I held the Questor as proof positive that not all practitioners are creepy old men or women whose “witch” title seems just a typo away from the truth.  Um, not that I’m a creepy old guy, although someday I’m sure I will merit the title.  If I live that long.

“A darkened realm.  I memorized that part,” I said to Doloise as she led me out of the shop.  “Which one would that be?”

“There are many realms which lie within the darkness,” she said.

“Yeah, I read A Wrinkle In Time, too.  Unless you were thinking something more of a cross between Nietzsche and Jung in the darkness every man brings with him in his soul.  At which point, wow, that wasn’t far.”  Oh, yeah, my snark had rejuvenated some.  Mankind versus his environment was apparently a fertile field of potential or somesuch.

“There are many darknesses,” Doloise offered.  It was a hint of humour, so I viewed it with suspicion.

“Is this like a card trick?  Choose a darkness, any darkness.  Can I have mine extra dark with bits of terrible black, and maybe marshmallows?”

“If that is the path you have chosen,” she seemed to be agreeable to it.  I liked my dark realm like I liked my hot chocolate.

She had led us out of the shop, which seemed to be in a strip mall someplace underneath an indigo sky.  A hint of wind was forming, and sunset was at its…peak.  If you could describe it like that.  There was a convenience store at the corner, which reminded me.  Well, it reminded my stomach, which obliged and made a rude noise.

“I require sustenance,” I said, breaking off from where she was leading and heading towards that corner.

“Marshmallows do not await,” she said.  I took it for another gesture of acquiescence.

Actually, the realms of darkness and convenience store hotdogs have a lot in common.   You really don’t want to know.

I offered to buy her a soda.  When she turned me down I offered her orange juice, that being the closest thing to nectar I could easily manage.  She turned that down, so I went for the low blow.  I offered her pixie sticks.

And I called them that, too.

She settled for a half-stale doughnut.  I took the opportunity to read the name of the city off the newspaper, surprised that we were within two states of where we started.  I realized that it wasn’t that surprising to put something that powerful out in where people had to work a little to find him.  I bought myself a soda, a bag of cheese things that were likely to leave orange dust everywhere, and a bag of beef jerky.

I settled down to eat, leaning against a pole at the parking lot.  Doloise was dainty about her food.  She glared at the men coming in and out of the store who stared at her.  I just smiled and washed down the cheese things and the jerky with the cool refreshing taste of perfectly chilled battery acid.  Doloise managed to keep her hands from being sticky.  I just figured all my clothing could be washed, so what was some florescent orange?

“So, now, refortified and preparing for a trip into the depths of metaphor, are you going to put me through the indignity of a gate again, or do we grow wings and fly or…?” This was her trip.  She could manage the transportation.

She smiled.  She pointed with a finger that suddenly reminded me of a claw (the way her smile had reminded me that she had sharp, pointy teeth) to a motorcycle that had just driven up.  “We will take that.”

“Um, the fellow who owns it,” a young fellow with no regard for his safety (no helmet, short sleeves, and flipflops) slipped the keys into his pocket and winked at Doloise as he passed.  He ran his hand through his short-spiked black hair, and gave a little roll of the shoulders before walking in to the minimart. “He might disagree.”

“It is of no consequence.  Had he wished to protect it, there were methods he could have employed.”

“Like locking it and taking the keys with him?”

“A force of habit does not a barrier make,” she determined.  A snap, and the lights went on.  I suppose she had a point.