Author: Wildbow

In Absentia – 21.13 | Pale

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Verona shuffled her feet as she watched Avery hug her mom.  Already, her boots felt a bit heavy, her eyes were a bit bleary from the dust that had collected inside the R.V. and from the lack of sleep, and they hadn’t even started.

Lucy was already gone, going with Jude to the Paths.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Avery’s mom told her, kissing the top of her head.

“We should get going,” Verona said.

“Saying goodbyes is part of the trip, isn’t it?” Avery’s mom asked.

“Ehhh, could be argued it’s the final part of a trip, but we’ve got a bit to go,” Avery said, pulling out of the hug.  “Verona’s right.”

“Sorry I made such good time,” Cliff said.

“It’s okay,” Avery replied.  “We walk the last bit, map app says we should get there on schedule.”

“Snowdrop?” Avery’s mom offered a hug.  Snowdrop went to accept it.  “Look after Avery and Verona?”

“I’m done with that for life.”

“Good,” Avery’s mom said, seriously.

“You guys are going to walk into the woods?” Cliff asked.

“App says we can walk by the road, head into the woods.  It’s not the Aurum’s favored territory, but should be okay,” Avery reported.

“Verona? Hug?” Avery’s mom asked.

Verona accepted the hug, more for Kelsey’s sake than her own.  “Sorry if I stink.  Car trip, no shower.”

“You’re fine.”

Verona looked at Cliff, then offered a handshake.  A hug would be weird.  He took it, looking very serious.

“Thanks for everything, Cliff,” Avery said.  “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah.  Come right on back when you’re done.”

“Do me a favor?” Verona asked Kelsey.  “When you’re channeling that nervous mom energy toward McCauleigh, go easy?  I figure you’ll get some pushback at some point, if you try too hard.  And that goes extra for any Garricks who’re off for the holidays and wanting something to do.  Like the donut lady getting on our case.”

“Right.  Go easy, got it.”

“And at the same time, like, without getting into too much personal detail, she never had a mom or older sister willing to, like, give her the rundown on being a girl.”

“If you’re worried about personal detail because I’m standing here,” Cliff said, “I’ve got a daughter older than Jude and a wife, I won’t run screaming.”

That wasn’t it, but whatever.  Verona nodded, then told Kelsey, “I covered the basic basics, but I dunno, if you’re looking for something to do and you could really subtly cover any bases I might not have thought about?”

“Hmmm.  Vague.  Hard to pry while going easy.”

“Uh, yeah.”  Verona didn’t want to get too into detail about personal stuff, especially with other ears listening.  McCauleigh’s business was McCauleigh’s business.  “Huh.  I gave her secondhand and thirdhand clothes, some stuff mine, some Lucy’s to me to McCauleigh, but that was back home, I think all she has now are the sweats she wore at the fighting pit.”

“The fighting-?  What?” Avery’s mom asked.

“Place in Italy her parents sent her.  She’ll tell you if she wants.  But like, maybe that’s a thing, if you’re restless, waiting for us.  Clothes shopping, hair and makeup stuff.  Time with a mom-like figure.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“She might be resistant.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine.  I’ve dealt with Sheridan being a pain in the tits every step of the way, I dealt with Avery being…”

“Being what?” Avery asked.

“Disinclined to reach out.  Self sufficient.”

“Hmm,” Avery said, drawing her eyebrows together.

“Sorry.  Either way, that’s got to be some help, right?”

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could do it,” Verona said.

Verona stepped back, falling in line with Avery and Snowdrop.  She took in a deep breath, fixed her backpack strap at her shoulder, looking at Avery and Snowdrop, and they nodded all together.

“Okay, love you mom, bye,” Avery said, hand at Verona’s shoulder.

“Love you too.  So much.”

They turned and started their trek down the side of the wide, flat road with its snowbank on the one side, and slush and ice at the edge.

A honk made Verona jump.  When she turned to look, Cliff was standing by the open door of the R.V., hand reaching over to the wheel, grinning like a cat with a-

Dog with a-

Grinning like a dickhole.  Yeah.

She gave him the finger and an eyeroll, then carried on.

“And here we go,” Avery said.  Her breath fogged.

“Way too early in the day.  That’s a flaw in the plan, you know?  That we scheduled this for early in the day.”

“We said we wanted sooner than later, and we said we wanted to get our plan for the Aurum underway that night.”

“I hear you, I do, I get it, and I hate it.  At least you’re used to stuff from your practice.”

“I haven’t had real practice in a while.  I specifically didn’t commit to the hockey team because I was worried about being busy and caught up in stuff, and in case you didn’t notice, there’s snow on the ground.  Makes soccer and lacrosse hard.  This is miserable for me too.”

“You guys have more right to complain than I do,” Snowdrop said, stretching, fingers knit together, palms turned skyward.  She yawned.  “Nocturnal.”

“I’d like to think I’m nocturnal in spirit,” Verona said.

“Oh, get this, don’t look, I’m changing my shirt,” Snowdrop said, circling around Avery, changing her outfit slightly in the process.  She unzipped her jacket and pulled her t-shirt out so the words could be seen.

STOP MARSUPIAL APPROPRIATION

Verona snorted.

“Hey, like, I know it’s bad manners,” Avery said.  “But am I in my rights to be like, kinda annoyed my family’s all up in my stuff now?  Can I complain, when you guys are probably feeling bummed out?  You and Lucy?”

“You can complain.”

“Don’t include me in that bummed out part,” Snowdrop said.  “I’m good on the parent thing.  I’ve got Miss, even.”

“Sorry,” Avery said.  “But I hope you know that my mom’s going to care about you too, Snow.  We’re bonded, I think a bit of that bleeds through.”

“A bit of mom TLC?” Verona asked.

Avery shrugged.  “Why not?”

“Sure.  Won’t disagree.  You’re the one who got the Sight that’s more connections focused.”

A lone car sped by them.  The R.V. had turned around, and Cliff and Kelsey would abandon it when they got to a place with doors.  Cliff had noted an All-House store that would have a whole aisle of doors.  Verona wasn’t sure how they’d handle the noise factor, but that was a Cliff problem.

They walked for a minute.

“You good on the McCauleigh front?” Avery asked.

“Wish she wasn’t in a bad place.  It’s not that she had no parental TLC.  She got the opposite.  She pushed back, tried to stand up for herself and the path she wanted to take, and she got sent to the fighting pits.”

“Yeah.  That’s- I heard about camps.  For gay teens, for others.”

“My dad wanted to send me to one.  Wilderness retreat.  I think the only reason he didn’t was he was too lazy, or the situation didn’t line up.  But McCauleigh’s was worse than the one my dad would’ve sent me to.”

“When I came out, it was in the back of my mind as a dim worst-case scenario.  You never know how people are going to react, you know?  Like, you read stuff online, like on Go Foto Yarns I follow sometimes, parents get weird when it’s their own bloodline, so it can seem like it comes out of nowhere.”

“She perked up when I showed her a pic of Anselm.  So there’s hope still.  I really hope I can get her back to my place, at least for a while, until we figure out another situation for her.  You know?  Her and Mal, and Oakham.  I really want that.”

Avery nodded.  “I hope we can get the good things.  Me and Nora, me finding some balance with the Garricks.  Teaching Sheridan, probably.  Dreading teaching Declan one day.”

Verona nodded.

“I want to actually, like, visit the market more.  I’ve put a lot into setting it up.”

“For sure.  It’s cool.  And I’ve got my bookstore.  You should check that more.  I’ve got space set aside for you and Snow, if you need, like, a Path-stuff workshop and your house doesn’t work.  I could set it up with some doors like the Garricks have.  Probably not, you know, twenty.  But an extra five in that room?”

“That’d be cool,” Avery said.  “I might like a Demesne of my own.  I figure Sheridan would be, hmm, twenty percent less of a pain in the ass, if I just set up a Demesne I can access from a lot of places, and then put my bed and clothes in there.”

“Badass.  Kind of like my wandering bookstore plan?”

“Yeah.  But I’d have it… I dunno the term, I need to reread the Demesnes textbook.  I don’t want a place that’s wandering, exactly.  Hmmm, like, I want it super accessible from the start.  It’d be cool if I could hook it up so I can access it like I access the Paths, or go from the Paths to my Demesne as sort of a place to stop in and sort stuff out, drop equipment off, yadda yadda.”

“Nice,” Verona replied.

“As a long-term plan.  Which might not happen, depending on how today goes.  Should we focus on the short-term?”

“We focused on the game plan on the drive over, I dunno.  We’ve got, what, twenty minutes before we cross over?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“And we’ve got a game plan.”

“It’s a different sort of plan.  I get it, I get how it works, but…”

“The whole thing with the Aurum is there has to be some degree of improvisation, right?  You couldn’t fight the Lord of Thunder Bay without getting wet, right?  We snag him in a meeting, set the table, and leave things open for a vulnerable Aurum.  Then we’re positioned to change the market dynamics with your quote-unquote army, and we use that with the best viable candidate.”

“I know, but the parts of the plan where we don’t know, going in?”

“Part of dealing with the Aurum.  Like how bloodshed will be tied into any proceedings with the Carmine, any contest, whatever.”

“I know,” Avery reiterated.  “And I know somebody’s going to show up, the way we’ve set this up, even if it’s ambient spirits conjuring something up.”

“Yeah.”

“But what if nobody shows, for some reason?”

“Not going to happen,” Verona said, firm.

“Or if nobody’s acceptable?”

“More likely, but even a bad option is better than the current option.  It means Charles is even further from being the new kid on the block with a fresh mandate.  I think it means that his debt to the Aurum is cashed in, sort of like it was with the Alabaster.”

“Ideally.”

“Even if it isn’t, do you really think someone or something’s going to take the Aurum throne and say, oh, sure, I’m going to take this lifetime appointment with a high turnover, and you owe me this huge debt, so I’m just going to sit on my hands and wait until you’re done your shit before cashing in?”

“Or do we think the new Aurum is going to cash in so they can do their mandate?”

“Right,” Verona said.

Avery nodded.  “Not foolproof.  There can be weirdness.”

“Always.”

“What happens if Charles has an alternate Aurum lined up?”

“Then things get hairy.  But we have options.  Just hold onto the market thing, and we don’t leave.”

Avery nodded.

A car raced past, going the opposite way.  Avery turned her head.

“What?”

“That’s the second time we’ve seen that car.”

“Usually Luce is the one to spot weirdness.”

“I do okay,” Avery said.  “Path stuff has me on the lookout for, hmm, things that match, things that stand out.”

“Cool,” Verona said.  “Is it trouble?”

“I feel like it might be.”

Snowdrop tilted her head.  “I think it stopped.”

“It stopped,” Verona said.  “Well.”

The car had gone around a bend in the road, snowbanks and trees blocking the view.

“Want to cut through the woods?  Jog a bit?” Avery asked.

“No, not particularly,” Verona said.  “Who do you think you’re talking to?  Do I want to jog?”

“Should we jog?” Avery asked.  “Even if you don’t want to?”

“Snowdrop,” Verona said.  She pointed at the snowbank.  “Snow angel, stat.”

Snowdrop threw herself backwards onto the snowbank, and began moving her arms and legs around.

Reaching into her coat, where she’d stitched some extra pockets, Verona found the glamour.  Winter made sense but was tricky.  She chose a pinch of High Fall glamour, holding it in her right hand, and jerked her head to one side.  “Out.”

Snowdrop lurched to her feet, taking Avery’s hand.

“What’s up?” Avery asked.  “What can I do?”

“Keep an eye out, and get me started on two more human forms?”

“On it.”

The car had taken a minute or two, last time around.

“And Snow?  Tell us if you hear it starting up again?”

“Screw that.”

Verona used her free hand, reaching over to Snowdrop’s head, and caught a few stray hairs, doing her best not to pull at a few of the tangles in Snow’s dark blonde hair as she found the hairs.

Glamour, hair, Snowdrop was spiritstuff, so the way was fairly clear.  Filling in the snow angel spot, she conjured up a false Snowdrop.

They’d done something similar, discreetly, when rescuing Brie from the local goblins, back before the Blue Heron stuff.  Guilherme had distracted, and she’d created a false image.

Avery cottoned on, and was already partway into defining their shapes when Verona finished Snowdrop.

Mask, cape, cloak, and personal attachment made it pretty easy.  Working on Julette so many times made her good at finishing a copy of herself.

“Why High Fall?”

“Better in cold weather, and I want to rig this like this.”

“Who or what do we think it is?” Avery asked.

“Dunno,” Verona replied.  She laid out some spell cards in the snow, while Avery used glamour gestures for movement to bid the figures to move.  “Backs to the approaching car, and…”

She looked back and forth.

She’d be better at doing this if she had Julette as a familiar.  She drew out lines of glamour, attaching them to light and shadow, drew a spot of light in the air, aligned to the trees, and connected that to the road.

“What even are you doing?” Avery asked.

“I’m wondering what they’re doing.  I’m rigging this so there’s options.  Optical illusion.  They come from that direction, light shining through the trees should obscure their vision, then if they’re innocent and they get close… it’s just a random collection of clothes on the snowbank, like something spilled.”

Verona moved quickly, changing the ‘scene’.

Fall glamour was good for that.  Changes.  Illusions.

“How often have you done this?”

“Couple of times.  Mostly traps to keep Mal from raiding my place and making me regret giving her permission to enter.”

“You could revoke permission.”

“What fun is that?”

Verona finished writing on the backs of spell cards.  Awkward, because she had the fronts pressed to the little ward that kept the cards in the bundle from activating, and it was a lump in the middle.  “Be ready to hurdle the snowbank if they come, and keep your head down.”

“We’re thinking they get close, and we decide on the spot if we want them to see clothes and leave, or if we want to activate those?” Avery asked.

“Yeah.”

“Snow.  Bag, top flap, mood glasses.”

Snowdrop unzipped the flap, reached inside, and pulled out the little velvet-y glasses case, sliding the glasses out, and putting them on, as Avery reached for them.

“That works too.”

They were done.  Verona took stock, then motioned.

They started to cross the gap, moving across snow to trees, and then Avery put a hand around Verona and punched out.

Black-roping them into the trees.

No footprints to tidy up.

“Wouldn’t it be hilarious if they never came back?  If it was someone who got turned around?” Verona asked.

Avery was silent, watching.  Snowdrop wore the round-rimmed glasses with the sunset colors rolling across the surface.

“Do you hear it?”

“I’m close enough,” Snowdrop replied.

“Could do a sound rune.  Listen from afar,” Verona suggested.

“Wait, no, I don’t hear it,” Snowdrop said.

The car came zipping toward them, lonely on the rural road.

“Third time’s a charm,” Avery murmured.  “Or third time’s a glamour trap.”

“Doesn’t roll off the tongue,” Verona added.

The car looked like it was giving the three of them a wide berth, moving into the left lane.  Two of ‘them’ sitting on the snowbank, looking down at Snowdrop, back to the car.

“What color is yellow-green?” Snowdrop asked.

No time to reply.  The car turned hard right.  No squeal, no special sound except the ordinary car sounds.

“Shazam,” Verona said, voice firm, as the car rammed the three kids sitting on the snowbank.

Explosions ripped out, snow became water which became ice, and a small localized whirlwind tied into the other effects, drawing on them while simultaneously pushing out.

The idea had been for the whirlwind to push the targets away as the other stuff came at them.  More of a blast that would toss them, wet and frozen and lightly singed, into the snow across the street, possibly with a broken arm or leg.

Except the wind didn’t budge the car, and the car ate the brunt of it.  Forward momentum, the slope of the snowbank, and the upward push of the exploding spell cards made the car go up, making it about five feet past the snowbank before it touched ground, back bumper down.  The bumper skidded hard on ice below the snow, moving forward, and the car landed top-down on the snowbank, where plows had pushed snow high.  The snowbank was solid enough that the roof crumpled some.

“Holy shit,” Avery whispered.

Verona pulled out her phone.

“Emergency, do you require fire, police, or ambulance?”

“Someone else looks like they might need an ambulance,” Verona replied.  “Possible fire, it’s a car crash.  And maybe police.”

“Can I get your address, ma’am?”

“Not at an address.  Rural road-”

Avery already had her phone out.  She showed Verona.  The map application showed their location, and had a part shaded yellow that marked the boundaries of the Aurum’s domain.

“It’s route three sixty-six, Northwest of a smaller road called chem fierobin?”

“And what’s the status of the vehicle and its passengers?”

“They swerved like they were trying to hit us, went left then steered right at us.  They went over the snowbank and flipped.”

“Okay, without stepping out into the road, can you get close enough to see if there’s any smoke, flame, or leaking fuel?”

“There’s fire,” Verona said, looking at the lingering effects of the spell card.”

“Okay, do not approach.  Remain at least one hundred feet from the vehicle, can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” Verona replied.

“Can you see the driver or passengers from where you are?”

“They’re getting out,” Avery said.

“They’re getting out,” Verona said.  “They swerved like they were trying to hit us.  It was very deliberate.  I don’t feel safe.”

“We don’t feel safe,” Avery said.

“Is there a car you can climb back into or-?”

Verona hung up.

“You used your Zed phone, right?” Avery asked.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t want the call to ping off any towers in the Aurum’s range.”

“Yeah, good thinking.”

The man who’d gotten out of the car looked like someone who’d… Verona didn’t know how to put it.  Never used soap?  Or had stood in front of a hose blasting road grit at him, until his skin had a rough texture and uneven brown-gray staining.  He wore sunglasses, a forest green and light gray ski jacket that looked like someone had worn it for a fall down a mountain, jeans, and boots, and his shaved head was bleeding.

A woman climbed out the back passenger door, and it looked like the window had crumpled, meaning she cut or scraped herself squeezing through.  She wasn’t as grimy or frayed, though she did have a raised port-wine stain on the inside corner of one eye, touching but not climbing up her nose, like an exaggerated teardrop.

The moment she was clear, the car folded slightly.  The ground rumbled.

Something vented out of the ground around the base of the car.  It could’ve been like steam, but it wasn’t- it was black, and it wasn’t vapor.

Verona used her Sight, and saw blackness spreading, staining the white gauze that covered things.

She nudged Avery, who nodded.

Verona, Snowdrop, and Avery all headed for the trees.

A vertigo feeling hit Verona in the gut.

The sunrise had been over an hour ago, but the sky visibly darkened- not consistently, not smoothly.  Like it was fighting, light against dark.  Trees they were running toward got further away.  A slash of blood painted the snow.

Then more.  Like throats were being violently and efficiently cut, and the blood was striking out in sudden, sharp spurts, turning snow white to red.

No, not even white.  Like singed styrofoam, black flecks were popping into being.  Kernels and clusters of ice twisting, pushing out, curling inward.  Small ones, some larger ones.

Until all the snow looked like snow from by the road, where passing cars and exhaust and other stuff painted it.  The sky was losing the fight against the dark, and the zoom-out movement of the trees was slowing.

The car, which had partially folded, folded more.

It collapsed, back wheels almost touching front, and was dragged into a fissure in the ground.  Displaced blood just below the surface fountained up, not pure, not fresh, but partially clotted, dark and gross.

The woman with the birthmark was hit by a clot of it as big as her head, and staggered a bit, but then stood straight again, pressing three fingers to her mouth at a diagonal.  The man did the same thing, as a whole mess of blood that had clotted into a rope-like mess slapped the snow in front of him,

A sound filled the air, like an exhalation mingled with a choir.  Snow settled, ground resettled, and blood bubbled and frothed, spitting up more clots and ropes.

The exhale-choir sound became a groan, or a moan, or a vibration in the air like some generator was running, intensifying as two people soaked in blood with torn clothing were lifted out of the crack in the ground, one with back arched backward, chest thrust skyward, the other bent forward, hair hanging in front of her face.  Her dress was torn.

All the gauze around the red meaty things in Verona’s sight, exceptions for her, Avery, and Snowdrop, specifically, was turning black in the same way the snow had.

“We should go,” Avery said.

The two people who’d been lifted up with invisible hands were set down.  One wavered.  The woman, the old woman stood there, stiff and hunched, blood dripping off her.  Her breath fogged, and she snorted a bloody loogie onto the snow before straightening.  Her teeth and the whites of her eyes were very white with the rest of her stained red.

The man asked something.  The old woman replied, then touched three fingers to her lips.

The man repeated the gesture.  He flinched as the crack in the ground spat what looked like blood-soaked bags, backpacks, and maybe luggage out.  The things scattered onto the snow.

Avery dragged Verona toward the woods.

Verona was pretty sure they hadn’t been seen, so she wasn’t sure of the point of running, but they did need to get going.

Trees were different.  Less leaves, more sharp and thorny bits.  The snow between the trees was muddy, with blood in the mud, not so much mixed in as it formed whorls and spirals and other patterns as it settled into cracks and depressions.

“Snowdrop, go small,” Avery said.

Snowdrop did.

Mud sucked at Verona’s boots.  Stuff beneath mud seemed just as uneven as the mud itself- sometimes it felt like something sharp was digging into the underside of her boot, sometimes it was a vacuum, like missing a stair.

Avery was doing better than she was, of course.  She stumbled forward, Avery’s arm a pulling force and a way to stay balanced, and was glad for the fact she’d laced her boots tight, because otherwise the icy mud could have pulled them right off her feet.

“Left!” Snowdrop called out.

Avery pulled them left, away from the person coming from their right.

Someone was groaning, moaning, stumbling through the mud like they were.

“Eyes,” Avery said.

Verona shut her eyes.

She felt a vertigo feeling again, different from before.

They fell.  Verona managed to twist to land on her side, instead of face-first.  She floundered, one arm trapped beneath her, the other without much to reach for, legs in thick mud.

The man who’d come running at them had stopped, and shouted something inarticulate, almost animal, before falling onto hands and knees in the mud.  He was underdressed for the cold, caked in mud, flesh raw from the cold where the mud hadn’t gotten him.

“He’s cool,” Snowdrop said.  Verona looked, and Snowdrop was holding onto Avery’s arm.

“Cool how?”

Snowdrop took off the mood glasses and passed them to Avery.

“Angry, violent,” Avery murmured, before pulling them off.

The man, kneeling on the ground, face pressed against forearms, which were in the mud, hands gripping the back of his head, screamed into the ground.

There were others in the woods.

“Come on.  Eyes closed.  Let’s try this again.”

Verona shut her eyes, trusting Avery.  She felt that lurching sensation again.

Another rough fall  Ice crusted over snow scraped against Verona’s leg, hurting without getting past her jeans.

“The fuck?” Avery asked.

“It’s this place,” Verona said.  “Blood, darkness, staining?  I think we’re bordering on the Abyss and it’s got its grips on us.”

“The black rope can fail if I try to move to some place that’s too far off,” Avery said.  “And distance is weird here.  That might be it.”

“The whoosh-doosh thing,” Verona said, making expansion and shrinking motions with her hands.

“I can’t respect the whoosh-doosh,” Snowdrop replied.  “Grow up.”

“Fucking gross mud,” Verona groaned, picking herself up.  “This is Maricica, right?  They’re her people?”

“Seems like,” Avery said.  “Were they waiting for us?  Did someone leak where we’d be?”

“Maybe,” Verona replied.  She looked around.

There was a pack of children in the woods.  They had animal hides stapled on over winter clothing.  Haphazard, to add the extra bulk and warmth.

When they stopped, crouching, looking around, Verona could see they had eyes like Alpeana.  Fully black.  One girl had the skin from an adult human face stapled around the edges of his or her hood, and there was another, Verona couldn’t tell the gender, who had fragments of animal skulls connected together- the eye sockets of multiple animals forming a loose ring, the jagged and uneven edges of skull radiating around the front edge of their parka, black eyes with black paint darkening the skin around them peering through two of the holes.

Very slowly, Verona lowered her profile, so she peered through bushes at them.

They whispered together.  One said something in response to a low word from the skull-eyes-face one, and the one with human face skin cuffed them hard on the back of the head.  Then, because winter clothing was thick and the hit wasn’t hard enough or the response wasn’t enough for her tastes, she went after them, shoving them forward, face into mud, knee resting on their cheekbone, breathing hard.

Even when angry, they didn’t speak over a whisper.

Avery seized Verona’s wrist.

One of the boys, crouching low, eyes roving, had stopped, facing them.

Had seen them.

Whispered a single word.

The others, except for one that was still being knelt on, all turned to look their way.

With a better view of the face-skin, Verona could see three diagonal slashes in the skin, starting at upper lip and going to bottom lip.

“You don’t want to do that,” Verona whispered at them.  She used the Sight, to turn her eyes purple.

They couldn’t hear, but saying the words made it easier to feel a little more menacing when crouching like she was.

She’d had practice, working with Kennet below.

The man from earlier shouted again, screaming at the ground, inarticulate.

The entire group, except for eyesockets-face, turned to look at the man.

Eyesockets-face pointed in the direction of the man.  Then, simultaneously with the group, they moved in that direction.  Their bodies relatively light, often crouching, using hands as well as feet to find solid ground in the mud.  Spreading out.

There were two in the branches above, Verona realized.  One small and one with hatchets lashed to broken, decaying hands with fingers pointing off and back in weird directions.  The axes were hooked over branches or occasionally ‘tok’ed into wood as they swung their way over.

The one who’d been knelt on, a girl, pulled herself up, choking and breathing hard.  She hunched over, then cough-vomited out the mud and blood that had gotten into her mouth and throat.

It took two and a half or three goes before she was clear enough to breathe properly.  She stared in their direction for a long while before moving in the direction her pack had gone.

“Let’s get going,” Avery whispered.

“Won’t say no.”

“I don’t think we’re in the Abyss proper,” Avery murmured, as they moved across mud.  “But we’re getting there.  It’s like… if this place counts enough coup against us, it could drag us down.”

“What got us here in the first place?”

“Being close to what happened before,” Avery said.  “The car-eating part.”

Verona nodded.

That was worrying.  Because it didn’t seem like there was a direct involvement in that happening.

“The Abyss is a referential, adjacent space.  Like the Ruins, but less overlappy.  If you’re in a forest in the real world and you move to the Abyss, you’re going to end up in a forest.  But it won’t always map, one to one.  Especially as you move deeper.  This sort of maps.”

Verona nodded.  She could vaguely see the Abyss-ified version of the road.

“You know how the Warrens, if you go, you go one mile, and you pop up and you end up somewhere that’s seven miles ahead?”

“Yeah,” Verona replied.  She glanced at Snowdrop.

“Don’t look at me.  I’m not that good at going through Warrens,” Snowdrop said.

“The Abyss is a bit the opposite.”

“Okay, so how do we move out and up?”

“I think we just move in a straight line.  Away from the center of that.”

Verona nodded.

“The expression on that one woman’s face-” Avery muttered.

“What?”

“Gets to me.  Like… so into it, so okay with being bloody.  It feels as if she had the ability, she’d die to hurt others, pushed by that feeling.”

“Zeal,” Verona said.

“Yeah.  Zeal.  It’s stuck in my brain.”

“In a practice way or-?”

Verona nodded.  She hadn’t caught on any part of that, but sure.

“It was an old lady, wasn’t it?”

“Oh.  Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”

“Bit of a weakness?  Maybe even one Maricica intended?”

“If this is even intentional.  How would she find us?  Nobody knew except our people, they’d have to be out here in advance.”

“I don’t know,” Verona whispered.  She kind of needed her breath for running.

They passed one tree, hollowed out, with people that reminded Verona of the underdressed, screaming man from earlier.  Dirty, ragged, cold.  Four of them shoulder to shoulder, crammed into a space that really should have had only three, the whites of their eyes the most visible thing in the gloom.  The whites of the gauze that wreathed their spirit blackened and soiled.

“Did Maricica do this?” Avery asked.

Verona huffed.  The air was cold enough it hurt her lungs.

“Is this her world?”

“Doesn’t quite have…” Verona started.

Painful breath.

“…the vibe…”

Painful breath.

“I guess,” Avery said.

“…but it feels like maybe she’s…”

Stumble, grunt.  Snowdrop helped steady her.

“…touching it.”

The blood in the mud.

That felt like it could be Maricica’s influence.

Her hand cramped.  She didn’t want to rub it, because it was muddy.

After they’d run for a while, she had to pull on Avery to get her to stop.  “We’re not wasting energy, right?  My eyes aren’t fooling me?  Tell me we’re getting out.”

The black staining wasn’t as bad.

“I think so.”

Verona nodded.  “But I have to- ugh.”

“Sit, breathe.”

Verona shook her head.

Didn’t want to waste time.

She reached into her bag, and pulled out more flexible strips of paper.  Pressing one against her thigh, she quickly sketched some stuff out.  She pulled out a tin, and got out little miniature versions of the shrine spirit tokens from home.

She reached down the collar of her top, which was hard when it was a pretty standard t-shirt collar, and placed the arrangement of twigs and twine and the strip of paper against her heart.  The paper vacuumed itself up against skin, pressing down at a diagonal, pressing the twigs and twine into flesh.  Emphasis on the in part of ‘into’.  The runes lit up.

“What the hell practice is that?”

“Preliminary Host practices.  Like what Matthew did.”

“Here?”

“Carrying a bit of spiritual power from home,” Verona said.  Her breath fogged, and the fog was black and as painfully hot as it had been cold.  She kept breathing hard, but it didn’t feel like a losing battle anymore.

She straightened.  She felt lighter, warmer.  Her hair stirred around her.

“Won’t last long,” she told Avery.

“Okay.  And side effects?”

“A problem for later.  Bit of a backswing.”

“Okay.”

They resumed moving, and they didn’t have to go far before they stopped again.  Verona heard a dog growl before it showed itself.  Snowdrop flipped around and faced the dog, as it moved through bushes.  A mutt, scarred in ten different ways, so the parts of it where there were fur were coin-sized at best.  It growled as it padded forward.

A sharp click marked a gun being locked and loaded.  Verona leaned to one side.  “Don’t suppose you’re open to negotiation, trade?”

Her voice sounded weird.

A woman’s voice called out, “if I press three fingers to my lips, what does that mean to you?”

Verona looked at Avery.  Avery shrugged.

This felt like a situation where it was a fifty-fifty thing.  If they said something positive, and the woman was on the side of Maricica, maybe they had a chance.  If she wasn’t though, that would count against them.

Honesty was the best policy?

“Not one hundred percent sure I get it, but I think the person that’s tied to, we’re not fans, we’re going after her.”

The dog growled more intensely, moving closer.

Wrong answer?

A single whistle made the dog stop.  He turned hard right, and darted through leafless shrubbery and mud.

“If you dislike her too, I don’t suppose you’d-?” Avery ventured, leaning out.

The bullet chipped off a chunk of wood about an inch above the top of Avery’s forehead.

“I gave you one chance, calling Abattoir off.  I gave you a second, not taking the top of your head clean off.  You don’t belong here.  If you don’t take the fastest way out of here, if you say one word, if you delay, if you fuck around, I’ll start to think you want to be here, and Abattoir and I kill you the slow way.”

Verona pushed on Avery’s shoulder.

They were exposed to another shot from the woman, moving this way, but she somehow believed the intention there.

They moved straight away.

Verona glanced back, and saw the woman, strong jaw, black hair, dressed a bit like a cowboy, carrying an old fashioned rifle.  She looked like she’d been down here a while.

They forged their way out, further from the shallows, and Verona could feel a lurch in her stomach as they crossed an expanse of distorted space.  Moving from an uphill climb to what was basically an easy downhill walk with a rollercoaster style transition.

“You’re so light,” Avery remarked, tugging on Verona’s arm.

“Petite and spirit infused.”

“You good?”

Verona nodded.

It was easier to not sink into the mud, especially with Avery’s help.

They rushed forward, without Verona as the dead weight.

Back into daylight.  Where spirits were mostly clean.

The lights of a police car around the bend suggested they’d barely traveled a half mile down the road.

She could see where the car had hit the snowbank, but there was no trashed car.

How did that work?  What was the mechanism?

Had the people died in the flipping of the car?  Verona didn’t get that impression.  The roof hadn’t collapsed in that much.

“Ronnie.”

Verona pressed her front against a tree for cover and looked around the trunk to see the direction Avery was pointing.  Avery still wore the mood glasses.

A car slowed as it approached the flashing lights.  A cop stepped out into the road, hand up, and they stopped.

To her Sight…

Black stained.  Blood-streaked.

“There’s people in the field,” Avery said, pointing to indicate.

Further down the road, opposite direction from the crash site, trees broke up and there was a snow-covered field.  Some people leaned against a fence.  Bloody and black-stained.

“Guessing they called in reinforcements during that pause, while we were making the glamoured duplicates,” Verona replied.

Avery exhaled hard.

Verona’s hand cramped.  She wiped her glove off as best as she could in clean snow, then peeled it off.  The mud had soaked through to the hand below.  She wiped that in snow too.

The vague spirit residing in and around her heart, which hadn’t been properly turned into a hallow, meaning it was a surface level hosting for a surface level benefit, it at least kept her warmer.

Still, the snow and the cold made the bones of her hand hurt, and it didn’t help the cramping.

It did get it clean enough that after a wipe on a clean part of her pants leg and another wipe against snow, she could rub at her palm.

“Ronnie, I think they weren’t waiting for us specifically.  I think they had an army all up and down the perimeter.  These people Maricica is working with.”

“That’s a lot of perimeter.”

“Might be a lot of army,” Avery replied, eyebrows drawn together.

“Maybe they’re cheating.  Some divinity thing, destiny manipulation, to put their pawns in our way?  Or Carmine manipulation, nudging War so conflict happens?”

“Maybe,” Avery murmured.  “What does that do for us now?  By the schedule, we’re five minutes in, and we really don’t want to be too late.”

“Can we get through?”

“If the black rope is working again.”

“Eyes closed?”

“Bush…” Avery pointed.  “Trees.”

Copse of trees near the field.

“Trees are close to that other group.”

“There’s not a lot of cover, going past the field.  But that’s the direction we want to go.”

“Okay,” Verona agreed.

Avery wrapped an arm around Verona’s shoulders.  A slightly muddy Snowdrop was sitting in her hood, peering over.

Verona closed her eyes.

They skipped forward.

Bush.  The twigs and things jabbed Verona and whisked against the dense wool of her coat.

Verona did her best to remain still, suppressing her breath, opening her eyes for a brief moment to take stock.

They weren’t spotted.

She closed her eyes again as Avery punched out.

More trees.

Avery pushed on her shoulder, and the two of them ran through the woods, Avery getting a bit ahead, pulling out her phone, checking.

“We’re through,” Avery said.  “Keep an eye out.”

Verona nodded.

They went deeper.

Every realm of the Judges was typically marked.  A bloodied animal for the Carmine domain, a doe or white furred or white-feathered beast for the Alabaster.

The threshold here was marked with ornamentation.

Was supposed to be.

“What the fuck?” Avery asked.  “We didn’t get lost or something, going through the Abyss?  We didn’t stop journeying toward the Aurum, right?”

“Doesn’t feel like we should’ve,” Verona replied, but she felt like Avery probably had a better sense of that stuff than she did.

“Is he hiding?  Is he not responding?  Can he not respond?”

“Dunno, dunno, no.”

They found a clearing in the woods and stopped.

“What?” Avery asked, lost, turning around.  Her voice broke slightly with the emotion in the moment.  All this build up and…

“Let’s think it through,” Verona replied.  She anxiously rubbed at her palm.  “Back to basics.”

“Sure,” Avery replied.  She looked anxious.  Snowdrop craned nose forward to lick the edge of Avery’s jaw, and Avery barely seemed to notice.

“Basic idea here, it’s rooted in old ways.  It’s founded in the ways that independent, non-Judge Alabasters handled things.  And others.  There were gods who you had to seek audience with them, similar deal, long journeys, usually with requirements.”

Avery nodded.

“So when Solomon did what he did, setting up the seal, he kind of standardized all of it, right?  Into a status quo or whatever.”

“That doesn’t help us here.”

“I know.  Just… I know.  The Alabaster’s roles distilled down to there being a way.  A way out, a way to find sanctuary.  In acting that out, they’d choose heroes to handle problems, they’d offer sanctuary, give gifts, clean up messes.  They were common enough in the New World that became the blueprint here.  Rules get slightly different elsewhere… depending on those areas.  Did the Aurum use the fact he ties into the international, internet, trade, communication, alter the rules?”

Avery shrugged, then frowned, shaking her head.  “No, no, I don’t believe that’s doable, because the whole idea of practice is practice, ritual, rote, establishment.  I don’t think he can throw off that much establishment.  Especially when he gave most of his power to Charles and Charles isn’t in a position to repay it.”

“And there’d be signs, feels like.  Can’t just pull the rug out from under people on that level.”

They looked around the empty clearing.

“Right?” Verona asked.

Avery ran her fingers through the hair on both sides of her head.

The paper and twigs at her upper chest itched in a bad way, and Verona dug into her collar to get it and pull it free.  It felt like tearing a band-aid off.

And the aftermath felt worse.  She doubled over, coughing a wet, heavy cough, and when the cough didn’t stop, she sat down.

“Are you okay?”

Verona coughed and hacked, and spat phlegm out.  She wiped her mouth with the back of one hand.  Then she coughed more.

“I’m guessing no.  But are you going to be okay enough?”

Verona nodded, coughing still.  It felt like something was rattling in her lungs.

Avery turned, looking around.

Trees, snow, and nothing.

“What the hell?” Avery asked.

It took a few minutes before Verona was done with the worst of it.

“Maybe we did interrupt our journey?  We didn’t have a continuous enough trip?  Or it wasn’t us traveling because we had Cliff driving?  We stopped too long to hug my mom?  We stopped counting as if we were moving toward the Aurum when we were pulled off track and into the Abyss?”

Verona shook her head.

Then she motioned, and Avery helped her stand.

It felt like she’d have a bad cough for a while.

Worth it, though.  Bit of Halflight-category practice under her belt.  Next time would be easier.  And it had given her the ability to keep going through that mud and everything else, without being a dead weight to Avery.

“Has it not been a day?  Stupid Fae trick?” Avery theorized.

“We-!” Verona raised her voice.  She took a second to make sure she fully had her breath before she tried again.  “We call on old precedent!  On establishment and well-traveled ways!  There are higher powers that oversee things!”

She took a second, gasping to get air into lungs that didn’t feel especially great.

“It’s our right!  We traveled the long way, we came to you, Aurum!  Answer, present yourself!  If you have an issue with how we did it, come tell us to our faces!  By the Seal!”

The forest didn’t answer.

“Don’t ignore us!” Avery shouted.  “We demand an audience!  By the Seal!”

The trees stirred.  Fog rolled out.

“The hell?” Verona asked.

She was about as tall as the trees, which were about twenty feet up, here.  She wore golden armor with limbs too slender to properly hold her up, each ‘face’ of the armor etched with images of rolling clouds and figures with halos that didn’t look like the usual sort- one tall, narrow image on one side of the shin, depicting a bearded man cavorting in clouds, halos at hands and head.  A tall, narrow image on the other side of the shin, a bull with a halo.

The chest and body seemed large, ill-fitting to the slender limbs.  Verona used ‘she’ in her head, but aside from an upswept, forward chest, vaguely evocative of how armor might contour around breasts, there was no real gender.

A decorative ruff radiated out from the collar, and on that ruff, a group of cherubic infants formed a ring around an empty void that showed the inside as hollow.  Each infant had luxurious, wavy golden hair that was in vast, vast excess to what an infant should have, some lying on it or playing with it.  It collected and hung behind the figure’s back, and trailed on the ground behind it, which wasn’t snow or dirt.  Marble path.

Mist became clouds, and clouds flowed from behind the figure, obscuring the trees.  When fully obscured, they disappeared.

Others gathered behind.  A crowd of what appeared to be spirits, and people with a weird look to them.  Once Verona connected the thought of spirit and people with very specific styles, she recognized them as Animus spirits.  Like Dog Tags or Librarians.

The figure raised its arms, with hands that had golden gauntlets, as if in a vast shrug or a demonstration.  ‘Here I am’.

“By old ways, by Seal,” the armor spoke in a high, dramatic falsetto, “Your audience is granted, travelers.  You have traveled a day to reach here, and I am the closest you’ll find to what you’re asking after.”

Charles had adjusted the stage, with a raised lip at one edge, just thick enough for the feet of his Carmine throne to be planted on it, with one foot resting on the stone surface in front of it.  The other foot was on the seat, hand wrapped over knee, and he leaned forward, watching and listening.  Sometimes glaring, with bearded chin resting on the back of his hand, eyes moving from one person to another.  Sometimes looking as if he might pounce forward.

“Setting a minimum age for awakening people into combat practices disadvantages every one of us who have yet to awaken anyone,” Ann protested.  “My daughter is about to learn the practice.  How many years am I meant to wait?  She should attend a practitioner school, engage with peers.  By waiting she misses out on training when she’s in formative years, with her brain at its most plastic.  Meanwhile, what, Mrs. Ferguson awakens her child at ten or so, he attends the Blue Heron, makes contacts, learns?”

Sol stood behind Mrs. Ferguson, looking very uncomfortable about being talked about.

“That malleable a brain being committed to war is the problem,” Grandfather said, arms folded.

“Who or what even are you?” Ann asked.

“Someone with concerns about child soldiers.”

“He’s the second in command of the Dog Tags of Kennet,” Lucy said.  “Yalda, who was at the core of the Hungry Choir- Devouring Song to some, was his companion for a time.  She was a representation of uncountable wounded innocence in wartime.”

“Yeah,” Grandfather said.

“And your name?” Mr. Palaisy the Valkalla asked.

“I decline to give it.  A good number of the people here would want to bind me for my services.  Some have bound members of my squad.  One, the Carmine, bound Yalda, after she was promised an end.”

Charles, beard on hand, hand on knee, glaring, had a bored and vaguely annoyed voice as he said, “Do you wish to raise that as an issue at this time?”

“I want to take issue with it several times an hour.  But I won’t fight you, if that’s what you mean.”

“Carry on then,” Charles said.  “I’m being called to oversee a duel.  We should reach a natural stopping point and then I’ll see to that.  Those here can break for water, food, and bathroom if they need.”

“How many years am I expected to wait?” Ann asked.

“Your daughter, you mean,” Anthem said.

“One year?  Two?  Five?  The gap between me and peers widens.  I demand compensation for the lost opportunity.”

“Compensation?” Palaisy asked.  “What sort?”

“Let the Carmine arbitrate that.  Equal to the missed opportunities I and my daughter lose.  Make us whole.”

“You want to awaken her at nine,” Lucy replied.  “If you’d chosen to awaken her at three years old, would everyone here owe you eleven or thirteen years of repayment?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  You’re propping up a strawman,” Deb cut in.

“If I raised my daughter well enough she was prepared for awakening at three years of age, yes.”

“Or Ann’s fine with the idea.  Nevermind,” Deb said, turning aside, shaking her head.

“If.  I only say if.”

“Can I ask a question?” Steyn asked.  The Oni practitioner teenager who came from a family.

“Go ahead,” Charles said, slumped in his seat.

“We’re talking about practitioner families, but there are other cases.  Like those who find the practice on their own.  If you set an age limit of sixteen or something-”

“I certainly hope I’m not expected to wait six and a half years to awaken my daughter.”

“Enough,” Charles said.  “Carry on, Damaryon.”

“What happens to kids like me or my friends?  We were shown the practice early.”

“Or,” Mrs. Ferguson said, “What of wild practitioners?”

She fixed her eyes on Lucy.

Mrs. Ferguson smiled.  “I do seem to recall Alexander describing you three as wild practitioners, back in his speech in front of the Blue Heron, summer classes of last year.”

Eyes moved from Lucy to Guilherme and the Dog Tags, who stood behind her left and right shoulders.

“Power for those awakened wouldn’t be stripped away.  I don’t think it could be,” Lucy said.

“What if we found a way to approximate it?” Grayson asked.  He’d fallen back and fallen quiet for a bit.  He stood, stepping forward.  “We could enforce oaths, that you and all below the age limit we decide on swear off practice.”

“That would be a mess,” Ferguson said.  “Ongoing rituals…”

“Magic items,” Lucy said.

“I’d call you a hypocrite,” Mr. Neumann from Montreal growled.  “You want to enforce a limit, but not for yourself.”

“That’s not hypocrisy,” Lucy said.  “I’ll let you know what I’m after, right here, and if I start saying stuff that’s against that, you can call me a hypocrite then.  I want stability.  I want a good way forward.  I want us united, and not so divided we’ve got kids raiding families and kids attacking kids in school, and our families not covering what they need to cover.  Because when we don’t cover shit, it falls to the Carmine to handle.  And right now it seems like he’s got a monopoly on that shit we’re not taking care of, and he’s abusing it.”

Anthem spoke up, “Can you explain your rationale for this specific argument?  It’s the first one you listed, in the sheet you had the goblin deliver me.  Why take issue with children?”

Lucy appreciated that.  Because it could have seemed like an interrogation or an attempt to catch her at something, but the way he handled it, it was like she’d had the conversation, she had to play defense, she fended off the incoming attack from Mr. Neumann, wild as it was, and there was no graceful way to take that and then step forward into something more than just a general statement of intent.

But Anthem replying meant she could now follow up.  Like a bullet in Grayson’s head, buying her another second, to turn a backwards step into a forwards one.

“The papers, as we said repeatedly, are a very rough outline.  But that issue- for one thing, it’s something Charles fixated on, early in his career as Carmine.”

She looked at Charles.  Others did too.

“Gainsaid kids to take them off the field.  Seemed to want to protect them.  But here we are, months later, and he’s got his own unofficial hit squad.  One that attacked the Whitts and Mussers.  That attacked the Belangers and horrified Chase Whitt and Gillian Ross-Belanger.”

Bit of a compromise on the name, for Gillian.

“Coming after us now?” Kira-Lynn asked.

“During that attack,” Lucy carried on, without replying directly, her eyes locked to Kira-Lynn’s, “Joshua Roberts, apprentice to Lenard Lily, asked for his awakening to be revoked.  The Alabaster Doe did handle that, when she didn’t handle a lot of other stuff.  I believe it was pre-arranged.”

“Revoked?” Anthem asked, intrigued.

“Bit sketchy, isn’t it?  Returned to Innocence, removed from the situation, all practice-related connections severed, all ongoing practices shut off.  Consequences and curses revoked.  Now, I don’t know the exact details, but I think when we were mulling over issues, as we saw with Charles, it’s something worth considering.  How we involve youth.  And as we saw with Joshua… there’s some loose nuts that need tightening, aren’t there?”

Kira-Lynn’s stare was a white-hot sort of murderous.  Lucy matched it with a cool one of her own.

“What can you tell us?” Anthem asked.

“That this seems like it’s twisted around to be the best of both worlds.  They’re Charles’, doing his bidding in an abstract way, but not officially.  They’re awakened, but not officially, there’s no commitment, there’s no establishment.”

“We suffer a loss in power by not having that locked down,” one of the boys said.  Stefan?  The one who’d chickened out twice.  Apprenticed under the Dragonslayer.

“But he hands you shovelfuls?  Or someone does?” Lucy asked.

“You got shovelfuls of power,” Grayson said.  “We acknowledged that earlier.”

“I committed.  Don’t say I haven’t.  You can disagree with my methods or line of thinking, you can hate me, you can judge me, you can hate Kennet, whatever.  But don’t say I haven’t been committed.  You guys attacked my town and I was there, blood, sweat, and tears poured into it.  And we rebuffed you.”

“Charles rebuffed us.  Conveniently, overturning everything.”

“Fuck off with that,” Lucy replied.

“Shall we have you fight Abraham Musser?  Same scenario as was described to me, before Charles so rudely interrupted with his fabricated Lords seizing our united territories?  I don’t suppose the Carmine could create a reasonable facsimile?  See if you would win?”

“The situation as was described to you might be something different.  I feel like you’re intentionally sidetracking the discussion.”

“You’re misrepresenting your victory.”

“We kicked ass, we fought, blood, sweat, and tears.  We lost people.  I committed.  That’s what I’m saying.  Them?  Getting back on topic?” Lucy asked, pointing at Kira-Lynn.

“Fuck you,” Kira-Lynn said.

“I think we should define stuff.  Get the Carmine on the record, explaining his logic… if there is any.  How he could protect kids at the start, how he could justify this.  Is he going to put his name on them, call them his?  Or disown them?  And then I’d like to get a firm answer on whether they’re awakened or not.”

“You do seem to be dwelling in the gray areas, Carmine,” Palaisy said.

“Bad dog,” Ann scolded.

“That was the last Carmine, you complete twit,” Charles retorted, standing from his seat.

“So this was what you’re after?” the oldest of the St. Victor’s boys asked.  “You’re a sore loser after Joshua decided he didn’t like Abyssal insanity practice and bailed?”

“Ran from a losing fight and all consequences for his actions,” Lucy said.  “You’re playing fast and loose with the rules?  Don’t complain if the loose rules end up choking you later.”

“To answer the question put to me,” Charles interrupted.  “Yes, I gainsaid children at the Blue Heron.  I granted other mercies, spared boys and girls from ugly ends.  At first it worked.  They played like ordinary children.  They relaxed.  They were free from the worst of their families.  And then, one by one, they were pulled away, out of my region.  They were punished for my gainsaying them.  They were made to fight, with and without practice.  Some were used to attack Kennet, as a roundabout way to get at me.”

“It seems your approach is weak,” Mrs. Ferguson said.

“You’re vile.  So many of you.  I started out hating you.  You, your families, what you put into those families, what you use those families for, preying on the weak.  Too many of you.  But hate’s the wrong word now.  It’s contempt.  You can’t heal the fruit on the branch if the tree keeps feeding it poison.”

“So… to hell with the kids?” Liberty Tedd asked.

“To hell with all of you.  What I’m doing?  Them?” he pointed at Kira-Lynn and Teddy’s group.

“Playing in gray areas?” he asked, looking at Lucy, then Musser Senior, who sat back.  “Cheating the system?”

“Violence?  Raids?  Hoarding power?  Manipulating the masses?  That’s you.  There’s nothing I haven’t done that you all haven’t done first.  But I’ve turned it on you.  When we get down to it, the thing you don’t like is that you’re on the wrong end of it.  I hated you, and hate is clean, but now?  Contempt?  What comes won’t be clean.  You can leave, it won’t change things.”

There were some overlapping voices.

“You can always be threatened.  There’s always something out there with teeth, right?” Lucy asked.

“Very good, Lucy,” Charles growled the words.  Which turned attention toward her.  “You can always be threatened, there’s always something out there with sharp enough teeth.  Whether you’re a Musser or a Forsworn.”

“Or a Carmine?” Anthem asked.

Charles snorted.

“On that note, I’d like to get to the first essential part of the next argument,” Lucy said.  “Defining what it means to awaken.  And as part of that, I think the St. Victor’s kids will need to either commit or decide if they’re backing down.”

If looks could kill, Kira-Lynn was trying to take it a step further and add a slew of other horrific crimes to the list.

“Or we could decide for them,” Grayson suggested.

Kira-Lynn’s head whipped around, fear in her eyes for a fraction of a second there.

“The arrangement was decided with all Judges in attendance,” Charles said.  “You won’t walk that back.”

“Let’s explore it,” Anthem suggested.

“You’re all- all of you?” Kira-Lynn asked.  “Ganging up on us, to protect your empires?”

“I would be careful,” Charles said, looking at Lucy.  “That town you’re so intent on defending, they’re its only protectors, and many see it as a prize.”

Lucy turned her head, looking at Grandfather.  Then at Toadswallow.

“As part of proceedings, I think we should invite some experts to testify, then,” Lucy said.  “Dogs of War to talk about child soldiers, a goblin studied in teaching children.  Tutored the Tedds, defined their practice.”

“Hell yeah!” Liberty chimed in.

“Others?”

“They’re as much a part of this as we are,” Lucy said.  And maybe they can clue me into the situation while we’re at it.

“Get yourselves organized,” Charles said, sounding very much like he loathed having to be in charge of this.  “I’ll handle oversight for a duel, and then I’ll return.”

He stepped down from the raised lip at the stage’s entrance, moving toward its center.  “I loathe so many of you so much.  ‘Bad dog’.  Idiot.”

Then he was gone, moving to distant areas.

That works.  A chance to get the cliff notes, and to figure out how they needed to do this, so Kennet wouldn’t get obliterated if there were no practitioners currently able to guard it.

“Hmmm,” Avery mused for a second.

“Um,” Verona said, looking up at the Other.

“Thank you for granting our audience.  I’m sorry for any rudeness,” Avery said.  “Can I ask what you call yourself?”

“I am Exult Wrought in Abundance.”

Avery glanced at Verona.

“Spirit Lord of this area,” Exult Wrought told them.  The clouds parted further, and Avery could see the trees, mountains, and other landscapes of Canada, shifting in the spirit world.  As they shifted, a kingdom was revealed, mixed modern and fantasy.  The humanoid spirits and people in the Spirit Lord’s area looked back at the place they probably called home.

“And you’ve supplanted the Aurum Coil?” Verona asked.

“Or… did we get this wrong?”

“The Aurum Coil’s territory is not here.”

“Where is it?” Verona asked, interrupting Avery before Avery got a word out.

“A short journey west or north.”

“Was- was it here?” Avery asked.

“It was, once.”

“The borders moved?”

“They did.”

“To screw up our timing?” Avery asked, looking at Verona.

“I cannot speak to the intentions of a power that does not reside within my realm,” the spirit that appeared as a golden suit of armor told them.  “You asked for an audience, that is your right.  Now, what do you want of me?”

One of the animus spirits stepped forward, looking up.  A little boy with binoculars.

The Lord Spirit Exult Wrought knelt, lowering its ‘head’ to the boy’s level.  The boy spoke to it.

The spirit straightened.

“The Aurum Coil bartered with us a day prior, I’m told this was a ploy, aimed at you.”

“What was the deal?” Avery asked.

“A generous offer, but one I may not share the particulars of.  That is one of the few things he asked of me, for the abundance he gives.”

“He’s running,” Avery said, looking over at Verona.  She looked up at the Lord Spirit.  “Over there, if we travel in that direction, we’ll be in the Aurum’s domain?”

“That is difficult to answer.  If I were to tell you the specifics, I would be in violation of the deal struck with my neighbor.”

“But you said it’s a short journey that way?” Avery asked.  “Oh.”

“For someone else, but not necessarily for us,” Verona said.  “Is that it?  We go that way, and by the deal, you get that territory we’d walk into?”

“I cannot say.  By the Seal, matters are being looked after.”

“Another angle?” Verona asked.

Avery shook her head.  “What do you want to bet that’s not going to work?  He saw how we approached the Alabaster, and he’s accounted for it.  They’ve got guards on the perimeter, he’s struck deal with powers in neighboring regions.”

“What if we approached from the city?  Ottawa?” Verona asked.

“It doesn’t have to be all connected.  Musser chopped up Charles’ territory with his Lordships, and Charles did fine.  I’m betting if we tried, we’d find that when we call out for the Aurum, we get someone else instead, because he’ll have abdicated a minute beforehand, or something.  Why like this?  He’s weakening himself.”

“Better weak than challenged and dead, I guess?” Verona guessed.

Avery ran her fingers through her hair again.  She looked up at the Lord Spirit.  “Sorry, we’re having a whole other conversation without you.”

“I fear I have been unintentionally drawn into a ploy against you.  I bear no malice, and I am patient.  Say what you must between you before your audience ends.”

“The future holds her cards close to her chest,” Verona said.  “I think that’s how I phrased it?”

“The Aurum’s principle?”

Verona shrugged.

“Fuck,” Avery muttered.  “Um-”

“Let’s assume we can’t do anything about it,” Verona said.  “If we can’t get an audience with the Aurum, because he’ll retreat and cede territory to a neighbor before we do…”

“How can we use this?  Cover a lot of ground?” Avery asked.

“That might be weird, and if we can’t cut off territory, if Musser couldn’t with Lordships, I don’t know how we do it here.”

Avery blinked a few times.  “Hold my stuff?”

“Sure.”

“And my Snowdrop?”

Verona took Snowdrop.  “Yeah.  What are you thinking?”

“I prepped… I haven’t been using animal forms.  Here.  Lord Spirit?  Exult Wrought in Abundance?”

“Yes?”

“May I exit and re-enter?”

“You may, if it’s timely.”

“A few minutes?”

“You may.”

“Thank you.  I really appreciate it.”

“You’ve been kind to spirits.  You call one kin.”

Avery reached over to Verona and gave Snowdrop a rub on the head.  “Yeah.  She walks a weird line between Lost and spirit.”

Snowdrop sneezed.

Getting an envelope out, with a sticker of a bird on it, Avery pulled out the feather and accompanying glamour.

She let that glamour fall around her as she pulled it out.  Adopting the form of a falcon.  She’d bought feathers at a fairy market while running around setting things up before the Musser confrontation.

She took flight.

I’ve got minutes, she thought.  The speed was a rush.  The mind of a bird viewed the world at a different rate, though, and many things dragged at her attention.  She thought of Declan, and how distractable he could be, and the other stuff tied into it.

Minutes.  Time she wasted was time Lucy was fighting to give them.

She did a long loop, avoiding entering or passing over a town.

And while she did, she could see Maricica’s soldiers.  People who were in or near cars, people in the town, talking.  Here and there, they brought fingers to lips, as a signal or religious observance.  Like they were smoking a cigarette, but with index, middle, and ring finger together.

She went back, swooping.  She could see more of Maricica’s soldiers.  The zealots.

Avery became human as she landed, landing in a crouch, feathers scattering and flying forward and out, caught by wind.

“We asked earlier, where the Aurum’s territory was,” Avery said, before she’d fully straightened.

“You did,” the Lord Spirit replied.

“I have a map.  Can you tell me, is this the Aurum’s territory or yours?”

She showed the Lord Spirit, who bowed down.  Long locks of hair like spun gold slipped from shoulder to touch marble, where spiritstuff overwrote the real.

“That is mine.”

Avery moved her finger.

“Mine as well.”

Avery moved her fingertip to the town.

“Mine as well, now.”

“What’s up?” Verona asked.

“We can’t cut off territory by passing by it, separating it, but we can loop around it,” Avery replied.  “I didn’t go into or over the town.  I didn’t even approach it, exactly.  I did a long loop around.  And all the space inside that loop is this Spirit’s, now?”

“It is,” the Lord Spirit said.

“If we can’t meet the Aurum, let’s make him meet us,” Avery told Verona.  “The Aurum is urban, progress, innovation, money…”

“Yeah.”

“I say you fly, I do my thing, and we see how many population centers, financial nodes, and other key Aurum things we can take from him, using his deal against him.”

“Until he cries uncle?” Verona asked.  “It’s pretty fitting, I guess?”

“Fitting?” Avery asked, taking her stuff back.

“For you and me?  Our dynamic as a pair?”

Avery shook her head.  “Not sure I get what you mean.”

“Like, me and Lucy, put us together, we go over the top.  We go all-in.  In different ways.”

“Sure, yeah.”

“And that was our friendship, having each other over, and hobbies and projects and binging stuff and in practice, dealing with the Undercity… it works.”

“Works, yeah,” Avery said, frowning a bit.

“You and Lucy, you care.  In different ways, still.  You care about right and good and love and-”

“You do too.”

“I know.  Like, you go over the top too, don’t get me wrong.  Founding, right?  But just… where we meet, the default, as pairs.  And for you and me?  It’s fun, it’s goofing around- I always have a good time with you, Ave.  You make hard stuff feel easy.”

Avery nodded.

“The Aurum makes his contests a game, and here we are.  How fast do you think we can take Toronto from him?  Or fake London, or Waterloo, or…?”

“Kennet,” Avery replied, voice soft.

“Yeah,” Verona replied.  She smiled.  “That would be the play to make, right?”

“That takes time,” Avery said.  “The region is big.”

“Maybe if I’m not a bird?” Verona asked.  “Something faster.”

She pulled out her phone.

“Is this okay?” Avery asked the Lord Spirit.  “You won’t get upset at weird region shapes and added responsibility?  It won’t be a political nightmare?”

“It should be fine.”

“Okay,” Avery said.

“I wish we could figure out more of the rules.  What gets taken, how, who.  If it’s just any generic thirteen year old who goes looking, I could recruit a bunch,” Verona muttered.  “Weather report says we’ve got strong winds.  I can use that.”

Avery nodded.

“On the subject of consequences, which I just mentioned” the Lord Spirit said.  “We are not alone.”

“I saw them as I flew in,” Avery replied.  To Verona and Snowdrop, she said, “They’re converging on us.”

“They’re more dangerous than you know,” Exult Wrought told them, her voice soft.

“Then I’d guess I’d better make like the wind, huh?” Verona asked, already pulling out glamour.

“And I’d better get lost,” Avery responded.

Next Chapter