Tag: witches

Announcement: Witches of Warwick

Hey folks! No chapter this week. I used all of my energy getting this ready to go, and also surviving. Before Elliot started learning how to be a witch in Seattle, she started learning how to be a witch in Warwick. The story has evolved from its beginnings, an extension of Witchsona Week, where people created their own witchsonas. I built a world around my witch, and started building a story too. I imported some characters from my book, The Secrets of the Kraken, and worked on their stories.

After a while, I felt it was best to move my witch out of the spotlight, and make sure all of the characters were original. And thus, Elliot took over. There’s also some stuff in this journey about the witchpunk manifesto, and a desire to see magic hidden in sight in the real world, and that brings us to Elliot in Seattle.

That also left these stories without a home. This collection puts these characters and these stories together. I’m pretty pleased with them. I love the confidence and the joy the witches take in their abilities. I threw some pics in too, because, hey, why not. You can find this collection at Itch, and it’s pay what you want.

(Alternate Link)

Pacific NorthWitch 10

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I help you?” The woman asked.

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

“Name?”

“Meryl Kim,” Z said.

“Department.”

“Medical Examiner.”

“They don’t take visitors.”

“Hm,” Z said. “She’ll see us.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

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

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

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

“May we go in?” Z asked.

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

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

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

“What the hell was that?” Elliot hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh no! You didn’t tell me!”

“Ty knows. Did she not tell you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a coroner,” Elliot said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elliot nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

The man said nothing to this.

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

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

“Colleagues,” Meryl said.

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

“It helps the spell work,” Meryl said.

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

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

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

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

“Joe Deacon,” the man said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jennifer Keeley,” Z suggested.

Meryl rolled her eyes.

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

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

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

“Not your family?”

“I don’t have any.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Deacon nodded.

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

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

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

“Hat or no hat?” Meryl asked.

“No hat?” Mr. Deacon said.

“Nice. Thanks, Mr. Deacon. Goodbye.”

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

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

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

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

Elliot looked around. “Uhm…”

Z looked closer too. “Oh. Oh wow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Z laughed. Elliot did too, just a little.

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

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

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

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

“There’s structure to that,” Z said.

“Like the nerd,” Elliot said.

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

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

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

[g]

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Pacific NorthWitch 09

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are quite anxious,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Covens like ours? Or Witches in general?”

Elliot shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That makes you very happy,” Gimble said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

Elliot swallowed hard. “What?? How?”

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

“Yikes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gimble propped her chin up with her hand and listened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[g]

Back to Part 08Chapter IndexForward to Part 10

Pacific NorthWitch 08

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

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

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

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

It was better than the air screaming at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is zero an option?”

“Zero is always an option,” Z said.

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

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

“Bi-locating,” Z finally said.

“What?”

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

Elliot’s ears perked. “You think so?”

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

“So he’s a witch?” Elliot asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“YEAH,” Z said. “Like… structure.”

“Like a lot of structure,” Elliot agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That wasn’t me,” Z said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” she said sheepishly.

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

“Ah.” Elliot said.

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

“Ah.” Elliot said.

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

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

“Are you Elliot?”

“Ah.” Elliot said.

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

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

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

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

“Sorry we scared you,” Ethan said again.

Elliot nodded, holding her jaw shut tight.

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

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

Morgan smiled. “Absolutely!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can stop if you want.”

“I didn’t say that,” Elliot said.

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

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

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

“Hush.”

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

[g]

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Pacific NorthWitch 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 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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