Author: Wildbow

Crossed with Silver – 19.5 | Pale

Next Chapter

Avery took a seat, Snowdrop following to sit beside her.  Avery had her food she’d just ordered.  A coleslaw and swiss melt sandwich for herself, with peach iced tea, and then everything nachos and milk for Snowdrop.  “Have you been waiting long?”

“A few minutes,” Clementine replied.  “Small talk, mostly.  About Sargeant Hall.  Hi Snowdrop.”

“I’m going to be talking a lot, because I’m really good at plainspeak, and I’m not really in the mood for these nachos,” Snowdrop said, looking down at the plate.  “I’ll be polite and say you can have some if you want.  Help yourself.”

“Reverse speak,” Avery told Mr. Samaniego.

“Okay.”

“How are things?” Avery asked Clementine.  “With Sargeant Hall?”

“Not great, but we manage.”

“Is Arlene still in charge?”

Clementine nodded.  “In a sense, anyway.”

“And Clementine is the house’s fixer,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “A position that was held by Ted Havens.  You crossed paths with him, didn’t you?”

Avery nodded.  “Briefly.”

“Any idea where he is?”

She shook her head, taking a bite of her sandwich.

“Too bad.  But the man deserves a break, I shouldn’t complain.  Saving thousands of lives, then giving Bristow years of service.”

“He’s a good guy,” Clementine said.  “I didn’t know he saved lives.”

“He’s modest,” Mr. Samaniego said, smiling.

Avery nodded, studying Mr. Samaniego.  The man’s beard looked like it might have wax or something in it, to give the mustache a slight upturn, and the beard was really white, which was contrasted with the brown tone of his skin.  His eyes studied her.  She wiped a bit of the Russian dressing off the corner of her mouth.  To keep up with the conversation, she asked, “Can I ask?  How that works?  Or worked?”

“Which?”

“With Mr. Bristow.”

“These guys- her group,” Clementine said, indicating Avery.  “They made him out to be pretty bad.  Keeping us prisoner.  But I never really got the chance to confront him.”

“How much did they tell you?” he asked.

“Not much.”

“Can’t,” Avery said.  “It’s tricky.”

“I can,” Mr. Samaniego said.  He was old enough that his voice had a rougher edge to it, and he seemed like someone who’d practiced how to use it.  For as fancy as his beard was, and for how practiced his voice was, he didn’t really seem super refined.  He raised one eyebrow as he looked at Avery.  “Less tricky for me.”

It felt like a challenge.

“At a price?” Clementine asked.

“I don’t think so,” Mr. Samaniego replied.  “But some would disagree.  I want your help.  I think it’s an arrangement that serves us both.”

“I get the feeling Mr. Samaniego has asked for your help before?” Avery asked.

“Ted Havens said I should stay clear and be careful.”

Clementine nodded, looking at Mr. Samaniego.

The man sat back in his chair.  “The Lighthouse has ways of finding people.  So did Mr. Bristow.  After our initial friction, he took on a role as a middleman.  It became mutually beneficial.  He’d sand off the rough edges, take them in for that rough initial period, send some people our way when we asked.  Rarely the best…”

He indicated Clementine.

“…But he was doing what we wanted, outside of that, right mindset, seemed like a useful little idiot.”

“A lot of that was an act,” Avery said.

“Yes and no,” Mr. Samaniego said.  He used a finger to wipe away some sauce from the plate in front of him and popped his finger into his mouth.  “Get past that first layer, there was something there.  A spark, but more weaknesses too.  He was always going to destroy himself.  Saves us the trouble.”

That last line kind of interrupted the flow of the conversation.  Clementine glanced at Avery.

Avery was pretty sure she wasn’t included in that ‘us’.  She tore a nacho away from the edge of Snowdrop’s plate and ate it.  Snowdrop made a sound of protest, until Avery shared the sensation of taste and enjoyment through the familiar bond, which got Snow to relax some.

“He would have belonged at this table,” Mr. Samaniego said.

“What do you mean?” Avery asked.

“We’re of a type.  I hear you’re going around asking for help, making contacts.  I can guess what you’ll ask me about.  Clementine is the house fixer.  If someone in the building has a problem nobody knows how to solve?  Ask Clementine.  Clementine, meanwhile, well, you have some of the right ideas, don’t you?”

“Not often enough.”

“And some of the right items for a situation?”

“Not nearly often enough.”

“But sometimes.  And as you suggested just now, you run into enough situations you don’t know how to handle, and you ask for help.  You sold such-and-such an item to such-and-such a person, maybe you offer them the right item on the cheap, in exchange for information on a such-and-such situation.”

“I don’t think I’m a very good fixer,” Clementine replied.  “Arlene got upset, when I called one of those people over.  And people in the building don’t trust me.”

“Havens set a high bar, and Bristow was there to do some of the backend work.  I have it on good authority you’re doing an alright job.”

“What authority?” Avery asked.  “You seem to know a lot.”

“I have to, don’t I?  You have to, girl.  To survive in this world?  Knowledge is power.”  He paused, glancing at Clementine.  “Lack of knowledge is someone having power over you.”

“That’s not what we’re doing,” Avery said.  “I know someone that got imprisoned for months, for letting the wrong people in on what’s happening.”

“One of the Tedds, wasn’t it?” Samaniego asked.  “You did the imprisoning?  Correct me if I’m wrong.”

Avery, already having taken another bite, not wanting this meal to get cold, because it would be gross cold, wanting the meal to be done quickly so she would be freer to talk, counted it as lucky she had an excuse not to reply.

“What happened?” Clementine asked.

Asked Samaniego, Avery noticed.

“Her town got attacked.  Again.  And the only practitioners I know of who have been gone for that long are the Tedds.  Anthem Tedd, America Tedd.  Liberty Tedd briefly, but she got out, she goes back for visits.  Again, correct me if I’m wrong.”

Avery swallowed, drank some iced tea, holding up a finger, then replied, “Yeah.”

“Why not kill him?” Mr. Samaniego asked.  “He’s murdered before.  Murders for which he’ll never see justice, because of the world he lives in, the favors he curries, the power and wealth he’s amassed.  America Tedd isn’t a charmer either.  Put bullets in ’em.”

The question was so bold it put Avery on a mental back foot.  She looked around, but the tables around them were empty.  Which was weird.

“Any answer works, I’m just curious who I’m dealing with,” Mr. Samaniego said.

“I mean, first of all, the prison they’re in doesn’t allow violence.”

“Cheat,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “It’s what you do, isn’t it?  Cheat.  Or tell me that when you’re cop, judge, and juror for your little territory, you can’t somehow also be executioner.”

Avery shook her head.  “I’m not a killer.”

Samaniego sat forward rather abruptly, pushing his plate almost to the little table’s edge so he’d have room for his arms and elbows.  “But you condone killing, don’t you?  It’s fine if others handle it?”

“I don’t-”

“Odis Saulsbury?  Your local Others?”

“Is this really what you want this conversation to be?” Avery asked.  She glanced at Clementine.

Samaniego, still leaning forward, shrugged a bit.  “I’m curious where you stand.”

“I feel like we can have a conversation where, like, we find common ground, you say we’re similar, we’re all trying to network, okay, sure.  So we help each other, Clementine’s in the worst spot-”

“Debatable but sure,” Mr. Samaniego said.

Does that mean you think I’m in the worst spot, or you are?  Because one’s a threat and the other’s sensitive to bring up.

Avery skipped over that.  “-so let’s help her first.  World’s a better place if we help her.  But we can also have a conversation where you quiz me on killing or not killing, you bring up Odis, I ask if you’re not doing the same thing, and we both come out of it less great, we don’t help each other, we all lose.”

Clementine frowned.  “I’d rather not fight.”

“If I don’t have the answer to my question, how do I know how to work with her?” he asked, indicating Avery.  He looked at Clementine.  “How do you, miss Robertjon?  You’ve hurt others, you’ve killed.”

“In a sense.”

“A real enough sense to feel the consequences.  Doug and Elle, the man in the cracks, you don’t know the outcome of what happened when you stabbed the Laughing Prince’s maid.”

Avery looked at Clementine.

“We’ve taken lives, Clementine.  Each of us three, sitting at this table, if you’ll allow me to ignore Snowdrop, we lack something the other two have.  You lack information.  Avery doesn’t have enough blood on her hands.”

“And you?” Avery asked, feeling defensive despite herself.

“I don’t have anything special about me.  I’m an ordinary man.  Or, if you wanted, you could say that I could walk away from all of this.  I won’t, but I could.  Neither of you have that luxury.  Each of these things, they’re an advantage and disadvantage at the same time.”

“It doesn’t feel like being ignorant is an advantage,” Clementine replied.

“And I can’t see how keeping my hands clean is that bad a thing,” Avery added.

The old man sat back, moving his coffee at the same time so it was in easy reach.  “You dodging the question of killing tells me something, at least, girl.  Okay.”

“It feels weird to me that that’s the question you basically start with,” Avery said.

“Tells you a surprising amount.  What would you start with?”

“Goals?” Avery asked.  “Maybe we have mutual goals, and we can find common ground?  Or small talk?  Just to, hmm, check the temperature of the water?”

“Small talk?”

“The weather?  How was your drive in?  How’s the food?  Where do you live?  Do you have family?”

“My truck is a serial killer, so the drive is always a bit interesting,” Clementine said.

“And there we go, back to killing,” Mr. Samaniego said, with a chuckle.  “What did that take?  Ten seconds?  Not even?”

“Not what I meant to do,” Clementine replied.

“That’s still a thing, huh?” Avery asked.  “Your truck?”

“I keep it in line.  I’m careful.  Um, what were the other questions?  Weather?”

“I like the cold.  Hockey season,” Avery said.  “But Snow here is more sleepy than usual.”

“Full belly helps keep me awake,” Snowdrop said.

“I don’t usually mind it, but it makes the apartment building feel a little scarier.  Darker.  Closed in,” Clementine said.  “Really have to go out of my way to spend time with warm people.”

“Corey?” Avery asked.

Clem nodded, smiling a bit.  “What else?  Feel free to jump in, Mr. Samaniego.”

“Not much to add.  I could complain about the cold weather, but that won’t change anything about it.  I don’t want to give any details about where I’m holed up- I’d just lie, and I don’t want to lie.  I will say… careful, bringing up family.”

He glanced at Clementine as he said it.

“I’m fine, really,” Clementine said.

“Some aren’t,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “People like Clementine here, people at Sargeant Hall, people like me, people who work for me, family tends to be a touchy subject.  A lot of the time, we don’t get family, or we have it, but it won’t have us.”

“Sorry,” Avery said.

“Five kids across two divorces.  One ex, got a glimpse of what I deal with, she knows, she hates me, the kids don’t know but they grew up steeped in that hate, they felt betrayed for a long time.  The oldest is only just now starting to talk to me again.  Not as a son to a father, not as a friend.  An acquaintance.  But I ask him for help with technology, he teaches me.  Other ex, no fucking clue what it’s all about, but we split amicably.  I was tough, I made her feel safe after a relationship that left her feeling the opposite.  Then she healed, and me being tough was a problem, not a good thing.  Kids resent me for the breakup, could spit on me, they’re so mad.  But I’ve got custody.  Four and five years, and they turn eighteen, I don’t expect they’ll talk to me after that.”

“I’m really sorry,” Avery said.

“It’s a bitter fucking irony, girl,” Mr. Samaniego said, shifting in his seat, to give her a cold look.  “We get shit for family, people like Clementine and I.  And you, a lot of the time, you build empires out of family.”

“I don’t think there’s as much common ground between me and the empire builders as you think,” Avery told him.

“I don’t think the gap between them and you is as big as you’re pretending.  It’s a question of time.  What do you become, in a few generations?  I’m just old enough to have seen it play out a few times over.”

“Can we not fight, or not speak in broad strokes?” Clementine asked.

“Alright, Clementine,” he said, and he said it in a way that felt like it was a rebuke, or a challenge.

“What?” Clementine asked.

“No broad strokes.  Specifics.  I want your help.”

“I agreed to this so you could talk to Avery and Avery could talk to you.  Can we talk about that later?”

“Thank you,” Avery said, quiet.

“I’ll talk to her and she can talk to me after.  I won’t get up and walk away.  I’m not bound to my word like some are, and I can be rough-edged, but I won’t sabotage my ability to work with you by taking advantage, and I do want to work with you.”

“I don’t mean any offense, but… no?” Clementine replied.

“I haven’t even said what I want help with.”

“The way you’ve approached this conversation…”

“I told you before that girl walked in, I’d need to ask some abrupt, scary questions.  To see the look in her eyes and judge it.”

Avery frowned.

“Even with that,” Clementine said.  “Sometimes I get someone who wants to buy one of my things, and I get a bad feeling.  And I have that feeling right now.  Then someone I trust, Ted Havens, said to be wary?  I’m sorry.”

“I’m not a good salesman.  Me being a bad negotiator is to your advantage,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “Because it means to make up for being a bad salesman, I give people too much.  Hear me out.  It’s worth it.”

Clementine looked at Avery- turning her head a bit more than necessary, because her vision in the eye closest to Avery wasn’t good, half-lidded.  “No more fighting.  Really truly, hear Avery out.  I’m frustrated by her not telling me things, but I believe her when she says she can’t.”

“Can’t easily.  There’s a difference,” he replied.

“Please don’t do that.  Benefit of a doubt, because most of all, I believe in what Avery says, about wanting to communicate, network, and get along.”

Avery nodded.

“The items you’ve sold.  Some have found their way back out into the world.  Doug and Elle among them.”

Clementine froze.

Avery looked over, frowning.  “The items have names?”

“A choker,” Clementine said.  “With two individuals attached.”

“I heard about that,” Avery said.

“I buried the choker,” Clementine said.

“It wasn’t the choker,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “It was a braided bracelet.  Three chains, each connected to a charm.  B.F.F.  One ‘F’ for Fae, one for… we think it’s ‘Fucker’.”

“And B?”

“Buffoon, maybe.  I don’t know.  Maybe if we got our hands on it, we could ask around.”

Clementine dropped her eyes, shaking her head.  “I thought it might be that, it made the most sense, but then-”

“They misled you,” he said.  “We found two more of your items being misused by one practitioner.  A repeat customer.”

“Who?”

“Fregoso.  In Chicago.”

Clementine sighed.  “I sold him… the modeling catalogue.  It seemed harmless.”

“What did it do?” Avery asked.

“It was a shopping catalogue, 80s style.  Every time you flipped through, the contents would change.  Different models, different items, different clothes.  Sometimes the items were odd.  Sometimes it had me as a model.  The phone numbers and ID numbers to order were unreadable, usually.  I ordered something successfully once, when it was me as the model.”

Mr. Samaniego grunted, nodding, as if to himself.  “And?”

“A ring from my mother went missing, turned up three days later in the mail.”

“What did it do?” Avery asked.  “How was it abused?”

“It still does it,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “The models are real people.  Items are real things.  A small fee, you get that thing.  We think it’s usually a sentimental object.  Sweater a grandmother knit, a signed baseball.  But when you get the item, you also get a tie to the person.  Angle the book right, to get it focused on the right person, order a few things, they’ll keep showing up in your life.”

“The book was upside down and pointing to me when I was the model,” Clementine said.

Mr. Samaniego nodded.

“What did he do with it?”

“Lured young women into his company.  They found it hard to leave.  One for a week, one for two days.  The drawback, it forced him to play nice, a gentleman of the era.  He played the gracious host, oblivious, while they grew increasingly uncomfortable, but couldn’t bring themselves to go without their things.  We tracked them on a missing persons report.”

“Oh no,” Clementine said.  “And the button?  Big wooden one, for a sweater.”

“Not so bad.  We theorized he bought it as an experiment.  He might’ve hoped it was another success like the catalogue.”

“Pressed against a wall or object, moved left and right, it changes things from one material type to another.  Cotton to linen to polyester to flannel to knit wool.  Or metals, or… yeah.  Up and down, changed colors.”

“With a drawback of making the owner possessive of whatever it was he was modifying.  It only intensified the effect of being cooped up.”

“It sounds like those items are both sympathetic magic,” Avery said.  “Ties between objects and people.”

Mr. Samaniego looked less than happy with having Avery interject.  “Maybe.”

“Might be why he wanted the button.  He could’ve thought it would complement the magazine somehow.  If he recognized the inherent practice type.”

“Two women kidnapped, then?” Clementine asked.  She sounded really upset, even though she was trying to hold it together.  “And he got weird because of the magic?”

“He was weird before,” the old Witch Hunter said.  “But he got obsessive, his worst impulses restrained only by the fact he was trapped in a role and distracted by his attachment to random items.  He lost his mind, toward the end.  Every wall, floor, and light was a pastel shade, most materials soft cotton and plastic in mismatched pastel hues, the forced smile on his face strained.”

“I’m an idiot,” Clementine said.  “I thought he was a goofball, someone who wanted curious magical things.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Avery said.

Again, Mr. Samaniego looked faintly annoyed she’d spoken.  He leaned forward a bit.  “There’s a difference between idiocy and ignorance.  You haven’t been given the chance to know.”

“Just him?” Clementine asked.

“No.  Through Fregoso, we found another.  Michaud.  We weren’t able to get to him before he resold the item.  We have leads.”

“The unicorn,” Clementine murmured.  “I didn’t want to sell it, but it was starting to affect the most sensitive people in the building.  Mr. Bristow and Michaud led me to believe he could dispose of it.”

“He did.  By selling it.”

To Theodora Knight, Avery thought.  I’ve seen it.  It was in the vault.

Was this a test?  Bringing this up to see if Avery would confess knowing where it was and who was responsible?

It was hard to believe his intel was that good.  She didn’t want to be responsible for someone dying, even if that someone was a monster, so she stayed quiet.  She’d figure out another way.

“If you have something to sell, sell to the Lighthouse instead,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “We’ll dispose of the items properly.  I’ll pay fifteen percent more than you’d get selling on your auction sites.  I won’t say they’re in good hands, but they’ll be in the hands of people with no plans or interest in using the damn things.”

“Cleo used them,” Avery said.  “One of the Witch Hunters who came to Kennet.”

“Cleo isn’t Lighthouse.”

“But she worked with you and had magic items.  Some nasty ones too.”

“She was not a Lighthouse Witch Hunter.  We sometimes work with others, to share strategies, stay unpredictable.  Let’s talk about that after.”

“It might be relevant to right now.”

“Can I-?” Clementine asked, interrupting, then pausing to find the words.  “If I take this deal, giving you items instead of selling them in other ways, isn’t it similar to being an employee?  Or, worse, am I going to be like Mr. Bristow?  A convenient middle man you use, while you wait for me to get in too deep and destroy myself?”

“I don’t want you to destroy yourself,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “It’s up to you, but that’s my first offer to you.  Decide for yourself if you’d rather something secure and better paying, or risk releasing these items into the world, giving them to people you can’t always trust.”

“We could take stuff,” Avery said.  “Maybe.  We could identify the items, at least.”

This was definitely stepping on Mr. Samaniego’s toes, which really wasn’t how she’d wanted to do this meeting, but the alternative seemed way worse.  Because she suspected she knew what Clementine would do, and that would be taking the offer.

“There’s no coulds in my offer.  No maybes,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “If you put all the members of the Lighthouse together, we probably find tricky objects about as often as you alone do.  And we deal with it.  We have good methods.  Ones we can teach you.  Which leads me to my second offer.”

“Telling me what’s going on?” Clementine asked.

“If you want.”

“People have told me I shouldn’t want it.”

“And some of those people, I’m sure, stand to benefit from you being ignorant, Clementine,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “That’s the offer, but it’s contingent on us having a working relationship.”

“Me working for you, more or less,” Clementine replied.

“If you want to look at it that way.  I don’t want to, and I don’t think it fits.  There’s no expiry date on this offer.  I’m not asking you to be a Witch Hunter, Clementine.  I think you’re too kind for that.  But there are other roles and responsibilities, peripheral.  Ones you can feel secure about.  Think about it.”

“I’ll have to ask some people.  I don’t know.  I’m not-” Clementine paused.  “-I’m not thinking clearly right now.  I thought I was doing it right.  Contributing in a good way.  I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

“With me?” Mr. Samaniego asked.

“Yeah.  You and this Lighthouse.”

“Think about it,” he said.

“Can I make a suggestion?” Avery offered.

“Please,” Clementine said.

Mr. Samaniego watched Avery, not giving anything away, but leaving Avery feeling more wary because of that.

“Hmmm.  So the problem, as I see it, is that doing things as you’re doing it, there’s a risk bad people get the items.  If you give it to Mr. Samaniego, you’re kind of working for him, and you might still be giving bad people the items.”

“Bad doesn’t come into it,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “Because we’re getting rid of it.”

“Michaud said the same thing, and he ‘got rid of it’ by selling it,” Clementine said.  “It’s not just the items.”

“The information,” Avery said.

“Could be one-sided.  Coming from someone… uncompromising,” Clementine said.

“It’s an uncompromising world,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “I’ve found it a good policy to be unflinching and uncompromising back, at least at first.  The warmth, chats over beer, and being more flexible comes after you’ve triple-checked the coast is clear.”

You say that, Avery thought, but you talked about how your entire family hates you or doesn’t understand you.  How long does it take to do that triple-check?

Clementine glanced at Avery, looking for input.

“Yeah.  So let’s set up a system, for items, information, whatever else,” Avery said.  “Where there’s no one person making these calls.  If your gut feeling on an item, Kennet’s input, and the Lighthouse are all in agreement, no issues, you can feel good about it, right?  Or better about it?  And if Mr. Samaniego comes to you and says this is how… hmm…”

“Solo practitioners,” Snowdrop suggested.

“If he says this is the situation with practitioner families, you can send an email or call us in Kennet for a double check.”  Avery quickly raised a hand as Mr. Samaniego shifted in his seat, ready to say something.  “And that goes both ways, maybe.  If we tell you something and you want a double check, you can ask him.  And if you want to bring someone else in for those double-checks, like, I dunno, someone you trust at Sargeant Hall?”

“Or Arlene?” Clementine asked.

Not who I would’ve thought of.  “Sure.  Maybe.”

“And you insert yourself as a middle man, not all that long after I talked about Mr. Lawrence Bristow doing the same thing,” Mr. Samaniego said, head angled a little, as he gave Avery a level stare.

“Could go another way,” Avery said.  “Where you’re the middle man, Mr. Samaniego, giving a double check, gut feeling, chance to give a warning, before Clementine sends an item to Kennet.”

“Now why in the hell would she do that when she can get rid of the thing?” he asked.

Avery hesitated.  She’d asked about this, calling home, with a video call to the council.  The answer she’d gotten hadn’t been super definitive.  Giving too much information to Mr. Samaniego was dangerous, but if she put this forward and it worked out…

“Because we have a market.  And I can tell Clementine we’ll pay more than fifteen percent over her regular prices, any item that we get will go to our local council, where it’ll have to pass the smell test for five or more people, and we can and will do more extensive background checks on people buying powerful items than Clem can alone.”

“Uh huh?” he asked.  “And here I thought you were attaching yourself to her so if we wanted to work with her, we have to deal with you too, can’t touch you, can’t do anything hairy.  But you’re cutting us out?”

“Sharing the load.  Some items, absolutely, let’s get rid of them.  But if an item’s harmless or useful?  We can pay twenty five to fifty percent over her usual price, then resell to break even or for a slightly higher price.”  Avery couldn’t remember the exact word and reworded on the fly.

“Markdown,” Snowdrop reminded Avery.

“Markup, right.  Gets interested people in.  And it means Clementine’s not yours, exclusively.”

“It means there won’t be a situation where I do this with you for two years,” Clementine told him.  “Then when my business is dead, you lower your offering prices.  I like this, at least on the surface.”

“Cool,” Avery said, even as she felt hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

This conversation wasn’t over, and the way things were right at this moment?  If Mr. Samaniego wanted something out of Clementine, his best way to get that was to eliminate the competition.

She met his eyes.

“The Wolf snarled in my face and I held firm.”

Avery turned, smiling.  Nora leaned into the space between Avery and her locker door, slightly flushed, smiling as well.

If you look that happy to see me, the whole plan of not coming out at school is really not going to work, Avery thought.

“Hi,” Avery said.

“Hi,” Nora replied.  She pointed at the artwork that was held to Avery’s locker door by magnets.  Verona art of a snarling wolf muzzle in one top corner, and a deer looking up from the opposite corner, the words in the middle, in the same script they’d used for accessing the Forest Ribbon Trail.  “What does it mean?”

“It’s a reminder to myself.  That I’ve dealt with bad things and I did pretty okay in retrospect, no matter how scary they seemed in the moment.”

“Tell me more about that sometime?” Nora asked, tucking locs behind her ear.

Avery nodded, smiling.  Her eye was caught by the earring- a different hard candy this time.  It was kind of a thing now.  Nora wearing improvised candy jewelry and after they’d spent time together, there’d be fewer pieces.  Teasing me.

Avery explained, “I’ve been thinking I’d like to get a tattoo someday.  My mom and dad say I need to pick something and draw it on my skin in marker or something for a year without changing it or forgetting, and I need to be eighteen.  So I’m planning in advance.  This was one idea.  Verona drew it.”

“If I even brought up tattoos my mom would be so freaked out she’d transcend to another reality,” Nora murmured.  “Head spinning around, speaking in tongues.  Nothing that can’t be reversed, Nora.”

“All the more reason to do it.”

“I wish.  Keep me updated on what you’re thinking?  Sounds fun, and I think this is a situation I have to live vicariously through you.”

“For sure.  Want to hang out before class?  I’ve got sleepy winter opossum pictures.”

“I can’t, I wanted to say hi, but I’ve got to talk to some people about group work.”

“Aww.”

Nora touched Avery’s arm as they parted ways, and Avery smiled.

“I like your new earrings,” Avery said.

“Take a closer look later.”

I’m pretty sure everyone glancing our way can tell we’re super gay for each other, but also I don’t want to change this.

She’d bring it up anyway, next time they talked in private.

“I like her.”

Avery turned.  Putnam from the team was behind her.

“Heyy.  Yeah.  Nora’s cool.”

“Can we talk?”

“Hmmm.  What about?”

“In private?”

Avery grit her teeth, showing her discomfort.

“Come on.  Before anyone else is around.”

Avery put her coat away and locked up, slinging her bag over her shoulder.  She watched as Putnam glanced around, then steered her into the stairwell, leading her upstairs.

“What’s going on?”

“Come on.”

“If this is a confession or something…”

“Avery, darling, my family won’t stop bringing up how I was still in diapers when I’d turn into a puddle around any remotely cute guy, age two to fifty.  You’re cute but you’re not cute enough to turn me gay.”

“Just wanted to be clear.”

The walkway over the cafeteria extended in a half circle, and the end of the half circle was mostly storage closets, so when they walked out that way, they were out of the way of most of the students.  Avery had a view of Nora meeting with her group at one of the lunch tables.

Skye Putnam was probably the most conventionally attractive girl on the team and Putnam knew it and she loved it.  Brunette, slender, athletic, fun, nice.  She had a shape to her face with upswept cheekbones that, along with a smattering of freckles lighter than Avery’s, made Avery think that Putnam was a better ‘deer’ than she was.  Or if there were human-Fae hybrids, then maybe Putnam had an eighth of a Fae in her.  Not just in appearance, either.

Still not someone Avery was into, even if she could go yeah, that’s one pretty girl.

The rule on the team was that if there was another girl with the same first name, it was first come, first served, and you got your last name instead, otherwise.  Putnam had joined the team while a senior named Sky was on it, and she’d never reclaimed the name.

“What’s going on?” Avery asked.  She had a guess already.  “Jeanine?”

“Yeah.”

“Frig.”

“You know me, I’m the drama queen…”

“Some competition in that space, on the team.  Drama princess?”

“-Okay, I take offense to that.  Fuck you, Avery.”

“There’s good drama and bad drama, and you’re like, good.”

“Fine.  Look, I know I’m the resident over-reactor, I play it up, I goof around.  Maybe I’m completely wrong about this…”

“But?” Avery asked.

“But I think Jeanine’s playing the long game and you’re going to lose the team.”

Avery exhaled heavily.

“Yeah,” Putnam said.  She leaned into the railing.  “I might be wrong, but I heard about this happening before, I was keeping an eye out…”

Putnam’s big brother was gay and he’d been in the gay-straight alliance club when it had gone up in flames.  Metaphorically.  With Jeanine as the likely arsonist.

So yeah, keeping an eye out made sense.

“What’s she doing?  Or saying?”

“I think she realized what she was doing with the sly comments and things wasn’t working and was hurting the situation with the team.  Saying stuff about Nora.”

Avery watched Nora talking to two very tired looking classmates.  It didn’t look like it was going well.  Like they weren’t engaged and Nora wasn’t good at getting them engaged.

“Yeah,” Avery said.

“And then she apologized.  Made nice.  She’s been better…” Putnam went on.

“Sure, yeah.  All stuff I know so far.”

“…on the surface.  You forgave her, so the team forgave her.  But she’s been throwing these little parties and events, every other weekend or every weekend, right?”

Avery nodded.

“And you’re busy, or you don’t want to come if Nora won’t come, and Nora won’t come?”

“She can’t.  Her mom’s strict.  A few times, it was a maybe yes, but I was busy.”

“Got it.  And you’ve left practice early, and Artrip’s okay with it, because you run on your own and you’ve got natural talent…”

Council stuff.  Travel.  Making connections.

“Yeah.  I don’t want to leave early, for the record.”

“I believe you.  And I’ll tell you why.  Because I thought the parties were getting a bit tedious, I missed the last two weekends.  And then after practice yesterday, you left a bit early to get your ride, and someone said something.  I don’t want to name names.  Don’t put me in the middle of this…”

“Yeah?  What’d they say?”

“That you think you’re better than us.  And my feeling- going by what my brother’s said in the past?  It felt like a Jeanine comment from someone who wasn’t Jeanine.”

“Fuck.”

“And that sort of thing, if Jeanine or someone that sounds like Jeanine said that snow was cold, I’d double check it was still true.  Anyway, someone else agreed.  Someone who’s been to all the parties.  And Jeanine busted out the comment, basically saying you are better than us.  Natural talent.”

“Oh heck,” Avery whispered.

“I might be making a big deal out of nothing.  Again, you know me, right?”

“I think you’re probably right.  It makes sense.”

“I think I’m right too.  She knows you’re not coming, so every time she throws a party or invites people to hang out, people come, she gets exclusive access to them.  And if she says the same things enough times without anyone around to say different…”

“People start listening.  Have you heard her saying anything?”

Putnam shook her head vigorously enough her hair lifted away from her shoulders.  “I think she knows I’m in your corner.  Or she knows I’m not in hers, with my brother not being her biggest fan, so she’s careful what she says around me.”

Avery nodded.

“The next time she invites you?  I think you have to say yes.”

More obligations.

But Avery nodded.

“Just be careful,” Putnam said.  “It’s one thing if you’re on the field and Artrip’s watching.”

“Her party’s her turf.”

The empty tables around theirs… and a few clicks of Avery’s attention-detecting bracelet that made her head turn…

Someone had been paying pointed attention to her from the sidelines.  Nobody was sitting alone.

Leaving a few possibilities.  One was that Samaniego had brought someone that had brought a date or something, where the date had no idea what was up.

Another was that the person or people he’d brought were very good at not being detected by something like the bracelet.

And she couldn’t discount that someone might’ve come and decided to pay some brief, negative attention to her but had nothing to do with the Witch Hunters of the Lighthouse.

The second possibility was the worst, she figured, so she’d assume it was true.

“Competition, huh?” Mr. Samaniego asked.

“The way I figure it, and I talked to the others in my town about this-”

“Except me,” Snowdrop said.

“-about what you might want, I don’t think the magic items are that important, are they?”

“We should get them out of circulation,” he answered.

“But it’s not what you’re really after, is it?  You want access to the residents of Sargeant Hall, and the building’s fixer is the best access, right?”

He had that look on his face again.  Like he was giving nothing away, but the cold lack of expression on a face with as much character as his conveyed a lot anyway.

“If that’s true, I don’t think I could give you that access in good conscience,” Clementine told him, quiet.

“You started out giving me a hard no.  Now it sounds like there’s a possibility you might be okay letting me buy some items off you for disposal.  The rest go to that market.  Let’s call that a seventy-thirty compromise.  Give me a thirty-seventy compromise on this.”

“A lot of them are vulnerable people.”

“A lot of them are angry and desperate people.  You’ve found a way past the anger and desperation, miss Robertjon.  I understand if you want others to follow you to that same uneasy peace with your situation.  If you want them to find something like you have, something or someone warm, you called it.  But not everyone can.”

“I don’t- you’re wrong,” Clementine said.

“I’m not angry.  I’ve been angry.  At people who got in my way when I was trying to find a way out.  But I’m not angry.  Desperate?  Yes, even now I feel like there’s a part of me scared I could lose everything at any moment and that part of me doesn’t know what to do.”

“Your enemy is the universe.  It’s the world, random events, there’s no face on that enemy,” Mr. Samaniego said.

“I guess.”

“There are people in that building who are in situations as desperate as yours, and every time they turn out the lights, there’s a face they can imagine in the darkness.  An Other.  A practitioner.”

He indicated Snowdrop, then Avery.

“Maybe not the best examples of something someone could hate and fear…”

“I’m a terrible example,” Snowdrop said.

“…But they’re angry.  And if they don’t have a good target for that anger, they’ll hurt people who don’t deserve it.”

Clementine glanced at Avery.

Avery offered an answer, “Based on how those Witch Hunters in Kennet acted, joining the Lighthouse doesn’t guarantee they’ll find fair and good targets for their anger.”

“Each of the Witch Hunter groups have a different philosophy,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “Montreal is mean, they want to hurt.  Cleo came from that group.  They’ll lie, cheat, steal, deal with organized crime.”

Avery nodded.

“The Reith Library, they play the system.  They’ll go to powers in charge, Lords, Judges, Gods over realms, whatever it takes, and they’ll bring obscure precedent from old records, and they’ll get permission.  They walk the line of almost being practitioners, and then cultivate doubters in their rank and file, the opposite.  Soldiers who are similar to your acquaintance Sharon.  The skeptic.”

Clementine made a brief, disgusted face.

“It’s like conventional law enforcement, getting warrants, except they capture their targets, butcher them to make them even less able to practice.  No tongue, eyes, hands, ears.  There’s a group in Magog, two adults, three kids.  Two of those kids could put some of my best to shame, third’s on their way.  One of the adults is pretty good too.  Some wander.  Long and Mayes travel across North America.  Mayes is like you, Clementine, except instead of finding things, Others find her.  She and Long have gotten very good at self defense, and very good at sending problems back to the source.  Rebounding curses, returning summons.  There’s Folk.  There’s Hayden.  More itinerants.”

“Lots out there,” Avery said.

“We work with them all.  Long and Mayes stop in, we supply them, they teach my guys to rebound stuff.  Montreal’s Witch Hunters teach us about items and practice.  We supply the Magog five, Magog helps us deal with the nasty ones, when what the Lighthouse has available isn’t enough.  It’s not easy.  Long and Mayes are chaos incarnate, Magog is uncompromising in a way that makes me look like a dream.  Clem knows what I’m talking about.  Balances.”

“I’m not very good at those,” Clementine said.

“I do okay, usually.  But I’m only human.  Montreal sends me someone?  Tells me I need to give them direct attention?  It’s up to me to find a way to make her fit.  Sometimes that’s sending them to an area that’s quieter, less Others, see if there are any practitioners who’ve evaded our attention for too long.”

“You thought Kennet was quieter?”

“Nah.  Sent them somewhere else, but they were lured in.  Helped, or hurt, depending on how you look at it, that your town was primed to attract trouble.”

The Carmine blood.

“One bigwig practitioner sticking his neck out a little too far?  If their aim or timing was a little bit better, Musser would be a smear on the road and we’d all have a lot less problems.  They thought it was worth trying for.  I thought they were right.  But Cleo got mean, Haris got killed, they all got roped into a bloody contest.  Situation bigger than they were, for a group meant to be easing into things.  My mistake.  You got a scare, I lost friends and students.”

“Bit more than a scare.  There were consequences,” Avery said.

Mr. Samaniego sighed.  He looked over at Clementine.  “Bristow was good at bringing out the power in those people.  I’m someone who can hone that power.  I know people you can talk to, to get control over your unusual propensity to find magic items.  I told you I’d give you information.  I can give you some leads on how and why you’re what you are.  Maybe there’s a face behind it you can get angry at.”

“Is it even a good thing if there is?” Clementine asked.

“Maybe, maybe not.  Could be it’s a face you can kill to solve your problem.”

Clementine frowned.

“You okay?” Avery asked.

“For most of my life I’ve wanted answers.  For years, I’ve known there’s people who know but won’t tell me.  Customers.  Even you.  Now I’m- I’m in the right position, I guess.  I can get those answers, but if I get this wrong, it’s not just me that gets hurt.  I’d be letting people from the building get recruited to be soldiers?”

Samaniego sipped his coffee, and seemed to find it cold.  “Sometimes it’s a question of a man becoming a soldier so they can fight and fight back, or turning all that anger inward.  Or onto loved ones.  I’d rather help them be a solution.”

“If I recommended someone and they became a soldier, and then they got hurt, I’d feel responsible,” Clementine told him.

“I’d have you bring a ‘friend’ in.  A regular visitor, or someone helping with your business.  Wouldn’t even seem that strange, if you’re changing your business, to sell to the Lighthouse and this Kennet market.”

“I don’t think I could do that.  Unfiltered access?  No.”

“You don’t want to be responsible, but you don’t want someone else to be responsible either,” Mr. Samaniego said.

“A decision I think she’s pretty used to,” Avery said, quiet.

“Every six to ten days,” Clementine murmured, barely audible over the background noise of the cafe.  “You’d think I’d be better at making the call.”

“I admire you, Clementine,” Mr. Samaniego said.  “What you’re doing, what you’ve done, what you could do.”

“I need time to think.  I think if I do anything like this, it’s going to be a very specific case.  Someone really angry, with no outlet.”

“We’ll talk.  Maintain a dialogue with me.”

“Avery?” Clementine asked.  She folded her arms on the table, shoulders hunched together.  “Thoughts?  Second opinion?”

“I think, hmmm… hard to say.  I think I get the idea behind Witch Hunters.  Why we need them, what they’re doing.  But I haven’t seen one I’d trust.  I don’t know if there are any.”

“But you asked to talk to me,” Mr. Samaniego said.

“I did,” Avery replied.

Clementine turned to look at Mr. Samaniego.  “I did say that when we were done talking about me, you needed to have a fair conversation with Avery.”

“I will.  If we’re done talking,” he said.

“I’ll think on it.  Ask around.”

He nodded.  Then he shifted his posture, shoulders angled more toward Avery.  “And?”

“And we covered some of it.  I’m not sure exactly where to start, though.  I guess I’d ask… what’s your goal?”

“Me, as a man?  Me, representing the Lighthouse?  Me, representing Witch Hunters as a whole?”

“Lighthouse.  You talked about the other factions.”

“To answer that, let me ask you a question first.  And I want you to write down the answer,” he said.

“What question?” Avery asked.

“Same one.  I think I know what the answer is.  But… what do you want, girl?  Do you need a pen?  There’s a napkin here.”

“I’ve got blank cards, and a pen.  If that’s okay?  I’ll reach into my pocket to get one?  Easier to write on than a napkin.”

He nodded.

Avery leaned to one side to access her pocket better, got a card and pen, and slowly placed them on the table.

Her bracelet clicked in two places in the process, not counting Mr. Samaniego’s ongoing attention.

She wrote it down, then put it face down on the table.

“Okay?” Mr. Samaniego asked.  He reached out, then tapped a finger on the card.  “I don’t say this to be petty, or problematic.  I’m not trying to be an asshole, even if it sounds that way at first.  I want you and everyone like you to never ever have this.”

Avery tensed.  She watched as he turned the card over.  He didn’t even look at it.

“Peace,” he said, his gaze level, meeting Avery’s.  “Security.”

She’d written safety and success for my town and my friends.

He glanced down.  “Close enough, I think.”

“Did you see me writing it?” Avery asked.

“It’s always one of two things.  You’re not that different from the usual practitioner.  I think if I asked more, the wording would change, but at the heart of it, it’s the same.  First option is peace and security.  Wanting to lock onto something that works and keep it.”

“And the other?”

“When they have that already?  The answer to the question changes to power.  You get greedy for it.  Dangerous with it.  Empathy, restraint, humanity… all lost by the side of the road to more power.  I don’t want you to feel peace, girl, I don’t want your town to have it.”

“I think that’s shitty.”

“There are animals that feel fear and insecurity, and those feelings define them, start to finish.  There are some that don’t feel either, except after illness.  But humans?  We’re unique because we start out as scared animals and we become complacent predators.  That’s humanity.  That’s not even bringing practice into it.  But when you bring practice into it?  Takes that to a whole other level, leaves humanity behind.”

“We’re firmly in the territory of things I don’t fully understand,” Clementine interjected.

“I’ll give you an example, then.  There are men out there who have become immortal, Clementine.  They made it their life’s work.  And an immortal man with no fear of death becomes something wretched, even while he’s still technically a man.  I have, over my career, shown four of those men that they’re still mortal.  Eleven more I and my helpers caught and buried in concrete and put in places they aren’t going to be unearthed from until the continents push into one another again.”

Avery felt a chill.

“Respect and fear,” he said.  “Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t want people to respect and fear me.  I want to make sure that respect and fear remain factors in the first place.  Respect for humans and the state of the world.  Fear, that there can be consequences, every time a car pulls into their driveway, or a gunshot is heard in the distance.”

“I’ve been dealing with fear and insecurity from before I was a practitioner,” Avery said.

Mr. Samaniego shook his head.

“I have.”

“You’re complacent, girl.  The fact you’re even fucking here, sitting across from me, girl?”

He shifted his seat, and the chair squeaked against the floor.  Avery tensed, ready to act if he tried something.

He didn’t move another muscle.  But her bracelet went crazy.

All around the edges of the room, people had turned.

Eighteen out of eighteen people in the cafe in the evening.  Only two seemed bewildered, behind the counter.

“You ate the food.  You drank.  I offered you a pen, I don’t think you didn’t take it because you were wary…”

He pressed a thumbnail against the edge of the little clicker thingy that was meant to get the little pen nib to come out.  There was a needle in it, that stuck up firm even when the clicker was pressed in.

“You just happened to have a pen of your own.”

Avery didn’t move a muscle.  Snowdrop didn’t either.

“Don’t hurt them,” Clementine said.

“I won’t, unless they try me.  But I could’ve.  I wouldn’t have given her this pen, but I could’ve.  She’s complacent.  She says she’s afraid and insecure, she wants the Lighthouse to ignore her for now?  No.  A reminder wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“I’m scared, I’m insecure,” Avery said.  “I deal with it.  Work past it.  Complacent is letting Witch Hunters take a run at Musser in the middle of a town soaked in Carmine blood and figuring they might come out of it okay.”

“Which they did,” Snowdrop said.  “Most of them, anyway.”

“Careful what you say.  Some of the dead were my friends.”

“If you want complacent and fearless… look at Musser again,” Avery told him.  “I asked you to meet so I could ask for this.  Leave us alone.  We’re the enemy of your enemy.  We’re the friends of people you badly want to befriend.  You guys already jammed up a bad situation and made it way worse.  For innocents, for us, for you guys.  I asked you to meet so I could ask you, beg you, please don’t do it again.”

Mr. Samaniego sat sideways in his seat, facing her, his expression hard to read, again.  Old but not addled.

One hand gesture or word away from eighteen Witch Hunters getting up from their seats and coming at her.

He didn’t remind her of her Wolf.  But he was definitely a Wolf, in a way.

“I’m extending a lot of trust,” Nora’s mother said.

In the gloom of the back seat, the whites of Nora’s wide eyes were almost the only thing visible.

“I don’t think you need to worry,” Avery replied.  “I think the biggest concern is like, high school teen girl drama.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Don’t underestimate the drama,” Avery said.  “I’m glad to have backup.”

“Glad to be the backup,” Nora said, squeezing Avery’s hand where her mother couldn’t see.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do something else with your evening?  A movie?  Board game?”

“Already got a bit gussied up,” Avery replied.  “It’d be a shame to waste that.  And I have it on good authority that someone saying no too often to these sorts of hangouts gets in trouble, socially.”  Where that someone is me.

“You were going to let me go to some of them,” Nora said.

“Because they were fundraising for charity, and fundraising suggests chaperones.  There will be chaperones?”

This was like pulling teeth.

“Yes,” Nora said.  “Her mom’s usually around.”

It looked like Nora’s mom was summoning courage to give the okay.  Avery waited patiently, squeezing Nora’s hand tighter.

“This is a test run.  I know you want to go to Avery’s town for the holidays… which is crazy to me…”

“Part of the holidays.  Boxing day and a few days after,” Avery clarified.  “My family’s been celebrating holidays a bit late.”

“Which means I celebrate at home and then go to Avery’s,” Nora said.

“If there’s any problem tonight, you won’t go away for Christmas.  Not that tonight going perfectly guarantees permission.”

Putnam and Hui were outside.  Putnam looked cold, craning her head to see.

“They’re waiting,” Nora said.

“Go.  Be safe.  Call if you need anything.  Please.”

Avery opened the door, then helped support Nora as Nora got out.  Not that she needed it, but it was nice to have an excuse.

“Woo!  You made it!” Sophy called out.

Nora’s mom lingered for the duration of Avery and Nora navigating the icy, snowy driveway, holding onto one another, again, unnecessary but nice to be doing, and making their way up to the house.

“I’m a bit nervous,” Nora said.  “I’m not a… party type.”

“Don’t be nervous.  Just- don’t feel pressured to interact with everyone.  Enjoy the mood, find one cool person to latch onto.”

“You?”

“Of course me, but can be someone else.”

“You guys are slowpokes!” Putnam called out.  “I’m freezing, I’ll be inside!”

Hui and Putnam disappeared inside.

“Oh, check it,” Nora said.  She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a plastic bag with jewelry inside.  Another hard candy, red, secured in decorative wire, with a decorative chain that might’ve been gold.

“Pretty.  You went the extra mile with that one.”

“I thought, you know, because we’re going to a party.  Anyway, I didn’t want to wear it around my mom, in case, you know…”

“Someone happened to eat it?” Avery asked.

“Maybe, if it’s crowded then we might not get the chance.  It sounds crowded.”

“Too bad.”

Avery took the bag and withdrew the long chain.  She went to put it on Nora, who lifted up her hair.  The little charades like this, like supporting her as she got out of the car, they were nice, and gave Avery little thrills.

“Jeanine might come at me through you.”

“Okay,” Nora said.  “I’ll fight her and win.”

The chain of the jewelry was long, and as Avery connected the clasp and let it drop, the dangling bit of ‘jewelry’ disappeared down the front of Nora’s dress.

“You, uh, hmmm- was that intended?  Am I still-?”

“No!” Nora protested.  She covered her face, then gave up on that, covering Avery’s face with both hands.  Then with one hand, while she fished the jewelry out with the other.  She undid the clasp, then reworked the chain.  “It’s meant to be worn more like this.”

Looping the chain around her neck three times, then adjusting the loops.  The jewelry sat in the hollow of her collarbone.  Which was still pretty thrilling.

Avery reached over, adjusted the loops a bit more, unnecessarily, then glanced around, and rubbed the corner of Nora’s jaw with the end of her thumb as a small gesture.

The door opened.  Putnam looked at them in an accusing way.  “What’s the delay?”

“Talking.  Non-mom-approved accessory,” Avery said, pointing at the necklace.

Nora was flustered enough it pretty much gave the game away.

“Lies!  What are you doing to our Nora, you scoundrel?”

“Your Nora?”

“Our Nora,” Putnam replied.  “Our biggest fan, she watches us practice, she roots for us.  Come on in, Nora.  We’ll keep this scoundrel from abusing you, keeping you out in the cold, manhandling your jewelry.”

Nora gave Avery a helpless look as Putnam dragged her inside.

Avery followed, closing the door behind her.  Coats off- Nora wore a black dress, and Avery a button-up shirt and vest.  She’d done her hair in a ponytail, and made the ribbon overly long.

It wasn’t that crowded, in a ‘everyone in the grade invited’ way, but it was definitely a friends and friends of friends invitation.

Nora was swept up in the general bustle of the team greeting her, with Avery following, smiling reassuringly when Nora looked back.  Avery looked around, finding Jeanine, considering the avenues that any problem could come from.

“Hey, Ainsley!”

Avery rolled her eyes.  “That joke died months ago.”

Oli, Jeanine’s older brother, only grinned, moving on.  It looked like he’d invited his own friends.

“You actually came.”

Hui, one of her teammates.

“Yeah.  Of course.  I really wanted to, but it’s been hectic.  Family in another town, trying to balance everything.”

“So you said, but some people didn’t believe you,” Hui said.

The evasive way she said it made Avery wonder if Hui was one of the people who’d fallen for Jeanine’s machinations.

“Jeanine’s mom is a little drunk, so just play along, don’t make a big deal of it,” Hui whispered.

Avery nodded.  “I’m going to go make sure Nora’s okay.”

“For sure.”

Avery did see Jeanine’s mom, doing her rounds.  She didn’t seem drunk, except for being talkative.  Charlene was a tall woman, pretty, with a lot of natural, easygoing charm.  Avery had seen her at some practices, to pick up Jeanine or Oli for appointments.

According to Jeanine, her mom was the type to say it was okay if Jeanine or Oli did pot, if she was there to supervise and make sure the pot came from somewhere reputable.  They could drink, but only if she was there, and so on.  She’d bought Jeanine a sex toy at the same time she’d given her the talk with her first tampons.  The members of the team that had known Jeanine from middle school had joked about the toy, giving it nicknames.

Avery had the feeling that Charlene and Nora’s mom meeting would be like matter and antimatter.  Canceling each other out with a faint whoosh of air.

There was no drinking or anything obvious happening at this party, though.  Music played through the house’s systems, people were dressed nice, and nothing was really crazy.  Except Putnam- damn it.

Avery had asked Putnam and Sophy to look out for Nora, in case drama happened and Avery couldn’t, and in her usual way, Putnam was exaggerating everything, taking on the duties an excess of care and overcompensation, enlisting the entire team into the process.  Nora looked like the captain of a five-foot sailboat in a storm with thirty foot waves.

Avery worked her way past the crowd.  “You good?”

“Yeah,” Nora said.

“Do you want a drink? I saw cola.”

Nora nodded.

“We’ll get her drinks, she won’t go wanting!” Putnam exclaimed.

“Dial it back,” Avery told her.  “You’re being so nice its almost bullying.”

“We’d never!”

Avery pointed at Nora, then made the okay sign. You okay?

Nora shrugged.  She didn’t look not okay.  A little overwhelmed by six different girls talking to her.

She got the cola and brought some to Nora, and then other girls made their orders, not wanting to get up- five of them were sitting in three chairs at one end of the big white living room, too awkwardly positioned to get up.

Putnam cheered as one of the guys showed off his dance skills- something that might’ve been tap dance.

And in this wonky environment, tiny sailboat and giant waves, Avery was constantly aware of the shark.

She knew it was playing with fire, bringing Nora.  But she felt like not bringing Nora would be a kind of surrender.

“You actually showed,” Jeanine said.  She wore a dress that could’ve belonged to her mom- long with a webbing of straps at the back.

“It’s not like I actually wanted to miss out.  There’s just been a lot going on.  This is really cool.”  Avery indicated the house, the gathered people.

“Uh huh,” Jeanine replied.

Avery was aware that a few members of the team were lurking.  Jeanine’s end of the clique, maybe.

Fucking sucked that was a thing.

“Oh, clear out,” Jeanine said.

The guy who’d been dancing was showing other people how to do it, and that necessitated getting out of the middle of the living room.  About ten people were in on it now.

But as they moved out of the way, Avery went one way, and Jeanine seemed to very intentionally go another.  Shark retreating back into the water.

Nora, at least, was safely ensconced in a crowd of Avery’s teammates, cheering for Putnam and Sophy.  Apparently over who would figure out the dance steps first.

Avery ended up sitting next to the chair, watching, cheering along.

It wasn’t what she’d expected out of a high school party- the only obviously drunk person or person in need of a chaperone was Jeanine’s mom.

No shark.  No… whatever Jeanine’s sub-group was.  Minnows?  Did minnows hang around sharks, to eat what the shark left them?

No shark, no minnows.  Conspicuously absent.

Avery checked on Nora again, then got up, going looking.  She checked her and Nora’s coats were okay, then saw there was a group in the kitchen.

If things really were being said behind the scenes…

She didn’t sneak, but she didn’t make herself known.

“She has money.  Like, a lot, right?  Taking the bus between her hometown and here?  And I mean, the place she’s in, you saw it, it’s fine, but it’s not that nice.”

“Point to Gianna,” Jeanine said.  “That makes a lot of sense.  Supports the theory.”

“What’s the theory?” Avery asked.

Jeanine looked a little startled.  “Oh, hello.”

“Hi.  What’s the theory?”

“We were discussing what might be going on, and if there’s ways we could help you,” Jeanine said.

“You could ask me directly.”

“It’s awkward, isn’t it?” Jeanine asked, and she smiled what might’ve been intended as a sympathetic smile.  When it didn’t do anything with Avery, she turned her attention to Gianna and Cussins.  Neither of them really joined the smile.  “Bringing it up.  Especially when you’re too ashamed to tell us where you’re going.”

“It’s not shame, Jeanine.”

“You have money to travel hours on the bus without your parents.  Nice clothes.  You didn’t flinch when we were talking about pooling money for a trip with the lacrosse team in spring.  And then you figure… strange old dude shows up in front of the school.  You go off to talk to him.  It paints a picture.”

“Of?” Avery asked.

“Unconventional employment.  Working evenings.  You hear it happens.”

“That’s your angle?” Avery asked. “You’re going to throw that out there, knowing it’s not true?”

“We don’t know it’s not true,” Jeanine replied.

There was no smile on her face anymore.  No joy.

She even looked like she hated doing this, maybe.  But she couldn’t not.

“It’s not true,” Avery said.  “Listen to my voice, you’re not going to hear a waver.  My eyes, I’m not going to blink.”

She locked eyes with Jeanine.  Jeanine was the one who looked away.

“My grandfather had a stroke a while ago, needs care, my parents are working in different places, two households, even though they love each other.  My kid siblings aren’t doing great.  My friends back home have a lot going on.  There’s a lot.  I’m trying to do a lot.  And you, doing this?  You’re adding to that, not helping.  It’s not being a good friend.”

“You want to talk about friendship?  I was the first person that was cool to you when you showed up here.  And you dropped me.  Didn’t tell me what was going on, being weird.  Acting superior, being cagey.  What are we supposed to think or do?”

“Ask?  Or just be friends.  Some of these other guys, they’ve been super supportive.  And you’re here churning the rumor mill, saying something shitty that could have people talking behind my back for years?”

“What’s this?” Nora asked.  She’d come around.  And the other teammates were guarding her, much like Avery had requested.  “What’s shitty?”

“Just trying to figure out where Ave’s going all the time.  We had a running theory we were talking about as a maybe,” Jeanine said.  “Not spreading anything.  Just… concerned.”

“Saying I’m a prostitute or something,” Avery said.

Nora laughed.  “Shit.  Oh no, sorry, I shouldn’t- that’s idiotic.”

“Seriously, Jeanine?” Putnam asked.

“I wasn’t spreading anything, I was worried.  And don’t call me an idiot in my own fucking house, okay?”

Again, there was that feeling, like Jeanine could barely help herself here, and it was sad, more than anything.

And scary, Avery had to admit.  She had backup, but the kind of rumor that Jeanine was threatening to put out there?  It wasn’t the kind of rumor Avery could just dispel or anything.  Especially when she did have to run off a lot, and couldn’t show or tell anyone what she was doing.

“I was concerned.  If you’re going to be shitty, get out of my house,” Jeanine said, in response to the silence from the room.

Avery turned to go, and a good few of the others came with.

“You make a shitty couple,” Jeanine said, to Avery’s back.

Avery turned.

“Just saying.  You and her don’t match, it’s embarrassing to see.”

Avery tried to draw on as much of what she’d seen in Mr. Samaniego as she could, staring Jeanine down.  Jeanine looked away-

“Jeanine,” Avery said.  Making Jeanine make eye contact again.

“It’s not like you’re good at hiding it,” Jeanine said.

“If you mean me and Avery,” Putnam said, “You’re a fucking idiot.  I’m so straight it scares people.”

“It’s true, Putnam’s attraction to boys scares me sometimes,” Hui said.

Avery stared Jeanine down.  A very different sort of Wolf, this time.  Sad.

“It’s a good thing you’re wrong.  Because if you were right, you’d be crossing a line.  Outing someone when they’re not ready?  When you don’t know the situation?”  Avery asked.

Jeanine looked off to the side.  Looking crestfallen.  “Yeah.  Good thing I’m an idiot, I guess.”

“So idiotic it’s not worth repeating?” Avery asked.  The people in the kitchen were the members of the team, pretty much.  The dancing was going on in the living room, across the house, people guffawing.  “Scarily shitty thing to do, even for someone that’s being really shitty, lately.”

“Yeah,” Jeanine said.  “All that.  You want to get out of my house already?  I shouldn’t have thrown this party.  I’m in a bad mood.”

Avery left with the group, gathering coat and things.  She didn’t reach out for Nora until they were clear, outside.  Nora’s hand was shaky as it found a firm grip on Avery’s fingers, then moved to Avery’s hand.

“You good?  You okay?” Avery asked.

Nora nodded.

“Want to call your mom?  You could probably score big bonus points if you just say hey, vibes were bad, we bailed.”

“I don’t think I could talk to her right now.”

“Or you could all come over to my place?” Avery offered.

That got a better reception.

Avery got her phone out to call home, to make sure it was okay to bring the members of the team.  She briefly counted the number of people.  Cussins had come with, she saw.  And looked pretty awkward, only briefly making eye contact with Avery.

But she’d come.  She’d been part of the burgeoning rumor mill with Jeanine, but she’d come.

On the phone, she saw, was a message from Jude.  Promenade meeting.  The last big one.

The Wolf snarled in my face, and I held firm.  The Wolf snarled at people I love, and it felt like the world crumbled.

Mr. Samaniego motioned, and the assembled Witch Hunters relaxed, sitting down, turning around.  Drinking their coffees.  A few kept eyes on Avery and Snowdrop, still.

“While I’m telling you that you should be approaching this world with fear and wariness?” Mr. Samaniego asked.  “You already know the Lighthouse maintains a relationship with Abraham Musser.  Bristow was our intermediary, but he’s gone now, so we talk directly with Musser.”

“Seems counterintuitive,” Avery replied.  “Doing what you do, then working with him.”

“It’s money, which we do need.  And he’s tough to get at.  If we accept the devil we know but can’t touch, at least for today, it gives us the ability to go after that many more.”

Betraying your principles about fear and respect in the process? Avery thought.

She didn’t say anything.

Mr. Samaniego turned.  “We’ll wait for word from you, Clementine, before we agree to any nonaggression pact.  We’ll talk about the market.  We’ll talk more about working in Sargeant Hall.  We’ll talk about giving you information you need, you can double check.”

“Okay,” Clementine said.  “I’ll think on what I need to think on, and ask people for input and advice.  But if something happens to Kennet, it’s going to put a damper on things.”

“I figured.  So, in the interest of showing faith, I’ll pass on what my people found out, being in Musser’s orbit, trying to help him work out this Lord business.  He’s coming at you.  The way he works, he likes to soften his targets up before he comes in.  They’re meant to be looking into the situation of a certain Fae turned goddess, but they’ll stick their noses into your town’s business too.”

“The Wild Hunt,” Avery said.

Mr. Samaniego smiled for what felt like the first time.  A snarl of a smile.  “Got it in one.”

Next Chapter