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Elliot had been flying, a little bit at a time, always with supervision. When she had gone out with Gimble, they had flown in short hops: from the island to the mainland, over a hill that would have been a hike, across a river, until they had made it to their destination. But they had never gone for too long. Even when she had run from the banshee, it was a sprint, a carefully launched arc, with a clumsy landing on a roof. But she wasn’t flying for long.

So, little by little, every night, Elliot went flying. She got a partner every time. Ty was happy to fly along on the weekends, coaching her on how to control her stamina, easing her into longer and longer distances, leading Elliot to discover tricks she had known all along. During the week, Z was happy to help, and their trips usually had a destination in mind, like Cassie’s, or flying over Pioneer Square, as if to let Ardy catch a glimpse of Elliot. And sometimes she got Meryl, who happily darted back and forth, as if not to stay in any one place, urging Elliot to keep up. Before long, Elliot could fly from Vashon, over the sound to the mainland, over Harbor Island, and up through the city to the Space Needle, and then do it all back again. She broke a sweat, and she stopped to rest sometimes, but she could do it.

That night, she decided to make a solo trip. She told Gimble, of course, told her what path she was going to take, and how long she expected to be. Gimble patted her arm, encouraging her on, and slipped a thermos of tea into her bag. Before she took off, Elliot held the thermos close, looking up at the clouds above her. Somewhere behind there, the moon was waxing ever on, rolling closer to a full moon, just in time for Halloween.

Magic.

Elliot took a quiet path through the city, one she knew was darker than other paths, that sent less light to the sky. She made sure her clothes weren’t reflective, so she wasn’t seen, and if she was, who could be sure that wasn’t just a clump of bats? Who could say? She didn’t wear her headphones, because being able to hear the city this high up was intoxicating. She skipped along the rooftops of downtown, past fancy office buildings and fancier condos, pausing at the library to return a book — there was a drop box on the roof, and Elliot was endlessly fascinated by this. Whoever checked that box had to have been a witch themselves, and she realized it made her a little vulnerable. Who deposits their book on the roof? But then again, witches weren’t real, and especially witches that worked for the Seattle library system, don’t be silly. And finally, she came to a rest on top of the Space Needle, in a dark spot close to the spire on top, and took it all in, took in the city, and the city glowed back at her.

Things were becoming easier. She could feel the energy she had now, the energy she never knew she could have in her, not magic itself, but motivation, and drive, and, well, contentment. She didn’t feel achingly sad anymore, not as much anyway, except when the mood caught her, but that’s bound to happen, right? She didn’t look forward to waking up in the morning, but she didn’t dread it anymore. She started looking more carefully before she crossed the street. She got plants, and intended to see them grow, season after season.

The magic came out of that. Her slaps radiated better, her spells, as weak as they were, worked, and she rarely misfired them. She could feel life in so many things, from plants to birds, but also to things like the trash can on the corner, silently determined to do a good job, to the broom she flew on, who liked to test her from time to time, until she learned the right way to gently correct it.

It was as if Elliot had opened the pack of crayons, and oil paints as rich as a rainbow fell out. She took a deep breath, taking in the October air, and she felt it. Just a tug, a little tap on the shoulder. Intuition.

Elliot had been working on that too. Gimble had always been the most intuitive of all of them, and she did her best to get Elliot to follow these little tugs. Elliot listened, and she tried to catch them when they showed up. This little tug, though, was just that: a little tug. Still, there was an uneasiness about it, a dread she felt in her bones.

Her phone vibrated. She checked it. A message from Ilo.

Intuition worked!

She read, ‘I’m going to do something really stupid and I need your help’

‘Where are you?’ Elliot asked.

‘Work.’ Lemuria. Elliot could see those towers, not at all that far away. She jumped on her broom and started towards them.

‘Which tower dummy’

‘Delta. It’s right on the corner where the streetcar stop is.’

‘I know it. What floor you on?’

Elliot approached the towers. This late at night, only a few floors were lit up.

’13’

‘Heck yeah’ Elliot eyeballed the thirteenth floor and circled the building. ‘You hiding?’

‘Kind of? Why?’

Elliot spotted Ilo in a cluster of cubicles, trying to look small. A security guard roamed the floor, not even close to Ilo, waited at the elevator, and disappeared. Elliot flew closer.

“Knock knock’

Ilo’s ears perked, and he looked around, until he spotted Elliot hovering outside on her broomstick. When they made eye contact, Elliot smiled, stuck out her tongue, and flipped him off.

‘What’s up nerd?’

‘Omg stfu. Also get away from the window, they’ll see you’

‘Roof access?’

‘Yeah, give me like two minutes’

Elliot circled the tower again, getting speed up to climb to the roof, and waited by the door for Ilo. When he reached the roof, he propped the door open discreetly, carrying a tome.

“Sometimes we have to discharge these, and the roof is the best place to do it,” he said to Elliot. Elliot nodded dutifully.

“So what’s this stupid thing you’re going to do?” She asked, watching him put the book down.

“When did Right Determination get here?” He motioned to a spot against the wall, and then sat down. Elliot stayed standing for a moment, holding her broom, staring down at him, and then sat down next to him.

“A few years before Westerners got here,” she said. “A few years at least.”

Ilo said nothing to this, thinking, looking up at the cloud cover, dark gray from the lights in the sky. “She’s been here a while.”

“Yeah.” Elliot said. She side eyed Ilo. “Why do you care?”

“I found this book and I want her to take a look at it,” Ilo said.

“Is her looking at it the stupid thing?”

Ilo closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall. “You know what, never mind. It’s fine.”

“Ugh, sorry…”

“It’s fine.” He said again. It wasn’t fine.

“No, for real,” Elliot said. “I’m sorry. I’m being shitty. I kind of default to it and I shouldn’t. You asked for my help and I’m sure there’s an important reason why.”

Ilo looked over at Elliot, looking tired, defeated, happy for the company, if only a little. He sighed, considering if he wanted to say anything at all. “I’m quitting soon. I’m sure they suspect it. But I don’t think they suspect how much I’ve been testing them, and like, figuring out their security. I’m going to steal that book, and I’m very scared that I won’t walk away from it.”

“Why steal it? What’s worth that much?”

“Because your demon was around when it was written. She’s probably forgotten a lot about the city, more than I’ll ever know. And I’m willing to bet showing her will jog her memory.”

“Okay, so what?”

“Because I think it has answers, whether she meant it too or not. I think it could answer what we’re doing here, and what the hell is going on in this city.”

Elliot weighed her options. “Look, I’m all for ‘be gay, do crimes,’ but this feels like you’re asking for trouble. And I’m not sure I want any part of that.”

“Fair,” Ilo said. “But there’s one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s her book.”

Elliot sat forward. “It’s her book?”

“She wrote it. And I think took some of the pictures too. But I’m certain she’s in a few of them at least.”

“It’s hers…”

“At the very least, you’ll score some points,” Ilo offered.

“Okay first, I’m one hundred percent sure I don’t need to score points, Ardy is bought in,” Elliot said. “And second, ew. Pervert.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Ilo said, looking innocent.

“So we have to get that book,” Elliot said.

Ilo nodded. “We need a plan.”

Elliot took a deep breath. “Okay, I think we can figure this one out. Can you chill on it for like two days? I need to talk to a few people.”

Ilo nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we’ll come up with something. In the meantime, I think I might use some of that PTO I’ve never touched.”

“Sounds nice,” Elliot said. “Whatcha going to do?”

“Oh, you know, get my will together, tie up some loose ends, play some Mario Kart.”

“Oh dang,” Elliot said.

“You want to come over? I have two pro controllers.”

Elliot laughed. “Look at money bags Ilo over here.”

“That doesn’t sound like a no.”

“Because it wasn’t.” Elliot stood. “But first, planning. Then we’ll see about Mario Kart.” She offered her hand, helping Ilo up.

Wait, was she making a friend? She started to expand this one out, but didn’t get far.

The entire city began to shake.

Elliot was on her broom faster than she could think, ready to lift off if the building under her went away. And it wasn’t until the building stopped shaking when she realized how tightly she was holding on to Ilo. He looked at her, confused, but grateful. He gave her a soft, relieved smile, just a flash, before turning away.

“Thanks, buddy,” he said.

Holy shit, she was making a friend!

On cue, both of their phones came to life, buzzing with messages, people checking in on them. Elliot thumbed through them all, from Meryl, and Z, and Ty, and Gimble. She smiled, feeling properly looked after.

“I should go. My friends are worried.”

“Yeah, same. Text me later.”

“Yeah, totally.” Elliot adjusted her bag, pulling the strap tight across her chest, and lifted off the ground. “Don’t die, okay?”

Ilo’s ears perked, and he looked not entirely sure how to handle that. “Yeah, sure.”

Elliot nodded, and she pushed off, back towards home.

[g]

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The day after Ilo met the witches, he skulked into work, doing his best to keep a low profile. He watched for Braden, the leader of the wizards the night of the confrontation. It seemed quieter than usual, and Ilo was thankful for it. Still, he began to plan his exit from the company. That confrontation was a suspicious failure, and his failure to present a witch after what seemed like a capture was even more suspicious.

But when Ilo had to explain why there was no witch, he said, “They found me. I don’t know how, but they tracked me down and took her back. I was lucky they didn’t kill me.”

“Why didn’t they?” Braden asked.

Ilo thought fast. “Maybe they just wanted her back and that’s it. I dunno.”

Braden thought a moment, then pulled out his phone and thumbed through a notification. “Lucky you.” And he left to file a debrief with the boss.

Aldon James. Ilo had only met him a few times, when his team was first set up, and when Locke disappeared. He was fairly hands off, but he did expect results. And in the weeks after the confrontation, his team wasn’t getting results. Braden was getting nervous, and that made Ilo nervous.

Ilo sent a few emails out, and thought about the future. He thought about the companies in the area, those who might also need wizards. Bubble? Do they need anyone? But he also didn’t want to leave this thread unraveled. Lemuria was dangerous, and though he knew he shouldn’t, he carried the weight of stopping them on his shoulders.

Ilo’s ears twitched in thought. He had an itch, and he needed to get to the archives to scratch it. And to get there, he’d need to run the Labyrinth.

In many ways, the Labyrinth felt like a video game. It wasn’t physical, but there was a path to get to it. He remembered it well, having spent an ever increasing amount of time in the archives since he gained access. His team nominated him, though honestly it felt like they were happy to get rid of him. Joke was on them, he had thought we he first started. Ilo loved the archives, loved the microfiche of old newspapers, and old maps of the city, and of course all of the spell books and tomes of magic he could ever want. He spent hours in the archives, listening to podcasts and studying Seattle history.

Ilo took the stairs down two floors. This was app development. They hardly ever noticed him anymore. He made his way through the cube farm to the elevators. Up to floor 12. A lap around the floor, stairs up to 13, international sales. They always had good coffee up there, and he always grabbed a cup. Coffee in hand, elevator down to floor 9, the server team. He made a simple loop around the elevator column, then down three floors, entering floor 6. And if he had done it right, rather than be in Supply Chain he’d be facing a simple stone wall with a wooden door. It was all for show, of course, the door could have been anything. But the Dungeons and Dragons nerds that made the Labyrinth insisted.

A guard waited by the door, dressed in a uniform like any other security guard, but had a gnarled staff leaning against the wall. He looked up at Ilo, and closed the book he was reading.

“Hey, Ilo,” he said, standing from his seat. “Hitting the mines again, huh?”

“Yeah, I have some things I need to verify.” Ilo stopped in front of him and held out his arms. The security guard waved his staff over Ilo, revealing the magical bits he had on him. His ID card and pen stood out. The security guard pointed to his shoulder bag.

“There’s a book in there,” the guard said.

“It’s my tome,” Ilo said.

“You know we make tablets,” the guard said, laughing. “You could join the Twenty First century with the rest of us. I bet they’d just give you one.”

“I’m a Millennial, I like analog stuff,” Ilo said. “Plus it has cool doodles on it.”

The security guard waved him on. “Can’t beat that. Don’t work too hard in there.”

Ilo waved and moved through the door into the archive. He was alone again, and it was nice. He lived for these days. He unpacked his bag, getting his headphones out, and his tome.

He’d been testing the guard for weeks. He knew that the guard would see the tome. He wanted the guard to see the tome. Every time he went through that check, in and out, he’d have to check that it was actually his tome in the bag. Ilo made sure to drag out the check, until the guard had finally given up. He’d brought the guard coffee, good snacks when they showed up on his floor, pizza and sandwiches and sodas, and the occasional beer, when that happened. The guard always pointed out the book in his bag, but he never checked anymore.

Ilo opened his tome. It was bigger than most of the tomes on the shelves, and Ilo had made every effort to justify its use. There were years of notes in it, about the barriers and the Chamber, but also magical fluctuations on a near day by day basis, on interesting spells from the archives, on weather, because why not. Which is why it almost killed him to cut all of those pages out.

Ilo opened his tome and pulled out the smaller book, a guide to all of the Sasquatches on the Olympic Peninsula. He took it out last week. The guard didn’t notice. Ilo replaced the book on the shelf where it had been. He searched for a new book, on that had started his itch, one he had just remembered. It was light, just bigger than a paperback novel, but still leather-bound, still older than the combined age of his team. There was script on the cover, which notes on the inside claimed was called “Demon Script.” The book was titled simply New Gehenna Almanac 1895, written by “Correct Resoluteness.”

Ilo found the book and opened it. It was full of translations, and Ilo was starting to get good at reading the script, or at least recognizing a few words. It was just notes about a section of Seattle that, as far as he could tell, was washed away during the Denny Regrade. Lists of shops and residents, notes of new arrivals, and happenings in the community. It was so ordinary, so matter of fact that it glossed over that everyone mentioned, with the exception of Doc Maynard, were demons.

He thought of seeing Elliot in the tunnels, seeing the demon with her. He knew Elliot had mentioned her before but he couldn’t remember the name. When had they come here? Were they in New Gehenna when this was written?

He flipped to the back, which had photographs pasted into the book. He could look at these for hours, look at the group shots of demon store owners, and the demon baseball team, which he had been calling ‘The Brimstones,’ and shots of the streets of New Gehenna. All of these things had existed, and were lost to time.

There was another picture too. Several demons stood together, like in the photos of the shopkeeper, but this one was labeled ‘The New Gehenna Benevolent Society.’ A group working, he imagined, for the betterment of their people. It was the background he found compelling, a shot looking out over what was now downtown Seattle, and Puget Sound. There were a few buildings and a lot of hills, all of them having been labeled. But one label had stuck out to him, one that he thought about constantly. It was a label on a hill, bathed in shadows, simply called ‘The Resident.’ He didn’t understand, but he also figured this was a mistranslation. Maybe it’s where a lot of them lived.

Ilo closed the book He thought about the week ahead. He’d have at least one overnight down in the tunnels, mending the barriers. No one in the group wanted to do it, but they didn’t have a choice.

Right Determination. That was the name Elliot said. He turned that over in his head for a moment. It kept poking at him. Translate ideas and not words. And when the words fell into place, Ilo jumped up out of his chair. The book, the little almanac of New Gehenna, had been written not by Correct Resoluteness, but Right Determination.

Why did Lemuria have this book? And did Elliot’s demon give it up willingly? He paced around the room. What did the demon know?

Ilo needed to plan his escape from Lemuria faster. Because, he knew without hesitation, for the good of Seattle, he had to steal that book.

[g]

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Elliot didn’t bother creeping when she went downstairs. There was some life in the house, there always was, and that was welcomed. It made her feel safer. Elliot had grown used to living in the city, near the rumbling of the light rail, the constant coming and going of cars and people and seagulls near the bay, and the distant foghorns of the ferries. Some of that was on the island, not all of it, and what was gone stood out like a mental knife jab while Elliot was trying to sleep. The noise felt safe, the quiet a threat. Any form of life was good.

Gimble sat in her living room, a book in her hand. However, she had laid it carefully in her lap and she talked quietly with the ghosts — with Morgan and Ethan, Elliot corrected herself. Elliot hesitated, and then approached. Gimble heard her first, her big ears swiveling, catching her entrance. She turned and offered Elliot a welcoming smile.

“Hello!” Gimble said. “I didn’t expect to see you up. Come join us.”

Elliot nodded, and she sat down, keeping a little distance from the ghosts.

“Are you not sleeping?” Gimble asked. “I bet I could make you something for that.”

“I think it’s the meds,” Elliot said. “They said they were supposed to give me energy. And I have a lot of it right now.”

“Meds?” Morgan said, leaning forward. “Like, for depression?”

Elliot felt her ears drop on her head. “Yeah, like that.”

“Neat!” Morgan said. Which wasn’t what Elliot had been expecting.

“I could have used that,” Ethan said.

“I really could have used that,” Morgan said, matter of factly. “I could probably be someone’s aunt by now.”

“You’d be the weird aunt,” Ethan said, smiling at Morgan. Elliot couldn’t help how much admiration was in that look. Not romance, just that kind of look one gets when they care about someone.

“I would be the BEST weird aunt,” Morgan said, full of energy.

“Uhm,” Elliot started, picking out the words she wanted to say carefully. “How… how did you… go?”

“Oh,” Morgan said. “Suicide.”

“I’m so sorry,” Elliot said, unable to speak the words out loud, just a raspy whisper. Bad question. Stupid question!

“I was in a bad place and kind of seemed stuck and honestly I wasn’t thinking straight. So I jumped in front of a subway train in Delta City.”

Elliot gasped.

“Yeah, I don’t recommend it, it hurt like hell.” And in an instant Elliot could see, just enough beyond the form Morgan had to a broken, twisted body. A flash of pain, and then the smiling fox was back. Elliot swallowed that image like a jagged pill.

“So, I could have used some meds. It would have been nice to think straight before I did something I couldn’t take back.”

Ethan raised his hand. “I walked in front of a bus,” he said dryly.

“We’re in the same club!” Morgan said. “Death by mass transportation! We have a secret handshake and everything!”

Ethan looked amused. “I wish I had had meds too. Maybe I would have asked that boy out if I had, instead of pining over him like an idiot.”

“You’d never. You could never stop pining,” Morgan said. Ethan pushed her playfully.

“You don’t need to sell me on the medication,” Elliot said. “I took it. I’m all for it.”

“We’re excited,” Morgan said. “We messed up and chose badly, and if we had been thinking better, we probably wouldn’t be here.”

“You seem fine now,” Elliot said.

“Time has helped a lot,” Ethan said. “There’s been time to process things.”

“I don’t have brain chemistry anymore!” Morgan beamed.

Gimble, who had been watching quietly from her spot on the couch, finally spoke. “How have you been feeling?”

Elliot considered this. “Better? Better, I think. Like I know I just started today, but I feel like it’s changing me already.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Gimble said.

“But that’s bullshit, right? That’s just, like, a placebo? Like, how could I be feeling something I just started taking?”

Gimble nodded. “Do you feel better?”

“Yeah… yeah, I do, actually.”

“Do you feel like the medication is working?”

“…Yeah.”

“Then who cares if it’s a placebo effect or not?”

Elliot started to speak, and faltered.

“The important thing is that you feel better. The important thing is that you want to stick around for a while.”

“Yeah…” Elliot said.

Gimble looked up at the ghosts. “If you will excuse us, I’d like to talk to Elliot.”

Morgan and Ethan both stood.

“You got it,” Morgan said. “Goodnight, Elliot!”

“I hope you get to sleep!” Ethan said.

The ghosts retreated into the house, and they were gone before Elliot knew it. She shuddered, but she felt better about them. They mystique was gone, just a little.

“I promise that you are not in trouble,” Gimble said. She stood too, smoothing out her skirt, and motioned to the kitchen. “May I make you some tea?”

Elliot nodded and followed Gimble to the kitchen. Gimble put her kettle on and began to take tea things out of the cupboards.

“I felt your anxiety spike,” Gimble said. “You’re not in trouble. In fact, I would like to apologize to you.”

“What?” Elliot said. “Me? You? I’m the fuck up here.”

Gimble placed a plate in front of Elliot, a nice selection of pastries on it. “We did a bad job of listening to you. We are all here because we have been through this before. And we wanted to help you. But you were telling us what you needed, and we weren’t paying attention.”

“I still hurt Meryl,” Elliot said. “I could have killed her.”

“A situation that was entirely avoidable had we listened to you in the first place.”

Elliot started to protest, but Gimble stopped her.

“You told me directly that you were worried about your safety. I told you to avoid confrontation. What I did not do is address the actual concern about safety. Meryl filled the void because she was trying to help you. And Meryl is very good at that, but Meryl also has differing ideas about how to go about things, very much informed by her own witch upbringing.”

“I don’t want her to get in trouble because of me,” Elliot said.

Gimble gave her a soft smile. “She has not and will not. Like I said, she meant the best for you. That’s something I should have been leading on.”

Elliot nodded. “I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t need to say anything. I am very sorry for not listening to you, and we all want to make things right.”

Elliot nodded. She thought for a long moment. “Can we start over?”

“Start over?” Gimble sat back and studied her.

“I want to start over with my training. I think I started badly. And like, I feel better than I used to. I feel like things are different.”

“That sounds like a smart way to do this. But you know how to fly decently, and I think you have a handle on spells.”

“I would love to work on spells more,” Elliot said. “I will beg if I have to.”

“Noted,” Gimble said. “I will put spells on this list.” Gimble stood to collect the kettle, which began to whistle on the stove. She poured water into a tea pot and set it on the table between them. “But let me ask you this: what do you want to learn?”

Elliot sat back. She thought about Locke, and the Chamber, and the wizards, and learning wizard spells with Ilo. She thought about the walkers in the sound, and the banshee, and the ghosts upstairs. And she thought about Ardy, waiting patiently for her.

“Teach me how to think like a witch,” Elliot said.

Gimble considered this. “In what way do you mean?”

“I mean, there has to be more than looking for spells and reading crystals or whatever. There has to be something else to it. What does a coven mean? What actions should we be taking? Like, are people saying something without saying it? Is that a thing?”

“What is going on in the tunnel downtown?” Gimble added.

Elliot’s ears perked, and then sank. She looked away. “Yeah… maybe that too. That is a thing to consider.”

Gimble sat in silence for a moment, staring out the dark windows in the kitchen. And then she said, “Maybe we need to call Ilo and see for ourselves…”

[g]

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Ilo watched Elliot pack up her notes. They sat in Cassie’s, in one of the more visible tables in the place. Elliot never liked being out in the open, but this suited the situation. Ilo wasn’t going to do anything, of course, Elliot told herself. She knew that logically, but she wanted to be sure.

Not that they could do much anyway. Cassie had the place locked down with charms so tight that beyond the most benign magic, their spells would fizzle and then fall apart. So they traded notes, talked about spells. Elliot recapped the week behind her, of getting up early with Gimble to tend to the garden, and collect the morning sun, and read the day through divination. Gimble quietly threw three dollar coins on her table, and wrote down the results in her grimoire. Then she showed Elliot how to read the lines she had drawn, where the changed, and what those changes meant. They made spells together, and Elliot learned a bit of kitchen magic, making food that would enrich its consumers in so many ways.

Gimble also taught her the magic of food itself, that food was an expression of love, that giving someone a meal was you trying to help keep someone alive, and how could that not be love. One night, after the moon had risen, Gimble and Elliot flew over the city, dropping meals with the unhoused, dozens of meals. They were caught by cops, who chased them down an alley. When Gimble and Elliot turned a sharp corner, Gimble took Elliot’s hand, and they all but walked up the side of a building, perching on its roof to watch the bewildered cops look for them. Gimble laughed, harder that Elliot had ever seen her laugh, just pure joy at what they had just done.

And now, exhausted at the end of the week, Elliot finished her trade with Ilo. Their meets were still a little tense, but Ilo seemed happy to be there all the same, and he offered to buy coffee, which was nicer than Elliot had expected him to be.

“Do you need a ride share?” Ilo asked, checking his phone. It was well after two in the morning, after all.

“Uhm…” Elliot said. “I actually feel safer walking?” She said, zipping up her hoodie.

“Yeah, that’s probably fair,” Ilo nodded. He began sliding various scraps of paper into his own spell book — he kept correcting himself to ‘grimoire’ — and slipped his pen into its little pen holder on the side of the book. Elliot had finally cracked the grimoire Ardy had given her, trying to make her penmanship look good for its pages. She wrote slowly, and Ilo had waited patiently for her to catch up each time.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Ilo said.

“Yeah,” Elliot said, stretching. “No probs. Same time next week?”

Ilo nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Cool.” And Elliot walked away from the table.

On her way out of Cassie’s, Arie caught up to her.

“You leaving?” Arie asked. “We didn’t have time to chat though!”

Elliot made sure she got out of the room the Nerd — Ilo, she reminded herself — was in, so that he couldn’t see her and Arie chatting. She held the strap of her bag tight, not really realizing it at first.

“I don’t have a lot to chat about?” Elliot said. “You’ve seen all of this stuff before.”

“But you haven’t,” Arie said sweetly.

Elliot considered this. “Maybe some other time?” That had been hard to say, but when Arie’s face lit up, she felt the serotonin hit.

“Yeah yeah!” Arie said. “You can tell me all about it. You like coffee? We can go get coffee somewhere!”

Elliot laughed. “Yeah, that sounds cool. Do you… do you sleep?”

“Usually during the day, why?”

“No reason.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, anxious to… well, be alone? Maybe that wasn’t the best instinct either? Maybe it was? More things to consider.

Arie peeked into the room where Elliot and Ilo had been studying. “Is he still there?”

“Uhm, I think so?”

She watched Arie search the room, his ears alert, his tail standing out behind him.

“You should go say hi,” Elliot said.

Arie blushed. “Yeah, I think I will.” He hugged Elliot. “Text me about coffee, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Arie grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her dead in the eyes. “Don’t flake out on me.”

“Why does everyone think I’m going to?” Elliot asked.

Arie just stared.

“I’ll text! I promise!” Elliot said.

“Okay, good. Bye Elliot!” And he ducked into the other room, making a bee line for Ilo’s table.

Elliot sighed, and left Cassie’s.

The night was, of course, more welcoming, less demanding. It didn’t want her energy, just to quietly co-exist with her. Elliot appreciated the night, and she did her best to spend time with it when she could.

She was grateful for the companionship she was getting now. She had friends that cared about her, wanted to spend time with her, but sometimes it felt like too much. Even so, they respected when she needed to disappear, when she needed to flee to the turret of Gimble’s house and lock herself away. It was nice, and Elliot felt lucky for what she had. There was just this… feeling she couldn’t shake. Or maybe it was a lack of a feeling. Hmm.

The turret was nice. Elliot had what basically amounted to a apartment all to herself. She had a wardrobe and sitting area on the second floor, where she entered, a bathroom above that, and her bedroom above that. She was above the rest of the house, and she could see in all directions, just above the trees and out over the sound. She had already spent her evenings staring up at stars through her bedroom windows, and sometimes watching the sun rise. Meryl had already planned a day for them to go find stuff for her bedroom.

Elliot was about halfway to her bus stop when she felt the fur stand up on the back of her neck. This was something that Gimble had been working on with her — letting her intuition speak when it needed to. Right now, it was shouting at her. Elliot stopped in her tracks, and turned slowly.

Behind her, maybe twenty feet back, a banshee also froze, as if doing so would make it invisible to Elliot. It looked at her, its eyes unreadable. Elliot felt her heart rate skyrocket, her pulse surging through her veins. Everything in her body was telling her to run, to summon her broom and get out of there. But Gimble’s voice was taking over. What would Gimble do in this situation? She din’t have a jar of pennies to shake at it.

Elliot raised her hand over her head slowly, calling to her broom. The banshee let out a low grumble, but it didn’t move forward. With her free hand, she pointed at the banshee.

“Stay back,” she said, her voice quaking.

The banshee grumbled again, but it didn’t move. It tilted its head at her, like a puppy hearing a new sound for the first time. Which gave Elliot an idea. She drew her intentions up carefully, making sure she had the right ideas in place. And then she pointed again and said, “sit!”

The banshee’s back end dropped, and it sat up alert, watching carefully, as if she had a treat for it.

Elliot let out a surprised laugh, stifled as best she could. She held her breath for a moment, her ears twitching in thought. She was almost sure she knew what this meant, almost. She tried again. “Down!”

The banshee laid down on the ground, looking like a haggard sphynx.

Elliot could hear the broom rustling to her. She held her stance, standing firm against the banshee, who only watched her, tilting its head every so often. As soon as the broom hit her hand, she jumped on it and darted into the sky.

Thank god she had had entirely too much cake that night.

The banshee howled after her. Even at altitude, the sound pierced Elliot’s ears, and she grimaced. It followed her on the street, watching her and howling.

Elliot cut across the streets, flying at an angle that she knew would be hard for it to keep up. She was also aware that, despite her practice, her range was low, and she’d have to come down sooner or later. She searched her position, spotting the lights of Broadway to her 2 o’clock, and she pointed herself in that direction. She went over all the buildings on the street, and tried to pick out one to perch on.

Elliot felt herself sinking as she arrived at Broadway. She found an apartment building, one that was five or six stories high, and landed, crumbling to a stop. She sprawled out on the roof, panting, feeling dizzy with exhaustion. Her body ached from exertion, but she was safe. She laughed, almost liked Gimble had at outrunning the cops. It was a high she hadn’t felt before.

The banshee wailed. Elliot bolted upright. That was really close. Too close. She got to her feet, holding her broom tight. The banshee wailed again, and Elliot spun, just in time to see it drag itself onto the roof.

“Oh COME ON!” Elliot said. She forced herself into a stance again, trying to will her intentions back. She pointed and-

The banshee lunged at her.

Elliot shouted, stumbled backwards, and fell off the roof. Her broom caught her, lowering her to the ground, dropping her in the middle of the street. A car skidded to a stop in front of her, and Elliot squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the impact.

“I thought that was you!” The driver of the car shouted.

Oh come on, Elliot thought.

“Get in!”

Elliot wasn’t going to argue. She pulled open the passenger door, threw her broom in the back, and fell into the car. She pulled the door closed just as the banshee landed on the sidewalk next to them. The driver peeled out, speeding down Broadway. Elliot could make out the blue and red lights bouncing off the buildings around them from the car.

“I saw you fly over,” Agent Lebeux said. “I figured you wouldn’t be so conspicuous if you weren’t in trouble.”

“You figured right,” Elliot said, looking back as the banshee disappeared into the distance.

“You okay?” Agent Lebeux asked.

Elliot finally managed to pull her seatbelt on. “Yeah. Thanks.” She thought a moment. “You’re not taking me in, right?”

“Nah,” the agent said. “Just protecting one of my own.”

“That’s weird and I don’t like that you called me that,” Elliot said.

“Look, I don’t want to get all Us vs Them but it kind of feels that way right now. You know Aldon James?”

“The Lemuria guy? Not, like, personally.”

“Something’s going on with him, too. Something’s going on with Lemuria and I can’t quite figure it out.”

Elliot considered this a moment. She didn’t trust cops, but there was common interest here. Right? And that probably counted for something.

“They’re wizards,” Elliot said.

“Wizards?”

“Remember a few weeks ago? On University?”

Agent Lebeux nodded. “That explains a lot.”

“They want something in the tunnel. The Nerd told me that-”

“Are you on speaking terms now?”

Elliot folded her arms over her chest. “That’s complicated. But he said they’re working on something down there. He puts up barriers or something.”

“What’s down there?” Agent Lebeux asked.

“Not sure. He doesn’t even know. But whatever it is, Lemuria wants it. He said he thinks we need to stop them.”

“Ominous.”

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

For a moment, Agent Lebeux said nothing, just driving north. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Elliot said. “Thanks for asking.”

“Where am I taking you?”

The question hit Elliot in the chest. The answer came immediately, where she wanted to go. Very suddenly, she wanted to see Ardy. She knew if she asked, Ardy would hug her, would hold her close until she stopped shaking. She longed for her touch.

This was a very new feeling.

But there was someone else, someone she knew would help her make sense of everything, even this early in the morning.

—-

Rory set a mug down in front of Elliot and poured tea. Elliot slumped in her chair, suddenly very tired. Saxnōt sat on his perch, looking for all the world annoyed to be awake this early. Elliot looked at him, and he hissed at her.

“Hi, Saxnōt,” Elliot said, smiling a little.

“Hey,” Rory said, their voice coming out of the crow, a switch that was still very jarring for Elliot, “you arsehole, be nice to Elliot. She’s had a rough night.”

Saxnōt hunched on his perch.

“So it was following you?” Rory asked, sitting down with their own cup of tea.

“Kind of? Like it was a lost pet or something.” She took a long drink of tea. Once again, Rory had broken out the good stuff for her. She felt… like it was too much? But it was nice all the same.

“So like, the weird thing was, it started listening to me.”

Rory rested their chin in their hand. “Listened to you? What did you do?”

“I told it to sit.”

Rory cracked a smile. “You didn’t!”

“It seemed like the right thing to do? Like, it made sense at the time.”

“And it listened.”

“Yeah,” Elliot said, looking down at her hands. Steam twisted gently off of her tea. “I… I don’t know what it means.”

“I have ideas,” Rory said simply.

Elliot nodded slowly. “Yeah, I kind of figured you would. That’s why I’m here.”

“Well, that and the cop that brought you here.”

“How did you-?” Elliot stopped herself. Right, right, right. She grunted. “Yeah, she brought me here.”

“Friend of yours?”

“No.”

Rory took a sip of their tea. “Do you like monsters?”

“I’ve always liked monsters,” Elliot said. “As far back as I can remember.”

“What attracts you to them?”

Elliot hesitated, because why would Rory even care? But also, that’s why she’s here, isn’t it? Because she knew Rory would listen.

“They make me feel good,” Elliot said softly. “They don’t judge me, they don’t ask me to be anything I’m not.”

Rory sat silently, holding their cups, swirling the tea in it gently.

Elliot swallowed, realizing they’ve fallen into a therapy session. “They’re like…”

“Like you.”

“When I was growing up, I was always a burden to someone. I was their disappointment, or their mistake, or their shame. And maybe they didn’t realize they were telling me, but they told me I was bad, I was evil, I was going to hell.”

“You were a monster.”

Elliot pulled her knees up to her chest. “So maybe the Skinwalker is out there, and maybe we have a lot in common, and maybe they wouldn’t care that I was like them.”

“Is that the attraction to Ardy?”

Elliot opened her mouth to respond. Her ears twitched in thought. “…I don’t think it hurts.” She frowned. “That’s not why I’m interested!”

Rory smiled and patted Elliot’s hand. “I’m just poking at you.”

Elliot narrowed her eyes and looked away, her ears dropping on her head. “I’m not, like, a monster fucker or anything.”

“How’d you know until a few months ago?”

“I have regrets coming here,” Elliot said.

Rory grinned, and took a moment to refill their team. “You did come here for a reason.”

“Yeah,” Elliot said. “I’m still figuring things out, but… I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Rory leaned forward. “Elliot…”

“You know what I learned tonight? Ilo taught me how to make a healing potion. Like, a potion that will actually heal a person, even if it’s just a little, even just to close up wounds. That’s incredible, isn’t it?”

Rory nodded.

“You know what I feel? Nothing. I don’t feel anything. I’m just numb. I have friends, and people who are nice to me, and a girlfriend, and most of the time I just feel… Nothing. I just feel nothing all the time. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel like I should be crying but I can’t, because it’s just not in me.”

“I think,” Rory said slowly, “that this is something that you need to talk to Gimble about. She’s qualified to make a judgement on that.”

Elliot said nothing to this. She nodded.

“I like seeing this level of introspection,” Rory said. “You’re going in the right direction, and this is a very good step towards taking care of yourself. Things feel impossible right now, but you’re moving forward.”

Elliot considered this. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“I love to listen to you,” Rory said. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I want you to come and visit. This should be an exciting time for you, and I’m sorry it temporarily isn’t.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t have, like, a tea or a potion or something, to be honest,” Elliot said.

Rory tilted their head. “I am many things, but what I am not is a doctor.”

“Fair.”

Rory patted Elliot hand, and then stood. They disappeared into the back of their shop, and came back carrying a pillow and some blankets.

“I’m going to make up the couch for you. You’re welcome to sleep as long as you want.”

Elliot nodded. “Thanks.”

Rory left to go prepare the couch. Elliot sipped her team, watching Saxnōt watch her. She was certain Rory was watching too. That was fine. Maybe she needed someone watching her. Maybe that was okay.

Elliot slept soundlessly, peacefully. She wouldn’t remember the dreams she had, not of the Chamber or of crows spinning in a whirlwind of birds and feathers and shouts, or of falling from a great height into water. She would remember the dream of her in her turret, looking out over the sound to Ardy, in her own tower, the both of them very alone.

[g]

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