Witch Hunt

I limp out on a possibly broken leg, pain shooting in waves from my ankle. We pass through the threshold of the box office, and I hurriedly pour a healing potion down my throat.

The three of us filter out into the sunlight, followed by a confused crowd, not nearly as panicked as I'd have expected. One man says behind us, "I thought that was a rather fascinating performance!"

Audiences... I wipe my mouth off the healing liquid, and already my ankle feels better.

Better than I'd have thought, in fact. The pain subsides so quickly, I don't even need the support anymore. And with a start I realize how heavily I'm leaning into Alabastra. I slide out from under her in a harsh jerk.

She doesn't seem to notice, or mind. Instead she peels the streets, looking frantically at every corner. "Fuck. Fuck!", she yells. Several in the crowd turn to her to spectate the mad woman.

Faylie looks up. "Please don't tell me that was...", she starts, more stressed than I've perhaps ever heard her.

Alabastra only nods in response, lips pursed in worry. She looks over the crowd again. "If we can spot those fuckers that were chasin' her, we might catch up. C'mon."

Then that monstrosity truly was Tegan; that's what she'd been hiding, all this time. A sick and sour feeling drips down from my brain to my spine. Yet another thing they kept from me; it truly never stops. I cross my arms and refuse to follow behind the half-elf as she goes.

She turns back to me in a double-take. "Os, let's go, we have to catch her." Still I don't move. She sighs, seeming to read the implication behind my hesitation. "Look, I- we can explain when we find her, just please, she's alone out there!" She starts to choke up. At least this time I can believe the voice cracks in her throat are real.

I deadpan, "Do we have what we need? Did you find anything from searching Demetrix's belongings?"

"What?!", she says. She calms herself, breathing hard once. "Yes, I found something. We don't have to swing back through here, I know where we're headin' next."

"Then we're going back to The Other Side to let the Gloamwoods know, so I can be done with this."

The rogue stares at me, eyes growing horrified, jaw locked in anger. "Oscar. What the fuck is wrong with you?" She points back behind her in a huff. "This is Tegan we're talking about! Tegan! Your friend, Tegan! The same Tegan that fucked up your what's-his-face roommate for you? The Tegan who's always risking everything for the ones she loves, who would drop it all and come runnin' if it was you - that fuckin' Tegan! I don't care how fucking angry at me you are - you do not get to talk about her like she doesn't matter!"

I back away, my chest tightening when I see the angry balls of fists she's curled at her sides. And my head splinters in pain, distracting me from the still-healing sting at my ankle. Pain like cracking fissures in the earth, shooting steam funnels of agony over the landscape of my mind. The throb grows so great that my vision starts to blur, I feel growing spot of blinding white at the edge of my sight. What is wrong with me?

Alabastra turns back around, saying over her shoulder, cold and shaken with distress, "Follow or don't, but you're not gettin' your info 'til we find her. C'mon, Bug." The two start moving again, and... the conflict resolves into focus once more. For better or worse, I'm stuck following behind until I get the information. There is never any guarantee the Gloamwoods won't take the watch as collateral... whatever else occurs, that cannot happen.

We filter out into the streets, observing the let-out crowd of the emptying theatre. Faylie says, "Seems like there's more commotion that way?" She points northward, though I imagine her to be guessing.

"Really hope you're right." She swings Faylie's satchel around her shoulder, borrowed for her costume change. Still in the rather revealing stage outfit, here in the light of day she looks borderline indecent. She digs through the bottomless bag and pulls free her boots, swapping them with the costume heels as she walks without stopping, clearly practiced at mid-motion redressing. All else she can do for now is throw her usual trench coat overtop the ensemble, and put her hair back up, creating an end result of a chaotic mishmash of her usual attire and the show uniform, like she emerged at random from a discarded laundry pile. She draws even more stares than usual, a mix of lecherous and confused, but the rogue is pure focus, eyes only on the crowd ahead, scanning for the chasing mob.

Faylie taps her fingers together as she walks. "It was... it was that actress", she says, unprompted. "She cast some kind of spell on her. Made her... Y'know."

She grunts. Then, she turns back to me. "What was the monster hunter doin' here?"

My eyes roll. "Apparently he'd decided to hunt the vampire responsible for Grace's attack." As I say that, I realize that the only way he could've known I was responsible at all is if Grace told him. If it weren't such a hassle to get into Firvus Heights, I'm nearly feeling petty enough to take umbrage with that. "He tracked Latchet through his blood, and your detective friend sold us out."

"Yeah, kinda expected him to. Why do you think I didn't tell him we broke into his office? Or about the watch? Guy's a weasel - lied through his teeth about not telling the Serrones anything." Some friends she's gathered. She rolls her shoulders. "Vail gonna keep bein' a problem?"

"Undoubtedly." Not that I want her help, of course.

Faylie slows, unsure steps causing her to fall behind. "Should we, like, do something about that, Allie?"

Steadfast as a train on rails, Alabastra doesn't respond; she only maneuvers through the sea of peoples, accelerating ever-forward. Finally, she slows, motioning with a head nod. "There." Ahead, several men pile into a group, taking off further north, towards the Riverwalk. They don't look particularly dangerous, just a mixture of curious and spiteful, chasing after the transformed oddity.

Following their trail, we reach Bassarin River. A rippling stream of green-blue water, one third-mile wide, spilled out from a place and plane that is not ours. The otherworldly-sourced waters churn into a slow current, path curved into gently twisting bends, seeming to carry the city itself along, pulling south and out and away, into distant horizons, and eventually the sea. Several massive bridges connect over the waters, struck in perfect place by self-tensed cables, suspended and sprawling, sinew over flowing lifeblood veins. Paddle and steam ships pass overtop the waves, gently floating paths carved in retrospect, leaving large trails of disturbed ripples in their wake.

Along the side of the river, lower from the lifted streets, sit manmade shores of brick embankments, planted trees and hedges lining the sides. The Nivannen Riverwalk zips along the side of the flowing waters, its own current of mortal movement faster than its mirrored tides. Shops and stands and restaurants atop the brickwork create a second tier of city life on par with the streets above it. Leisure-seeking cafe patrons drink and chat and mingle under non-native palm trees and colorful umbrellas, though their days seem disrupted by the commotion above them. Surely they gossip about the lycanthrope rumored to be rampaging.

As we approach the stairs down the Riverwalk, I recall the old tales of vampires melting in moving bodies of water. No telling if I managed to pick up that little quirk, and combined with my inability to swim at all... I stick close to the wall, and find myself thankful for the railing.

Tiny river veins flowing from sewer grates or waterworks-enabled artificial branches reconnect with the mother stream, twisting and turning into tunnels, under small bridges, breaking the walk up into chunks connected by arches. Stragglers or curious joiners-on of the mob we follow turn a corner toward one of these breaks, meeting a large concrete tunnel opening, unsealed to the world by an iron grate pulled apart by force. It's not a sewer through the other side... more natural-looking, if anything... a cavern. As the mob flocks, they number about a dozen or two, and seem to be debating whether to go in.

Alabastra sticks close the wall, eyeing them. "They can't find her. We gotta get rid of these yahoos." Certainly they'd perish under her claws if they did. "You got any steam in the engine, Firefly?"

The faun shakes her head. "I'm still pretty beat from this morning. I could do some basic stuff, but that only really helps if we're fighting them. Which seems like a bad idea." Now is a strange time to have acquired an allergy for bad ideas.

Breathing in the river-vapored air, Alabastra analyzes like a war general. "I could try and spin a yarn for 'em, but I don't think they're gonna buy anything I got up my sleeve, and I'm not exactly lookin' to get harassed in this getup." She pulls into herself, suddenly struck with doubt. "Maybe we could trick 'em. Show 'em they're bitin' more than they can chew."

"I don't have any illusions", Faylie says.

She smiles. "Ain't ya heard of practical effects, Bug?" She turns to me. "How 'bout it, Oscar? Anything in that bag of tricks?"

My eyes roll. "Even if I did, why would I help? You're the one insisting on this." Despite the ringing in my ears, I stare down at her, refusing to break contact.

Her rouged lips draw a tight line across her face, underlining her darkened eyes with pulled-inward fury. And then, without further preamble, she whistles a familiar ballgame theme.

Does she intend to sic the raven on the angry mob? Easily her worst idea yet, but at least I might get to see a poached bird today. It isn't long before the black wings of Paella swoop down from the upper streets, circling, and then diving... right for me.

The feathers sweep over my face in a winged flurry, and I swing my arms out wildly to bat it away, to no avail. The talons start to pull at the edges of my coat, and I hear a tearing sound along my collar. My vision is nothing but feral corvid, an incensed cavalcade like an entire unkindness descended upon me.

My yelps of distress and pitiful flailing finally cause the bird to back away, flying off above us once more, still circling. With panicked breathing, I spin on a dime, wroth painted upon me like a bucket splattered against a wall. And to my surprise, in the commotion, the rogue swiped my alchemy bag from me, and now digs through it. Bastard! I march toward her, only for Faylie to step between, arms outstretched.

"How dare you", I seethe.

If she even heard me, Alabastra doesn't seem to care at all. With one hand, she issues a thumbs-up to toward the sky-bound rodent, and with the other she pulls out the second of the two invisibility potions I'd managed to concoct, as well as a handful of ignition powder. She downs the potion, disappearing from sight. My bag is left discarded on the floor, and I scramble past Tegan to pick it up, clutching it tight to my chest like a lost doll.

A moment passes, and a massive BANG sounds from the cavern entrance in echoed cacophony. The crowd scatters in an instant, rushing away in a panic, scrambling from the faux-explosion. They run past us, dispersed. Alabastra appears once more, standing with a hand to her hip in the cavern entrance, and wordlessly ushers us forward.

She doesn't even look me in the eye.

* * *

Whatever cave we've found ourselves in, unlike the sewers we've trawled through before, this was clearly here long before the city. A natural cave, with moss growing on the stone walls, and a small stream runs to our side, out to the grate entrance behind us. Faylie banishes the darkness with a small light glowing in her palm like a gentle candle, the meagerest spell she's capable of casting in her state.

And through the mud at the side of the stream, massive wolf tracks dig their way westward.

The two thieves are eerily silent, walking side-by-side ahead of me, occasionally casting glances to each other, but never my direction. Their hands lace together as they venture into the dark, while I stick to the edge of the mage's light, dipping in and out of shadow with each step made out-of-tune.

Finally, I feel from them everything I've strived for: frozen, icy coldness. Not like a winter storm, blazing blizzard of raging emotion, but crystal, glacial, uncrossable calm. We have made each other numb. The bitter disgust in my heart rots in poison delight at the realization. To think, I used to worry that I'd make them worse. Now, it feels like a prophecy fulfilled, a destiny claimed. Finally, something I am a natural at, with no learned movements or motions, no hours spent in libraries, no hard-won, failure-driven lessons. Only raw talent: for ruining people.

Before long, the scenery changes. The lazy stream finds its source in a pool of still and clear water. Small crystalline rocks in the ceiling, along the bottom of the pool, and faintly in the walls creates a starry night of a cavern, constellations hewn of glittering stone. The natural beauty of the scene is marred by left-behind trash, cans and boxes, an old leather shoe, a rusted metal barrel: the ugly little signs of a lack of caretaking. Whatever this cavern has been used for, if used at all, it has clearly been forgotten.

And crouched over the edge of the clear-water cave pond, the hunched and massive form of a lycanthrope heaves with adrenaline. Fur-covered muscles wax and wane with heavy breaths, an arched back curled forward.  One ear perks in twitching recognition, and the form turns, lowercase-L lupine eyes glowing yellow in the near-dark. I quickly glance around the rest of the cavern. There's no other exits but the entrance we've taken; we've cornered an animal. Suddenly I stand up a little straighter, more alert. Alabastra had better know what she's doing.

She steps forward, as confident as ever. "Hiya, Dusty." She has no idea what's she doing.

Tegan crouches lower, snarling in panic, teeth bared in offensive-defense. A watch-wrought memory strikes me.

'And these... other cases, are they also experiencing blackouts? Violent yearnings? Involuntary activities and subsequent amnesic gaps?'

'Uhhh... No, not really, sorta kinda, and... no again?'

Assuming that hasn't changed, then the knight is still aware in there. Though, how in control of her faculties she is remains to be seen.

She draws her claws back, digging into the ground, nowhere further to back up. Her eyes dart, peeled back lids like a horrified dog, ready to bite.

Alabastra takes a step forward. "I don't know what that bitch did, but I know you can hear me, Tegan. I know you're scared." Her voice takes a consoling tone, like she's talking her off the edge of a cliff. "You're not in danger. I promise. I'm right here."

The werewolf's head thrashes about. She pulls fresh soil from the cavern ground and flings it forward. The mud and muck splatter across Alabastra, who crosses her arms in defense, then lowers them again into a surrendering pose.

She takes another step. "You can't scare me away, hon. I'm not goin' anywhere." Behind her, Faylie steps forward, too. "We're not going anywhere."

Faylie adds in, "I know this is bizarre, Teags, but honestly did you really think we were just gonna let you be alone through this? You're not the only one who can make promises, you know."

Tegan wraps her claws around her head.

Alabastra continues, "I get why you ran, sweetheart, I do. But you couldn't hurt us if you wanted. So you can sputter like a broke engine about it in that way that drives me nuts when this is all over." She takes another step forward, only a few feet from her now. "But you always get back up again. For me." She reaches the werewolf, Faylie right behind her. "So I swear I won't stop, either. And I am sorry that I'm such a mess. And I can't promise I'm never gonna fuck up again. But I hate disappointing you. I hate seeing you so conflicted. And Gods do I hate not being able to touch you. So-"

A slow-approaching hand reaches out across the gap. Tegan flinches, like the weight of her lover's touch has a magnetic push, but she does not bolt. Her fingers brush against the side of her torso, exploring the fur, scratching gently at the skin underneath. And then all at once, she rushes forward, and wraps her arms around the lycanthrope. Their embrace becomes triumvirate as Faylie rockets in, significantly shorter than both and barely reaching either of their mid-backs, but planting herself firmly in her grip all the same. Tegan looks up, eyes wide, and her lower wolven jaw starts to quiver, a small whimper escaping her.

Face sideways along the transformed woman's chest, Alabastra speaks, "So no more of that. I'm crazy about you, no matter what you look like. Even like this... Maybe even especially like this." She looks up into the werewolf's eyes. "My knight in shining armor. I love every part of you. Come back to me."

Muffled, Faylie adds, "You're our big beautiful goof, and we love you so, so, so much."

Shaking but defiant through fear, Tegan's claws wrap around the two women, and she buries her head into the crook of Alabastra's neck, feral weeping snarls creating a mess of her jacket. Slowly, the hulking beast starts to shrink down in size, fur receding, claws retracting, leaving behind only the form of Tegan, in all the human layers of her muscle and fat, tattered tabard and clothes hanging off her in scrapped heaps. The knight is back to normal.

Mostly.

Behind the back of the reunited lover, a swooshing bit of fur swings back and forth. And atop her head, colored much the same and blended into her short hair, two canine ears flop over, folded in. Whatever was done to her by the actress, it seems to have had lasting consequences.

Faylie is the first to notice, hand brushing against the base of the tail. Tegan's eyes shoot open, a blush forming on her cheeks. "Uh-um...", she starts.

Alabastra looks down, and notices her girlfriend's newly-acquired aural appendages. She lets out a disbelieving little laugh. "Oh, hun..." She reaches up, and gently caresses the fresh ear between two gentle fingers.

The knight's entire face is lit now like a hot iron. "O-oh... Uh... I don't... know how to get rid of that-"

"Never", the blonde says, quickly. "Don't even think about it. You're gorgeous."

The knight's dark grey eyes cast over like rain clouds. "But what about..." Her tail stops swinging so wildly.

"Fuck them." Her playful hand drifts down to the human woman's cheek, cupped in pure adoration. "I want you to be proud of you, babe."

"Uh... I'll... I'll think about it, but..." Her ears perk, pointed to the roof of the cave in twin pyramids of joy. "I think I'd like that."

The rogue, as she is wont to do, steals from her knight a kiss, pulling the woman in like a wanderer desperate for water. She drinks deep of her, and the second she pulls free again, the faun does the same. Soon the three are swapping affections back-and-forth in an accidental yet picture-perfect harmony.

And all the while, all I can do is sit and watch. With each passing second, my gut twists and turns, again and again. I can't look away... just watching the way they interact in wretched resentment. An inexplicable, unexplainable shock of pain and disgusting, indecent want sends me dizzy, like virile adder's spit in my veins. There's almost a comfort in the burning lament, a confirmation of what I'm cursed to never have. A cold, desolate dagger dancing across my gut; pain is an old, old friend, and it knows when that hurt is deserved.

Finally the three notice me, and cease their saccharine display.

Tegan taps both of their shoulders, and walks forward. "I, uh. Sorry, Bromley. That I didn't tell you earlier. It's a whole thing... I was-"

"I don't care." It's just another secret I was lied to. I cannot bring myself to ask about the specifics... it doesn't matter. Nothing can justify their endless lies to me, anymore. "Don't bother."

These wolf features are almost wasted on Tegan, and I don't just think that because of the sickening reminder they bring. She was already the most obvious of the three, the easiest to read. The added confirmation of sincerity from her tucked tail and bent ears is barely necessary. "I-uh. Al-alright."

The three stare at me a moment, until I'm forced to turn away from their glances, stuck with their guilt and pity and disgust. And my head is swimming with pain.

When the moment has firmly died, Faylie asks, "What happened on that stage, anyways?"

Tegan shrugs. "I... thought I might try and find, like. Common ground. I told her I was a w-uh, uh. That. And she- she freaked out. Cast that spell on me, and... it was like... that night all over again. Ugh. We'll talk about it more once we're out of here." She drags her hands over her face, then down to her bare arms, and shivers in the cold cavern air. "You pick up my armor, Allie?"

Alabastra nods, then turns to me. She whistles once, spinning her finger in the air, to indicate that I turn around, then looks back to her lover. "Gonna get outta this outfit, too, while you're puttin' yourself together."

"Might as well burn it while we're at it..."

"Oh, no. I see how it drives you crazy, Dusty. I'm keepin' it."

Bitter, I turn around, arms crossed, tapping my feet into the stone floor. As I hear the clatter of armor being strapped back on behind me, I say, "The information. What'd you learn?"

The sickly sweet tone Alabastra had been carrying drains from her as she addresses me. "Found a couple things. One of 'em was a poster, with some interesting details. Little Ms. Demetrix is speakin' tomorrow at the Devil's Night festival in Medi Park." Devil's Night... It's the end of Octobrea already? I suppose time flies. "And whaddaya know: one Lyla Serrone will be there, too. Some kinda moral crusade rally, organized by the Lupine Party, to break up the fun."

Faylie gasps. "Ah! I thought we wouldn't have the time to go to the festival! This is the best! We've gotta get costumes!"

I roll my eyes. That isn't even worth a mention. That is at least a solid connection point, finally. It isn't terribly much to go on, but it is evidence. Hopefully, it will suffice enough for the Gloamwood Gang to take it from there, and I can be done with this. "And the other piece of evidence?", I ask.

The rogue says, "Some weird crystal. No idea what it is or does. Hopin' Ms. Robeno will know more."

"Then let's go."

Alabastra walks past me, changed fully back into her usual garb, pulling her scarf around her neck. "For the record... sorry. That I took your stuff. I'll even reimburse ya, if ya want." She doesn't look back as she continues on, her partners in tow, one freshly adorned in canine extremities. "Even if you're not sorry for any of this mess. I am. I just hope you know who you're pissed off at. Because I'm honestly not sure you do anymore."

The faun lights a path, casting a light that leaves me in the glinting dark of the cave end. For a moment, I do not follow, only staring darkly into their backs.

As if I have anything to be sorry for.

* * *

As we exit the tunnel, an awaiting crowd of onlookers has reformed to gawk at the cavern of oddities. The three already discussed their plans for this eventuality on our way out, and begin their little fabrication.

They don't need the crowd to believe any of their fanciful stories; just doubt long enough to let us leave. With Tegan in her helmet, Alabastra spins a tale of monster hunting, ensuring the public that the werewolf in the cave has been dispatched, and she must at once collect her 'hunting partner' Vail from the theatre. She tells the citizens that the explosion was 'werewolf magic', whatever that could possibly mean.

I roll my eyes as they spin their lies out before the dumbstruck pedestrians, who are too full of spectacle to question the half-elf's unshakeable confidence. Unrepentant liars and thieves, always with a slick escape. At some point in their crowd swindling, I just yearn for it to end. I need to be away from here already.

Tick.

I blink, and I'm suddenly sitting in a booth seat on the skyway, the others the opposite end of the cart. A pair of elderly gentlemen sit across from me, each reading a copy of the Acta, and the interior of the tram is stocked with life. The lights of the city start to switch on below us, as the afternoon sun winds itself down to take its final bow.

I should be curious, shouldn't I? About this ability of the watch's? About the watch in general? I'd think so, and yet, it's like I've opened an encyclopedia, but I cannot read any of the words. Like the pages themselves are blank.

And that's not all I'd have thought I'd have wanted to know: Tegan's lycanthropy, the method by which Alabastra coaxed her from her state. Yet every inquiry with which I might begin to pierce the veil turns flaccid in my hands, needles of grass instead of steel, bent against that which a question should perforate. I'd thought myself ambitionless before, but now...

I simply don't care. I can't care... About this... about anything.

And why should I? These issues don't concern me, of course. It never mattered, I already have everything that matters.

The sundering pain in my skull throbs once more, and I want it all to be finished already. This ache. This affair. This ride.

Tick.

Once more, I'm somewhere else. My legs briefly threaten to trip out from under me, as I'm walking now. Sunset enraptures the sky, burning golden hues into pink clouds. Paella circles above us, now no less than an implicit threat to me. The thieves laugh to each other, as we dart down a less-trodden street at the outer edge of The Reds. The wider countryside beyond the limits of the city kiss the horizon in forested hills, choked with farmland, always pulled inward to the nucleus center of the colossal capital it encircles.

The thieves laugh amongst themselves, closer to each other than any other living souls, and separate from myself. As it always should have been. Their arms lock with each other's arms, as the tallest and shortest dote over the new canine parts of their third. Their devotion shines brighter than the setting sun, louder than the stares of the curious and disgusted, testament to their shared virtue in love.

They laugh, and they laugh, and I hate them. I fucking hate them. I can't care about anything else, but that. My loathing is a deep and drowning ocean, waves churned miles high to swallow whole every other thought. They've turned me from an empty space, to the void that light falls into and can't escape. I despise what they've done. They've ruined me. And now they won't even have the good grace to get out of the fucking way. If that's how it's going to be, I'll take us all down. Pull us into nothing. I hope they feel a fraction of this hurt. I hope it stings forever. I hope they hate me until the stars burns out.

I hope we all bleed each other dry.

The thieves laugh like there isn't a care in the world, and I just. Wish. They'd stop.

Tick.

* * *

We stand in the office of Antitia Robeno, other side of The Other Side. Passing through the ephemeral barrier was a strange experience; all it took was knowing it was there, and suddenly, the street we'd been standing on gave way to another world.

Antitia herself stands at the opposite side of the desk, hands curled around herself. She wears a dress that seems to drape off her like a bird's feather, in multicolored layers of sparkling silks. Beside her, Forrest the werebear necromancer stands hunched over, dopey ursine eyes laxly passing over us.

Antitia is the first to speak. "Well, assumin' you didn't come here to yammer, which I wouldn't put past you lot, mayhaps you've got what we're lookin' for?"

Alabastra steps forward from the line we've arranged ourselves in. "I mean...", she starts, "Kinda?" She shrugs.

The fae woman stares at her blankly, shining eyes somehow looking duller. "I sincerely hope you're jokin'."

She chooses her next words carefully. "We... don't have a source for why this is happening, city-wide n' all, but we did run into someone who might have somethin' to do with all this. Maybe even two someones, actually."

Faylie adds, "And the second one transformed our girlfriend with some stupid storm spell! Not okay!"

Tegan's flapping tail is all the explanation of the particulars of that transformation that the fae woman needs. "I see..." She looks back up at the knight's face. "But you're feelin' regular now, honey? Ain't got the madness?"

The knight shakes her head. "N-no, uh, miss. Ma'am. Um..." She gathers herself, speaking next with her eyes closed, perhaps to ward out distraction. "She hit me with that spell and it... it was just like the first time. There were these ideas suddenly in my head, and they were weirdly... personal? Telling me that I'm... just an animal. Like... all of my instincts were on edge at once."

I lift a brow. Were the dark thing within me not already gone I'd nearly be interested to compare... but it doesn't matter anymore. My eyes dart away from Tegan before I develop an interest in this.

Antitia holds up a finger to stop her. "The first time?", she questions, clearly believe she's caught a truth on the line.

Alabastra says, "What kicked this off on our end. Dusty here up n' transformed on us in the middle of dinner. It's a long story, but... we kinda had no idea at the time. She told us transformin' at all should've been impossible for her - and it wasn't even a full moon." She bites the side of her lip as she continues, "Thought it was just a fluke... until we started hearin' 'bout other cases."

"Then why ain't ya transformed again?", the fae asks.

Tegan says, "Honestly, beats me. But, both times, Allie and Faylie were there to talk me down, so... maybe it was just something they said? I'm not sure what exactly, but... at some point those feelings just kinda stopped?"

Despite myself, I can only shirk inward in bitter loathing. Of course, they'd conjure some solution that would work for Tegan. They'd move mountains for Tegan.

I consider attempting to skip this conversation, too, but think better. I don't want to miss anything that might yet concern me, my safety, or the safety of the Timekeeper most of all.

Antitia says to the rogue, "Any idea how exactly you managed that?"

Alabastra smiles wide. "Would you believe 'the power of love'?"

"No."

"Would you believe 'my unstoppable homosexual dynamism'?"

"Even less so." Antitia folds a hand over her forehead. "Hells, why did I ever think this would be a good idea..." I'm wondering the same thing.

Faylie says, "Don't knock it 'til ya try it, Auntie!"

"Honey, half our boys are already sleepin' with each other, and the other half write sonnets in their free time when they're not. This is a Fae outfit - if the answer was 'love', I think we'd know by now." She sighs, clearly exasperated. "Did you happen to pick up any other leads, at least?"

The rogue nods, and pulls a small flier from her pack. "We've got a possible suspect. Lyla Serrone, some kind of 'Gods-Blessed sorcerer', councilor's wife, yadda yadda. She kidnapped the detective, and she's invited the actress who knocked my favorite wolf off her rocker to some speech tomorrow, at the Devil's Night fair. Whether this is her own show, or the Lupines', hard to say... yet. But we gotcha a target." As the fae takes and reads over the flier, Alabastra stands in cross-armed confidence, smugly self-satisfied with her work.

The otherworldly woman smacks the page once, and says, "Well, it's something, anyways. Anythin' else?"

Alabastra nods, and produces something else from her bag. That crystal she'd mentioned in passing. It is a prism of blue rock, eight carved sides, pointed at the ends. And a small white light glows within, bouncing off the inner walls. If it weren't for that light, it'd almost remind me of... ah. Not important.

Looking over the piece of quartz, the fae says, "Hmm. It's a lockin' gem. Keeps a spell that would be temporary held in place."

"Oh, huh", Alabastra says, "I've actually heard of these... didn't think they'd be so clunky. Any idea what that spell might be?"

"Hard to say, unfortunately."

She tucks the crystal away. "I got a couple guesses at least. We'll keep it, then. Maybe use it like a bargaining chip, if nothin' else."

Antitia taps at the sides of her arms, considering for a moment. "Well, ain't exactly all the answers, but... I'd call that sufficient for your debts, at least."

Oh, thank the Gods, finally! The end is well and truly in sight!

Closing her eyes and lifting up her hands, Antitia Robeno issues a reversal of her fae pact.

"Promise kept, service ceased,
Now go forth; be released."

The thieves speak the pact into the ether as the fae directs like an orchestral composer. But as she finishes her chant, no compulsion to speak along with her wells in me, and coiled around the base of my soul, I still feel the curling serpent of Robeno's magic. I snarl toward her, "What?"

She rolls her head around to meet my eyes. "Now, honey, you honestly didn't think you were gettin' off the hook so easily, did ya?"

A sweep of righteous indignation swells through me. My fists curl, my shoulders square and I march straight up to the unfathomably powerful fae woman, and point a finger in her face. "Let. Me. Go."

"Or what? You're still under compulsion, honey. You're lucky I ain't puttin' you in a dress and havin' you dance the lindy hop on that stage down there."

My face flushes and blood runs to my ears, but when I try to summon the willpower to say anything else... nothing comes out, no matter how hard I try. Antitia only stares at me, conceited smile like a victor's badge growing by the second. Gods damned fae pacts. I back away in an embarrassed huff.

She continues, "The violence you caused is a stain on your record, but my niece assures me that ain't your fault. What was, however, was usin' poor Forrest's stock." She gestures to the werebear beside her.

Forrest, who has been quite up to this point, says, "That oil didn't come cheap."

I bite back at him, words returned to me, "It was certainly made cheap, you charlatan hack. Stick to corpses and honey." The werebear backs up, seemingly offended.

Antitia only laughs. "Oh, this one does have bite, don't they." She tilts her head. "We'll take into 'count your dissatisfaction."

Faylie bounds forward, grabbing at her aunt's scarf. "Auntie, that isn't fair. Oscar's... well, he's kinda been a jerk, but... he was really helpful during all this. I think he's paid enough."

The fae looks down to her niece, and the knowing smile of a Faewilds denizen strikes her. "You'll thank me for this later, Faylie dear." She looks back to me. "Tell ya' what, Oscar, check out this fair tomorrow, get the scoop on what this Serrone is doin', and we'll call it even. That sound like a deal to you?"

On the one hand... continuing this farce sounds like the last thing I want to do... but she is at least magnanimous enough to give an endpoint to this at all. She could twist the words of our contract to keep me indebted indefinitely, it that were truly her intent.

Before I can respond she continues, "Because... offer's still on the table to take that watch of yours as payment instead..."

I clutch the metal under my shirt, more priceless than anything in this entire city. "No. Fine. I'll do it."

"Attagirl."

My blood pressure spikes, and I try to raise a furious objection... but once again my words are robbed from me by the fae's magic. Immediately I start to stew in the blood pounding into my head, but the pain prevents me from processing anything else.

I'm left a twitching thing as the fae looks on, then turns back to the trio. "How 'bout the rest of ya? You don't owe me a thing anymore..."

Alabastra looks my way, brow raised, like she's going to say something. Then shakes her head as if a bad thought came her way, and turns back to the fae. "We're... probably gonna keep lookin' into this anyways. We're... invested." Great. I resolve to avoid them as much as I can, tomorrow.

"Well, good luck, then. We're done here. Feel free to come n' go as ya please... 'Specially if you're payin' customers."

The thread of conversation tied, everyone gets to their own business. Alabastra and Tegan strike up a hushed conversation with the fae, and Faylie rushes forward to talk with the bear lycanthrope.

I turn to leave, letting the conversation dull past the swinging shut door. Just one more day. Just one more day. I can do one more day...

Down the steps, across the street, and out the fog wall, I make my way home from the Other Side without so much as a word to anyone else.

* * *

I stare into an empty mirror.

I've always hated it. My reflection. The person on the other side of the glass was a stranger at the best of times. Sometimes, I would wish for this exact thing: the holy curse of the vampire, to not look upon themselves. On especially disconnected days, it seemed to me a blessing.

But now that it's actually gone... I suppose I feel empty, somehow. Emptier. Like something was taken from me. A future robbed. A chance to make it better.

Ngh. Not that I need to change... A ridiculous and mawkish thought. I have everything I need, and I couldn't even if I tried.

My head tilts down, and I feel the tail of my hair brush against my back. The hair I've been growing out ever since Mother- since Delia listened to my pleas when I broke down at the suggestion she cut it short again.

Tiny minutiae like haircuts and honorifics and memories, enough to send me spiraling. Pathetic. Worthless. If I am to live forever, it can't be like this.

I scratch at the pathetic beginnings of the shadow that's burgeoned from my face. It's prickly and disgusting, but men like Nathaniel Latchet revel in that space. Perhaps that's the kind of person I was supposed to be: repellent and contemptible. No one would make the mistake to ask Latchet for emotional opinions. No one would dare try to get close.

Perhaps I've put off the inevitable too long. Why am I making this harder on myself? Avoiding insignificant hurts to the detriment of living how I am expected to; I draw too much attention. I put myself at risk, standing out in my appearance, for no real tangible benefit. Unfathomably transparent. Even the fae woman had... made certain assertions. That cannot be repeated.

My earlier thoughts on my own cowardice were too self-flagellating. After all, cowards survive.

My craven fingers wrap around a pair of scissors. Partnered blades of metal, kept at the edge of my sink to trim split edges. Survival necessitates debasement.

The crook of the scissor edge meets the tail of hair, the weight of my locks pressing down on the bottom edge. There was I time I'd cherished these tresses, the only thing I liked about myself. My singular indulgence in appearance. How clear it is to me now: it was never about what I liked. A childish notion. These thoughts only hold me back.

It's supposed to hurt. It's supposed to hurt. It is supposed to hurt.

With one furious motion, I snip the tail off, feeling the weight lift from my head, a lonely, cold, empty lightness. And immediately I regret it. Dread fills me to the brim. But the second I have that thought, I drop the scissors on the ground, as the headache burns through me like a raging inferno, angrier than it ever was.

I stumble out of the bathroom, dizzy enough to nearly topple over. I can't even think. The pain is immense. Worse than any headache the hungers ever gave me. So much worse. My hands find the edge of my kitchen countertop, and for a while I simply stand there, wincing and writhing through the pain.

As my senses return to me, that enfeebling comfort of hair on my back is absent. The longest threads now barely scrape the shoulders.

Part of me is glad it isn't all gone... the headache returns again. I grip my forehead. Agh. Or maybe I should...

BANG BANG BANG

The sudden sound shakes me from my state.

Knocking on my front door. That had better not be who I think it is.

I collect myself, and march downstairs. Sure enough, Alabastra's eyes meet mine through the door window.

No. I turn around again.

BANG BANG BANG

When I'm halfway up the steps she keeps knocking. Gods, she doesn't give up. Fine. I return to the entrance, cracking it open to find the trio of thieves waiting on the other side. Where I might have expected self-satisfied smiles or annoying excitement, instead I'm met with dour faces, long and forlorn, staring off into corners like they've survived a boat sinking.

Alabastra looks down at me, and her gloomy eyes catch an upward draft of interest. She tilts her head. "You... cut your hair?"

I only answer with an uncomfortable arm-crossed shrug.

"It- I mean. If you like it that's fine, I just-"

"What do you want?", I interrupt. Already the buzz starts to build again. I just want to turn invisible... talking about literally anything else will have to suffice.

She starts and stops, second thoughts gating her words. "We, uh..." Her eyes squeeze shut, and she runs a hand over her head, battling some inner turmoil. Some furious specter tears out of her in a sigh. "We got evicted. Earlier than we thought."

"..." I stare out at the other two. They carry random bits and pieces of personal effects on their persons, whatever they could manage to carry, I imagine.

"Stopped by our place after the meetin' and found the door chained up. Jon even got fuckin' cops to watch over the place. They wanna auction off our shit unless we pay..." She places an enraged palm against the side of the doorframe, stabilizing herself against the torrent of emotions. "He went back on his fuckin' deal. We were supposed to have two more days..."

My eyes dart around, my head twisting, and I still don't know why. "You got tricked? I thought that was impossible. What happened to seeing lies?"

Alabastra huffs like a raging bull. "He wasn't lying when we made the deal. Fucker must've changed his mind - I can't see the future!" I stare through her. She looks everywhere but my eyes for a moment, before continuing with a sigh, "Look... I know I have no right to ask, but... it would just be for tonight."

She wants to use my shop like a hostel?! "Why come here? Why not go to Stilton, or the Other Side, or a motel, or anywhere else." A barbed thought snakes itself around my mind. To torment me.

"We definitely don't wanna owe Antitia anything else, we don't have the money for a motel room, and Stilton? We're supposed to be heroes down there. Protectors. If we come down there lookin' for help, people are less likely to trust us with their problems." She's worried about her credibility?! There's no bottom to this barrel. "You are our first and last choice, Os."

Before I can object, she continues, "I know that we are... not on the best of terms right now, but I still made you that promise, didn't I? That we'd clean your place up? Together? We can- we can get started on that tonight! And, we'll stay outta your hair, we'll take that third story, or the floors if we gotta. And we'll..." She searches for a moment, words lost in darkness. "We'll owe you. I'll owe you. More than I already do. Just... say the word, and we're on anything you want." Then, she has the audacity to venture a smile, hopeful and pathetic, with pleading eyes.

I stare at the three for a moment. Silence pulls us apart, the space between filled with the distant sounds of the city at night. They look more vulnerable in this moment than I've ever seen them. If I could believe them, and some part of my that's refused to die so desperately wants to believe them, I might acquiesce. I wish I could. I nearly do.

But despite her jovial demeanor, Alabastra Camin is a hardened criminal. There isn't a chance they aren't lying.

"Leave."

Her face drops. Realization moves slow across her, sinking through saturated layers of self-delusion. She swallows her pride with a physical gulp. "Okay." She nods once, knocking her forehead into the back of her hand, pulled into a fist. Still, she doesn't go. "I... I understand. I just thought... Oscar, if whatever friendship we had really is gone, can't we at least... fuck, I don't know. I don't wanna leave things like this, and-"

"Do you require a dictionary? Vacate. Abscond yourselves. Get. Lost."

She shuts up, and snarls. Finally, she angry at me, in a way she can't reconcile away. Maybe this is the one that sticks. "I heard you", she says, voice like a guillotine, severing her mirth from her mouth. The little quiver at the back of her throat doesn't convince me. "We're going."

And without another word, she turns back to her partners, arms over their shoulders. I slam the door, and spy them through the window. Tegan doesn't bother looking back, but her ears point back in rage. Faylie spares one turn, and unquestionable heartbreak crashes into me from the horrified look in her eye.

Synaptic knives stab into my cortex. Acres of gardens of briars twist themselves in thorned knots. It falls short of the void, ripping apart the edges and widening that sucking pit of hatred. The worst parts of myself are forced open like the gates of the Hells, and burnt in agony for the unkind need.

I brace myself against a shelf in the shop, but it does nothing for the ungodsly pain. I collapse on the cold floor, holding my head and writhing inside myself, beating at the walls of my mind and begging it to stop.

And a thousand, thousand ghosts crawl up my spine-

'You won't hurt anyone that doesn't deserve it while you're with us.'

'Don't shoot! I'm right here!'

'You weren't kiddin' about those violent thoughts, huh?'

'He's a... a monster.'

'Shame it took a monster hunt to see you out again.'

'Despite it all, we can't stop ourselves from caring.'

'It represents, umm, hopelessness? Being paralyzed by fear, feeling trapped?'

'I was hopin' you'd say that!'

'I can't believe how selfish you're being.'

'I've, like... got your back!'

'We need you. I need you.'

'A very troubled one at that.'

'I think Marlowe's perfect.'

'Not that ya need one, of course, but...'

'Get out of your own head.'

'It's just a disguise, remember?'

'Did any of it mean anything to you?'

-until the darkness takes me.