Author: Wildbow

Wild Abandon – 18.y | Pale

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She paused at the door, holding a compact up to examine hair and face.

In the background, girls were scream-shouting at one another.  One of the faculty was trying to keep the peace.  Trying and failing.

Outside, Marianne had escaped the argument early, once she’d realized nobody was on her side.  She sat on the stairs by the parking lot.

Lis removed two people from the group, and included three more from the younger class downstairs.

She staggered a bit after, pausing to lean against the wall.

Using the compact, she checked her appearance.

Younger, disarming, blonde like Marianne.

She let herself outside.  Marianne sat on the stairs, back to Lis, smoking.

“Are you okay?” Lis asked, in French.

Marianne jumped a bit, then hurriedly wiped at her eyes.  She replied, “Fine.  Trying to enjoy my last cigarette in peace without those shrill harpies screaming.  Can you go and shut that door the rest of the way?”

Lis shut the door, then walked down the steps, fishing in the slot in the lining of her skirt for lighter and cigarette.  Half the girls in the group smoked, so Lis had a lighter and half the usual amount of cigarettes that they kept on them- a slight slit in the hem of the uniform dress, and it was convenient to carry, sometimes with a pin to keep things from falling out.

“You were supposed to pay attention to the fact I wanted you to go,” Marianne said, shooting Lis a cold look.  The dark hid the redness of her eyes, but not the shine where tears hadn’t been imperfectly wiped away.  “And let me have this in peace.”

Lis lit her cigarette, then held out two.  She mumbled the words around the cigarette in her mouth, “If it’s not your last, you don’t need as much peace?”

Marianne looked at the cigarettes, looking resentful that she wanted to oblige, then took them.  She tucked them into the pocket of her uniform top, then looked at Lis.  “You don’t look like a smoker.”

“I would say if I have this in my mouth,” Lis replied, shrugging one shoulder.  “What do you think?  How could I look any more or less like a smoker?”

“Uh huh.  You look familiar.  Have I seen you before?”

“I blend into the background.”

“I wish I could.  They’re accusing me of being the poisoner.”

“So there’s a poisoner, a storyteller, a thief, and a saboteur.  There’s speculation that there’s role overlap.  So the poisoner could also be the thief,” Lis noted.

“Are you one of those?”

“No.  I blend into the background.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Stéphanie is the poisoner.  Usually.  All the details add up once you pay attention to who was where and when.”

“Stéphanie-” Marianne stopped herself.  “Do you know what the poisoner did?”

Lis nodded.  “She put the laxatives in Noémie’s coke.”

“Does she know what she started?  What’s happening because of that?”

“Why do you think she’s so scared?  Accusing everyone?”

Marianne looked like she was going to rise to her feet and storm inside.

Lis stopped her.  “Finish.  That was the deal, oui?”

“She was the first person the boys thought of when they thought something had happened to the product.”  The boys being the dealers that were supplying a subset of this school.  “She pointed the finger at someone else.”

“Who?”

Lis took a long drag on her cigarette, then used it to point at Marianne as she exhaled.

“They want access to you, to interrogate you,” Lis said.  “It’s why she’s trying to separate you from the pack.  She’s trying a lot of things.  Mess of a girl.”

“She’ll be a mess when I get through with her.”

“Or… you bait her.  Let her think she can get you like she got Noémie.  Rita has a camera that records…”

I only do this because you deserve it, Lis thought.  I am you.  I am your impulses, your ways of solving problems.  I have to do this, if I want to stay here, in my home, without someone realizing there’s one face more than there are beds in the dormitory.

A bit of chaos, put them at odds with one another, and let students come and go, and the counting will be too hard.

“Want to know what I know?” Lis asked.  “To put something in, she has to take something out.  She takes it out and puts it up her nose.”

“I don’t use coke.  This is the worst I do for contraband,” Marianne said, indicating the cigarette.

There was a shadow inside, passing between the lights inside and the two of them, and Marianne hid her cigarette, startled.

It wasn’t anything.  Marianne pretended she was too cool and indifferent, even though Lis had seen.

She hadn’t cared ten minutes ago.  She’d been ready to be caught and expelled, she’d been so dejected.  Now she cared enough to hide things.  From a secret detail and a bit of hope.

“Keep it to yourself then,” Lis said, “or if you have a friend who can use it…”

Marianne would make up with Emy, who would be her way to Sylvie, and through them they could target Stéphanie.

Who had given Lis a strange look and started to watch the crowd for faces she didn’t recognize.

Meanwhile, Marianne was the thief.

Getting her into the good graces of her friends again would inevitably lead to another fit of kleptomania.

“You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Didn’t I?” Lis asked, standing.

“You’re not in any of my classes.”

“Different year,” Lis said, getting a little squeeze of scented moisturizer out of the spot between her waistband and hip to get rid of the cigarette smell.

She dropped her cigarette, stepped on it, then kicked it toward the bushes by the stairs.

“What’s your name?”

Lis ignored her, walking into the dark.  Part poisoner, part storyteller, part thief, part saboteur, part other things.

Now, after Marianne had done her part, Lis would have to remove her too.

The moon exploded, and Miss emerged, a central figure.  Lis could track every line of the city, and saw them rise and fall like waves, the detritus Miss had brought with her sticking to them, changing shapes, stacking together into staircase shapes, things set higher than before.

It was a struggle, to account for everything.  A lot of what Lis did was foretold by spirits, the various things that could affect Kennet visible on the horizon, literally.  There was no warning for this, no easy guide.  Her powers and senses were restrained to things to do with the city, and that slowed her down further.

It didn’t help that there was so much to this.  She split her attention twenty different ways and she still missed details.  She was trying to turn paint she’d been provided into straight lines while Miss began her work by sloshing buckets of paint around.

There were guidelines.  The reinforcement work the girls had done to tie things to the perimeter and reinforce the shrines was key.  Lis could start at the perimeter, secure what was there.  There was a battery feeding into the shrines, strengthening the spirits at the perimeter so they could take Miss’s power and manage it, focusing it, using their familiarity with the city.  The power that leaked out from that was something Lis could use.

Verona’s week old Demesne, imperfectly established, and Matthew’s new one, they were guideposts.  Solid structure she could use for handholds, to seize this place.  Rook’s rooftop sometimes moved, so it was less stable, but it gave her starting points.  She started turning the paint into straight lines.  Everything was still Kennet, it was simply laid over a different topography.

Some of that was roads, layout, the map of the city in spirit.  But other things were being lifted up, then laid over different topography.  Finance, law, community, recreation.

And Lis was Kennet.  Finance ran through her veins, law and institution were her bones.  Her heart beat with community.  She worked her way through, taking it in an increasingly matter-of-fact way.  She had to incorporate Charles’ influence, his seat was here, and keeping him was a mutually beneficial relationship.

She claimed, extending her influence through a new dimension of Kennet.

Everything jarred.  She slipped, and her reaching grasp for the Demesnes and rooftop got her nothing except more imbalance, less claim.

By will, they’d been revoked.  Miss extended her own reach and her own claim, and took this new Kennet for herself.

Lis stumbled, swelled in stature, and reached out for the spirit, for claim, for everything she’d asserted as she took Kennet.  She reached for Charles’ power, that was now concentrated in his realm, but there for her if she really needed it-

The Carmine Exile seized her wrist.

She turned her attention to this new city that slipped from her grasp.  Then to him.

“They’re attacking us.”

“There’s an agreement,” he replied.  “They don’t interfere with me while I do what I can with Musser, and I don’t interfere with them.”

“That’s your agreement.”

He held onto her for long seconds, then released her.  “Then do it-”

She couldn’t spare the time to listen, fighting back, taking what she could, asserting herself.

“-without my power, at least.”

Her reach for his power was rebuffed.  Which set her back further, because it echoed through spirit like she’d just reached for something and struck a gong with her fingers.

Two out of the three handholds -the Demesnes- were obstacles now.  Spirits that flowed through Kennet were mindful of that- which meant the perimeter reflected it in subtle ways.

Miss took the new Kennet for herself, and the doors were closed to Lis.

Charles turned his focus elsewhere, leaving Lis in an incomplete control over Kennet.

Rumors of the arcade in Kennet below had spread.  Two middle school boys chose to have a living room campout, then quietly snuck out of the house and out toward the cinema, biking out to the theater to camp out and watch to see if anyone came and went, thinking they’d be school heroes if they could work out the mystery.

The Trenchcoat Mouse, en route from Kennet below to a spot in Kennet above, spotted the boys.  Three minutes passed before they caught wind of the scent of blood and gasoline and realized the Mouse was standing right behind them.

They fled, naturally.  The Trenchcoat mouse gave chase.  Naturally.

Zipped up in the tent that they had pitched in the living room, glad their original plans to camp outside had been foiled, they heard the door open and realized that it wasn’t locked.  Too terrified to scream, they remained where they were as they heard the wet, savage noises elsewhere on the ground floor.

An hour later, the Trenchcoat Mouse left the house.  The boys didn’t sleep.  When they emerged closer to morning, they found the fridge emptied, food strewn on the floor, bites taken out of every item inside.  The house had been robbed of tupperware, both the tupperware containers of leftovers in the fridge and the empty containers in the cupboard.  Much of the immediately edible food was placed within and carried away in a bag.

Some items were left behind, including scattered plastic sheeting, zip ties, two forgotten 100-packs of disposable razor blades, and a mostly empty champagne bottle.

When they got to school for their Friday classes, they tried telling people and nobody believed them for the entirety of their morning, first recess, and lunch hours.  It wasn’t until partway into the afternoon that one of their siblings corroborated the story.

The myth of the arcade started to grow.  Both Lucy Ellingson and Verona Hayward missed classes that day, so they weren’t available for comment or clarification.

The boys didn’t know and were unable to tell anyone that the champagne bottle had a severed finger in it.  But the police started asking questions.

Lis, tapped into both the bones of the city and the spirit world, saw a portion of that get cut short by connection blockers.  Lucy had set some up to block any investigations by authorities who might mistake her repeated injuries as some kind of abuse.

Lis was tempted to interfere.  As acting City Spirit, there were things she could do, but the roads she could travel were restricted.  It had to make sense for Kennet.  If she helped Kennet’s natural patterns to unfold, then she could generate power and claim.  If she went the wrong way, it cost.  If it cost her too much, even the low level spirits could flow in and evict her.

There was an incarnation of Authority about three and a half hours east, blunt featured, uniformed, dressed in purple, moving through crowds, invisible, subtle, and potent, just the same as Death could be a grim reaper, unseen, devastating, a touch unnoticed.  Authority did different work.

Kennet was missing authority.  It had felt the lack of leadership from town, from police, and in schools, for varying reasons.  The mayor didn’t know what was happening, the member of parliament in charge of the riding of Thunder Bay-Superior North didn’t pay much mind to Kennet, the both of them struggling with the knotting around Kennet, even if they didn’t realize it.  People made angry calls, both mayor and M.P. started to take steps, and then distractions would inevitably come.  Teachers and principals were reeling from nearly forty percent of their students leaving town.  The police had had their own debacles, an unresolved investigation into three missing teenagers, and a town that had been more intense and violent in the last three months than it had been in the prior three years- not helped by the fact they’d recently made the change away from a local police force to the provincial one, and the knotting interfered with that too.

It created a vacuum.  The vacuum was a currency that could be used to pay certain forces, because they too had roads they had to travel, ways they sustained themselves, and things they wanted to pay for.  Just like Alpeana, they were constantly on the lookout for wrinkles and snarls in the fabric of things, and they sustained themselves by tending to those things.

That spirit of Authority had once been two individuals, the old Authority, stiff and becoming mechanical as it lacked the ability to keep up with and adapt to the modern day, and a man in charge of a school, stern, loathed, old school, with people waiting for him to retire.  Just as bad at home.  The old Authority had come to him at a low point, offering a deal.  He had taken it, on the condition he’d be given the chance to bring his daughter to heel.  His words.

That made the bargaining harder.  Lis could invite him over, but he’d want to be close to his daughter and she wasn’t nearby.

If he did come, he could trample past those connection blockers, and he could make institutions into forces.  But asking and being refused was one of the wrong things she could do that would cost her.  Just like it had been when she’d been fighting Miss over Kennet found and the Carmine Exile hadn’t let her take the power she’d reached for.

It would be nice to have someone to talk to.  Authority wouldn’t be the nicest personality, but she could deal with that.  He’d at least be someone who had an experience a lot like hers.  Being one thing, taking a deal, becoming-

She didn’t want to say greater.

A part of things.

Spirit was mutable, and Lis could stand as tall as Kennet’s greatest peak, and see things in terms of relative power.  She could see other settlements, and the subtle flows of money, people, power, spirit, and resources.  She could see distant Authority, and Shelter, and signs of the Judges.  She could see spirits move like bad weather and clear sunny patches near the horizon.

She was still small- very small compared to Toronto, Thunder Bay, or the cities in America, across the lake, just south of Kennet.  She could be the town itself, buildings, roads, and trees, or she could be Ken, be Nettie, or some other aspect of the town.

Well, almost Ken.  Things had changed since he’d been here.  Many young people had left.  Others were defeated.

And the rolling ramifications of Kennet found being established… they rolled.

Lis wore a shape that cost her to maintain, because it meant power traced its way through lines that weren’t quite Kennet-shaped.  The shape was her original one, or as close to it as she could get.  The school uniform of St. Victor’s, dark brown hair.

When Lis had been born into the private school environment, it had been the style to take the idea of being ‘cool’ a step further and wear a kind of cold indifference, laced with resentment.  She wore that attitude very, very well, right now.  She slouched in a seat made of spiritstuff that was simultaneously an old chair and also Kennet itself, taller buildings bracing her back, while she sat on lesser ones, watching with a bird’s eye view.

Luna Hare crossed Kennet above, wearing her mask.  She got looks.  Too early for halloween, people said.

Liberty Tedd had flashed her sharp teeth days ago.

Tatty had organized a ‘mastermind’ plan and got lesser goblins that had come in with America Tedd to place long, oblong stones propped up against two round ones, all along the shore.  People had noticed on their way from home to work.

In Kennet below, a Foundling with a ceiling fan surrounding his head, blades just in front of his face, was trying to drink with some denizens of the undercity.  The spinning fan blades turned the beer into a spray, which he desperately tried to drink, while others laughed, took bets, and debated whether it was better to pour closer to the center or try an angle.

Nettled, Lis stood from her seat.

In one of the cabins, the technomancer Freeman had taken a dozen cheap computers and phones he’d found and bought and dismantled them, screens arranged in a circle around a center screen.  As lines appeared on each, Lis felt the spirits align with the city’s ebbs and flows.  City magic, backed by technomancy.

It cost, to come when she wasn’t invited.  Another little thing.  She gathered spirit together and paid that price, used her willpower to wield spiritstuff, and put on a jacket over her school uniform, and stepped across Kennet, from Spirit World to Kennet above, all in one stride.

The Carmine Exile anticipated her.  He was everywhere, in a way, and so it was trivial for him to be in her way before she could finish taking the one step.  She stopped short.

Her frustration churned up spirit and made the surroundings reflect Kennet below at its worst- blood and bodies in alleyways, beheaded birds tacked to walls, child’s drawings on surfaces low to the ground.

Charles’ influence concentrated the redder aspects of that around him.

She had a vivid recollection of meeting him.  A mess of a doppleganger looking down at a forsworn beggar.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What are you doing?  You’re not in charge of me, Carmine Exile.  Kennet is my domain.  I’m managing my domain.  Don’t interfere again.”

“You’re risking being bound.”

“I’m not a moron, Carmine.  You know that, right?  I thought it was why you invited me to help you.  You had me take Kennet, this job I’m doing right now, to hand you your position, help secure your success.”

“Mmm.”  The texture of his voice made the sound a growl.

“Then you had me stand down, while they founded the other Kennet.”

“I had to.”

“And now I’m a spirit of two thirds of a town.  They slapped my hand away.  If you’re not going to help me, at least get out of my way.”

“I will help you.  But be patient.”

“If he finishes that diagram, I’ll be called by force.  It’s safer to go now than to be summoned.  You wanted my help, my cunning?  Let me be cunning.”

Charles looked, and she could see how he looked across Kennet, past walls, past some wards, into the cabin.

“Alright.”

She moved on, brushing past and through him.

Alarms blared and red lights turned on as soon as she stepped into the cabin.  Freeman did a one hundred and eighty degree swivel in his chair.  He’d hung his coat over the back of it, and it flared out some.  His arms were bare but tattooed, with ‘PHREAK’ on one arm.  His hair was slightly greasy, tied back into a badly done ponytail, the badly done bits kept up and out of his face by sunglasses.  The ring of monitors connected by wires and rough bits of metal sat on the wall behind him.

“You’re supposed to come after the summoning,” Freeman told her.  “Not during.”

He was pretending to be calm and casual, hands-off.  But she could sense the diagrams were still in the works.  Technomancy let him automate processes, and the flows of the city still ran through the systems.  When it finished, it would ensnare her, forcing her spirit body here, into a circle on the floor, which had wires running from the ceiling to the loop on the floor.

She walked around the circle, looking down.

When she passed behind the wires, she made a change.  She reached out, connecting to him, to the other practitioners, and to a subset of Kennet’s tech companies.  There were four small businesses, and two stores that sold electronics, one of which was run by a man named Gregory Loudermilk, a bit of a goof and a poor salesman of the low-to-midrange computers he sold, but he knew technology.  So did the various employees at the companies.

People who knew technology, practitioners.  She tailor-made a version of herself to match the technomancer Freeman.  Lis stretched his shoulder a bit.

“I wanted to talk,” Freeman said, studying Lis intently.

“Could’ve just asked.”  But you wanted to imprison and interrogate me, to see if you could decipher the three-layered puzzle that is this town.

“Okay.  Can we talk?”

Lis crossed the room, picked up a chair from beside a table that still had dirty dishes on it, and he carried it over, sitting backwards across it.  Mannerisms, behavior- he could pull from them to take the best aspects he needed from the people.  He shifted proportions, and little details moved and changed.  In his eyes, he could see how his eyes had the reflection of the technology behind Freeman in them.  The screens glowed, nondescript, but Lis was aware the snare was being woven around him.

He smiled at Freeman.  “Sure.”

“What are we missing?”

“How long do you have?” Lis asked, with a playful sort of snideness.  “Days, weeks?”

“I don’t think we have days or weeks,” Freeman told her.  “What does it take to get you to call off the Turtle Queen?”

Lis explored the sentiments held by the various practitioners she’d absorbed into his current form, head tilting.  He smiled.  “The others seem to think you’ve got a handle on it.  Why not keep handling it, earn your way into their good books?”

“You know why,” Freeman replied.  “It’s in both of our interests if they don’t panic, isn’t it?  Because if they realize they’re caught between a tenacious and willful Bugge and wilderness out there…”

“Cornered rats,” Lis concluded the thought.

“It came up in the Driscoll’s notes.  The city spirit, which is you, I believe, controls two thirds of Kennet.  Why not every part of it?  I thought, okay.  That stands out,” Freeman said.  “Maybe a weak point.  Something worth probing.”

He was buying time for the program to finish compiling.  Lis reached out into the nerves of the town, then, simultaneous with standing up, cut the power and internet.

Every monitor flashed red with a fresh alert, alarms setting off, a technomancy-made generator in the corner screaming its way to life.  Freeman, in the same moment, leaped to his feet, pulling out a technomancy stun gun.

The power came back on.

“Don’t do that again.”

Lis did it again, but far subtler this time.  A fraction of a millisecond of interruption this time.  Alerts came up, then died down.

He felt out, sensing where that snare was closing and spirits were aligning, then did it a third time, subtle again.

“Your mistake,” Lis told Freeman, “is you’re underestimating this town.  All of you are.  This is a distillation of the issue, isn’t it?  You call on the city spirit, thinking that your textbooks say that they’re oblivious, preoccupied, average in intelligence.”

“And you’re not.”

On the fourth attempt, a one-two punch of interruptions, Lis sensed the systems struggle back into their processes, but something was broken, desynced, or corrupted now.

Technomancy could be fragile.  It could be used to make shortcuts, but that cut both ways.  There were shortcuts through, around, and in it.

“Most are oblivious about practice because they represent towns that are oblivous about practice.  But… here we are.  Two boys go looking for a haunted arcade the teenagers at the high school have been talking about, and find the Trenchcoat Mouse.  Magic creeps in.  Everyone in this town has noticed things.  The weird moon, the row of stone penises by the water, the rumors of haunting downtown, from our big influx of wraiths and spirits.  Something feels off to them.  The way it was so hard to get back in, easy to leave.”

“And you represent that increasing awareness.”

“I do,” Lis said.  “Among other things.”

“The Turtle Queen.  If this keeps up, the guys who’re still around, they’ll lash out.  They’re likely to attack innocents.  That would hurt you, sir.”

“I don’t have any say,” Lis told him.  “The Turtle Queen isn’t mine to control.”

“That’s a problem.  Who does control her?”

“The Turtle Queen.”

“Ah,” Freeman said.  He sat back down, glancing at his computers.  The warning messages had cleared themselves away as the program had resumed.  It was still imbalanced, something missing.  He’d notice if he paid attention to it, but Lis had his focus.

“Is there anything else you need?” Lis asked, sardonic.

“A Bugge running rampant?” Freeman asked.

“They think she’s cooperating.”

“Do you think she isn’t?”

“I think they’re wrong about a lot of things.”

“And you reap the consequences, sir?” Freeman asked.

“Like someone attempting to summon and bind me, to try to find a way forward?” Lis asked.

“Yeah.  Dumb question, I guess,” Freeman said.  He rubbed the scruff on his chin.  “They’re wrong, you say.  Two thirds of this town are yours.  One third is… theirs?”

Lis stood up, turned the chair around, and sat down again, ankle resting on knee, hands on his shin.  “I think they’re wrong, to be absolutely clear.”

“My mistake.  Two thirds is still a majority, though.  Couldn’t you rebuke them?  Deny them access to those two thirds?”

“Costly.”

“But doable?” Freeman asked.

“Maybe.  But I don’t intend to do that.  Not with the prices I’d pay.  Both the power it would cost me and the consequences.  I’m not dumb, Freeman.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Freeman said, eyebrows drawing together.  “But I’m thinking we should try finding out.”

He turned, swiveling in the chair.  He hit the enter key.

The diagram his programs had been finishing was laser-etched into the center of the circle.  The lines flared-
and blew out.  A scorch mark blew through the metal hoop the wires were attached to, some wires came undone, and electricity sputtered for a few seconds.  The smell of burning plastic filled the air.

Freeman looked at the devastation, glanced back at the machines, and then turned to look at Lis, stun gun ready.

Lis smiled and cut the power.

Freeman’s eyes glowed with Sight, and he looked for Lis in the dark, while the generator screamed its way back into action.  Lis stepped into the realm of spirit, then stepped back into the corner.

“Musser didn’t do a good job of arming you all with knowledge, did he?” Lis asked, keeping the smoking, sparking diagram and its wires between himself and Freeman.  He picked a combination of features, becoming a woman.  From behind Freeman, she asked, “What I am?”

“Doppleganger.”  Freeman whirled around, eyes struggling to adjust.  He squinted as the lights came back on.  Lis restored the power, which made the generator stop automatically running.

“Correct, but not the answer I was hoping for.”  Lis cut the power again, killing the lights, and getting the generator going.

“Fuck,” Freeman swore.

Lis stepped away, back again.  Became a child as he said,  “Did he tell you what I did, before?  When I was a doppleganger?  The old days?”

“Assassinated Witch Hunters,” Freeman said.  He anticipated the attack coming from behind.

But Lis had relocated to the chair she’d pulled out.  Became an amalgamation of every old woman in Kennet.  In a cigarette rasp, she said,  “Before then.”

Freeman pointed the stun gun at her, needles poking out, ready to shoot electricity through her.  Spirits pulsed inside the weapon.

“I don’t know,” Freeman said.

Lis became the tech-geek practitioner hybrid again.  A match and loose mirror to Freeman.  “A schemer.  A conniver.”

Freeman, seeing Lis still, eased back down into his seat.  The plastic of the computer chair squeaked under his weight.  He kept the magic stun gun at his knee.  “Okay.”

“Conventions of practice,” Lis started, pulling on practitioner voices to accentuate the words and sound a little more crisp and full of himself, “are that a city spirit will give certain powers and capabilities in exchange for offerings.  The same as any spirit.”

Freeman nodded.

“So offer to do me a favor.”

“I would like to do you a favor.  Dealing with them.  Who have one third of your town.”

Lis gathered up idea and intent and converted it into spirit, then converted spirit into words on a page that resembled the Kennet newsletter.  “Some asshole is currently recording a podcast about all the paranormal and weird things happening in Kennet.  This is what it’s sunken to.  At this rate, we risk being a tourist destination for all the weird things that are happening.”

She threw the paper sideways, and the air currents in the room helped carry it to Freeman.

He caught it, looking.  Each article in this special, Lis only edition of the Kennet Kaller was about supernatural happenings.

“A haunted arcade is said to be set up in the cinema after hours, but nobody has been able to find any sign of it, or figure out who set it up.  Some of the games are described as being lethally dangerous,” Lis paraphrased the first article.

“Okay.  Isn’t this attention good for you?  Tourism is incoming money and people, that’s power for Kennet.”

“It’s power for them.  Growth under their control.  No.  Word is spreading, it’s getting mythologized.  It’s even being talked about elsewhere.  Second article?”

“Her days are numbered,” Freeman recited the headline.

“Trinity ‘Trin’ Conway is a special kind of doomed.  There’s people who are doomed, with cancer, old age, disease, circumstance.  But the powers that be have decided to make an example of this eighteen year old.”

“The Judges?”

“No.  Broader.  Fate, Disaster, and Desolation,” Lis said, putting a capital on the three words.  A major pillar and two lesser ones.

“Sounds like she’s fucked,” Freeman said, eyes scanning the article.

“Doing something wrong makes it easier for Other forces to pick you out for whatever it is they need to do.  Goblins are more likely to make you a victim, so will spirits, free curses, and the pillars.  Death, War, Fate, Nature, Time…”

“I am aware,” Freeman said, with irony in his voice.

“In Kennet below, the Bitter Street Witch even did a card reading, while learning from her new mentor.  She saw something about Trin, and dismissed it as unimportant.”

“Was it?”

“To her.  See, Trin found out her mom had an affair.  Trashed her mom’s car, tried to set the seats on fire and couldn’t, so she poured cleaning chemicals from the cart at the motel into the inside.  Her mother thought that was all she did, decided not to go to the police.  But Trin also went after Cody Phillips, the man her mom was with during the affair.  With her friends, and friends of friends who are some of the worst people that age in Kennet above, she and the rest of the group trashed his house while it was empty.”

“And?  What does this have to do with me?  Got the attention of something?”

“Wasn’t the right Cody Phillips.  She went looking for the name, found it in the phone book, but it was the elderly uncle of the man she really wanted.  Word gets around a small town, students at school talked, realized, some left town and without their friends there to pressure them, their guilty consciences got the better of them.  They talked.  Indictable offenses, fines, time in an adult prison, a further shattering of her home life, friendships, and worse is awaiting Trin Conway.  And she knows it’s imminent.  Nowhere and no way to run.  A cop at the door or a phone call and she’s gone.  She’s afraid to go home.

“Nice, convenient, easy way for Desolation, Disaster, and Fate to balance ledgers, putting everything on the head of a reckless, upset teenage girl with her life ahead of her.”

“And?” Freeman asked, though he’d read to the end.

“And while she sat at the tire swing in the backyard of a vacant property, a girl with numbers counting down in her eyes sat down with her.  They’re friends.  Now Trin is Aware, with a Fate-and-Disaster centric Other as her friend, and she might evade the exaggerated consequences awaiting her.  She’s started talking to the old Mr. Phillips, whose house she helped ransack, ruin, and burglarize.  She hasn’t outright confessed yet, but he knows, she suspects he knows, and if she makes amends she’ll dodge the consequences.”

“Okay.  Urban legend.  Countdown Cassandra was in Basil’s notes.  That’s two out of three.”

“Third, the thinner line between Innocent and Aware is being breached.  People saw the bleeding moon, there are stories circulating.  New, strange sights are everywhere.  People wearing masks even though it isn’t Halloween.  In a town of five thousand people- now three thousand in Kennet above, it gets so you can recognize a lot of faces.  But lots of people are seeing strangely intimidating faces they don’t recognize, or strangely dressed people.  A lot of people feel like they’re getting half the story.”

“Which they are.”

“They’ve started looking for information online.  It won’t take much for them to find it.  Three things, that’s three favors.  I’d be obligated to provide, and if I was obligated, the locals couldn’t fault me if I gave protections, permissions, or power to the asker.”

“Transferable?”

“We’ll see.”

“You can’t see what’s in Kennet found, can you?”

Lis declined to answer.

“That’s a big blind spot.  And you don’t like that it’s starting to leak out.”

“Intermingling.  People from Kennet above can stumble into Kennet below, or even get glimpses of Kennet found, when the conditions are right.  Denizens of Kennet below can go to either of the other realms.  And Kennet found has Foundlings wandering in and out.  I don’t like it.  It weakens my influence.  Give me influence, I’ll give you the same.”

Freeman nodded.  “So.  Arcade?”

“I leave it to you.  It’s a symbol of the problems I’d rather root out.”

“Want Countdown Cassandra dealt with?”

“Or see things through.”

“And you don’t want the rumors spreading online?  I can block.”

“No.  I have other ideas there.  But let’s see to the first two.  I’ll have to handle other things before I can give clearer instructions.”

“Do you mind if I start looking for them in the Digital Aether?  The ones who are poking around?”

“So long as you hold off.  Keep tabs on them.  Nothing else.”

Freeman nodded.  “Dangerous game to be playing.”

“I’ll manage.  I’ve always managed.”

Lis stood, picked up the chair, and put it back.  He gave the summoning circle on the ground a meaningful look.  “Next time?  Ask, don’t summon.”

He stepped back into his center of power in the spirit world.  Past Charles, who was everywhere and saw everything.

Almost everything.

They had blind spots and that was becoming more and more pressing an issue.

Lis had only a dim memory of the topography, but it was enough for her to navigate most of the way to the Arena.  Her spirit was physical, animus like the Dog Tags, and she was largely disconnected from the city.  Her breath fogged in the air, and her eyes rotated through different lighting as she looked around- mostly the orange lights of a house interior in the dark.

She reached a gate with a puzzle inset into it.  She was close enough to see the Arena, and see the people sitting around a table at the center of it.

One of them got up and ran over to her.

“Hello!” said the girl in the rabbit mask.

Luna Hare.

“Am I being kept out?”

“It’s a simple test to see if you know those people present.  I can’t help but notice you seem unmasked and you don’t have permission papers to enter.”

“Every face I wear is a mask.”

“I see.  I- okay.  And the papers?”

Miss came, getting up from the table and slipping away.

Walking up here.

“It’s fine, Luna.  We’ll waive it.”

“Are you sure?  Because-”

Miss opened the gate, and the girl with the rabbit mask fell silent.

Lis walked in, Miss walking beside her.

“You’re upset,” Miss remarked.  “Is there an emergency?”

“No emergency beyond the usual.”

“We’ve already started discussing Musser.  Have you come to contribute?”

“Only to observe,” Lis said.

They’d last interacted in that struggle over the new Kennet.  Lis waited for Miss to remark, say something.

But there was only that ‘you’re upset’.

And no seat for her.  Luna stepped aside, leaving her chair empty, but Lis didn’t want to sit there, in Miss’s section, so she remained standing.

No Lucy, but she knew that already.  Just Verona at the center of the one length of the triangular table.

“I remember when someone posted the two hundred rules for being a supervillain on the message board in the break room where I used to work,” Louise said.

“Wait what?” Verona asked.  “Why?”

“Clearly she was working for supervillains,” Mallory said.

“It was a time before your average Joe and Janes used social media, believe it or not,” Louise said.  “And we were truckers, so we were very average Joes and Janes.  My point is, we’re getting sidetracked-”

“Us?  Sidetracked?” Verona interrupted.

“-Please.  One of the rules was a supervillain needed to be able to explain their grand plan to a child.  If the child can poke holes in it or can’t understand it, reconsider the plan.  And in this situation, sitting here, I see one of my jobs as being that child.”

“Not especially flattering to yourself,” Toadswallow said.

“I know I don’t understand all of this.  So let me ask some of the obvious questions.  We’ve been having a back and forth about what to do about the current invaders.  Whether they’ll go quiet, if they’ll fight, if the Turtle Queen will eventually handle them, or if there’s another way.  Okay.  But while we’re debating that, we’re avoiding the question of Abraham Musser.  Let’s pretend we can get rid of the rest.  If it was Musser alone, could we deal with him?”

Guilherme spoke up, “At the very least, I believe the man is avoiding the question of us.  Which is to our advantage.”

“Is that your way of saying ‘good job’?” Verona asked.

“It’s not saying you did a bad job,” Guilherme said.

“Whoo!” Verona cheered.

“It’s closer to a compliment than anything I’ve gotten in the last few days of training,” Bracken said.

“Whoo!” Verona repeated the cheer.

“You’ve proven a thorn in his sides.  Now that he has thorns under his nails, and more studding his path, he’s not eager for one more.  He’d rather deal with the most pressing of issues.  It’s one of the best positions we could hope for, now.”

A lot of them looked happy, satisfied.  There was an element of exhaustion among them.

“That’s more Charles than you, isn’t it?” Lis asked.

“Excuse you?  The fuck?” the Vice Principal asked.

“And Maricica.  It’s them that provided the distraction and gave you an out.  It’s them that are putting in the work to dismantle Musser’s empire.”

“I think we can be proud we’ve dealt with Anthem, America, and that we held our own and finished the ritual,” Louise said.  “We did those things on our own.”

“With Charles’ permission.  He gave you that leeway.”

“Who invited her?” the Vice Principal asked.

“I let her in,” Miss replied.  “I thought she could contribute, and that we wouldn’t lose anything by having another voice.  Even if it’s an unfriendly one.”

“Shitty call, that, huh?” the Vice Principal asked.  “Huh?”

“I can contribute,” Lis interjected.  “Louise asked a question.  Could you deal with Musser if it was you all together against him?  I don’t think you could.  I’d wonder if Rook, Guilherme, Horseman, or anyone with a keen mind for strategy and confrontations would disagree?”

Nobody disagreed.

“That’s sobering,” Louise said.  “But it’s a good thing to answer, I think, because it changes what we’re discussing.  Why is he so strong, and can we get around that?”

Lis answered, “There are tricky solutions, I know you’re capable of those, but there’s also an inverse to that.  You can call it the stubbornly unsolvable.  The institutional.  If you met Death himself tonight, you could not stop Death outright.  You can postpone, you can avoid, you can take yourself out of the game as Matthew’s father tried to do-”

She indicated Matthew.

“-but Death continues.  Musser is very, very close to being that.”

“Can we unravel that?” Verona asked.  “Ask why?”

“When people bigger and with more resources than you couldn’t?  When Toronto folded?  When his family has been doing what they’ve been doing for generations, aggressively, and nobody’s toppled them yet?  You don’t have any time, do you?  Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Awfully negative outlook,” the Bitter Street Witch said, sitting crooked in her seat.

“Realistic outlook.”

“Same thing,” the Bitter Street Witch said.

“Actually, it’s a myth that depressed people see the world more accurately,” Verona said.  “No, nevermind.  We’re getting sidetracked.”

“You’re getting sidetracked, and backtracking,” Mallory commented, quiet.

“There is a solution,” Lis told them, before the chatter could overwhelm discussion.

She had their full attention now.

“You can’t topple Musser now, and even if you did, I don’t think you could take credit for it any more than you can take credit for him leaving town when he did.  The Carmine Exile has been working at the question of Musser since before he became Carmine.  He’s on his way to solving it.  Breaking the institution.  So join him.  Join us.”

“Charles is also fucking shit up left and right,” Verona replied.

“Including causing problems for us we’re only just now patching,” Miss said.

“This?” Lis asked.  “Kennet found?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what else could have patched it?  Asking.  Joining.  But you don’t, and why?  Because of ideology?  Your feelings are hurt your original plan was discarded and this plan is working?  Others are entering this world now, and speaking from my own experience, I’d rather I’d entered Charles’ world than Musser’s.  None of the new Others will care about how things were done, so long as they’re born into a world where they’re free and have power.”

“They’re being born into a world that’s violent and savage by default,” Miss replied.  “Is that so much better?”

Lis glanced at Rook as one of the faces she surveyed as she took in the people sitting a the three-sided table.

“Yes,” she said, and she knew Rook agreed.

But others didn’t.  She knew that she wasn’t reaching the people who she most needed to reach.

She knew some were on the fence.  She’d watched from a bird’s eye view for long enough now to know there was uncertainty, and an exhaustion that made it easy to think about alternatives- giving control to those with the ability to wield it.

“I’ve said what I want to say.  You all know where to find me.”

“Is this the next part of your slapfight?” Maricica asked.

The blood goddess floated closer to Lis, who sat at her seat at the peak of Kennet’s spirit world, on a tall building, overlooking things.  The foggy expanse beneath the building had a clear patch in it, and through that patch, she could see Trin and the Countdown Cassandra running from two groups.

The police sought Trin.  Freeman and the other practitioners sought Countdown Cassandra.

Every turn they made through an unfamiliar part of the city, they seemed to find themselves faced with one or the other.

Maricica hovered near Lis, watching as she watched.

“You invited me, and you won’t say a word to me?” Maricica asked.

“It’s not a slapfight, but if I protest, you’ll use it to nettle at me some more.”

“You took Miss’s dream of Kennet from her-”

“We did.”

“We did.  In exchange, she created a new Kennet, and she didn’t let you have it.  Now you’re annoyed that her Kennet is leaking into yours, the narrative and atmosphere of the area is twisting to suit her, and you’re using our enemies to target her.  A slapfight.”

“Better our enemies are now focused on her and her allies instead of us.  And it keeps them occupied with other things,” Lis replied.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“Not you specifically.  You and the others together.  We, again, key word, we’re in this together.  I’m surprised you didn’t come here acting like you know what my plan is already, with three spins to put on it.”

“I’ve unshackled myself from that exhausting existence,” Maricica murmured.  “Is it what you wanted to show us?”

Charles’ shadow swept over the space as he made his entrance.  The sky in the spirit world shifted, the sun moving, shadows becoming long, and the sky turned the sort of red reserved for special sunsets after volcanic eruptions and bombings.

Lis watched as Trin separated from Countdown Cassandra.  Trin faced the practitioners.

“What do you want with me!?” Trin shouted.  There was a note of panic in her voice.  “Why are you following me!?”

“Make yourself at home,” Lis told Charles.

“I am home,” he said, in that growl he got when he was weary.  He looked down at the scene.  “Whittling them down, are you?”

“Steps,” Lis replied.  “I’m no Fae, I know that, but I can take steps toward a greater plan.  Unless you expect me to stand down and leave everything alone, again?”

“I don’t.  But can you tell us why you’ve called us?  You’re playing coy with Maricica already.”

“Is Edith coming?  I know her part in this is mostly past, but as a question of respect…”

“I can invite her,” Charles said.  He stood taller, then swept out his carmine fur coat with one hand, baring his shoulder, ribs, red armpit hair, and the side of his stomach for a moment.  He pulled the coat in closer, and when he did, Edith was standing there, a third of their size.

“That looks just like stage magic,” Maricica said.  “I’m not sure if I should add or deduct points for style.”

“What is this?” Edith asked.

“I did text you,” Lis said.  She gestured, and made Edith’s phone light up.

“And I declined to reply.  It didn’t look like an emergency.”

“Is it an emergency?” Charles asked.

“No.  But we should talk.  We’re operating on a different scale now.  I know how easy it can be to stumble when that happens,” Lis said.  “Look.  Of us three, we aren’t limited to one size, and we can interpret ourselves as larger, smaller, even change our shape and features.”

“If we so chose.  I’m tired of always changing,” Maricica said.

“Fine.  That’s fine,” Lis said.  “But if you then look at Edith?  We’ve lost perspective.  We match each other in size, but if we use Edith James as a yardstick…”

“Is that the only reason I’m here, infant sized in comparison to you all?” Edith asked.

“No.  Not the only reason,” Lis said.  She matched Edith in scale, and Maricica and Charles followed suit.  “I thought you’d want to be included.”

“What I want is what I was promised,” Edith said.  “I’m really trying to be patient.  I know that’s not you, Lis.”

Edith glanced at Maricica’s back, as Maricica peered over the fence.  Lis looked, to supplement her greater awareness with a clear view of the events.

The practitioners knocked Trin Conway out with a blow to the head.  Then they went after Miss’s little urban legend, Countdown Cassandra.

Figments of Fate, Disaster, and Desolation stood over the teenager.  Not true incarnations.  Nothing a practitioner would see.  Just… strong shadows.

Lis made the way easier, bringing the two officers to Trin Conway.  Only because the blow to the head had caused a subarachnoid hemmorhage, and Trin was on her way to dying as a result.

She made another adjustment, this time to the time scales and patterns within the police station as the call went in.  They reported that that they’d found her, and four people were in earshot, because of Lis.

One, Lis saw, took on the task of calling an ambulance.  Just in case.

If it was just the two, they might have assumed drugs.  She’d watched them before.  They were prone to that sort of conclusion.

And the practitioners found Countdown Cassandra.

Goblins had been assigned to watch them, those goblins had found people who were awake and willing to act.  The time window closed.

It wouldn’t be enough.  Countdown Cassandra had read the flows of Fate and Disaster, looked forward to an intersection, and it was fourteen minutes from now.

They named the place she’d originated, the event that had spurred her into first action, and then they recited those who’d met disaster because of her, in order.

It had the effect of making her stay put.

To get out, she’d need them to get something wrong, she’d need the clock to run down -twelve minutes now- or she’d need the goblins to bring the Dog Tags.

None of those three things happened.  While some recited names that had been in Basil’s notes, the others drew the circle of chalk around her, and invoked Solomon.

Binding her.  Words were said, and she was captured on blank pages, trapped between plates of metal, and the metal plates were bound together, pages pressed so tight together they were almost one mass.

“That it?” the Carmine Exile asked.

“That won’t go over well with the Kennet Others,” Edith noted.  “Binding.”

“That’s the point,” Lis said.  “They need to know there’s no cooperation with Musser’s faction.”

“What did you want, Lis?” the Carmine Exile asked.  Then he held up a finger.  “No, I do know what you want.  Besides that.”

She wanted Kennet.  She wanted security.  She wanted the Carmine Exile to succeed.

It felt like they were out of reach of that.

“We’re getting too far apart, when alone our perspectives skew.  Together, I know we aren’t all in perfect alignment, but I think we’re stronger,” Lis said.  “I believe in groups.”

“Which doesn’t answer my question.  Unless you mean you wanted to talk?”  The Carmine Exile framed the statement as a question.

“Are you aware they’re actively planning against us?” Lis asked.

“I would be surprised if they weren’t thinking of something along those lines.  They’re enemies,” Edith said.

“I know they’re thinking about it.  But they’re planning,” Lis told the other three.  “The Founding was a coordinated effort.  I went to last night’s meeting, since Edith has abandoned the job of keeping an eye on them.”

“I was evicted.”

“Not condemning,” Lis said.  “I’m only saying.  I attended.  You could see it as reassuring that someone’s doing this.  Making sure we know what they’re up to.”

“I’m aware,” Charles said.

“And you’re aware of the plotting?” Lis asked.  “The coordination during the Founding?  That was discussed in advance.  You stopping me was a big part of this, but they didn’t improvise that.”

“It’s possible.”

“Where have they been that’s out of your reach?”

“The Paths.”

“Matthew didn’t go to the Paths, not until they took Elizabeth Driscoll there.  And didn’t he decide on his own to do the Demesne ritual?”

Edith shook her head, scowling.

“He did,” the Carmine Exile said, watching Edith carefully.  Lis watched him with the same careful eye.

“I expected you to squawk again about wanting Matthew,” Maricica said.

“I do.  But I think he’s out of reach, and you can say you fulfilled the letter of our agreement, fine, but you ignored the spirit, and if you’re going to do that, fine.  Shame on me, trusting a Faerie.  But don’t act friendly with me,” Edith said.

Maricica touched ground, toes in the pool of blood beneath her.  She crouched, sitting on her ankles, and even shrunken down to scale, she towered over Edith enough a deep crouch and duck of the head was necessary to meet Edith’s eyes.

“Do you want me to stop being friendly?” Maricica asked, her stare intense and unblinking.  “Do you want to see what happens when a new goddess of blood is unfriendly?”

“Don’t bicker,” the Carmine Exile said.  “We swore oaths, we’re in this together.”

Maricica pulled back, menace gone, and she smiled.  “Of course.”

“They’re coordinating,” Lis said, quiet.  “On the Paths, maybe.  Or by some practice they set up before Charles became Carmine.  I attended the meeting, and Miss had so little to say, when she lost what she did.  Normally they would have to talk around a subject.  The subject of you, Charles.”

“I see I’ve become ‘Charles’ again, when not long ago I was ‘the Carmine Exile’.”

Maricica smiled.

“They didn’t talk around the subject.  They ignored it.  And the ability to ignore something like that, it comes from security.  They think they have time, and they think they have ways forward.  Verona was depressed earlier, and then she seemed giddy, at the meeting.”

“I saw,” Charles said.

He could see into Kennet found, even when she couldn’t.

That annoyed her.

“I can see it now.  Something changed in her.”

“She has a plan,” Maricica said.

“I thought it was a point worth raising,” Lis said.  “Calling this meeting.  Making everyone aware.”

Charles looked at Maricica.

“It’s valid.”

That, too, nettled at Lis.  “She’s not a Faerie anymore, Charles.”

“She still has the experience and skills.”

“She’s drunk on power.  Stupid with it.”

“You’re not wrong,” Maricica said.  “Still smarter than you.”

“It’s temporary,” Charles said.

“We should act now, everything we want to do, before they can scheme in private and find a way to get to us.”

“Their scheming is happening in nightmare,” Maricica said.

Lis narrowed her eyes.  “You knew?”

Maricica smiled.  “I only just now thought of it.  It’s the natural conclusion.  Not quite your province, Charles.”

“I could make a request of the Sable Prince, but making it mine would alert Alpeana,” Charles said.  He sat in Lis’s chair.  “Hmmm.”

“The goblins currently exist in Kennet above and Kennet below by my sufference,” Lis said.  “If I revoke certain protections Ken put in place-”

“No,” Charles said.

“We can take Toadswallow, the goblin market, the rest of the goblins, Liberty Tedd’s power, and Liberty and America’s support away from them.  America Tedd should go stir crazy without her goblins visiting.”

“It’s a declaration of war,” Edith said.  “I’m not a strategist, but I can see that much.”

“Then I think we should declare war,” Lis said.

“Patience, you can keep doing what you’re doing, so long as it doesn’t trace back to you,” Charles said.

Lis shook her head.  “Patience why?”

“We’ll see soon.  Excuse me.  Someone’s asked for an audience.  I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Oh?” Maricica asked.  “Anything amusing?”

“No.  An appeal over a decision that was once made over a contest.”

Charles stepped away.  His departure made the clouds part, and when they rolled across the sky, they wiped away the redness, leaving faint streaks behind.

“Are you managing, Edith?”

“Do you really care?”

“I am asking.”

“Barely.  I’ve got nothing to show for my life, this past decade.  My family is exhausting.  But even when I find a chance to take a moment away from their questions, suggestions, and expectations, I get summoned here, where you three are powers that be.  With influence over realms, changing shapes, immortal, aware of greater considerations.”

“Partial realm,” Lis said.

“Boo fucking hoo,” Edith said.  “I lost my home.  You get overwhelming power over a town and its undercity mirror.”

“You need only ask, Edith,” Maricica said.  “You could be a goddess of fire.”

“I know I need only ask.  I don’t want it.  I don’t think I’ve ever met a happy member of the powers that be.  I’m already miserable, I think I’d extinguish myself a few minutes in.”

“Inviting you was partially my fault,” Lis said.  “I thought it would be better than pretending you don’t exist.”

“You’re a conniving and dangerous bitch, Lis,” Edith said. “You have ulterior motives.”

“I do.  But the sentiment was also there.”

Edith blinked.  Then she sighed.  “Sentiment appreciated, then.”

“She brought you here because she thinks she’s third place and you’re fourth,” Maricica said.  “She understands and sympathizes with your position.”

“I think I’m third place?” Lis asked.  “Is this where you tell me I’m fourth?”

“There are no places.  We are only beginning.  What use comparing the fastest caterpillar when we’ll become butterflies?”

“Butterflies?”

“You’ll like it, Lis.  Be patient.”

“I seem to at least be third place in terms of the information being shared.  If I’m not fourth,” Lis said.

“Not quite true.  It’s not being shared.  I divined it,” Maricica said, pressing her hands together in a praying gesture, eyes closed.

“Divined what?”

“To that,” Charles said, as he returned.  “I’d need to make sure I understand your purpose.”

“That was a fast trip,” Edith said.

Lis shook her head.

“It was,” Charles said, “but not as fast as you think.  It’s already dawn.”

“My family will wonder where I’ve gone.”

“It’s fine,” Charles said, his words carrying that growly burr still, that made it sound like it wasn’t.

“Did you give the boy what he wanted?” Maricica asked.

“A man, who lost the contest as a boy.  Yes.  He was surprised I didn’t make him try any harder.  Lis?  A view of the Ellingson house.”

“There are connection blockers inside.  The flows of spirits, including city magic…”

“Just a view.  For effect.”

Lis cleared the fog of spiritstuff around the foot of the building.  Lucy’s house appeared below.

“In matters of conflict, I hold domain,” Charles said.  “And that applies to this very important phone call.”

“Hello?” Lucy asked.

Lis could hear it as clear as day.

“Abraham Musser.  I won’t insult you with banalities.”

“Okay.”

“Avery Kelly got in touch, to extend a warning about the possibility of certain traps that could cause widespread damage.”

“I’m aware.  She asked us about it first.”

“And as lines of communication are open, I thought I’d call.  I’m told Anthem Tedd is in your custody.”

“Anthem Tedd,” Lucy said.

“For her mother’s benefit.  She’s listening in,” Maricica said.

“Shh,” Edith said, frowning.

“-thought that might be it,” Lucy said.

“It’s only part of it.  What will it take?”

“Probably more than you’re willing and able to give.”

“You don’t know what I can give.”

“It’s personal.  It’s good for him, it’s good for his daughters.  It would take a lot for me to screw with that.”

“I’ll start by offering a truce.  Temporary.”

“A truce?  Are you scared?” Lucy asked.

“Lucy!” her mother could be heard, off to the side.

“I’m not scared.  But I am somewhat preoccupied.  Anthem being returned could be the difference between me coming to get him back or me leaving you alone for a while.  A few words to my people in your town, this ends, you get a reprieve.  If you’re interested in him spending time with his daughters, I could make that a condition.”

Lis noticed Charles’ bristling beard moving.  He was smiling, teeth showing, even as his eyes focused on nothing in particular, looking at the image.

“A lie?” Lis asked.  “A broken Oath?”

Charles shook his head.  “No.  But the same end result.”

“Shhh,” Edith shushed them again.

“-etely different result if they’re with you,” Lucy was saying.  “A worse result.  No.  I don’t think this is negotiable, but I think… if you’re going to give me a final offer, I’ll take it to the council.  It’s not my job or my right to decide or say all on my own.”

“Fine.”

“Why did you call me?”

“Because you seemed to be the closest thing to a practitioner in charge.  Take this to your council, then.  A truce.  Three months.”

“Three months?  Did you miss the part where I said I didn’t think we’d let Anthem go?”

“No.  But you get the truce regardless.  I said I’d be back after three days.  Three months from now is technically after those three days.”

Lis looked at Charles again.  “Why are you happy?”

“Shhh!” Edith shushed her.

“This is his downfall,” Maricica murmured.  “He’s at Charles’ mercy now.”

“He has been for a while,” Charles said.

“Got your plate full, huh?” Lucy asked.  “Wow.”

“I give you this notice in keeping with certain old rules and formalities.  You need to accept.  If you try to turn around and gainsay me on points of order when it comes to announced contests and duels, I would be forced to come as close to the stated three days as possible.  I think you’re all happier and I’m happier if I don’t have to bother.  Because I would win.”

“I’ll take that to the council, but uh, probably accepting.  Yeah.”

“In the meantime, would you be amenable to working together on the problem of the Carmine Exile, if it was through Nicolette, or Raquel?”

“That is one hell of a question,” Lucy said.  “My gut answer is hell no.  But I’ll take that to the council too.”

“Do.  That should be all.  Reach out to Nicolette or Raquel if you recognize the threat the Carmine Exile poses.  They know how to get in touch with me.”

“Got it.”

“Congratulations, Ellingson, by the by.  Anthem is one of the few people I respect.  It’s not easy to get the upper hand over him, whatever form that took.”

“I think you thinking he’s one of the few people out there worth respecting says a heck of a lot about you, Mr. Musser.  He’s a guy with something missing, the way he treated his daughters.  And hopefully he can fix that or regrow it, but-“

“I was offering a compliment.  I see I shouldn’t have bothered.  I suppose we’ll talk when next we talk.”

“I sup-”  A dial tone could be heard.  “He hung up on me.”

“He’s not beaten.  He won’t go down quite that easily,” Maricica said.

“But he’s breaking.”

“We’ll see what he becomes when the veneer cracks,” Maricica mused.

“Is this the end of my needing to be ‘patient’?” Lis asked.  “Can we deal with the threat on our doorstep?  Kennet?”

“No,” Charles said.  He looked like he was in a good mood.  “Patience yet.”

Lis almost swore out loud.

He raised a hand.  “Easy.  Leave things be, stay discreet.  And tell me.  You made a deal with Freeman Boyd.”

“He captured the Countdown Cassandra.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then why ask?”

“Tell me about the arrangement.”

“For that, I’ll give him access to an alternate network.  It costs a bit of power, but he’ll be free of the Turtle Queen.  They plan to ransack the Arcade in daylight hours when the most people are asleep.  There are some magical items in there.  I can give them a boon, city magic, to let them move and escape more easily within Kennet.  Special doors that allow quick shortcuts.”

“Musser might call them off,” Edith said.  “With the truce.”

“We can disrupt the truce, keep them at odds with one another-”

“Don’t,” Charles said.  “See the deal through if you have to, but then leave things alone.”

“And be patient?” Lis asked, testy now.  “Patience, patience, wait, don’t harm them, don’t fight for what is mine, I must give them Kennet found?”

“Kennet found keeps them preoccupied.  It’s a weakness as much as a strength.  The deal.  It had three aspects to it.  For the third?”

“People are out looking for magical information online.  Freeman Boyd offered to interfere with them, stalling their access to practice, keeping Kennet more predictable.  If they learned, there would be a chance they’d join the local practitioners.”

“And?” Charles asked.

“And I’ll tell him… no.  Just the opposite.  Find them in the Digital Aether, seed the information so they can find it.  I’d have them be fiercely mine.  Sworn by oaths, to be secret, be mine.”

“You’ve lapsed from insisting on ‘we’ to insisting on them being yours, Lis,” Maricica said, smiling.

“I deserve something.  I’ve made sacrifices.  I’ve given you my trust,” Lis said.

She glanced at Edith.

“Several of us have made sacrifices.”

“You have.  But we can take your idea a few steps further,” Charles said.  “And this is one small part of what you’re being patient for.  Several of those people investigating are students at St. Victor’s.  Have Freeman focus on those.  He could even pass on his own knowledge.  Make it worth his while.  Some young technomancers.  Learning city magic too, perhaps?  And divine practices?  We can waive the responsibility costs for looping them in.”

“Why?” Edith asked.

“Because I will be forced out one day.  It’s time to think about legacies.  We’re doing this to send a message.  Let’s start preparing that message.”

“And they’re mine?” Lis asked.

“They would be.  You wouldn’t have any interest in cultivating cutthroat, dangerously effective students would you?  If we only replaced the handful of teachers on staff at St. Victor’s, made some adjustments to expectations…”

“In what will be a secret magic school, right under Kennet’s nose?” Lis asked.  “Your little red heron?”

“We can do better than that,” Charles said.  “Can you prepare them and keep it discreet?”

Lis nodded.

“I have other plans for Maricica.  She’s so filled with power she’s sluggish with it.  Let’s put that power to use.”

“And Edith?” Lis asked.

Edith met her eyes.  It was hard to tell whether Edith was annoyed or glad to have someone considering her.  She wasn’t quite human, elemental, echo, or spirit, and she wasn’t trying as hard.

“I consider you a dear friend, Edith,” Charles said.

“Yet you let Matthew take the house.  You even knew, and let me walk into that.”

“If it wasn’t for the brutal nature of that wake-up call, would you have woken up?”

Edith glanced away.

“Many Judges seem to fall because they lack attachments.  I’d appreciate it if you’d help me by being one of mine.  And I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’m a little too pissed to say yes to that right now.  Maybe later.”

Charles nodded.

But he had an energy around him now.  Not power, or anything like that.

Just… human.

Charles had been doomed since he was forsworn.  From the moment Alexander had said the words, that had been it.  As he’d told it, he’d been tipsy from several glasses of wine, the event had happened, and he’d been left to drink on his own, getting no relief and only the misery of a hangover after.  And the misery hadn’t relented, only escalating to a keening pitch when he’d become responsible for the Hungry Choir, in his desperate grab for revenge.

Becoming the Carmine Exile, he’d never ever talked about things like he expected to be around for long.  It had always been talked about as if he had only so much time before the right people concentrated their efforts and removed him.  A limited amount of time to make monsters, monsters that taught lessons, and seed them into the world, and to create a situation that would make the world at large balk.  Maybe they would take stock of what they were doing.

Then, in this one phone call… Musser was conceding by the smallest degree.  He couldn’t afford the time to travel, or fight one more fight, when he was struggling against Charles’ current Lords.

And through that concession, Charles now had reason to feel like he could count his life in years, decades, or centuries, instead of days, weeks, or months.

“Don’t get overconfident,” Maricica said.

“I’m used to expecting the worst,” Charles said.  “I’m practiced at it.  Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” Maricica replied, smiling.

I am, Lis thought.  But at least now I’ll be able to hone the tools to address my worries.

She willed messages to go through to Freeman, giving him the alternate networks and channels to operate through, while taking on the burden of fighting the Turtle Queen, and asking him to find the others.

Charles and Maricica left.  Edith stayed, standing at the railing around the rooftop, looking out at the spiritual reflection of the two Kennets Lis had access to.

She didn’t want to go home, even with a worried family.

“Will you fight for Matthew?” Lis asked, going to the railing to lean against it, next to Edith.  She offered a cigarette.  Edith hesitated, then took it, lighting it with a glance.

Lis smoked as well.

“No,” Edith finally said.  “He doesn’t want me.  He made that clear.”

“Sorry,” Lis said.

“Are you?”

Lis nodded a bit.  “I’m networked to some empathetic people right now.  I thought it would help.”

Edith snorted.

“What will you do?” Lis asked.  “You said it yourself.  We’re three powers, divine, Solomonic, and spiritual.  Three god-like powers of varying ability in your pocket.  You could ask for a lot and get what you ask for.”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Edith asked.  “One I think is going to be important to a lot of people now.  What do we want?  What are we after?  Everything on the table…”

Lis picked up where Edith had trailed off.  “…Everyone’s expectations overturned.  Charles thought he’d die, Musser thought he’d have everything, the girls… I don’t think they anticipated that phone call, at least.”

“Mmm,” Edith said.  She sucked on her cigarette.  “I missed this.”

“I know.”

“You want a magic school, I suppose.  Some small connection to your roots.  Maricica wants to be powerful enough not to need to scheme, while still having the wits to scheme if she chooses to.  Or to transcend what she was.  Charles-”

“Wants to live, or wants to change things, or wants revenge.”

“Big asks,” Edith said.  She buried her face in her arms, resting them on the railing, lit cigarette between two fingers.  Her voice broke a bit as she whispered, “Fuck.”

“You don’t have to answer right now.  You’ve lost a lot.  After a big loss, it can be alright to take each moment as it comes, get through to the next.”

“He’s not dead.”

“Still a loss.  Still fine to grieve.”

Edith snorted.  She moved her head and arm to take another pull on the cigarette, keeping her forehead against her one forearm, still.  Smoke curled around her head.

“I’ll take another cigarette to start…” Edith said.

Lis gave her two.

“…And front row seats to what’s coming.”

Next Chapter