I have been driving long enough now to know better than to look directly at the fellow who suddenly appeared in the seat next to me, but I still had to fight the instinctual swerve away I did with the steering wheel in lieu of my entire body teleporting. Or whatever unreasonable if possibly rational instinct the brain has upon such situations.

(There’s a little digression here about how a little of the cyberpunk I’ve read disappoints me on this note, especially compared to the juncture of man and machine in real life. The brain doesn’t come with instincts about “driving,” or “riding,” which is why practice is what lays down the pattern in our heads. Too much of the cybernetic stories seem to be about adjusting to what’s already there, just now made of a different matrix. Our body knows how to use legs and arms. I like the weird stuff, which in this case is to say how man (or woman – I’m using it in the “mankind” sense) adjusts to wings, or tails, or rototiller tailbone attachments, or whatever the new black is in the cyberverse.)

Which is to say, I knew a little of how a blink dog felt, I think. Phase spider? Whatever unlikely dimensionally dooring…yeah, there it is again. I would still refute being obsessed with portals. It’s becoming a weaker and weaker defense, though, lately. And I think Fourth Edition AD&D introduced a race of ‘porters. (Well, I don’t know if it made away with encumbrance…nevermind. My Dungeon Master views anything past First Edition with a great deal of suspicion, but we’ve been playing a homebrew hybrid for years anyway. This is a gamer geek flag wave. See my flag? It is waving.)

The reason such creatures came to mind is that from the corner of my eye, the fellow on the seat looked kind of like the kobold out of the Monster Manual. A little doggish, although not quite as pronounced a jaw, but something in my glance immediately brought that label to mind.

“Would you mind buckling your seat belt?” I finally managed. It wasn’t quite as eloquent as the shout, scream, or grunt of surprise I may have made during the wrangling of the car from where it attempted to escape its lane, but it sounded pretty cool to me. “Cool,” in this case meaning non-plussed, as if I was gifted with the particular traits of inability to be surprised by anything, able to roll with the flow, like dice off a duck’s back. No, wait, that wasn’t quite right… Unfazeable. That’s the word.

The little man (really, he was no taller than a six-year old) fastened the seat belt. He pointed to the warning on the sunshade that suggested children stay in the back because of attendant air bag risks. “Kelpies doona come with air bags,” he said.

A bit heavy on the accent, but I got it. “Not even rigged out of those weird seaweed with the air bladders?”

“Nay,” he replied.

“Neigh,” I agreed with what I hoped was a subtle flaring of the nostrils. I don’t think he got it. So, kobolds weren’t really Celtic, which is the best I pegged his accent, and stated as such I risked the wrath of many linguicians. They had, wossname, spriggans. I tried to remember what spriggans looked like, but besides the really obnoxious nymphlets with a taste for bear sidekicks in the latest Elder Scrolls games, I couldn’t really bring an image to mind.

“An ya mixed up with witch business?” he asked. At least, I think it was a question and not just a sigh and a shake of his head to mean that I was a silly one or however he called it.

“Witches kiss almost as good as crazy girls,” I said, keeping my focus on the road ahead.

“Aye!” the creature chuckled. “An less likely to put you inna doghouse save literally.” He seemed pleased with himself, almost as much as I was with my “Neigh” response. (I was just being a good Neighbor. Nevermind.)

“Hounded as we all are from women,” I agreed. “But besides sharing our comparisons of the gentler gender, what are you doing in my car, and who are you. In whatever order.”

“An we were jus’ doin’ so fine, sharin’,” he complained. “This car belongs to me, an’ I’m its master.”

“Your name is Rent-a-wreck?” I surmised sarcastically.

“Nay.  I be usin’ it temporarily as my vehicle.  You’re involved in small stuff, are ye na?”

The first part almost made sense.  The question, though, didn’t make any sense until I capitalized one of the words.  The Small Kingdoms.  Oh dear.  “Perhaps incidentally. I’ve a… friend who introduced us.”

“Aye. A Thomas.”  It seemed to matter to him.

“Would a Jack have been better?” Hey, I read.

“Power of names, but we be foolin’.  Ye’ve no idea wherefore the King be playin’ games with a wee bit of wizard like ya?”

“Never met the fellow.  And to sound kind of mercenary about it, he hasn’t given me any reason to help out except for sending a troll to my doorstep.”  I belatedly remembered the rock, but, well, except for some cleavage jokes it was just a token of good faith, not payment, right?

“Sir Darius is na only a knight of the Small Ways.  He wears a mark such as ye, na that of a Shadow King’s, but puissant enow.  He’s known seven kingdoms and heralded for most.  Powerful friends ye must hae.”

“I think I followed what you said but it still didn’t make any sense to me.  Yeah, I know I’m marked.  Got that part.   And yeah, that was his name.  I’d forgotten, although it’s not like I’m spoilt for choice when it comes to trolls.  I’ve only really met the one.”  I was nearing my exit, and it was taking some concentration.  Rent-a-wreck was playing with the switch for the glove compartment with his foot.  I tried ignoring it.

“Less’n your marked by Dragons, we suppose.”  The little man sighed.  “The courts are curious and ye might do well to stay home to the solstice, stay to places that are loved by their keepers, na such as this where any man can take control.  I’m a beastie that loves iron, so no comfort for ye there, ye being a reader an all.”

“What about fibreglass?” I caught myself asking.

“Gremlin poop,” he retorted.  His accent was completely gone for a moment.

I grinned.

“An were you told of another messenger?”  Accent returned.

“Uh, yeah.”

“He speaks partial sooth.  There be three in total.  Must be.  An your witches, they will na protect you.”  The little man laughed, a whistling sound.  “Do na fail to notice the small things.”

“I’ll sweat them, don’t worry.  Hey, what’s with the accent?”

“Tradition, wizard.  An it’ll hide me from your enemies by being so daft.”  He disappeared, then, but I knew he would.  The seatbelt retracted and I never even swerved an inch.

I drove up and parked in the same gravel area in which Magda had kicked up dust so few weeks before. Ed was leaning against his work vehicle and scowling at his smartphone as if his expression could pick up the right kind of signal to make it work. He twitched his nose a few times, and his frown turned into a wry grin as something he thumbed gave him an answer he liked. I moved over and waited for him to be done.

He had changed out of his work clothes, and was in the sweatshirt and jeans he practically lived in as a second house. (He kept that one very close to his chest, you might say.) I watched past him, looking at the anomaly he had warned me about, trying to figure it out for myself.

When I stop trying too hard, I’ve got a fair head for math. At least, for making sure my guesses are in the right overall area, if not always exact. I think that’s a good knack to have, honestly. In this case, my guesses all went kind of haywire, kind of, “This is higher math than I can handle.” The kind of thing I’d bring in a science fiction writer for, I think. I was wondering how to measure folded space without going inside and taking a ruler to the fold.

“So, I was thinking,” Ed started, “how do you measure folded space from the outside?”

I resisted the urge to laugh aloud.

“It’s easy,” he continued. “You use the reference points you already established. But I’m not a math guy. And, of course, I’ve never been here before. Passed it a few times, but you can see, it doesn’t look odd to anyone just driving. Maybe it’s a variable because of the speed of traffic – if we had a rush hour jam people might notice it, but I have to really stop and look before I see that it’s weird.”

I had been resting against his truck, too. When I moved, I lost the faint line I was looking at, so I nodded. “How did you find it in the first place?” I asked.

“I was trying to be surreptitious. You know, all sneaky-sneaky.” He grinned, and made tip-toeing motions with his fingers. “So after it took me a few minutes to figure out where the place needed to be, and a few turns up and down the road, I just brazened in, took the best parking spot, and, look there–” he pointed at the ground.

I moved over and saw just what he meant. I don’t have any hunting or tracking skills, either, but Ed has an attention to detail tuned to small crawly things that don’t belong. In this case, what didn’t belong didn’t crawl – it was like a cleaning commercial, actually. Things on the left were used and didn’t come up like the stuff on the right with the special brand name cleaner. In this case, it was like the stuff on the left had been used for a house, and the space on the right had been next to the road, or against the wilderness.

I moved around and tried to keep the strange line in space at an angle. Once it hit “sky” you couldn’t tell at all. I hoped it wasn’t intersecting any airspace. We’d have our own Bermuda Triangle scheme. (Or is it only a scheme when it’s a pyramid?) Not to mention all the utility questions I had in mind.

“What kind of witchery is it?” I breathed aloud. It wasn’t quite talking under my breath, but it was full of wonder. I’d never seen anything like it affecting my own world.

Maybe that was it. It could be an illusion – a matter of perception. A way of bending light or something else that just made it seem different. After all, a great deal of magic did have to do with prestidigitation, right? And headology. This would be a fabulous conjunction if…

I realized the second bit more belatedly than I had any right. There was no open door.

See, if it had actually been put somewhere else, but still evident, the door would have to be open. I didn’t hear anything, not a sound. I didn’t smell the wind of somewhere else. I didn’t taste the spheres of Beyond.

I picked up a rock and tossed it where I thought things might be. The rock itself underwent a kind of shimmery cartoon-like change, flattening and then turning in on itself and disappearing. The way cats sometimes do when they’re startled.

“Hah!” I exclaimed in triumph.

“That was…odd,” Ed said. “Hey, do it again so I can capture it on my camera and upload it to Youtube or something.”

“Eh,” I shrugged. “They’d only think we were doing it for a special effects class or something. We’re being tricked.”

“Is someone going to jump out and say we’re on Candid Camera?”

“Cantrip camera, maybe.” I shook my head. “I wouldn’t walk in there – what happened to the rock might be a warning that the place is twisted. You know, like leaving someone’s monitor display turned to the side or something. But it isn’t a doorway, it’s all just hidden.”

“Pretend for a moment that I understood. I kind of get the idea that if we went up to it and we weren’t Bugs Bunny or Duck Dodgers we wouldn’t survive the trip. Question is, who hid it?” He put his phone away and went into the passenger side door. He came out with a couple industrial flashlights, handing one to me.

“I think it’s a good question, but tell me why you do?” I asked.

“Because people hide things for one reason – to make sure other people can’t find them. But you do that for two reasons, both of which seem like the same thing but have different emphasis. It’s like nests. You want to keep your eggs safe for you, and you want to keep them safe from someone else. It’s the, um, for and from that make the difference.”

“Right. Did Sylvie do this as a panic mode or did something do it to her?”

“What you said.” He nodded and flashed the light towards the line as it was fading in the darkness. I heard him gasp, and I turned to look at what it revealed.

I was contemplating my drink the way someone does when they’re teetering farther on the edge of “actually drunk” rather than the “merely getting tipsy” portion they measure themselves as being. The, “Oh, this is really pretty liquid. Especially in this insufficient light. I’m sure it has amazing physical properties. Water’s pretty neat, too, you know. You can do neat things with water. I wonder if there are frozen martini planets in space,” kind of thoughts that drinking allows to float in my head, as if in a lazy innertube ride through the rivers of the mind.

There are things you can’t un-see, and I am ever so happy to be a rationalizing human being who can eventually desensitize and forget the events I’ve been unfortunate enough to encounter of that, “I’d like some brain bleach, please,” nature. While I’m in no hurry to experience any sort of dementia, there are certainly things I would pick and choose from, and if some fey being asks for some of my memories in return for a gift, I already have them organized and ready.

Of course, the measure of that is incredibly idiosyncratic. Some people, as I’ve noted, don’t want to think of their parents having sex. Or of that ridiculous scene in that movie they made merely to push the boundaries of what kind of gore they can show on screen. (Which I think is cheating the viewing public. Trust me, that squirming sense of discomfort your brain gives in thinking of the atrocities off screen is a thousand times more rich and unusual than the actual discomfort of the special effect. After a while all we’re marking down is the splatter patterns of dyed dark corn syrup or whatever blood substitute they’re using these days and ignoring the paid shrieks of the actors. Some of the artistry in gore comes from studio-made masterpieces, but it only suggests fear the same way it suggests its realer counterparts. Of course, it’s thinking like this that would have us critiquing the effects of a snuff film. “The melodrama of the last minute was ineffective,” the critics would say. “Not enough explosions,” we’d see on Twitter… Um, sober? Not so much.)

Maggie hadn’t shown up yet. We were in the same dive bar in Boulder that Ed frequents because he hasn’t graduated to having taste, yet. I don’t know if there’s a four year school for it outside the culinary arts. I guess it’s all in the mind of the beholder anyway. Eye of the ilithid? No, wait. It sold alcohol, the prices were satisfactory, and the service was as well. I wouldn’t eat here, but I try not to eat where I can’t see the food anyway. The amber light fixtures probably built ambiance that brought to mind episodes of the Brady Bunch I thought long buried in the darkest recesses of my brain.

At least it wasn’t, say, Bennigan’s. Their potato skins used to be good, but with that and their signature Monte Cristo, even with the side of broccoli I was probably courting death more specifically than in jibing with a Shadow King. A delicious, guilty death, but a hastened one.

“I think I’m hungry.” I said it to my glass. I had been holding it up like I was in black crystal thrall or something.

“I’m not drunk enough to eat after that,” Ed said. He took a swig out of the bottle. (He refused to drink anything that hadn’t been sealed before the bartender touched it, yet I knew he had a homebrew set-up at home. It just sounded like a lot more touching than a tap system, but what did I know? I just fought Dragons and discovered errors in the laws of space and time.)

“Maggie will know what to do,” I said. I said it like I believed it, like I had my faith in the Magster to work some miracles. “Anyway, it was probably an illusion.” I drank what was in my glass. That was the philosophical shot.

“No more for you if you’re invoking Mags. Bartender, cut him off. He’s crazy. Says he’s a wizard and can close rifts in space and time,” Ed spoke over me.

The bartender harrumphed, the only sign that he was even listening.

“Sooth,” I said. “‘Cept I’m no wizard.”

“True,” Matana said, settling down to the stool next to me lightly and silently. I likened it uncharitably like a bat finding its home stalactite.

“Heya, Ed, have you met Maggie’s latest exotic pet?” I asked.

Matana’s expression darkened, and Ed caught it. He pushed my glass away. “You’re done, E. You’re not becoming a mean drunk on my watch.”

“I’m not on your watch,” I muttered, and I stumbled as he pulled me away from the bar.

“Yeah, because you’re not sitting on my wrist. But you might be on my steel-toed boot pretty soon. I’m sorry, miss.”

“My name is Matana,” she said, with that silky hint of accent.

“I’m Ed. I run `Unwanted HouseGuests.’ Run them out of town, actually.”

“Are you secretly an Edward?” she asked.

“Not a chance. Family curse. I could have been a Teddy if my mom’s mum had her way, but someone decided on a little dignity. Last name’s more French, though, so the masculinity quotient may even out since it’s come up the bayou and not from wine country. Hey, E, are you going to be sick.”

“If I close my eyes I see it again. If I don’t close my eyes I get dizzy.”

“Maggie will be here soon,” Matana said. She lightly touched my elbow and I flinched enough that I hit Ed with my shoulder.

He hit me back.

I wobbled.

More than words came out in balance. I had at least made it into the parking lot before I desecrated the shrubbery with my nervousness and a bit of alcohol, and images of a place that couldn’t exist. A place where the angles were all wrong. A glimpse via a flashlight to what had to be an illusion. I believed in Euclid. I would clap my hands if it helped, but really, I had one arm on Ed, and the other on Matana for a moment, feeling incredibly weak.

That would, of course, be the moment Maggie drove up.

It was not my finest moment. Of course, it came in what was certainly not my finest hour, and it was certainly not shaping up to be my finest day. I had taken it to be somewhat like expecting the whole Klingon, “Today is a good day to die,” statement to be a weather forecast. “Not looking good tomorrow, though. We’ve got a low pressure suicidal frenzy coming from the East, though that might make Thursday an awesome day to meet your maker.” On the other hand, I was alive, I was in relatively good health, I had rid my body of a great deal of demon rum (well, it wasn’t rum, and it wasn’t demonic, but it was still definitely an exorcism of sorts) and Matana’s hand had come off my arm as Maggie parked.

So it was actually turning around, all things considered.

Or was my hand on Matana’s?

We could argue it later. I wasn’t on my knees in the dirt. I focused on that for a moment. That and the fact that it looked like there was blood on the grille of Maggie’s car. Oh, Mags. Swerving into squirrels again, were we?

She kind of nodded to Ed, and then addressed Matana. “Is he sober?”

“He’s trying.”

“Yeah, but is he sober?” she stole my line. “Nevermind. We’ll do it the fast way. I can spare that.”

Again with the snap, and again with the fuzziness in my head being driven away by a wash of witchiness. A wallow of witchery. A wiggle of witch. I made a mental note to apply to some council of venery out there to make it a wiggle of witches rather than the traditional coven.

A guy can hope. I stood up slowly.

“I hate it when you do that,” I breathed out.

“You can be self-indulgent on your own time. Come on. I’ll drive your car.” She held out her hand for my keys, and Ed supplied them. Traitor. I’m going to start calling him “Teddy.”

“Why isn’t this my time? When does it get to be my time?” I was muttering.

Magda turned around and looked me straight in the eye. “Quit your whining. I indulged you plenty, as did Sylvia. Poor baby, survived a flick of a claw from a Dragon.”

“Really?” Ed asked Matana.

I saw Matana nod out of the corner of my eye.

“Wow.” Alright, the Teddy thing was out of line. I upgraded my opinion instantaneously. “That was stupid.”

I regretted my mercurial nature.

“That is a word that could be used for it,” Matana agreed. I already didn’t like the vampire, so she didn’t get a change in her status.

“So, what’s the plan, grand poobahstress?” Ed asked as he climbed into the back seat.

“Hey,” I noted. “You’re not allowed to drive this thing. It’s in my rental agreement and everything.” Really, it’s like a minimum $15 or so to add on another driver, and I know how many tickets Maggie has had for speeding.

Zero, but that’s not the point. She should get one every single day.

Maggie tilted her head and gave me a Look.

I relented.

She straightened the mirrors out before answering Ed. Matana did not wear a seatbelt. I suppose she’d just drain us of blood and heal herself if we got in an accident. It was something to look forward to, I guessed.

“Someone has declared war.”

“If it’s not a bug, I’m probably not of any help,” Ed noted, quickly.

“Why are you in the car, Ed?” I asked.

“She gave you this…look, and it said in my head, `And, Ed, if you’re not cooperating and in the backseat by the count of three, I’ll make it so every sunspider in a hundred miles thinks your place is irresistable.'” He reflected. “Maybe not in so many words.”

“Good man,” Matana smiled at him.

“Maybe, but I’m an awfully good exterminator, that’s for sure. So, what we saw wasn’t the realm of the exoskeletal. It was more a Boschian triptych with a side of gruesome.”

“You must have been drinking to make that comparison,” I muttered.

“Hey, I might have been an art major once upon a time,” he winked to take the mock-offended tone to the area of mock. Um. Or something like that. I may not have been drunk anymore, but I still get kind of lightheaded after Maggie’s trick.

“It was certainly a surrealist’s depiction of wherever the place was. And it was disturbingly…” he looked for a word. “Sexy.” He hurried to qualify, “but only in a very weird way. No one seemed to be enjoying themselves, except that they were, if you, um, see what I mean.” He waved his hands.

“The -cubi,” Maggie sighed.

“Somehow they’d attracted two with less than a dozen people,” I said. It sounded very flat. “But they’re beasts and we can’t beat them with broomsticks. What are you expecting Ed and I to do?”

“Be our male counterparts in the ritual,” she said. “I didn’t get much more in the way of specifics other than we needed some gender dualities.”

“Um,” Ed looked at me for help.

I checked the door, and it was locked. I gauged carefully what kind of injuries I would likely have to handle at about 70 miles per hour if I jumped out of the speeding car.

Maggie just sighed.

“It’s not like that, boys.”

Ed swallowed visibly, and while I was tempted to just tell him to spit, it didn’t seem like it would be as funny said aloud as it was in my head, so I stayed quiet.

“Um. If I say, `Good,’ you won’t hate me forever…or turn me into a frog, will you?” Ed asked, kind of in a rush.

Matana smiled at him and brushed his hand, making him jump. “No,” she said, and she purred. I mean, like, literally.

“Oh. Well. Good.” He gave me another desperate look.

“You got in the car,” I pointed out.

“You must have an unusual dentist, ma’am,” he said to Matana. “And I’m in over my head. I knew it would happen one day. I told my self, `Ed, that E fellow, he’s going to get you in over your head one day,’ and look where it is. Two hot chicks, some kind of ritual near a portal of agony and ecstasy, and I’m going to die, aren’t I? My mother will be vindicated. She always told me I was going to end up in something weird and wicked. She had a bit of the sight, Mum did. Weird and wicked.”

“A portal of agony and ecstasy?” I asked him.

“Hey, I don’t just read MSDS sheets. I can quote poetry, too.” He sighed.

“I like E,” Matana declared to Maggie. “He always gives us such interesting evenings.”

Great. The bloodsucker likes me. Did I mention it was not my finest day?

There was silence in the car for a while. It wasn’t a very long while, because, well, Maggie was driving. Matana smiled at Ed every couple of minutes, indicating clearly to me that I could check off “sadist” as a fairly descriptive attribute. It probably was part of the whole vampire package.

I didn’t know how they sold becoming a vampire to the host. Pamphlets? “Blood-sucking…yeah, let’s put that in the negative category. On the good side? No need for orthodontists. Or dentists. OK… well. Um. No more sunlight? OK. Sunlight causes skin cancer, anyway. I never ate at breakfast places anyway. Um… I do miss the cheap movies, but, really, immortality means I’ll have time to watch everything in my Tivo queue.” Or maybe it’s something like that, “Draw your interpretation of this sketch, and we’ll invite you to Vampire School.”

I meet more vampires at Walmart than I can stand, really. (No one gets a symbiote from Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Unless that’s what those fuzzy bubble guys who do the scrubbing in the cartoons are. I always thought they were a type of alien. Mr. Clean, well, I’m not sure about him, but he does seem pretty suspicious, if you ask me. Ridiculously charismatic amongst a certain set, I’m sure.) You might get good teeth (they’re no longer exactly teeth if I understand it – the old ones rot out and you get these new crazy soul-sifting baleen things. On the other hand, I’m not a dentist.) but there’s no transformation of your fashion sense.

Maggie parked in a way that, surprisingly, didn’t have me biting my lip and worrying because I didn’t put the extra insurance on the vehicle. (I was already covered by my regular insurance and didn’t think to expect my ex-girlfriend to drive.) She got out and stretched for a moment, like she’d been caught in some sort of crouch all day. You know, like getting up out of your seat and straightening out.

No, wait, that was an invocation towards light. My bad. The light gathered around her in a sort of hazy aura that at first looked like dust motes, and then gained a little steam. If it hadn’t turned so dark outside you would have figured, oh, it’s the residual light from having the car door open, only then your brain would have to poke you a few times and say, “Wait, light doesn’t really work that way in this case.”

She moved out towards the Bad Thing and continued to gather glow. It might be a weird way to describe it, but it was at least accurate.

Matana melted out of the car (she really did move beautifully, and I don’t know if that was her or part of the package) and met up with Maggie on the right side. She didn’t illuminate, but she did kind of smoulder a little. The witches of smoke and glow. It had a poetic aspect to it. I got out to close Maggie’s door, while Ed got Matana’s. Hopefully they hadn’t left the doors open for a quick getaway.

“That’s… awful purty,” Ed ended up saying.

“It’s magic,” I agreed. I tried to sound more jaded than envious. I don’t want that kind of power – it’s like wearing spandex and a funny symbol – you’re always a target no matter who or what you serve.

Every once in a while, though, it’d be nice. Nice to make the world change the way I want it to, rather maybe than the way it just…does. I don’t believe the world’s out to get me. I’m the protagonist in my own life, not everyone else’s stories. If I was lucky I might make it to sidekick, or part of a group ensemble, or maybe even antagonist in someone else’s series. Not the focus of any story’s real intention, at least.

Of course, thinking like that gets you et by Dragons.

“What do they want us to do?”

“Standing there and gawking, while suited to your meager talents, is, alas, not conducive to our cause,” Magda said. “Stay quiet a moment while I look at what we have here.”

“It’s not a portal,” I said. I didn’t shout it at her, I just said it.

“Are you sure?” she asked, anyway. Her hearing was always better than mine.

“It’s what I do,” I snapped.

They focused the combination of light and mist into something kind of like a mirror, or maybe the term “looking glass” was far more appropriate. I had already seen the show, but I was vindicated somewhat from the harsh gasps the two of them gave at the sight.

Light and smoke both faded. “Explain,” Maggie said.

“The house is in a wrapper, kind of.”

“Like a present?” Ed asked.

“Yeah. It’s not an intrusion because it isn’t complete – the seam, so to speak, is there, it’s just so twisted in on itself that nothing can move through. Those in the house are probably seriously freaked out, but until they break the rules and let them in, they’re completely safe.” I looked towards where I judged the line to be. “It’s very clever, and it takes some serious power to develop, let alone maintain. Tell me about Sylvia, Mags. What is she?”

Matana drifted over, while Ed tried to make his brain follow the topology I suggested. He had his flashlight out again, and made some lines in the dirt while Maggie considered my question. “She’s human,” she finally said.

“As compared to what?” I asked. “I’m human, you’re human. Ask anyone off the street to do what you just did with the foxfire there and you’d be lucky to get more than a blank stare. Ed’s human. Heck, Matana was human.”

“Thank you for noticing,” the vampire said, her smile somewhere still in her expression, but mostly faded. Do faces experience screen burnout? Nevermind.

“Get to the point, E.”

“You just don’t like being wrong. I’m used to it. I am wrong most of the time, so it’s a comfortable place for me, the kind of place I can put my feet up on the table and belch if the situation warrants.”

“Um, E?” Ed asked.

“Yeah. The point. See, Sylvia didn’t just stumble upon the -cubi, Mags. She summoned them, didn’t she? Deliberately, which is why she maintained as much control as she did, drawing you out there.”

Maggie spat out a curse and looked away, but Matana nodded, slowly.

“She’s been into your head. And mine, too. Which means this is a trap.”

“And we’ve played into it?” Maggie asked, bitterly.

“Only kind of…” It came from Ed, and it was thoughtful, so I turned to listen.

“Explain yourself, I mean, give me hope, man. What do you mean?” I asked Ed. Because, you know, someone had to, and all the girls did was point what were probably meaningful expressions his way.

You know, for all the stereotypes of girls talking a lot, they do a lot of communicating in body language that changes those words. A tilt of the hips, a tilt of the head, a tilt in a pinball game…no wait, one of those things aren’t like the others. I know which one!

“I’m not saying you’re not an open book with, heck, pages falling out of it and certain expressions of yours so big and obvious they might as well be painted in flaming letters forty meters high. In case you were wondering,” Ed joked. “Sylvia knows you. And agreed to go out on a date, anyway. She was surprised, you said. What if that was real? What if it’s more a matter of her allies taking her on, so to speak, and not if I understand her allies in the nudge-nudge-wink-wink, and all that way.”

Maggie nodded slowly. “They are not known for their planning capabilities. They’re known for their impulsive acts of hedonism. To delay the pleasure seems unrealistic in some way, I guess.”

Matana had a strange distracted look when I glanced at her to see if she had an opinion on the subject. I called it distracted, but it occurred to me that maybe that’s the blank, inhuman look vampires get in the books, when they’re communing with their inner Beast or somesuch. (I know, I told Doloise not to call her a Beast, but that was out loud. You can call people names on the inside, right?)

(On second thought, no, you can’t, because if I’m an open book then I can’t keep that kind of thing secret. So it’s better to change my way of thinking than to try to put on a mask. Or live up to it and just call her what my prejudices name her. I’m sure there are people who don’t filter their thoughts and just open their mouth. Glad I’m not one of them.)

(Ahem.)

Maggie continued. “On the other hand, I don’t know much about their… homeworld. Darn it, E! You’re contagious.”

“I didn’t sneeze,” I said, coming back to the conversation.

“No, I should have said something like, ‘home plane’ or ‘originating dimension’ or somesuch. ‘Homeworld’ is too much like something you’d say.”

“I’m a good influence on you.” I grinned.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. I saw her look at Matana as if for some support from the Weirdness Which Is Me. She frowned.

“I think she’s talking on the inside or somesuch,” I said, in a false-conspiratorial tone.  I made the gesture with my hand that indicates “woo”-iness.  Or some such phraseology.  Of course, I was talking to a witch about a vampire, so I may not have been in the right place for my gesture to be read.  I tended to think of myself as a skeptic, but I knew a lot of it was that kind of situation where it was okay to believe in what I felt was “right and good” and to mock those people who were so “obviously” deluded.

“That is not entirely false,” Matana said. “I do not separate myself that precisely from my… inner … demons, as you might describe them.” She gave me a wry, but still amused, smile. “I was searching Our memories,” she said, delicately emphasizing the Our with an acquiescing gesture towards me. “It seems to me that there are controlling interests who may be more subtle than the -cubi more commonly experienced.”

“Hey, like Overseers,” Ed said, enthusiastically. “Maybe there’s a kind of bootcamp where leather-coated Mistresses send the succubi who are going to go out into the world through special breathing training and…” he paused and looked at us. “And yeah… um, that’s not exactly a fantasy, more kind of thinking about Dungeon Keeper. It was an old computer game,” he explained.

“Overseers,” Maggie repeated. “Something like that, perhaps. Lilim?” she asked Matana, as if it were a name, but not, I guess, a True Name kind of thing.

“The answer is hazy,” Matana replied.

“Try again,” I suggested, keeping up with her Magic 8 Ball language.

“What we saw was not a pleasurable place, although it was meticulously designed to suggest it, minus the agony,” Matana nodded her chin towards Ed as if in thanks for the word.

“So what if the -cubi are actually reaching out to help, and Sylvie’s been kidnapped to make a point?” I asked.

Maggie nodded, a bit more vigorously.

Ed scratched his chin. “I like that a lot better than your earlier thought.”

“Can you open the seam, E?” Mags asked.

I thought about it. “It’s not a portal.”  I shook my head.  “It’s precisely not a portal.”

“Could we split it somehow and make it a portal?” Maggie asked.  “You’ve been doing this for a while,” she pointed out.  “Have you figured out  how your pasting the edges together works, anyway?

“I use the mint stuff.  Tastes even better than wall candy,” I sighed.  I took a step away, trying to feel the edge of the wrapper somehow, as if I tried hard enough I could sense it in the dark.

“Wall candy?” Matana asked.

“He’s referring to lead in paint,” Ed explained.

“It is not a Willy Wonka reference?” Magda asked.

“You know, come to think about it…” Ed shrugged.

Matana smiled.  “I love that movie.”

“Not the remake, I hope,” Ed sounded concerned.

I moved a little farther to try to get myself out of the conversation.  I tried calling Sylvia again, just, you know, in case it helped being closer or something.  It went straight to voicemail.   “Sylvie here.  Or not here, rather, because if I were here, I’d be answering the phone and not making you leave a message.  Do your thing!”

I turned back to Magda.  “What was your scry exactly?”  Ed and Matana were comparing originals to remakes.  I only like the remake of one thing over the original, maybe two, so I was good to be excluded.

“Male and female principles.  The tower in the lover’s shadow.  That sort of ambiguous thing.  You were the closest thing to male for the time being that I could easily find,” she said with a sarcastic tone in her voice.  Then a moment later, softer, ” I could always find you, E.”  She sighed.

“Even after all the times you told me to get lost,” I grinned.  “Hey.  You want me to give you a hard time, you’ll have to wait in line.  I’m picking up cute college coeds or something.”

“Rohana isn’t your normal type.”

“She’s quick.  I like that.”  I shrugged.  “I didn’t expect to jump into dating like this.  I was kind of ambushed, really.”

Maggie grinned.  “You are kind of clueless when it comes to people flirting with you.  Your Doloise, for example, at that terrible dinner.  Movie sucked, too.”

“She had her…own issues,” I decided.  I wasn’t going to talk about her.  “Anyway, what were you planning?”

“Ed looks pretty happy with Matana.”  She changed the subject.

“Yeah, they’re cute.  A lioness and her zebra dinner.  You’re changing the subject.”

“Kiss me.”

“What?” A month ago I would have jumped at the chance.  Now it was like if she asked me to jump off a bridge.

“For science.  Or magic, at least.”

I hesitated.

“Would you rather kiss the vampire?”

“Uh, no.  I just… this isn’t conducive to passion or anything.”

“I don’t need passion.  I just need the underlying connection of male and female, and we still have that.”  She grabbed my hand and pulled me to her.

I think I kind of hated myself in that I didn’t really resist.

I didn’t know what kind of lips-touching-lips would seal the deal.  Did there have to be moisture for the water element, and the feeling of heat between us for fire, and the sharing of breath for air, and who knows what, maybe one of us ends up on the gravel to finish out the play of those classic elements? 

If so, the spell was going to be gravely disappointed.

We kissed, just a quick peck, and then kind of both stood there uncomfortably for a moment.  Magda let go of my arm.  It was very awkward.

“I don’t think that worked,” I said.

“Yeah, that was kind of… weird.”

“Awkward.  Weird would have been if we’d been doing it hanging from a rope made of llama hair and duct tape over a pit of juggling tuba players,” I said solemnly.

“Did you have that answer rehearsed or was that improvised?” she asked, a smile kind of twitching at her lips. 

“Sheer improvisation, baby.  I’m the master of the weird metaphor, and this time, yes, I meant the word weird.”  I kicked a pebble with the top of my shoe.  “So, what’s Plan B?”

“I’m up to Plan J, I think,” she said, and this time she giggled a bit, looking at her fingers. 

Matana and Ed came back from their conversation, both looking satisfied, or, at least as if they’d come up with a new idea from talking.

“It’s precisely not a Portal,” Ed said.  It was as if he wasn’t asking, but repeating what I had said for clarification, so I nodded.

“Precisely?” Matana asked.

“I don’t know how to measure it, if you’re looking for something like it being 3 centimeters or one point six precision dohickeys away from being a Portal, but look at what it is.  It’s not quite a bubble, but it’s just one slit in the fabric of reality from being one.  It’s carefully wrapped around the boarding house.  They’d probably see that other reality through their windows.  They’re probably freaked the heck out, if anyone else is in there.”

“That’s another question I had,” Ed said.  “I mean, no one came by when I was here, and now we’re back and there’s been very little traffic.”

“She didn’t live alone.  She had a few housemates, can’t recall their names off the top of my head, and then there was the manager and a couple of other people rented out the end area.  Big common room in the back, big shared kitchen…” I tried to remember the layout.

“It’s not important except in trying to guess at the planning of the fiends who did it,” Ed explained.  “Because there’s also no cars but ours in the lot, too.”

“Could have been the man from Mars,” I pointed out.

“I thought he only eats guitars now,” Maggie said, quietly.

“Maybe he fell off his diet,” I said, risking a glance at Matana.  The vampire returned it coolly.

“Seriously, though, we think it’s someone you know,” Ed said.

“Like some sort of enemy from my past?” I asked.  “I really think I’m kind of small potatoes.  In a hashbrown world.”  I grinned.

“What?” Ed and Maggie kind of looked at me.

“Nevermind.  It was something a friend said to me once.  I liked it.”  Guess it didn’t make much sense to them outside of…context.  Yeah.  “I just don’t think this is the Dragon’s style.”

“Well, you are the expert,” Ed said, with just a little skepticism in his voice.

“It is not,” Matana said.  She sounded certain. 

“Good,” I muttered.  “I don’t remember making anyone else mad at me.  Oh, maybe some wizards, but they paid me off, so I don’t think they’re holding too much of a grudge.  And the guy who popped up in my car on my way here said this was witchy-stuff, so it’s not likely the King of Small Things or whoever he is.”

Ed held up a hand, while Maggie gave me a puzzled look.  Matana looked amused.

“What?” he repeated.

“Um, life has been a bit more surreal than usual,” I said.

“E, bro, if I didn’t know you’ve done some weird stuff,” (and he didn’t use the word, “stuff,”) “I’d say you had been sniffing glue or something.  Do you have underwear gnomes whispering things in your ear at night?”

I laughed.  I could have been affronted, but it did sound pretty ridiculous. 

Maggie shrugged.  “Fighting Dragons and consorting with wizards is pretty fairy tale.  I had independent confirmation, though, so I’m convinced on most of the main details.”

Ed turned to Matana.  “And you’re a vampire.  OK.  Forgive my Winston Zeddemore moment.”

“You’re way too white for the role,” I pointed out.

“See, now, that’s just like you’re the man keeping me down.”  He frowned.  “Anyone else in your weird set of acquaintances?  Something that was upset you closed the door on it?  Itinerant demonic salesman?  Teenage beyonder out past curfew?  Some Romeo who took it badly when you shut down the Capulet party?”

“I think it was Mercutio who got in trouble for that one,” I pointed out.  “But anyway, not that I know… of…”  I frowned.  “I thought my scar was supposed to tingle,” I said, suddenly, breaking off and walking towards where the house ought to be.

“Um, Mister Potter, could you explain for those of us who got mad in book six?”  Ed asked, catching up.  Maggie and Matana weren’t even a step behind.

“The Shadow King.  He could do this.  This is totally his style.”

Matana frowned.  “The one whose mark you bear?”

“Just like a big ol’ chip on my shoulder,” I growled. 

“What did you do to him?” Maggie asked.

“Asked him nicely to leave.   Just like I’m going to do now,” I said.  I shouted, cupping my hands like a megaphone towards the house.  “Hey there, the demon realm!”

I didn’t really expect an answer, but I got one.  It spooked me enough that I took a step back.  OK, a big jump, but so did my companions.

The world warped, and then a golden image appeared.  It was a beautiful woman wrapped in golden light, as if seen through cellophane.  She was completely starkers, and fairly transparent, as if she had been drawn in charcoals that emitted light instead of, well, charcoal.

“Hello, doctor,” she said in a voice that was, if not pure sex, definitely safe sex.  You know, because of all the wrapping around her.

“I thought the line was, `Helloooo, Nurse,'” Ed complained.

Ask and you shall be answered.  Of course, now I had to act like I knew what I was doing.  Was this a “take me to your leader” moment, or was it a, “I need to know who I’m talking to?”   If it was a video game, they’d offer me the latter so that I could get into the cut-scene that elaborated the actual details of the plot.

I watched the creature undulate for a moment and realized my actual brain’s working was somewhat distracted.

“You know who I am,” I didn’t make it a question.  “Are you prepared to negotiate?”

“If that is what you wish to call it,” she said with that voice of hers.  Her hands rolled down her sides, ending in a brush against her groin, an obscene bridge of flesh brought down to a single entendre and making no doubts as to what she was offering.  I mean, this wasn’t even an, “If correctly viewed, anything is lewd,” scenario.  This was a version of the condemned man’s last sexual fantasy, the kind of opportunity that wasn’t likely to repeat.

Unable to summon a cold shower on command, I pinched myself. “Despite not being a duly designated representative of anything but my own superego, I order you and your people to release your hold on my date, and all other existing beings belonging to my home plane, and to cease any and all supernatural  activity whereupon you should return forthwith to your place of origin or to the nearest convenient parallel dimension.”

“You borked up the quote,” Ed hissed.

I decided it was fair enough to guess that even as many times as I’d seen it, “Ghostbusters” was not used as a training video amongst the hoi polloi of those who travelled Beyond.

The creature laughed, a musical sound.  She had moved only slightly closer to us, and I saw that Maggie had constructed a primitive ward in front of herself.  She held red thread in her left hand, knotted thinly in some arcane tangle.  Golden light shimmered around her, and she changed ever so slightly, growing inches taller, and maybe a little less buxom as she focused on me.  I shifted my stance to try to prevent parts of me from doing the same.  Minus the light, thankfully.  If I ever unzipped to a spotlight, I’d… you know, I really don’t know what I’d do.  I didn’t think I’d really have to make a plan for that, especially if she got within reach.

“Stop that,” I said.  I backed up another step.

“You wished to negotiate,” she reminded me.

“We can do it from a distance,” I said.

“Oh, can we?” She giggled. “I believe you brag about your prowess.”

“I don’t,” Matana said, stepping forward.  Her eyes were shiny and black in the darkness, like reflecting pools with hints of gold.  It was a subtle change, but something in the way she moved had shifted.  I felt the stirring of something Opening, just the faintest trill of power.  Were there hints of fangs, a flash of teeth in the cool moonlight?

A wash of cold wind blew over me.  I thought it was idiosyncratic, but as it touched the skin of the creature, her golden light wavered.  She hissed something in a language I wanted to find beautiful, but was part an erotic gasp and moan, and a chattering of squirrel or rat.  Matana managed a response, or, rather, the thing inside Matana did.  It was like the language itself caused frost in the air between us.

I felt left out of the conversation.  I was about to complain when the creature took a step back and raised her right arm, and with a word that crashed like thunder, light blew out from the seam in the sky.  It was like a package of light unzipping itself, and a house just flopping out.

A house, covered by dozens, hundreds, maybe even thousands of copulating creatures, in all stages of writhing and denial of gravity.  The creatures were of all colours, shapes, sizes, the similarity all being in the gross exaggeration, almost hyperbole in some cases of their primary and secondary gender characteristics.  It was like any kind of mass of creature, it was uncomfortable, a roiling movement that your stomach wished to emulate.  There was nothing sexual about it, it was like bugs of some sort.  Lights were on inside the house, and the sounds of slapping and slipping were like an uncomfortable applause.

The negotiator took a few steps towards the porch, just drinking in the scene.

“She said you are welcome to fetch your date.” Matana said.  Her eyes were still dark, still glossy, but that change in her had receded.

“Just me?” I looked at Ed.  He had turned around, trying not to be sick.  Maggie was watching with her detached, professional look.  She shook her head.

“Just her,” Matana said.

“There are others within?” I asked.

“What, are you some kind of knight all of a sudden?  Save what you can, who you can.”

“It’s not right.  Where’s the Overseer?”

“We weren’t talking to it.”  Matana shrugged.

“It probably won’t reveal itself until you’re deep within its lair,”  Ed had backed up a little to join our conversation. “It’s how they get you to fight the boss by yourself.  How can you watch that?”

“It’s so much my brain just doesn’t focus on the individual details.  It’s a mass, a morass of…”

Ed made a rude rhyme that made me grin.

“Yeah, that.” I glanced at Magda.  “You have to admit, sex is pretty ridiculous in the first place.'”

“Bro, I thought I was willing to dress up like a clown if it got me somewhere good, but that… that’s not fun.”

“That’s why it isn’t human,” I said.

Matana nodded.  “E is correct.  Is that why you do what you do?” she asked me.

“It’s why I’m not going to be satisfied with just Sylvie.  That’s not human.”

“Of course, neither will be the boss,” Ed reminded me.

“She’s waiting for you,” Maggie said.  I almost jumped at her voice, like I expected her to be silent.  She used her unentwined hand to point, and then, as if noticing she still had her ward up, she collapsed it, wrapping the thread around her fingers with a practiced lack of concentration.  “You still say it isn’t a portal?”

I nodded, and glanced at Matana.  The only portal was the one her parasite pushed open and then allowed to close.  Is it still a parasite if you agree to it, or does that move it to symbiote?  No, it was using her, even if she got something back from it.  I doubt that they were mutually reliant on each other, but then again, I tried to make it a rule to avoid things with fangs. 

“You have to be the hero, don’t you?” Mags said softly.  Soft enough that I didn’t actually know if she said it aloud, or if it was some kind of magic she was working, but I heard it nevertheless.  It wasn’t free of the kind of judgments that had made the last few months of our relationship so stressful, but it did seem to release some kind of tension in that it had just a tint of humour to it, a kind of wry, “I told myself,” into the fray.

“No time like the present,” I said, and Ed frowned.  “Well, in as much as now is always the present I’m experiencing.  Or, um, something pithy and chronomatic.”

“That’s not a word,” Ed said.

“It’s like automatic, but it is played through by time,” I suggested.

“Neat concept, but still not buying it.  Look, is there… is there anything I can do to help?  I’m kind of stuck with this not believing overwhelmed feeling and it’s not really going away, but if you need someone to jump in and spray insecticide I can find… I could be a hero.  I like the idea of being a hero, but my guts are kind of trying to do these flips towards the bottom of my spine and that makes it hard to move.”

I laughed.  “You don’t have to explain it to me, Ed.  You’re an exterminator, not a wizard.”

“Are there classes you can take?  Because really, it’s looking like I need to moonlight or something to stay up with you guys.”  He was grinning.

“You notice the girls didn’t offer to go with me.  They’re closer to wizards than I am,” I pointed out.  Maggie grinned, but Matana didn’t like it.

“I cannot go,” she said.

“This may be one of those things a man’s gotta do when a man’s gotta do it.”

“I was actually going to get busy calling for back-up,” Maggie suggested.  “Hey, Ed.  You want to take Matana and go get your truck?  If E brings anyone out, they might need medical attention or just want to get out of here.”

“You know, get kidnapped by some deviant beasts from another dimension and hey, let’s go grab a cup of coffee now that we’re out?” I teased her.

“Possible, possible,” she said. 

“You’re letting Matana drive my rental?”

“You’re stalling.”

I took a deep breath and nodded.  Actually, the truth was, I had a guilty conscience.  Somewhere in the depths of my brain I was convinced that this was my fault.  I had made this happen. 

Of course, a little voice in my head said some of it was Maggie’s fault too.  I had to listen to the voice (because you can’t just stick your fingers in your brain and tell it to shut up) but I didn’t have to agree with it or act on it.  That’s what being a grown-up was all about, right?

Rhetorical question, I hoped.

I checked my pockets.  My libido.  My pulse.  Well, actually, I didn’t need to check my pulse because it was beating the drums in my head pretty loudly already.  Ed and Matana were driving off, while Mags was busy getting into a meditative pose or something.  She was emitting a pale sort of light again, but I wasn’t about to nickname her “the Human Flashlight.”  I could just be seeing auras after all. 

I take head trauma very seriously, so no jokes there. 

I walked up to the door, reminding myself that at least this time I wasn’t worried about spraining an ankle.  Tripping over flesh locked in some kind of pre-orgasmic loop, yes, but that’s a hazard of the profession. I guess.  This wasn’t supposed to be a full-time job.

“I am going in,” I said to the creature. 

She rolled over onto her back and spread her legs. “About time,” she muttered.  “Strip.”

I couldn’t help but laugh aloud, a sharp bark of surprised laughter from the gut.  I stepped past her, carefully, towards the door.   If it was locked, this whole situation could turn ugly.  But it wouldn’t be.  I remember being with Doloise, entering the skin of the place.  I remember thinking of the interactions between the physical and the metaphysical.

The creature rolled onto her front and watched me, curiously. 

The door was unlocked.  Good, because I would have hated to have to break a window.  I mean, here I was, completely unarmed and walking right back into the spider’s parlour.  My brain told me to fly away.  Instead, I opened the door.

“Hullo the house!” I called.  It was light inside – every lamp in the place was on.  Shades and window coverings were pulled over so the outside couldn’t be seen, which was just as well if you ask me.  How did they get electricity in here?  I was tempted to check my signal, and actually made a move towards my jacket pocket when a roared, “Get him!” came from behind the stairs and I was swarmed.

“Hey!”
“Wait!”
“Ow!”
“Hey!”
“Ow!”
“Wait!”

I think I ended up repeating that particular selection of words somewhere between five and fifteen times while I was pulled and pushed and rolled around the floor and beaten with various broom handles (wielded inexpertly), a heavy plumbing wrench (hurt but was too heavy for the person holding on to it to do any real damage), a dustpan (what?), and finally the heel of a shoe (I think it was from a pair of galoshes), and my hair pulled and my arms bruised before they decided I was either harmless or not the droid for which they were watching.

Yeah, not ending the sentence with a preposition kind of makes it lose its impact as a quote. My inner grammarian may have been quelled, but my geek flag was only partially unfurled.

Um, metaphorically speaking, of course. This was not a moment for words like “turgid,” after all.

“Now, now, that’s not very nice,” said a familiar voice. I slowly moved my arm from where it had been protecting my face. It made me let out another particularly manly grunt that didn’t in the slightest sound like a squeak or moan of pain.

The Shadow King kneeled next to me, looking me over carefully. “I’m sorry, they thought you were me.”

Since he looked like my evil twin, I grunted again at this. Not because I’d had the breath knocked out of me by, from looking, a few senior citizens, and a couple sorority girls.

Not Sylvia.

“You’re about to say that you couldn’t possibly imagine how that happened,” he pointed out. He was looking me over as if to assess the damage. I don’t know what he decided – if it was more or less to his liking.

“No, I think I kind of guessed,” I managed. You know, when the breath is knocked out of you it isn’t just as easy as opening your mouth and letting the air back in again or anything.

“That’s why I like you. You’re smart.” He hauled me to my feet in guise of offering me a hand.

I refrained from pointing out that that’s often been said about my rear. Because it has. And the rest of me ain’t dumb, either.

He grinned, whether it was because of my thoughts or just a general jovially conniving nature.

That’s probably too many adverbs, and not enough paranoia.

The Shadow King waved away the others, imperiously. “He is not the enemy,” he said. “Not the droid we’re looking for.” He didn’t care about grammar, either. “Stay vigilant. We have the bait.” He gestured towards a closed door.

“And it works,” he said to me, as the galoshes-wielding gentleman passed us. “Doesn’t it?”

“I can’t let you.” I reached for the words. I couldn’t let him use Sylvia as bait? I couldn’t let him do what he was doing to these people? I couldn’t let him steal my face, my life? I wasn’t quite sure where I was going with it, but he understood.

Of course.

“Come into my parlour,” he smiled. He waved at a sort of lounge-like area inside near the shared kitchen. The common room, darkened from the pull of shades and tables up against the windows.

I shook my head.

“Fly away little bird?” he offered, pointing to the door.

I sighed and adjusted my stance. If he knew my lines so well, he would have to know my body language.

“They’re immune. They’re irresistable for being immune to those irresistable,” he said, as if it explained everything.

“Now you’re not making sense.” That was a bit of a lie. I had a bad feeling I knew what he was saying. Since it was ridiculous to lie to something that’s shared a bit of your head, I didn’t consider it a real falsehood.

“Something’s been done to them,” he waved in the direction of the household’s residents as they took up their various positions. “They’re immune to the…” he chose a word, “… seductors. Probably also immune to a number of beasts who rely on that particular technique. I eavesdropped enough to know you’ve spoken with one of the more predatorial.”

“A vampire?” I guessed.

“That’s your word for it,” he agreed. “They make these… seductors uncomfortable.”

“Crowding their niche?” I suggested.

He grinned again. “Probably.” He stretched a little and leaned against the doorway. “Your witch did this to the one upstairs, too.”

“She’s not my witch,” I said, almost automatically.

“Neither is the one upstairs, I think.” He smiled. “She gave me a warm welcome,” he insinuated with the quirk of an eyebrow. “But she’s too suspicious.”

I smiled this time. “She’s got wards, doesn’t she?”

His smile faded. It didn’t turn into an angry look, but it was definitely unpleased. “They are of no real concern. Do you know anything of the factions of the creatures who have swarmed this place?” He changed the subject, which was a particularly human thing to do. I noted it because I didn’t think it fit the, I don’t know, characterization, maybe? of a Power. A Force. A demi-divinity.

“No,” I said. I’ve mentioned it before – sometimes admitting to not knowing something gets you learned. Um, in all the ways that might be interpreted.

“Pity. I should leave you in ignorance.” He moved towards the window and pulled the shade back to look outside.

I decided to take the route of pretending to have patience. Sylvia wouldn’t be distressed, but not in any real danger. I needed more information. Of course, the Shadow King outwaited the fey. Given that pixies were more hyper than ferrets on double espressos (what can you say with a diet of mostly sugar?) that may not be as much of a concern as it seemed, but it did suggest that he had no pressing business.

Well and good. I found a chair to sit down in, and sat. I think twiddling your thumbs is when you do that roundabout thing where you move them back and forth against each other, but I’ve never been to twiddling school or anything. I lost most of the thumb wars I was in – my little sister was a cheat, I think. I waited.

Time passed.