “Is that your sage wisdom, as one of the three kids left over when everyone else has found a group?”

“Woah,” Verona said, behind Lucy.  “Talking like that is one way to tank the goodwill you have.”

“And those kids are me and Alayna,” Pam said.  “Not Lucy and Verona.  Especially not Avery.”

“Ow,” Alayna said, placing a hand over her heart, her head lolling back.  “My pride.”

Brooklynn said something, but she was talked over by Caroline.

It was something Lucy despised.  It was something she’d never gotten into the hang of and never figured out, and probably tied into what Booker had said about finding people to spend time with and connect with.  Put five or ten or twenty other kids from their class, a year younger, or a year older into a room, and every single one felt the need to be the main character, to butt in, to make the joke.  But it became noise and it made her resent every single one of them.  More than she resented Melissa’s comment.

“I’m sorry,” Melissa said.  “I didn’t mean that.  I’m tired, like I said.”

“I have enough assholes to deal with,” Verona said.  “If you’re going to be another one of them-”

“Hey,” Lucy cut in.  “Let’s leave it.  She gets a pass, as far as I’m concerned.  One.  We’ve got other stuff to do.”

“A pass would be appreciated.” Melissa looked ashamed.  “It’s cool of you.”

Verona pulled her bag off the hook on the wall and pulled it over her shoulders.  “I read once that love isn’t finite.  You can give someone some love and it doesn’t deplete any reserve or anything like that.  But the bad stuff, like being an asshole?  That’s kind of the same.  Assholes put shit out there and spread it around-”

Verona pressed forward, ignoring the interruption.  “Don’t do that.  That’s not the Melissa I know and it shouldn’t be the Melissa from now on.”

“Yeah,” Melissa said, sitting there looking miserable.

“I like what you said about love,” Alayna sighed, acting overdramatic still, her hands pressed over her heart.   “It’s like faith, warm and worth sharing.”

“This is why you’re one of the kids left over after we’ve all picked groups,” Caroline said.

“Go suck one of your horse’s dicks,” Alayna said.

The jeering and backtalk continued.  Lucy checked with Verona as she grabbed her bag.  Other girls were just leaving the showers now.

“Come on,” Lucy told Melissa.  She held out a hand.  “It smells like old armpits in here.  You’ll just be more miserable if you sit here like that.”

Melissa looked up at Lucy’s hand.

Melissa took her hand.  Lucy helped her get to her feet, then held her steady while she got her crutches.  Verona held the first of the double doors open as the girl crutch-walked through, Lucy following to get the next door as soon as the first had closed.

The boys were already loosely lined up at one side of the little hallway, the girls at the other.

“Melissa,” Mr. Bader said.  “I wanted to have a word.”

“I talked to your mom and one of the women from Wavy Tree.  They mentioned you sometimes lead exercises at the dance studio?”

“For the littler kids, kind of?  We take turns walking them through the stretches and stuff at the start.”

“In the interest of giving you some excuse to participate more, would you like to lead a class?  You’d have to come to me with an idea of what the class would entail.”

“I guess?  I kind of thought we could do more stretching and stuff.  There’s this yoga challenge I’ve watched hundreds of videos for.  I thought it would be fun to get everyone to pair up and try that.”

“Yoga?” Justin groaned the word from the tail end of the boy’s line.  “Eww, no.”

“It was just an idea,” Melissa protested.  “And it’s harder than it sounds.”

“The only yoga I want to do is that guy from the fighting game who breathes fire,” Xavier joked.

“I thought it would be fun,” Melissa said, almost drowned out.

Mr. Bader’s attention was split between her and the boys and it kind of looked like he wasn’t getting anywhere with either.  Melissa deflated further.

“Mr. Bader?” Lucy asked.

He frowned at her, now giving her his full attention.

“Melissa said something like she wasn’t feeling well and she was going to go to the office.”

“I was actually thinking of going and calling home,” Melissa said.

“Can we take her over?” Verona asked.

“Go,” Mr. Bader said.  “Try to stick it out for the rest of the day, Melissa.  Be good, all three of you.”

He glanced at Lucy as he said that parting line.  She wondered if he held a grudge, after her mom had called the school, or if it was something else, or just him trying to make eye contact with all three of them, and lingering on her longer for other reasons.

“Awkward,” Melissa said.

“Hm?” Verona made a quizzical sound.

“I didn’t think the boys would fight so hard about my idea.  Paired yoga is really fun if you’re good at it and funny if you’re not.  Kinda felt on the spot, and I already feel like everyone’s staring.”

“They’re not, really,” Lucy said.

“Well, thanks for getting me out of there, anyway,” Melissa said.  She grunted a bit with each use of the crutches.  Her shoe clopped down, her foot in the massive brace was held up off the ground, knee bent.  It had to be heavy.

“Glad to,” Lucy said, meaning it.  “And I do have ulterior motives.  We’ve got a place to be, not a lot of time, and the front office is closer to the door than the gym.”

“Crafty,” Verona said.

“Trying to think of Avery,” Lucy murmured.  To Melissa, she added, “If you don’t mind, we’ll drop you off at the office and then bail?  We can be square over the comment in the changing room.”

“Yeah” Melissa said.  “Sure, that’s cool.  I hope Avery feels better soon, by the way.”

They walked down the hall, Verona and Lucy on either side of Melissa.

“I do too,” Lucy finally said, and there might have been a gravity to the words, because Melissa gave her a concerned look.

It wasn’t hard to get Melissa refocused on moving forward, especially as they reached the short hallway that led to the principal’s offices and the main office.

They dropped Melissa off, helped her sit in one of the oversized puffy chairs, then left, heading for the door.  Once there, they waited with a handful of other students, while a staff member watched, arms folded.

No setting foot off school grounds until the bell rang.

“You’ve been quiet,” Lucy murmured to Verona.  Verona had changed into a black v-neck top and denim shorts.  She had a choker and a black lace belt that didn’t look strong enough to hold much.

“Planning,” Verona answered.  “Why the focus on Melissa?”

“I didn’t really intend it.  But maybe it’s some good karma.  I don’t know.  It’s not like we’re losing time or anything.”

“No, no.  It was good.  Just… I don’t know.”

The bell rang.  There were two double doors at the front of the school, and they pushed one set open, hurrying down the concrete steps doubletime.

The timing of this was kind of inconvenient, but whatever.

Matthew’s truck, side scraped, was parked just down the road, not in plain view of the front office.  Matthew stood beside the door, his back to the school.  He jerked his thumb at the cab of the truck.

Lucy stepped onto the wheel, vaulting over, then gave Verona a hand in getting over the side.  Charles sat in the passenger seat.  No Edith.

“Where’s your wife?” Lucy asked.

“At the meeting place, keeping an eye on things.  Heads up.  You’ve got a Faerie on board, and another one hitching a ride as soon as we’re outside of the city itself.”

“Faerie?” Verona asked.   She looked down the truck cab, which had some tarps and stuff folded up down one side, along with the tents, still from two weekends ago.  She reached for one bit with her toe.

Lucy switched to the sight, and saw swords and crimson.  “Care-”

Verona jumped, scrambling back.

In one corner of the truck bed was an arrangement that could have been a collage or a really stellar photo.  A really creepy, stellar photo.  A spiderweb, dense and scintillating, with a bat and a moth the size of Lucy’s head caught in it.  The bat held a centipede in its mouth, and twitched, flapping its one free wing, while the other pulled at the strands.

“Maricica?” Verona asked.

The moth folded its wings, then unfolded them.  The pattern on the wing became eye-shaped.  Maricica’s eye.  It blinked.

“I thought we would talk before we get there,” Maricica’s voice whispered.

The truck rumbled as the engine turned on, then pulled out of the spot.  Lucy ducked her head down so the tarps and tents blocked the view, in case they got in trouble for illegal riding.

“Talk about what?” Verona asked.

“A lesson, free of traps of ploys,” the spiderweb whispered.  The eye changed in subtle ways each time the moth managed to fold up and part its entangled wings.  It happened in a way that left Lucy feeling like she couldn’t see what the differences were from instance to instance, but when it got a few steps down the line, she could think back and realize how it was different from a few seconds ago.

“Why couldn’t you give us our gifts without traps or ploys?” Lucy asked.

“That wouldn’t be fun.  Shall we talk about the use of practice in negotiation?”

“I wouldn’t mind tips at this point,” Lucy said.

“You’re negotiating with a master practitioner.  He has years of experience in these affairs.  The first step is to know your enemy.”

“We talked about him last night,” Charles said, from the back seat.  The weather was warm enough the truck had both windows and the little window at the back open.

“You did.  I can guess the gist of that conversation.  Having information about an enemy who doesn’t know who you are is a tool.  At the same time, consider who he is and what he deals with.  He’s used to interacting with incarnations, often lesser ones.  Incarnations are literal, they are personifications of concepts, and are stubborn, single-minded, even short-sighted.”

“Oh no,” Verona said, looking at Lucy.  “Sounds like you.”

“If you play his game, he’ll have no difficulty getting the edge on you two.  If you don’t, he’ll at least have to work for it.  He has decades of experience dealing with walking and talking concepts, or surrounding himself with them.”

“Like clusters of personified Strife,” Verona answered.

“Yes.  I do believe you were taught by Matthew and Edith about shamanism.  You know why most practitioners dabble in it?  Working with spirits and diagrams?”

“Because all practices can use some form of it,” Verona said.

“He uses spirits of seeing, of teaching, of information.  He communicates with them.  This is his habit, his tendency.”

“So if we get into that general area, or talk like those spirits do, he’ll be more comfortable?”

“And comfortable is dangerous,” Maricica said.  “He spends his time around learned practitioners vying for favor.  Students, apprentices, and the sorts of professionals who would hire an investigator who can see through walls or read the future.”

“So… if we’re going to be something very different from that, we’d have to be not stubborn, not single minded, not learned or wise, and not cunning?” Lucy asked.  “And still somehow win the argument?”

“Something like that.  It’s…”

The truck slowed.  There were people at the corner.  One of those people put one hand on the side of the truck cab, and vaulted over without needing to step on the bumper or tire.  He crashed into a sitting position.

It took Lucy a second of studying his features to realize why he seemed so familiar.  He was a guy, light brown skinned, older teens, with his hair buzzed short, an earring in one ear, and a bit of beard at the corners of his jaw.  His eyes were like a hawk’s, and he looked very fit.

“Hi Guilherme,” Verona said.

The facial features were Guilherme’s, sized to match the body he wore.  His clothes were modern.

“Grotesque,” he said, putting his foot into the spider web.  Spider, bat, and centipede scrambled out of the way.  The moth came free and flapped, settling against the back window over Verona’s head.  “Has that wretched under-Faerie been misleading you again?”

“Telling us how we should approach the conversation,” Lucy said.  “To take him away from the familiar.”

“I don’t know that I would even try,” Guilherme intoned, his voice deep.  He lounged, one leg outstretched, arms draped over the side of the truck bed.  “You currently straddle the line between child and adult.  Perhaps be more child.”

“This was my idea,” the moth whispered, and the whisper was like knives against a sharpening stone, a fine rasp that cut straight through the wind that whipped around the truck.  “He would take credit for it.”

“I don’t want to get between you two.  The child thing is a maybe,” Lucy conceded.  “It’s hard to think of how we’d fit that into what we discussed last night and this morning.”

“Consider it,” Maricica said.  “We should outline how a master practitioner may handle a conversation.  You know of karma, of debt?”

“Some,” Lucy said.  “Charles explained that Alexander Belanger is pretty clever about karma.”

“When the conversation opens, he may announce himself.  Alexander Belanger.  Teacher at the Blue Heron, Augur, uncle of so-and-so, master of apprentices Nicolette and so on.  He may tell you he is grateful for the meeting, he would be happy to clear things up.  How are you?  Now, how do you respond?”

Lucy looked at Verona, then at Guilherme.  “This relates to karma?”

“When we were going to meet you two, we were warned not to give you our thanks,” Verona said.  “That you could take them and keep them if they were freely given.  Is this that?”

“It could be, but the chances are slim.  The effect is more subtle.  There are traps being set.”

“Ownership of the conversation?” Verona guessed.  “You told us about the, uh, Winding Signatures practice.  Where we put a bit of ourselves into the deal.  Is the mistake that we’re letting him get the first word?”

“That is a small advantage he would be eking out.  There are others,” Maricica said.  “How might you answer?  Give me an example.”

“I’m Lucy, that’s Verona,” Lucy said, perfunctory.  “How much can he trap us if we give him next to nothing?”

“A fair bit.  Karma is subtle but accrues.  If he gives you something and you fail to give something back, then the universe is likely to see it as you being unfair to him, in a sense of ‘fair’ the universe can care a lot about.  He told you who he is and who he’s related to, among all the people in his company.  He told you where he works and what he does, his intentions for the meeting, and extended courtesy.  Do you give him a matching and fair amount of information and courtesy, or do you let him have the karmic advantage?”

“How do we counter that?” Verona asked, twisting around to look at the moth.

“You don’t.  You can circumvent it, challenge it if you see an opening.  Try to do the same to him.  Give him something you don’t value at all that costs him a great deal to match.”

The truck pulled onto a wooded path.  It wobbled as it went over some roots that crossed the dirt road.

“Conversation is like a swordfight,” Guilherme said.  “Parry, thrust, attack.  Reputation is your footing.  Take away his.  Challenge, keep him wondering.  Try not to let him take the lead.  To ask a question when you don’t know the answer is like letting your opponent’s weapon out of your sight.  You’ll often find such a metaphorical blade between your ribs.”

“Guilherme forgets that not everyone is familiar with swordfighting,” Maricica said.  “It’s a strained metaphor.”

“Works for me, kind of,” Lucy said.  She frowned a bit.  The Faerie might not have been the best teachers for this kind of thing.  It was kind of like getting a PHD to teach math in kindergarten.  The pacing wasn’t there.  The metaphor worked better, because she could at least think of this as a scrap.

“You’re treating this as a lesson, but why don’t you just tell us what to do?” Verona asked.

“Because I don’t know you as well as I would want to, to have you be puppets, or to have you say certain things in the tones I would want,” the moth that was Maricica purred, “because the idea of ‘best’ varies, and I suspect I would quite enjoy the drama that would come from my view of ‘best’.  The rest of the people on this truck wouldn’t.”

Guilherme spoke, “And because technically, practitioners are meant to look after the affairs of Others.  If we led you to conclusions or undermined you, then they could argue Kennet is not being administrated and other practitioners would be needed to ensure it was all handled.”

“Right,” Lucy said.  She heaved out a sigh.

The truck rumbled over a patch of road with a lot of rocks.  Lucy held onto the edge.

“What do you think?” Verona asked her.  “Good cop, bad cop?  I’m guessing you want to be the bad cop.”

“I don’t want to be ‘good’.  Can I be me?  What if- can we mix it up?  If we try to put him out of his comfort zone, there’s like, a bunch of bases to cover, so what if we each cover different ones?”

Lucy thought about that.  She leaned her head back, looking at the moth.

“That is a way,” the moth purred.  “There are ways to tie it together, but this way isn’t wrong.”

Lucy turned to Guilherme.

“Do you truly care about my opinion?  You asked that dust-stained Faerie before you asked me,” Guilherme rumbled, his voice deeper than before.  “We’ll adapt, whatever you choose to do.”

The car rounded a bend, and Guilherme went from a sitting position to pushing himself off the side of the truck, landing on the road amid the dust the tires were kicking up.  When he stood up, he was taller than his teenaged guise had been.

“Nervous,” Lucy murmured.

The truck continued down the dirt road, until the tires weren’t traveling down dirt anymore.  Clouds of smoke rolled past them.

Lucy gripped the truck, bracing her foot for further leverage, as she lifted herself up to look over the top of the truck, ducking her head to avoid the leaves and possible branches that passed over the roof.  The truck slowed.

The dirt was black, and candles in bowls drifted slowly across the surface.  The smoke rolled past them in waves, and each time it did, the scene was subtly different.  Darker, with brighter trees, more candles.

There were papers stuck to the trees, and the bottom edge of each paper burned but didn’t consume.

The tires sloshed through the ‘dirt’ like it was thick mud.  Globs flew and were absorbed by the rest.

The truck rounded the last corner, passing through the thickest of the smoke.

The cabin was cracked open, and red ribbons extended through the open roof to the sky, disappearing into the darkness above.  More ribbons wrapped the building and filled the interior.  With the burning papers on every tree and two hundred little candles floating on what looked like a lake of black oil, the clearing around the cabin was illuminated with an orange-red light that only barely reached the building.

The truck rolled to a stop, skidding on the surface.

By the cabin, Edith knelt.  No toque like the first time they’d seen her, but the same bleached blond hair, recently done so there were no roots.  She wore a white dress, and leaned far enough forward her face almost met her knees, her back arched.  At the spine, it had parted, ribs splaying and pointing upward to form a circle.  Half the ribs had candles of varying lengths perched at the points.

Inside that circle of ribs sat a woman, her skin faintly patterned like she’d been burned, but not distorted or misshapen by that burn.  Her eyes were orange lights, her hair ash white, and she wore clothes that burned at the edges, like the papers did.  A white candle that might have been five or six feet tall and thick as a tree trunk was set across her shoulders, burning at both ends.  Whichever way she leaned, wax dribbled down its length.  At varying times, it ran down her arms, onto her shoulders, back, and down her front, with enough of it pooling in that circle of ribs that her legs were mostly hidden.  Sometimes it solidified, other times it congealed, and other times it broke away.

Matthew climbed out, walking through the sea of what might have been wax, just tall enough to cover any grass.  He said something Lucy couldn’t hear.

The woman bent down, wax dripping and breaking away in segments as she lowered her face to his, kissing him.

Lucy climbed over the edge of the truck, stepping onto the tire, then testing her footing on the ground.  Smoke from multiple candles and burning papers seemed to braid and collect together, forming larger masses that moved over the area.  It reminded her of the ‘manna’ of the spirit world.

The liquid was hot wax.  It was just warm enough she could feel it through her sneakers.  She hoped it didn’t ruin them.

Guilherme was already at the far end of the clearing, walking with John.  He’d gotten here before Matthew’s truck had, despite his earlier departure.

Maricica- Lucy looked back.  Maricica was sitting on top of the truck now, wings wrapped around her and draped over a good portion of the truck.

“Where’s Snowdrop?” Verona asked.

Edith straightened and pointed.

Snowdrop was running along the expanse of black wax like it was solid, practically skipping as she ran ahead.  Cherrypop perched on her head, holding her hair, while Bluntmunch and Gashwad fought to wade through.

“I didn’t think Edith was that powerful,” Lucy admitted, looking at all of this.

“It’s a specific kind of power,” Maricica said.  “Candles are set within home, temple, or sanctuary, in times of darkness.  There are Others who can bring the spirit world with them, at least for a little while.  It makes spirits stronger, but that’s not what we need right now.  They may have more spirits than we do.”

“Is this a problem?” Verona asked.

“No,” Maricica answered.  “This is only preparation.”

Even as she said it, the smoke began to withdraw, reversing direction to flow toward candles and papers.  The wax was a pool in the clearing, but the edges began to recede, the pool shrinking.

Edith had blown one end of the candle out.  Candles along the ground began to go out.  She turned her double-ended candle around.  Already, the pool had shrunk to half of what it was.

Lucy looked with the Sight, and it was easier to see the spiritual, A little sword holding every paper to the nearby trees.  Her normal vision seemed to ‘forget’ the aesthetic, seeing the pool as smaller, more of the candles unlit.

Edith blew out the other candle, then embraced it, ducking her head down and crawling into Edith James’s back.  Liquid wax sloshed and overflowed, heavy with soot and smoke, rolling over Edith’s hair, body, and clothes.  It dried and solidified into a thin layer that became nonexistent a second later.  Not truly there or solid.

‘Edith’ moved again, lifting her head and stretching.  She took Matthew’s hand and stood.

Then there was no obvious sign that anything had been done.  A few more blades in the trees than there had been last night, maybe.

Cherrypop screamed as Gashwad pounced onto Snowdrop.  They didn’t have the speed advantage now that the turf wasn’t so ‘spirit world’.

A small, unfamiliar goblin scampered across the clearing.  Bluntmunch caught it, lifting it up.  As Snowdrop ran by with Gashwad clinging to her and pulling her hair, Bluntmunch grabbed Gashwad too.

“News?” Matthew asked.

“They’re almost here,” Bluntmunch announced.  He gave the new goblin a shake, then said, “Go, or I’ll use you to wipe myself for the next month.”

He dropped the goblin, and it ran off into the trees.

Lucy and Verona caught up to Matthew and Edith.  Guilherme and John approached.

Even Charles came, venturing out of the trees and into the clearing.

“It has to be you two who approach this,” Matthew said.  “Anything else gets more complicated.”

Bluntmunch pointed.  All of them walked up to and past the cabin, which was no longer ‘exploded’, just a regular wood cabin with a broken wall and a lot of bright red ribbons within.

Lucy got her mask, hat, and little cape from her bag.  Verona already had the mask out, and grabbed the rest from her stuff.  They left their bags leaning up against the wall.

Lucy put on her weapon ring.  Just in case.

“Should we know what you did?” Lucy asked Edith.  “The spirit world stuff?”

“I’m so curious,” Verona added.

“I prepared the area, in case there was a fight.  Put myself into it.  Fire, light, and smoke are best, if you have to use any practice.”

“Funny thing,” Verona said, looking around.  The goblins had settled at the edges of the trees.  “You taught us a good bit about fire, light, and smoke.  I’ve got spell cards.”

“It won’t work, Edith,” Maricica purred.  She was full-size, half-draped over the tin roof of the cabin.  “They see it already.  They’ve decided what to do about it.”

Snowdrop approached, leaving Cherrypop behind.  She turned, hopping up a bit to look inside the window, then dropped down, slumping against the wall.

Birds took flight above the treeline.

“Always with the birds,” Charles grumbled.

“Seers like to use birds,” Charles said.  “Eyes above, auspices, symbols of wisdom and learning.”

The birds gathered, then slowly descended, in pairs, threes, in groups.

All around them, birds found perches on branches at the clearing’s edge.  Every single one of those birds proceeded to catch fire and tumble, flapping, to the dirt and grass below.  Papers appeared out of nowhere, igniting and burning.

“Hey, Edith?” Verona asked.  “Do you think you could tweak the papers? Is that asking too much?”

“What tweak?  It would have to be small.”

“Bright, more than hot?”

“A little bit brighter, perhaps,” Edith said.  She turned, her eyes roving over the trees, as birds continued to land and burn, tumbling as the fire got too bad.  Where her eyes traveled, the outlines of papers appeared, the diagrams on those papers emerging like they were scratched into the bark.  The same lines and diagrams shifted, symbols translating from underlined triangles to circles with dots, lines moving to become crowns of three rather than single lines.

Birds continued to land, and the fires were more like flashes, abrupt and bright.

Lucy couldn’t be sure, but there were a lot of birds in the air, and now the vast majority of them circled instead of landing.

The Augurs emerged.  Five of them.  A man of about forty, narrow, with very light brown hair that might have been reddish and might have been catching the lingering flames.  Lucy didn’t know that much about fashion, but it looked like his outfit was ‘bulletproof’, so to speak, an expensive blazer, shirt, and slacks that may have all been custom fit.

Three men, one thirty-something, maybe, she wasn’t good at ages, with similar hair, a little wider at the shoulders.  Two good looking men, closer to being teenagers or early twenty-somethings, who were a bit more casually sloppy in a way that a lot of guys tried and only a few succeeded at.  They succeeded.

And the girl that had to be Nicolette.  She had brown hair that was arranged so it all fell down on one shoulder, the rest pinned back by a hairpin with white feathers.  She wore glasses with branches for the arms and thick, stark white frames that matched the feathers.  Her blouse had a ruffle at the collarbone, and her skirt had a thin belt, pockets with a pocket protector and things slid in, including feathers and possible pens.  She wore sandals for the heat.

Smoke and the smell of burning feathers filled the air around them.

“Well,” the older man said.  “Charles.  You don’t look well.  And… two girls.  You-”

“Wait!” Verona interrupted.  Then she strode forward.  Crossing the gap between the two groups.

Lucy’s heart pounded.  If Verona was attacked now…

Nicolette backed away a step as Verona approached her.  She hesitated as Verona reached for her wrist.  When she pulled her hand back, Verona grabbed her belt instead, giving her a tug.

“Come,” Verona told her.  “Fix this now.”

“There’s a great deal we need to discuss before-”

“Shut up,” Lucy told Alexander.  “No.  This is between us and her.  Nicolette.  You’re the teacher?  You’re responsible for your apprentices?”

“Then you’re-” Lucy tried to talk over him.  He kept talking, and there was just noise.

“-you’re not responsible for your apprentices?  You don’t have leadership?” Lucy pressed.

“Come,” Verona insisted.

Nicolette reached for the pocket, where the feathers were.  “Don’t repeat that instruction.”

“Why?  Would it matter?  You’re not that weak willed, are you?”

“Every pattern matters,” Nicolette said.

All four of the local goblins inched closer, as if drawn in by the chaos.

“Every pattern matters,” Alexander said.  “As does-”

“Shut up!” Lucy raised her voice.  “If you’re not taking proper responsibility as a leader, are you at least willing to accept responsibility for everything that happened here?”

“-As does decorum,” Alexander said.  “I’m somehow not surprised Charles is with you; a forsworn practitioner would fail to instruct those that follow in the basics.”

“Are you willing to accept responsibility for what happened here?” Lucy asked, her voice raised.

“That’s a ridiculous notion,” Alexander said.  “And you belittle yourself by asking it.  You should know better.”

“We are the local practitioners of this area,” Lucy called out, stepping forward.  “Your group has intruded, invaded, and attacked without just cause.  We’ve offered fairness, warnings, and you’ve routinely violated them.  Most importantly, you’ve violated your own precepts and rules.”

“Have I now?” Alexander asked.  His eyebrows raised.  “How?”

“We intend to get to that shortly.  You have not answered my question.  You’ve evaded but not denied.  Do you accept responsibility for what happened here?  Answer or let the spirits decide.”

“No,” Alexander said.  “I do not.”

“Then why are you here?  You and your apprentices intrude on this dealing between us and Nicolette Belanger.”

Lucy’s hands were sweaty, her leg was jittery.  She did her best to not show it.

“Your curiosity is not our responsibility,” Lucy said, improvising from a ‘your emergency isn’t my problem’ line she’d heard once.

“But it’s mine, and that responsibility brings me here.”

“Are you only an observer then?”

“I’m not only an observer.  I’m an observer and more.”

“You weaken your position, being vague,” Lucy challenged him.

“I maintain my position by remaining free to do what’s needed, here.  You haven’t declared your own position, children, except that you are local practitioners.”

“We are the local practitioners serving this area and current needs,” Lucy said.

“And what we currently need is for Nicolette to make restitution and make things right,” Verona said, as she walked back toward Lucy.

“I was attacked first,” Nicolette said.

“You intruded before you were attacked,” Lucy challenged.  “You deprived this area of needed resources by clawing apart our ghosts to spy on us.  We witnessed how a force that works to help smooth over snarls and restore balances the universe was found deprived of what they needed to do their work, because of your greed-”

“A Mare of middling rank and power?” Alexander asked, with a laugh.

“Still an agent of the universe.  Nicolette Belanger sent omens in as scouts and an innocent was hurt.  We only recently talked to the victim.  The course of her life, her friendships, her family, and her academics has changed because you chose to look for trouble and trouble found its way to her feet.”

“Found its way to Her ankle, literally,” Verona said.

“Are you done?” Nicolette asked.

“No!” Lucy raised her voice. She let herself get angry.  The words were coming more easily now.  “You attacked our companion, stole her boon companion, and left her stranded.  She’s done the least to offend or obstruct you out of all of us, as much as our offenses and obstructions were just answers to your invasions and attacks on innocents.  And in attacking her, you’ve violated your own precepts and responsibilities.”

“Again, you’ve said that.  Explain it before you say it again, or it will have no substance,” Nicolette said.

“We are, as of the first of May, prospective students of the Blue Heron Institute, your school for practitioners.  In attacking our companion, you attacked a fellow student-to-be.  In leaving her where she is, you do her ongoing harm.”

“That argument falls through the moment I refuse your applications.”

“You cannot,” Lucy said.  Her mouth was dry and the smoke around her didn’t make it any better.  Everything hinged on this.  She swallowed.  “You cannot.”

“Why, pray tell?” Alexander asked.  “The school’s bylaws and terms clearly outline the tuition requirements, the process for applying, and the fact that the board must review every candidate.  You’re apparent dabblers who have tapped into an unclear power base.  You bring nothing to the institute and so the institute should give you nothing in return.”

“It should give us the ability to apply,” Lucy said.  “Because of things having nothing to do with bylaws or terms.”

“On August ninth, two thousand and sixteen, you received permission to set up a demesnes on school grounds,” Verona said.  “Claiming a place of power for yourself.  At the start of the ensuing term, you found your way to the role of headmaster and chief instructor.”

“Helped,” Lucy added, “by the fact that you made promises and deals, tying your demesnes to the school.  You stated your intent to use your place of power and the associated building to serve, educate the young practitioners of western Ontario.  You were not specific about dues-paying members.”

Charles laughed, and it was a mean laugh.

“Oh, hush, Charles,” Alexander said.

“You got greedy, Alexander,” Charles said.  “You cast your net wide, attached your place of power to the school, so you could have power over the school and the people in it, and implied the school, in abstract, would be more charity than anything else.”

Alexander looked more amused than distressed.  “How on Earth did you find this out?”

“We have an acquaintance who looks or looked for edges against practitioners whenever she could,” Verona said.

This was Miss’s gift to Verona.  Their means of applying to the school.

“Technically,” Lucy added, “I don’t know that any of your students have to pay dues, I mean, if you want to keep your office and place of power.”

“Did you swear it?” Charles asked.

“No,” Alexander said.  “But it would weaken my place of power and my hold on the school, true.”

“Hey, does that mean we could contact every other student and let them know?  And rivals?” Verona asked.

“I think it might be something we can do,” Lucy said.  “So, Alexander?  Please, for the third time… shut up.”

Maricica laughed, tittering, and it seemed to echo a bit, with her face close to the tin roof.

It was Maricica’s trick.  The first gift she’d given, at the outset of their interview.  The notion that a three-beat of a phrase or idea could help sign, seal, and deliver an argument, making it more theirs.

Now please, please, please, don’t call us liars, Lucy thought.

“Would you want to attend in the fall?” Alexander asked.

“I don’t especially want to, but as you pledged, we have the right, and we have the intent.  All three of us will.”

“There are only two of you in the masks, here.”

“We come as a trio.  We awoke as a trio, and we stay a trio,” Verona said.  “Also, nah.  Summer school, please.”

Nicolette turned her head, looking at Alexander.

“I’ll grant you attendance.  Tuition free, in exchange for you keeping quiet about this.”

“That’s not the entirety of the deal, Alexander Belanger,” Lucy said.  Again, she let the anger into her voice.  “Did you have any part in the events of last night?”

“I have a small part in everything the students of my school do.  It’s the responsibility of a teacher.”

“Bullcrap!” Verona raised her voice, joining Lucy.  “You attacked a prospective student.”

“How would I even know she was a prospective student?  You only introduced the idea a short bit ago.”

“You’re an Augur, Alexander,” Lucy said.  She approached, drawing closer.  The two sloppier young men drew closer, stepping between her and Alexander.  “To look at the future is to help make it so.  If you didn’t look forward and anticipate this possibility, you were reckless and a reckless leader is a poor leader, and so you weaken your position. If you did, then you knew you attacked a student, and-”

“And I can see where this response of yours is going,” Alexander said.

The little tidbits about Augurs were from Charles.  That they locked themselves to futures by seeing those futures.  It made for a tricky road to walk.

“Nonetheless, she had not applied and had demonstrated us no interest in applying to the Blue Heron Institute,” Alexander said.  “This is not the masterstroke you think it is, and if you want to dwell in the future, you should know I remain very comfortable there.”

Those words felt like they had weight.  Like he was finally bringing out the guns, with a simple turn of phrase.

“We want restitution,” Lucy told him.  “And the freedom to deal with Nicolette Belanger unimpeded.”

“What sort of restitution?”

“Because of your failed leadership, and possibly because of your involvement, Nicolette Belanger was led to trespass and deprive our area of needed resources-”

“Mere ghosts,” Nicolette said.

“-Harmed an innocent-”

“Who may have been due harm anyway.  Responsibility isn’t as clear as you draw it out,” Nicolette said.

She was picking up steam.  She’d been quiet while Alexander had taken the lead, but she seemed to have sensed that he’d ceded ground, and didn’t completely have her back anymore.  Now she was standing up for herself.  She seemed more imposing now.

“-And harmed a fellow student,’ Lucy said.  “Depriving her of a needed resource in an unwarranted attack.”

“If you are a trio from start to end, you can share the responsibility for sending my own minion to attack me.  My actions were not fully unwarranted, nor were they the beginning of hostilities,” Nicolette said.  “They were merely the conclusion.”

“It’s not concluded yet,” Verona said.  “She’s still there, dealing with the Wolf.  You’re still here, because we have something you want.  Stolen by a little Lost opossum girl.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Snowdrop chimed in.

“She can lie,” Alexander said.  “Cute.”

“Alexander, Nicolette,” Lucy said, trying to maintain the momentum, keep Nicolette on the back foot.  “Through your actions, our companion was interrupted from saving innocents from the Hungry Choir.  Three wrongs, in engagement, allowing a greater wrong to continue unabated.  It doesn’t feel like this is the way the world should work.”

“I would say the world makes more wrong turns than right ones,” Alexander replied.  “And that it is better to go with that flow.”

“The Choir has been around for a while,” Nicolette said.  “There’s no reasonable expectation you could have stopped it.”

“Can you swear, right now, that we couldn’t have?” Verona asked.

“I don’t know who you are or what you can do,” Nicolette said.

“We can make you bleed twice,” Lucy said, raising her chin.  The light changed as it passed through the eyeholes of her mask – the wood around those eyeholes didn’t really get in the way of her sight or Sight, but the eyeholes were framed with a diagram and they made her eyes shine red from within.  Now the same effect changed how the light looked as it filtered through the trees and passed through to her eyes.  A slight rosy tint.  “Our acquaintance can set your place on fire for the third instance.”

“For fair restitution,” Alexander spoke up, “If our interference stopped you from possibly impacting the Hungry Choir, would it suffice to give you some ability to impact the Choir as recompense?”

“Depends on a lot,” Lucy said.  “What ability?”

“Answers.  I’ve briefly looked into it, and I am very good at looking into things,” Alexander said.  He smiled.  “I could let you ask questions and tell you what I know.”

“Feels like a trap,” Verona said.  “You could have looked into it for three seconds.”

“If there’s nothing useful in my answers, or if I don’t tell you everything I know, then say it’s so, and we can agree on another form of recompense.  Further, for my involvement in last night, I’ll make restitution by withdrawing my involvement today.  You may deal with Nicolette as you see fit.”

“You bastard.  You gave me the tools and pointed me in their direction,” Nicolette spat the words.

“Agreeable?” Alexander asked.

“Not yet,” Lucy said.  “Give her a bit of prodding.  Withdrawing involvement isn’t enough, if you were that much of an instigator last night.  You need to make this better.”

“Nicolette,” Alexander spoke, his voice authoritative.  “This feud should end.  Fix what’s been done, or it will impact your future as a student.”

Nicolette drew in a deep breath through her nose.  “I could tell students about the tuition issue.  That you pledged education to local practitioners, without qualifying it was if they paid.”

“Signing up as a charity when you’re not,” Charles said, his voice rough.  He smiled, his scraggly beard turning up a bit at the sides of his mouth.

“That would also impact your future as a student, Nicolette,” Alexander said.  “And Charles… I wouldn’t poke the metaphorical hornets nest when I could say you’ve rendered yourself deathly allergic to everything, especially the hornets.”

“Charles is protected by Kennet,” Lucy said the words with as much authority as she could muster.  It sure felt like they’d cleared the biggest hurdle, dropping the enrollment on Alexander.

“And Kennet is being looked after by us, in all matters a practitioner is needed,” Verona added.  “So you don’t need to stick your noses in anymore.”

“Ask your questions,” Alexander said.  “The Choir.”

“Where did it come from?” Verona asked.

“I don’t know,” Alexander said.

“That’s not the kind of answer you need to be giving,” Lucy warned.

“It’s the truth.  I can tell you I tried to look into it and I was interfered with.  Liberally.”

“When was this?” Lucy asked.  “When did you look and why?”

“I looked into it because there was a lot of power bundled up in it, even early on.  That much power that fast has to come from somewhere, and then be given form as a ritual by someone or something.  A strong incarnation, a lesser god, a great Goblin.  If it had appeared in the last month, I might think it had something to do with the current state of the Carmine Beast.  That could be a big enough power source… perhaps.  Even that might not be enough.  And yes, we do know.  Someone went to appeal to the Beast and found it missing.  Word is getting around.”

“What has that kind of power?” Lucy asked.

“There are things that have that kind of power, like gods and strong incarnations, but I’m not aware of anything that strong that could have any connection to the Choir, and I’ve done some extensive searching.  It’s why I’m so curious.  I looked and every time I got close, I had wild spirits on my doorstep, or goblin problems, or pointed fingers jabbing through the metaphorical peepholes, trying to gouge out my eyes.  Ever since, I’ve set lesser apprentices to the task, to see if they can surprise me by finding something relevant.”

“Not yet.  Chase here has.”

He indicated one of the boys with the disheveled look.  Bit pudgy, Lucy noted.

“Did you find anything?” Lucy asked.

Chase remained silent, giving her a level stare.

“He did not,” Alexander said.  “If you’ve looked online you know most of it.  It likes to locate itself in ghost towns, especially ruined ones.  Every phase of the moon, the ritual rolls forward.  Those who eat the meal succeed.  Those who don’t become part of the Choir.  So it’s been from the beginning.”

“Did it evolve?” Verona asked.  “Start as something else, then become the flyer and website?  Gain more rules?”

“It didn’t need to,” Alexander said.  “It was this from the beginning.”

“The internet hasn’t been around for that long,” Lucy said.

“Neither has the Choir,” Alexander said, with a smile.  “Wye here found the oldest pattern of victims we’re aware of, and that was nine years ago.  Eight students at a school in Kingston, Ontario.  There were periods it lay dormant, because it didn’t have enough applicants, but the flyers started to spread.”

“But the ghost towns,” Verona cut in.  “How?”

“It likes ghost towns as a location, and hunting grounds near ghost towns.  I don’t know why.  And it likes here.  But it did not make the towns into ghost towns.  The Choir as we know it has been here for what I estimate to be nine years, it started out much as it appears now, with no major changes in rules, and that continuity makes it harder to break and disrupt.”

Small consolation, but it was a starting point.

“We don’t have long before we have to go.  Can we contact you if we have more questions?”

“You can, but you should bring the questions when you attend my school this summer.  Cooperate with me, and I’ll cooperate with you.”

Charles made a spitting sound behind Lucy.

“We need you to leave Kennet be,” Lucy said.  “Your underling has already upset balances-”

“I tampered with ghosts,” Nicolette said.  “It’s like saying I disturbed the ecosphere by trimming weeds.”

“Our weeds, in a place under our protection,” Lucy said.

“For how long?” Alexander asked.

Lucy and Verona turned to look at him.

“Leave it be for how long?”

“For good,” Lucy said.

“No.  If young practitioners can come to me from here, I can’t be that blind or uninvolved with things here.  The blade cuts both ways.  If you’re acknowledging my position then you have to acknowledge my need as head of education for this area.”

Lucy turned, looking back.  The Others of Kennet were mostly gathered.  Snowdrop, the goblins, the two Faerie.  John held a rifle.  There was Matthew and Edith standing next to one another.  There was Charles, who wasn’t an Other but was essentially as offputting as one.  Alpeana was absent, but she couldn’t really operate in the day.  The Choir was absent, but the Choir was a whole other mess.  The absence was a good thing.

Charles leaned in close to whisper something to Matthew.  Matthew stepped forward and leaned in to talk to Verona.

“Until the affair with the Carmine Beast is settled,” Verona said.

“That could be never.”

Verona and Lucy looked back.  Matthew held up his hand.  Five fingers splayed.

“Or five years.  Whichever comes to pass first,” Verona said.

Alexander nodded.  “I will not communicate word or symbol, and I will keep my other students, apprentices, and acquaintances from doing so, about Kennet.  I will avoid it and keep my other students, apprentices, and acquaintances away from it to the best of my ability, unless given cause the highest authorities would deem Just, such as revenge for greatest wrongs or direst need that impacts us all.”

“Do you really think it will come to that?” Lucy asked.

“No, I do not,” he said.

“Do you know it will come to that?” Verona asked.

Alexander shook his head.  “But it’s a good proviso, as a just-in-case.”

Lucy looked at Verona, then the others, then nodded at him.  “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Leaving you,” Lucy said, setting the burning red eyes of her fox mask on Nicolette.

“I want my book,” Nicolette said.  “Whatever else she took, as well, please.”

“I took nothing!” Snowdrop called out.

Goblins tittered and cackled around her.

Verona held up the book, pocket sized and leather-bound.  She paged through it.  “You made a lot of appointments.  Many with Alexander.”

“I would rather not go to war,” Nicolette said.  “I will if I have to in order to get that back.”

“It feels like an empty threat,” Lucy said.

“I’m willing to deal.”

“And you’re offering what?” Lucy asked, a little angrier.  “I’d really like to hear you guess what it is we want or need, because it would say a lot about your character.”

“I was thinking that some goodwill could go a long way.  You may be on Alexander’s bad side.  If you’ll be attending the school, having some friends there will help.  My word could make or break your relationship with a half-dozen other practitioners around our age.”

“You’re kind of ignoring the fact that our friend is in there,” Verona said.  “And has been for most of the night and all morning.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do about it.  You have the companion.”

“You destroyed the escape route and ruined the way.”

“What do you want from me?” Nicolette asked.

“I want you to pledge to take her place, and soon.  Deal with what she’s dealing with, and find your own way out.  Let her free.  I want you to make restitution to those you hurt with the practice.  You’ll provide something to restore the balance you upset with your first offense against Kennet.  You’ll provide something of equal value to the harm you did to the girl your omens hurt, and make it up to her.  You’ll make it up to the victims of the Choir from last night.”

“I’m not especially inclined to throw myself into a broken ritual I know nothing about.  I can look into ways to get her out.”

“Take.  Her.  Place,” Lucy said.  “Or get her out now.  Don’t give us weak words like that.”

“Nicolette,” Alexander said.

Nicolette closed her eyes.  “What?”

“I can put you in contact with those who would help you find your way out.  For a price.”

“Copy a tome for me.  You can pick the day, but it must be this summer.”

Nicolette opened her eyes.  She looked at Verona.  “Would you check the date?  Say, the nineteenth of August?  Is it open?”

Verona flipped through.  “There’s no entry for that date.”

“I remember making an appointment for then.  It’s my grandmother’s birthday.  Did you interfere with my notebook?”

Verona smiled.  “Tons.”

Nicolette was stiff.  She clenched her hands.  “What did you do?”

“I took all the appointments out.  Looks like I cleared your schedule,” Verona said.  She drew her feather pen out of her sleeve and waved it around, and then she threw the notebook, and it landed halfway between them.

“Did you save them anywhere?”

“Yeah,” Verona replied.  “But I’m not telling you until after you’ve pledged to help.”

“I can’t pledge until I have a date clear to make a deal with Alexander,” Nicolette said, a bit emotional.  “You’re being unreasonable.”

“What’s unreasonable,” Lucy growled, “is that you left our friend in there to deal with a nightmare situation for twelve hours.  If you’re scared at all right now, then I hope you realize that she’s been dealing with worse.  If you don’t give us what we need, and what my friend needs right now, I fully intend to destroy you.”

“We intend to destroy you,” Verona said.

“The eighteenth,” Nicolette said, to Alexander.  “I’ll set the time aside to copy out the book.  I leave the day open to travel to see my grandmother.  I’ll… figure something out.”

“Tell us,” Lucy said.

“I pledge to take her place as soon as I’ve secured a reasonable belief that I can escape, and I pledge to do what is necessary to establish that belief promptly.  I will think of a way to make restitution for the girl that got hurt, roughly proportionate to the harm done, and I will find and offer ghosts to Kennet, at your discretion and general request, as fodder and fuel, until I’ve provided you with a whole ghost for every one my Collector gathered from.”

“In due time,” Matthew said.

“One a season at a minimum,” Nicolette said, “Or four a year, minimum.”

“You’ll bring it here where it will be managed by us, our predecessors, or an Other.  You don’t have permission to enter Kennet,” Lucy said.

“And the Choir?” Lucy asked.

“At least tell us you’ll help when we ask for it.”

“Go do what you need to do to rescue our friend.  Promptly.  We could ask you to spend an hour there for every hour she was there, but right now I just want her out.  Return that goodwill with some of your own and be fast.”

“I will try,” Nicolette said.

“Thank you,” Lucy said.  “When you’re done, if there’s no fuckery, we’ll send you your schedule.”

Nicolette ducked her head in a nod or a bow, then turned.  She was stiff as she hurried back toward the treeline, presumably toward the road where she and the other Augurs had parked.

The Others of Kennet, Verona, and Lucy remained where they were as the Augurs departed.

It took a few minutes before the flock of birds disappeared from the sky above.

“We have a bit of time, then,” Matthew said.  “Before he’s free to tell others that we have a number of Others here.  John?”

“Yeah,” John said, quiet.

“What’s this?” Lucy asked.

“We may have to put a bullet in him toward the end of those five years,” Matthew said.  “To keep ourselves safe.  Don’t worry.  We wouldn’t ask that of you.”

Lucy remained silent, peering at the window, and the back of the opossum girl’s head, as she peered over the window ledge and into the room with the ribbons.

“We have to get back to school,” Verona said.

They left the Others there without another word.  She felt bitter and frustrated, and it was hard to say why.  Feeling that angry, at Alexander and Nicolette, and being unable to really unleash it because she was trying to be smart about this… it sat badly.

More than just that sat badly.  They were halfway back to the truck when Lucy turned.  “Why does it feel wrong?  Like this wasn’t a win.”

“It was a win against Nicolette,” Matthew said.  He touched her shoulder lightly to get her moving toward the truck, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

“What about Alexander?” Lucy asked.

“He got exactly what he wanted, and he didn’t have to concede much.  He wanted answers about Kennet.  You’ve enrolled, and he has the reasonable expectation he can get those answers now.  If not then, then in five years, or when the issue of the Carmine Beast is handled.  It’s a problem for the future.  For today, you have class, and we wait for Avery’s return.”

She was almost of a mood to tell Matthew that he and Edith were leading culprits for the issue of the Carmine Beast.  They were also some of the last interviews that needed to be conducted.

But that was an issue for another day.  Lucy climbed into the truck and helped Verona in, and once she was in, she slumped down, exhausted, pulling off her mask.

The words were screamed by a messy possum girl, who stood in the doorway of Ms. Hardy’s classroom.

Verona already had papers prepared, laying them down.  Lucy had to act by another means.  She’d had her knife with her for the meeting with the Belanger Circle, and she pulled it out now, dragging it across her desk, drawing crude lines.  A few heads turned.

Those same heads got distracted by Snowdrop’s inarticulate noises.

Connections broken, bags grabbed, they followed.  Snowdrop broke into a run as soon as she was sure they were keeping up.  When Snowdrop proved too small, Lucy picked her up and swung her into a piggyback position.

Her legs burned as she ran with the added burden.  Verona huffed.

They caught up to Avery about two thirds of the way to the clearing, in the midst of the woods.

She looked so tired.  Shaky.  She was dusty, and pale like she’d been sick.  Her hair wasn’t in a ponytail.

“Hey,” Avery said, her voice hoarse, quiet.

“Are you okay?” Lucy asked.

“I feel like I was just screamed at, threatened, and told horrible things by the most unpleasant person I may ever meet, for what felt like days,” Avery said.  She swallowed.  “Am I bleeding?”

Lucy looked, searching, then shook her head.

“Miss kept the Wolf from hurting me, once she got there.  Distracted her.  She said she couldn’t come back for a while.  But she felt she had to, because she set me on the path, and I was right in saying she came from there,” Avery said.  She sounded a little shaky.  “She said you were trying to help.”

“We tried.  We had to enroll at magic school to get the leverage to get you out.  You’re enrolled too,” Verona said.

“Thank you,” Avery said.

“She’s such a wimp,” Snowdrop said, walking over to Avery and taking Avery’s hand.  “Being such a baby right now.”

“I want to, Snowdrop.  I want to sleep for the next day and I want to cry and curl up and be a baby about this.  There’s so much I don’t know how to deal with it.  That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.  Nicolette offered to barter with the Wolf, to take my memories of the last twelve hours.  I said no, mostly because I wanted to leave sooner than later.  And because I wanted to- I guess I’d rather be someone who remembered I could tough it out.  I don’t- I…”

Avery moved her hands, dropped them.  She looked frustrated and angry, and Lucy felt like she could connect to that feeling.  It looked a lot like Lucy had felt, personally, when she was angriest at herself.

“Can I hug you?” Verona asked.

Avery nodded, stiff and unsure.

When Verona hugged her, Avery hugged back so fiercely that Verona made a small sound.

Avery motioned with her hand.

Lucy joined the hug, doing her best not to bludgeon Snowdrop with her hip, when Snowdrop was already part of the hug.

“The worst, absolute worst part of it was thinking I might never get out.  Then Miss came, and said I should trust you.  So I did.  With all of my heart.  Thank you.”

“I wish it was sooner,” Lucy said.

“Me too,” Avery said.  “But I’ll take what I can get.  Thank you.  I mean it.”

The hug lasted a bit.  Lucy blinked tears out of her eyes as the hug broke up, then fiercely wiped them away before the others could see.

“What happened with the Choir?” Avery asked.

Lucy swallowed, and shook her head.

“Nobody made it,” Verona admitted.   “The flyer changed.  New locations and dates for the next eight nights.  There’s no new applicants from Kennet, and for the first time, there’s eight straight nights with no events taking place here.”

Lucy sighed.  “It’s staying away.  We’re guessing it’s going to keep staying away for a while now.”

Avery turned, looking around.  There were only trees.

“We have to stop it,” she told them.  With a bit more conviction.

“Okay,” Lucy answered.

“I want to do things differently.  Better.  The next time it comes around, or the next thing like it, I want to be ready to tackle it.”

“Cool,” Lucy said, feeling lame.  It was hard to respond to Avery, when Avery seemed to need these things.

“I’ll be running the other direction,” Snowdrop said.

Avery put her hand on the opossum’s head, rubbing hood against hair.

“Do you want to go to class?” Lucy asked.  “Play hooky?  We could hit up a convenience store, buy snacks.  Go watch your favorite movies.  Whatever you need.”

“You should go back to class,” Avery said.  “I think I’m going to go for a run, sneak back into my place, shower, and crash hard.  We’ll figure out what to do with you, Snowdrop.”

“Yeah, shower me with praise and affection,” Snowdrop said.

“There have to be fifty other things that are better than you going off on your own,” Verona said.

“It’s what I want,” Avery said, firmly.  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a frayed black rope.  “Miss brought me this.  Bit of a consolation prize, when I couldn’t save Reagan and the others.  I kind of want to play with it.  Figure it out.”

Lucy wanted to say something, but her own feelings on that subject were a bit too heavy.  And new.  She’d been trying not to dwell on it while focusing on the subject of Avery.

“What does it do?” Verona asked.

Avery wrapped the rope around her hand, then walked backwards, until a tree blocked line of sight.

She kept walking backwards, but now she was ten feet away.  She kept walking, and whenever line of sight was broken, she appeared a distance away.

Moving like Miss had, kind of.

“Stay in touch?” Lucy asked.  “I’ll worry if you don’t.”

Avery nodded.  Rope still wrapped around her hand, fist closed around the ends, she broke into a run.

Covering an easy ten times the distance as she cut from tree to tree, ducked behind a rock and appeared twenty feet away from behind a tree, took two paces until she’d disappeared behind another tree, and appeared another thirty feet down the path.

Lucy remained where she was, tense, Verona beside her.  Waiting, worried.

She heard a distant Avery, hollow and echoing through the woods.  A whoop.  Whatever else she might be feeling, she’d found escape and freedom in the hard run and the new toy, her companion chasing after her.  A bit raw, emotional, but not wholly or even halfway negative.

Beside her, Verona let out a breath, as if she was thinking and feeling the same thing.

All was not lost, and Avery was still Avery, and Lucy could let a bit of that tension slip away.