Pacific NorthWitch 08

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You are a three dimensional creature. All life around you is. Our bodies exist on three axises. A two dimensional creature, then, would exist on two axises, like on a piece of paper. They could only move forward and backwards, left or right, or any combination of those. But if you were to draw a box around them, they’d be trapped. To use three-ders, it would be hard to understand why the twosie on the paper would allow themselves to be jailed by a simple box. Why not step over the boundaries?

Look at the walls around you, three-der. Why are you constrained by the walls? Why do you allow doors to only open to the space next to the one you currently occupy? Why not simply go where you want to go?

Magic isn’t a force of our dimension. Not really. Dimensions are the cage that magic does not understand. Why exist in the cage when you can be, like, not? Just don’t be in the cage.

Z tried to explain this to Elliot, but Elliot caught on pretty quickly when the door to the boring house on Beacon Hill opened to a mansion on Vashon Island. She was suddenly a five dimensional creature (a five-em if you must know) making a fool of the laws of physics.

It was better than the air screaming at her.

Z ushered her into the house. “Hey guys, we’re here!” She took off her coat and wandered into the kitchen, draping her coat over a kitchen chair. “Are you hungry at all? I bet Gimble has a batch of cookies around here somewhere.”

“I’m okay,” Elliot said softly. She looked around the house. Wood floors and pristine walls, nice furniture to go with with everything. Elliot didn’t have the words for how nice things were, and frankly it kind of pissed her off. But it was nice. Quiet, but Elliot figured there was magic involved in that.

Elliot looked outside, over a nice vegetable garden and a beautiful lawn. She could make out a fire pit and some standing stones.

“That’s our ritual space,” Z said, following Elliot’s gaze. “When we need to get our magical shit right, that’s where we go.”

“Are they, like, sexy rituals?” Elliot asked softly.

“As sexy as you want them to be,” Z said, putting a little smarm on her voice.

“Is zero an option?”

“Zero is always an option,” Z said.

Elliot nodded. She didn’t know what to say.

Z patted her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. Gimble has a nice library and a fantastic record collection.” She took Elliot’s hand and led her up some goddamn nice steps to just a fucking perfect media room. There were comfy looking seats everywhere, even the classiest beanbag chairs Elliot had ever seen. She fell into their gravity. Z smiled and joined her, closer than for just being friendly. Elliot didn’t care at that moment. She just wanted to calm down.

“Bi-locating,” Z finally said.

“What?”

“That’s what the nerd was doing. Magic.”

Elliot’s ears perked. “You think so?”

Z nodded. Elliot could feel her head close to hers. “It’s really hard to do without it, unless you have a twin. I don’t think he does.”

“So he’s a witch?” Elliot asked.

Z was quiet for a moment. “No, I think he’s something else.”

Elliot sat up in her chair. “You mean that there’s more than just witches??”

“I hadn’t thought so. Maybe he’s a warlock, but… this is going to sound crazy, but that didn’t feel like witchcraft.”

Elliot lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess you can tell, huh?”

“What did it feel like to you?” Z asked.

Elliot closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and thought about being back there. She thought about how the space felt different when she knew he was there. And when she saw the twin, how things felt even stranger.

“It feels like the marker board in my fifth grade class.”

“YEAH,” Z said. “Like… structure.”

“Like a lot of structure,” Elliot agreed.

Z thought a moment. “What does my magic feel like?”

Elliot groaned. “Do you flirt with everyone in your group?”

Z let out a little laugh. “Yeah. But it’s because I love them.”

Elliot nodded. “That’s… nice. I guess.” There was another question that lingered. Elliot put it away — she didn’t want to deal with it now, nor did she care. Not that much. She let her eyes wander to the records that lined the walls. Gimble really did have an impressive collection.

“Want to listen to anything?” Z asked. When Elliot didn’t answer, Z said, as if to the room, “How about some Miles Davis?”

Elliot watched a record album slide out from the wall, the record separate from the sleeve, and drop onto a turntable. The tone arm swung out and dropped on the record, and music started playing.

“Cute,” Elliot said. “How long did it take you to remember where the record was?”

“That wasn’t me,” Z said.

Something moved in the corner of Elliot’s vision. Before she knew it, she was standing at the ritual circle, doubled over, panting.

A moment later Z bounded out of the house, running up to Elliot. “Hey!”

Elliot stumbled back. “What’s in there?”

“It’s okay,” Z said, reaching out for her.

“WHAT’S IN THERE?” She swatted Z’s hand away and fell backwards, stumbling over a rock.

“Let me explain, please,” Z said. “I should have warned you.” She held out a hand for Elliot. Elliot stared at her, trying to catch her breath once again. She carefully took Z’s hand.

Back in the house, Z led Elliot up the steps to the media room. The record still played. Elliot clung to Z’s hand, trying to will her shaking away.

“Morgan?” Z said. In front of them, a shape materialized. She was fox, wearing some beaten up jeans and a t-shirt over a longer shirt. She had chin-length headfur that she covered with a beanie, and a crooked smile to really bring everything together.

“Hi,” she said sheepishly.

“This is Morgan,” Z said, motioning to the woman in front of them. “Morgan is a ghost.”

“Ah.” Elliot said.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to scare you.”

“Ah.” Elliot said.

“Ethan?” Z called. “Could you come here please?”

Another figure appeared next to Morgan. He was shorter than her, a cat in a hoodie that was too big for him and another pair of worse for wear jeans. His headfur was long, and fell in front of his eyes.

“Are you Elliot?”

“Ah.” Elliot said.

“These are the resident ghosts,” Z said. “The ONLY ghosts here. They’re very sweet and they like to help whenever they can.”

“Anything you need,” Morgan said. “If we’re around we’re happy to help.”

“Gimble allows us to stay in exchange for some chores being done,” Ethan said. “Dishes, vacuuming-”

“Warding off hexes and other maladies,” Morgan finished.

“Sorry we scared you,” Ethan said again.

Elliot nodded, holding her jaw shut tight.

“If it helps, we can be visible when you’re here,” Morgan said. “It’s no problem.”

“Please,” Elliot said, just above a whisper.

Morgan smiled. “Absolutely!”

“Uhm…” Ethan said. He tugged on Morgan’s sleeve. “It’d probably be best if we stuck to our room for a bit.”

Morgan nodded. “I think so. Bye, Elliot. We’re glad you’re here!”

“It was nice to meet you!” And the ghosts left the room.

Elliot stood rigid. Z looked at her with concern, her ears flat on her head.

“You poor thing,” she said softly. “What happened to you?”

Elliot gave her a sidelong stare but didn’t say anything.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Z said. She tugged on Elliot’s hand.

Elliot could feel her jaw start to tremble. She found one of the beanbag chairs and sank into it, tears flowing freely now. Z followed, sitting too close again, but Elliot didn’t mind. Z watched with concern, holding Elliot by the shoulders. Elliot fell into Z’s arms, and began to sob on her shoulder.

“Oh no, hey,” Z said. She hugged her close. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

“Too much is happening,” Elliot said. “It’s too much.”

“You’re okay,” Z said again. “You’re safe here.”

Elliot nodded. Z pulled her closer and Elliot closed her eyes, letting Z hold her.

“You don’t have to tell me, but one day I’d like to know what happened,” Z said. “I don’t want you to go through this again.”

Elliot nodded again. She took a few deep breaths and then said, “You’re getting your snuggles, though, huh?”

“I can stop if you want.”

“I didn’t say that,” Elliot said.

Z stroked Elliot’s ears back. “We got you,” she said.

“Just don’t get used to this,” Elliot said.

Z laughed. “We should all be so lucky to have an Elliot to snuggle with.”

“Hush.”

The last song on the record finished. The tone arm drifted to the middle of the turntable, lifted up and clicked back to its home.

[g]

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Pacific NorthWitch 07

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“I want to join the group.”

Elliot and Z sat on Z’s couch, watching reruns of old detective shows. They picked at the leftover Chinese. Z nearly dropped her box of noodles.

“YES! This is very good!” She set her food down on her coffee table. “What helped make up your mind?”

Elliot stared at the wall again. “In the past two days, I was attacked by a banshee, I found out witches were real and oh bee tee dubs, I’m a witch too and I always have been, a brogrammer started to stalk me and I think he can see through my magic, I harassed my roommate like I was a poltergeist, I lost my job, and just to like really wrap things up in a neat little package, I was hit on by a demon.”

“Whoa!” Z said. “A demon?”

“We met at coffee,” Elliot said. “Kind of a random meeting?”

“Were they hot?”

Elliot blushed. “Yeah, she was…”

Z laughed. “So you’ve had a lot on your mind.”

“The damn done burst.” Elliot looked down at her cold Chinese. “I’m drowning in it.”

Z nodded. She put her hand on Elliot’s shoulder. “We want to help. Tomorrow we can go meet Gimble. She’s eager to have a real meeting with you. She’s curious about what you can do.”

Elliot nodded. “And if I don’t pass the test?”

“There’s no test,” Z said. “Gimble just likes to have a running list of abilities going. It helps direct people to where they need to be.”

“What, like a witch dispatch? Are we like a weird 3-1-1 of the city?”

“When you dial 6-6-6 you get connected to the witchy help hotline. For hexes, press 2 now.”

Elliot let out a little laugh. “Does… does it have to be tomorrow? Can we go now?”

“I know you’re anxious. Gimble needs to clear her schedule and get herself into the right headspace. In the meantime, you have plenty of time to relax.”

“I should find a job, I guess…”

“Yeah, if you need to.” Z poked at her noodles. “I’d get on unemployment and enjoy the time off for a bit if I were you.”

Elliot raised her eyebrows and considered this.

“Are you excited?” Z asked. Elliot looked over at her. Z’s eyes shone in the low light of her apartment.

“I’m scared as hell,” she said.

Z beamed. “Don’t be. We’ve been waiting for you.”

“What if I fuck it up? What if I disappoint you?”

“Oh pish posh,” Z said. “You won’t.” She leaned over and hugged Elliot. Elliot hesitated, and reluctantly accepted the hug.

“Tomorrow,” Z started, “you can worry about all of that. But that’s tomorrow.”

Elliot nodded.

“Now, I need you to tell me everything about this demon. Did she have horns?”

Elliot laughed. “Yeah, like a ram.”

“Ooohhh. Did you smell them?”

“What? No! Don’t be weird!”

Z laughed. “You should go find her. Did she give you a number? Wait, can she use phones? How does that work?”

“She’s a bookseller in Pioneer Square.”

“Yeah, we’re going. Get your coat, I want to see this hot ass demon.” She stood and pulled on Elliot’s arm.

Elliot blushed furiously. “What??”

“She clearly likes you,” Z said.

“I don’t know…”

Z rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “I assure you, you are immensely likable.”

Elliot sank into the couch. Z laughed.

“She asked to see you again, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go, then! I’ll be your wingman. Fight off the other demons or whatever.”

Elliot wanted to die. But she put her coat on. They walked out to the bus together, Z rambling on the entire way, but Elliot couldn’t hear her. She practiced in her head what to say.

The fog rolled in from the Sound as Elliot and Z descended into the city. Elliot loved it. She loved the way the streets disappeared into the mist, the way it was wet, but not raining, cold, but in a hoodie sort of way. There was a peace in fog she didn’t know where to find anywhere else. Seattle had it by the bucket full. Its misty, moody winters held a place in her heart she wouldn’t soon let go of.

Something struck her, though, as she and Z walked down the glacial cut hills of the city. She thought about the banshee, about the things she had seen that she had quietly put away to never think about again. A foghorn sounded, and a ferry slowly emerged from the fog, slipping out between buildings and gliding over the water. The fog moved, for lack of better words. It rolled and drifted, obscuring everything inside it. But when she looked, when she really LOOKED…

There was a shape, a lumbering, spindly shape that crept through the Sound. It had to have been as tall as a small sky scraper, but its legs were no bigger around that a telephone pole or two. It lifted its leg carefully, moving forward, and gingerly put it down again. Elliot stared, her ears twitching in thought. She wondered how many people saw it, or how many people refused to believe they did. Another foghorn sounded, but this one sounded off. Somehow, it sounded organic.

Z noticed Elliot staring. “They come out when it’s foggy,” she said. “I don’t think they’re interested in people at all. We’ve never had any trouble with them.”

“They don’t eat people?” Elliot asked.

“Just seagulls, I think.”

“Oh, well…”

Z laughed. As they entered the boundaries of Pioneer Square, she said, “So where is this store?”

Elliot fumbled for the card. “I don’t know. There’s no address…”

“I bet it’s one of those old stores that existed before they built the city up.”

“I dunno. How old do demons get?”

“No, like the underground city.”

Elliot rolled her eyes. “That’s a tourist trap. I’ve done it, it’s kind of disappointing.”

“You do touristy stuff? Can we do touristy stuff together?” Z linked her arm through Elliot’s. Elliot pulled her arm away.

“What if there’s, like, a secret underground city?” Z said.

Elliot didn’t say anything. She watched the stairs that went down to basement shops as they passed.

“Hey,” Z said, her voice dropping. “What’s the nerd that’s been following you?”

“Last I saw him, he was wearing a green coat. Dog guy, with grey fur and glasses.” Elliot strained her neck to look at some signs by another set of stairs.

Z turned Elliot just enough that she could see the nerd, lurking at the edge of the crowd.

“Fuck,” Elliot said.

“That’s him?”

“That’s him.”

Z flexed her hand and cracked her knuckles. “Imma go hit him.”

“No no no!” Elliot pulled her away. “What if he’s dangerous?”

“Then he’d better be more dangerous that me,” Z said.

Elliot caught sight of the nerd again, but something felt off. She scanned the crowd around them, and behind them she spotted him, the same guy, same glasses, same coat. “He’s behind us too,” Elliot said.

Z pulled her jaw shut. “Okay, plan B. Head to the Link station. We’re going to be quiet about it, like we have someplace to be. And then we’ll head to Beacon Hill.”

“What’s at Beacon Hill?” Elliot asked, trying as casually as she could to fast walk away from the scene.

“Our escape.” She pulled out her phone. “Hey,” she said. “We’re doing a quick escape. Can you have Morgan or Ethan open the door for us? Yeah, the Beacon Hill one. Thanks boo.”

Z looked around. The Link station was four blocks away, and that nerd was getting closer. “Okay, plan C, follow me.” She took Elliot by the hand and pulled her into an alley. She wrapped her arms around Elliot.

“Hey, come on,” Elliot said.

“Hug me. I need you to do this, please.”

Elliot carefully put her arms around Z. Z closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

The air screamed. Elliot didn’t know the air could scream, but it did, as if it was surprised. Elliot didn’t blame it. Very suddenly the world exploded around her, every molecule gaining and losing sentience in a split second, burning bright with unlimited and utterly constrained thought.

Elliot gasped for air. They stood in the Pioneer Square Link station. Z pushed her into an elevator, and Elliot heard a train clang clang down the tunnel. They got to the platform just as the train arrived. Z pulled her on the train and nearly flung Elliot into a seat. Elliot lay back, still gasping for air. As soon as the doors closed, Z patted Elliot on the back.

“What. What Fuck?” Elliot said.

Z smiled. She made an explosion motion with her hands and mouthed “magic!” Elliot let her head fall back.

“Too bad about not getting to the bookstore though,” Z said. “But we’ll get there.”

“When I stop dying I’m going to kick you into the sun.”

Z beamed. “Grumpy Elliot’s back! I missed her.”

Elliot closed her eyes. This was all too much.

She had really wanted to see Right Determination again…

[g]

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Elliot found her way into a coffee shop downtown, determined to relax and get things sorted out in her head. She bought a fresh notebook at a drugstore on the way over and began to scribble everything down, from the banshee, to the woman (“Gimble??”), to the nerd who was following her, to Z. Just like, everything about Z. This was all very new, and she didn’t want to forget a thing about it.

The nerd was there, of course. He sat with a group of Lemuria brogrammers, sipping his coffee stoically. They laughed at some joke, and he cracked a smile, but it seemed practiced. Elliot wasn’t sure if he knew she was there, and she frankly didn’t want to find out. She ignored him — the coffee shop was full, and he couldn’t start shit if he wanted to.

Up in the loft of the coffee shop, she watched customers wander in, tapping her pen on the notebook page. She went unseen, enough that people ignored her and wouldn’t notice her. They would see someone sitting at a table and forget about her entirely the moment they looked away. It was peaceful, and she fiddled with her music player, scrolling up and down for songs.

A woman walked it. She was human, a little taller than Elliot, with brown hair that went down just past her chin, her face nicely freckled. She wore a tweed suit, complete with vest and bowtie, and carried an umbrella with her, which she closed neatly, shaking off the morning’s rain. And for a moment, she stood in the center of the store and looked around.

Elliot put her pen down. She couldn’t place it, but this woman demanded her attention. She watched as the woman looked around the shop, honing in on a table of tech bros in off to one side. She approached slowly. Elliot blinked, and it was as if the woman had taken a jump forward. She looked at the menu, doing her best to look inconspicuous, but there was something else too. Elliot focused.

The woman… well, changed wasn’t right. She never was the human with the brown hair. Two thick horns came out of her head, spiraling to the side like a ram’s horns would. She still had her brown hair and her freckles, but her eyes were dark black. And behind her, she had a tail, dark and pointy, almost like a cartoon. Elliot gasped. The woman looked up at her, making eye contact. She smiled and put her finger to her lips. And then she ordered coffee.

Elliot considered what to do next. She had been spotted, but she could hardly believe what she had seen. There was… well, demon felt rude, but it was down there, and it looked right at her, and it has cash, apparently. At least, from what Elliot could see, it tipped well. And before she could jump into action, the woman started up the steps to the loft, carrying a latte with her. Elliot froze.

The woman wasted no time getting to Elliot. She put her drink down on the table and sat, her real features becoming clear again. She looked over the trembling raccoon across from her, and propped her head up her hand.

“Well,” the demon said. “You are not from around here.”

She had an accent. Elliot couldn’t place it, and it wasn’t strong. She sounded like she was from elsewhere and had moved to the west coast well before Elliot was born. Though, if Elliot reckoned right, she only looked to be about 35 or so.

Elliot tried to speak, but couldn’t find the right words.

“Out of Town, I presume,” the demon said. She looked down at her ceramic cup and with the tiny spoon provided, she gently scooped some of the foam off her latte. She tried it. “They do a fantastic job here. It’s my favorite in the city.”

Elliot took a deep breath. She organized her thoughts. “I like the donuts,” she said, and then felt stupid. “Also, it’s a good place to hang out for a while.”

“It’s the books on the walls, I think,” the demon said. “Books have a way of doing that. It’s stuffy, but in the most inviting way.”

Elliot nodded. She pulled her jaw tight, her ears dropping on her head as the demon took a drink of her latte, watching the raccoon over the rim of her cup. The demon was content to let her squirm.

“You’re right,” Elliot finally said. “I am from Out of Town.”

The demon smiled at this. “I could see you, even though you’re trying not to be seen. You stood out. I bet that doesn’t happen to you a lot.”

“No, just too much lately,” Elliot said, a little sharper than she had wanted.

“I see your kind from time to time,” the demon said. “Here and there. Occasionally, I sell a book to them. Occasionally, they bring me books. It’s a tidy relationship.”

“You sell books?” Elliot asked.

The demon reached into her pocket and produced a business card. She handed it to Elliot.

“R.D. Booksellers, Pioneer Square.” Elliot read. “Rare and Antique Books. We Buy Your Rare Books, By Appointment Only. Normandy-6-5510.” She furrowed her brow. “Normandy-6? When did you get your number, 1948?”

“It has been the standard way since the 1970s, we recently changed it back for aesthetic purposes. The customers love it.”

“Oh.” Elliot said. “I’d guess, huh?”

The demon perched her hand on her coffee cup, her head in her hand again. “You’re not afraid of me.”

Elliot’s ears twitched. “No, I guess not. Should I be?”

“Most people like you have been when they’ve seen this. Their reactions have been… visceral.”

“Yeah, I guess we have ideas of what someone who looks like you should be but…”

“But…?”

“I guess I’m just not?” Elliot fidgeted, looking out over the lobby of the shop. “You’re interesting?” And her ears dropped. Stupid stupid stupid.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The demon reached her hand across the table. “Right Determination,” she said.

“Elliot.” She shook Right Determination’s hand. “Is that a demon name?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime,” she said. “Is that your grimoire?”

Elliot looked down at her notebook. “I guess?”

“I bet I could find you a better one,” Right Determination said.

“This one was cheap?”

The demon gave her another warm smile. “I’m sure we could work something out.” She finished her coffee and stood, taking the cup and saucer with her. She looked down at Elliot, and perhaps reading her expression, said, “I’m sorry but this was only meant to be a quick smash and grab. I got what I wanted and, turns out, I also got what I needed.”

Elliot felt herself blush. She sank down into her seat.

“You know where I am. If I’m not in the shop, my apprentice can summon me quickly.”

“Okay,” Elliot said softly.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” she said.

Right Determination started to walk away, and had made it about halfway across the loft before she turned around and marched back to Elliot. “I’m being serious, that was an invitation. I know you’re from Out of Town, so don’t get all Seattle on me and not show up.”

“I’m… uhm.” Elliot didn’t know how to react to this.

“Seriously, come chat with me sometime.” And with that, the demon walked out of the store, looking every bit like a human on her way to work.

Elliot let out a deep breath. She shook her head and tried to process what had happened. She took her time finishing her coffee, making notes in her notebook about RD Booksellers. And then the realization hit her so hard she almost fell out of her chair.

Was that demon flirting with her?

[g]

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Elliot’s phone buzzed as soon as she slipped back into her room. Melinda, her roommate, had sent her a shotgun blast of messages.

“I put your laundry in your room. I could have left it on the floor but I was feeling nice.”

Elliot rolled her eyes. Sure she was.

Indeed, a heap of clothes were left on her bed. Elliot poked them. Still damp. Of course they were. She grabbed hangers out of her closet and began to hang her shirts up in her bathroom. She opened up a YouTube stream of music, “Chillhop beats to relax/study to,” because there was no “Calm the fuck down beats to hang up your laundry after your shitty roommates dumped them in your room too early” mix. That was a completely different raccoon.

Her bedroom door opened again. She thought about slamming it shut with — well, she guessed she was calling it magic now, but reminded herself she needed a place to live. She stuck her head out of the bathroom.

“Oh, you’re home.” Melinda stood about five steps into her room, looking for all the world like she wasn’t trying to be sneaky. “Next time you’re going to leave your laundry in the dryer all night, at least let us know.”

“I forgot,” Elliot said. “Sorry.”

“I’m sure you did,” Melinda said. “Like you forget to do the dishes, or take out the garbage, or clean up anything at all.”

Elliot felt the fur prickled on the back of her neck. “What- I do the dishes all the time. I take out the trash ALL THE TIME, even and especially after your shitty parties, which, by the way, none of that garbage is mine.”

“Some of it is.”

“Not three bags full of shitty beer,” Elliot said.

“Right, just your weeaboo coffee in the fridge.”

Elliot narrowed her eyes. “First of all, it’s like four cans at any given time. And second, how do you even know that word?”

“Anyway,” Melinda said. “It won’t be an issue for long.”

Elliot turned and went back to hanging up her laundry. She tossed a few pairs of underwear over the shower curtain rod, and picked up crumpled pair of jeans. Oh, come on, she thought. These will take forever to dry. She’d hang them up outside, but the misty season was just starting. She laughed to herself. Hi, I’m Misty Jeans, welcome to my smut emporium.

“I heard you lost your job.”

Elliot’s ears flattened on her head. She narrowed her eyes again and turned back to Melinda. “Where did you hear that?”

“It’s all over the news.” Melinda took a few mores steps into Elliot’s room, trying to look like she was a concerned parent trying to understand a D+ on a report card. “Kingway, right?”

“I’m actually shocked you remember anything about me. I need to sit down.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with the money soon. Find a new job. There’s plenty out there you could do. What about barista?”

Elliot stared past her, watching her door carefully. “I’ll find a job.”

“Clearly you’re worried about it. That’s why you’ve been out all night.”

Elliot stared.

“If you don’t pay your share of the rent, we’re going to kick you out.”

“You’ve already got your money. You had no problem cashing that check.”

Melinda nodded slowly, considerately. “Let’s put it this way then: There’s four of us in this house, and one of us has an arrest record.”

“Is it you?” Elliot asked. “Too much fun at homecoming? Couldn’t keep your clothes on at Mardi Gras?” Elliot raised an eyebrow. “Arson??”

“We heard that cops took you in last night. We can’t have someone in this house that is dangerous, like you.”

This was starting to push a very specific button. Humans had ideas about the furs around them, based on ancient fables from when humans and furs interacted less. If she started about the black mask of fur on her face…

“They wanted a statement,” Elliot said. “I wasn’t arrested. I saw something and the cops wanted a statement from me.”

“Sure, buddy,” Melinda said. “Just something me and the girls have to think about is all.”

“Well,” Elliot said. She tried to think of something else, but she was just so tired. She put another shirt on a hanger and hung it in the bathroom.

The sound of an empty can hit the ground. Elliot looked out again. It was her Japanese coffee, coffee she bought in the International District when she had had a little surplus of cash. Melinda stood purposefully over the can, watching Elliot’s reaction carefully.

Elliot said nothing, but death stared at Melinda.

“Call it a little preemptive counter theft,” she said. “We have to protect ourselves when you leave. Who know what might disappear-”

Elliot concentrated until she felt the door and slammed it shut. Melinda spun around.

“Hell of a breeze outside,” Elliot said. She reached out up the stairs, farther than she ever had before, feeling around until she found the fridge.

“What-” Melinda said. Upstairs, the sound of beer bottles clattering to the ground broke the silence. Melinda shouted and flung Elliot’s door open. She darted upstairs. Elliot carefully hung up another shirt.

Upstairs, Melinda shrieked. Concentrating, Elliot found the sink and turned it on. She felt around for the dish hose and, not knowing where Melinda was standing, began to spray the area wildly. Melinda shrieked again. Elliot laughed to herself. She caught herself in the mirror, noticing a small trickle of blood from her nose, and she looked fucking metal. She laughed again and wiped the blood away.

“I don’t know how you did it,” Melinda said from her doorway. “But I know you did it, you fucking mutant. You’re out of here. I’ll call the fucking cops.”

Elliot looked at her, leveling her shoulders. “You’re right. I have, what, a week and a half left? So let’s discuss that.”

“Fuck you,” Melinda said. “I’m not listening to a fucking pel-”

“You finish that and I’ll set you on fire with magic,” Elliot said.

Melinda stammered. “You wouldn’t,” she said. “You can’t.”

“Ask somebody,” Elliot said.

Melinda’s eyes went wide, and she fell back into the hallway.

“I’m going to find a place to live. Meanwhile, don’t touch my stuff. Cool?”

Melinda nodded.

Elliot slammed her door closed again.

She felt dizzy and collapsed onto her bed, panting, her heart racing. She felt for her phone and instantly texted Z.

“I did a bad thing and I need a place to stay.”

Z responded instantly. “I’m at Vic’s Garage. Come meet me and we’ll figure things out. Wait, do you need me to get you? Do you have your stuff?”

“My stuff will be fine for a minute. I’ll be there soon.”

That night, Elliot made herself comfortable on Z’s couch. She and Ty had gone with her to collect up her things, which fit neatly in Ty’s trunk. In some ways, Elliot felt disappointed that her life was barely more than a suitcase full of things. But she also felt relieved to be escaping as quickly.

Ty got them to Z’s, a modest one bedroom in the Central District, gave Elliot a reassuring hug, and left them alone.

“It’s not much,” Z said, handing Elliot her own key to the building and the apartment. “But the Internet is fiber and my neighbors are pretty cool.”

“It’s really nice,” Elliot said softly. “Thank you.”

Z smiled at her. “My pleasure.” She went to her kitchenette and turned on an electric kettle. “Want some tea? Gimble has an amazing tea source. I got some great stuff to calm you down.”

Elliot nodded. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them.

Z fetched two cups from her cabinets and set them out, preparing the tea in its own pot.

“Have you given the group any more thought?” Z asked.

“I super don’t want to talk about that right now.”

“Fair,” Z said. She poured hot water into the teapot. “It’s a standing offer, so whenever you’re ready, let me know.”

Elliot stared at the wall. “I shouldn’t have done that to Melinda.”

“You did nothing that you can’t deny,” Z said. “So that’s like really good on your part.”

“Ha,” Elliot said. “I feel awful about it.”

“You stood up for yourself. It sounds like she deserved a punch in the jaw, if not being set on fire. Did you really threaten to set her on fire?”

Elliot looked away.

“You’re amazing,” Z said. She brought Elliot her tea. Elliot set it down on a side table. She looked around the apartment again.

“How is your furniture so nice?”

Z said, “Once upon a time, when I lived in Portland, I had a wife. Bet you didn’t see that coming.”

Elliot shook her head.

“I had a decent job and she did too, and we were able to get some nice stuff and a nice condo before things went totally nuts down there. And then everything fell apart.”

“I’m sorry,” Elliot said.

Z gave her a soft smile and dropped her eyes. “I appreciate it. It happens.” She took a long sip of her tea. “Anyway, she took the condo when we got divorced. I took the furniture. I think I did okay.”

“This couch is nice,” Elliot said.

“It’s very comfortable,” Z said. “Great for sleeping. But if it doesn’t work for you, you could always share the bed with me.”

Elliot gave Z a sidelong stare. “Well this escalated quickly.”

Z laughed.

“I’m not interested,” Elliot said.

“Okay,” Z said. “Just putting things out there. That’s part of the Secret, you know.”

“Ha.” Elliot tried the tea. It was well spiced, and it reminded her of Christmas. And, she had to admit, she felt better, even after that sip.

Z finished her tea. “You’ve had a long day. I’m going to go run some errands and let you have the apartment to yourself for a bit. Chinese for dinner sound good?”

Elliot nodded. “Yeah. Can… can we get some crab rangoon?”

“Do you think I’m just fucking around? Fuck yeah we’re getting crab rangoon.” She stood and patted Elliot on the head. “Text me if you need me.”

And with that, Elliot was suddenly alone. She stretched out on the couch.

Crap. She picked up the phone to text Z, but Z got to her first.

“The WiFi password is MegaButtz.”

“Ha, thanks. Read my mind.”

“;3”

Elliot laughed to herself. She opened her laptop, connected to the wifi, and began an episode of Emerald City Paranormal. A moment later she was asleep.

[g]

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Elliot stood in front of a house. It was like any other house in the Central District, built sometime before World War II on a street that was never intended for that many cars. She fiddled with her phone, watching the messages like a hawk.

Honestly, she didn’t know what she expected. Maybe something more… dangerous? More sinister. This was a cult, right? Why didn’t they have a cave? Or like, a stone dungeon somewhere.

Her phone vibrated. “Hey, I’m inside. Go down the path on the side of the house to the door for the basement apartment.”

“You’ve seen the Goodfellas, right?”

“What, how old are you, grandpa?”

“It’s on cable all the time.” Elliot looked for the path that went next to the house and down behind it. “You’re going to shoot me.”

“Nah.”

The path led to a little patio, and a door flanked by two forgettable plastic chairs.

“So do I knock or” Elliot texted.

“Just open the door.”

Elliot pushed the door open. Inside was an apartment, but the apartment had been turned into a coffee shop. Elliot entered into a small foyer, through which she could see a modest living room, lined with tables and chairs, lit by candles and a string of lights that ran around the ceiling. Elliot started into the shop, and spotted another room, probably an old bedroom, again lined with tables and chairs, and an old couch. She looked around, taking in the shop.

Elliot suddenly realized, all joking aside, she was in someone’s basement, and no one would know where she was. And the only person that may have cared was skulking around the same basement somewhere.

Someone stuck their head out from the kitchen. “Hello,” they said. He was lion… maybe, his fur a weak honey, or maybe a solid egg yolk. He had headfur that pushed past his chin, almost hiding a collar around his neck, and a pair of glasses on his broad muzzle.

“I’m here to meet someone?” Elliot said, shifting her weight towards the door.

“You must be Elliot,” the man said.

Elliot nodded. She still wasn’t comfortable with this whole everyone knowing her name thing.

The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Arie. Welcome to Cassie’s.”

“Thanks,” Elliot said, shaking Arie’s hand. “I don’t know where I am right now.”

“I’m sure Z would like to explain,” Arie said. He motioned to follow him, and Elliot tagged along, looking over her shoulder just in case.

Zerina — or Z now, Elliot guessed — stood at a counter with another woman. She was human, black, wearing a sun dress, covered by an apron to keep the collateral damage of baking off of her. A timer went off, and Z checked the oven before removing a cake. She set it among half a dozen others, and the human set upon the cake with a fresh bowl of frosting.

“Oh,” the human said. “Hey. One of yours?” She looked at Z.

Z spun around and nearly tackled Elliot. “You came!”

“We were literally just texting,” Elliot croaked. She pushed Z off of her.

“This is Elliot, huh?” The human put her hands on her hips and looked her up and down. “Does she know?”

“She’s going to learn,” Z said. “This is Cassie, by the way. She owns this place.”

“Hi,” Elliot said.

“Welcome,” Cassie said.

“Is this… Is this legal?”

“Nope,” Z said. “So you shut your mouth about it.”

Elliot help up her hands. “Just curious.”

“We serve a need in our community, and a few others,” Cassie said. “We open late and close after sunrise. Sometimes our clientele just want to hang out, and sometimes they have nowhere to go.”

“That’s awfully nice,” Elliot said softly.

Cassie shooed them out of her kitchen. “You have a lot to tell Elliot about, and I need to finish these cakes, so get out.”

Z laughed and motioned for Elliot to follow her. They sat at a table in the corner, looking out over the shop. Arie brought them both coffee.

“Thanks,” Elliot said.

“Makes the world go round,” Arie said, and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Z stirred cream into her coffee. “I expect that you have questions.”

“You can’t just tell me? We’re going to sit here and play magic eight ball?”

“Seems likely,” Z said. She took a sip of her coffee. “Let’s start at the beginning…”

Elliot looked down at her coffee. She used to drink it loaded with sugar and milk, but since college she had weened herself away from that, learning to appreciate the distinct flavors of different kinds of coffee. From the taste of this, Cassie wasn’t messing around.

“What do you mean by Out of Town?” Elliot asked.

Z nodded, as if she was checking off items on a list. “That you’re one of us. That’s a little code, right?”

“Because no one in Seattle is from here.”

Z pointed at Elliot. “You clever cactus.”

“But what does it mean?”

“You tell me.” Z took a sip of her coffee and looked across the room. On the wall were hundreds of sticky notes, all with little messages written on them. Elliot set her coffee down and crossed the room to the wall. The notes said things like, “one cup of coffee,” “a piece of cake for someone having a shitty day,” “a latte for an awesome trans person (go ahead and get the oat milk, you deserve it).”
“People buy those,” Z said. “Put them up on the wall for those who need them.”

“Have you ever used one?” Elliot asked. She approached the table again, slower, processing this new information.

“Once or twice,” Z said with a shrug. “But I’m lucky that I’ve been able to contribute so many more.”

“Who comes here?” Elliot asked. She sat down, looking Z right in the eyes.

“People like us,” Z said. “The queers and the weirdos, the cast offs and adventurers. And sometimes people who aren’t even from Out of Town, but know people who are.”

Elliot looked down at her coffee again, as if she was waiting for answers. The coffee didn’t answer, it was coffee. It didn’t know anything, and Elliot scowled at it a little.

“So I’ve been able to do this trick all of my life, since I could remember. I can, like, disappear. Not actually disappear, but people stop seeing me. They don’t process that I’m there? And, like, I think deep down they know I’m there, because they’ve never sat on me or run into me. They just… don’t really see me.”

“It’s a neat trick,” Z said.

“But you can,” Elliot said, anger steeping into her voice. “Twenty years of practice and you saw me every single time. How did you see me?”

“Because I knew what to look for,” Z said. “Because I wanted to see you.”

“What can you do?” Elliot asked. “What did you figure out when you were a kid that you knew you shouldn’t show anyone?”

Z smiled. “I could make my dolls walk around on their own.”

“Wow, that’s horrifying.”

“You bet!” Z said. “Yeah, I didn’t really show that one off. But I knew something was going on then. I would challenge myself to do stuff, too. And I thought I was alone until I met Ty in college.”

Elliot nodded. “I don’t… I don’t have a word for what I think we are.”

“That’s so not true,” Z said. “Because I know you met Gimble last night. I know what you saw.”

“Okay, I don’t have a word that doesn’t sound absolutely ridiculous.”

“It’s a little weird, isn’t it?” Z said. “But I want to hear it from you.”

“Gimble… is a witch,” Elliot said. “And so are you.”

“And you are too,” Z said. She beamed. “You did it!”

“And Cassie is too?”

Z nodded.

“And Arie? Is he a boy witch?”

“Arie is a well wisher and all around good boy, but he is not, in the capitalized sense, from Out of Town.”

Elliot sat back in her chair. “I really don’t know what to say to this.”

“Join our group,” Z said. “Hang out with us. We’ll help you find a new job and a place to live and… oh! Want to be roomies? I have space.”

“Hard pass,” Elliot said. She looked up at Z, who watched her with such positive energy. Elliot felt like she was being unfair. “Why are you so eager to help me?”

“We’ve all been there,” Z said. “We’ve all been alone and scared, terrified of what will happen if the world finds out. You’re safe with us. We can help you learn how to control your magic-”

Elliot let out a laugh, and then had the decency to look like she felt bad about it.

“We help each other.”

Elliot nodded. “I need to figure all of this out.”

“Understandable,” Z said. “But I do hope you join us. You’ll fit right in.”

“God, you are a cult.”

Z beamed.

Arie came in from the kitchen, carrying two slices of red and white cake. “Cassie just finished this one. Red velvet with raspberry filling.” He set the plates down in front of them, and then looked at Elliot.

“So, do you know yet?”

Elliot nodded. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“It is,” Arie said. “But I know this group, and they’re the best. They’ll take care of you.”

Elliot nodded again. She was running out of words fast. She let the thought drift to the back of her mind, and in the meantime, she had cake.

[g]

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