Pacific NorthWitch 11

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For a brief moment, the sky in Seattle opened up, a shy blue against the autumn haze and mist. Elliot looked up, shielding her eyes from the sudden, unexpected sunshine. From the ferry terminal on Vashon Island, the day looked bright, which was a mixed bag, frankly. Elliot liked the cold and the rain. It was moody, but also pretty in its own way. The way streetlights reflected off the streets, the way colors muted under the clouds. It was hoodie weather, and Elliot loved nothing more than hoodie weather, except maybe coffee to go with it.

Gimble had offered to open a door to wherever she wanted to go in the city, but Elliot wanted the time alone. Last week she had been an office drone, scouting mobile games for her company to copy, and now she was suddenly a witch, and the world was suddenly filled with magic. Now, there was a dead guy in the city morgue covered in a strange spell, and this new world was getting a little claustrophobic.

Elliot caught the ferry back to downtown Seattle, watching out the window from her seat. She thought about Mitchell Locke, and if he had had a sudden epiphany right before he disappeared, that the world wasn’t what he had thought it was, that there was more to it. Honestly, disappearing sounded nice. But that was the lack of coffee talking.

Agent Lebeaux waited at the end of the dock, wearing a blue overcoat and a hat that made her look like a cop in a Sherlock Holmes book. She watched Elliot approach.

“It’s the cop,” Elliot said, refusing to make eye contact with the cat.

“Have a moment?” She asked.

“No.”

Agent Lebeaux turned to follow Elliot, who weaved through the crowd towards, well, anywhere to get rid of the cop on her tail.

“Things have gotten stranger, haven’t they?”

Elliot’s ears twitched. She didn’t stop.

“I believe there is… for lack of better words, a cult in this city.”

“Dope,” Elliot said. “Where do they meet? Do they need a sacrifice, because right now you’re killing me, and I’d rather help raise an old god.”

“I’m having trouble pin pointing that-”

“You know, to be useful…” Elliot continued.

“I think they’re dangerous,” the agent said. “I believe they’re aligned with someone very powerful, but there’s a lot of people like that in this city.”

Elliot grunted. She locked her eyes with a coffee shop and did her best to move in a straight line towards it. Agent Lebeaux struggled to stay close.

“Do you believe in magic?” Agent Lebeaux asked.

Elliot hesitated, and she stumbled. Agent Lebeaux caught her by the arm.

“That was quite a reaction,” she said. “I think in poker they’d call that a tell.”

Elliot stepped back out of the sidewalk, her back to a wall, and she thought, watching the shoes of the commuters around her. The agent watched her expectantly. Elliot looked away, looking for the Sound Walkers in the mist. “If you’re going to get me to talk, at least be useful and get me a cup of coffee.”

“Deal,” Agent Lebeaux said.

They walked in silence, stood in line in silence, until they were sitting 40 stories up in the Columbia Tower, looking out over the city. Elliot could hardly tear herself away from the window. Agent Lebeaux watched, her tail twitching in amusement at Elliot’s awe.

“This cult,” the agent started. Elliot’s ears perked again. “Its members have come from all over. I believe they are being recruited, but I’m having trouble sussing them out.”

“You think they’re magic?” Elliot asked quietly, watching cars travel down Fifth Avenue.

“I think so. Let me show you something.” The agent pulled an object out of her bag and set it on the table. It looked like a stone plate, about the size of Elliot hand, with a metal needle that balanced on a single point. The needle wobbled back and forth a bit, pointing around the room in sweeping arcs, before it settled on Elliot.

“It’s a thaumic compass,” the agent explained. “Instead of pointing to magnetic north, it looks for sources of magic.” She looked up at Elliot. “Looks like it found one.”

Elliot sank in her chair. She looked out the window. “What do you want?”

“Do you know about this cult?”

“What, you think I’m in it?” She asked sharply. “You think I’m dangerous?”

“No,” the agent said.

Elliot looked up at her, her ears pressed against her head.

“Every suspected member is male.”

“Hmm.” Elliot said. She thought a moment, her ears perking. “So, I might know someone who is…”

Elliot described the nerd to Agent Lebeaux.

“Bi-location?” She said. “That’s something. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Yeah, do that,” Elliot said. “That’s all I know.” She stood.

“I’m not done,” the agent said.

Elliot turned over her coffee cup, the last drop falling to the floor. “Feed the meter or I’m leaving.”

The agent slapped a dollar down on their table. “Get a refill.”

Elliot did, dropping the change in the tip box, and she sat back down.

“There’s one other thing,” the agent said. “I think this has to do with Mitchel Locke.”

Elliot set her cup down. “Yeah?”

“His disappearance… it’s well known in the DHS. People don’t just disappear like that.”

“What about alien abductions?” Elliot asked, leaning forward. Her tail twitched in excitement.

“I knew you were going to say that!” Agent Lebeaux said.

“I’m not hearing no…” Elliot said.

The agent sat back in her chair, and for a brief moment she smiled.

“Aw! I was so close,” Elliot said.

“Back to Locke.”

“Imma tell the Internet,” Elliot said, getting her phone out. “‘Dummy cop spills beans on aliens’.”

The agent rolled her eyes.

“Okay, so you were saying about Locke…”

Agent Lebeaux adjusted the cuffs of her sleeves. “He must be involved. Maybe as a ritual. You’ve seen the video. You’ve seen his hesitation.”

Elliot considered this. “Can I ask you a legitimate question?”

“Legitimate?”

“Yeah.”

The agent nodded.

“What happened to his car? Did you find anything inside of it?”

The cat leaned back in her chair. Her ears leveled out in thought. “That is a question, isn’t it? I’ve seen notes on its contents, but nothing really stood out.”

“Hmmm.” Elliot said. “Could… Could I see those notes?”

Agent Lebeaux took a long sip of her coffee. “Ah. What’s in it for me?”

Elliot’s ears perked. “Wow. A crooked cop.”

“I mean,” Agent Lebeaux said, “why should I? You’ve been nothing but shit to me since we met.”

Elliot started to speak, but thought better of it. She tapped her fingers on the table. “Okay… okay, what about I help you with your questions more?”

“Like we have more of these chats?”

“Like I’m not instantly an asshole to you.”

“Gosh, can you manage?”

Elliot frowned.

“I think,” the agent said, “that we have a deal.”

“BUT,” Elliot continued. “But I get to say no to any question if I want to.”

“How is that different than now?”

“I’ll be polite about it?”

The cat nodded. “Fair. Agreed?” She held out her hand.

Elliot looked down at it, and processed if her terms were good or if she was walking herself into a trap. She shook the agent’s hand. “Agreed.”

The agent stood. “Come on. I’m going to do one better for you.”

“What?”

Agent Lebeaux offered her hand to help Elliot up.

“Let’s go see the car itself.”

[g]

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Pacific NorthWitch 10

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It is important to know that the universe does not care about you. You are just one body on one planet that orbits one star, one of the many bodies that orbits that star, and among stars, it is just one of billions in our galaxy, and just one of billions of galaxies in our universe. The universe, to say the least, has other things to worry about than such an unfathomably small fraction of a whole. When bad things happen to good people, it is useless to blame the universe, because the universe will never notice either sleight.

Magic, however, is watching with incredible curiosity. That’s not to say that magic makes things happen, though at the same time, what is result without cause? Magic instead makes shifty eyes at things, clears its throat at the right time, smiles at the worst times. Magic doesn’t steer, it nudges.

Elliot felt the nudging, and as far as she was concerned, magic could eat an entire dick. She stood out in the rain, which was to be expected this late into the year, but it had been clear moments before, and now it was as if the rain had always been there, would always be there, why wouldn’t it? It felt… well, wrong wasn’t the right word. It felt on purpose.

She kept moving forward, until she reached the King County Medical Building. Z waited there, holding an umbrella, looking for all the world like she was enjoying herself. And honestly, Elliot liked the rain. She liked how light reflected off the wet city streets, the gloominess, even the cold, just a little. But even in her short time in Seattle, she knew no one carried an umbrella, unless you were a tourist. Z made it look natural, and when Elliot looked closer, she noticed that Z was way too dry for a city where the rain came at you sideways.

“Morning!” Z said. She closed the umbrella, and Elliot saw the rain drops bouncing off of an unseen shield above her. Elliot breathed out a sharp breath through her nose. Z laughed and opened the door for her.

The reception area looked perfectly in place for 1996, though it looked like the purples and blue-greens of the past had been painted over to look more up to date. A woman sat behind the desk, tapping away at an indifferent computer.

“Can I help you?” The woman asked.

“We’re here to see someone,” Z said, not stopping. A guard stepped in front of her and pointed her back to reception.

“Name?”

“Meryl Kim,” Z said.

“Department.”

“Medical Examiner.”

“They don’t take visitors.”

“Hm,” Z said. “She’ll see us.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Elliot noticed Z slowly reach into her pocket and retrieve a charm. It looked like a dark red glass marble wrapped in silver wires, as if to hold it to a necklace. Z held it gingerly, and Elliot could have sworn it started to glow.

“Yes,” Z said, looking the receptionist in the eye. “Yes, I do.”

The receptionist blinked and shook her head, and then fell into Z’s gaze. “Ah, yes, you do.”

“May we go in?” Z asked.

“You may go in. First elevator bank on the right.” The receptionist said.

The room, Elliot could see, had grown darker. She could see her breath, and she held herself to keep warm.

The security guard stepped aside and let Z and Elliot pass through. Z grabbed a couple of Visitor badges from the desk. She handed one to Elliot, found the elevators, and pushed the down button.

“What the hell was that?” Elliot hissed.

“Sometimes people need to be persuaded,” Z said simply.

“Are their minds melted? Did you melt their minds?”

“They’re fine,” Z said, returning to her sunny demeanor. “They won’t remember a thing.”

Elliot thought about this. Magic. Of course. She should be used to this by now.

The elevator opened to another boring reception area. This time, however, the desk was empty. Z pushed her way through a double door into a world of stainless steel and concrete and harsh light. Elliot squinted as she entered.

“Hello?” Z called out. There was some shuffling somewhere around the corners of the space, and then a head stuck out from behind a wall.

“Z!” It must have been Meryl. She was lynx, or maybe bobcat, Elliot could never tell the two apart. Something about tails? She wore her long headfur pulled back into a ponytail, the headfur between her tall tufted ears a cute pixie situation. She was a little shorter than Elliot, but her energy filled the room. She nearly sprinted across the floor, and Z caught her before she could tackle her in her blood spattered apron.

“Hey!” Z said, holding her back. “I also don’t want to look like a murder victim.”

“Oh, right, right, right!” Meryl pulled her apron off and jumped into Z’s arms. “Hi! You came to visit!”

“I did!” Z said, and kissed Meryl on the cheek. “I’m showing Elliot around.”

Meryl gasped, looking over at Elliot. “Oh my god, you’re Elliot!” She all but tackled Elliot, hugging her tight. “Are you going to join us? We’re all so excited!”

“Ha, thanks,” Elliot said. Meryl let her go and looked back over at Z. “Has she met everyone?”

“You’re the last,” Z said. “We lost our jobs, so we’re looking to see if anyone needs help.”

“Oh no! You didn’t tell me!”

“Ty knows. Did she not tell you?”

“No! What the hell?” Meryl put her hands on her hips. She turned back to Elliot. “But you’re here now! What can you do?”

“Uhm,” Elliot said. “Nothing yet? I’m really good at being not noticeable?”

Meryl raised an eyebrow. “That might actually be useful. Let me show you what I do.” She took Elliot and Z over to a box of gloves and fresh aprons. “Put these on. This job is messy sometimes.”

“I’m pretty sure it shouldn’t be messy,” Z said to Elliot.

“Hey, one of us has a medical degree here. I think I know how messy things should be.”

In the corner where Meryl had been working, a body lay on an examining table. Meryl has already started the autopsy, cutting a Y-shaped incision in the chest.

“You’re a coroner,” Elliot said.

“Medical examiner,” Meryl said. “There’s weird legal differences as to what that means. I think in Louisiana coroners get to have guns.”

“Meryl cuts the dead into chunks,” Z said.

“Yes, but before hand, I need to find out how they died. That’s the money maker.”

“You don’t know?” Elliot asked quietly.

“They bring people to me when they don’t know how they died.” Meryl wriggled her fingers in the air. “Turns out I have a knack for it.”

Meryl waved a hand, and as if a veil had been pulled away from the examining bay, a dozen candles appeared around them. The lights dropped, and the cold room grew colder. Meryl took Elliot’s hand, and then Z’s. “You ever done a spell before?” She asked Elliot.

“Uhm…” Elliot said, her eyes going wide.

Meryl gave her a soft smile. “Just focus on directing your energy to me.”

Elliot nodded.

Meryl took a deep breath. For a moment, she concentrated, metering her breathing, her eyes closed, her ears twitching just a little. When she opened her eyes, they glowed faintly, and she exhaled an electric fog.

Meryl fixed her eyes on the corpse, the former person in front of her, and said, “Hey! Hey guy! Hey buddy. What happened? How’d you yeet off this mortal coil?”

Elliot started to speak when the man sat up, or rather, an etherial form of him did. His body lay cold and stiff on the examiner’s table. The man looked around, his eyes wide, almost panicked. And then his shoulders slumped.

“Oh, this isn’t good, is it?” He said. More than anything, he sounded tired.

“Hi,” Meryl said. “I think it depends on what you believe.”

The man said nothing to this.

“Okay so,” Meryl said. “My name is Meryl Kim, I’m Assistant Medical Examiner for King County. We’re talking today because you died.”

“Yeah, it’s starting to seem like that,” The man said. “Who are they?”

“Colleagues,” Meryl said.

“Do medical examiners always hold hands and light candles?”

“It helps the spell work,” Meryl said.

“See, I thought the candles would have been for the smell,” The man said.

Meryl beamed. “Glad to see you’re in good spirits.”

“I guess it can’t be helped, I’m in some kind of spirit already.”

“What’s your name?” Meryl asked. “We’re going to be working together, so it’d be polite to have a name for you.”

“Joe Deacon,” the man said.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Deacon,” Meryl said. She motioned to the witches beside her. “This is Elliot and Zerina. We’ve been tasked with figuring out why you died.”

“Well that’s…” Mr. Deacon started. And then he stopped. “Huh. That’s funny.”

“You can’t remember,” Meryl said. “Happens all of the time.”

Mr. Deacon’s spirit turned and swung his legs over the edge of the examining table. He seemed to be testing his purchase on the ethereal plane. He looked down at the floor, and then sat up straight. Far enough, Elliot guessed.

“Surprising,” Mr. Deacon said. “I can remember everything that happened in my life. Everything.” He hesitated. “Oh god. Oh no.”

Meryl waited, still watching him with her sunny disposition. “Everything,” she said.

“When I was in high school, there was this girl, Jennifer Keeley. I adored her. I was going to marry her, I knew it. And so I went to ask her out. I got up to her, face to face, and I said, ‘Jennifer…’ I had this speech memorized. It was going to bring her to tears. ‘Jennifer, everyday I spend in your presence is like heaven.’ And then I farted. Just right there. And I panicked and ran away and we never spoke again.”

“I don’t know why you’d lock that one away,” Z said. “That story rules. You ever puke on anyone?”

Meryl elbowed her. “Think back, if you can, to your last memories. Is there anyone that would want to kill you?”

“Jennifer Keeley,” Z suggested.

Meryl rolled her eyes.

“You made a powerful enemy that day, Joseph! A powerful enemy!”

Meryl motioned to Z with her head, and silence surrounded Z. She kept talking, but Elliot couldn’t hear a thing she was saying.

“No enemies,” Mr. Deacon said. “At least, I think so. I was as kind to everyone as I could be.”

“Not your family?”

“I don’t have any.”

Meryl thought a moment. “When we found you, you had no identification, no distinguishing marks, nothing. Forgive me if this is rude, but who would miss you?”

“I have a job. Aw dang it.” Mr. Deacon frowned. “I’ve probably lost my job.”

“You’ve got a few bigger fish to fry than that, buddy,” Meryl said. Z laughed silently next to her, and then said something Elliot couldn’t hear.

“Lemuria,” Mr. Deacon said. “I’m a janitor, over at that new building in South Lake Union. Bunch of programmers, they’ve said. I must have died on the job.”

Meryl nodded. “Doesn’t explain why they took your clothes, but it might explain the heart attack.”

Mr. Deacon looked sad. “It wasn’t much of a life,” he said.

“Aww, buddy,” Meryl said. “We’re all trying our best, okay?”

Mr. Deacon nodded.

“I think we got everything we need,” Meryl said. “I hope the afterlife is good to you, Mr. Deacon.”

“Is the guy in the suit with you too?” Mr. Deacon asked.

Elliot looked to follow his gaze, but didn’t see anything.

“Hat or no hat?” Meryl asked.

“No hat?” Mr. Deacon said.

“Nice. Thanks, Mr. Deacon. Goodbye.”

And with that, the lights in the room returned, and Mr. Deacon’s spirit evaporated.

Meryl let Elliot and Z go. Suddenly, Z could speak again.

“Don’t you dare mute me again,” Z said. “I swom to jom.”

Meryl leaned in close to the body. “You see it?”

Elliot looked around. “Uhm…”

Z looked closer too. “Oh. Oh wow.”

“I don’t see anything,” Elliot said. “Except a dead guy.”

“Mr. Deacon,” Meryl corrected. “There are the faintest traces of a spell on this body.”

“Didn’t we just do a spell?” Elliot asked, leaning in a little closer.

Meryl slowly followed an unseen line up Mr. Deacon’s torso. “This isn’t our magic. It doesn’t feel like either of you.”

Z leaned closer to Meryl. “What does my magic feel like?”

Meryl rolled her eyes again. “Elliot’s is distinct. It’s anxious and timid and eager at the same time.”

Elliot didn’t know how to feel about that. But it wasn’t untrue.

“That’s not who I asked about,” Z said.

“Yours feels like a goblin that got into too much caffeine.”

Z laughed. Elliot did too, just a little.

“But this,” Meryl said. She handed them both gloves to put on. “Help me flip him over.”

Carefully, they rolled the corpse onto its stomach. And Elliot saw for the first time what they had been looking at.

She had seen it before, of course. It was like something that hid in the corners of her vision, but right in front of her. But now she could see them, lines, lines all over the body. They looked like the trail of a dot on an old, burnt out CRT screen. There was the glowing, thaumic void, running in even lines, parallel to each other, bending at neat angles, and all pointing to one solid dot on the back of his neck.

Meryl pushed them back. “This is dangerous. I’ve never seen this before.” She went to her desk and began to rummage through it, until she found a piece of chalk. She drew a circle around the examining table. “Keep that shit in there,” she said, and the chalk glowed in acknowledgement.

“There’s structure to that,” Z said.

“Like the nerd,” Elliot said.

“What is happening?” Meryl said softly to herself.

“Hey,” Z said. Elliot looked over. Z was on her phone. “Get to Meryl’s work as soon as you can. Yeah, it’s serious. Things are getting really weird.” She hung up. “Gimble’s coming.”

“Good,” Meryl said. “Something’s wrong.” She looked up at Elliot and smiled. “Magic!”

[g]

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Pacific NorthWitch 09

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Elliot could smell Gimble before she saw her. She had nested into a beanbag chair on the floor of the media room, not really reading. Z brought her tea, and kept music going, flipping and replacing records when the time called for it. She was giving Elliot some distance, letting her have space to let things settle again. That’s when the smell of cookie floated into the room.

Z looked up, then over at the stairs down to the first floor, and then to Elliot.

“She’s here,” Z said. “You want to go meet her?”

Elliot looked up. She had been staring at the wall for the last hour. Her ears perked, and she nodded. Z helped her up and guided her down to the kitchen.

The kitchen looked like it had been remodeled in the last three decades or so. The counters were tile, blue and white, and an island separated the kitchen from one of the sitting rooms of the house. The appliances must have been high tech when they were new, but they showed their age. But there were two big windows that let in the receding light of the day, and the white cabinets really helped brighten everything up.

Gimble was bent over the over, pulling a tray of cookies out. Elliot jumped when she recognized her, just as she had been a few nights ago, when she was scaring the monster away. She wore a nice dress that went down past her knees, but everything else about her looked the same as that night. She placed the tray of cookies on the tile counter and closed the oven.

“Hello,” she said, as warm as her baking, looking right at Elliot. She stood up straight, and moved with a grace that must have been practiced. “I had hoped to make this a little more formal, but it sounds like there were circumstances beyond our control.”

Elliot realized her jaw had gone slack, and that Gimble was probably waiting for an answer. “Yeah, sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I’m glad you’re both safe.”

“We should talk about what happened,” Z said. “He was bi-locating.”

Gimble’s big, soft looking ears perked. “That is something, isn’t it? Ty and Meryl should know about this. Cassie too, just in case he goes looking for trouble.”

Z nodded. She started to leave when Elliot caught her by the arm. Z patted her hand.

“I’m just going to give you two some privacy. I’m not going anywhere.”

Elliot nodded and reluctantly let her go. When she turned back, she found Gimble watching her carefully.

“You are quite anxious,” she said.

Elliot nodded. “I’ve… this has been a lot.”

“I bet it has,” Gimble said. Elliot could hear now the Cantonese accent slipping into her speech. “But you’re here. I expect you have a lot of questions.”

“You’re a witch too,” Elliot said. She squeezed her eyes shut. Of course she was.

“Like you, I had my own discovery. You, I think, handled yours better than mine.”

“I had to leave college because of mine,” Elliot said. “I guess not the discovery. Just the fear part.”

Gimble turned back to the cookies. She began to scoop them off of the tray and plate them. “I would love to hear it if you don’t mind sharing.”

Elliot looked down at the floor. “How many of you are there?”

“Covens like ours? Or Witches in general?”

Elliot shrugged.

“There’s four of us,” Gimble said. “You’ve met most of us now. But there are other covens out there, spread out throughout the Sound. Cassie you’ve met. She doesn’t have a coven, but she does host a lot of us. On a good night, you could meet dozens of witches at her place.”

Elliot thought about this. “That’s kind of neat.”

“It’s nice to know who your peers are,” Gimble said. “When we need, we have a network of people we can call on.”

“Call on for what?” Elliot asked, her tail twitching. “What do you do? Why do you want me?”

Gimble set a kettle on the stove and turned on the burner. She considered the question, watching the flame under the kettle. “Survival is the easiest answer,” she said. “There’s a macro answer I’m sure. We do what any other community does: we connect, we uplift, and we thrive, even as those who seek to hurt us threaten us. Sometimes that means taking a bag of veggies from our gardens to someone who needs to eat, or having a potluck dinner with a couple of other covens, and inviting those who we know could use it. It means making sure those people leave with all of the leftovers they can carry. It means if you lose your job or your living situation, you never have to worry about sleeping on the street. This giant house isn’t just for me to live in by myself.”

Elliot thought about sleeping on Z’s couch, and how quickly Z had been to offer that up.

“It means we protect each other. And we speak up for those who can’t. We watch the backs of our own and push back at power. You ever put a hex on someone?”

“I mean,” Elliot started. “No? I… don’t know how?”

“It’s something to be careful with, but it’s how some covens make sure certain people don’t hurt others again.”

“So why do you want me?” Elliot asked. “I’m not a fighter. I’m not, like, strong.”

“You’re curious,” Gimble said. “I bet you could tell me everything about banshee right now.”

Elliot started to open her mouth, but stopped. Shit, Gimble was right.

“Which one is your favorite?” Gimble asked. She produced a pour over funnel from her cabinet and began to make coffee.

“Mothman,” Elliot said softly. “People think of him as a monster but he was trying to warn everyone that something was about to happen.”

“That makes you very happy,” Gimble said.

“Ha, yeah,” Elliot said, looking away. “I’ve always liked monsters, at least when they’re not chasing me.”

“I bet seeing a Sounder for the first time was exciting.”

“The tall guys? It’s just getting overwhelming, honestly.”

Gimble nodded. “I feel that.” She handed Elliot a coffee cup and a cookie on a plate. “Peanut butter.”

Elliot made a sound that would never be construed as language, but still clearly meant subdued joy.

Gimble pulled a stool up to her counter and sat with Elliot, folding her hands together. “Tell me about being a Lockesmith.”

Elliot looked up, her eyes wide. She tried to chew her way through half a cookie. “Ha ha, god that’s such a dumb name.”

“You enjoy it,” Gimble said, a statement of fact.

“I kind of hate that I like it.” She took a moment to think. “He disappeared on camera. No one knows why. How could you not be curious about that?”

Gimble leaned in closer. “Things are happening,” she said, a little quieter. “We don’t think they’re coincidence.”

“What?”

“Locke disappearing. That banshee. Those are just two of the things that shouldn’t have happened. The soda machine on Capitol Hill disappeared.”

Elliot swallowed hard. “What?? How?”

“No one knows. It left a note, though. ‘Went for a walk’.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Gimble said. “And that boy that’s been following you. It could mean a couple of things, but I believe he is part of all of this. The covens in the area all know something is happening. We want to find out what.”

Elliot considered this. “Okay. I get it. I want in.”

Gimble smiled broadly. “Yes? You’d like to join us?”

“You seem like your heart is in the right place,” Elliot said. “And if you’re planning to kill me, that’s like a bonus.”

“I know you’re joking, but please don’t, not about that. We’re so happy to have you.”

“I’m not hearing that you aren’t planning to kill me…”

Gimble took Elliot’s hand in her own. “I promise we will take care of you. No killing. You’re too valuable to us to lose.” She patted Elliot’s hand. “Unless you fuck your magic up, then we will vaporize you like a gamer pulling some serious cotton.”

“I… I don’t know what that means,” Elliot said.

Gimble leaned over and hugged her. “I’m so happy you’re joining us. Let’s start training this weekend.”

Elliot agreed. She finished her cookie, and thought a moment. Her ear twitched. “I pushed someone down the stairs. That’s why I had quit college.”

Gimble propped her chin up with her hand and listened.

“There was this bully, he always could see me, no matter what. He would follow me around between classes in college, just berating me. Just saying the worst things. He never hit me, but he never had to. I was… I am weird. I give off a weird vibe I think? I’m spooky and I like monsters and… and I look too much like a boy. And so he made sure I knew.

“I ran away when I pushed him down the stairs in our dorms. The thing was, I was in my room, behind a locked door when it happened. He was outside my door and all I could think about is him falling down the stairs an the next thing I knew…” Elliot held her chin shut a moment, looking away from Gimble. “Also, somehow, he caught on fire.

“At first I was sure no one would be able to pin that on me, but everyone was talking. So in the middle of the night I packed up everything I could carry and fled. I caught the train in Spokane and came over here where no one knew me.”

Gimble reached out and took Elliot’s hand in hers. “There’s no need to be ashamed. Or afraid. You are and will always be safe with us. You are not a burden or anyone to be ashamed of.”

Elliot’s ears twitched. Gimble had pushed several buttons very quickly with what she had just said.

“I do find the fire very impressive, though,” Gimble added with a slight sparkle in her eye. Elliot didn’t laugh, but she did smile, just a little.

That night, Gimble sent Elliot away with a bag full of cookies, and two containers of home made dumplings and stir fry. They opened a door to Z’s apartment, said their goodbyes, and suddenly Elliot was back in the central district. She longed for nothing more than the couch, and before Z could say anything, she collapsed on it, falling asleep almost instantly.

When she awoke in the morning, she found she had been covered up with a blanket. And for a moment, she felt peaceful.

[g]

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