Pacific NorthWitch 06

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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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Pacific NorthWitch 05

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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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Pacific NorthWitch 04

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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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Pacific NorthWitch 03

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When Elliot came to Seattle, she reluctantly found roommates, and they reluctantly accepted her into their home. The other three, Carrie, Melinda, and Judy, all had gone to Washington State University together, and when they graduated they naturally gravitated to Seattle for work and culture and all of the things a hip city attracted the young and social to. They all shared a townhouse in the Rainier Beach neighborhood — “the ghetto,” Elliot’s roommates whispered excitedly to each other, all three human, and light skinned, except for Judy, who was Vietnamese American. Elliot had once asked them why they called it that, and they mumbled something about being on MLK and the kind of people who live on MLK.

“Oh, so like, racism,” Elliot said. That was the end of the conversation. It was also one of the better conversations she had with them. The rest of the time, especially on the weekends, it was one loud party after another. This had not come up when they talked before Elliot joined them. What had come up was “Oh, we went to Wazzu, so you know what that means.” Elliot had not. She had not known what that meant.

They gave Elliot what they called “the Murder Room.” She was on the ground floor with the garage, which meant she was also the first room any murderer would come across before venturing upstairs. It was damp and a little musty, and sometimes smelled a little like car exhaust from Melinda’s car, but it was nice enough. She had a sliding glass door that opened up to a tiny patch of yard, which meant light and fresh air when it was nice enough. She had done her best to make it her own, with posters of her favorite cryptids on the wall — Sasquatch and the Flatwoods Monster and the Fresno Nightwalkers, and of course Mothman. She also had an attached bathroom with a shower, which meant she rarely had to leave when there were parties, just as long as the wifi was working.

Elliot slipped into her room, using the sliding door instead of the front door. She left the door unlocked, open just a little to let air in, but held mostly shut by a jimmy bar. She looked around, up and down the back of the townhouses, and pointed discretely at the jimmy bar. She waited until she could feel it, and flicked her wrist. The bar popped out of the door track, and Elliot slipped inside.

She wasn’t supposed to be able to do that, of course. She discovered it on accident when she was young, so young that she really couldn’t pin down when she had learned it. She replaced the bar, dropped her bag by the door, and collapsed on her bed.

Elliot went over everything in her head. She put losing her job upfront, because that was probably the important part. She’d have to update her resume again, and she groaned. At 26, she had cultivated a fine selection of service jobs, and losing her last job would make five jobs in the last four years. That wasn’t her fault. What had been available to her had been garbage, barely over minimum wage. Kingway, the last job she had, had felt like she was going somewhere. She worked in an office with other young professionals, could quietly come and go when she please — Zerina was always happy to clock out for her, which she knows was super against the rules, but Kingway was paying her a reluctant fifteen dollars an hour, Seattle minimum wage, and minimum wage meant minimum effort. And of course, now her whole office was out of work.

But the other things too started to creep back into her head. How had she disturbed a banshee’s nest? She was just walking in Pioneer Square when it came out of nowhere. The woman from the night before said she knows why the banshee was attracted to her. She didn’t believe it.

A door in her mind opened, one she had shut ages ago. She remembered her old house, the one she had grown up in. It had been an old farm house, and the neighborhood had grown around it. It had been at least a hundred years old, creaking out its story every night as it settled down to sleep with the rest of them. She remembered being alone in the house, the things that moved in the corners of her periphery. She had figured it was because she had stayed up late so much. But she had also locked away the time she decided to try to see the things just outside of her vision. Her parents found her that night hiding behind the couch, the claw marks on her face still bleeding. They didn’t believe her, of course, chalking it up to the burrow lizards that always interfered with their garden.

She never sought to disturb those things again. She closed the door on that memory, but retained the lesson. She sat up in her bed, shaking. Carefully, she crept to the bathroom and splashed her face with water.

Elliot looked at herself in the mirror. How many times had she seen something she had ignored? How much had she locked away because she didn’t want to think about it. Was Mothman in there? She’d be so mad if she locked Mothman away.

And she thought about the nerd on the train. What had he wanted? The phrase Out of Town kept repeating in her head. Was he from Out of Town. Was she?

For a moment, she sat on her bed, staring down at her phone. She knew what the next step was, she just didn’t want to. She resented that she had to.

She texted Zerina. “We need to talk about Out of Town.”

Elliot watched the typing indicator pulse, trying to push her shaking out of herself.

“OMG I’ve been waiting for this,” Zerina texted back.

“What does it mean?”

“You know what it means ;3”

“Don’t you winky face me. I’ve been through too much in the last day.”

“Okokok I’ll be over in like four seconds.”

Elliot looked around. “You’re not like actually here, are you?”

“Look in your bathroom…”

Elliot stood and carefully kept back to her bathroom, pushing the door open slowly.

It was empty.

“Just kidding, I’ll have to bus it. Want to meet somewhere? I know a few good places.”

Elliot sighed. “Yeah, wherever. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Zerina sent her a location, just off of 23rd in the Central District. “See you there.”

Elliot stared at her phone, at the little location dot on the map. She turned it off, grabbed her bag and a toaster pastry from under her bed, and left the townhouse.

[g]

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Pacific NorthWitch 02

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Officially, Elliot was not under arrest. Officially, she was a witness, and the police wanted a statement. Officially, they could keep her there for days and no one would miss her.

Elliot waited in the cramped interrogation room. She knew how this would work, and she opted to nap instead of sweating out when the detectives would show up. The door opened with the smell of stale cigarettes and staler coffee. She didn’t bat an eye, but her ears perked as the chair across from her was pulled out. Elliot lifted her head, meeting the gaze of the cat in front of her.

The cat was orange, with a inverted white V of fur running from the top of her head to down below her neck. She wore a dark blue suit and looked well composed for stupid o’clock in the morning.

“You’re not my lawyer,” Elliot said.

“I am not,” the cat said. She opened a manilla folder and began to examine the papers inside. “Technically, under the Hunter Act of 1799 I don’t have to get you a lawyer. But you’re not a suspect, we just want a statement from you, and then you’ll be free to go.”

“So,” Elliot started, “I’m not an idiot, I know how this works. Get me a lawyer.”

The cat tilted her head at Elliot. “I forgot to introduce myself.” She retrieved a badge from her pocket. “Special Agent Gabrielle Lebeaux, Homeland Security.”

“What part?” Elliot would have crossed her arms over her chest if not for the handcuffs. Special Agent Lebeaux raised an eyebrow at the cuffs. She dug in her pocket and produced a key, and unlocked them. Elliot rubbed her wrists.

“Department of Extranormal Circumstances.”

“So what, like shitty X-Files?” Elliot said.

“That’s right, the really crappy ones,” the agent conceded.

Elliot stood. Agent Lebeaux watched her carefully.

“I’m not under arrest,” Elliot said. “I’ve been up since five o’clock yesterday. I want to go home.”

“I just need to know what you saw,” the agent said. “I promise you’re not in trouble.”

Elliot took a step back from the table, still rubbing her wrists. She considered this.

“Let me show you what we have,” the agent said. She pulled a photo from her briefcase. It was a blurry picture of Elliot and the woman, and the thing, but that was barely in focus. Elliot tried to concentrate on the thing, but her head started to hurt.

“Look,” Elliot said, “I can’t explain to you what this is.”

“That is you, is it not?” The agent asked.

Elliot stared.

“With evidence like this, we could charge you for releasing a banshee into a population center.”

Elliot’s ears twitched. “What do you do at the Department of Extranormal Circumstances…?”

“Crappy X-Files,” the agent said.

“She called it a banshee too. I thought those were fake. Like stories.”

“What else did she tell you?”

“Just that. And that someone from Scotland brought them over?” Elliot thought a moment. “I don’t even know her name. I don’t… This isn’t about the monster, is it?”

The agent raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, so clearly you know more about this than I do. I don’t even remember how this happened. One minute I’m in Pioneer Square, and the next I’m running from an actual banshee, which I’m told in actuality ARE SHY.”

“Not really the nesting season for them either,” Agent Lebeaux said.

Elliot threw her hands up in the air.

“Nevermind the monster,” the agent said.

“So then who is she?”

“Wrong question.”

Elliot folded her arms over her chest.

“My question for you is, what is her interest in you?”

“I don’t know,” Elliot said. She turned away from the agent.

“You attracted a banshee. Did she tell you why?”

Elliot didn’t answer.

“But you know why.”

“No, I don’t.” Elliot turned back to her. “And I am invoking my constitutional right to a lawyer.” She sat down on the chair, her arms still crossed, and started hard at the agent.

“No need for that,” the agent said. “You’re free to go.” The agent stood up. “I appreciate your time today, Elliot. I’ll escort you out of the station.” She gently but firmly guided Elliot through the police station, and a moment later they were standing on Pine. The agent handed her a card. “If you see anything else weird, call me.”

Elliot gave a half-hearted nod and set off into the city.

The morning sun cast pink light onto the clouds over the trees. Cal Anderson Park was still, and she could meander across Pine, hurrying only at the slightest threat of a number 10 bus, gliding down the street, its trolley poles sparking every so often. The Link would open soon, and she thought of nothing but crawling into bed, pulling the blanket over her head, and sleeping for like eight days.

Her phone vibrated. Elliot checked her messages. The sole message was from Zerina. She opened it.

“How was your night :3”

Elliot wanted to chuck her phone across the park.

“How did you even find a banshee nest?”

Elliot stopped. She nearly dropped her phone. A thousand questions barreled through her mind, a thousand doors opened. A thousand obvious answers reappeared, and waved at her.

Shaking, Elliot responded, “afdagrrega.”

Zerina’s reply: “>:3”

“How long? HOW LNOG?”

“>:3c”

Elliot collapsed onto a bench. “When I see you again I’m going to punch you in the throat.”

“Honk honk”

A car pulled up to the curb in front of her. It was an old BMW from the 70s, the realization of trapezoidal design, and a maroon Elliot was sure made sense at the time. The window rolled down and its passenger hung out of the side. Elliot didn’t look up. She didn’t want or need to.

“Get in, loser, we’re going to Beth’s!”

Elliot moaned, and looked up, right at Zerina’s smile.

“You promised me a punch,” Zerina said.

“I did.” Elliot held up her fist. “Get ready, here it comes.”

Zerina opened her door and got out, letting down the seat so Elliot could climb into the back. Elliot felt her shoulders go slack, and dutifully climbed in the back of the car.

She didn’t know what else to do.

Also, there were bacon waffles to be had. So there was that.


Beth’s was always open, and surprisingly crowded for this early in the morning. Zerina asked for crayons and paper right away, and began doodling as soon as they arrived. Ty had driven them there, and she sat next to Zerina in their booth. Ty was wolf, but her large ears and big fluffy tail betrayed some fox in her too. She was tall, her headfur cut close to her head, and she sipped her coffee confidently. She gave Elliot a friendly smile and said, “Sorry about the job.”

Elliot shrugged. “It happens. I’m sure I’ll find something at Lemuria or something.”

“I’ve heard they suck to work for,” Ty said. “Like, they’re a very ‘oh, you don’t want to work 70 hours a week’ sort of place.”

“What else am I going to do with my life?” Elliot asked.

“Literally anything else,” Zerina said, sketching out a sun on her paper. “None of us were born to work, pay bills, and die.”

“Hmm,” Elliot said. “You’re right, that could cut into my YouTube time.” She sat back as her bacon waffles arrived, watching hungrily. She wasted no time tearing into them.

“We’ll find you something,” Ty said. “Are you good at cars? Vic is always looking for Out of Towners.” Her ears twitched, and she looked around. Elliot’s ears perked. Ty leaned a little closer, and quietly said, “you are from Out of Town, right?”

Zerina elbowed her.

“I mean, this is Seattle,” Elliot said. “Everyone is from out of town.”

“True,” Ty said slowly. “I’m from Gateway City myself.”

“Delta City, Illinwah,” Zerina said. “Well, the crappy suburbs thereof.”

Elliot nodded. “Spokane.”

The conversation died when the rest of the food came. For a moment, Elliot just stared at Zerina. She was too tired to process what should have been obvious. Zerina ignored her, obviously so, and Elliot could feel herself fuming.

She thought about what that woman had said. She already had a guide. They wanted her to join them. And she put together things about Zerina, that she could see her when no one else could, that she knew about the banshee, and that she found her this morning.

Was Ty one of them too? She seemed nice enough, but everything felt so weird right now. If Ty suddenly pulled her face off and revealed herself to be a bird person, Elliot wouldn’t have been surprised.

She knew the answers to her questions and she hated them. So she concentrated on the bacon waffles instead.

Zerina and Ty gossiped about other people, other Out of Towners, Elliot assumed, whatever that meant. Ty talked about Vic’s Garage, where she worked, and it sounded legitimately cool. It was all women and/or LGBTQ people, and if Elliot had a car, she would have taken it there. Elliot didn’t have much to contribute to the conversation, but she was happy to listen, and Zerina and Ty seemed happy to have her.

Zerina finished her picture, a smiling sun sinking below the horizon, behind a cloudy sky. It said, “See you in eight months!” And Elliot remembered Autumn was almost there, and thus Seattle’s wet season. She didn’t mind it so much, actually. It was solid hoodie weather, and compared to where she grew up, she didn’t worry about freezing most of the time, or having to shovel snow off of anything. They stuck around Beth’s a little longer, and drove her back when Ty started to get antsy about getting to work.

They dropped her off at the University station, and Elliot settled into a Link seat, right before the rush hour crowd piled in. She closed her eyes and decided she could nap on the way back home.

As she dozed off, she felt something prickle on the back of her neck. Her fur stood on end, and her eyes shot open. She had felt it before, when that woman had arrived. She scanned her eyes over the passengers on the train, looking at all the women she could see. None of them noticed her, none of them stood out.

Elliot closed her hands into fists. She was sure she was being watched. She just didn’t know who was watching. And by the time they reached Capitol Hill the train was full. She watched the crowd shuffle on, and scanned who stayed behind. This time around she caught someone staring, a nerd in a green jacket. He looked like a dog, chubby with grey fur and darker grey headfur. He wore a pair of glasses on his muzzle, and a bandana around his neck, and he was watching her very carefully.

Elliot’s ears perked. Had he gotten on at the University station? Was he staring because she was having a minor freakout? It was about to be a major freakout if he was. She started planning her escape. She went unseen, and watched the nerd carefully.

The train pulled into Westlake, and the crowd piled out. Elliot watched the nerd go, relieved. She slid back in her seat, her eyes closed, and let out a long sigh. But when she opened them, he stood on the platform, watching from a distance, staring right at her. She was supposed to be unseen, but he had locked on to her.

And then the train was out of the station.

Elliot wanted to throw up. She lay back in her seat, looking up at the ceiling and willing her stomach into submission. She closed her eyes, and waited for her stop.

[g]

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Pacific NorthWitch 01

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Elliot was having a day.

Currently, nearly midnight, she was running, not well, crashing into trash cans and boxes that littered the alley. She could hear it behind her, echoing, its horrible scream bouncing off the brick walls around her. It skittered past the mouth of the alley, clawing at the concrete sidewalks, and lunged towards Elliot.

This all started when Elliot got fired. Well, okay, it was before that. She had been minding her own business, trying to make a little overtime, when her coworker, Zerina, invited her to happy hour. Zerina was the one coworker that Elliot kind of liked, though maybe like was generous, but they interacted way more than any of her other coworkers. The thing was, Elliot was good at hiding, and Zerina always found her.

What Elliot’s coworkers heard was, “You should come to happy hour with us.” But, the thing was, Zerina hadn’t said that at all. What Z had said was, “You’ve watched that Locke video enough. You want to find out what really happened to him?”

It had been as clear as day, but she was certain she had only heard it in her head.

And then they got fired. But, like, what the fuck?

What the fuck, Zerina?

Elliot grabbed a garbage bag off the ground and spun, hurling it at… that thing. It landed on the beast’s head, exploding into a horrible mess, and for a moment the beast wailed, disoriented. And Elliot went unseen.

This was a trick she had learned early in life, that she could be in the middle of a conversation and just… disappear. Not really, she was always there, but the other person would blink, glassy-eyed, and shake their head, and wander off as if they had never been talking to anyone. She could stand in front of people and they’d never see her, not if she didn’t want them to.

Elliot pressed herself against the wall, her ears leveling on her head, and she willed herself unseen.

The beast shook the last of the garbage off and looked around. It bent down into a crouch, shrieking, and then rocketed down the alley, bellowing its terrible call.

Elliot turned and ran has hard as she could back down the alley. And she tripped over the garbage the thing had strewn about, kicking a glass bottle across the asphalt.

The thing dug its claws into the ground, screaming in anger, its glowing eyes locking on to her.

“Oh, come on!” Elliot said. She ran out into the street, hoping at least to put traffic between them. But the barren midnight streets didn’t cooperate. Still, Elliot picked a direction and ran, hoping to find anyone. And then, little by little, she came to a stop. The beast behind her had too.

The night was deadly silent. There was no car noise, no traffic from I-5 or Fifth Avenue or Pike. There was no din of people talking, of the poor lost souls of the streets arguing with themselves. It was just silent.

Something flew overhead, Elliot was sure of it, across the moon. Both she and the demon looked up, catching the shadow of a figure as it circled overhead. It stopped, and descended, and slowly the form of a person came into view. She was red panda, wearing a modest green dress and a shawl around her shoulders. She had white headfur, voluminous and so soft looking, that touched her shoulders. And of course, she sat on a broomstick.

Elliot was so tired.

She processed everything, and remembered the box of toaster pastries under her bed. She wanted nothing more than to go back to her room and sleep, and when she awoke in the morning, she could start looking for jobs, and-

“Elliot?” The person called. She landed in between her and the beast, and watched Elliot carefully.

“Don’t like that,” Elliot said.

“It is Elliot, right?”

Elliot watched the woman. She hopped off her broom, taking it in one hand, turning her entire back to the thing. It snarled and screamed and moved towards her. She only turned, not taking her eyes off of Elliot, and pointed. The thing stopped, hesitating, though it didn’t look like it was sure why.

“Yeah,” Elliot said.

“Are you okay?”

Elliot threw her arms up. “I MEAN!” She motioned to the thing.

“Yeah, that’s understandable.” The woman reached into her bag. “Let’s take care of that, shall we?” And she turned to the thing.

The thing screamed at her, stomping and snarling so loud it rattled the windows up and down the street.

“You,” the woman said. “You know better than that.” She pulled a jar from her bag, but held it at her side.

The thing screeched at her, opening its mouth to reveal just too many teeth. Just way too many.

The woman held the jar in front of her, and again, the thing hesitated.

“Go back to your nest,” she said. The thing opened its mouth again, and before it could so much as squeal, the woman raised the jar and quickly dropped it back down. It clinked, and for the first time Elliot could see it was full of pennies.

The thing shrieked at the sound, stepping back.

“You had your chance,” the woman said. She shook the jar again, and the thing backed up so quickly it slammed into the building behind it, screaming in panic. The woman shook the jar again, for good measure, and the thing bellowed and darted off into the city.

Elliot stood, watching with her mouth agape. “Did you just defeat a monster with a no no jar?”

The woman smiled at her, warm and soft. “Sometimes the best solutions are the most obvious.” She approached Elliot carefully.

“What was that?” Elliot asked.

“Banshee,” the woman said. “They’re not indigenous to the area. Some knob brought them across from Scotland about a decade ago. They usually are shy, but that one seems unusual. Maybe it was hungry.” She stepped closer. “Are you hurt?”

Elliot said, “How do you know my name?”

The woman said, “We’ve had our eye on you for a while.”

“Thanks, that’s a terrifying answer,” Elliot said.

“You know why, though,” the woman said. “There’s a reason it went after you and not some bro up on Capitol Hill.”

Elliot bristled, feeling too many thing to keep them sorted. She tried to speak, but couldn’t find the right words.

Distantly, a siren sounded, and then another, and then the thunder of a helicopter.

“I think I need to go,” the woman said. “When the time comes, when you feel comfortable, we should talk again.”

“How? I don’t know you.”

“You already have a guide. They’re just waiting for you to say the right thing.” She climbed on to her broomstick. “Have a good night!” And she silently darted off into the city.

The sounds of life came crashing back all at once and Elliot shrieked. She looked around, down the street at the approaching police cars, and she started to step off the road. A helicopter swung out from over a building, shining its light down on her. Elliot sighed. She knew how this went — running would only lead to bad outcomes. She waited while the police cars caught up. Guns drawn, they cuffed her, pushed her into the back of a squad car, and took her in.

Elliot was having a day.

[g]

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Pacific NorthWitch 00

The thing you have to understand about the disappearance of Mitchell Locke is that he disappeared on camera. You could follow his journey and everything. A camera catches him entering the tunnel at 2:03am from the north, a car in front of him, another behind. And for a few camera changes, this continues: the first car passes, and then Locke, and then the third car. That is, until you get to camera 27, about 500 feet away from the south portal of the tunnel. The first car is gone. Locke pulls into frame, the third car nowhere behind him. He stops in the tunnel, puts his hazards on, and gets out of his car. No one else passes into the tunnel.

At this point it’s clear Locke is looking at something. He leaves the side of his car, and the first jump in the tape happens. It’s just a quick burst of static, and Locke is across the tunnel, looking at what was later determined to be an emergency exit. There’s another burst of static, and Locke is gone. All that’s left in the tunnel is his car, it’s hazards flashing. By the time a tow truck could get to it, the battery had run down, the gas tank was empty, and the air had escaped from its tires. A fine film of dust covered the car.

The other two drivers were identified. Both of them could point themselves out on the tunnel footage, and the rear-most driver recognized the front driver’s car. But neither saw Locke. Neither saw him stop in the tunnel. All that could be sure of Locke was that he entered the Washington State Highway 99 tunnel at 2:03am and by 2:11am Locke had ceased to exist in the world.

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