Author: Wildbow

Hard Pass – 22.2 | Pale

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My practice is weaker, Verona thought, as the spell cards set off a series of explosions near the perimeter.  Smaller explosions than they normally would’ve been.  By half.

She really hoped that was from setting up the Aurum contest.

The Girl by Candlelight surged out of the perimeter, eyes aglow, looking, and Verona went very still, crouching.

A distant detonation of a fire rune hit the perimeter.  With the way Edith had extended herself along the border, she felt it, and immediately responded, leaping into action, becoming less material so she could race along the barrier.

Verona stepped out of cover.

Was it even possible for the Girl by Candlelight to hurt her?  She wasn’t sure.  Really, it was one of those things that was really hard to test.  Like, if Charles had found a way around it, if he’d done something just like what he’d told Avery about, way back after they’d just awoken, gone off to meet Judges and then come back, capitalizing on the fact that the Others could get around the oaths they’d made if they were acting on instinct?

Maricica, fueled by the Abyss, could probably do that.  Edith, now some twisted spirit-echo thing of arsonist and Abyssal traces and fire spirits?  Could probably ride on instinct enough to burn an intruder and then get away with it.

Or if not probably, at least possibly.  And if it was possible, Verona didn’t want to test it.

Avery had crossed her mind as she’d thought about all that.  She didn’t leave Verona’s head after that.  A dull headache buzzed at the back of her skull, and her stomach felt permanently clenched, like she could throw up if she’d done more than snack all through today.

But this way, she and the Turtle Queen could approach the barrier, and let that orange glow begin to darken.  The edges of it crackled gold.

The Turtle Queen stepped up to the barrier, put an arm out, and created a kind of hole in that shimmering effect.

There was pushback.  The Turtle Queen stumbled back, arm up, and then pushed Verona forward through the hole, then stepped through after her, putting Verona behind her.  Edith emerged, materializing in a swirl of echostuff mingled with wax, and small motes of flame that became fat licks of fire, that became substance.  She consolidated into her regular form, eyes blazing orange.

“We’re not allowed to harm her,” the Turtle Queen said.  “You’re not technically supposed to harm me.”

The Girl by Candlelight didn’t seem to hear.  The air shimmered around her like it was heating up.

“Girl by Candlelight, Girl by Candlelight-”

The Girl by Candlelight reached a hand up, the heat shimmer and motes of fire gathering up around her hand.  Verona had seen that before.  When the Girl by Candlelight had set invading Others on fire by gesturing at them.

The Turtle Queen stepped forward, arm striking out.  As Edith’s hand came down, the Turtle Queen met it, wrist crossing wrist, a backhand slap.

Fire roared through the air as the Girl by Candlelight’s hand went sideways.  Verona backed up another step, then stepped sideways so the Turtle Queen was between her and the Girl by Candlelight.  “-Girl by Candlelight.  I address you as Verona Hayward, practitioner of Kennet.”

The Girl by Candlelight snapped her head around, looking at Verona.

“Who you’ve sworn to protect.  I know you’ve heard me, now.  And there’s a witness.  Set me on fire, you go too.”

“Try, and you go too,” the Turtle Queen told the Girl by Candlelight.  “You might not succeed.”

“Edith James made the deal.”

“You and Edith James entered the Awakening circle at the same time.  You partook of the vegetable ash we offered to the Others, as part of the Awakening ritual.  You-”

The Girl by Candlelight turned abruptly.  Stepping back into the perimeter.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t protect Edith,” Verona said, to the spirit’s back.

There was a pause, and then the Girl by Candlelight was gone, by the same mechanism she’d used to arrive.

Verona sighed.

She looked over at the Turtle Queen.  “Hey?”

“We can go.”

“Wanted to say, um, English sort of fails, so let’s take it up a level.  You’re a real mensch, T.Q.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Don’t understand it?”

“I speak a multitude of languages.  What I mean is I’m only doing as I agreed, when I swore what I needed to swear to stay in Kennet.”

“You’ve gone above and beyond, I think.  More than, say, Gashwad.  Thanks.”

“Be careful when leaving.  You’ll run into something similar.”

“Noted.  Got it,” Verona said.  She turned toward Kennet.  “Guess we’re figuring out a route to Kennet found.  That should be where Lucy is.”

“I can show you the nearest way.”

“Sounds good.  Hey, T.Q.?”

“What?”

“As a being that’s big on, uh, appropriation, do you know if it’s cultural appropriation to use ‘mensch’ like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Damn.”

She was put in mind of Avery wondering out loud about the witch hats.  Similar line of thought.

That stomach-gnawing feeling dug into her.

She paused on the walk down the hill, looking over at the ski hill.  “It’s not as busy.”

“Some left when things got violent.  Some are leaving because it’s time.”

“I missed a big chunk of it, huh?”

“Yes.”

“There’s March Break.  Not quite the same, but eh.”

“Let’s hope.”

Let’s hope, yeah.  Let’s hope that we can get that far, that everything’s okay, that Avery’s…

Verona didn’t want to dwell, and it felt like every line of thought and conversation turned back to the same idea, so she didn’t talk.  Her bracelet ticked as people watched her.

All roads of thought might’ve led to the same topic, but here, it was a specific route that led from the tail end of Kennet above to the tail end of Kennet found.  Through trees, around a bend, then straight between a series of paired trees.  The sky got lighter by a measure with every set of trees they passed between.

And then they rounded another bend, stepped down a series of staggered rocks in a cliffside, and they had a view of Kennet found.

One part of it.

The town had a faint blue tint, from twilight sky, from snow, from architecture, but there was an obvious point in the middle that was red-tinted.  Even if she hadn’t seen this from the Promenade, she would’ve known where to go.

Verona put on her mask, with its three pieces in faintly different textures.

Passing some buildings, she could see the people they’d rescued from the Undercity.  Refugees that the Family Man had foisted on them, wearing blindfolds, mingling with Lost.

Verona idly wondered how the mask sensibility worked.  Luna Hare got fussy about it, in the same way Verona would be weirded out if someone went nude downtown, but how did that work?  If a blindfold worked, but a mask that left the eyes uncovered also worked, how did that translate?  Was one like a woman going out topless, and one like a guy going out with a shirt on but no pants?  Was just the token acknowledgement necessary?  Were there key parts of the face?  Was the bridge of the nose between the eyes the equivalent of, like, the taint, between the bits and the butthole?

Or was it about identity as a conceit?  Exposing your Self becoming some equivalent to exposing yourself?

It was the kind of line of thinking that would normally lift her spirits and distract her, but it wasn’t working here.

“You’re supposed to be safe here,” the Turtle Queen said.

“That’s the idea.  Anthem fudged it, though.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Verona shrugged.  “You could.  I mean, if there’s info to be had, and if we end up having to replace Freeman, could be good for you to know more of what’s going on.”

The Turtle Queen stared at her.

“Just saying.”

“The Dogs of War are busy, so I’ll patrol.”

“Sure.  That works,” Verona said.

And the Turtle Queen was already gone.

“Was sort of hinting that yeah, the company would be nice, but eh.”

Her stomach felt like she’d been punched.

She walked down the slope of the hill and into Kennet found.  The way to the center island was a convoluted course of going up a set of stairs, over a bridge, across a rooftop, down stairs… that just got her to the periphery.  Instead, she reached up to a frozen clothesline and unhooked a hanger from it.  She re-hooked it further down, stepped up onto a fence, and then slid.

The clothesline was connected to a network of other clotheslines, and as her weight pulled it down, it revealed that network, as a spiderweb criss-crossing that went over the river.  She crossed the water, stopped at a fence where multiple lines crossed to re-hook it, one gloved hand holding the line down to where she could reach it, and then crossed another line.  A few heads turned her way.

It looked like the practitioners had pulled back a bit, and were in some groups.  Verona didn’t approach the main stage, but walked around the edge to where Toadswallow and Miss stood.

Lucy flashed her a smile, said something to Guilherme, then stepped away, navigating her way over to Verona.

It looked like a lot of practitioners were stepping away like that.  No surprise- it was late.

“…I carry my home on my back,” Killwagon said.  “Do we count that or not count it?”

“Are we really going to break down the definition of ‘home’?  Must we do it for every type of Other with their own unique scenarios?” Mrs. Ferguson asked.  She turned toward Grayson and Musser Senior.  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be cranky.”

“It is getting late,” Grayson said.  “As has been repeatedly established at this point.  I see Hayward has arrived.  Is it safe to say we’ve finished what we came here to do?”

“In terms of the rules?” Lucy asked.  “Killwagon and others have waited patiently for their turns.”

“They’re Others, they have stamina to outlast most of us here.  Is it your intention to prolong this thing, give them the stage when we’re all too exhausted to pay attention?  Let’s end it,” Grayson said.

“It’s my intention to let Others have the stage.”

“And they’ve taken it for the last three and a half hours, by my estimation, with one brief break for a duel,” Mrs. Ferguson said.

“Good,” Lucy replied.

“Let’s end this,” Grayson said.

“Are you done?” Lucy asked Killwagon.  “I didn’t get the feeling you were.”

“No, not done,” Killwagon said.  “If homes and practitioner council locations are meant to be protected then let’s extend that to places where Others make their home and hold council.”

“That can be exploited,” Grayson said.

“Well gee whiz golly,” Killwagon barked out, with a bit of a laugh.  “Glad we’re getting out ahead of that before we allow Practitioners to do it.”

“If the area is going to be a hub for a market of organized Others and practitioners-” Lucy started.

“Enough, gods and spirits,” Ann groaned.  “Your damn pet project of a market.  You don’t have a market.  You had one, but you lost it.  Your town is held by occupying forces, let’s not waste words and hours on a dream.”

“We can rebuild if we have to.”

“And every penniless man is a temporarily inconvenienced millionaire?  Be realistic.”

“Fuck realism.  We live in a world with magic, curses, personifications of war-” Lucy said, indicating Grandfather.

“Minor representative animus, let’s not encourage delusions of grandeur in the rank and file Others,” Ann replied.

“Oh, you want to attack my friends, now?  People I’ve fought alongside?  Yes, let’s absolutely encourage legitimate grandeur in all kinds of Other.  Let’s enable small goblins to build great projects, or get involved in trade, or find a niche working with other kinds of Other.  Let’s see fairies and goblins mingle, because-”

There was some booing from the goblin contingent.

“-because it’s way more interesting to have them around to interact with, annoy, be annoyed by, befriend, even?”

There were still some continued boos from the goblins.

“Let’s let the Dogs of War actually fucking live, instead of worrying about being bound,” Lucy said.  “Being fucking enslaved and send off to fight until they’re spent.”

Verona glanced at Grandfather.  His expression was unreadable.

“Lofty,” Grayson said, with a note of derision.  “But-”

“Did you bring them, by the way?”

Grayson sighed.  “Did you wait to ask, to count some coup?”

Lucy shrugged.

Grayson turned to someone who’d come up with him- young but not one of the attendees of the Blue Heron that Verona had come across.  He got an envelope.  “Conferred to me by other practitioners of War, to be delivered to you, as agreed on by all parties.  They will render their payment to me for the delivery, you will make your payment to them, I imagine-”

“Already handled.”

“And the matter is closed with your receipt of the package.”

Lucy looked at Grandfather.  He paused, like he was deliberating on approaching Grayson, that little niggling worry about him being the subject of some long con.  Then he walked forward, until he was right in front of Grayson.  He took the steel gray envelope, walked halfway back to Lucy, and tipped the contents out into his hand.

“Four.”

“I asked around, squeezed that one in last minute.”

He nodded, looking down at the mess of chains and dog tags.  Then he picked one out and threw it.  “Midas.”

The new Dog Tag materialized.  Dirty blond hair, in the sense it was actually dirty, and he had a bit of a scrunched-up face, up until he smiled, and his mouth went wide.  He smiled, and there was a gold tooth in that smile.  “Grandfather, was it?”

“Yeah.”

“Got me out, somehow?”

“Let’s talk later.  There’s a lot going on.”

“Mmm.  You’re in charge.”

“For now, but look to Horseman, later.”

“Will do.”

“And the teenage girl there.”

Midas glanced at Lucy, then nodded, smile dropping from his face.

“Foggy.”

Foggy was big, with glasses, and a face that made Verona think a caveman had had a baby with one of the doughy bullies from a kids show.

“Whistle.”

Whistle was a woman, and she came with a dog.  A German Shepherd.

“Trick.”

Trick looked a lot like Horseman, in terms of being a guy that looked more like he was sixteen than twenty-five.  Long face, long nose, deep brown skin and curly black hair, with an expression that would’ve otherwise been a stone cold poker face- if it wasn’t for eyes that held sadness in a different way than John’s had.    Lucy had dug into that, trying to convey to Verona what John was all about, early on, after he’d held them at gunpoint.  Trick looked like he could cry.  John had looked like he was wounded.

The number four was coming up a lot.

“Are we even clinging to the pretense that we’re holding this meeting, still?” Charles asked, from his seat, throne perched on the raised lip at one end of the stage.  Verona wanted to push him, so throne and Carmine alike would tip over backwards and into the cold water.  It wouldn’t work and she couldn’t anyway, but she wanted to.

Fuck.  Even that mental picture couldn’t drag her heart up from that clenched, twisted-up point in her stomach where it felt like it had sunken and gotten stuck.  No levity.  No nothing.

Even though this was a big fancy meeting and Lucy was scoring a win against Charles and people that annoyed them by dragging it out, and even though they were giving the Others a voice, Verona really wanted this meeting over so she could talk to Lucy.

“Let me talk to Verona for a moment.”

“In spirit of the law, it’s obvious your motives lie with something far from this moot- you’re focused on the Aurum, not the Carmine.  By that measure, we weaken this charade,” Charles said.  “In letter of the law, we’ve had more digressions than duel recently.  Put together-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Musser Senior cut in.  “The Mussers are an old family, well versed in matters of war, I draw on the family name to tell you to cease.  I want this over with, but not on your terms, Carmine.”

“Or do you want to get into a knock-down, drag-out fight with the Mussers on a matter of clout and responsibility?” Mr. Songetay asked.

“Have your aside,” Charles said, glowering.

Lucy skipped across icy patches on the water to get to Verona.  “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How are we doing?”

“I don’t know one hundred percent.  Um.”

How was she even supposed to bring up the Avery situation?  That Avery was incommunicado on a level she hadn’t even been on the Forest Ribbon Trail?

“Marcy pulled some bullshit, threatened to drop everyone and everything here into the Abyss.”

“Did she now?” Charles asked, from the sidelines.  He shifted position.  Verona wasn’t sure if he was asking legitimately or being coy.

Lis had appeared behind Charles with his question.  Verona wasn’t the absolute best at reading people- Avery had a better sense of people on a social level, and Lucy was more perceptive about details.  But if she had to guess, Lis didn’t seem the most sure about whether Charles was legitimate or coy either.

“It’s complicated,” Verona told Lucy.  “Seems like the Aurum contest is underway.  Freeman and the Aurum.”

“So we did it?”

“I dunno.  I think so.  Just to warn you, our power level seems to have dipped.  Called in a lot of power from Kennet.”

“And we don’t have much to spare,” Grandfather said.  He’d come back over to the end of the stage, where he and the new Dog Tags joined Doe, Ribs, Mark, and Guilherme.  “Things haven’t been great.”

“Yeah,” Verona replied.  To Lucy, she said, “Spell card explosions were like, half size, or something.”

“Got it.  We fix Kennet, heal, we get that back, right?”

“Ideally.”

“Okay.  You chose Freeman, then?”

“Yeah.  Don’t like him, don’t like what he did, but he feels more…”

Verona floundered.

“More?”

“Like there’s less gaps.  He’s got hopes, dreams, a conscience.  I could see him holding out, not falling into the role like Bloody Money might, not letting his old self corrupt the role like Tenmercy might.  Really wish I was more of an asshole, so we could’ve chosen the Turtle Queen or that girl, Cassia.”

“Mmm.  It’s better to be kind, at least.”

Verona looked out over Kennet found.  Toward her Demesne.  She kind of wanted to curl up and nurse this stomachache and headache.

Lucy’s eyes flashed red.  Verona resisted the urge to look at Lucy and meet that red gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy asked.

Then, after a pause, which Verona hadn’t found it in her to stick words into, Lucy added.  “Where’s Avery?”

“Don’t know.”

“You don’t know where Avery-?”

“She got the Aurum caught up in a meeting, stalled while the potential contestants traveled over, stalled more while we got set up and shared out the info.  I pinged the markets, I did the diagram, I informed Freeman.  I saw the Aurum go to the meeting.  Or something that looked a lot like him.”

“Okay.  I know you’re, like, really cautious normally, about not being gainsaid, you know, when you’re not being dumb…” Lucy said, giving Verona a look.

“Fair.”

“But it seems like you kind of don’t trust what you saw or…?”

“Or something.  I couldn’t get in touch with Avery.”

“You couldn’t-?”

“She finished with the Aurum, he left to go to the Aurum contest.  I reached out, nothing.  I don’t know why, I don’t have the info, it was dangerous to stay out there, but I did a quick loop.  I almost called Nicolette to put me in touch with Chase.”

“Maybe we do that.  After.”

Verona sighed.

Lucy was frowning.

“How are we doing here?” Verona asked.

“Nine hours of this.  With breaks, but… still nine hours.  People are tired.  Even our allies are getting less friendly.  Didn’t think it’d be so long before you guys showed up.”

“Just one me, not ‘you guys’.”

“Yeah.  I know, but let’s refocus, handle what we can.  Trust Avery.”

Verona swallowed, then nodded.

“Age limits on awakening, fourteen.  Ways of handling newly Awakened.  St. Victor’s practitioners had to commit to being Awakened- three ended up bailing.  The Awakening stuff applies retroactively, so they can’t grandfather in the old half-assed way of doing it.”

“Not many here.”

“There were more.”

“I saw.  We stopped at the Promenade and took a peek.  Beat their asses in duels?”

“Had a couple quick ones.  But mostly they went home for dinner.  Crazy, huh?”

“Crazy.”

“Warped fucking world we live in.  Homes, council meeting places, and Churches are protected ground… common provision, but we’re applying it uniformly.  Declaration of war lets you attack someone at home, with enough notice, or immediately, if they breach the terms of fair war, moving things to some other realm or doing anything more than preparing for an even fight or protecting the innocent, young, and vulnerable.  There’s a lot more to it.  We keep coming back to it.  Killwagon wants-”

“Wants some provisions for Others, and presumably Kennet’s council meeting place.  I caught the tail end of that.”

“Yeah.  We have some provisions for declaring major threats of a certain power level… so if we have an escaped Primeval or something, there’s an expectation we handle it.  If Innocents are in danger, there’s an expectation we handle it.  That gets more complicated than I can give you all at once.  What qualifies, what’s dangerous enough.  Basic idea, though, is we go back to the old intentions, practitioners stepping in as wardens and protectors, not just self-profit.”

“Sure, cool.”

“Get karmic reward for that.  We went back to the sanctuary thing, then back to provisions about child practitioners- some people trying to put the screws to us.  Us three.”

God, I hope it’s three.

“And?”

“We’re okay.  Nothing applying retroactively.  Then we got into terms for binding Others and what happens when a practitioner that has an Other bound dies…”

In the background, Killwagon was arguing his case for the protection of his wagon, talking about R.V.s.

“What’s the deal with that?”

“If it helps, my dear?” Toadswallow interjected.  “I’ve been taking notes, as has Tatty.  Between us, I think we got most of it.”

Verona reached down and took the paper from a grinning Tatty, who was fastest to organize and offer the papers.  They were mixed and matched- some yellow paper with blue lines, some with grid, some blank without any lines at all.  The writing was a scrawl.

Verona turned a few pages.  “At least one of these pages is Tatty writing ‘boring’ over and over again.”

“It was!”

“Mr. Pizbelly Ache and Miss Dickosaur- dicka- you spell it four different ways in this one paragraph-”

“Sisters!”

“Four sisters?”

“Two!”

“With the same first name and different last names?”

“They’re humans!  Except the dinosaurs!  Humans are weirdos!  It’s fanfiction!” Tatty exclaimed.

Tatty fretted for a moment, unsure.

Verona had a sense it was some weird combination of Dino-sty Dash Through Time and The Hertfordshire Scruples, as if Tatty had been watching TV while another goblin channel surfed, and hadn’t realized the cartoon and the period romance were different shows, but she didn’t want to get distracted.

“I kind of want to enter this into the annals of the Seal’s law just for the hell of it,” Verona muttered.

Playing at being in good-humor, snarking a bit, it wasn’t helping lift her mood any.

Probably nothing would, until they talked to Avery again.

“Rest assured, between the two of us, we got most of it,” Toadswallow said, handing Verona his notes.  Which were much more organized.  Still messier than anything Verona would write, and Verona wasn’t tidy or especially legible.  Interpreting her own handwriting could be more art than science, sometimes.

Verona paged through it.

Lucy explained, “I think there’s probably no way we cover all the side stuff we need to cover, just about any point we raise is going to have five different people arguing, at least one person who’s built a fair share of their power base on exploiting that thing we want to fix, and doesn’t want the gravy train to run out.  It helps when there’s similar rules to what we want to enforce, in other territories, like for the sanctuary thing.  Especially neighboring territories.”

“If there’s no way to cover it today without people rioting, maybe we go out of our way, try to end this on a high note?” Verona suggested.  “Avoid burning that bridge?”

Lucy nodded.

The central argument was ongoing.  Mrs. Ferguson protested, “If you’re carrying your ‘house’ around with you so regularly that it’s part of your name, Killwagon, then affording protections to that house is affording you protection wildly against the spirit of the Law we’re trying to create and uphold.”

“I’m not saying I should have it like a shield behind me, all the time.  But if I stop, or if something like me stops, then that’s a good thing, it’s a period of time when a bogeyman isn’t on the prowl, I think I should be able to rest in peace.”

“You’re from the Abyss,” Ann told him.  “Peace?”

“I’ll make up for it in moments I’m not listening to an audiobook.”

Verona leaned into Lucy.  “Uh.”

“I’m supportive of Others having a voice,” Lucy replied.  “Even if that voice isn’t one I agree with.  I think this is some misplaced priorities that would’ve been shut down if the humans weren’t so worn out.”

“Yeah.”

Lucy gave Verona a pat on the shoulder, then crossed back toward the stage.  Guilherme extended a spear shaft in Lucy’s direction, point facing him, and she grabbed it, taking the help in getting up the side of the stage in a way that made both her and Guilherme look pretty good.

Lucy raised her hand as soon as she was at the stage’s edge.

“Ellingson,” Charles said.

“I’d like to pull back, try to steer this a bit,” Lucy said.

“Please,” Anthem said.

“If that’s okay, Killwagon?  I don’t think you’re gaining ground.  And unless you want to duel Ferguson…”

Killwagon sighed, and shook his head.

“…Let’s drop the personal protection for the mobile house.”

“I have a friend from the Abyss,” Killwagon said.  “Did the implement-demesne ritual with her motorcycle, regrets it every day.  Would be nice if she could come up this way and not regret it.”

“Sure, but that’s a whole debate.  Let’s drop that part of it, let’s focus on the council thing.  Extending it so it’s not just practitioners.  Kennet’s council becomes a protected space.  So does this moot.  So does any place agreed upon as a meeting place for discussing truces and resolutions to hostility”

“That’s dangerous,” Anthem said.  “This moot is situated in the Carmine’s territory.  If we make this space sacrosanct-”

“Requiring a declaration of war, at least,” Lucy said.

“We may want to rethink that.  It can be exploited, declarations made every day.  It costs nothing.”

“We can make it cost karma, can’t we?”

“Either way.  If we make the space sacrosanct, it’s another layer of defense for the Carmine.  I’ve come around some on what you’re trying to do with Kennet, fine, I respect you as a practitioner, I like you.  You were fair to me and my daughters.  But you were part of the layered defenses around the Carmine.”

“Unwillingly.  He propped us up as that.”

“Okay.  Agreed.  But let’s not add to that with something willing, that you’re arguing for.”

“Okay,” Lucy said.  She looked back across the water to the shore where part of the gathered crowd looked in on the stage.  At Verona.

Verona tapped her wrist.

“Make the spaces protected while the meetings are ongoing or scheduled.  And when traveling to and from the scheduled meeting.”

“Like old-school gangsters agreeing not to gun each other down on the way to and from Church,” Anthem said.  “What if a meeting is scheduled for every minute of every day?”

“What if we make it so that if you’re doing that, the space has to be exclusively for that?” Lucy asked.

“This starts to feel, again, like you’re angling for a way of attacking me,” Charles said.  “Encouraging me to set up this stage at the heart of Kennet, then seeking consensus from practitioners and others to make stages and meeting place such as this a place with a different set of rules?”

Grayson answered his phone, stepping away.

“I think we’re all in a better place if we’re not expending time, resources, and effort protecting ourselves just so we can meet and have a conversation,” Anthem said.

“Guilherme,” Lucy said.  “You once told me that there were places in the Faerie, that, if you wanted to fight, it had to be a declared duel.”

“There are.”

“And that’s a point of Law?”

“It is, in a fashion.  A popular thing in High Spring and High Summer.”

“Toadswallow?  In the Warrens?”

“Nothing so formal.”

“Bubbleyum told me about fight streets.”

“Fuck yeah!” America cheered.  “Fight street!”

“You’re on the money,” Toadswallow said.

Mr. Songetay was answering his phone now too.

“Something’s up,” Verona whispered.

Lucy’s head turned.  “Problem?”

Mr. Songetay covered one ear, turning his back to her.

Grayson, a bit further into the call, lowered the phone, which still apparently had the call going.  “Yes.  Doesn’t seem like anything that can’t be handled.”

“What’s going on?” Mrs. Ferguson asked.

“Cultists of Bloody Glory are attacking one of my properties.  Outside this region.”

Mr. Songetay nodded, and made a motion with a finger.  Same.

“Did you signal her?  Talk to her on one of your excursions?” Lucy asked Charles.

“No.  Believe it or not, that goddess has a mind of her own, and keen intuition.  She might have thought it would free me from this mundane horror if she targeted the attendees.”

“She’ll attack others,” Anthem said.

“Can you handle it?” Lucy asked Mr. Songetay.

“We’ll see, I suppose.  But now I feel compelled to say with a little more heat in my words, that this should end.  We can yammer on for eternity, it seems.”

“Let’s speed it up, then,” Lucy said.  “There are rituals and means of saying a space is protected from conflict, or changing the rules for conflict- fight streets and required duels.  This is soft, already existing set of sanctuary and rule-defining practices, would require rituals-”

“Then why bother?”

“-that I’d ask that we agree on as a committee to put extra weight on.  Think of it as a ‘when in Rome, do as Romans do’ thing, let’s say, you can get past all that by challenging the champion of the place- its Lord or its Lord’s chosen enforcer.  So there’s always that backup option.  But it means that we can have our damn market days without worrying so much about being raided, so long as we have someone on call, which we intend to-”

“The damn market again,” Ann said, shaking her head.

“-we can let Others define their own shelters and resting spots…”

“This threatens to drag on.”

“I support this,” Anthem said.  “I’m familiar with the rules and laws.  We’re giving weight to practices that need weight, that have their own mechanisms and ways around them, and there’s a built in escape clause.  A dojo throwdown, if you will.”

“And all the rules we’re making have a four year term, to be renewed,” Lucy said.

“If I agree, will you let me go?” Songetay asked.

“There’s one other point I’d want to raise,” Lucy said.

“Fuck off!  You’re making me want to show up at this market of yours and raze it to the ground, for this mess,” Mr. Neumann growled.

What was Lucy doing?  This was the opposite of ending it on a high note.

“Gainsaying and forswearing,” Lucy said.  “I don’t think it’ll take long.  I just figure with the recent abuse, which many of us have been subjected to…”

She looked at Charles, trailing off.

Ah.  I sorta figured you’d gotten to that already.  Saving it as a closer.

“In this, the Seal supercedes,” Charles told them.

“It does,” the Sable Prince affirmed.

“In this,” Lucy said.  “There can be drawbacks and clawbacks from abuse of the seal.  We make allowances to keep everything running, like the rule of discourse, and we make rules and punishments to avoid people abusing the system.”

“Technically,” Charles said, “By the terminology of the Seal, there are no direct clauses for rule of discourse.  If we cleave to the actual wording, it is right and just to call out every falsehood, and this justice is rewarded.”

“And injustice should be punished by that same measure.  I would ask those gathered here to agree that false claims of gainsaying be punished in this region, especially in situations where it impedes conflict or conflict resolution.”

“Sounds like that’d be the Carmine’s business to enforce,” Grandfather said.

“Proposal: if a gainsaying is refuted, the Carmine is to enforce a period of silence enforced on the gainsayer, for a duration matching however long the person they challenged would be gainsaid.  Effective immediately,” Lucy said.

“You’d want me to muzzle myself?” Charles asked.

“If you’re fucking around, you’re barely even trying, taking lies off the top of the pile, however vague?  Yeah.  If you want to enforce that, you’ll have to dig for it, you’ll basically have to double check the facts,” Lucy told him.  “Put in the time and focus.”

No more gainsaying spam?

“Seconded,” Musser said.

“Thirded,” Anthem said.

“Sable?” Verona called out, accidentally interrupting Ann.

“This is not my jurisdiction.”

“But it’s your thing enough that you’re here watching.”

“To help adjudicate in matters of Law, and because nothing else demands my attention.  I may go at any moment.”

It’s weird you’re here to begin with.

“Then help us out?  Is there anything wrong in terms of Law, with what we’re proposing?”

“There isn’t.”

It felt a bit like tattling to teacher, but really, if all the kids on the playground were disagreeing with the teacher who was saying recess was over, and then they went to another teacher who confirmed the time was right…”

Charles glowered.  “Finish your business here.  I have a suspicion more than the two families are under some form of attack.”

“All in favor?” Ann asked.

Hands went up.  Including those on the shore.  A few goblins jostled near Verona and Toadswallow, trying to put up two hands and make it look like they were two different goblins so they could be counted double.

“Unanimous consensus.”

“Let’s dip back into expansion of shelter and protection, recognizing ritualized sanctuary and terms of war for areas, demesnes, and pocket worlds, allowing for challenge, guardians, and so on,” Lucy said.

“Seconded,” Anthem said.

“Thirded,” Grandfather said.

“You’re an Other,” Ann said, “and to motion for something, there should be no affiliation.”

“I’m not his, he’s not mine,” Lucy said.

“It doesn’t matter.  Thirded,” Grayson said.

“All in favor, then?” Ann asked.

Hands went up.

“Consensus.  Nobody I’m missing in the crowd who dissents, who’d be willing to duel?”

“Against this consensus?” Anthem asked, laughing.

Verona saw Cherrypop inch forward.  Clearly thinking about it.  She put her foot out, toe of her boot in Cherrypop’s way, and Cherrypop bit into the material, clawing ineffectually at the toe.

“I think that wraps things up,” Ann said.  “If those present don’t mind my quickly wrapping up proceedings, I’d move that this be put to Law and to word, and that the word be disseminated to the crowd.”

Charles didn’t budge, glowering, studying those present.

“Need I ask three times?” Ann asked.

“Let it be done, then,” Charles said.  That said, he withdrew a sheaf of papers from his coat.  He threw them into the air.  Verona halfway expected them to float down into everyone’s hands, but no.  Charles was being a petty little baby man.

Lucy picked out one set, then straightened.  America ordered some goblins to work, and they collected more before returning to her and Liberty like little puppies.  She passed a few out, sparing others in attendance from having to get down on hands and knees.

Liberty looked Verona’s way, eyes moving to the spaces near and behind Verona, and Verona could almost read her mind.

“I don’t think I’ve seen Chuck this miserable before,” Verona told Toadswallow.  “And I’ve seen him Forsworn, in a chair embedded in broken glass, with a table and floor crusted in the same, unable to move.”

“Did you now?”

“In a nightmare.”

“Hmm.”

“He was grouchy before, but then the Sable showed, and his tone changed,” Lucy said.

“What’d the Sable say?”

“Blocked.  I couldn’t hear.”

“Damn,” Verona muttered.

“I dare say we’ve done some good work at neutering this judge,” Ann announced, as they finished counting.  “Thank you everyone for your patience and hard work.  I hope you all return home to find a manageable situation, whether you’ve been attacked or not.”

“Same to you,” Lucy said.  “Don’t think I didn’t notice you talking like you came up with this thing.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to take credit.  This was more grueling than some fights I’ve lost,” Mr. Mele said.

“Should I put people on high alert?” Grandfather asked, coming to the edge of the stage with Lucy, backed by the Dogs of War.

“The way I understand it,” Lucy said, hopping down to the rocks below the stage, “we were already attacked, weren’t we?”

“We were.”

“So we’re at the endstate, while everyone else is worrying about what Maricica’s people are doing to their homes or families, I guess.”

Liberty was coming closer.

Verona didn’t want to have this conversation.  Because she knew how it would go.  Because Liberty could be sweet, according to Avery, she could be goofy, but she didn’t really let things go.

Hey, where’s Avery.

I don’t know.

Why don’t you know?  Let’s go figure it out.

“Ann’s not quite right,” Lucy said.

“Hm?” Verona grunted, still wishing they could ‘accidentally’ hurry off without talking to Liberty.

“Charles,” Lucy said, indicating the spot where Charles and the throne weren’t, anymore.  He was gone.  “He’s not neutered.  Metaphorically or otherwise, as far as I know.”

“Can take his balls, he’s still got teeth.”

“Yeah,” Lucy agreed.  “He can still gainsay and forswear, he’s still got the ability to dig through histories, feel out the falsehoods, he can still create Others, he’s still the last word, any time we can’t get our shit together and get people agreeing that there’s a consensus.”

“Getting out ahead of him.”

“Hey,” Liberty said, as she reached them.  She plunked herself down at the edge of the stage, sitting with her legs dangling.  Her breath fogged in the cold air.  “Where’s Ave?”

Verona put a finger to her lips, and winked.

“Ah.  Carmine’s listening, huh?”

“Thanks for the backup,” Verona said.  “We’ve been gone for a while.  I think we’re going to regroup.  Lots to cover, catch up on.  We’re out of the loop on Kennet.”

“I heard stuff from goblins.”

“Maybe we call after, compare notes, get as full a picture as possible?” Lucy suggested.

“Okay.  I gotcha,” Liberty replied.

“Mostly right now I really want to see my mom,” Lucy admitted, quiet.

“My Demesne,” Verona added.

“Tell Ave to get in touch?” Liberty asked.

Verona nodded.

“Uncle Toadie, since I’m in town, do you want to hang out?”

“Our usual establishment is occupied, so perhaps we meet closer to your daddy’s?” Toadswallow suggested.  “Kennet found?”

“You know this place better than I do.  Lead the way,” Liberty said.  “America!  Want to hang out with Uncle Toadie?”

“Heck yeah!”

Verona saw Anthem looking a tiny bit put out that they weren’t coming to spend time with him.  But then America pulled on his arm, bringing him with.

“My mom’s at work, right?” Lucy asked.  “You know her schedule?  She was at work when you came here, and she’s still at work now?”

“Yes,” Grandfather replied.  “And I do.  Yes.  Do you want an escort?”

Lucy nodded.  “Just… company.”

“Grandfather,” Midas said, nudging Grandfather.

Grandfather stepped away, trailing behind.

Verona looked back as the practitioners all filtered back in the direction of the south end of Kennet found, where they could leave and get to the boats and the water.  Right.

“Guilherme?” Lucy called out.

“You are in good hands, and you know where to find me.  I will talk to some of the others, then retire.”

It was tricky, because a big part of how they’d dealt with the Wild Hunt was by recognizing that they were worried about a new Winter fae embarrassing them, and taking on the responsibility of keeping an eye out.  They’d said they’d do something about Maricica, but Verona didn’t get the impression it would be as simple or easy as them swooping in to wipe Maricica from existence.

Something to ask Guilherme about later.

They made sure everyone was leaving, then walked away from the stage.  Grandfather and Midas followed at a distance, still talking in low voices.

“Midas doesn’t like that Grandfather’s working with practitioners,” Lucy murmured.

Verona nodded.

“Did you try calling Avery?”

“On the phone and by saying her name, three times three times.”

“Called Snowdrop?”

“No response.  I’m kind of thinking like, we go to my Demesne, call Belangers, ask if Chase is up to looking.”

“You’re worried.”

Verona nodded.  “Normally my memory is pretty good, I’m terrible at getting boring information into my brain, but I’m pretty good once it’s in there.  But I’m having trouble thinking of the order of events.”

“Order?”

“When I last heard gunshots.”

Lucy’s eyes widened slightly.

“Sorry.  I’m being overly imaginative, I’m being negative, I’m wiped- I know you’re wiped too, I’m dumping on you.”

“No,” Lucy said, voice soft.

“Hold up,” Grandfather said, raising his voice.  He’d fallen behind the group as he talked to the new Dogs of War, and now he caught up.  “Situation’s not what it was.”

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked.

“You’re heading to one of the doorways, Kennet found to Kennet above?”

“Yeah,” Verona replied.  “Is it gone?”

“It’s there.  But it’s guarded.  Every day they find more.”

“What’s going on?” Lucy asked.

“They moved in, in force.  Disguise themselves in the groups of tourists.  There’s issues every night.  These people, rough undercity sorts, they’re taking over.  It’s hard to put ’em down for good, in a different way than it’s hard to put us down.”

“We ran into them.”

“Right.  Yeah.  Works different if there’s Innocents around.  It’ll take time, wait until nobody’s around.  Morgue’s had a lot of broken tables and bodies disappearing.  Hospital’s had a lot of patients.”

“So we disguise ourselves?” Lucy asked.

“It’d be a good call.  Come on.  I’ll show you the doors I know work.  Or it did, when I came to you this morning.  It’s been a day, and the rate this is going…”

“My Demesne works, right?” Verona asked.

“Yeah.  Let’s hold onto that, though.  We don’t want to give them a reason to camp out outside your place.”

“I’m still not okay with this,” Midas said.

“She got you out, Midas.  As a Christmas present, to all of us.”

“They put me in, in the first place.”

“Not those two.”

“Their sort.”

“Yeah,” Grandfather said.  “Suck it up?  She’s done right by us.  Come on.  This way.  It’s not far from the hospital, either.”

“She said you’re not hers, but you’re acting like her bitc-”

Grandfather grabbed Midas by the collar and heaved him sideways, throwing him into a railing.  Grandfather pinned him there.

“Midas,” Doe said, from the back of the group.

“What?”

“She’s wearing a coat we gave her.  She’s wearing tags, she’s got Yalda’s ring.”

“All the people who captured me wore the tags.  Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Does here.”

“And who’s Yalda?”

“Songbird,” Grandfather said.

“Horseman mentioned her.  We didn’t make it back to the main group.  Or I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Grandfather said.  “The one in red back there?  Red beard, red hair, red fur-”

“I’m not a moron.  He was red.  I know who you’re talking about.”

“Did Yalda dirty.  She got too strong, had to be put down.  He dredged her back up and turned her into a killing magic.  One part of his big plan to get powerful.  John Stiles got us back, man in red trampled over Stiles.  Girl in the red jacket there?  Lucy?  She was John’s friend.”

“And the other one?”

“They’re a squad, Midas.  Lucy, Verona, and one more.  Avery.”

“And this fairy tale amusement park bullshit?”

“If you want it, it’s home.  Right now?  Stick with us.  We’re running an errand here, getting her to a hospital, making sure she and her mom are safe.  Get Verona to her house, whichever one she wants to go back to.  Then you, Foggy, Whistle, and Trick come with us, we’ll have some drinks, we’ll fill you in, you can decide if you come or stay.”

“No strings attached?”

“Not so much.  Maybe if you end up hurting people, we end up on opposite sides.”

Midas nodded.  “I’m not about that.  Not unless they’re on the other end of my rifle.”

“Come on.”

Verona did not have much glamour left.  She’d salvaged some from the big illusion when the Turtle Queen had shattered it, and she had Winter glamour, but that was about it.

She gave Lucy some, and then made some modifications to herself, extending her hair and altering her features.  She turned her coat a garish neon green with a slash of blue on it, and gave herself a longer face.  Kind of reminiscent of Jeremy, just, like, Jeremy’s fashion insensate female cousin or something.

Lucy seemed to be thinking more of Mia and Hailey.  Tall and artificially blonde and fashionable and smiley.

“Want me to do you?” Lucy asked Grandfather.

“Guess you have to, huh?  I’d be recognized.”

“Any preference?”

“Nah.  But keep the age the same, I guess.  Don’t make me old.  Don’t make me young.”

“Got it.”

He dropped down to a squat, letting Lucy work on his features.

“Who am I doing up?” Verona asked.

“Ribs?” Grandfather asked.  “Head back to the others?  Get filled in?  Meet us at Lucy’s.  Doe, you’re driving, you know where the car is.  I trust you to stay out of trouble.”

Doe nodded.

Verona pulled the tags off from around her neck.  Grandfather stopped her.  “Keep them, don’t use ’em just for the sake of reuniting us.  They’ll be on standby, that’s the best place to have ’em.”

“Okay.”

“Rest of you are with me, but try not to look so much like military.”

They navigated through and emerged from a copse of trees that were probably planted to help keep the noise of the road from reaching the hospital.  Probably just a two or three percent difference, Verona figured.  Doe went a separate direction, while Grandfather, now blond and faintly overweight, walked beside Lucy.  Whistle’s dog was on leash, keeping pace to one side of them.

The hospital was busy, Verona saw.  And that said a lot, because it wasn’t a huge hospital.  She’d seen it bad when the Carmine influence was taking hold, but this felt like…

…Like it was a warzone.

She Saw some of Maricica’s people.  Some were stained, slightly.  Others, if she viewed them as gauzy figures with meaty things within, the gauze was bloodstained.  But even without that, she’d spent enough time working on getting Kennet below working out, she could sort of tell a person from the undercity apart from a regular person.  Nine out of ten times, anyway.  Some were softer or firmly in the gray zone, like Bag, the kid brother of Bracken, and sometimes real people from Kennet above had a mean streak.

“They’re pushing things,” Grandfather explained.  “They pick fights, they push people around, they play dominance games.  The cops think it’s a gang that’s trying to move in, but they’re at a loss for how to handle it.  They brought five people in for New Years, because they expected trouble.  There was trouble.  Punches were thrown, it became a brawl.  Someone got knocked out, there was a big black explosion.”

“Abyssal,” Lucy said.

“Don’t know the terms that well.  I think Toadswallow said something about that.  It’s easy to confuse when a lot of the time, shit gets paired together.  So you talk about Abyss and Ruin in the same breath, and both are dark and messy and Toadswallow says they’re there for a purpose.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said.

“And then you’ve got fairies and- our funny little friends,” Grandfather switched tone and skipped over mention of ‘goblin’ as a family walked the opposite direction, getting close enough to be in earshot.  “Sometimes I’m not sure what’s what.”

“That’s, uh, something that could get you into trouble, if you talked about it too much.  Neither the goblins or the fairies would like it,” Lucy said.  “but I know what you mean.  The brownies at the school had a lot of goblin vibes.  Short, gnarled, rough to Snowdrop.”

“Hm.  Got it.”

“Big black explosion?” Verona asked.

“Nobody could really explain it or pin it down, but the brawl went from the sort of fight with a hundred bystanders for every person getting seriously hurt to a real mess.  Good thirty, forty people going to the emergency room.  Including cops who came in to try to restore order.”

“They couldn’t pin it down, what do you mean?” Lucy asked.

“Amnesia, I guess.  Innocence bullshit.”

Verona nodded.

“That’s happened a few times.  Events going to hell.  There was a fight at the cabin, there were police cars out there for hours.  They closed the rest place for the ski hill and the fried dough place right next to it.  That close to a time a lot of people were already thinking of going home, they decided to leave early.”

“Takes the fun out of skiing and snowboarding if there’s no hot chocolate and unhealthy food to make up for all that exercise, I guess,” Verona said.

“I guess so,” Grandfather replied.

“So, if Avery was right, and Maricica was surrounding town to try to drop it into the Abyss,” Verona shared her thoughts out loud.  “This could be something similar?  Fuck, we should’ve asked Ann Wint about that.”

“I think it’s better we didn’t,” Lucy said.  Her eyes were scanning the interior of the hospital.  Taking notice of every nurse.  “Let’s try to ride out tonight, we call her tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Verona suspected that Lucy wanted something very similar to what she wanted.  They’d been away from home, everything was fucked, everything was off-kilter, and every piece of news they got just made it seem worse.

Her bracelet clicked.  There were some people from Maricica’s group here, glancing at them.  Maybe hadn’t connected the dots.  Verona nudged Grandfather, head turning.

He grunted, “I know.  I’m not so good with the fancy shit, like John was.  But I know when we’re in hostile territory.”

They walked down the hall.

“I’m saying this knowing Charles might be listening in,” Verona said.

“Probably,” Lucy replied.

“I think we’re pretty quickly moving to a position where Charles goes down one of three routes.”

“I think I have an idea of what those routes might look like,” Grandfather said.

“Yeah?” Verona asked.  “The first is that he gets a clue, and I dunno, fucks off, tells Maricica to fuck off.  We’ve apparently thrown a few wrenches at him, that limits what he can do and how he operates.”

“Agreed,” Lucy said.  “A few wrenches.”

“Too many people need a clue and not enough take the chance to get one,” Grandfather said.  “Probably includes me too.”

“It’s not likely, but… optimism, right?  Second possibility is he keeps doing what he’s doing.  I think there’s more pushback, more organization, in a way there wasn’t with Musser.  I think the tide’s turning against him, even if he’s got all this going on.  Maybe he wins, gets the right ally on his side, maybe he loses.  It’s an ugly fight.  And like…”

“Opposite of a compromise,” Lucy said.  “In a compromise you both walk away unhappy and you hope you walk away happiest.  In war, you both walk away unhappy and you hope the other guy walks away miserable.  It’s cutting both ways.”

“I like that.”

“Grandfather’s quote.”

“He didn’t seem happy,” Verona said.  “Charles, I mean.  And the way this goes, if it really is going to be a grind before he defeats us or we defeat him, I think the victor just ends up really pissed and disappointed at how it all went down.”

“Yeah.”

“And the third way-”

Jasmine, wearing light blue scrubs, crossed the hall, leaving one room to go into another.  Lucy stopped in her tracks.

Verona didn’t finish her sentence.

Lucy ventured forward, and Jasmine stepped out of the room, talking to someone at the nurse’s station just down the hallway.  “Whoever it is that’s breaking down the pill sheets from sixes to individual ones needs to be locked in the cupboard with the linens.”

There was a laugh.  “It’s Tracy.”

Jasmine turned, and paused, looking at them.  At Lucy, who was walking closer.  Her eyes flooded with emotion.

“Hey,” Lucy said.  Her voice had been altered with the glamour.  “You know who I am?”

“Of course.”

“Ten demerits from Guilherme, gotta work on that glamour,” Verona murmured.  Lucy didn’t seem to hear her.

“Can we…?” Lucy asked.

“I’ll take a quick break,” Jasmine said, to the nurse she’d been talking to.  “Come.”

She briskly walked down the hall, to what looked like a grouping of doctors offices- not the same ones they’d gone to just before the parents had been made Aware.

There were others nearby.

Lurking.  Watching Jasmine.

And Pipes was there, too.

Like a perpetual standoff.  A fight just ready to happen.  Jasmine had to know.

Jasmine stopped by a doctor.

“Neil, hey, um, I’m taking my break-”

“I’m in the middle of- of everything.”

“No, no, um, just- these are friends of my daughters, they need to talk about something serious.  We need a bit of privacy.”

“Take my office.”

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.  Go.  Crazy day, isn’t it?”

Grandfather seemed especially alert, looking around.

“What did the doc think you were asking for, when you said you were on break?” Verona asked, as they walked down the hall toward one office.

“We’re friends, we eat together sometimes.”

“OooOh,” Verona cooed.

“Really truly just friends.  He’s married.”

“Depending on the arrangement, I wouldn’t say that’s a total deal breaker.  Open relationships or-”

“Ron- bestie,” Lucy said, testily.  “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Shut up.  This is a moment.”

Lucy barely had privacy, stepping into the office, door open behind her, when she hugged her mom.

They shared murmured words and Verona didn’t have the benefit of Lucy’s earring so she didn’t know what was said.

After a bit of that, Jasmine motioned, inviting Verona in for a hug, one arm free and extended.

Verona shook her head.

“I’ll smudge my face,” Verona said.

“Okay.  Fill me in?”

Lucy started to.

Verona, hanging back, leaned against a corner, and looked over at Grandfather.

“I didn’t tell her,” Grandfather said, quiet.  Meaning Lucy.

“You’re telling her now.  Earring.  Whatever it is.”

“Right now her mom’s holding her, so… least bad a time as any, huh?”

“What happened?” Verona asked.

“We moved Lucy’s mom to an apartment.  The house isn’t safe.”

“Even with the deal struck?  The provisions from the big meeting?”

“I don’t know.  We couldn’t scrape a lot of money together, we didn’t want her spending her own, but things got bad, there were people prowling the neighborhood, she almost couldn’t get to work.  Right now Doe’s got the car.  Last couple times she finished a shift, we pulled a little maneuver to get her to the car, get her clear, shake off any tails, and get her to the place.”

“Doesn’t sound sustainable,” Verona said.

“It’s not.  One of the dust-ups, black smoke explosion shit, it was at the side of the hospital.  And if they keep doing that…”

Verona avoided looking back at the people she’d seen down the hall.  At Pipes.

As long as there was enough shadow of a doubt, they wouldn’t attack, hopefully.  But they might attack if there was an excuse.

“She shouldn’t be working, if it’s like this.”

“She had a daughter that was away, in danger, what else is there to do?” Grandfather asked.  “She’d lose her mind, sitting on her hands.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“It is.  It’s also about control.  And if she’s a known element, she’s not making any radical moves, her head’s down, she’s not doing anything fancy?”

“They still attack her at home?”

“Our focus was elsewhere.  Merchants were raided.  Goblins and others stolen from.  We thought the house was safe with one guard.  It was, physically, but they made enough noise to spook the neighbors and spook her too.  So we got her clear.”

“Thank you for guarding her.  What’s my house situation?”

“Your dad?  Not involved, not aware.  They have people that watch him.”

“And Avery’s family?”

“Staying boring.  The dad’s side, at least.  Staying quiet.  Guarded.  If they push then we push back, they don’t get anything either way.”

“Just one huge stalemate?”

“Wouldn’t call it that.  Because they keep growing in number.”

“That thing I was going to say before Jasmine showed up?”

“The man breaks or goes down.”

“Charles breaks or goes down,” Verona agreed.  “Not the way he seemed to want, either.”

“The way these things go?  Memories in my head that aren’t mine say it doesn’t get better when the tyrant is toppled.  You’re going to get Maricica.  And if you don’t get Maricica, you’ll get something else.  The replacement’s rarely any better than what you had.”

“Yeah.”

“The man’s not going to recant.  That’s not how people work.”

“Kinda sorta hoping, you know, point five percent chance, Charles is listening to us, he’s tired and annoyed, and in the middle of a personal reckoning, maybe he changes his mind about what he’s doing, tries for the good ending.”

“It’s not how people work,” Grandfather repeated himself.  “Him pushing forward, this becoming some gritty, shitty fight that leaves everyone unhappy and the world worse in general?  Maybe he wins, maybe you do?  Sounds more like how things work.”

Verona’s stomach was in knots.  “So he either finds it in himself to manage that, or he doesn’t, something breaks, or someone catches him in a weak moment, and he gets replaced.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And what?  We lose people, we lose things?  We have this fix, kind of?  A market, getting people organized, changing Law so kids like McCauleigh are protected, we have things we want to build and visions for the future and they’re just going to mob us, tear it down?”

“For what it’s worth,” Grandfather said.  He paused, almost like that was the only sentence he was going to say.  “We’ve got our people we lost back.”

Verona could have cried, at those words, and it surprised her that she could have.  She avoided blinking and let the moisture sit in her eyes, head slightly tilted, eyes looking down at the floor.

Where the fuck was Avery?

“John got us that.  Lucy’s helping carry on the spirit of doing that.  And we’ll do our fucking best to help all of you hold onto things and get what you lose back.  And you, you fight for the best outcome, and while you’re at it, if you see someone who needs help holding onto what they want to hold onto, and you’re able?  You do that.”

“And that’s the way it goes?”

“That’s the way it goes.”

Lucy was still hugging her mom.  The glamour was in shambles.

The people she wanted to hold onto.

Verona walked through the woods because it would’ve been too obvious to come straight down the road.  To the House on Half Street.

A part of her worried, much like she’d worried about losing her stride with school, that the Demesne just wouldn’t work when she tried for it.  But the door opened and she was able to keep cold air from flowing in.

“Who’s-?”

Mal was there, stepping into the hallway after hearing the door.

Mal looked back over her very tattooed shoulder, with many tattoos overlapping one another, many of them looking like she’d tried to draw them blindfolded.  Then she looked back at Verona.

Verona had ditched the glamour as she walked through the woods.

“Welcome back.”

“Thanks.”

“I don’t know how we do this.  Do we hug, or…?”

Verona shrugged.  “I dunno, Mal.  Good to see you.”

“Same.  I watered your goblin, gave snacks to your bird and squirrel, let Luna sort out the crap downstairs, I kept the partying pretty mild.  Mostly this has been base camp, for those who need a base camp.”

“That’s okay.  Thank you.  I owe you.”

“Probably did a six out of ten job, I figure.”

“Good enough.  Thanks.”

“I’ll, uh, go upstairs, clean up your room.  Don’t come up for like… twenty minutes.”

“Alright.”

Verona shrugged out of her coat, and pulled off her boots.

The living room had the two armchairs and the couch.  Skinny, long-haired Anselm was there, with McCauleigh sitting on the couch with Anselm’s feet on her lap.  Oakham sat on an armchair.  Julette sat on the ledge in front of the fire, in human form, wearing no sweater- just a black tank.

Verona nodded.  “Didn’t think you’d be here, McCauleigh.”

“You want me gone?  Say the word.”

“Nah.”

“I wouldn’t listen unless you were really serious.”

“You could’ve hung back, eaten Garrick food, been a distraction for Avery’s mom,” Verona said.

The stray thought of Avery never failed to remind her that her gut had sunk and it wasn’t raising up.

“Not my style.”

Verona nodded.

She felt very tired.  Sleeping in the R.V., starting in the morning and the looming issues…

“Avery’s mom said she wanted an update ASAP,” McCauleigh said.

“Right.”

What was she even going to say?  What the fuck?

She didn’t know.

Fuck.  She had to call Chase.

“Raquel went back to the Belangers earlier.  You missed her by like, thirty minutes,” McCauleigh said.

Because we went to the hospital instead of straight here.

“Pecker’s out with the goblins, I think.”

Her phone was dead.  Couldn’t call Avery’s mom.

Verona crossed the living room to go to the dining room, which was really more of a war room.

What even was the fucking point?  What was she going to say?  They didn’t have information.

Better to call Chase, but her phone was dead.

“What do you need?” Julette asked, springing to her feet.

“I need a phone charger, gonna have to empty my damn bag, don’t want to do that, I…”

Verona opened drawers, then slammed them, then stopped herself.

Concentrating, she felt her way through the Demesne, found the phone charger upstairs, and pulled it through the outlet, wires, and spat it back out, into the back of the drawer.  It rattled.

She opened the drawer again, got it, and closed the drawer, plugging in her phone.

“Food,” Verona said.  “I’ve only really snacked today.  I’m at, like, a one, in that bullshit pyramid of needs.  Haven’t slept much, haven’t eaten much, haven’t hydrated.”

Socialization is on the pyramid.

She clicked her phone to turn it on and it showed the charge was too low.  She threw it down onto the worktable, war-room table thing she had in place of a dining room table.  A motion of her hand stopped it from sliding off the edge, adding more traction.

“Homemade or takeout?” Julette asked.

“Takeout.”

“I’ll handle that, then,” Julette said.  “Oakham, mooch, order takeout.”

Oakham leaned forward, trying to get a good angle to see Verona.  “The family man is back.  Blindfolded, fucked up motherfucker made a point of hunting down some of the people he’d had before.  Refugees and stuff.  Miss is pushing him out, but…”

“Not right now?  Just… give me a few?” Verona asked.

“It’s serious.”

“I know.  But give me a few.”

There wasn’t any real conversation, except Julette going over to Oakham and giving some suggestions on the takeout thing, in a quiet voice.

The squirrel was in her alchemy lab slash kitchen, and waved.  She could hear the kettle, which the pigeon liked to do.  She waved back at the squirrel.

How lame would it be to get back, see some of her A-tier people, and then just crumple?

She didn’t know how to ask for… whatever it was, that people asked for, that let them not crumple.

She busied herself, sorting things out on the war room table.  Running a hand along it, she brought up a map of Kennet, turned it ninety degrees, and then spread it out.  Three maps, for three layers, in green and white gold, in red and dark gray, and in blue and light gray.

Flicking a finger, Sight on, she brought up a pulsing little light, gold, south of Kennet, in one of the warehouses.

Contest ongoing.

The phone did its little tralala notification it was powering on.

She waited, then checked.  In the other room, people were having murmured conversations.  In this room, Julette stood opposite Verona, thumbs hooked in pockets, looking down at the map, silent and contemplative.

“You got a human body back.”

“Guilherme set me up before he left.”

“Good.”

“I’ll take Dad duty tonight.”

“Thanks.”

She still felt like crumpling.  Needed to shore up basic needs, needed-

“The food’s about ninety minutes out,” Melissa said.

“There’s no place that’s faster?” Verona asked.

“It’s all kinda screwed up right now.”

It felt like the air was laced with expectations.  With people wanting to ask questions, but not wanting to push her.

She wanted to go to bed and curl up, maybe with Julette in cat form, maybe with Anselm, maybe with McCauleigh in the room, to talk to about dumb stuff.  But a lot of people had crashed here, and her mattress was as good as any other, and now Mal was stripping off the sheets and cleaning up the random trash.

Verona was glad the space had been useful.  She couldn’t exactly bring her Demesne with, which meant she didn’t have it contributing in a direct way, while Lucy had her earring helping out in little ways, and Avery-

Verona shut her eyes.

The phone finished booting up.

She dialed Chase.

Busy signal.

She dialed Nicolette.

“Nicolette Belanger.  Operating independently from the Blue Heron.  Hi Verona.”

“Heya.  Is Chase with you?”

“Chase is with us.  We’re swamped right now.  You guys had your meeting thing?”

“We did.”

“Yeah, and it ended, and just about everyone seems to have questions or things they want to check on, consequences, they want to- there’s a lot.  What do you need?”

“Avery-” Verona started.

That feeling of expectation and all the eyes in the other room on her, even if they weren’t directly looking at her- all seemed to get a hundred times more intense at that one word.

Because if things were cool and she knew her friends were safe, then being tired and coming back to this would be a celebration.

“-I don’t know where she is.  Chase is good at finding people, right?”

“Yeah.”

Verona didn’t know how to fill the silence after that word.  How to ask.

“We’ve got a queue.  Let me put you on it,” Nicolette said.  “This works faster if we just go ahead, do our best, then contact you with results, without us calling you for more details later.”

“I don’t need fancy details.  Give me a location,” Verona said.  “There was Abyssal stuff going on, but the Turtle Queen seemed to counter that.  Um.  Just need to know where to go to get her.”

“I’ll call when we know.”

“Thanks.  Standard rates?”

“I’d say you’re a friend and no need, but… I’m trying to do something here.”

“Okay.  Standard rates?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Verona hung up.

The kettle audibly bubbled in the other room.  Conversation had stopped.  The one thing about collecting people on her own wavelength was that they were all kind of ass when it came to emotional intelligence, knowing how to handle this shit.

“Let me get out of your hair,” Oakham said.  Her cane tapped on the ground as she got to her feet.  She was walking pretty well, even without leaning hard on the cane.  Natural gait.

“I’ll look into Bracken and Bag tomorrow, I think.  That okay?”

“Yeah,” Oakham said.  “Good luck.”

Verona nodded.

“Hey,” McCauleigh said.  McCauleigh still looked really worn out from whatever she’d been through.  She motioned for Verona to approach, so Verona approached.  Scooting over, she made space in the middle of the couch, and Verona plunked herself down, between McCauleigh and Anselm.

“This okay?” Verona asked Anselm.  “It’s not weird?  Just need to lean on someone a bit, I think.”

“It’s okay.”

So she leaned on him, head against his shoulder.  McCauleigh took Verona’s left hand, the one that cramped, and rolled her thumb around it, so Verona didn’t have to, massaging it.

Julette, taking cat form, curled up in Verona’s lap.

And Verona was a bit like a rag doll, limp, not able to sleep, not able to do much.

Waiting for Chase to call.

“I hate not knowing things,” Lucy said.  “It gets to me so easily.”

“It’s why you’re an eavesdropper,” Verona told her.  “With an eavesdropper’s earring.”

Lucy had come in late.  Verona had woken, feeling Lucy at the doorstep, had crept down from her room, leaving Anselm and McCauleigh behind in her room, and let Lucy in.  Now they were at the table.  At the war room.

It was dark.  No lights were on, but the interior had a faint glow as if moonlight streamed in through the window and back door.

Which it didn’t, with the tree cover, but still.  Demesnes.

Lucy put her hands on the table.  Four figurines stood on it.  Carmine Exile, Alabaster Assembly, Sable Prince, and Aurum Coil.

Freeman had lost.  Erased from existence.

Ploy failed.

Something had gone wrong.

“Did you know?” Verona asked, looking at the Aurum Coil figurine.

“Got word.”

Verona nodded.

“Chase?” Lucy asked.

“I texted you.”

“I know, just…”

“He can’t find her.  The guy who’s really good at finding people can’t find her.  Not on Earth, in a hospital, or hiding, or captured.  Not in the Abyss, not in the Ruins, not in Warrens, not in the Faewilds or courts.  Avery Kelly is gone.  Snowdrop’s gone.”

“Paths?”

“Not really his area of expertise.  But when Avery was on the Forest Ribbon Trail and we called out to her, it was faint.  She called out to me, I remember hearing.”

“Yeah.”

“She didn’t hear me this time.”

“I know.  Yeah.”

Verona started to speak, stopped.

Started- hesitated.

“Lucy.”

Lucy shook her head.

“Just saying, accounting for possibilities…”

Verona trailed off.  She really didn’t want to say it.  To give voice to the thought.

Lucy shook her head again.

Verona turned around, lower back against the table edge, looking at the shelf on the wall with the little glamour plants on it.

“You said, if one of us died, you’d lose all reason to fight,” Lucy said.

“Kinda felt that earlier.  That hit to- to everything.  Feeling it a bit now.”

“Before- when we were making all these plans.  Remember what she was talking about.  What we did today, it was- it was amazing.  You’ve put a serious dent in the Aurum’s territory.”

“They might retake those territories.  Crush the Judges or whatever forces they are, that he traded his territory to, to stay out of our reach.”

“But you put a dent in that.  And you conceptualized this distraction for Charles that was huge.  It was- how many people, Ronnie, have distractions that are more devastating than some war campaigns?”

“You did pretty good yourself.”

“And Avery- What she was talking about was trust.  Recognizing each other’s amazingness.  Letting that elevate us to be more than we could ever be alone.”

Verona smacked the Carmine figurine.  It reached the end of the table and exploded to red dust.  Her hand felt like it’d cramp.  She rubbed at it.  It didn’t really help.

“Verona,” Lucy said, voice quiet and insistent.  “Trust.”

“Is that the game plan?” Verona asked.  “I’d bail if something’s happened to her, so I quote-unquote ‘trust’ and make myself stay in the fight?”

“No,” Lucy said.  “The game plan is you do what I’m doing.  Trust.  Believe in her and Snowdrop.  And while we’re doing that we carry on and earn her trust, deserve her believing in us.”

“Can’t help but notice how you’re saying the exact same words you’d say if-”

“Ronnie.”

Verona’s hand shook, other hand pressing thumb in hard.  Stabbing thumb in hard.  As if she could somehow push her thumb through and stop the pain for good.

“Hey,” Lucy murmured.

Verona looked out the window, looking past a forest of dark trees to the night sky.

“It’s like before the Awakening ritual, right?” Lucy asked.  “Avery and I cottoned on faster.  And Miss said it was a good thing it took you longer, because that brain of yours, sure is good at imagining the worst scenarios.  That magic wasn’t real, it’s all a scam.  But you gotta turn it around.  We need to salvage this fucking situation.  The ugliness we’re fighting right now doesn’t feel like the kind of ugliness we can kill in an arena or with a big practice.  It’s not an attack we can stop.  It’s like a bloody cancer.”

Verona nodded, eyes still on the trees.

“So turn that brain of yours toward believing in Avery.”

Verona closed her eyes, thinking about her friend and Snowdrop.  Her strengths, the possibilities, every bit of groundwork she’d laid.

“There we go,” Lucy said, eyes red in the gloom.

Next Chapter