Hybrids BOOK 1: HYBRIDS Ross looked up from the microscope, and rubbed his eyes. "I have got to get a better chair for this," he said to himself. He looked around, but didn't see anything nearby. He wasn't uncomfortable enough to get up and look for one. The lab around him hummed with subdued activity. He looked down the length of the workbench, examining the scientist next to him. Her name was Jennifer, although he didn't know much more than that about her. She looked up, aware that she was being observed. She smiled a brief, tight smile, and went back to work. He smiled in response, although she'd already looked back down, and didn't notice. Ross looked down at his notes, and at the microscope. "Sample 27," he muttered to himself, trying to focus on the task at hand. "Ross." A voice behind him. He turned around to see Brian Jensen, his manager, walking up to him. "How's it going with that sample series?" Brian leaned to look over Ross's shoulder to examine his notes. "Good!" he exclaimed, before Ross had a chance to reply. "Um," said Ross, trying to come up with a coherent-sounding status for Brian. His eyes ached, and his back was complaining from his poor posture. "Looks like it's going well. I know it's not exactly your specialty, but the new guy usually gets the crap jobs, right?" Brian laughed a brief, tight chuckle, as if to match Jennifer's brief, tight smile. "Yeah, I guess so," replied Ross, feeling lame, but unable to come up with anything else. "Well, keep up the good work," said Brian brightly, already walking back towards the hallway. Ross nodded, again too late for the response to be seen. "Oh, hey, Ross," Brian's voice called out across the lab. Ross looked up again, with what he hoped was an attentive look on his face. "Yeah?" "Why don't you drop by my office this afternoon, say, 4:30." "Oh, ok. Sure. See you there." Ross wondered for a moment if he'd done something wrong, before he remembered that it must be his six month review. He turned back to the microscope and started counting cells again. CHAPTER Nicole passed the smoking censer to the next person in the circle, who accepted it with a silent nod of her head. She passed the smoking vessel over herself in a complex pattern, bathing herself in tendrils of smoke before passing it on in turn. When the censer finally returned to the head of the circle, that woman held it for a moment, eyes closed, breathing slowly and deeply. She looked up suddenly, surprising Nicole, although no one else seemed to react. She took a deep breath, and exhaled it slowly. Finally, she said in a sonorous voice, "Let us give ourselves over to the god and goddess. In all their incarnations, they look over and protect us. They give us their power, to do with as we will. Sisters..." She paused again, this time locking eyes with each of the women around the circle. "This night, this sacred night, we welcome a new member to this, our coven. Nicole," she looked straight at Nicole, her gaze seeming to bore a hole through the young woman's head. "You have been brought to us. Your purpose is foreordained, although you may not know it." She looked around the circle again. "Sisters, we have chosen Nicole, with our hearts and our thoughts. We called, and she came to us. The goddess has smiled on our coven, and given us our wish." She paused again, passing the censer in front of herself a couple times. The pungent smoke reminded Nicole of church, a thought that felt deliciously rebellious, sitting with a group of witches. Her parents would throw a fit if they knew she was here. "It is our custom, and the custom of all in our faith that new members should take on a new identity, a new name, to show to the external world the change that has happened inside. As is customary, I have chosen Nicole's new name to fit her aura, and to fit the desires of the god and goddess. "Nicole," she paused again, her languid eyes playing over Nicole's face. "You will be known henceforth as... Moon Shadow." The tone of her voice suggested that this was of utmost seriousness, but Nicole couldn't help a snicker escaping from her throat. It died off quickly as she realized that no one was joking, and that she would honestly be expected to answer to Moon Shadow from now on. Choking back a combination of shame and laughter, she repeated, "Moon Shadow." She didn't know what her part in this drama was: no one had given her a script. "Moon Shadow, do you accept your new name?" The woman at the head of the circle looked at her expectantly. Clearly, "Yes" was the only acceptable answer. Responding with what seemed to be an appropriate level of gravitas, she said, "I do." Her face flushed, suddenly feeling as though she were agreeing to be married to someone she wasn't actually all that interested in. Every woman around the circle suddenly erupted in a sort of keening song, like nothing Nicole had ever heard. The bizarre sound resolved as they weaved and ducked their voices to meet up on a single note, making an "ooo" noise. As suddenly as it'd started, all the voices dropped off. Nicole looked around, wondering how she was supposed to react. "Welcome, Moon Shadow," said the head woman serenely. "Be at peace in this place, with your sisters. You are always welcome here. This is a place of wonder, and you can leave Nicole outside. Here, you are Moon Shadow, and sacred." She nodded, closing her eyes again. She whispered something to herself, an action which was mimicked around the circle. The woman at the head of the circle looked up suddenly again, and said, "Moon Shadow, come forward." Her voice was a command without being demanding. Nicole found herself walking across the pentagram, up to the woman. "Give me your hand," she said, motioning to Nicole's left hand. Nicole raised her hand. The woman grabbed it gently, and turned it over. Before she knew what was happening, the woman had produced a gleaming white-handled knife, and pricked the tip of Nicole's ring finger. Nicole tried to jerk her hand away, but the woman's grip was unexpectedly strong. She squeezed out a drop of Nicole's blood into a chalice that Nicole hadn't noticed before, then released her grip. "By this sacrifice of blood, you are joined to our sisterhood." Nicole backed away, returning to her place in the circle, sucking the end of her finger, although it didn't really hurt. The woman poured a dark liquid into the chalice, and swirled it around, before adding something she crumbled in her hand. Even in the dim light of the surrounding candles, Nicole could see that there was some kind of steam or smoke rising from the cup. After swirling the cup for a few seconds, the woman took a sip and passed it to her right. "Drink, sisters," she said, her voice calm and soothing, "and we become one. United together, we cannot be separated." Each woman drank in turn. When it got to her, Nicole took a quick sniff of the liquid, but couldn't identify it. She took a sip, and passed it to her right, nearly gagging on the concoction. She could taste wine and a couple different spices, as well as something underneath that she couldn't place. The chalice passed around the circle, although no one else seemed to be gagging on it. "Join hands, and let us call down the goddess." Nicole found her hands grabbed from both sides. She looked quickly around, and mimicked the face-upward, eyes-closed attitude everyone else had adopted. "Athena, Ceridwen, Isis..." The woman's speech was coming slowly, somehow thick and slurred, yet quite understandable. "We call you down to bless our circle." Everyone around the circle murmured something Nicole didn't catch; it didn't sound like English. The woman started speaking in a language Nicole had never heard before, with guttural sounds, and odd, pinched-sounding vowels. Nicole noticed that the room seemed to be spinning. Her vision was darker than it should have been, and the sound of the woman's voice was oddly distant. Too late, she recognized that she was about to pass out. CHAPTER 3 "You wanted to see me?" Ross looked into Brian's open door. "Yeah, come on in Ross." Brian motioned at the chair opposite his desk. The desk was cluttered, with a whirring Sun workstation taking pride of place among sloping drifts of paper. Brian sat casually in a ratty-looking chair, his lab coat hanging open to show a pale blue button-up shirt and grey slacks underneath. "Sit down. Close the door there." Ross sat in the indicated chair, feeling like a child who's been sent to the principal's office. The door snicked shut, and the room was suddenly very quiet except for the gentle sussuration of the computer's fan, and the quiet flicking noise of the piece of paper it was blowing on. "So, you've been here six months now," started Brian. "How do you think it's going?" "Well, um, pretty good, actually," said Ross. "I feel like I'm really doing well on the cell counts and titrations, and I can see a lot of exciting projects that I'd like to get involved with. I'm surprised we don't have one of those Wittgen cell counters yet, but I can see how it's a good exercise for new folks. How do you think it's going?" Brian pondered for a moment, his face half-hidden behind steepled fingers. Eventually, he said, "I agree. I think you're doing very well. Based on your referrals and your transcript, I expected great things out of you, and I haven't been disappointed, although I also don't feel like we've really challenged you yet. Truth to tell, we do have a new Wittgen cell counter coming soon, and when it arrives, you're off tedium duty." Brian paused, looking appraisingly at Ross, before he continued, "Tell me about the projects you'd like to be involved in." Ross thought for a moment. Practically everything the lab was doing looked interesting to him. That's why he'd accepted the job here. "Well, most of my doctoral work was in DNA sequencing and identification. I've been intrigued by the splicing project; we're using techniques I've only read about. My advisor hadn't ever tried using the Farnsworth method, she thought it was flashy pseudo-science, although I always thought it showed promise." He trailed off, realizing he was about to start jabbering. Brian looked thoughtfully at Ross. "We've already got a full staff for that branch of the work, so I can't let you head there yet. Give it time. The splicing operation will be getting bigger, so there'll be a place for you if you want it. Where I do have room, though, is in the sequencing and identification. It's kind of old hat around here, and everyone wants into the splicing operation, so sequencing tends to be a neglected subject. However," Brian paused significantly, looking at Ross. "Your specialty was in identification, and you did good work there. Would you be interested in pursuing that path again?" Ross tried not to look crestfallen. "Sure, that sounds interesting. I've certainly done a lot of work there, so it'll be like slipping back into the old expertise. What did you think about my paper on the recombinant theta-phase identification technique?" "That's actually the paper that got you the job, so I'd say I liked it a lot. I thought it was good, pioneering work, and we started employing your techniques pretty quickly after testing them." Buoyed by this unexpected praise, Ross found he wasn't so negative toward the thought of going back into his doctoral field. "Alright, sounds good." The two men stood up and shook hands, before Brian said, "C'mon, let me introduce you to the team. I'm sure they'll be glad to have you working with them. We expect the Wittgen in about two weeks, so you'll still be on population counting until then." CHAPTER 4 "Moon Shadow? Moon Shadow?" Nicole realized that someone was trying to talk to her. She had the feeling of swimming towards a bright light, slowly regaining her senses. As she came to, she realized that the bright light was just a candle illuminating the face of Phoenix, her friend who used to be called Susan. "Are you alright?" Phoenix had a curious mix of concern and mirth on her face. "Yeah," said Nicole groggily, trying to sit up. The world tilted and whirled around her, and she lay back again. "Yeah, you probably want to stay down for a moment. The potion hit you pretty hard. It does that to a lot of people the first time. I didn't faint, but I really felt like shit for a couple hours afterward." She smiled, a sort of smirking grimace. "What was in that stuff?" Nicole realized that she was slowly gaining awareness of her body in fits and starts, and her body wasn't happy with her. She lay her head back again. "Oh, I don't know, Gwendolyn puts it together, and it's kind of her secret recipe or something. I think she keeps it in her grimoire, so we could probably figure it out, but it's not that important." "Is Gwendolyn the head woman?" Nicole had her eyes closed, and was trying to remember what the woman at the head of the circle had looked like. She put her hand up to her forehead, which had started throbbing a little. "Yeah, she's been doing this for ages. She's got the lingo down and everything. You know, now that I think about it, I have no idea how long she's been doing this." Phoenix looked thoughtfully off into space. Nicole didn't notice. "Well, whatever it was," she said, continuing the previous conversation, "it was nasty. I almost threw up, and I must have passed out within 30 seconds." "Oh, it's not that bad. I got used to it real quick," replied Phoenix. Nicole laid back silently, wondering how many more times she'd be required to drink that foul stuff. "Anyway, you should be feeling better by now. Get up when you're ready. We're all back in the kitchen, eating." Phoenix got up and left the room. Nicole turned her head to look after her departing friend, but the shift made the world spin again, so she closed her eyes and gently re-centered her head. Five minutes later, Nicole actually was feeling good enough to get up, and did so. She looked around at the room, now lit by a half dozen black tapers. The walls were draped with dark fabric, its color indeterminate in the available light. The floor was of some hard material, which she eventually decided must be vinyl. The pentagram was marked permanently into the floor, its size fixed so 13 women could comfortably stand or sit around it. It filled most of the room. A small window was in the wall opposite the door, covered by the same dark material, but hung from a more normal-looking curtain rod. Nicole opened the door, and walked back into the bright, relatively normal looking part of the apartment. It was Gwendolyn's apartment, she recalled, although her introduction to all the women had been speedy and somewhat perfunctory. "You should come to my coven tonight," Phoenix had said. "It's really cool, they're all super nice, and we have a great time." When Nicole had asked what it was they actually do, Phoenix had been fairly vague in her response. "I've told them all about you, and they're really excited to meet you. I think you'll really like Wicca," Phoenix had said. Nicole had agreed, not having anything to do tonight. She hadn't really decided to join the coven, but it seemed to have happened, whether she wanted it or not. She didn't have any immediate objections, other than the potion, and the name they'd given her. Moon Shadow? She thought it sounded like something from the 60s, something her grandmother would talk about. In the kitchen, the 12 other women looked out of place in their flowing, richly colored robes. It was a very normal-looking kitchen, it just happened to be packed with 12 women in robes, eating off paper plates. "Come in, Moon Shadow. Refresh yourself," said Gwendolyn. Out in the normal light, Nicole could see that she looked to be about 50 or 60, with long silver-grey hair, and piercing grey eyes. She held out a plate to the younger woman, on which was laden a small pile of lasagne and some glistening salad. Nicole accepted the food, and started eating. The lasagne was pretty standard fare, probably bought frozen from the supermarket, but it felt good and comforting after the odd experience of drinking a magic potion around a pentagram. Nicole's mom made better lasagne, but she also spent most of the day at home. Nicole had always inclined a bit to the gothy side. She was fond of stripey socks and clothing that had more frilly black lace than was strictly necessary. Wearing pentacles was part and parcel of the look, and she'd always done it without much thought. She wore pentacles in the same thoughtless way she work ankhs or occasionally made up her eyes to look like the Eye of Horus. It was all just the style, and she thought it looked cool. Her mom hated it, of course, but she was still very traditional, even 3 generations after leaving Italy. To actually see a big pentagram on the floor, though, had put a different meaning to it. Suddenly, Nicole saw it as a real symbol, with real meaning. She didn't know quite what the meaning was yet, but it had immediately assumed a mystical significance it'd never had before. The other witches were chatting amongst themselves, but it was all surprisingly banal, after the keening and chanting that had happened in the other room. Nicole listened with half an ear as two of the women discussed their experiences at the local supermarket, a QFC which apparently had been reducing the lines of some food they considered to be very important. Everyone quieted down, and Nicole realized that Gwendolyn was calling for silence. "Sisters," she started, "we've welcomed our new member officially, but I also want to make her feel welcome among us in the secular world." She looked at Nicole before proceeding. "Moon Shadow, welcome to our coven, which is also our social group. You'll meet everyone eventually, but I realize that your official introduction may have been a bit overwhelming." The older woman smiled a bit curtly, and Nicole smiled back, her mouth still half-full of lasagne. She swallowed self-consciously. "Thanks. I, uh... I guess I didn't think I was joining the coven," said Nicole. When she saw the dawning looks of unhappiness on the other womens' faces, she quickly continued, "Not that it's bad! I was just surprised. This looks like fun, I mean, it looks cool. I'm glad to be here," she finished somewhat lamely. Gwendolyn shot a glance at Phoenix, who returned it blankly, without seeming to understand its import. "Well, welcome in any case," said Gwendolyn, turning back to look at Nicole after Phoenix failed to respond. "Blessed be," she said. This elicited an automatic, "Blessed be," from everyone else. Nicole repeated it, too late, so that her voice stood out in the silence. Gwendolyn smiled, kindly this time, and said, "Enjoy your repast." CHAPTER 5 Ross carefully lifted four beers, pressed together between his hands. Eyeing them with great concentration, he walked with exaggerated smoothness back to his table. He was out with Jack, a microbiologist, Jennifer, the woman who sat down the bench from him (and happened to be a biochemist), and Bjorn, a Swede who worked on the DNA sequencing team. Ross lifted his beer after he'd distributed the others to his coworkers. "To machines that do the work for us!" The others lifted their beers as well, and clinked the heavy glasses together. They all drank. Bjorn was still drinking as everyone else set down their glasses. After a moment, he set his glass back down, half of its contents missing. "Ah. That was good," he said, smiling. "American beer still tastes like piss, but it's better than drinking water." Bjorn was unmistakably Swedish, from the nearly white blond hair to the chiseled features. Jennifer gazed at him with poorly concealed interest. Ross gazed similarly at Jennifer, but he was aware enough to realize that it was just an idle fantasy. "So, Ross," said Jack. "You're moving to the DNA team, eh?" His face crinkled into a smile, a little bit of beer foam clinging to his moustache. "Looks like it," said Ross. He didn't really want to talk about work, but didn't know what else to talk about with his coworkers. "I guess Brian liked my work counting cell populations." Ross laughed, as did everyone else. Cell counting was the worst kind of drudge work, but it had to be done. Ross found himself examining his companions. Jack, who sat across the table from him, was in his 50s. His brown hair was now about half steel-grey, and his beard was completely grey. His eyes, which were brown behind metal-framed glasses, were surrounded by a relief map of his smile, which occurred frequently. He dressed to the bachelor-scientist standard of clothes that were several decades out of fashion. He looked like he should smoke a pipe, but Ross had never seen any suggestion he did. It was just something about the way he carried himself. Jack was a touch overweight, but not much, and certainly not enough to comment on among the rapidly swelling American population. He stood just under 6 feet tall, which Ross tried to think of as being about 1.8 meters, although Imperial measurements still came more naturally to him for things like a person's height. To his left, Ross tried to observe Jennifer without appearing to pay undue attention. She was very attractive, with flame red hair kept in a sort of shapeless shoulder-length cut. Ross thought she was simply unaware of the effect she had on most men, but he couldn't be sure. With her finely sculpted features, red hair, and shockingly white skin, it was hard to miss her in a crowd. She only stood 5' 5" and missed the "rail thin" mark, thus keeping her out of any potential modelling career. But she wasn't far from it, and in any case, Ross thought much more highly of her for pursuing a scientific career than one in modelling. Jennifer had a better fashion sense than Jack, and was dressed in contemporary business-casual attire, although it was usually covered by her lab coat at work. The other two men at the table didn't seem as affected by her as Ross was, but he had reason to believe they just covered it better than he did. Bjorn, exemplifying the Norse look, was also surprisingly good-looking. Ross thought back to his years in school, when most of his fellow students seemed to tend more towards dumpy and male than the relatively statuesque crowd he was sitting with tonight. In part, that was because all the attractive women seemed to gravitate towards medicine, and in part because achieving success in a doctoral program like his meant a lot of hours sitting inside, away from both sun and exercise. He came back to the present, and found that Jack and Bjorn were talking about football. The Seahawks were showing promise this year, after a few simply abyssmal years. The new quarterback was really turning things around, even pulling the coach out of his slump. Ross listened disinterestedly: he found football to be marginally interesting at the best of times, and following a bottom-of-the-league team wasn't his idea of a good time. "Yeah, I really think Sorensen pulled off a good play in the third quarter," Jack was saying. Bjorn nodded, looking into his beer glass, which was now empty. "He dodged that tackle from what's-his-name, #34, and just shot towards the end zone. I think that play put them 20 yards ahead." Ross's attention wandered again. He looked over at Jennifer again, who was smiling slightly to herself. Reminding himself that he was just making conversation, and not asking for her hand in marriage, he asked her, "What are you smiling about?" She looked over at him, surprised out of a reverie. "Oh, I was just thinking about last weekend. My boyfriend and I took a trip to Victoria, and we found this great little sushi place. It was empty when we went in, and we ended up talking with the chef for a couple hours. He fed us all sorts of amazing stuff, most of which I'd never even heard of. I wasn't a big fan of sushi before that, but he really opened it up for me." She trailed off, taking another sip of her beer. Unlike Bjorn, her glass was still 3/4 full. "Oh, that's cool," said Ross, again feeling lame. "I haven't been able to get into sushi. You know, just raw fish. Not really my thing." "I didn't much like it either, but this guy was great. He really loved what he was doing, and it was kind of infectious." She smiled again. "I'd recommend it, but Victoria's a long way to go just to get an education on sushi. There's probably somewhere around Seattle that'll be similar. If I run across a good restaurant, I'll let you know." Ross nodded his thanks. "So, what do you do when you're not concocting potions at work?" Ross tried to make the question sound nonchalant, although he was finding holding eye contact with Jennifer's blazing green eyes to be very distracting. "Oh, I do a couple things for fun. I guess quilting is the big thing." She smiled, a bit sheepishly this time. "It doesn't sound that exciting, but I get real satisfaction from making something, and having something I can show off to other people. I mean, I can kind of do that at work, but I can't tell friends about what I do without their eyes immediately glazing over. A quilt is something everyone understands." "Oh, interesting. I don't think I've ever even considered quilting before. How long does it take to make, say, a queen size quilt?" "That depends a lot on how complex it is. A simple square patch quilt might take fifteen or twenty hours, or a really intricate one might take a couple hundred. I tend toward the complex ones, so it usually takes me a month or two for a reasonable size quilt." "Huh. What do you make them out of?" "That depends too. Right now, I'm working on a baby quilt for a friend of mine. That's made out of these really soft quarters I found at the fabric store a little while ago. They don't know the sex of the baby yet, so I'm making it purple and lavender." She saw the look of confusion on Ross's face. "A quarter is just a small piece of fabric. Fabric stores can cut up remnants and sell them to quilters at a mark-up, but you get a good variety of fabric without having to buy huge amounts of it." Ross nodded, understanding. "What do you do for fun," asked Jennifer, turning the question back on Ross. "A couple things, I guess," he said. "I play guitar, although I'm not very good at it. It's just a hobby, but I like it. I also race electric formula vee cars, which is really fun. I'm not that good at racing either, but it's really cool to get out on the track and go fast around the corners." Jennifer nodded attentively. "How long have you been racing?" "Just two seasons so far. This year, I came in 12th in my class, but it's a field of 20, so it's not as if I did all that well. It's getting bigger, though. The track only just installed recharging stations three or four years ago, so that was pretty much the first time you could do electric racing practically. Since the gas prices went up so much 5 years ago, the gas field narrowed down a lot as people dropped out due to price. But the electric racers are getting more popular as people find out about them, and they're a lot cheaper." He paused, and realized he was starting to lecture. "Sorry, I like it a lot, and there's still a lot of prejudice against electric race cars. The funny thing is, the electric cars easily beat the gas cars off the line, and turn in very similar lap times. They're heavier, because of the batteries, but there's really no maintenance, and the only weird technology in them is the huge-amperage racing motor controllers. Everything else comes straight out of street electric cars." "I'm still running my old Subaru," said Jennifer wistfully. "I love it, but I know it won't last. I can't really keep up with gas prices. I mean, I ride the bus or my bike more often than I drive. At least traffic subsided when gas went up." "Yeah, there's no future in it any more. Ever since the Middle East basically cut us off, it's just too expensive. I got a used Tesla Whitestar a few years ago. It was expensive, but it paid for itself in a year of driving around." Ross looked up at a loud noise on the far end of the bar, but it was just someone laughing very loudly. "I should do that, just dump the Subaru. I really like it, though. I guess I keep it because it's the easiest thing to do. Mental inertia." Jennifer looked into her glass, and took a drink. "Yeah, it was easier for me, I guess. In grad school, I didn't have a car at all; I walked most places. When I got out and found I needed one, an electric just made sense. I wish I lived closer to the lab, but housing prices are insane around here." Jennifer laughed. "I know what you mean!" She took another sip of her beer, and continued, "The apartment I have now... Let's see, I think I started out at $1500 a month for it, and it's a little tiny two bedroom in the bad part of Ballard. Now, I'm paying $2000, and I've only been living there a couple of years. It's madness!" She shook her head, her hair waving mesmerisingly. "Yeah, I had to get an apartment in Lynnwood. It's completely unsustainable to live so far away, but a lowly cell-counter can't afford the high stakes world of actually living within Seattle city limits. At least traffic calmed down a bit after gas shot up." Ross shook his head, and took a swig of beer. "Hey, how do you like that Whitestar," asked Jack, having apparently reached a lull in his conversation about the Seahawks' ability to trounce opposing teams or not. Ross thought for a minute. "Well, it's clearly their first real car. I mean the Roadster was cool, but it was so expensive that they could afford to do it right. When the brought out the Whitestar, it was supposed to be the affordable family car. They hit the price, but the quality took a bit of a dive. Still, they keep their value well. Why, are you interested? What do you drive now?" "Oh, I don't drive anything right now," replied Jack. "I usually take the bus, or ride my bike. I just thought the Whitestar was a cool car. Pretty much the first production electric car anyone would seriously consider buying. I think the Toyota Century is a better car, technically, but Toyota had a lot of advantages going in. Nah, I don't really want a car, but I'm still interested." Jack drained his beer, and looking around the table, offered to get the next round. Three nods met this, but Ross held up his hand in a "stop" motion, and said, "I'd better switch to something lighter, I have to drive home." "Sure thing, chief," said Jack, smiling. "Ross, tell me, what was it you studied for your doctoral work," asked Bjorn, speaking directly to Ross for the first time that night. "I have heard it was something to do with DNA, but I don't recall what it was." Bjorn's voice was tinged with a Swedish lilt, which enhanced the sensation of his aloof foreignness. "Oh, well, I specialized in a particular type of DNA sequencing. It's called theta-phase sequencing, and it offers the advantage of being a lot faster, as well as less prone to error, than the older style of sequencing. I didn't do anything revolutionary, I was just building on the work of others, really. I just synthesized the work of Anderson and Rodgers." Bjorn and Ross quickly descended into a very technical, and very boring discussion of the minutae of sequencing DNA. Jennifer and Jack exchanged a glance, and had their own conversation about the weather, which had been cold, snow appearing on the ground much earlier than usual. CHAPTER Nicole dropped into the overstuffed chair with a theatrical sigh. Phoenix dropped into the chair next to hers. They were at a local coffee shop, not too far from the Lake City apartment where the coven meeting had taken place. They sipped from their respective coffee cups. Not too far away, a gas fireplace blazed with a cheery light. After a silence of several minutes, Phoenix finally spoke. "So, what did you think of the coven meeting?" "Um..." Nicole paused. "I guess it was cool. I wasn't really expecting that I was joining the coven tonight, I thought I was just coming to check it out. That whole thing with the knife and the potion and the chanting and everything was kinda freaky." "Oh." Phoenix looked down, clearly uncertain where to go from there. "I mean, I'm not mad or anything. Like, it's cool. I just wished you'd told me that was gonna happen, you know? It was a surprise." Phoenix didn't say anything. Her dirty blond hair hung down over her eyes, as she examined her coffee cup. Finally, she looked up, and said, "I'm sorry. I guess I thought you wanted to join, the way you were talking before. I shoulda said something. Sorry about that." "It's ok, like I said, I'm not mad or anything." Nicole paused, considering. "So, what happened there? I mean, what was the singing? What does the pentagram mean?" "Oh," said Phoenix, brightening. "Well, the singing was an offering to the goddess, sort of like a prayer. It was also an invocation, asking her to look over you and the coven. It's a kind of magic, I guess, but it's not as much like magic as some of the other stuff we do." "What other stuff do you do?" Nicole glanced around the coffee shop a bit self-consciously, but no one seemed to notice that they were talking about magic as if it were real. The shop was actually pretty empty, although it was late enough that most people had switched from coffee to other drinks. "Lots of stuff," said Phoenix. "Like, there's a lot of visualization. That's pretty powerful magic. You visualize what you want to happen, and it does. It's not like you shoot lightning bolts out of your eyes or anything," Phoenix laughed at the image. "You just imagine, like, 'I want to get a raise at work,' or something like that, and a lot of the time it happens. It helps a lot to visualize things that can actually happen, of course. I tried visualizing a horse for a couple weeks once, but all that happened was I noticed a lot more horses on TV." She smiled, either at the memory, or at the thought of owning a horse. "That... I guess, that doesn't sound a lot like magic to me. Do you do anything that's actually magic, like really mystical stuff?" "You mean, like bubbling cauldrons, or waving wands around like Harry Potter or something? Not so much. I wanted to do that stuff, too, but Gwendolyn says that that magic doesn't work any more." "It used to?" Nicole's voice was incredulous. "Oh yeah, I guess back in the sixteen hundreds, or whatever, magic totally worked. You'd just wave a wand around, and make things happen. It doesn't work any more, though." Nicole scowled a bit. "That sounds like wishful thinking to me." "No, Gwendolyn says it really worked. We just live in a magic-poor time, now. Like, all the magic has gone away, or is taken up just keeping people alive or something." "Do you really believe that?" "Yes?" "So... you don't really believe that." "No, I guess not. It sounds pretty unlikely, doesn't it." Phoenix sounded dejected, like she'd just discovered Santa Claus doesn't really exist. She looked up at Nicole with a slightly hangdog look on her face. "Yeah, it does. I mean, in the sixteen hundreds, I think people were just stupider about stuff, like, science and stuff. If you really believed in magic, you'd probably see it everywhere. Your brother gets sick, or the crops die off, it's pretty easy to blame it on magic. Really, it was just cancer, or some fungus or something, but if you don't know that, what other cause is there? Magic makes as much sense as anything else, plus you could blame the lame old woman who lived outside of town, and call her a witch, 'cause no one liked her anyway. I bet that's what magic really was." "Yeah, well, maybe," said Phoenix, clearly uncomfortable with where this was going. "But don't talk like that in the coven. Some of us really believe in what we're doing, and it would suck to mess up their world just because you don't believe in magic." "Ok, I won't. I want to believe in magic, but I haven't really seen anything that makes me believe. Maybe we can do something magical, right? You should teach me how to visualize stuff. Maybe I can get a raise." Nicole smiled, trying to cheer Phoenix up a bit. "Yeah, maybe you could." Phoenix smiled, and went on to talk about visualization techniques, and concentration, and intention. Nicole listened attentively, wanting to believe it would work, but not really able to do so. CHAPTER Ross sat in a staff meeting, trying to pay attention and generally failing. Brian stood at a white board, sketching out the latest project he'd agreed to. "Talon Genetics," he said, "has agreed to this take on this contract from the Defense Department, and I, for one, am very excited about it. As you know, we've been working on a number of projects for Defense in the last few years, but this one is the most ambitious to date. "A few decades ago, the Navy was working with dolphins, trying to train them to perform various tasks: border patrolling; searching for mines; identifying enemy vessels, and so on. They met with limited success, but it wasn't really turning out to be worth the effort." Brian paused, looking around the room, at the 30 or so gathered scientists. "That's where we come in. As you know, genetics research has been booming for the last decade or so. We mapped the human genome, and we've identified a huge number of the genes and what they do. There's been breakthrough research in gene twiddling to prevent certain birth defects, and animal testing has been very promising on a huge number of potential projects. "The Defense Department wants us to help them breed animal soldiers." Brian paused for effect. As if on cue, murmured conversations broke out. He held out his hands for silence. "The project is officially called the Battle Animal Hybridization and Selection Project, or BAHSP for short. Our part in it is to work with researchers from Defense on the hybridization aspect. Specifically, we'll be working the genetics angle, to see what we can tweak to meet their needs. They'll be working on more traditional hybridization methods: cross-breeding, and so on. One of the first tweaks I know they want," he looked significantly around the room again, "is to make it easier for certain animals to be cross-bred." He went on to dole out high-level work assignments to various individuals and teams. This project would essentially take over the lab, with the remaining contracts fulfilled as quickly as possible. Brian didn't mention dollar figures, but Ross decided the contract must have been worth billions, the way Brian was acting. Ross's DNA team (the Wittgen cell counter had thankfully arrived a week earlier; he gratefully gave up the counting tasks to the whirring servomotors and cameras of the oven-sized machine) would be working on identifying target genes and sequences of DNA to be modified and spliced. As he listened to Brian talk, Ross was already starting to work out in his head how he'd approach the work, his former boredom forgotten. By the time Brian was finished and had dismissed everyone, Ross's head was buzzing with ideas, which he rushed to write down once he got back to his desk. CHAPTER Nicole straightened a stack of shirts on the shelf. She was doing the only thing she'd ever really been able to do to make money: working retail. At the moment, she was working at The Gap. It wasn't bad, at least the people were fairly nice. She'd tried many things. For a while, she had decided she wanted to be a painter. She'd been pretty good, but no one was interested in buying her work, and although she'd done a couple really good gallery shows, the response was pitiful. Certainly not enough to live on. Her first retail job was remarkably similar to this one: working at The Limited, doing about the same things. She helped customers, rang up purchases, kept the store neat, and so on. It was boring, though. She could remember when she was a kid, the cashiers had these neat laser things they'd play over the barcodes to scan in a purchase, but now, you just waved the clothes over the counter, and they all registered. Ringing up a purchase was about as mindless as it could get. "Excuse me," said an exasperated voice behind her. Nicole turned to see a 14 year old mall rat, dressed to the nines: bright pink body stocking underneath, with a colorful cacophony of clothing over it, most of it with holes in strategic locations, carefully finished so it looked as if the fabric were just missing. The girl was looking at Nicole as if she were the stupidest, most vexing person in the world. "I've been trying to look at those shirts for evar!" she exclaimed, petulant pauses thrown in for increased effect. She tossed her head, jangling the jungle of earrings swinging from her profusely holed earlobe. Nicole stepped back, biting back a snarky comment. Of course, she realized, she was probably just as bad when she was fourteen. It's not as if she'd been polite to old people, which, she realized with a start, she was. At the advanced age of 25, she was as good as dead to the teenager in front of her. Not that she felt that old, of course. She felt much as she had when she was 19, or 14. But, she realized, her vision of old people from then included people in their mid to late 20s. The mall rat rifled through the stacks, apparently at random. What Nicole should have said was, "Is there anything I can help you find?" Instead, she said nothing, and left the young woman to her pillaging. She fully expected to find at least one of those pieces of clothing missing when she stepped back to check stock, although the sensors at the mall entrance would most likely get the girl sent back here in short order, this time with an escort of stern-looking men in mall security uniforms flanking her. Shoplifting was depressingly common. It'd always been common, but it was so depressing now because it was nearly impossible to do, yet kids still did it. Every single thing sold in the mall had an RFID tag in it, and the shops' computers communicated with the mall's computers to help catch things leaving the mall that hadn't been properly paid for. It usually worked, but occasionally there'd be a communications glitch, or a tag would fall out or be removed. Nicole fondly remembered, when the RFID tags were getting to be common, finding a loose tag in a pair of pants, and quietly dropping it into a friend's pocket. She found it hilarious, although her friend didn't much talk to her after that. Apparently mall security thought she'd swallowed whatever it was (pants? how do you swallow pants?), and it had been a long ordeal. "Excuse me, miss?" Another voice called out for help. Nicole walked over to a woman in her 40s. A few minutes ago, she might have called the woman "old," but her self-reflection on her perception of age stopped her. "How can I help you?" "Do you know if you have these in a size 00?" Nicole looked the woman up and down. She might be a 00, at 5' 5" and 130 lbs. "Did you already check this rack?" she asked, pointing out the rack the blouse had come from. "Yes, I didn't see any. Do you keep any stock in the back?" "Yeah, let me go check." Nicole went back into the stockroom, where she fully expected to find nothing. Expectations confirmed, she returned and told the woman they probably didn't have anything in her size. She simply replied, "Ok, thanks for looking," and kept shopping. Conversations like this were very, depressingly normal. Nicole couldn't think of the last time she'd actually had a conversation with a customer that was more engaging than, "How about the weather?" The rest of the day passed in much the same manner. The mall rat had indeed stolen a shirt, and was escorted back in about 20 minutes later. Nicole had lifelessly taken the shirt back, and recorded the girl's ID so the store would be alerted if she came back. As she was walking out of the mall at the end of her shift, her phone rang. She picked it up, and was delighted to hear the voice of Rachel, her friend from her abortive college years. "Hey, Rach! How's it going?" "Good," came the thin, crackly voice from the other end. Nicole's phone could do no end of wonderous things, such as take pictures, take video, send IMs, tell her where she was and how to get to any of millions of shops or restaurants, track stocks, tell her the weather, and so on. Yet for all that, it made a crappy phone. It was hard to dial, and once you finally made a connection, the sound was awful, with a huge delay between speaking and being heard on the other end. "Hey, so it's been a while," said Rachel. "I was calling for a few reasons. First, I'm having a party this Saturday, and it'd be great if you could come. I sent you a message on Hoojah, but I don't know if you've gotten it yet. Did you see that?" "No," replied Nicole. "I haven't logged on in a few days, I'm usually on Facebook more, the weird shit on Hoojah is hard to watch for more than a few minutes, you know?" "Yeah, but it's the only system we share in common. I can't take the attitude on Facebook. Anyway, the other thing was about Mark. I'm sure you remember Mark, he was in one of our comparative religion classes, the guy with the big, square glasses?" "Oh, yeah. Um, Mark. Oh, right, that guy. Yeah, I remember him. What about him?" "Well, he's kind of the reason for the party. We're engaged!" Nicole paused, unsure of how to respond. Her memories of Mark revolved around his ability to target-projectile vomit with surprising precision after drinking far too much. Beyond that, he was something of a closed book to her. "Congratulations!" she finally said. Suddenly, she couldn't get the image of a drinking glass, lying smashed on the floor in a pool of vomit, out of her head. Mark looked myopically proud in the memory, his hair tousled, stinking of Jaegermeister and the former contents of his stomach. "Yeah, I'm so happy!" Rachel was clearly aware of a different side of Mark. Nicole knew that she wouldn't have made a decision like this if Mark's sole claim to fame was the ability to knock things over after drinking too much. "Wow, that's great! I'm so happy for you." Nicole tried to sound happy, but it was a touch taxing. They exchanged details on the party, and she closed her phone. As soon as she'd closed it, it started ringing again. She opened the device, and was greeted by the voice of her friend Jackson. "Hey babe, how's it going?" he asked. "Oh, fine. I just got off work, I'm kinda tired." "Hey, that's cool. What are you doing tonight? It's been a while, we should have dinner." Jackson's voice was smooth, a nicely modulated baritone. The thought of dinner with Jackson was very cheering. Nicole quickly assented, and they agreed to meet up at a little bar and grill in Greenwood. When she walked in that night, she was greeted by the sight of Jackson standing up to pull out her chair. He stood tall and skinny, with fine features, his tight curls teased out into inch-long dreads. He smiled brightly, his teeth shining white against his dark skin. "It's nice to see you," he said. "You too. Man, it's been forever. Like, what, three weeks or something?" Nicole's face reflected happiness at seeing her friend. They'd grown up together, and been fast friends since mid highschool. "Yeah, I think so. I've been in rehearsals for this show. It's taking up all my time." Jackson was an actor, working with any number of local theater companies. He was good, and actually made a living doing it, but only just barely. He was also startlingly literate, usually reading a book instead of watching TV. He grinned again. "What have you been up to? You're looking pretty good." "Oh, nothing. And I don't look any different than the last time you saw me." Nicole thought for a moment, then continued, "You remember Sarah? Calls herself Phoenix now?" Jackson stared into space for a second, then said, "Oh yeah, Sarah. She's the one who went all woo-woo a while ago, right?" Jackson was firmly atheistic, much to his parents' dismay. He considered religion to be a crutch used by people who couldn't deal with reality. "Yeah, that's her. Well, she brought me to one of her coven meetings a couple days ago." "Oh yeah? How was that? They all dancing around with no clothes on and stuff?" "Uh, no, everyone had clothes on. I didn't really see any dancing, either. I don't think they quite go in for all that stuff. Well, actually, maybe they do, I don't know. I've only been to the one meeting." "What was it like?" "Well, we sat around this big circle with a pentagram in it," here Jackson made an "ooh, spooky" gesture with his face and hands. "And there was some chanting or singing or something. It was lit by candles. I thought it was kind of silly, but also kind of neat. They all seemed so into it, you know?" "I'm sure. The kids at Jonestown were pretty into it too, and all they got was some funny Kool-Aid." He smiled to soften his words. "Heh, yeah, I guess that's right. I hadn't thought of it that way. Do you really think Wicca is a cult?" Nicole tried not to sound pleading. "I dunno, maybe." Jackson looked thoughtful. "Probably not. I mean, real cults usually have one charismatic leader, and they do some really weird shit. I mean, some people think Mormonism is a cult. I guess you could even argue Catholicism is a cult, really." He smiled again. "Don't let my parents hear me sayin' that, of course." "Yeah, I don't think they'd like that very much." Jackson's parents were devout Catholics. His dad was convinced the Rapture was coming any day now, and was desperately afraid his son would be left on Earth after he'd ascended to Heaven. That was, in part, why Jackson had found a life free of religion so appealing. "Well, anyway, this coven meeting was neat, but it got weird toward the end." She paused, looking at her friend, her head tilted to one side. Jackson opened his mouth to ask how it was weird, when their waiter arrived with two steaming plates of food. Ten minutes later, after the intense concentration of food-eating had slackened, they picked up where they'd left off. "Ok, so how was this meeting weird? Did they all turn into bats and fly away or something?" He smiled again, and took a sip of wine. "No, nothing like that. Magic isn't real. No, the leader called me forward, and pricked my finger with a knife," Jackson suddenly looked alarmed, but he said nothing. "She squeezed out a few drops of blood into a cup, poured in some other stuff, and passed it around. We all drank it, just a little bit. It made me feel weird, not like weed or acid or anything, but in a way I've never felt before. Then I passed out. I don't know how long I was out, but probably not very long. I kind of wanted to throw up, but didn't." Jackson's face had taken on a grim set. "You know how fuckin' trippy that sounds, right?" She was a bit surprised at the change in his attitude, but said, "Yeah... Now that I say it out loud, it does sound pretty weird. But after that, she said I was part of the coven. Really, she was talking like I was already part, like they were expecting me or something. I don't know if Phoenix told them I was coming, or if I'm fulfilling some weird prophesy for them, or what." Nicole trailed off, feeling very strange about the whole experience now that she related it to someone else. "Yeah, well, you remember what I was saying before about cults needing charismatic leaders and doing weird shit? I'd say this definitely qualifies. Are you sure they're doing Wicca? I don't remember anything about blood sacrifices and stuff." "It wasn't a blood sacrifice, really. It was just a couple drops in a cup, part of a potion. Maybe they had some recipe that called for 'blood of a maiden' or something," Nicole cracked a huge smile -- she'd lost her virginity at 14, although she'd managed to avoid pregnancy through lucky timing and eventual education in preventative measures. "Yeah, I'd say they failed to collect any of that," replied Jackson, an equally huge grin on his face. Nicole's long succession of loser boyfriends was a primary topic of conversation between them. "Anyway, so the leader said that now I'm part of the coven, like I'm a member. I don't really know anything about Wicca, so I'm not sure what it all means." "Well, normally, in Wicca," Jackson took on a scholarly poise, hand on his chin, which made Nicole laugh. He grinned back at her, and continued, "A coven consists of 3 or more people. There's no formal membership, although obviously it varies with each group. In my own experience, Wiccans are typically petty and small-minded, which is the opposite of what the religion is about, but that seems like it's pretty much true of everyone who's religious." Nicole interrupted, "Now wait a minute, there are kind, worldly people who are also religious." "Yeah, but they're usually the exception. Don't interrupt me when I'm tellin' you things." A smile flashed across his face, and he resumed. "Like I was saying, membership is not usually formal, normally requiring nothing more than that several people be of a like mind, and open to the mysteries of the world. Wicca is best described as a naturalist, or even animist religion, seeing life and spirit in everything." His hauty "I'm teaching you things" tone diminished. "It's actually a really good way to live, if only people would really live that way, instead of using it as an escape, or a way to rebel against whatever." "So, why aren't you Wiccan?" Nicole didn't mention the feeling of rebellion she'd felt upon realizing she was sitting around a giant pentagram with a group of witches. "Are you kidding? And hang out with those people? No way. I can be naturalistic and animist in my own time, without having to hang out with a bunch of nerds in black robes burning a bunch of sage brush. That shit stinks! But anyway, I'm not trying to dissuade you from all this or anything, if you really want to do it." "Well, that's kind of the question, do I really want to do it?" "You know I can't answer that for you." He grinned at her over his wine glass. "Ok, but what do you think?" Nicole felt a certain exasperation at her friend's delight in dodging the question. "Like you have to ask. I think you should take the good lessons from it, and apply them to your own life without all the extra bullshit. Like me, I liked some stuff in Catholicism, and I liked some stuff from Buddhism, heck, I even like Shintoism. I took all the good stuff I liked from there, and applied it to my own life. Good enough. I'm not a Buddhist or a Catholic or a Shitoist though, so no one can pull me into bullshit conversations about the nature of the Buddha or venal sins, or any of that." "So, you don't think I should do any of this?" "I didn't say that," replied Jackson, holding up a finger. "You asked for my opinion, and I offered it to you: take the good stuff, leave the bullshit. That doesn't prevent you from joining the group and doing their stuff, if that's what you think is the good stuff." "Hmm." Nicole looked thoughful, and had a sip from her wine glass. "I guess I'll have to think about it." "Damn straight. You shouldn't do anything like this without thinking about it. It's your life, don't let anybody else live it for you." He shook his head as if to cement what he'd just said to her. "Thanks, Jackson. I'm glad I talked to you about this." She smiled up at him. They spent another hour at the restaurant, although the remaining conversation didn't delve so deep. CHAPTER Ross pulled his face back from the microscope, and rubbed his eyes. "How's that going?" Bjorn looked up as well. "Oh, it's going pretty well. I've got traits from sample H and sample U showing up in this batch, which I hadn't really expected. But that's good, it suggests I'm on the right track." Ross looked across his workbench and through the window on the far side, into the next room. It was lined with cages, partitioned by acrylic panes into sections for different types of animals. There were some weird-looking ones in there, too. The hybridization program was going better than expected. They were only a month into it, and already were seeing amazing success rates. "Really? H and U are showing up in the same batch?" Bjorn grabbed at a stack of papers and shuffled through them. "That's... I'm surprised. I wouldn't have expected that at all. Which traits are you seeing?" "Oh, cell structures, mostly. It looks like the skin cells of H are taking hold in U. It might not be viable, but at this stage, it's still growing alright. I'll have to see what happens in the next month or two." Ross looked at the stage of his microscope, which supported a petri dish full of clear yellowish goo. "Wow. Well, I'll be impressed if that works out." Bjorn put the papers down, and went back to mousing around on his computer, which was showing a colorful map of some microscopic structure. "Well, stay tuned," Ross smiled and bent back over his microscope. He had no idea what the different samples were, which helped him observe the cell batches without bias. He picked up the petri dish, and turned away, calling back over his shoulder, "I'm going to start sequencing some of these." Bjorn didn't react. In the room with the cages, an animal that resembled a jungle cat cub leapt playfully, batting at something that only it could see. Talon Genetics was humming with activity. The Defense department contract had proved very interesting to a lot of people, so it was getting more attention than some of the more boring work they'd had to do in the past. A number of the researchers were putting in long hours, simply because they were excited about what they were working on. It was infectious, and now most of the staff was more productive than they'd been in a long time. Ross took his sample into another room, where he set about selecting cells to sequence. The apparatus he used would have been incomprehensible even 5 years ago, the new techniques were so different. He'd had a part in that change, which felt both good and ominous. Ross wasn't sure quite what he thought of some of the genetics work he knew was going on. It was probably inevitable, though. Split the atom, and someone will figure out how to turn it into a bomb. Make a more efficient explosive, and it will surely propel bullets more than it will ever help mining. Make genetics research faster, and people will use that efficiency to figure out how to select for gender at birth or try to eliminate one disease while inadvertently opening the door to three others. Ross pondered his situation. He was quite happy at work. The things he was doing were very interesting and engaging, and he didn't even feel like he was building better weapons with which politicians would kill each other (although he was aware, deep down, that there's no way that was actually true -- any work for the Defense Department eventually made the job of killing other people more effective or efficient in some way). His personal life was going pretty well, although he felt very single. He spent so much time in the lab lately that there was no way he could get out and meet people. Or, at least, that's what he told himself. It didn't help that the racing season was over, so his big social activity was dormant until next year. *Perhaps I should see what the club scene is like in Seattle*, he thought to himself. Although, he didn't really expect to meet his dream girl by hanging out in bars listening to bands play loud music. He wasn't really a club person, either. He'd gone to a few shows in college, but it never drew him in the way it did some of his classmates. Music was something he listened to and played, not a performance he watched. At that moment, Jennifer walked past, smiling pleasantly at him through the open door. He smiled back, after she'd gone. She was still going out with her boyfriend, so... Ross was a little horrified to discover he was plotting how to capture Jennifer as if she were some big game to be taken down on safari. He shook his head, and went back to the task at hand. CHAPTER Having completed a surprisingly hard day at the lab, Ross decided he could allow himself the indulgence of a drink. He hopped in his Whitestar, and drove from the lab's offices in South Lake Union towards Lynnwood, where he lived. He decided to head for his favorite bar, Charlies in Lake City. It was out of the way, but he'd been introduced to the place by a racing buddy a couple years ago, and really liked it. He pulled into the parking lot, and got out of the car. Its doors locked as the RFID key in his pocket left the range of its in-dash sensor. He liked the system, but found it worrying that there was no manual override -- if the battery died, he'd be locked out. Of course, if the battery died, the car would also be completely immobile, so it wasn't as worrying as it might have been in a gas car. He stepped in, and was greeted by a palpable wave of loud music as the door opened. It must be a band night, which was always a danger with Charlies. He braved the onslaught of music, and ordered a drink at the bar. There were only a couple of stools free, so he picked one and sat down. The band was playing some variety of industrial, beat-heavy music. Not really Ross's preference, but not bad. The crowd was dressed predominantly in black, with rather more silver ornaments affixed to clothing and jackets than you'd normally see. The bartender handed him his drink, and he took a sip. It was quite strong, although he didn't mind too much. The band switched to a song that was either an instrumental, or only included mild vocals compared to the raspy demon-voice effect they'd used in the previous song. Ross wasn't sure, and didn't care too much. He felt a tingle spread throughout his body as the alcohol swept into his bloodstream, and relaxed a bit, moving slightly to the beat. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and looked around. A woman was standing there, maybe 5'4" tall, and fairly thin. Her short dark hair was spiked out. Dark red lipstick combined with faint, tasteful eyeliner so that her features seemed to pop out of her face, which was artifically pale, with white makeup making her look a little like a ghost. She motioned at the seat next to him, which had opened up, and said in his ear, "Mind if I sit here?" She didn't quite have to shout to be heard over the music, and her breath tickled his neck, which he found immediately disarming. He shook his head no, and turned back to his drink, assuming she just wanted a place to sit. After a moment, she tapped his right arm, leaned forward and said, "Hi, I'm Nicole!" He shook her hand and said, "I'm Ross. Nice to meet you." "Ross! That's a great name. Like that guy from Friends!" He smiled wistfully. "Yeah, I hate that." She leaned forward again, to hear him over the music, turning her ear towards him. "I can't stand that guy, I wish he'd had a different name, but I'm not changing my name just because he was lame." As he finished, she laughed, and said, "Yeah, me too. He was so lame!" Unsure this attractive woman had really intended to start a conversation with him, in his lab-inconspicuous button-up shirt and khaki pants, he replied, "Is there something I can help you with?" His face showed concern, which seemed to make her laugh again. "I just came over to say hi. I saw you come in, and thought to myself, 'wow, he's cute.'" Ross actually blushed, his face growing warm. "Really?" he said. "Yeah, really. I'm not trying to scam you or anything, that's really what I thought. If you want, I'll leave you alone..." she trailed off, eyeing him coquettishly. "No, it's fine, I just thought..." He paused, unsure how to finish the sentence. She ignored him, and shouted, "What do you do, Ross-not-from-Friends?" He thought for a second, then said, "I work in a lab. I'm a researcher." "A what?" The band had gotten louder. He leaned toward her, and said, "A researcher, in a lab!" As he leaned forward, he found his eyes attracted to the cleft at her shirt's neckline, which plunged into plump darkness. He leaned back, and willed himself not to stare at her chest. "Oh, that's way better than what I thought you said!" She grinned, but didn't elaborate. He paused, a smirk on his face. When she didn't continue, he asked, "So, what did you think I'd said?" "I don't know, a freezer something, but it didn't make any sense, and you don't look like you work on freezers for a living." "So, how is a researcher better than a freezer something?" "I dunno, a researcher probably makes more money and doesn't go around with his pants down far enough to show his butt crack!" "I think you mean a plumber!" She frowned, and he leaned forward again. "I think you mean a plumber!" The crevice between her breasts was even more unavoidable, now that he was trying not to think about it. She laughed, and said, "Yeah, but I bet freezer guys run around with their pants too low, too." She paused, examining him, her head cocked to one side. "You want to find some place quieter to talk?" Ross looked back at the band, which had moved to a song that seemed to consist entirely of a progressively louder and faster guitar solo. The guitarist's hair hung in front of his eyes, tracing a wave with each jerk of his head as his fingers worked faster and faster. "Yeah, that'd be nice. Sorry, what's your name again?" "Nicole!" Ross gulped the rest of his drink, and tossed a $10 bill on the bar. He nodded at the bartender, who nodded back to him, and got up. Nicole followed him to the door. On the far side of the door, it was much quieter. The band could still be heard, thumping through the walls of the bar. Ross's ears began to ring with the relative silence. "You're not some kind of a creep, are you," said Nicole, with a playful look on her face. "Uh," Ross paused, unsure how to respond. "I don't think so. Anyway, you came up to me, not the other way around." "You never can tell, meeting a guy in a bar." "Where did you want to go that was quieter," Ross asked. Nicole considered for a moment, and said, "Well, I was thinking of my apartment, but there's also this great grill I know in Greenwood." Ross, shocked into silence, pondered for a moment. "Probably Greenwood, I think." "Cool, can I bum a ride with you?" "Don't you have a car?" "Nah, I got a ride here with some friends, and I can take the bus home if it comes to that." She smiled up at him again. "Then sure, hop in. What about your friends?" "They'll be fine. They're way more into that band than I am, and I told 'em I was going up to talk to you. Well, they more sort of pushed me to do it, but whatever." They climbed into the car, and Nicole directed them to the same restaurant in Greenwood where she'd earlier had dinner with Jackson. "Oh!" exclaimed Ross upon hearing seeing it, "Yeah, I've been meaning to check that place out." Once they were seated, they looked at each other awkwardly. The absence of the deafening music somehow made it harder to talk. Finally, Ross said, "I'm sorry, I feel like a teenager on a first date. I'm not normally this awkward." "Yeah, me neither," replied Nicole, hiding the lower half of her face behind the menu. "I... It's not really like me to just go up to a guy in a bar like that. It's a real quality formula for finding a jerk, although it looks like I got lucky this time." "Well, I like to think I'm not a jerk," said Ross, smiling ruefully again. "Also, not a creep." They both laughed, some of the tension suddenly broken. "Agreed, not a creep." The waiter interrupted at this point and asked them what they wanted to eat. Ross chose a roasted chicken burger, and Nicole picked her favorite, the potato skins loaded with nearly everything. Ross smiled across the table at her as the waiter departed. "So, you know what I do, what is it that you do? Aside from pick guys up in bars, I mean." He realized too late that she might misinterpret his little joke as an insult, but kept a brave grin plastered on his face. Fortunately, she took it right, and grinned back. "Actually, I almost never pick up guys in bars, and I'm a clerk at The Gap." She hesitated, then continued, "And a painter, and a poet, and I play bass with a band, but those don't really pay. I just work retail because I know I can make money doing it." Ross had a relieved expression on his face, although he tried not to. He'd had momentary visions of having a relationship with someone whose highest calling was to sell tight-fitting jeans, and it wasn't pretty. "Well, that's a decent list. For what it's worth, I also play guitar (but not with anyone), and race formula vee." Nicole looked puzzled, and Ross launched into his description of the little electric racecars. She looked less puzzled afterwards, and more interested. "Is that something anyone can do?" she asked. "What do you mean?" "Like, can just anyone get one of those cars and start racing?" "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I didn't do anything special other than take the required class. You have to get a bunch of protective clothing and stuff, but the rules are relaxing on that for the electric racers -- they're not as prone to exploding in a fireball as the gas cars." "Cool," Nicole looked bright-eyed for a moment. "I always figured you had to be somebody special to race, you know, like an astronaut or a fighter pilot or something." Ross laughed. "No, all it takes is a willingness to spend more money than you expect, and the desire to get out there and compete. No astronaut training required. Actually, kids start racing these cars as young as 12." "Really!? That'd be a sight to see, some little kid running around in a racecar." "It is," replied Ross. "Most of those kids can kick my ass, too. I'm not a great driver, but between their light weight and their young reflexes, they can do things that I couldn't even attempt, plus they usually accelerate better." He was about to launch into a discussion of power to weight ratios and class power output limitations, but caught himself. Nicole giggled with delight. "I'd love to try that some day!" "You can, if you want. There's usually an open track session, where anyone can drive on the track with an approved car. You could use mine, if you want." "That'd be great!" Ross was surprised at her enthusiasm. In his experience, women generally either weren't interested in racing, or weren't interested in him. Finding both traits in the same person gave him an unexpected lift. "So, not to change the subject too much, but who do you play bass with?" "Oh," Nicole's face calmed down a bit. "Just some friends, really. We get together to play every week or so. We don't have any recordings or anything, it's just for fun. You should come some time, what kind of guitar do you play?" "Oh, a Gibson..." "No, I mean, like, do you play lead guitar, or rhythm, or classical, or what?" "Oh, I see. I just kind of noodle around. I'll play along with songs on the radio or whatever. I don't know what you'd call it. Anyway, I'm not sure I'm good enough to play with anyone else right now." "Pffft. There's no way to get better faster than by playing with other people. You should totally come by. We're rehearsing this weekend, you want to come?" Ross paused, struck by indecision. On the one hand, he didn't have anything going on, and a pretty girl who liked racing was inviting him to come play music with her. On the other hand, a pretty girl who liked racing was inviting him to come play music with her. It sounded intriguing and terrifying at the same time. The last real relationship he'd had was in college, and had ended in a bizzare, one-sided screaming match where he basically sat and cringed, not understanding, while his now-ex girlfriend hurled insults at him and accused him of thinking too much. "I..." He finally decided. "Yeah, I could join you for that. Sounds cool. But you have to promise not to laugh at my playing." "I promise," Nicole said solemnly. She suddenly broke out laughing, then sobered up quickly. "No, really, I won't make fun of your playing. But don't take yourself too seriously, lab-researcher Ross." "Ok, I won't," he said, grinning. The rest of the evening passed far too quickly, and soon they were climing back into his car, which hummed off quietly into the night. At her apartment, they parked the car, and she said, "Would you like to come up... for coffee?" She looked nervous. He felt nervous, and had to fight an urge to look at his watch and exclaim, "Jesus! Look at the time!" Instead, he said, "Yeah, that'd be nice." She showed him into her apartment, which was small and slightly cluttered. She shut the door and latched it, turned around, and kissed him, pulling him close. He was surprised, but had been wondering if he should do the same thing. He kissed back, pressing his body into hers. "I don't normally..." she said, coming up for air, "Do this." There was a pause before she continued, "But... I've been fighting... the urge... all night." He gasped as she lightly bit his neck, and replied, "Me too." That was the last of their conversation for the night, although not their last utterance. When Ross showed up to the lab the next morning, late, Bjorn took one look at him and jokingly asked if he'd slept in a field. Ross just nodded, a slightly goofy grin on his face. CHAPTER Awaking with a start, Nicole realized she didn't know what time it was. She rolled over in bed, and saw that the clock said 10:48. She didn't have to be at work until one, so that wasn't a problem, but she also felt that something was missing. She rolled back over, and realized that the sheets were twisted around her uncomfortably. She untangled them, still groggy. She'd had a very tiring night, but she couldn't quite recall why. It hit her with another jolt: she'd picked up some guy in a bar last night! She found herself shivering a little, as she realized she couldn't even remember his name, and she was pretty sure they'd never traded phone numbers. As her memories of the night came back, she found little cause for regret in the moment, but the regret was hitting hard right now. Not quite knowing what she was doing, she scrambled through her clothes on the floor until she found her phone. She dialed, and after a couple rings, was greeted by Jackson's soothing voice. "Hey, babe, what are you doing up so early?" "Hey. I think I made a big mistake." Her voice was shaky, verging on panic. "Hey, calm down," said Jackson, sensing the impending panic. "What did you do?" "I..." she paused, knowing how this was going to sound. He'd told her over and over that she was far too impetuous in her choice of boyfriends or relationship partners, or whatever you called them. "I picked up a guy in a bar last night." There was a silence on the other end of the line, then Jackson said, "Did you sleep with him?" "Yeah." She looked back at the bed, which showed the evidence of a very active night. "Oh shit, it just felt so right at the time, but..." She trailed off, the quaver in her voice returning. "What did I do?" "Calm down Nicole. Calm down. Did you use protection?" "Yeah. Um." She leaned over and looked in the trash can. "Quite a bit, I guess." "What, did you make him double up or something?" He was trying not to laugh at the image when his friend was obviously so distraught. "No, I mean... There are just a lot of them." "Must have been a good night." "Jackson! Shit! You know this is serious!" She flopped back onto the bed, hardly aware of her surroundings. "Ok, sorry. I know. This is serious. Look, you used protection, right? Were you on anything? Was he?" "No, I don't think so. Well, we'd both had a drink or two..." "One or two, or a lot?" "No, actually just one or two. I think he only had one, and I only had a drink at the bar, and a glass of wine at dinner." "Wait, back up. You went to dinner? With him, or not?" "With him. We went after the bar. I was there early, I mean the show started at 7, and we got to talking, and I said we should go somewhere quieter, and...." She trailed off, as she realized that something wasn't quite right. Her head was making weird scratchy, crinkly noises as she moved it on the pillow. "And what?" He sounded a little impatient to get the whole story. "Hold on." She picked up the piece of paper that she'd been lying on. "Oh!" Her eyes actually started watering as she read through the note, and realized that she was crying. "Babe, what is it?" The voice on the phone was concerned, unable to tell what was happening. She sobbed for a moment, then took a deep breath. "He left me a note!" She made a sound that was half choking sob, and half laughter. "Well, what does it say? Don't leave me hanging here!" She read through it, then said, "It says that he had a good time, and he asks me to call him. He put his phone number down, and his email address." That wasn't quite how the note was phrased, but Nicole felt that it was only fair to keep some of this to herself for now. Jackson's response was cautious. "Well, you know that just because he left you a note doesn't really mean anything." "Yes, it does." She sat staring at the paper before continuing, "It means a lot, but I see what you mean. He could write anything. He could be a total jerk or whatever, but I don't think so." Jackson, at a loss for words and lacking information, didn't reply. "Anyway, things are... better. I'm sorry to call you all in a panic like that, but it was really weird to wake up and suddenly remember all that stuff. I don't want to be anybody's one night stand..." "Yeah, I know. Well, it sounds like you're ok. You mind if I hang up? I've got a hellacious amount of script to memorize today. Call me later." "Yeah, that's fine. Sorry. Um..." She wondered if there was anything else to say, but nothing came to her. "Thanks, Jackson." "No problem. I'd like to hear more about this guy, maybe some time when you're a little bit calmer." "When I have more to tell, you're the first one I'll talk to." Her voice had lost all of its quaver, and she sounded much more confident than she had five minutes before. "Cool. Catch you later." "Later, Jackson." She hung up the phone, and crumpled the note to her chest, smiling up at the ceiling. She fell back on the bed, a blissful grin spread across her face. CHAPTER Mike's on Greenwood had developed a reputation in the last few years as a good restaurant with an excellent bar. It was busy most nights, but never seemed to be quite so busy that you couldn't find a table. The neighborhood of Greenwood had blossomed recently as housing got more and more expensive, being further from downtown Seattle without actually being in a different city. Flanking Mike's on either side were an upscale wine bar and a Mediterranean restaurant punnily named Olive You. Across the street, the McDonalds had been torn down, and replaced by another in the succession of 6 story condo buildings that seemed to sprout like weeds around the outreaches of the city. Its retail spaces supported a jeweler's shop, a branch of the new upscale convenience store called Epicure's Mart, and a yoga studio. Compared to the new tennants, Mike's was refreshingly unpretentious, while still being classy. Nicole and Ross sat in a booth at Mike's, trying to discreetly stare longingly into each others eyes. They'd been going out for just a few weeks, and were still in the honeymoon phase. Nicole especially so, as she'd never had a boyfriend so nice. She kept having the urge to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming, and Jackson had threatened to stop answering his phone if she was just going to call up and sigh at him. Ross was no less smitten. He'd had a smattering of girlfriends over the years, but none of them had lasted very long -- throughout college, and his graduate and doctoral programs, he'd been so intent on his work that little else attracted his attention for long. Working at Talon was different, or at least intense in a different way, and he found that being in a relationship was rewarding in ways he hadn't considered before. "So, tell me more about this Wicca thing," said Ross, after they'd ordered. "Like I said, I've only been doing it a little while," Nicole replied. "It feels weird to talk about a religion that I just fell into on accident, but that's kind of what happened. I'm still figuring things out, but I really like it so far. There's not all the weird focus on patriarchy and stuff I noticed when my mom took me to church." She paused, and laughed. "I guess I wouldn't have called it 'patriarchy' when I was a kid, though. I didn't have a name for it, but I sure saw that there were no women running things, and the only women who showed up in the sermons were either impossibly pure, or impossibly faulty. "My mom raised me; my dad left when I was a baby. I didn't see much of grown men except for the odd teacher at school, so I thought of women as running things. My mom was running the house, and most of the teachers were women. Even the principal at my grade school was a woman, Mrs. Eichoff." "So, Wicca's matriarchal? I vaguely recall hearing that from someone." "Yeah. Well, kind of. I think it's best described as neither patriarchal or matriarchal. It's neither, really. Like, both genders are represented, and there's no difference between them. We invoke both the goddess and the god. I mean, my coven is all women, but there are mixed covens, and all-male covens too, but that's more rare. There seem to be more women than men into Wicca." Ross chuckled. "Yeah, most men don't get more into nature than is required to shoot deer. Most don't even get that far. Worshipping it must seem like the height of insanity to a lot of people." Nicole laughed, then said, "Yeah, I see what you mean. I hope you don't think it's insane." "Nah, it's not insane. There are lots of things to worship. Nature seems like one of the better choices out there, really. If we had more of that, gas probably wouldn't cost $8 a gallon these days, and there'd be a lot fewer people blowing themselves up to prove some obscure political point." "Heh, true. I'm glad you don't think it's crazy. It's really growing on me. I wish I knew more of the ritual stuff, but I'll get it figured out." Nicole smiled across the table at Ross. "What?" "I'm just really glad I met you. You're not a creep at all." "Definitely. I'm glad we've established that so firmly." Nicole laughed. It had become their little in-joke. "Well, if you're interested, I bet Gwendolyn wouldn't mind if you came to a coven meeting. You might like it, you never know." "Yeah, I might like that. Let me know what she says." At this point, their food arrived. The next few minutes passed in silence, punctuated by sultry looks across the table that occasionally made one of them laugh enough to be in danger of spitting out their food. They ended up making a game of trying to make the other laugh just at the moment they took a bite, or had a drink. The rest of the dinner went very well, and they ended up at Ross's apartment in Lynnwood. In fact, they hadn't spent a night apart, which was a novel and refreshing experience for Ross. CHAPTER As she approached the apartment in Lake City where Gwendolyn lived, and where she'd been attending coven meetings for the last month or two, Nicole was a little apprehensive. Things had been going well, but, as always, she felt like a kid playing with the adults. She didn't know enough, and couldn't tell if anyone else was aware of her shortcomings. Gwendolyn buzzed her through the front gate, and Nicole mounted the stairs to the second floor apartment. Across the street from the apartment, she could see a Jack in the Box restaurant, its garish red-and-white sign casting an angry glow over the apartment building. She knocked on the door to the apartment, and was let in. "Greetings, Moon Shadow," said Gwendolyn, as Nicole entered the front room. "You know, my child, tonight is very important." Gwendolyn never seemed to drop out of the pompous language Nicole had noted at her first coven meeting. She nodded mutely, although she wasn't sure why tonight was different than any of the other times she'd been here. The other women were seated around the room, looking relaxed but expectant. Gwendolyn stood at the end of the room, and addressed them all. "Tonight, the full moon coincides with Sowwen," Nicole had no idea what that word was, but would later learn that it was actually spelled "Samhain" and just meant Halloween in Gaelic. Gwendolyn continued, "This being an important date in the Wiccan calendar, I've decided that we will celebrate 'upon the heath,' as the Bard so aptly put it." She smiled mischeviously. "That is to say, this meeting will take place in nature, rather than the articifical confines of a manmade dwelling." With this, she urged everyone to pack up a few necessities from around the apartment, and they packed into the van that Rising Tide, one of the coven members, occasionally drove. They drove for an hour and a half (Gwendolyn assured Rising Tide that her gas costs would be compensated), ending up high in the Cascade mountains, up a fire road. Civilization was miles distant. The moon shone overhead, through broken high clouds. It was surprisingly cold as they stepped out of the van. Gwendolyn herded them into a clearing, and had them set about drawing a pentagram on the ground with chalk dust, which glowed eerily in the moonlight. She placed a candle at each point of the star, although in a concession to the realities of midnight activity in the mountains, they were each in a jar to keep them from blowing out in the sporadic wind. The women took their places around the circle, and started the rhythmic chant they always used to start the rituals of the night. The candles jumped and flickered in their jars, and the moonlight faded in and out as the clouds slowly swept across its face. Gwendolyn spoke for several minutes in a foreign language, which Nicole was coming to realize was Gaelic. She recognized the points where she was supposed to respond, now, and with coaching from Phoenix, had memorized what she was supposed to say. She still didn't know what any of it meant, but it sounded good. Phoenix had said it was an invocation to the god and the goddess, but it could just as easily have been a description of what she'd had for dinner. The Gaelic finished, they all raised their hands, 26 white arms glowing in the moonlight. The wind picked up a bit, billowing robes out dramatically. Nicole found herself suddenly having a very good, if very cold, time. Gwendolyn dropped her arms, as did everyone else. She took out the chalice which had contained Nicole's blood a month ago, and poured something into it. It glistened darkly in the pale blue moonlight. She passed it to her left, and each woman in turn took a sip. It went around again, until the liquid was all gone. To Nicole, it tasted bitter and thick, like a runny milkshake made with bitter herbs instead of ice cream. Almost immediately, she started to feel warmer. Gwendolyn said something else in Gaelic, and the women around her started pulling off their robes. Seeing that Nicole was just standing there, the witch next to her said, "Take off your clothes!" sotto voce. She did as she was told. She was feeling warmer still, so it didn't sound like such a bad idea, anyway. After a moment, there were 13 stark naked women standing around the circle, glowing white in the moonlight. Those who had long hair had let it down. Nicole's short hair moved slightly with the breeze. The wind grew stronger, swirling and blowing from different directions. There was a palpable howling coming from the trees around them. The clouds scudded in front of the moon faster and faster. Without being told, the women suddenly started dancing an undulating, flowing dance around the circle. They linked hands, and threw their arms up to the heavens. The wind fairly whipped through the circle now. The candle flames jumped wildly but remained lit. As they neared their original positions again, the dance grew more frenetic, moving faster and faster. Women started making short shrieks. Moon Shadow couldn't tell if they were shrieks of joy or pain until she made one herself, and realized it was joy. Their hands flew apart, and they started spinning and twirling, thirteen cavorting bodies moving with ever increasing frenzied intensity. The shrieks grew more frequent, and turned into a combined voicing of pure, unrestrained joy. Moon Shadow couldn't stop moving, an immense feeling of happiness and rightness propelling her forward. She giggled as she looked down at the ground at one point, and spotted her own moon shadow as a cloud cleared away from the moon, casting bright light upon them. Her shadow danced with her. Just as the witches were reaching the height of their frenzy, the moon shone brightly again, and the wind picked up further still, until it was blowing so furiously that it was hard to breathe. Moon Shadow felt her skin burning as if she were sunbathing on the hottest summer day. The other women had looks of rapture on their faces as they continued their frantic dance. As they danced, ever faster and faster, Moon Shadow had the impression that their hands were actually tracing glowing lights through the air. Their eyes seemed to trace darkness, which wove between the light trails. The dancing was moving so fast now that she didn't know how she was doing it. She wasn't sure she was touching the ground between leaps. The wind whipped past her, blowing leaves, nature seeming to speed up and burn with the same intensity as their dance. Then, clearly, a deep, gravelly male voice said, "Who summons me from my ancient slumber?" It spoke slowly, distinctly. Moon couldn't tell where it came from, it seemed to reverberate from the very trees and hills around them. One of the women screamed, and fell over. Others started screaming, and rushed towards her. The spell they'd been weaving seemed to fall apart with the screams. Then Moon Shadow saw, at the center of the circle, an enormous face, hovering in midair. It looked like a man's face, but had the curling horns and square pupils of a goat, giving it a very alien appearance. The wind whipped cruelly around her, and she suddenly realized she was very cold. The man's face seemed to look into her soul, like he wanted to devour it. She shied away from him, moving backwards. Everything suddenly seemed alien. The world seemed to tilt around her, and the ground was rising up, pivoting around her feet. That was the last thing she saw before the world went black. CHAPTER The digits read out 3:18, and the little AM dot was illuminated on Ross's clock. He rolled over in bed, trying to sleep, but found himself unable to. He knew that Nicole had a coven meeting tonight, and they could sometimes go late, but he'd been expecting to hear from her before now. They both lived with a cellphone in close proximity all the time, so it was almost always possible for one to contact the other. Ross's phone hadn't rung all night. He'd had no text messages. There were no new pictures or videos. When he'd gotten up to go to the bathroom at 2, there was no new email in his inbox, aside from the expected onslaught of spam. Ross realized that he was worried. He didn't have any right to be, but he was worried about Nicole, who was breaking the pattern of talking to him every night. He didn't want to call her. It was Halloween, and he was sure this meeting would be a big special one, it might even be a party. Parties ran late, right? A person might have a few drinks, and go home tired and just go to bed. That's almost certainly what had happened. He rolled over again, and tried to put his mind at rest. His dog, Hawkeye, was similarly restless, feeling his master's ill ease. A year-old, mild-mannered beagle, Hawkeye was always waiting for Ross when he came home, and loved to go out for walks around Lynnwood, smelling all the different doggie message posts, adding his scent to the mix. Ross had had him since he was a puppy, rescued from a pound. He looked like a typical beagle: rounded features, floppy ears, and a white coat with blotches of grey, black and tan. Ross groaned. "I shouldn't call her, it's too late. She'll be asleep, and she'll be all grumpy that I woke her up." Hawkeye didn't respond, silently eyeing Ross sympathetically in the darkened room. Ross sat up, then lay back down again. He found himself balanced perfectly between wanting to call and make sure that she was ok, and wanting to leave her alone, to let her live her own life without having to be attached at the hip at all times. He spent another 10 minutes rolling around in bed, completely failing to sleep. The shadows of tree branches cast by the streetlight danced across his room, intersected by the regular hatching of a partially closed horizontal blind. The wind was audible outside as occasional blowing gusts, and the moving shadows reminded him of his childhood, when he thought he saw monsters in the shadows of his darkened bedroom. The nightlight had only made the shadows darker, but he had been unwilling to turn it off. He never thought the monsters were trying to get him, he was just aware that they were there. It wasn't a paralyzing fear, it was the same kind of discomfort many people had watching a spider: that thing could bite me if I anger it, and I don't like having it around, but it doesn't terrify me. The shadows tonight seemed to move across his ceiling with greater malicious intent than normal. Ross turned away, rolling on his side again, but that brought the clock into view. Frustrated at its slow division of time, he rolled to the other side before blindly reaching out and groping for his phone. Finding it, he sat up and flipped it open. The backlight was blinding to his dark-adjusted eyes, and he squinted at the screen. He scrolled through the device's memory until he'd highlighted Nicole's number, and pressed the dial button. The phone rang once, then Nicole's voice spoke: "Hi, this is Nicole. You know what to do when it beeps." The voicemail system beeped at him, and he sat silent for a second before hanging up, his mind working up possible scenarios. One ring meant that her phone was either off, or out of range. She never turned it off, and he didn't like the idea that it was out of range at 3:30 in the morning. Suddenly thankful that they'd traded friend codes for their phones, he scrolled through the menus until he found what he was looking for: Friend Status. There was only one entry, Nicole's, and he pressed the Details softkey. He selected Location from the list, and a moment later a map displayed, showing a dot that was northwest of Ellensburg, in the middle of nowhere. The timestamp was hours and hours ago, at 9:39 PM. Feeling a surge of disquiet, he closed the phone. What the hell was she doing near Ellensburg? Tonight was a coven meeting, could they have gone up to the mountains for some reason? Or was she abducted coming out of the meeting? What if some murderer or rapist had nabbed her and failed to turn off her phone? It could happen: someone twisted enough to do that probably wouldn't think of the GPS that was standard in all but the cheapest phones now. Ross realized that he was standing up, and Hawkeye was up too, agitated. The dog pranced around a little bit, excited by Ross's obvious concern, but unable to do anything. He whined a little, but didn't quite start barking. Ross looked down, and patted the dog on the head, reassuring himself as much as Hawkeye. "I have to find Nicole. Something isn't right," he said to the dog. Hawkeye looked up at his master and whined again. Ross considered his situation. He felt a lot better now that he had something to do, although it was possibly a very stupid something. He opened his phone again, and called up the map. He realized it wasn't actually all that close to Ellensburg, but it was still a heck of a drive, and his electric car, while possessed of many good attributes, did not have anywhere near the range for that drive. He remembered that Talon had given him a Zipcar membership as one of the perks for working there, and racked his brains for the login information. He finally located it, scribbled on a piece of paper in one of his poorly organized file boxes. He called up the website, and reserved a nearby car for the next 6 hours. The walk to the car was cold. The wind was gusting all over the place, coming from every direction, changing at several-second intervals. The moon was high in the sky, a cirrus cloud curling around it, producing what would have been a very pretty corona if he'd been watching it hand-in-hand with Nicole. As he wasn't, the whipping wind and baleful glare of the moon only seemed ominous. He got to the car, and cursed. He'd neglected to bring the smartcard that let him into the car. He ran back to the apartment, and rifled through drawers until he finally found the card, clipped to the file folder where he'd found the login information. He put it in his pocket, and was about to leave, when he realized that Hawkeye was dancing around like he had the world's fullest bladder and really didn't want to break his housetraining. "You want to come with me?" The dog barked, once, and walked over to wait by the door. A considerably more coherent response than he normally gave to an English question other than "Wanna eat?" or "Wanna go for a walk?" Ross grabbed the retracting leash, and said, "Ok, but you'd better do any bathroom duties before we get in the car, I'm not stopping until we get there." Talking to the dog felt mildly ridiculous, but it was better than keeping all his thoughts roiling around in his head. He jogged back to the car, stopping once so Hawkeye could copiously mark one of his favorite signal posts, having apparently understood the urgency of the situation. The smartcard worked, and they sped off into the darkness, the hybrid Ford Focus whining and grumbling in response to Ross's urgings. An hour and a half later, he was pulling up to the location marked on the map. It was a desolate place, several miles off Highway 97, somewhere between a dirt road and a gravel road. His phone's screen said he was completely offroad, although it was clearly a Forest Service road or fire road or something. He pressed on, figuring this must be the edge of cell service, where Nicole's phone might have stopped working. The road continued for another few miles, and Ross pulled up behind a rather clapped-out white van that was parked most of the way off the road. He stepped out of the car, and cursed himself for not thinking this through better. He didn't have a flashlight or anything, and his cellphone screen, although bright, wasn't really enough to see by. As he stood, straining all his senses in the darkness, he realized two things. First, the moon was still high enough and bright enough to see by, and two, he could hear voices. Hawkeye heard them too, and bounded out of the car before he could get a leash on the dog. Ross cursed, and tried to follow the little dog through the underbrush. The trees here were short, not stunted, but probably nth generation growth after logging. The undergrowth was thick, a knotted tangle of ferns and blackberries, so that he was quickly covered in cuts and scrapes. He heard Hawkeye's voice baying a little bit ahead of him. The voices had dissappeared. Left with no choice, he pressed on, towards the dog's voice. All of a sudden, the undergrowth thinned, and he found himself standing in a field. The grass was tall, but he could see to his left, had been trampled down by something. He could hear Hawkeye ahead of him, making whimpering noises, and scampering around. Suddenly, a commanding woman's voice called out, "Who's there? We're armed!" Ross stopped short, shocked into stillness. He then replied, "My name's Ross Hansen, I'm looking for Nicole Giambatista!" He didn't know who he was addressing, but figured the truth was the best tactic. "Ross!" Nicole's voice shocked him again, and he moved toward it. She came running at him, saying, "Ross! Oh my god, Ross, you're here, you're here!" She clasped him around the chest, and started sobbing. As she sobbed, she tried talking, but all Ross could make out was something about Maeve, and the van, and phones not working. He was at a loss as to what she was talking about, when he realized that there were a number of women standing a few paces off, wearing insufficient clothing for the cold. The woman with the commanding voice said, over Nicole's sobs, "Ross, you have appeared at our time of need, we are indeed thankful." He looked up from Nicole, who clung tightly to him, and said, "What's going on?" "I'll spare you the details, but in brief, our coven meeting here has ended in tragedy. One of our number has perished, although we know not how," the woman cast her eyes down. She looked up again after a moment. "We discovered that the van which brought us here will no longer run, and indeed seems to have been inhabited by a malign spirit which none of us can withstand. We're outside the service area of any of our cellular phones. If you can help us by taking me back out to a cellular service area, it would be most appreciated. I need to call the authorities, and report poor Maeve's passing." Ross suddenly realized what she was saying. "Wait, someone died out here?" His voice was tinged with panic. Gwendolyn blinked. "Yes. Maeve Novato, one of our coven." She turned, and waved her had back at what Ross had not previously seen, but would have assumed was a pile of discarded clothing. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was indeed a body, lying in a curious sort of repose underneath a robe. He stepped back and shuddered. Taking another step backwards, he quickly spun and ran a few steps before falling down on his hands and knees, vomiting. He looked up to find a circle of women standing around him, looks of concern faintly visible on their faces in the intermittent moonlight. He stood up, feeling embarrased, and unconsciously wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Sorry. I've... I've never seen a dead body before." He looked at the ground, wondering if he was going to throw up again. "You are not alone," said Gwendolyn, putting an arm around his shoulder, and pulling him into a hug. She released him, and held him at arm's length. "Please, will you help us by taking me back towards civilization and its services?" "I'm coming too!" Nicole stumbled forward, grabbing Ross's arm as if he would disappear at any moment. "Of course dear," said Gwendolyn. She addressed Ross, "How many will your car hold?" "Uh, just four, I think. It's pretty small." "Let the three of us go. We will come back in a few minutes, once I've made the appropriate phone calls. Sisters, have no fear, we've done no wrong, Maeve's death is not on any of our hands." The remaining 10 women, sitting and standing in the moonsoaked field, silently nodded their assent. As Ross turned, he spotted the remnants of the eerily white pentagram on the ground. It looked as though someone had tried, with marginal success, to kick it apart. CHAPTER Ross called in sick that day. By the time he'd returned to the field (and having been directed to the clear path several yards to the left of where he'd pushed through brambles), the moon was setting, but the eastern horizon was starting to glow with the impending dawn. The women of the coven had tried to sleep, but no one was having any luck. Around sunrise, they heard approaching sirens, and Gwendolyn walked calmly out to the Forest Service road to flag down the ambulance. The EMTs bustled out with their bags of equipment, followed by a couple of police officers, who took statements. To Ross's ear, the statements sounded suspiciously similar and rehearsed, but he wasn't about to say anything while the police were around. Maeve's body was hauled away on a stretcher, and the ambulance solemnly reversed down the road with a beep-beep noise until it found a turn-around. The police had arrived in two cars, so between the two police cars and Ross's rental, they were able to get everyone out in one relatively crowded trip. Nicole had calmed down and stopped hyperventilating by the time the police arrived, but it had been replaced by a dead-eyed 1000-yard stare that was at least as unnerving. She responded to questions as they drove back to Seattle, but her answers were monosyllabic, and delivered in a dull voice. Ross tried to restrain himself from simply repeating, "Are you going to be alright?" every 5 minutes. Hawkeye, sitting in the lap of Micha in the back seat, was subdued. They managed to time the return to Seattle just at the peak of morning rush-hour. Although traffic had decreased since gas prices went so high, it was still an extra hour on their trip, with slow traffic all the way from North Bend. Ross dropped the other two women off at their requested destinations, and by the time he and Nicole were alone in the car, it was already 10 in the morning. "What do you want to do?" He tried to speak tenderly, but despite his efforts, Nicole burst out crying, her face buried in her hands. At a loss for what else to do, Ross started driving back to her apartment. No one had told him what really happened, and Ross wasn't buying the "We were sitting around the circle praying when Maeve suddenly collapsed" story. All the women had been acting very strange, jumping at nothing, with a haunted look in their eyes, although for all he knew that's how they normally acted. Nicole, he knew, was acting very differently from normal, with none of her normal vivaciousness evident. She was acting like a mental patient more than anything else, reminding him of the Jack Nicholson character in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest after the lobotomy. They arrived, and Ross got out, followed closely by Hawkeye. Nicole's face was still covered by her hands, but she'd leaned the seat back. He opened her door, but she showed no inclination to get out. "Honey, do you want to go up to your apartment?" He waved in the general direction of her apartment door, although she wasn't looking. She nodded, and pulled her hands down from her face. She tried to get up, but was hampered by the seatbelt, which she didn't seem to understand. Ross reached in and unfastened it. She stood up out of the car, or at least tried to. Ross caught her as her knees seemed to give out. Supporting her with his left hand, he closed the car's door with his right hand. She didn't seem able to walk, so Ross took a deep breath, and picked her up. She was lighter than he'd expected. Hawkeye tagged along obediently, without being told. Inside her apartment, he lay her down on the bed as her cat came up to investigate. Apparently satisfied that it wasn't receiving a snack, it turned and wandered off. Nicole opened her eyes, seeing Ross for the first time in a while. "Oh!" she started, and sat up quickly. Ross backed up, trying to stay out of her way. She looked around the room, and seemed to calm down. "How did I get here?" She looked confused, unsure of what was happening. "What are you doing here?" "You don't remember anything about last night? Up on the mountain? Maeve?" Nicole sat silent for a moment. Ross could hear something ticking rhythmically in another room. "Oh," she said again. "I do, I think. But I can't tell what's real and what's imagined. We were up there doing a fairly normal invocation, but then things got really weird. We took our clothes off, which we've never done before. But, I wasn't cold, I was warm, even though it was really cold outside." She looked up at Ross, then continued. "There was a lot of dancing. I've never danced like that before, and I bet I couldn't do it now if I tried. There was... a lot of wind. And the moon. And then, someone screamed, and Maeve... Maeve fell down. But there was more than that. There was someone else there." She stopped, staring straight ahead, into space. Ross waited, wondering if he should prompt her to continue, when she started speaking again. "There was a man there, only he wasn't a man. He was like a man, but he was also like a goat or a horse or something. His eyes were weird. I think he had horns. That doesn't make any sense. I must be imagining that." "What did the rest of him look like," asked Ross. "Did he have goat's legs, too? Like Pan?" "I don't know," she paused, looking thoughtful. "I think all I saw was his face. I don't remember seeing his body at all. There were candles lit, and they didn't go out even in all that wind. It was like being in a scene from a movie, it's almost like I was watching from the outside as things happened." She paused again, and looked over at Ross. "Is Maeve going to be alright?" "Ah..." Ross had exactly no idea how to respond to that, so he answered in the only way he could think to. "Maeve died last night. They're going to do an autopsy, the medic said. No one's said she might have died from foul play, but the cops showed up and took statements. Do you remember that?" Her face looked blank as she tried to remember. "No, I don't remember that. I do remember you showing up, but that's it. It's like I fell asleep then, and didn't wake up until just now. It feels like a dream. But we came here in a car, right? Not your normal car." "Yeah, I rented a Zipcar. Oh, shit," he flipped open his cellphone to check the time. "I was supposed to have that back an hour ago!" "Don't go!" Ross stopped moving instantly, and sank back to the squatting position he'd been in before. "Please don't go, I don't want to be alone right now." "Could you come with me? We could come back here in my normal car, then I don't have to worry about time or anything. I already called in sick for today." She hesitated, looking apprehensively around the room. "I don't know," she said, finally. "I guess so. Let's try that." She stood up, her knees looking less like they would collapse at any moment. Ross kept a concerned eye on Nicole, but they made it out to the little Ford without incident, and she seemed to have come back to life a bit. They drove back to the car's parking spot, and walked the few blocks back to his apartment, where he set out food and water for Hawkeye, who was looking droopy after all the excitement of the night. They returned to her apartment, where Nicole quickly fell asleep, clinging tightly to Ross. For his part, Ross found that he couldn't sleep. CHAPTER Jennifer walked carefully into Ross's DNA sequencing room in the lab, carying a tray of test tubes full of murky fluid. "Got a fresh batch for ya!" she said, cheerfully. "These are from the Epsilon series, should be pretty interesting stuff in here." She set the tray down on the counter next to his work area. "Thanks," he said as he finished typing something on the computer. "How's your stuff going?" "Pretty good. Actually, really good. I've been getting some amazing results with the fertility treatment we're working on. You should see some of the subjects we've got in the cages now." She glanced back through the door, in the direction of the cage room. "Hey," she said, turning back to Ross, "Did you hear about that thing on the news this morning?" "Which thing? I mean, no, I don't really pay a lot of attention to the news." "Oh, they caught some guy running around Georgetown, claiming he had the power to read minds and shape thoughts. Thing is, he actually got the camera guy to spin around and show the news van. And the reporter dropped his pants on command; he was wearing boxers with hearts on. It was the weirdest thing. The cops couldn't touch him, for some reason, and he finally ran off. He looked like a lunatic to me, you know, unshaved, dirty clothes, the whole bit. It was just kind of spooky how the news people responded to him like they were robots or something. Anyway, I have an amazing amount of titration to do, see you later!" She smiled and disappeared in a whirl of lab coat. Ross went back to his sequencing program, trying to interpret results he couldn't quite believe. CHAPTER The TV quietly played in the background as Nicole dialed her phone. She was in a considerably better mood, nearly a week having passed since the tumultuous night on the mountain. She listened to the phone, then made a sour face. After a moment, she said, "Jackson, you skank-butt, you should answer your phone. Where have you been, Jupiter? You've left me for another play, haven't you!" She pressed the disconnect button, and set the phone down. The TV was playing images of what seemed to be someone flying through the air on a broom. Must be one of those jokey fake news shows, or something from one of the zillion Harry Potter ripoff movies, she thought to herself, killing the power with a flourish of the remote. Her cat, Zipper, watched the remote idly, apparently trying to decide if it was worth getting up to bat at it. Zipper was an odd cat. Otherwise a perfectly normal-looking tabby, he had a thin line of black fur down his spine, which reminded everyone who looked at it of a zipper. His name was inevitable. In the years she'd had him, he'd gone from a feisty kitten to a lazy, overweight cat. She still loved him, but he was definitely fat. Just like the rest of the country, she thought. Zipper heaved to his feet, still eyeing the remote, which Nicole had set down on the little coffee table, among the clutter. He jumped to the coffee table, skidding a bit on a scattered stack of paper, and pawed listlessly at the little silver-colored remote. "Zipper! Cut it out," said Nicole, waving a hand at him. He slowly blinked at her, then jumped off the table and wandered off. "Silly cat," she said. She heaved a sigh, and got up from the couch to get ready for work. CHAPTER The cage room at Talon Genetics had been expanded into the neighboring office. There were so many successful hybrid lines being researched right now that they were running out of cages. The lab had been buzzing in the last few days over what had seemed like a dead-end hybrid, to be tested for the sake of completeness only. The problem was, it had worked. There were jokes about how the egg really had come first, but the lab had produced an egg from solution. There was a pool running, with 15:1 odds that the egg wouldn't be viable. There was also a surprising amount of side-betting on what would hatch, if it was viable. Some joker had X-rayed a chicken egg just before it hatched, and grafted Brian's face into the image, then posted a printout of the picture near the egg, labeled, "Brian's love child." Around 2 pm that afternoon, a thrill passed through the whole lab, and people crowded into the room that contained the egg's incubator. The egg had started rocking, and it looked like it was about to hatch. The half-dozen people who were right in front of the incubator started a running commentary every time anything happened. "It just moved again." "15 degree rotation about the vertical axis," quipped someone, mocking someone else's pedantic tone. There was a gasp as the first cracks appeared, and further excited reaction as a little beak started to poke through the egg. Slowly, the creature's head emerged, and there was a palpable sense of letdown. It was just raptor, a hawk or an eagle, after all. Some of the scientists had actually turned to leave when someone shouted. Then lots of people started shouting. The eagle had emerged further from the egg, and instead of wings, it had little tiny paws. CHAPTER The next coven meeting was subdued. Gwendolyn had them file into the ritual room in her apartment, which was the same as ever, but felt empty with Maeve's spot standing vacant. Gwendolyn led them through a ritual of mourning, which seemed to take on a palpable sense of reality around them. The fabric-draped walls themselves seemed to feel the sadness of the group. It was around that time that each of the witches started hearing something unexpected. They each thought they could hear Maeve's voice, singing tunelessly as she was wont to do. As they looked around, they realized that all of the other women were reacting the same way. Micha was the first to break their silence. "Do you all hear that too?" There was a chorus of assent, followed by more silence, as everyone strained to listen. Gwendolyn called out, her voice strident, "Maeve, if you can hear me, come towards my voice." She stopped and listened again, her head cocked to the side. It was Nicole who first spotted it. Across the circle from her, behind the row of women, and about where Maeve would have normally sat, there was a light. She cried out and pointed. There was no candle there, and no light should have been coming from there, but there was definitely a light there. More distinctly now, Maeve's voice said, "Hi guys!" The two women on either side of the light scrambled out of the way, one of them knocking over a tall candle holder, the candle blowing out before it hit the ground. The light grew dimmer. Not exactly dimmer, Nicole realized, but more diffuse. She watched with amazement as the light actually spread out and took shape in a way she'd never seen before, finally settling on a bizarre-looking but unmistakable approximation of Maeve's face drawn in negative. "Maeve!" The cry was echoed by several women at once, but Gwendolyn shushed them, eventually getting silence. "Maeve, how have you come to us?" she asked, staring intently at the greyish light-picture of Maeve's face. The face changed slightly, slowly morphing so that it started to smile. The lips didn't move, but Maeve's voice said, "I'm not really sure. I was somewhere else, then I found myself coming here." Her voice had grown more distinct, and Nicole realized that she wasn't actually hearing it with her ears. She plugged them, and confirmed that Maeve's voice was just as distinct with her ears plugged up as with them open. Gwendolyn had noticed Nicole's move to plug her ears, and nodded. "Maeve, you are a spirit now, are you not?" "I guess so. I don't seem to have a body any more." "How are you able to make yourself seen?" "I don't know. I'm just trying to be visible, or something. There aren't words in English for it. I'm not very good yet. I guess you could call it ghosting." The circle of women was surprisingly calm, considering that they were conversing with the weeks-dead companion they'd seen fall at the appearance of a massive goat-man's head. Gwendolyn spoke again. "What's happening, Maeve? Can you see into our world? Strange things are happening, and no one knows why." "I think something's different. There are a lot of spirits around, but I don't really know how to talk to them. Something changed real recently. I think... I don't know what it is. Something's different." The Maeve-face distorted, now resembling more a cloud of light than anything else. "I think I have to go now. It was cool seeing you guys again." The cloud started to fade, and the last thing they heard was a very faint, "Bye!" Nicole started sobbing again, and indeed Gwendolyn was the only woman in the room who didn't look unhappy. Gwendolyn had a look of frowning thoughtfulness on her face. CHAPTER Talon Genetics was in a very quiet uproar. Impossible hybrids were now appearing every day, against all logic. The griffon which had hatched a few days ago had now been joined by a veritable menagerie of fantastic creatures. Someone had brought in a couple reference books on mythology, and the mythology websites were getting hit hard, at least by the lab. There was a particularly high note of quiet uproar when a large, leathery egg hatched a tiny red-and-green mottled dragon, which promptly set someone's labcoat on fire. The cage room had to be fireproofed, and Brian ordered in a pallet of firebrick to line the dragon's cage. Brian was sitting at his desk in the midst of the quiet chaos, when the phone rang. He grabbed at it, shoving back a small pile of paper that threatened to topple as the handset cord was pulled from underneath it. "Talon Genetics, this is Brian Jensen," he said in to the handset. He listened for a moment, then flushed a little. He said, "No sir, I assure you, that report was completely accurate." He paused, listening again, then flushed a deeper shade of red. "Sir," he said stiffly, "I am a scientist. I do not 'make up stories.' Nor do I allow the scientists in my employ to fabricate evidence or falsify reports. I reviewed that document, and although I won't swear that every detail is 100% verified, the major points are all true and accurate." He listened again, the hard set to his face remaining. "I see," he said. "If you'd be interested in coming to visit the lab, I can assure you that you will change your mind." Pause. "Yes, sir, I understand Washington State is quite a distance from Virginia. Yes. Well, no, but... Yes. No, sir, I invite you to come visit, or send someone you trust who doesn't have a full a schedule. I guarantee what appears in that report is correct. Yes... Yes, I can do that. Which would you like, sir? I'll have it shipped out right away." Brian hung up the phone, his head spinning. He stood, and walked quickly to the biology lab, where he found Wu Cho sitting at his computer. "Wu!" The plump middle-aged man jumped, not having heard Brian's arrival. He looked up. "What can I help you with, Brian?" His screen showed a false-color photograph of something very organic-looking. "Do we have any of those advanced hybrids ready for dissection?" The lab had taken to calling the fantastic creatures "advanced hybrids," lacking a better term. "Well," Wu paused, uncertain how to explain. "We've been having a bit of trouble with that. Most of the advanced hybrids don't respond to normal euthanization methods. I'm having to look each one up." He looked sheepish. "What do you mean, 'look each one up?'" Wu gestured over at a copy of Bullfinch's Mythology. Brian's face went red. "You're kidding, right?" "No," Wu's face was abjectly miserable. He'd actively ridiculed the Liberal Arts students when he was studying biology at Berkeley, saving his worst scorn for the Mythology and Folklore majors. It was very embarrassing to be looking up scientific information in a book detailing what he had considered to be the lies of credulous people. "The ones which involve virtue," Wu said, continuing, "are particularly difficult. We're not sure how to quantify virtue, as it seems to be a culturally-defined value, and I'm not a sociologist. The ones which use silver are pretty straight forward, but a lot of them decompose very quickly. You might say," he again looked miserable, "that they turn to dust. I haven't made much progress with my examinations." He glanced back at his computer screen, as if to reassure himself that he had been doing billable work when Brian came in. Brian, still standing in the doorway to the room, considered. "This is," he finally said, "a sticky situation." Wu nodded, agreeing. He now regretted not bringing his difficulty to Brian's notice earlier. "I need a sample I can send to DOD in the next few hours. What can you do for me? The more fantastic the better." Jens's face scrunched up apologetically. "The more fantastic, the harder to euthanize, seems to be the case. Let me see what I can do. Why," he asked, apparently as an afterthought, "do you have to send a sample to DOD?" "They don't believe us." CHAPTER Nicole had been having her own odd experiences. On Jackson's advice, she'd picked up a bunch of books on Wicca and witchcraft early on, before she was involved in the coven. Jackson had explored all the religions he could find before deciding that he wasn't really interested in any of them, and in the process had collected a great deal of information on good books that dealt with various religious subjects. A couple nights ago, after work, she'd pulled down a few of them, and started going through them, inspired by all the weird stuff that seemed to have been happening. After the goat-man's head had appeared on the mountaintop, her perspective had subtly shifted, and suddenly she was seeing evidence of strangeness everywhere. She hadn't consciously acknolwledged the change in herself until a couple nights ago, which had prompted her to look at the books. Flipping through "An ABC of Witchcraft" had been illuminating. She'd tried reading some of John Dee's work when Jackson had been interested in witchcraft, but found it very hard to read. She still had a book which contained some of his writing, and pulled it down now. She flipped through until she found the section by Dee. It had been transcribed to print, so at least she didn't have to read his illegible longhand. The text was about angels, she quickly realized, and appeared to be a diary entry describing a contact he'd had with them. He described a numerologically significant matrix of digits, which he'd determined by studying patterns in the Bible, and laid out in the diary entry. Intrigued, Nicole pulled out a sheet of paper, and copied out the matrix in a large, careful hand. He didn't describe exactly how he'd contacted the angels, just that it had involved this matrix. She wondered to herself how one would go about contacting an angel. It was almost too silly to ponder -- there were no angels, no matter if she'd seen Maeve's ghost or not. Spirits of the recently departed were one thing... She paused, mid-thought. The matrix had changed. Or had it? Maybe she'd transcribed it wrong. She glanced back at the book, confirming each number in its place. She must have done it wrong. She discarded the paper, and made a new one, double-checking each number. Then she went back through it, confirming that each number was correct and in the right position. She glanced back at the book, but it contained no more enlightenment for her. When she looked back at her matrix, it was different! Somehow, it had changed, so that two of the numbers had swapped places. She didn't really understand the reasoning behind the numerical layout, but tried experimentally erasing two other numbers and swapping their positions. This time, she kept a careful eye on the sheet. Nothing actually moved. She was certain she hadn't blinked, but another two numbers had swapped position, almost as if the reality of the paper had been altered. She looked around, but nothing about the room seemed odd. Still, she felt a chill run down her spine. What was happening? She erased two numbers, and swapped their positions again. Once again, two more numbers modified themselves before her eyes, again without appearing to move or shift -- she was simply aware that a moment before they'd been different. "Is anyone there?" She spoke tenatively, feeling somewhat silly. She waited, but nothing happened. "Come... come to the sound of my voice. I won't hurt you," she said, repeating something she'd read about ghost hunting. She looked around the room, but there was nothing to see. She looked back at the paper, but it hadn't changed again. She tried swapping two more numbers, and again the response was repeated. "I wish I knew what I was saying!" she said to herself, frustrated. At that moment, she heard a strange sound. It was like English speech running backwards at variable speed, with the occasional strangled consonant thrown in. It was very quiet, though, and she almost thought she hadn't heard it, when she realized that not only had she heard the noise, but she suddenly understood it! The meaning had manifested in her head: "Do not fear, I am the angel Thessael." Looking around, Nicole stood up. The room looked perfectly normal. There was nothing to see but her piles of clothes, stacks of books, and little cluttered make-up area. She went over to the mirror, and looked at her face. She looked normal enough. How would your face look if you had gone crazy? "Thessael?" She spoke uncertainly. Would an angel understand English? Could an angel *not* understand English? More garbled speech. Long, building sibilants clashed with sudden vowel sounds, and she found once again that the meaning appeared in her mind: "I was brought here by your numerical matrix. It has been a long time." "Why... Why are you here? Hasn't anyone tried this before?" Again, the meaning appeared to her as incomprehensible speech played out: "Not for centuries." Nicole refused to believe this. The book she'd copied the matrix from clearly had to have had the same effect as her writing out the numbers. She said, "But this book," she waved at the book, uncertain if she was being seen, "has the same numbers in it. Why didn't that call you?" The voice didn't respond immediately. After a pause, though, she heard more backwards speech, at the edge of hearing. "I was not aware of this attempt," she understood. "What?" She realized that her incredulity had been spoken aloud, and hastily continued, "Is it because I wrote them out by hand? Didn't..." she quickly flipped the book over and read the name on the spine, "Howard Yates write his notes by hand? This book is, like, 100 years old. Well, that's when it was published anyway." Her last sentence was very off-hand, but the voice responded. "I was not aware of it. Your call was the first I've felt in many many years." "Why can you... find them now?" She glanced down at the sheet of paper, but it was unchanged. "The world is changing. I am seeing and feeling the world as I have not for many centuries. The world of humans had been closed off to me." "But why?" "I do not know." Nicole had no idea what to say next. She desperately wanted to call Jackson, but how do you end a conversation with an angel? "I.... Thank you, Thessael, for talking with me." It sounded really lame, but it was all she could come up with. "I have enjoyed it," came the reply. She waited, wondering if that was it, or if she actually had to ask the angel to leave. Would that even work? She thought angels, like God, were all-seeing. Her impatience got the better of her, and she grabbed her phone, quickly punching up Jackson's number. The phone rang four times, and his voicemail message started playing. "No, dammit!" She cursed, then felt a cold flush. What if cursing now had power? Obviously something had changed, and it was big. She resolved to be more careful. The thought of inadvertently damning someone or something to Hell suddenly seemed disturbingly possible. She tried his number again, and this time he picked up the phone. "What?" he said, sounding annoyed, then quickly changing his tone. "Oh, hi babe, what's up? Sorry, I was just watching the TV. You might want to turn it on." "Oh, ok," she said, and walked into the next room. She flopped down on the couch, and clicked on the little flat panel. "Which.... channel." Her voice went flat, as the screen warmed up quickly and showed her a dark picture. There, on the screen, was a surprisingly close-up image of a dragon flying through the sky. She watched as it swooped down, and she got a sense of perspective as it passed in front of a house. It was the size of an airliner. "Do you see it?" he asked. "Yeah," she said, wonderingly. "Is that what I think it is? This is news, isn't it." "Yeah," he replied. "It's a dragon. Not only that, it breathes flame, and has already started three different fires. It's out by the mountains right now." "What the He..." she stopped herself, "heck is going on?" "I think," said Jackson, "magic has come back to the Earth." CHAPTER "What do you mean, magic has come back to the Earth?" It all gelled in her mind. She knew he was right, but she desperately hoped he had more insight into it than she did. "Just what I said. You might want to come over." "Shit, that's like 45 minutes on a bus, Jackson." "I bet it's not." He must have been smiling into the phone. "Do you have a broom?" "You're kidding." "Nope. I tried it myself. The trick is to will yourself to fly, like you would in a lucid dream." "I've never had a lucid dream in my life. How do I will myself to fly?" "Just give it a try. If you do it inside, you might want to wear a bike helmet or something." Nicole's response was cut off by a scream from a nearby apartment. It was absolutely blood-curdling. She said, "Someone just screamed, I have a feeling I know what's going on." "Be careful. You don't have any idea what could happen. The last time there was magic on the Earth, there were probably under a million people on the whole planet. Things are gonna be different this time." "Yeah," she said, walking quickly out of her front door. It wasn't obvious which apartment the scream had come from, she realized. There was no magic leaking under the door to give it away. It had been a woman's scream, though, and she knew that her neighbor to the left was a middle-aged guy who didn't date anyone, so she tried her neighbor to the right. She knocked on the door, and waited. A moment later, she heard footsteps, and the door was cautiously opened to the extent allowed by the safety chain. A woman looked out through the crack. She'd obviously been crying, her eyes were puffy and red. "Mary?" Nicole's face reflected alarm. "Are you ok?" "I'm... I don't know. It's Jeremy... I'm sorry." She pushed the door closed, and Nicole heard rattling. A moment later, the door opened wide. "Come in," said Mary. "What's going on?" asked Jackson over the phone. Nicole jumped. She'd forgotten she still had the phone pressed to her ear. "I don't know. Look, I'll call you back, ok?" "Yeah. Give the broom thing a try, but be careful and don't panic. Talk to you soon." "I'll call you right back," Nicole said, then closed her phone. Mary had led her into a bedroom. Nicole felt disoriented, since Mary's apartment was a mirror image of her own, so everything felt backwards. Looking down at the bed, she saw a person huddling under the bedclothes. Well, it was sort of like a person. Even through the obscuring fabric, Nicole could tell that something wasn't right. "Jeremy," said Mary, sniffling loudly. "It's ok. It's Nicole from next door." Nicole had a vague memory of seeing Jeremy in the last few weeks. He was a handsome kid with blond hair who went to the local middle school. He was maybe 12 or 13. When she'd last seen him, Nicole remembered Jeremy toting a ratty old Pokemon backpack full of school books. The sheets slowly dropped, and Nicole was greeted by the sight of the most grotesque person she'd ever seen. He was green, first of all. His skin had a pallid, oily look to it, and was the dark green color of some kind of toad. There were numerous lumps scattered around his face, his hands were also covered, she could see as they became visible. His nose was too long and pointy, and his ears were severely pointed, ending in little tufts of grey-brown hair. For all that, Nicole could see Jeremy's face hiding in there, although distorted. "What happened?" she said quietly, breathing harder than she really wanted to. "I don't know," said Mary, equally quietly. "He was sick the last few days, we thought it was just a cold. He threw up a few times, then his skin started to change. Suddenly," her eyes filled with tears, "he looks like this!" She rushed over to the hunched creature that resembled a very distorted Jeremy and started openly weeping, hugging him to her chest. "Oh, my baby!" The Jeremy-goblin looked pleadingly at Nicole, exactly the look she expected from any young teenager confronted with a weeping mother. She was tempted to laugh, but the sight of him was very unsettling. His fingers were too long, and it looked like he was developing arthritis in his knuckles; they were too bulbous compared to the thinness of his fingers. "I'm... I'm sorry, Mary," Nicole turned and fled out of the room. Mary didn't seem to notice, and Jeremy didn't say anything. She quietly closed the front door to Mary's apartment, and went back into her own. Unexpectedly, she felt her gorge rising, and dashed for the bathroom, just making it in time. She emerged a few minutes later, spent. She picked up her phone again, and hit the redial button. Jackson quickly answered. "What was it?" "You know my neighbor, Mary?" "I guess so. Not really, why?" "She has a son, Jeremy. Cute kid. Well, he was a cute kid. Now, he's a goblin." "You mean he's a terror, or he's actually a little green man?" "Little green man." "Oh." Jackson sounded like there was more he wanted to say, but he didn't continue. Finally, he said, "That's gonna happen more." "Can I grab Ross and come over?" Nicole suddenly didn't want to be alone. "Yeah, come on over. Be careful. I, ah... I discovered that thoughts are a bit more powerful now than they used to be." "That sounds bad." "Yes and no. You'll see, come on over. I doubt I'm getting much sleep any time soon." Nicole called Ross, and gave him the briefest of updates. He agreed with her that being alone right now seemed like a bad idea, and was sitting in her parking lot within 20 minutes, his Whitestar silent after it'd whirred to a stop. "Hey," she said, climbing in. They exchanged a brief kiss, and he said, "What's going on?" "Jackson thinks magic has come back." Ross pursed his lips, and backed the car out of the parking spot. He turned around to look forward, and started driving. "I think the same thing," he finally said, looking over at Nicole. "Does your coven leader know what's going on?" "Good question," said Nicole, as much to herself as to Ross. CHAPTER Gwendolyn had a fair idea. She had laid out an elaborate spread of vials, bottles, herbs, and a mortar and pestle. She was working slowly and deliberately, referring frequently to a hand-written book that was decorated with burgundy stitching on the attractive grey suede cover. She hummed tunelessly to herself as she worked. Within a few minutes, she had a small cup prepared. It hissed and steamed. She took notes in her book, describing what was happening. She took up the cup, and put it to her lips. Thinking of something, she set it back down, and wrote out an explanatory note in her book. Her cat, Theo, was sitting on the table, watching her attentively. "Theo, I'm not sure what sort of journey I'm about to embark upon. I may not see you again." The cat continued eyeing her, unblinking. "If I don't come back, I recommend you take up mousing, only this time, you'll have to eat them, too." It finally blinked, stood up, and stretched. Then it walked over and head-butted her chin. She smiled, wrinkles forming around her eyes. "I love you too." She put the cup to her lips and drank deeply. The room filled with coruscating blue and green light, sparks flying off to disappear into the carpet without making a mark. The pale purple steam given off by the reaction settled like an oily, supercooled gas in a high school science experiment. Where Gwendolyn had sat before, she still sat, but it was no longer the same Gwendolyn. She was 30 years younger, sitting more upright, and with a beatific smile on her face. She beamed at the cat, then said, "Ahhhhh. That's better." CHAPTER Ross and Nicole arrived at Jackson's Capitol Hill apartment around 11. The world still seemed relatively normal, although Nicole kept seeing things out of the corner of her eye which weren't there when she glanced over. Jackson buzzed them up, and in a moment they were standing in his tiny studio. "Hey, good to see you," said Jackson, enfolding Nicole in a hug. He shook Ross's hand. He and Ross had met before, although only once. Ross had certainly heard about Jackson from Nicole, and was unsure whether to be jealous or not. Jackson waved them over to a small couch pushed up against one wall. As Ross looked around, he was amazed at the cleanliness of the apartment. Then he realized that, living in a space this small, your choice is either eternal, layers-deep clutter or strict organization. There was no space for a middle ground. "So," said Jackson, settling back into a chair pushed against the opposite wall. There was a TV partially blocking the window to his right, which was glowing with images of the dragon flying around, although the sound was off. "The world has gone kind of crazy." He smiled a little crookedly. Nicole noticed that his forehead has a swollen bump on it, and wondered if that was the source of his advice about wearing a helmet. Ross laughed, and Nicole joined in. "You can say that again," said Ross. "I have an idea what's going on. I told Nicole on the phone, and in case she hasn't told you yet, Ross: I think magic has come back to the world." "But why?" Nicole's voice was pitched higher than she wanted, and she tried to relax. "I don't know, but did you notice the date?" "What does the date have to do with it?" asked Ross. "Well, look. Today's the 25th of November, right? Not much there. But look at the year." "What, 2012?" "Yeah. Doesn't that ring any bells?" "No," said Ross, but Nicole cut in, "Oh yeah!" "What?" Ross looked at Nicole, feeling himself to be in the dark. "2012... It's when the Incan..." Nicole was cut off by Jackson. "Mayan." "Oh right, the Mayan calendar ends. It's the end of some big era or something." Jackson took up the explanation. "The end of the Mayan calendar is December 21st, 2012. People have been talking about it for a long time. They finally nailed down the date of the calendar's beginning in the 1950s, which set the end date. interest has been growing in what happens on that date ever since. The Mayans obviously thought something would happen, but no one knows what." He picked up a book that was on the table next to the TV. Ross's eye was drawn to the image of the dragon, and he realized that it must be playing on a loop. Jackson continued, holding up the book to show it off. "I was reading up on this a little bit. You can check the Internet, but it's mostly full of kooks and crackpots. Some of it's pretty entertaining, but actual scholars are easier to read." He grinned. "Anyway, we're damn close..." he paused, looking at Nicole who obviously wanted to say something. "Um," she shrank down a little. "I think swearing is a bad idea. I think I was talking to an angel tonight. I have this idea that words may have a bit more power now." Jackson grinned widely, then said, "You're probably right. Good call." Nicole beamed at having thought of something Jackson hadn't, a rarity between them. "Right, so where was I?" "Da... er, darn close, you said," replied Ross. "Oh right. So we're darn close to that date, it's just a month away. I think we're starting to see the effects of the change the Mayans predicted. It looks to me like magic is coming back. Nicole, you were talking to an angel. Let me guess, John Dee, right?" Nicole nodded. "So, you probably got to hear Enochian. First human in a long time, although I don't know why it worked for Dee -- if my Mayan theory is right, magic probably last worked about 5000 years ago. Well," he looked down at the book, "5125.36 years, to be precise. That's the start of the Mayan calendar, anyway." "Wait," said Nicole, interrupting, "5000 years ago? How could Dee's numbers have worked for him, then? Were there really actual witches in the middle ages?" "I dunno. It's just a theory right now. My best guess is that maybe Dee was a really powerful man, so he brought some magic with him or something, or maybe the angels don't necessarily depend on magic existing. But it seems to have helped. How did you call your angel?" "I used a sort of a number chart I copied out of his diary." "Oh, ok, yeah. I vaguely recall that. John Dee," Jackson said to Ross, who was looking confused, "was big into talking with angels. He wrote down all sorts of stuff about doing it, even wrote down their language, which he called Enochian. The guy was considered a shyster for a long time, but he did a lot of good, real-world stuff too. "Anyway, so yeah, 5000 or so years ago, magic probably stopped working. I don't think there were really witches in the middle ages, I think that was a bunch of superstition and scape-goating, so to speak." Jackson grinned again, his teeth brilliant white. "Goats, see? Never mind. "So, if magic stopped working 5000 years ago, I think that was still recent enough to live on in human memory. We have all these stories about ogres and dragons and stuff, right? I think those things really existed. They're coming back now, so it seems pretty likely. They existed, and there were all these stories about them. As the magic died, the stories continued. They might have been embellished, he... heck, probably were, but they were based on truth. There really were dragons and elves and all that. "They continued to exist in stories, even though no one had seen them in ages. Some people thought that stories of really ugly human-like beings were lost pockets of Neanderthals or something, and you can kind of understand dwarves and elves when you see Little People now, but I think those stories were really based on actual magical creatures. They died off with the magic, but their stories didn't." Jackson sat back, looking satisfied with himself. After a pause, staring at the floor, Nicole said, "So, my neighbor's kid just transformed into a real goblin?" "Maybe. Did it look like makeup?" "No. No, there was no way that was makeup. It looked more real than any movie I've ever seen, and different. The movies have all been getting it a little bit wrong." "Then he probably did." Nicole shuddered. Jeremy had looked unhappy, and he probably didn't know the half of it. "Poor kid," she said to herself. "How do you know all this," said Ross skeptically. "I don't," replied Jackson. "It's all speculation, but it's backed by an increasing amount of evidence. Haven't you seen weird stuff happening." "Yeah..." Ross was about to continue, but remembered the strictly-worded NDA Brian had recently made him sign about his work in the lab. "I have. I can't talk about specifics, but the lab where I work has been getting some really weird results." "More evidence. Magic is back. The real question is, how much more will it come back, and what happens now?" "What do you mean?" Nicole looked up from the floor, which she'd been staring at since the mention of Jeremy and his goblinism. "I mean," said Jackson, looking at each of them in turn, "what happens now? Are we going to see ogres running around downtown, smashing windows for fun? How are the police going to react? How long will it take the government to realize what's going on, and what will they do once they figure it out? The world is fundamentally different, as of right now, or three weeks ago, or whenever. It's probably going to get more different. "Think about what this means. Look at it scientificially," Jackson looked over at Ross, who was studying him intently. "Magic represents an enormous untapped energy reserve. If we can all fly everywhere on brooms, who needs cars or planes any more? If you can conjure a brownie to help you keep your house tidy, why do it yourself?" Jackson's face had lost its grin, and he looked very serious now, his delicate eyebrows hunched low over his eyes. "Wait," said Ross. "This sounds like the start of the automobile. Why ride a horse anywhere when you can have this device do it without getting sick or racking up huge vet bills? What about the downsides? What happens if you use magic?" "Nobody knows," said Jackson, leaning back in his seat again. "Maybe nothing. Maybe it eats your soul. Maybe it causes greenhouse gasses. There's a lot of talk in literature about using magic sparingly, so it probably does have a bad side. Maybe mankind used magic too much five thousand years ago, and it went away because of that. I don't know, man, and I bet no one else does, either. We're just gonna have to find out. Maybe we can use our relatively recent experience with things like fossil fuels and greenhouse gasses to not make the same mistakes we might have made back then." Ross whumped back into the couch, and blew his breath out between pursed lips. "We are so screwed," he finally said. CHAPTER Out in the world, other people were coming to the same conclusion. Within weeks of the dragon sighting in Seattle (which was around the same time magical creatures had obviously come out all over the world), there were entire television series devoted to documenting the emergent situation, cataloging all the strange new things that were happening. "Fantastic Creatures!" was the first one, on Discovery. It was quickly followed by a slew of copycat programs on other networks, and a variety of "When Magic Goes Wrong!" type schadenfreude programs on Fox and SpikeTV. Of course, the news programs were all over it, most adopting a set timeslot simply to talk about the changes observed that day. The government of the US was typically slow to respond, with President Clinton issuing careful, "We're studying the situation" type statements. Foreign governments were no more quick to judgement in general, but some of the smaller, less cautious countries came out with curious things, like a Department of Magic in Burundi, or the Ambassador for Magical Affairs appointed in Madagascar. As the 21st of December came and went, there was no cataclysmic event. The universe didn't explode, the world didn't end. But the world's change continued, seeming to accelerate. Ross's workplace, Talon Genetics, was no longer working on the DOD contract. The DOD had apparently given up on their hybridization program in the face of this new situation. No one knew where they'd redirected their efforts, but most people who cared to guess were guessing that magical libraries were being bought up at a rapid pace. It couldn't help but catch the popular imagination. Books on magic, mythology and witchcraft suddenly appeared in every shop, some of them quite hastily put together. The Web was full of people crowing about how they'd been right, which was only drowned out by the people proclaiming that this was the end of the world, or the beginning of Judgement, or any number of things. Rather than disrupting religion, the changes seemed to make each religion seem stronger and more unified. Everyone believed they were right, and clergy the world over were scrambling to interpret their respective texts in new ways, that could explain how their faith should deal with this situation. "What surprises me," said Ross one night in early January, as he sat with Nicole watching the news, "is that this hasn't been interpreted as the biggest excuse in the world to go looting or have riots." "Well, there have been riots," replied Nicole, muting the news anchor's lilting, Barbie-like voice. "Just not here." "True. But it doesn't seem so odd to see riots in Iraq or South Africa. I'm surprised there isn't some nationwide movement of discontented youths using this as their excuse to go crazy. Like, you remember those riots in Seattle about the WTO?" "I was only a kid then, I don't really remember them." "I guess I was only a kid too, but I read about them. These quote-unquote 'anarchists' showed up, and just started smashing things for fun, because it was the kind of situation where they could do that and get away with it. I would have expected something like that to happen again." "Maybe this isn't concentrated enough." "Could be." The fact that they were sitting calmly in an apartment was something of a wonder all by itself. The world was, to some extent, falling apart. There were widespread reports of pubescent teens morphing into fantastic humanoid creatures. Jeremy was among the first, hitting puberty at just the right moment. Numerous people had died due to what doctors were now calling Spontaneous Metamorphic Disorder, where they'd pretty much just keel over. Autopsies revealed that their bodies were weirdly distorted, bones in the wrong shape, and organs shut down, or enlarged. Some had died horribly, screaming in agony, whereas others had simply passed away in their sleep, or while sitting quietly. Two of Ross's fellow researchers had passed away like that, and they were now estimating that 10-15% of the population would be affected. Once people had figured out what was going on, there was a great deal of experimentation among a wide variety of people. Schoolchildren were cursing each other so effectively that the victims were unrecognizeable in some cases. It seemed like a quarter of Hollywood had died or dissappeared overnight. Jackson wasn't the only one to play with a broom, and for a short while it was a common sight to see people whizzing overhead. That stopped fairly quickly, when it became apparent that low flying objects like people on broomsticks were a favorite food of the dragon population that had quickly sprung up. The dragons didn't seem to find airplanes as tasty, so for the most part airplanes continued to fly as they had before the Change. That was another thing: lacking a better term for it, people had simply started calling the fall of 2012 the Change. Things were still changing, months later, and some people were predicting that changes would continue for years or decades. The Mayan calendar connection was widely accepted now, and a new crop of scholars had appeared in several disciplines: Mayan studies, Supernatural studies, and Medieval history were among the most numerous. There were enormous problems, beyond dragons setting fires or people cursing each other into oblivion. Apparently, a vast array of magical species had been waiting dormant, somehow, and had appeared very quickly. As Wu had noted in the lab, most magical creatures were different from the recently coined "natural creatures." They required different methods to kill, they consumed different resources, and they left different waste. In a widely publicized incident, a reporter with rolling camreas recorded a group of police officers in Detroit trying to stop a vampire from attacking a woman, and discovering that you really couldn't shoot a vampire to death. The vampire population had grown by a half dozen that night, and a horrified nation had discovered a new interest in crosses and garlic. As was bound to happen, people were coming out of the woodwork with fanciful claims, only now, no one knew whether to believe them or not. There was a reasonable chance that if a bum approached you on the street and asked for spare change, offering to explode your head if you didn't help him out, he wasn't kidding. The Change had permanently altered the world. Of course, the biggest changes were yet to come. CHAPTER Ross was working in the lab a few days later, when he got a text message on his phone. He opened it up, and read, "You might want to turn on the TV." It was from Nicole. Lacking a TV, he loaded up the CNN website, and started up their video stream. There was a reporter standing in some windswept location. "...reporting a massive army," the reporter turned to look behind him, "of... somethings. We're not sure what to call them, but experts agree that they're magical creatures." The view switched to a newsroom, where a cool and collected young woman in perfect make-up said, "Thank you Alan Shorna for that report. Again, authorities are reporting a very large congregation of magical creatures in the wilds of Canada. We've had varying reports in, some suggesting that it may be an army. We go now to Ethan Mullaly, a professor in Medieval studies at the University of Virginia. Doctor Mullaly, what can we expect from an army of magical creatures gathering like this?" Doctor Ethan Mullaly appeared on the screen: an obese man with a white beard, and a pathetic grey comb-over. His glasses had been in style 8 years ago, but looked hugely dated now. He cleared his throat, then said, "In the battles of the middle ages, which will be comparable to what we're seeing in Canada, the typical army consisted of foot-soldiers, cavalry, archers, and commanders...." Ross tuned him out. An expert in a field unrelated to the news story seemed to be par for the course these days, and that was even before the Change. Ross started paying attention again, seeing that the screen had switched back to the young woman. "...has announced that she will be calling for volunteers for this force. If you are between the ages of 18 and 35, President Clinton has said you will be called to the aid of your country." Ross closed the window. A war with magic? That sounded bad. CHAPTER Nicole had, as part of her explorations with Jackson years ago, purchased a crystal ball. It had been massively expensive, but she was absolutely enchanted with it (in the more conventional meaning of the word, of course). Now, it was coming in quite handy. She and Jackson had discovered that they could converse over quite a distance via a sort of magical telephone that involved her crystal ball and either another crystal ball, or a mirror or pane of glass. A lot of the magic they were discovering seemed to simply be based on willpower, although the dense formulae of the Medieval magicians seemed to be working now, as well. In any case, she was glad of this scrying magic, because her phone was refusing to work. It registered a full-strength signal, but wouldn't produce any sound out of the speaker. She sat in front of the litle orb, which was the largest she'd been able to afford: about 3 inches across, it was approximately the size of a softball. She willed Jackson to appear, and in short order he did, although from a distance. "Hey!" she called out. "Jackson!" His image spun to face her, then got larger as he leaned in. "Oh, hey babe. I was just practicing my lines." "I can't believe you're still doing theater. You know so much about this magic stuff..." "Yeah, but I really like acting. Just because the world's gone crazy doesn't mean I have to go with it." His voice was faint, but she could still make it out. It was a little bit like listening to a wax cylinder recording, or a 78 RPM record, only instead of crackling and scratches, sounds in his speech would occasionally swap places. "Anyway," he continued, "what's up?" "I just tried to call you, but my phone isn't working. It's been doing this a bit lately. I wanted to see if you're free later tonight." "Probably," came the thin reply. "All I have going on tonight is my own rehearsal. I can take a break from that if I have to. What's up?" "I wanted to talk to you about this army of creatures thing." "Yeah, that's a good topic for conversation. What time?" Nicole glanced over at her clock, which was reading 1E:h7. "Uh..." She tapped it, then whacked it with her hand. The digits jumped, and now read 7:37. "How about 9 o'clock tonight?" "I can do that, where do you want to meet?" "Let's meet at Charlie's, up there on Broadway." "Ok, but if you want, I can come up closer to you." "Nah, I'd like to get out. I have a weird feeling these are the last moments of normal life we're going to have for a long time." Jackson's image laughed, and then said, "You call this normal?" "Well, compared to what's coming? Yeah." He sobered up, then said, "Ok, see you at Charlie's at nine. Watch out for yourself, the Hill has been extra-spooky lately. You might want to drag Ross along, just so you're not alone." "Yeah, I'll give him a call... Well, maybe. I wish he'd figured out this crystal ball thing." "He's working on it, give him time. The poor guy has a scientist's brain, it's not used to accepting unexplainable things." "I guess you're right, he's having a hard time with all this stuff. Ok, see you there." "Later." The image faded away as her concentration lapsed. CHAPTER Ross was indeed having a hard time. The new magical reality was clashing heartily with his scientific world-view. In his mind, the world worked within a set of rules. He may not always know the rules, but they were there to be teased out. So far, magic had not proved to be this way. He'd finally reluctantly accepted that it was indeed magic. Although he superficially accepted what he was told by Jackson and Nicole, underneath, in his heart of hearts, he still believed that this was all explainable by some rational set of conditions. He'd tried approaching magic from a rational standpoint. He'd set up experiments, even quietly using equipment in the lab to try things out. He couldn't ever get things to work quite the same, though. They'd seen hints of this early on -- when the dragon had hatched, the hybridization being tested was the combination of a Malamute and an orangutan. It was ridiculous, and practically guaranteed to fail, yet somehow the genes from the two animals had combined and morphed to form a dragon. No one knew why it had formed an egg, even. They'd tried to use standard fertilization techniques for a mammal, but an egg had formed. Ross's frustration certainly stemmed in part from the fact that a lot of magic seemed to be controlled by the human mind. The effects he could observe were so commonly modified by his very thoughts (over which Nicole thought he didn't have sufficient control) that a simple process which had produced a flash of red light the first time might cause a puff of chlorine gas, or the appearance of a honeybee the next. The lab had sort of fallen apart in the last few months. Several people had died of spontaneous transmogrification, and many more had pretty much wandered off. Their science suddenly seemed less important. The economy was falling apart, as people discovered that money could now be willed into existence, if you could follow the proper mental gymnastics. It didn't always exist for more than 24 hours, but sometimes it became permanent and seemingly real. Between that and the increasing unreliability of nearly everything, the motive to work in a traditional job was quickly waning. Their equipment had started failing with increasing frequency. The Wittgen cell counter had been among the first victims, and Brian had angrily called the distributor to demand a replacement, but the replacement didn't work either. An article on the IEEE website claimed that electrons were no longer behaving like they had before the Change, and Ross could see mounting evidence of that in the electronic devices all around him. Among the evidence was that now, the IEEE website no longer worked. Jennifer was among the researchers who had remained at Talon Genetics. Ross no longer found himself so overwhelmingly attracted to her, now that Nicole was in his life, but she was still very pretty. They were working together more now, as Bjorn had left, and the shrinking departments had put a variety of disciplines in close proximity. "Dammit!" Ross yelled out his frustration, and pounded the bench once. The microscope through which he'd been looking suddenly blinked off, leaving his sample in the dark. He looked around, but the rest of the lab remained cheerily lit just his understage illuminator having been affected. Jennifer looked up from her work, which she was now doing on paper, as her computer had ceased working right a week ago. "What's up?" "Oh, the light on my scope just went out. I can't tell if the LED fried, or what might be going on." He was still unwilling to say, "or if magic is to blame," although the thought increasingly crossed his mind. "You could try using mine," she gestured at her microscope, which was pushed back and turned off. She reached out to flick the switch, but nothing happened when she did. "Oh, maybe not." She grinned. "Everything's falling apart. Look at this, I've been reduced to a slide rule!" she waved a 12 inch long plastic slide rule in the air to emphasize her point. "Where did you find that?" "Antique store. It was $30, but I was so sick of the computer going on the fritz that it was worth it." She waved the rule at the computer dismissively. "How'd you learn to use it?" "They're not that hard. It's just a matter of lining up scales. There are plenty of books that explain it. Plus," she grinned again, "this one came with the original booklet, which shows how to do basic stuff. Took me about an hour to get a handle on it. I'm sure you could figure them out if you needed to." "Well, what I'm doing now doesn't end up involving much math," he replied, somewhat wearily. "I'm just..." He stopped, staring at his microscope, which had just switched itself back on. "I'd better keep going while it's still working," he said, leaning back over the device. Jennifer laughed briefly, then turned back to her sheets of paper. After several minutes of silent work, Jennifer looked over at Ross, then said, "Hey Ross..." She paused, uncertainly, then continued, "What do you think of all this?" "All what," muttered Ross, still staring at the sample under the magnifying lenses of the microscope, not really paying attention. "All the magic stuff. I mean, you've been doing experiments on it, I think we all have. It doesn't make any sense." Ross looked up at the older woman. "No," he said, running his hands over his face, "it doesn't make any sense. Nicole says that magic is the opposite of science, although she can't really explain what that means. Her friend Jackson, who's very well read on a lot of religious theory and history, seems to have a good mastery of it, but can't explain why. It just works for him. "I've set up experiments he's suggested -- I think he wants to know about this stuff as badly as I do. They don't work, at least not for me. He had me try riding a broom once," Ross smiled sadly at the memory, "but all that happened to me is I got dusty. Not because the broom was dusty, I mean, but the magic kind of backfired, and the broom seemed to set about making things as dirty as possible. He was able to stop it, but I looked like a coal miner after a very long shift." Jennifer laughed at the image. "I don't think I've ever seen you less than spotlessly clean." Ross smiled shyly, unaccustomed to personal praise in the lab. "The combination of scientific training and rebelling against cluttered parents, I guess," he said. "You should see my house. It's usually spotless, unless Hawkeye goes crazy, which is pretty rare." "Is that your cat?" "Dog." "Ah, yeah, I knew you had a pet, although obviously I forgot what it was." "Yeah, he's a beagle. Nice dog, although lately he's been a lot cleverer than before. I have a feeling the Change has changed him, too." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, nothing I can pin down exactly, he just seems smarter. Sometimes I think he can understand everything I say. I'm kind of waiting for him to stand up on his hind legs and tell me he really misses having his head scratched or something." "Been a while?" "No, I mean I expect him to stand up and start speaking English." Jennifer laughed, saying, "Right, sorry. That would be quite a sight." "Yeah. Well, it doesn't seem very far-fetched anymore." The mirth faded out of Jennifer's face, and she said, "What do you think about that army up north?" Ross considered. "I don't know. Jackson doesn't seem to have any idea what they might be doing, and I've come to rely on him to clue me into the magic stuff. I think it's ominous, but I also think it might just be a big social gathering." "You hear that they erected some kind of barrier, so that people can't see in any more?" "Like, a physical barrier, or..." "Magical. I mean, of course." She rolled her pretty green eyes, as if distainful that magical creatures should use magic instead of building up a physical wall. "But that doesn't seem like a good sign." Ross stroked his chin, and said, "Well, it could be bad, or it could just be that they want some privacy. I mean," he added hastily, "it seems pretty bad to me, but I'm kinda pessimistic about the whole magic thing, so I don't really trust my opinion on it." Jennifer looked down at her sheets of paper again, which were covered with equations and numbers, and sighed. "I don't want to double check this stuff," she said. "No, looks tedious. What are you working on?" "Oh, the Thygerson contract. In a way, I'm amazed we have any business any more. You'd think the Change would have completely screwed up science, but some people really trust in what they think they know is true." She reflected for a moment on what she'd just said, then laughed. "Like us, I guess." Ross laughed too. "Yeah, just like us." He looked back to his microscope, and seeing that it was still on, leaned over to use it as long as it was working. In the corner of the room, a twinkling green light slowly passed through one wall, and out another. The two scientists didn't notice it. CHAPTER Nicole's coven meetings had taken on an entirely new tone, particularly with Gwendolyn suddenly looking 25 years old. Every time they met, which was increasingly frequent, Gwendolyn had a new spell, potion, or thing to try. They were brave explorers on the new frontier of magical research, and Nicole sometimes thought it was funny how her role and Ross's had sort of been swapped. Tonight, they were working on a spell Gwendolyn had gleaned from some medieval text. She'd skipped the modern authors at this point, and gone back to the sources. "This spell," she'd said gravely, at the beginning of the ritual, "will allow us to glimpse into the spirit world, if I have interpreted it correctly." Her solemn tone conflicted with the new beauty in her face. "As always, sisters, there is danger in this work. I urge you to read over this description, and depart if you are not willing to partake in the danger." She had handed out a multi-page description to each woman, written out by hand. What limited use Gwendolyn had had for computers before the Change had evaporated. Nicole read over the sheets. The ingredient list read like something from a Bugs Bunny cartoon: eye of newt was the first item. The instructions had them cooking up the ingredients by the light of the waning moon, no more than one third full, and no less than one quarter full. There was no blood involved in this one, at least. The medieval magical scholars had had an unhealthy obsession with blood and some other bodily fluids. They started in as Gwendolyn brought in a little portable propane cooker from the kitchen, along with a daunting assortment of bottles, jars, and plastic bags. She'd uncovered and thrown open the east-facing window, to let a little bit of moonlight in, but they had to work fast, as the moon would only shine through that window for another hour or so. Nicole tried not to think of poor Maeve, who'd been the first, but not the only woman from their coven to fall to the ravages of the Change. Although the autopsy had come back as heart failure, all the women knew that Maeve had died as a sacrifice for summoning whatever creature they'd summoned that night. "This spell," said Gwendolyn as they were preparing ingredients and carefully adding them to a large soup pot, "is from a new source, which I have not previously examined. I don't know how likely we are to have success with it, but this was the simplest spell he listed. Keep your thoughts positive; as you know, it's much more important now." This reminder had become almost rote as part of each try, since it really did make a huge difference. Once the ingredients were all simmering in the pot, the remaining women sat in a circle, contracted so that they were within the bounds of the pentagram etched into the floor. Gwendolyn led them through a prayer for the dead, thanking them for their sacrifice, and naming Maeve, as well as Kara and Julie. Kara had passed away from transformation, and Julie had died when a potion ended up being a rather virulent poison. Her death, being so immediate, had prevented the rest of the coven from suffering the same fate, and had inspired a new procedure for checking potions' effects. As was now usual, the assembled women heard echoes of thanks after their prayer. There's nothing to encourage a prayer like an immediate response. Nicole was surprised, on this topic, that they hadn't had more spiritual visitations. Maeve's spirit was the only one to have come back and actually become visible. They'd heard a few other voices, but never very distinctly. Prayer finished, they stood, holding hands, their heads bowed down. In the center of their circle, a blue light appeared, resembling nothing so much as an oversize amoeba. Its little tendril-like hairs extended out, until there was a tendril reaching into the chest of each woman, although none of them were in any pain or discomfort. Indeed, they found this particular ritual to be quite rewarding. They shared a new sense of purpose, and a renewal of energy once the blue light faded away. From this point, there was a good deal of waiting about to do. The cooking time for the ingredients would just barely fit within the amount of time the moon would be shining through the open window, but that was still 30 minutes away. The instructions didn't say anything about what you were supposed to do while waiting for the ingredients to cook, so the women ended up sitting around the room, chatting. Nicole found herself sitting with Samantha and Phoenix. Samantha had previously been known as Stream, but had really objected to the new name, and convinced Gwendolyn to just let her be known as Samantha. Nicole was tempted to do the same, but ever since that night up on the mountain at Samhain (which is how Nicole was now thinking of the night), there was part of her that resonated with the name Moon Shadow. Phoenix had produced a tarot deck from her bag once the soup pot was prepared, and had dealt out a hand to Sam. Tarot had taken on a new significance since the Change, and now the cards seemed to speak to the person reading them, foretelling things with surprising accuracy, but often without all the details filled in. Nicole found herself inclining toward runes for some reason, but it was still interesting to watch the cards. "I don't know," Phoenix was saying to Sam, "why this keeps happening. I mean, it should be obvious that Death would show up in every layout, the world is changing hourly at this point." She was staring at the cards, which showed no major Arcana at all, an unusual situation. "Maybe," mused Sam, "the changes are so obvious that there's no need to call them out." Samantha was a bit over average height, and about average weight, which is to say a bit chubby. She had dark, curly hair that was currently pulled back into a pony tail, except for her full-length bangs, which trailed in curls around her face, giving her the appearance of a Greek goddess. Phoenix considered, still staring at the cards. "Could be. It looks like you are generally doing alright, but with all these minor cards, it's hard to say. They're not as strong; I don't get so much information off them. What question are you thinking of?" "Oh," said Sam, looking surprised. "You know, I completely forgot to ask a question." "That might have something to do with it," said Phoenix, collecting the cards with a smile. "Want to try again?" "Nah," said Sam, her face blank, "I'm not really into it right now, you know? Well, maybe we could ask how the spell will go tonight." "That's probably a bad idea," said Nicole, piping up for the first time. "Keeping a good attitude about it is more likely to help than asking what might happen." "Oh yeah, true," said Sam somewhat distantly. "So, Sam," said Nicole, "how's your dad doing?" Samantha's dad had recently come down ill with some mystery ailment. His doctor was baffled by it, but recommended rest and fluids. It had flu-like symptoms, although he was constantly cold rather than ever feeling warm. "About the same. We keep him piled up with blankets and hot water bottles, but the hot water heater's been marginal lately. I should get one of those propane cookers in case the electricity stops working entirely." By this point most people had noticed that anything powered by electricity, or even controlled by electricity, was getting to be unreliable. It was particularly troubling because seemingly everything had a little computer in it these days, so most things were going intermittently dormant: cars, lights, water heaters, computers, telephones, elevators, and so on. The unreliability had reached the point where the economy was breaking down, although the transmission of news was also impacted, so the word wasn't spreading as fast as it could have before the Change. "Well, I'm glad to hear it's not getting any worse." "Yeah, I'm just glad he didn't get that metamorphosis thing." Sam shook her head at the thought. "Definitely. That's... Well, it's nasty, but it also seems like it's almost done. Have you seen any of the kids who've transformed?" "No, have you?" Nicole sighed. "Yeah, my next door neighbor's kid, didn't I tell you about that? He transformed into a goblin, it seems to happen when they hit puberty. I wish I could say he's alright, but the change definitely alters their brains too. I think I understand why people didn't like goblins very much. He's mean, on top of being scary to look at." Nicole's eyes stared into the distance as her mind replayed a memory. "And his mom, poor Mary. She doesn't know what to do with him. He won't go to school any more, and they probably wouldn't take him if he did go. Anyway, I bet the school is having trouble of its own, ever since Clinton instituted that schools modernization thing a few years ago. They moved all their teaching to computers, which isn't looking that clever now." Nicole smiled wistfully. "Yeah," said Sam. "I guess books really do have their place, especially now. No batteries required." "And more important than ever," said Phoenix breaking her silent examination of individual Tarot cards. She looked up. "I don't think electricity is around for much longer. When it goes, everything changes a lot. Think about it." She had a haunted look on her face. "I mean, things still mostly work now, even though it seems like they don't. We still have power here, but for how much longer? Once power goes out, how will Gwendolyn heat this apartment? Once the electricity stops, how will we do anything? It's going to be back to horses and farms and stuff." "Oh yeah," said Nicole. Her face had become a little haunted itself. "I hadn't really thought about it like that. If the electricity goes away..." she glanced at Phoenix again, "I mean, when it goes away, everything stops working. Don't you need electricity to run a gas car, even though it really runs on gas? And poor Ross, his electric car will be worthless." She trailed off, pondering their fate. "Sisters!" interrupted Gwendolyn in an excited voice, "the time is nigh! Gather around!" They all got up and stood around the pot, which had started letting off a curious heavy smoke, although it didn't act exactly like smoke, remaining rather more coherent than normal fumes. Gwendolyn's kitchen timer (the old-fashioned wind-up kind) dinged, and the remaining sliver of moonlight disappeared a few moments later. Perfect timing. Gwendolyn picked up the pot, and carefully moved it to the center of the pentagram. Then she gathered up five pewter chalices, and, sitting down next to the pot, carefully ladeled some of the potion into each of the cups. Each cup was then placed at a point on the pentagram, and the pot removed off to the side. "Now, everyone have a sheet?" Gwendolyn motioned with her own script she'd written out. "I apologize that we haven't been able to practice the words, but words have power, and even without proper preparation, we don't know what might have happened." There was a rustling of paper as the 10 women readied their sheets. Gwendolyn started out, reading the Latin words off the paper. The other women quickly joined in, slowly reading the unfamiliar words. As they spoke, the room darkened perceptibly around them, as the center of the pentagram started to lighten. It was almost as if the light in the room were being drawn into the center of the circle, into the gathering fumes which roiled about there. As they finished the last "est" from the incantation, the brightness in the center of the room flared, and several women put up their hands to guard against the sudden brightness. As they looked back, the bright spot was expanding slowly, droplets of light falling from it and passing through the floor without a trace. Suddenly, it flashed again, although not as bright. Through the light, Nicole could make out figures moving, and the bright spot slowly resolved into a translucent window. She could no longer see the woman opposite her on the circle, instead seeing the strange sights inside the amorphous window. As they watched, the window settled, and became easier to see through. They could see countless thin, listless figures moving about, reminiscent of Picasso's stick figures from his sketch of Don Quixote. The figures didn't seem to notice the women gathered around the window. If this was the spirit world, it looked singularly boring. Aside from the moving figures, there was almost no detail, an endless grey or blue expanse, with no details to break the monotony. The figures didn't seem to interact with each other, although whether that was because they couldn't, or because they didn't want to, wasn't clear. Nicole noticed, out of the corner of her eye, movement in the real world. Phoenix, her face blank and open, was walking toward the blob of transparency, her hand stretched out. She was across the circle from Gwendolyn, so the newly-young woman couldn't see what was happening. Nicole watched, mute and paralysed with terror, as her friend slowly walked, transfixed, toward the window. Just as Phoenix was about to touch the blob of otherworld, Nicole was able to shriek, "STOP!" although it came out strangled and strange sounding. Phoenix hesitated, looking over at Nicole, but the movement was already committed. Her hand passed into the spirit world. CHAPTER The Tesla Whitestar sat dormant. The clever proximity locking system remained resolutely locked no matter how close Ross got with his RFID key. There was no sign of life, and Ross wondered if he'd ever get the car to operate again. He was standing in the Talon parking lot, thinking to himself, "That's it, I don't think I can work any more." He owned a bicycle, but it was covered in dust, and probably had two flat tires. Even if it was working, it was a two and a half hour ride from Lynnwood to Talon, on the north edge of downtown Seattle. That was no way to commute. He couldn't take the bus, since they weren't running much any more. No cars were really reliable, although his Whitestar had been doing pretty well, only dying once or twice so far. It didn't look like it was coming back this time, though. Brian came out the door from the stairs, and Ross walked towards him. "Hey Brian, can I bum a ride with you?" "Ah... Maybe? Where do you live?" "North, in Lynnwood." "That's kind of out of the way..." "My car won't even let me in," Ross said, gesturing back at the blue sedan. "Oh, hey, is that a Whitestar? I was wondering who drove that. How do you like..." Brian paused, then smiled sheepishly. "It's probably great except for the electricity thing, huh?" "Yeah, when the laws of physics start breaking down, it's not the best choice." "You know, Ross," said Brian. He paused, looking uncertain. Finally, he said, "I don't know how much longer we can operate the lab. None of the equipment really works reliably any more, and payroll is essentially impossible. I keep meaning to call a meeting and tell people, but I'm having a hard time getting up the nerve." Ross looked down at his feet. "I was wondering when it was going to happen. You're not alone, Brian." Ross waved his hand to encompass the world around them. "The whole world has gone crazy. It's amazing things are still as normal as they are. I don't know what happens next, but things are going to have to change a lot more than they have." "I know. I've been trying not to think about it," said Brian. "But I can't stop. I've been having dreams," he stopped short, then decided to continue. "I think they're visions of the future." He said it very fast, as if he were confessing to some horrible sin. His face went red. "Nothing works any more, and that army up north comes rolling over us. It's bad. I hope it's just anxiety dreams, but... I don't think it is." Brian looked more vulnerable than Ross had ever seen him before. He seemed to recover, then said, "Let's see if my car will start. I'll give you a ride if I can." CHAPTER Nothing happened for a moment. Nicole stood, horrified, one hand outstretched as if to will Phoenix away, the other covering her mouth. Phoenix stood next to the transparency, a blank look on her face the fingers of her right hand apparently inside the spirit world they could see through the odd bubble. The tableau held for a moment. The next moment, there was a tremendous flash of light, and everyone was thrown backwards, out of the circle. Nicole couldn't tell if there was a sound or not. Her senses were all jumbled up, tasting the purple of the wall hanging that dangled over her head, seeing the vibrations of voices, and feeling the smell of ozone. She tried to sit up, but her hearing spun out of control, and she almost threw up. A minute or two later, she was able to sit up without getting nauseated. She said, experimentally, "I've never tasted purple before." Her senses seemed to have returned to their correct correlations. She looked around, and was relieved to see Phoenix was also sitting up, looking dazed but otherwise alive. Indeed, all the women seemed to have survived the explosion, if that was the right term for what had happened. "Is everyone alright?" Gwendolyn was trying to struggle to her feet, but wasn't having much luck. Finally she gave up, and plopped back down to a seated position, leaning against the wall. There were nods around the room, and a scattering of "Yeah" and "Yes" responses. Nicole thought Phoenix had an odd look on her face. She crawled closer, and saw that the other woman was staring at her right hand, which didn't look like it should. As Nicole got closer, she realized that Phoenix's hand simply... ended. Where there should have been fingers, there was nothing, but it wasn't bleeding. Nicole realized that she could see a perfect cross-section of skin, muscle and bone, terminating around midway up Phoenix's hand. Her thumb was half cut off as well. "Phoenix, your hand..." Nicole didn't really know what to say. "It doesn't hurt." Phoenix looked at her truncated hand almost clinically, as if she were studying an interesting beetle. "I can still feel my fingers." Nicole could see her hand flexing as if she were wiggling her fingers. Nicole crawled closer, until she could take up the affected hand. "Why isn't it bleeding?" "I don't know. But I can still feel my fingers. I think they're still there." Phoenix moved her abbreviated right hand to touch her left hand. A look of surprised cross her face. She passed her right hand over her left in a motion that would have had her right fingers going through the middle of her left palm. "I can feel the inside of my hand!" "What?" Gwendolyn spoke up again. "Child, are you sure?" "No," said Phoenix. "Um," she moved her right hand over to the wall, and passed her spectral fingers through the wall. "Oh! There's wood here, but not here." She moved her hand back and forth. "I can kind of feel it, but it's like feeling the essence of the wood. But I can't feel the wallboard. What's wallboard made of?" Micha said, "It's called sheetrock, maybe it's made from rock." Gwendolyn said, "It's made from gypsum. It's a mineral, so it is a kind of rock." "I wonder why I can't feel it," said Phoenix. She stood up, staring at her hand. She looked down at Nicole, who quickly stood up. "May I?" Phoenix indicated Nicole's hand. "Um," Nicole hesitated. "Yeah, I guess so. We have to find out some time." Phoenix passed her missing fingers through Nicole's hand. Nicole could feel something odd, but wouldn't have guessed it was magical missing fingers. Phoenix said, "I can feel the inside of your hand too. There's your finger bone, and that's a muscle. It feels squishy." She looked up at Nicole. "Do you feel anything?" "I can't tell. Maybe, but it might be in my mind, too. It's like a little tingle or something." Gwendolyn finally struggled to her feet, and walked cautiously over to the two women. "Let me see your hand," she said to Phoenix. The older woman took the mysterious appendage and turned it over, looking at it from all angles. At length, she said, "I believe your fingers now exist in the spirit world." Phoenix started giggling. When Gwendolyn looked up at her, silently demanding an explanation, the younger woman said, "I'm just imagining four fingers and part of a thumb moving around without a body. It'd look like a bad special effect in a movie!" She laughed harder, and in a moment, everyone was laughing. The tension of the moment seemed to drain away, fueled by relief that no one had died, and nervousness at this new manifestation of the strange world in which they found themselves. CHAPTER Ross had finally made it home, although Brian's car had quit half way there. He'd ended up walking the remaining 10 miles, so it was around midnight by the time he unlocked the door to his apartment. Hawkeye was waiting faithfully inside, with something of an urgent look on his little beagle face. "Oh, jeez!" said Ross to himself. "I bet you really want to go for a walk, huh boy." Hawkeye's face lit up as Ross grabbed the leash. The last thing he wanted to do was walk any more. His feet were killing him, and he was cold from the chilly air outside. But Hawkeye would certainly make a mess if not allowed to go out and relieve himself. Ross took Hawkeye on the shortest possible walk he could, stopping at two favorite marking spots. He checked his telephone on the off chance it was actually working, but its screen lit up to reveal zero bars of service. It was probably futile to even keep the thing. With the myriad tenuous electrical connections between his phone and another phone, it was pretty much guaranteed that something would be broken these days. Hawkeye sufficiently relieved, Ross walked him back to the apartment, where he kicked off his shoes, and collapsed on the bed. "I don't know what happens now, Hawkeye," said Ross. "Things are falling apart." The dog came and sat attentively at the end of the bed, listening. "Brian said the lab's closing down. It doesn't matter, I haven't been able to get at my bank account for a week now. I'm surprised anyone still takes cash, even. They probably don't realize it's not backed by anything. Used to be," said Ross, raising his hand, index finger pointed up, self-consciously lecturing his dog, "that US currency was backed by gold. You could take your cash down to Fort Knox or wherever, and trade it in for an equal amount of gold. Not any more. I don't think it's backed by anything any more, other than, 'we say this piece of paper is worth a dollar.'" His hand dropped to the bed again. He chuckled quietly, then said, "At least gravity still works." Hawkeye whined, and let out a little bark. Ross raised his head to look at the dog. "Oh, hey, you're probably hungry, huh." He raised himself up off the bed with some effort, and walked out to the kitchen, where he poured out a cupful of kibble into the dog's bowl. He rinsed out the water bowl, and refilled it. Hawkeye gobbled his food down with an excited crunching noise. Ross went back into the bedroom, and flopped on the bed again. He could really do with some kind of distraction. He wondered vaguely if the TV would turn on. The lights in the apartment were working, so he had high hopes. He sloped over to the couch and performed another flop. The remote for the TV was all the way over on the coffee table. He blew a sigh, and considered whether sleeping or trying to watch a movie would make more sense. With a grunt, he reached for the remote and pressed the power button. The TV clicked on, but it just showed the blue screen that indicates there's no input signal. He scrolled through a few channels, but they were all blue. He clicked the screen off again. Ross pulled out his phone, hoping maybe he could call Nicole, but now the screen wouldn't even light up. Giving up, he went to bed and fell asleep, fully clothed. CHAPTER When Ross awoke the next morning, the world was curiously silent. He could hear Hawkeye breathing, but there was little other sound. He sat up to look around. The room was surprisingly bright, sunlight streaming in through the window. He looked over at the clock, but its LED face was dark. All of a sudden, he thought he heard Nicole's voice. It was faint, but in the ear-ringing quiet of the room, it was audible. He looked around, but she obviously wasn't in the room. How would she get here? Her apartment was miles away, and he doubted very much that there would be a bus to take. There it was again, her voice calling, "Ross!" He looked around again, finally reaching for his phone, wondering if it were working and he'd sleep-dialed or something. No, the phone was dead. The thought flitted across his mind that it might never work again, but he put it back in his pocket anyway. The light in the room faded abruptly. Ross looked out the window, and saw that a heavy cloud had passed in front of the sun. The sky was full of dramatically puffy clouds, unusual for winter in Seattle. Usually it was just a dull, featureless overcast. In the reduced light, he finally saw something different. He could hear her voice in the room, and he thought he saw something moving near the far wall. He walked over to the desk that was sitting there, and spied the glass sphere she'd given him as a present. She'd explained sheepishly that it wasn't real crystal, but she thought he'd like it. He did, although he had no idea what to do with it, so it sat on his desk and gradually gathered dust. He peered closer, and realized that inside the sphere, something was moving. He sat down at the desk, and pulled it towards him. "Nicole?" he said, staring incredulously at the fist-sized globe. "Finally!" "I have a feeling I know the answer, but... how are you doing this?" "Magic! Jackson and I have been doing this for weeks, and we finally got it good enough so that the person on the far end doesn't have to be participating actively for it to work." "How does it work?" "It's... look, can we talk about this later? I haven't heard from you in ages, I was starting to get worried." Ross ran his hand through his dark hair, which was standing at odd angles from his head. "Ah, my phone isn't working," he said after a brief pause. "No one's is. I don't think electricity is really working much any more Ross, hadn't you noticed?" "Yeah, I guess I did..." He looked around the room, and realized that the reason it was so quiet was that there was absolutely nothing humming or buzzing, no fans running, nothing. "I read something a few weeks ago about electrons behaving strangely. I guess it's really happening." "It is. Look, can you get down here? I'm worried that now isn't a good time to be separated. I think things are about to get bad." The tiny image of Nicole's face might have looked worried. It was like trying to see how good the detail was on a digital camera's little screen. "When you say bad..." "I mean bad. Think about it, you're the scientist. What happens when electrons stop behaving nice?" "Um," Ross considered the question. He was silent for nearly a minute before he said, "Oh. I see what you mean. I've got a bike," he looked around, actually forgetting for a moment where he'd put his bicycle. "I could ride that, but it's going to take me a couple hours to get to you. What are the roads like?" "I don't know. Around here, they're empty, with the odd car stopped in the midle of the road. Probably the same up there. But that's just it -- if the cars have stopped working, the cargo trucks have probably stopped too. For all I know, the water's stopped working too, it's probably dependent upon electricity. We may have to fend for ourselves for a long time, maybe the rest of our lives." Her voice came to a halt as she said this, considering the consequences of what she was proposing. "This is a weird thing to say," she started again, "in the circumstances, but I think you should come live with me, or I could come live with you, but I'm close enough to some support here that I think my place may be a better choice." She paused for breath, unsure of what Ross's reaction would be. It seemed like a silly time to be worried about their relationship, but she was. Whether or not he was a fighter, Nicole realized that she loved Ross and didn't want to lose him. The pragmatic side of her suggested it would also be handy to have a man around who might at least give the impression of being capable of aggression. Ross was among the most pacifistic people she'd ever met, so it was all impression and no substance. "I guess that could work," said Ross, looking around again. He obviously didn't understand the importance of her words, and was looking purely at the matter as a practical thing. "I'll probably have to abandon whatever I can't take with me. I can't imagine making regular trips back up here." He looked back at the clear, faintly glowing ball. "I think you're right, your apartment is better. Do we need to worry about getting kicked out?" "What? Why?" "I can't get to my bank account any more. I don't really have any money." "Well, I don't think my landlord has a magical electricity-free bank, so he's probably in the same boat. I think we should be ok." Nicole looked around behind her, then said something which Ross couldn't hear. "Are you ok?" "Oh, yeah, it's just Zipper making a mess." "Oh, ok. Well..." He scratched his head again, considering. "I guess it'll take me a couple hours here getting stuff together. I'll have to shove what I can in my backpack, and it'll probably take me two hours to ride down to your apartment. I ended up walking 10 miles home last night: my car's dead, and I think the lab is either closed or will be closed soon." "Ok." Nicole's face softened. "I'm glad to talk to you Ross..." She paused, wanting to say something, but decided not to. "I'll check in on you in a couple hours. Does your bike have a mirror?" "Yeah, why?" "I can contact you through that. It's like two-way scrying." "What?" Ross had heard the word before, but just thought it meant reading the future or something. "Never mind, I'll explain later. I'll see you here this afternoon, right?" "Yeah, seems likely. What time is it?" "I don't know, I don't have any working clocks any more. It's still morning, though. Talk to you soon." "Yeah, later," said Ross. He continued watching the little glass orb, but he didn't see Nicole's image fade out like he was expecting. It was almost as if he'd blinked and missed the moment when it faded out. One moment she was there, the next moment she wasn't. Ross stood up and stretched, glancing around the room. "Well, Hawkeye, looks like it's time to move." Hawkeye the beagle looked up at him expectantly, but made no utterance. CHAPTER Ross spent the next few hours packing, agonizing over what to bring. He'd located his backpack, an old external-frame pack that he'd used as a teenager to go camping in the mountains. He kept having to remind himself that electronics now held almost no value, and had a little discard pile of stuff that would probably never work again: phone, GPS, MP3 player, laptop, digital camera, even the camping flashlight he'd used. All useless. He did pack clothes, a couple blankets, a pair of binoculars, his wilderness survival kit, and all the bicycle spares he could find. He threw in a variety of other household items, and by the time he was done, the pack weighed about 80 lbs, but he couldn't imagine leaving any of it behind. He looked at his guitar, and decided that it would be foolish to bring an electric solidbody guitar that made virtually no noise when unplugged. He could find an accoustic later, if it were still a priority. Ross found himself regretting that he no longer owned the .22 rifle he'd been given for his 7th birthday. He was a decent shot, at least, he was 10 years ago, and he figured hunting for food might be an issue that would actually come up. It took nearly an hour to get the bicycle sorted out. Both tires were flat, but he didn't have any spare innertubes. He broke out the patch kit, which was definitely gasping its last. He made a note to try to find a fresh one if he could, although it was with increasing despair that he realized the only ways to get anything in the near term would be barter or theft. His cash had run out a while ago, since he was so used to living off his debit card. Even so, he didn't know if anyone would accept cash any more. The ride from Lynnwood to North Seattle, where Nicole lived in an apartment just off 145th, was not as bad as he'd feared. There were a few hills, to be sure, but he found that if he just slowed down and took it easy, none of them was too daunting. His bicycle was equipped with 30 different gear combinations, the lowest of which had his feet spinning in a mad flurry at just a few miles per hour. Hawkeye trotted along beside him, breaking into a run as Ross rode down hills. He had to remember to slow down for the dog, who didn't have very long legs. He saw numerous other people out on bicycles, but they all stayed away from each other. He found himself distrusting anyone else as the magnitude of the situation sank in. There were no cars moving. The roads looked bizarre, so devoid of traffic. There were many cars which people had simply abandoned, sitting in various positions on and off the road. Finally, several hours later (Ross also had no functional timepieces), he reached Nicole's apartment. She had appeared briefly in his mirror as he rode down, but hadn't been able to get his attention. He hauled the bike up the stairs to her front door, and knocked. After a moment, she opened the door, throwing her arms around him, or at least trying to. The backpack was in the way, and in any case, he was drenched in sweat from the unaccustomed activity. Hawkeye barked once, and jumped up on her leg. She gave his head a scratch. "I'm glad you made it alright," she said, as she wheeled the bike into the apartment. Ross dropped the backpack off his back with a whump, and made a very relieved-sounding groan. "Does your water still work?" he asked. "I'd love to rinse off a little." "Oh yeah," she said, "speaking of that. Did you happen to bring any containers with you? I figure we should stock up on water while it's still running and clean." "Oh, um. Well, I brought my camping cookset, which has a couple pots, but I didn't bring anything big, no." "Those will do. Go fill them up, if the water's still good. You can rinse off afterward. We're gonna die of thirst if we're not careful." Her voice disappeared around the corner. Ross called back, "Why don't you fill up the tub?" "Good idea! Set it going!" "Should I clean it first?" "Um... Yeah, but just real quick." Ross dropped to his knees in the bathroom, and ran some water into the tub. It still looked clean, and he splashed some on his face, which felt wonderful. Nicole's apartment was surprisingly warm. He cleaned out the tub quickly, and pulled out the anti-skid mat, then plugged the drain and started the water running. "Looks good," he said, moving into the front room of her apartment. She leapt up and hugged him again, properly this time, and kissed his face several times. "I've missed you." "Me too," said Ross. "I mean, I missed you too." He looked around, his eyelids drooping, and said, "Mind if I take a nap?" "No, go ahead. I don't have anything I need to do right now, but I'm meting with the coven tonight. I think I told you, the mall closed its doors a couple days ago when they couldn't get the lights to stay on. Of course, there are no windows in the whole place, so it's like walking into a tomb with the lights off. Anyway, I don't have to work any more." Ross listened with half an ear as he shoved stuff off the couch, and flopped down, exhausted between his long walk last night, and the bicycle ride today. Hawkeye leapt up on the couch and curled up next to him. Ross didn't even have time to respond before he was asleep. CHAPTER "Morning, sleepy-bones." Ross opened an eye, unsure where he was. As his vision came into focus, he remembered that he was at Nicole's apartment in North Seattle. Hawkeye was curled up on the floor, draped part-way around Nicole's cat, Zipper. Nicole stood up, and he realized she'd given him a kiss to wake him up. "Hey," he said. His mouth tasted like old socks. "What time is it?" Every third blink seemed to come up with blurred vision. He rubbed his eyes. "I'm not sure. It's probably been three or four hours since sunrise, so some time mid morning." Ross sat up and stretched. "Ow," he said. "Man, I'm sore. I rode my bike down here, didn't I." "Yep. With a huge backpack on. I can't even lift it." "Oh, sorry about that." He got up and hovered over the backpack, uncertain whether he needed to do anything with it or not. He looked inquiringly at Nicole, the question still formulating in his slowly-awakening mind. "Oh!" she said, holding up a hand to cover her smile. "No, you don't have to move it now. I just thought it was amazing how much you could carry." Ross sat back down on the couch. "Right. Me too. Between my back and my legs, I can definitely tell I was carrying that thing, yesterday. Did you know," he said, looking up at her, "that a bicycle seat, although uncomfortable, becomes positively unbearable after two hours with 80 some extra pounds on your back?" He looked back down, his face still bleary with sleep. "Now you know. I don't recommend it. Why did you have me come down here again?" Nicole's face tried and failed to conceal a smile. "I missed you, and it didn't seem like we'd see much of each other if we were living so far apart." Her face grew more serious. "On top of that, I think society is on the verge of falling apart. I would like to have you around because you're big and strong, and I think you want to have me around because I get magic, which looks like a good thing about now." "You get magic? What does that mean?" "Well," said Nicole, starting to sound defensive, "I just mean that I seem to understand it better than you do. Like, I can do that scrying trick." "Oh, right, the mirror thing. Right. Sorry, my brain isn't really up to speed yet." Ross ran his hands through his hair. "Electricity doesn't work, does it." He phrased it as a statement, although it was plainly a question. "No. That's a lot of it. Now that electrons have stopped doing the right thing, or whatever you said last night, I think we're about to see bad things start happening. There's not much we depend on that isn't powered by electricity in one way or another. No one's ever planned for electricity to stop functioning as a physical thing, but now, even battery powered things don't work." She looked down at the cat and dog, curled together on the carpet. "That means that pretty much everything we know stops working. There's a lot of stuff that still works, but..." She was cut short by a loud noise outside. "What's that?" She got up and went to the window, lifting the blinds a little to peer outside. "Oh. I think that's the start of it," she said, standing up again. She had a frightened look on her face. "The start of what?" "That was a group of centaurs cantering down the street. You know, half-man, half-horse? There must have been ten of them." "What!?" "Don't you remember? Magic came back? Dragons flying around torching things?" "Well, yeah, I guess. But that was a while ago, I kind of figured that was over with, like a phase or something." "No, they all went north. They were congregating in Canada, remember? Just before everything started going all wonky?" "Right. So, what were they doing? What was that noise?" "I think they're starting the war." BOOK 2: MAGIC "Gerrard! Come back here!" Moon leapt after the little boy, who was running through the crowd, giggling madly at the game of Evade Mommy. The crowd through which he ran wasn't too thick, and she quickly caught up with her son. Ross followed behind, a string bag dangling from his right hand. He smiled at the playfulness of the 4-year-old. They were walking through the town of Carnation, a 2-hour walk from their farm further north in the Snohomish Valley. The town was unrecognizable compared to before the Change, but had been slowly rebuilt, as people tried to congregate around what they had previously known. It was Saturday, which was market day. The main thoroughfare, still paved with degrading asphalt, was thronged with people and pack animals. Some of the carts were obviously converted pickup truck beds, although these had fallen out of favor compared to the lighter and easier to maintain wooden carts. Farmers, craftsmen, and peddlars had all set up tables or tents along the main road, and were hawking their wares. It hadn't taken very long after the War for people to rediscover the rural lifestyle which had prevailed for so many centuries before the Industrial Revolution. Some of the vendors sold clever mechanical devices, so there were apparently still people working with technology. Ross had wondered -- it seemed that after the War, there were very few people left. He was pleased that he and Moon had made it through alive. Moon caught up with Gerrard, and scooped him up, holding him upside down and blowing a raspberry on his belly. He giggled uncontrollably, finally shrieking for her to stop. She did, and lowered him to the ground again, where he walked a bit more calmly, his hand in hers. Ross stopped at a junk merchant, to look over his table of wares. There was a thriving trade in pre-Change artefacts, brought in by people who would make trips to the empty cities and bring back cartloads of treasure: plastic basins, pens and pencils, paper, disposable lighters, bicycle parts, cans and bottles of lubricant, and so on. The trips were dangerous, though, as the cities had become the home of numerous magical species, some of whom viewed mankind as a delicious source of food, when it was available. Wildlife had also taken over, so that a wyvern or basilisk actually presented less danger than being attacked by a cougar or pack of coyotes. This resulted in the price of these objects being disproportionately high. Ross passed on the table, unable to afford anything he might want, and finding nothing he absolutely had to have. He caught up with Moon, who was haggling with a butcher over a cut of buffalo, which she finally paid for and accepted from the man. Although they farmed with reasonable success, they kept few animals other than chickens, and a nice buffalo or beef steak was a rare treat. "Oooh," said Ross, eyeing the meat. "Is it a special occasion?" "No," said Moon, halfway between playful and annoyed. "We had a bit extra in the food kitty this week, so I figured we could splurge." Ross looked at his wife appreciatively. They'd been married in a handfasting ceremony shortly after the War, and he hadn't had cause to regret the choice. Adversity had seemed to cement the relationship rather than breaking it apart, and they'd had enough adversity for a half-dozen people. Of course, they weren't alone in that: everyone older than about the age of 8 had been through similar trouble. Humanity had shrunk in size, but mutual trust and dependence had increased proportionately. There was no other way to survive. Moon's hand was tugged away, as Gerrard strained at a fruit stand, calling out, "Pear! Pear!" He didn't speak as much as Ross had expected he would by 4 years old, but it wasn't for lack of ability. He just didn't seem to have much to say, speaking with an admirable succinctness. "No, Gerrard," said Moon, pulling him back. "We can't afford pears right now, and we have apples at home." Gerrard pouted, but didn't make a fuss. His fussy phase had finally, blessedly passed. Ross reflected occasionally that choosing to have a child in the sometimes-frightening post-Change world might have been foolish, but the rewards usually outweighed the drawbacks. Ross squatted down next to the boy, and said, "Gerrard." His son looked around, and he continued, "You may not be able to have a pear, but how would you like a horse?" Moon looked sharply down, but waited to see what Ross had in mind. Gerrard's face scrunched up in thought for a second, then he said, "A real horse?" "A toy horse," said Ross, pointing at a table, where rows of wooden toys were lined up. Gerrard's face brightened, and he ran over to the table, standing on his tip-toes to see the rows of toys. Moon looked severely at Ross, and said, "We can afford toys now?" Ross shrugged, and said, "Probably. A toy lasts a lot longer than a pear, though, and it's been a while." Moon threw up her hands in mock exasperation, waving the buffalo steak around dramatically. Dropping her arms, she smiled at Ross, and said, "Fine. Just don't let him pick one he'll break right away." CHAPTER "Hey, Moon!" Ross called from their farmhouse, which was built up out of stone, with a thatched roof. Nicole had decided to adopt her coven name for everyday life, after Gwendolyn had sacrificed herself to divert an attack by a group of dwarves, saving hundreds of people huddled in the basement of a school. Nicole had also grown more adept at working with magic, and was now possessed of not inconsiderable power. Having a more mystic name seemed like a good way to enhance her appearance of power. "Yeah!" She looked up from the garden, where she was pulling up the persistent weeds from between the neat rows of plants. Her left eye was now clouded over and grey after a magical accident. Ross waved her over, and she got up, dusting off her knees. They were both dressed in tough cloth woven by Diana, a woman in the village who had known how to weave before the Change, and was now making a living selling cloth. "What's up?" asked Moon, arriving at the door. Ross pointed back into the house, and said, "Gerrard won't shut up, he insists he'll only talk to you." Ross's face crinkled into a smile, creasing around the frightful scar that ran down the right side of his face, where a griffon's talon had just missed ripping his head off. Inside, Gerrard was howling about something. Moon Shadow went inside to tend to him, while Ross surveyed the area around his house. They were living on several acres in the Snoqualmie Valley. The land was fertile, and they were able to grow enough food to support themselves, pay their rent to the Suquamish tribe, and still sell some on. The growing season had lengthened as the world got warmer, although more-frequent storms balanced out any advantage. Down the dirt road linking their stead to the village on the river, Ross could see dust rising, and realized that they must be about to receive a visitor. He checked to be sure that his poleax was ready behind the door, just in case, although it'd been months since they'd had any trouble. The approaching figure slowly resolved to Winston Tanner, the local sherriff. He was riding a bicycle gently up the rutted road. Winston reached the house and dismounted, carefully setting the bike down on its side. He walked up to Ross, who was still leaning against his doorway. "Afternoon, Ross," he said, taking off his hat. "Good afternoon, Winston. What can I do for you?" "Ah, well, actually, I've just come from the Council." Winston waved to the north, where the Tribal Council met in a longhouse every week to discuss the affairs of their region. "They were asking after you. It seems they have an idea to build a water purification facility. They understand you used to be a chemist or something." Ross smiled. "Close enough. I can probably help them out, I think I've got enough chemistry to muddle through. What's their plan?" Winston tried to outline it, but didn't really understand the details well enough. Ross explained to Moon Shadow, who nodded and said she'd see him that night. It was about an hour's ride to the Council longhouse. Ross grabbed his dirk, and mounted their mule, Bessy. He considered taking his cloak, but the August weather didn't seem to threaten either rain or cold. He rode alongside Winston back to the longhouse. He conferred with the elders of the Council, providing them with details on how the water purification could be achieved using local supplies and materials. The meeting lasted several hours, and consumed 5 sheets of their dwindling supply of 8.5x11 paper. Ross hadn't actually seen cut sheets of paper like that for a while. He and Moon were using paper produced in a nearby village, although it was expensive, so it was used sparingly. Ross excused himself as he saw the sun lowering toward the horizon. It was nearing Autumn, and although the sun set late, dark was still dark. He didn't want to have to travel after sunset. They handed him a small sack of silver for his troubles, and Ross bowed, thanking them before walking quickly back to Bessy, who was tethered outside. He was contentedly chewing on grass. Ross had tried to see the logic behind naming a mule Bessy, but Moon had insisted, giggling that it was just like living on a farm. He'd sighed, and explained that they *were* living on a farm. Still, she got her way, and the mule was named Bessy. Honestly, Bessy didn't seem to care. The ride back went a little quicker, as Bessy could take the roads a bit faster than Winston seemed to want to go on his bicycle. He followed the main north-south route, which had at one point been a nicely paved road running up the west side of the valley. It was still paved in parts, but between floods and hooved animals, the pavement was starting to get ragged where it was still present. As he reached home, something felt wrong. He couldn't place it. The house looked alright, there was no smoke, but there was a distinct sense of wrongness. As Bessy's footfalls must have become audible, Moon peeked out of the house, and, seeing Ross, ran towards him. Hawkeye, older but still quite lively ran along beside her, strangely quiet and somehow grim looking. "Oh Ross!" She got to him, and practically pulled him off the mule with her hug. "They took him! They took him!" She was weeping openly, almost sobbing. "I couldn't stop them! They took our baby!" Ross swung his leg off Bessy and hugged Moon back. "What do you mean? Who's taken him? Gerrard?" Moon, sniffing, nodded her head yes. "I tried to stop them. I couldn't conjure anything, though. All my," she sniffed, "all my defensive magic needs some preparation, and I was surprised. Oh Ross! What are we going to do! Gerrard!" He hugged her tightly to him, murmering comforting words, and they walked back to the house, the dog trailing alertly behind. CHAPTER Ross sat Moon Shadow down at their table. It was well built, probably made in a factory in China somewhere, or purchased cheaply at Ikea 15 or 20 years ago. There was a good deal of salvaged pre-Change stuff around the house. Ross's prized collection of books lined one wall. He handed her a mug full of heated wine which he'd just pulled off the fire. She took a sip, still sniffling, but calmer now. Ross sat down at the other chair, and said, "Now, tell me what happened." Hawkeye jumped up into Moon's lap, and she spent a moment petting his head. "Well," Moon's voice caught, and she started again. "I was weeding the garden, maybe half an hour before sunset. Gerrard was playing by the house, you know how he does." She smiled wanly at the mental image of their son playing. "Sure," Ross tried to smile, trying to feel anything in the shock of his son suddenly being absent. "Without any warning, I looked up to see a group of elves standing next to him, staring at me. Once they saw that I'd seen them, they lifted Gerrard up by one wrist, showing him to me. He had a blank look on his face. I think they put a spell on him so he wouldn't struggle. They lifted him up, sneered at me, and took off at a run." Her face contorted with tears again, and the next words came out in a high pitched voice, "I didn't have time to... do anything! They were gone!" She stopped, unable to continue. Hawkeye squirmed, plainly anxious to help but unable to. She drew a deep breath, cleared her throat, and went on, "I went over to where they'd been standing. There were footprints, but as soon as they got into the grass behind the house, I couldn't see them any more. I could sense lingering magic. I think they used some kind of concealment charm or spell. No," she said, more to herself than Ross, "it had to be a spell, a charm doesn't feel like that. I looked where they might have gone, but there was nothing to see, they didn't even leave a trace through the grass." She looked up at Ross, silent, eyes bright with unshed tears. "What are we going to do?" "They didn't say anything?" Ross's voice was dull and flat, still unbelieving. "No, they just stood there, holding up our baby. I didn't have anything ready, it's been so long since we've had any trouble. Oh, Ross, they just held him up and ran off! I don't understand what they could want!" She pounded on the table, once, in frustration. Her mug jumped slightly, slopping a rivulet of wine down the side. Hawkeye jumped too, looking between Ross and Moon. Ross tenderly put his hand, which was rough with calluses, over her fist. "We'll find him. I'll talk to the Council, see what they know. Maybe the sherriff knows something." "Will that be enough? How could Winston have even seen them? What if they hurt him?" "It doesn't sound like they intend to hurt him," said Ross thoughfully. "They could have hurt him here. Why lift him up like that? I think they were baiting you, or me." "But why? Why Gerrard? Did we do something?" Ross forced a smile through the grief that was stealing through him, having finally realized that his son was gone. It wasn't a joke. "We did a lot of things, don't you remember the War? Seen from the right perspective, we're responsible for the end of many lives, even more if you view us as part of 'the humans' rather than Ross and Moon Shadow." His eyes were tender as she examined her face. It was hard, almost impossible, to believe that just 8 years ago, he'd been employed as a genetic researcher in a city called Seattle. The world was so different now, dangerous in different, much more immediate ways. Moon sniffed again. "I guess you're right. I thought... I just thought the truce put that all behind us. They attacked us, after all." "A truce can only do so much. It's a dipomatic document. That doesn't mean it changes everyone's feelings. You should know that," Ross smiled gently again, "you're the wise witch of Central Snohomish village." Moon sniffed again, but smiled. "I should. It's hard to be wise about yourself, I guess. It's so easy to help other people: their problems are always so clear to me." She put her other hand over Ross's. "So, what do we do now?" "Let's consult with our wise elders, how about?" CHAPTER The next day, Ross and Nicole set out on foot to the Tribal Council building as soon as the sun was up, with Hawkeye walking along happily beside them. The Council likely wouldn't be all there and available, but someone would probably be around. Indeed, Elder Straightarrow, an octogenarian Suquamish native with long white braids and a gentle smile, was in the building when they arrived. He invited them in, blinking in the morning light. "What can I do for you, Mr. Hansen, Ms. Shadow?" said Straightarrow, as they sat down on pillows near the coals still burning in the hearth. Hawkeye sat upright between Ross and Moon looking alert, almost as if he were at parade rest. Ross and Moon exchanged a look, and silently decided that Ross would talk. He paused first, to show his respect to their elder. "Sir, it seems a group of elves snuck onto our farm yesterday just before sunset, and abducted our child, Gerrard." "I see," said Straightarrow. His face crinkled in thought, and after a moment he said, "Did they say anything to you, at the time?" Ross glanced at Moon again, then back at Straightarrow. "No, sir. They lifted Gerrard up, it seems, to demonstrate that they had him, then disappeared. Moon Shadow was there, and said she sensed magic, possibly from a spell they'd used to subdue Gerrard, or from a cloaking spell of some kind." Straightarrow considered this, examining Moon's face. Looking back up at Ross, he said, "We have not had trouble with the elves for some time. Do you know of some reason they would do this to you?" "That's what we were hoping you might help us with, Elder." "Hmm." The old man stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The elves don't covet our lands in the valley, but I'm sure they would be happy if we gave up some of our hunting lands in the hills. It seems an odd bargaining tactic to steal a human child for such an exchange, though. And elves are among the more diplomatic of the new creatures on the Earth." Straightarrow peered at Moon more closely. "Are you sure they were elves?" Moon nodded, afraid that if she tried to speak, she'd just start crying again. As it was, her eyes were on the verge of brimming over. "It seems very odd for them, but it could be a band of rogues." Straightarrow took a deep breath, sitting up as he did so. "Go to the elvish Baron to the east, whose name is Nunish. Tell them that I have sent you, and relate your story. Be careful not to accuse. The elves are proud, and take offense easily." He considered for a moment, then stood up, walking slowly over to a beat-up shelving unit made from pressed steel and particle board. He picked up something off a shelf, and brought it back to the pillows, and sat down. He handed the object to Ross: it was a glass paperweight, with pink coral trapped inside. It was heavy, and very pretty. "Give the elvish Baron this as a gift. They appreciate beauty, and I believe this will please them. It may make your task easier." Ross inhaled to express his thanks -- the paperweight must have been quite valuable -- but Straightarrow cut him off. "No, this is my duty to my people. I regret that I'm too frail to make the journey with you myself. It's best if you go as soon as possible. Gather up what you may need, and go today. I'll ensure that your farm doesn't go to seed, in exchange for the food you won't be eating while you're away." The Elder's face creased into a toothy smile. "Good luck on your journey. Do you know where your path takes you?" Ross shook his head no, and had a sketched map in his hand several minutes later: they were travelling east, into the mountains. The back of the map was a printout of a Wikipedia page on Pine Derby racing, Ross later saw. They could travel north, to the old Highway 2, but it would be nearly a day's journey on foot just to reach the road. Alternately, they could travel by a trade path that had been established more recently, connecting together many old Forest Service roads. Ross and Moon bowed their thanks to Straightarrow, and made the journey back to their house. Moon set about packing as Ross did what he could to secure the prizes he cared about: some of his books, a 3-pack of Bic lighters, a couple of good kitchen knives, his nice binoculars. He also put away all the stuff that might easily wander off as best as possible, but his actual lockable space in a footlocker was mostly taken up by the books. The house had a door, but there was no practical way to lock it from the outside, and Ross was now regretting that he hadn't looked for a hasp and padlock at the market. They'd managed to hold on to his old camping stuff, retrieving it before their flight from the city, so many years ago. They had the tent, the backpack, the titanium pots and pans, and a pair of sleeping bags. The stove would have been very useful if only there were any fuel, but they'd used it up years ago and Ross hadn't had the heart to toss the stove. Moon packed some spare clothing, the camping gear, and some of the food they had in the house. They'd have to scout for water as they went, although she filled up the one Nalgene bottle they had (a rather beat-up looking hard purple bottle with "Obama '08" emblazoned across it in chipped blue letters) with clean water. It was only a 32 oz bottle, though; it would barely be good for a day's travel. She stopped in her packing, and got Ross's attention as he came back into the bigger room in the house. "Ross," she said, "how are we going to protect ourselves, on the road?" "I was planning on taking my dirk, and my bow. Do you have any spells or potions or anything you could make up?" "I could. I've got a recipe for a pain potion, but it takes a while to brew up, and I'm not sure how to turn it into a useful form of protection." She smiled wistfully. "I wish I had a Super Soaker now." This made Ross chuckle. "Who ever knew one might come in handy?" "It's a different world," said Moon, musingly. She thought through what defensive spells she might be able to prepare ahead of time, but most of the magic she'd studied was to do with healing either people, animals or plants. She knew a certain amount about soothsaying, and of course could communicate at a distance with people, but none of that was particularly useful in a time of crisis. She'd always had Ross for that. "Well," said Ross, breaking into her musing, "why don't you brew the pain potion. How long does it take? What are the effects?" "It takes about 4 hours, plus I'll have to gather ingredients. We won't be able to leave until tomorrow." "That's probably alright. I'm thinking I'll stitch together some leather pouches. I'll put a weak stitch on one seam after they're filled, and perhaps we can throw them like little grenades. Is the potion watery, or thick?" "It's watery, but I can thicken it if that would help." "It would. You get set working on that, I'll start putting the pouches together. How much potion will you make?" "About this much," she held her hands out to encompass a sphere about the size of a basketball. "I doubt we'll be able to carry all that, but I'll make up as many pouches as I can." They still had half a tanned hide from the pig they'd slaughtered last year, which would make excellent pouches. They passed the afternoon at their tasks. Ross finished early enough to break off and practice target shooting with his bow. He still wasn't as good as he had been with that .22 rifle half his life ago, but it was much easier to come up with arrows and bowstrings than it was to find unfired .22 long-rifle shells. He'd seen other people carrying guns since the Change, but they must have had to be very careful with their shots. He prepared dinner for them as the sun sank low over the horizon. Moon finished up her potion as dinner was nearing readiness. "You want to help me test it?" she asked with the first smile he'd seen since before the trauma of last night. He looked up at her, to see if she was joking or not. "What does it do?" "It uses a combination of magical and mundane herbs to overstimulate your nerve endings, which is a sensation much like, but which isn't actually, pain. It's supposed to last for an hour or so. I tried a little spot here," she pointed at her left arm, which showed no sign of damage. "It definitely hurts, but it's not unbearable in tiny doses." "Sure," said Ross. He offered his left arm too, and she touched the potion-damp wooden spoon to his arm. Instantly, that spot started hurting as if she'd cut him. There was no damage, just a quickly evaporating damp spot. He sucked in his breath. "Ow, that stings. I'd hate to get that over my whole body. Can you wash it out of that spoon, or is it permanently tainted now?" He'd carved that spoon out of a bit of oak which had cost him a goodly handful of copper pieces. "I think it'll wash right out," she said, still smiling. "It hurts, doesn't it. I'm surprised it's that effective, but I've never needed to try it before." "Yeah, that's good stuff. We'll have to be very careful putting it in the pouches." Ross rubbed his arm, which actually made it a little bit worse: he'd spread the potion around a little bit. "Ow," he said again, making a sort of wincing/smiling face at his wife. They sat down to dinner, both nervous about their upcoming journey. They'd spent a lot of effort putting their farm together. The house alone had taken two years to complete, between bringing stones together, setting them in mortar (and creating the mortar, which had been no mean feat in itself), discovering and fixing leaning walls before (and after) they toppled, and so on. There was no end of excellent scrap material available 20 miles away in Seattle, or even 5 miles away in the ruins of Redmond, but that was a very long distance to haul building materials when your hauling equipment includes a mule and yourself, and there are numerous ridges to cross. It had been much easier and safer to find less refined, but more local building materials in the nearby hills, and at the river. They traded glances. Although it shouldn't seem like it, they both had a sense they might not see their farm again. CHAPTER The morning dawned bright but foggy. The smog from the nearby cities had long since subsided, but the sunrise still cast golden and red streaks through the sky, high above them. Sunrise was hidden from them by the mountains to the east, which cast spectacular shadows onto the sky. It would be a warm, clear day. Ross and Moon Shadow saddled themselves up with their gear and provisions. Hawkeye danced around them, excited to be going on a trip. Ross's long dagger hung from his side, and his bow was strapped across the back of the pack, along with a quiver full of arrows. His poleax, although a formidable weapon, was too ungainly to be good for travelling. Moon's pain grenades were strapped to the outside of her pack, where she could reach one or two of them quickly, but the rest would require her to remove the pack. They both had aching fingers after multiple splashes of the potion had hit their hands in the preparation process last night, but fortunately they'd avoided any major spills. They set out just as the sun was starting to peek over the Cascade mountains to the east. They were quickly headed into the sun, hands held up to shield their eyes from the light. Ross turned back to take a final look at his farm, the house looking oddly flat in the horizontal morning light. With surprising speed, they crossed the width of the valley. It always seemed so large, looking across the expanse of farmland, dotted with little houses similar to their own. Many of the old houses from before the Change had been destroyed in the fighting, or the earthquakes which had ravaged the land, and those that hadn't been destroyed had been looted and slowly reduced to gaping basement cavities by scavengers. Every once in a while you'd see an old house that was still occupied and in fairly good shape, but they were uncommon, and their owners tended to be very defensive of their dwellings. Most people now lived in much simpler houses like Ross and Moon's. They paused as they were ascending into the Cascade foothills, east of the valley, and looked back. The long river valley looked singularly peaceful, with its patchwork farms, sinuous river and little, rustic cottages. Ross was reminded of movies or pictures he'd seen of Scotland or New Zealand, places which were now so far away as to be near-mythical lands in their own right. "Have you seen pictures of Scotland?" asked Ross, as they stood, surveying the view, their packs leaning against trees. Moon took a drink from the plastic bottle of water, and said, "Yeah. I can see the similarity. There aren't enough lochs, though." "That's true, but with the mountains and the valley, it reminds me of pictures I've seen. I wish I'd gone there, now." "You mean to stay, or to visit?" Moon's tone was one of curiosity. Her face, once framed by dark brown hair, was now bordered by long salt-and-pepper hair, her clouded left eye making a stark contrast with her dark brown right eye. "To visit. I didn't do any travelling before or during college. By the time I graduated, I was so into the academic life that it didn't even occur to me to travel, I just kept studying. Now, there's no way to do any of that." "There are still sailing ships, they don't need electricity," Moon said, and after a moment of thought added, "Although their compasses read backwards now." "That's true, but it would be a long trip to get to Scotland from here. I'd have to travel for a year." "That's probably true. I heard a rumor that someone was working on getting a steam locomotive to work on some of the old railroad tracks, but they were having trouble with people stealing segments of track for the steel. That would have been nice to have." "It could still happen. It's not as if we're incapable of getting steam to work as a power source, and it's nearly as good as petroleum, although the equipment is heavier. They could use that to process more steel and replace the tracks. It's hard to see it being a priority right now, though. Too many people are just concentrating on surviving to spend any time working on big projects like that." Ross paused, musing. "I just hope," he continued, "that the books on steam power, and the people who have actually played with it, haven't been lost." "Mmm," said Moon, agreeing with him. She stood up from the rock she'd been sitting on. "Shall we keep moving? We probably have two more days before we get to the Baron's lands." "Yeah," said Ross, also standing up. He shouldered his pack again, ensuring that everything was still attached. Moon did likewise, and they set off. They kept hiking along the trade path, which alternated between wide, smooth fire roads and skinny winding trails between the roads. There was no other traffic to be seen, but the market in Carnation was still 4 days away. As the sun started sinking toward the horizon, they beat a path through the underbrush a couple hundred feet until they found a clearing. They were in increasingly dense woods now, and the clearing was little more than a wide spot between trees, where the canopy was so thick that no underbrush could grow. They pitched the tent and set up camp, starting a small fire to boil some water and heat their food, putting it out as soon as they could. There was no reason to call attention to themselves. The bright yellow tent was beacon enough. As they sat in the gathering darkness, they related tales of the years before they'd met. By the time it was fully dark, they'd washed out their dishes, hung the food to keep it out of the reach of bears (which had come back with a vengance once the human population had thinned out), and crawled into their sleeping bags, Hawkeye curled up between them. Within minutes, they were asleep. CHAPTER Ross awoke with a start. He opened his eyes, and realized that it was still very dark. Around them in the forest, it was silent. Ross quietly sat up in his sleeping bag. The forest wasn't just quiet, it was completely silent. Something was wrong. "Moon," whispered Ross, his face close to her ear. "Moon, wake up, something's wrong." He couldn't see Hawkeye, but somehow the dog gave off an air of silently snarling. She rolled over, looking up into his face, but the darkness was deep enough that she could only see his outline. "What's up?" she murmured, too loud. Ross put his finger to her lips on the second try. Very quietly, he said, "The forest's too quiet. Hawkeye's freaked out. Something's wrong. I don't know what, but something woke me up." He was, by this time, fully alert, ready for the world to explode. He reached for his dirk, and pulled it partway out of its sheath, although he doubted he'd be able to see anything if he stepped out of the tent. Moon sat up, more awake, but still bleary. "Hold on," she whispered. "Stop moving for a second." She closed her eyes and concentrated, her mouth forming silent words. She opened her eyes again, and looked at Ross's outline. "There are three creatures outside the tent. They're waiting for something, ready to act. I can't tell what they will do when they act, or what the trigger will be." "Are they magical?" "I think so." Moon stirred again slightly, and said, "Don't do anything for a moment. I think I can distract them." "Wait, what are you going to do?" "I spotted a dead branch up about 30 feet, maybe 40 or 50 feet from the tent. I think I can convince it to break off and fall down." "Will it be quiet?" Ross whispered to her. "No, it'll make a bloody great noise," she replied quietly. "No, I mean casting the spell. You usually have to talk out loud." "Yeah, I can do it without speaking. Now, quiet and let me concentrate." Ross did as he was told, sitting up in the little tent, gripping his half-unsheathed dirk in one hand, his other on the little beagle, who was standing rigidly in the dark. He was dressed lightly for sleeping, and pondered where he'd left his shoes while Moon Shadow bowed her head and mouthed silent words. Little sparks seemed to appear and disappear around her, although whether they were real or some kind of trick of his eyes, Ross couldn't be sure. After about a minute, he thought he could hear a creaking noise, which was followed by a definite, loud series of snaps. Hawkeye some how managed to tense further under Ross's hand. A moment later, there was a loud whump amid smaller crackles, presumably as the branch dropped to the ground, snapping off smaller branches on the way down. There was a brief, inhuman cry, followed by the scuffling of feet and crackle of little branches being broken. The noises faded into the distance, and Ross looked over at Moon Shadow. Her head was up again. After about 30 seconds of silence, she said, "I think they're gone." Ross unzipped the tent slowly, waiting for something to attack him. However, he got the zipper open, and peered out. The woods were dark, with no moon up. Ross looked back in, and whispered, "Can you do your light trick out here?" "Yeah, hold on." She muttered a few words and made an abbreviated flinging motion. Suddenly, there was a dim light over the scene outside. Ross looked up and saw a floating orb of light, drifting slightly despite the windless night. It immediately started fading as Ross climbed out of the tent and fully unsheathed his blade, which glinted dully in the eerie, unnatural light. Hawkeye followed him out, but didn't seem inclined to dash off into the night. There was no one there to fight. He walked towards where he thought he'd heard the scuffling sounds, and found the ground faintly disturbed. The light winked out as he was walking back towards the tent, and he made the last few steps with great care. Moon called out quietly, "What did you see?" "Nothing," replied Ross. "The ground was a little scuffed, but no obvious sign of what might have done it. You didn't get any sense of what they were?" He crouched down at the tent's door, and the beagle leapt lightly inside. "No, but they were intelligent." After a moment's thought, she said, "Is this about us, or are we just on someone else's land?" "Um," said Ross, trying to remember the layout of the land through here. "I think we're on human land, but we could have strayed onto dwarf land. I'm not sure. I thought camping along the trade road was allowed, but maybe we went too far off the road." He crawled back into the tent as he spoke, re-sheathing the long knife. It would be faint protection against anyone determined to do them harm, but might make a bandit pause and consider an easier target. As he slid back into his sleeping bag, he said, "I'm leaving the door partially unzipped. That zipper makes too much noise if I need to get out quickly." "Ok," she replied, quietly. "We should try to get back to sleep. I don't think they'll be back." "Yeah, hopefully I can sleep." Ross reached his hand out of his sleeping bag and into Moon Shadow's, where he clasped her hand in his. CHAPTER The sun rose on a peaceful scene at their campsite. They had no further disturbances in the night, although neither had really been able to get to sleep after the excitement. They emerged from the tent in a chorus of groaning and stretching, Hawkeye running off to attend to some doggy business. The forest floor was nowhere near as comfortable as the chicken-feather bed they'd built at home after the salvaged manufactured mattress had become too uncomfortable. Ross in particular was suffering from a crick in his neck that made him wince every time he looked to the left. Breakfast was a basic affair of salt pork and dried fruit. They were both anxious to get moving again, and were quickly back on the trade path. Hawkeye had learned to fend for himself on the farm, which had a fair supply of field mice and other small critters, and he seemed to be adapting well to the forest. He'd returned to the camp just before they were ready to go, looking pleased with himself. The miles passed slowly, as the path rose further up into the highlands which sloped eastward toward the mountains. There was no other traffic on the road, but the sounds of forest life reassured them that at least there was nothing too startling nearby. Ross at one point spotted a bald eagle circling overhead, with the glittering figures of several fairies trailing behind it, jostling to stay in the sweet spot of its slipstream. Magic had not wrought great changes to the land, if you discounted the earthquakes and odd volcanic eruptions around the Change time. There was no great abundance of magical creatures, and someone from before the Change, who didn't believe in magic, might not have noted any change at all, most of the time. The travellers still spotted, every once in a while, something new, like a dragon flying in the distance, or a small, bug-like fairy flitting along on some errand. At one point, Moon motioned Ross to a stop, and pointed at a small mound visible some distance from the trail. "Wee men," she whispered in his ear. Wee men were a race of irascible and incredibly strong men who stood perhaps three to five inches tall, and were bright blue. They were like fairies in some ways, but much more grounded. It was almost unheard of for humans to actually see wee men, although their effects were commonly seen: items which were at one moment sitting in plain sight would be gone the next. The victim would never find the item again, usually passing the loss off to absent-mindedness. The stolen items ranged anywhere from tiny to huge -- wee men had been known to steal cows out of the field. The wee men lived underground, in burrows, usually after kicking out the original inhabitants. This burrow seemed to still be active, and both Moon and Ross thought they spied activity at one point, but neither could be sure. Hawkeye didn't know what to make of it; he could tell there was something prey-sized there, but seemed reluctant to pursue it. They moved on after a moment: the wee men weren't that fond of humans, and could potentially cause them mischief they could ill afford. They stopped for lunch an hour or two after the sun had peaked in the sky. Ross had tried and failed to shoot a squirrel with his bow, nearly losing an arrow in the process. They found a likely pair of rocks, and sat, again chewing on salt pork. "How long until we reach the Baron's land?" asked Moon. She was looking around at their surroundings: sheer walls of barren rock. They were making their way up a valley. Ross went to his pack, and pulled out the map that Straightarrow had given him. He consulted it, looking up once or twice to get his bearings. "Well, if I'm understanding this correctly, I think we're about a day away still. The Baron's lands start here," he pointed to a spot on the map, "and we should get there about midday tomorrow. Then it's another 10 miles to his dwelling. It doesn't say what kind of a dwelling he has. I keep wanting to think it'll be a castle, but I'm pretty sure there weren't any castles up this way, and it seems unlikely they'll have built one this quickly." Moon considered for a moment, then said, "Yeah, it seems like they have better things to worry about than building a human-style house. I expect they'll be in tree houses or something, like in Lord of the Rings." Moon sometimes wondered whether human imagination had been guided by dormant magic, or whether it was the other way around. A surprising amount of pre-Change fiction about magic had turned out to have quite a reasonable bearing on the truth. "Well, we'll see by the end of tomorrow, I guess." Ross tucked the map away. He was still thinking about their visitors from last night, wondering who they'd been and what they'd wanted with a pair of humans. "Say, can you cast some kind of a warning spell around our campsite tonight?" "What?" Moon's mind had evidently wandered in some other direction, and it took her a moment to figure out what he was talking about. "In case we get more visitors. Or something that will stop them, or anything like that?" For all that every human on earth had some connection with magic now, Ross's connection was pathetically tenuous sometimes. "Yes, I suppose. I could at least set up a sort of tripwire system that will alert us if anyone goes past it. I should have thought of that last night." "Well, it's not as if we've done a lot of travelling," said Ross, a smile crossing his face. It was true: after the War, they'd essentially found their land and started setting up their lives there. They'd made a singular foray back into Redmond looking for salvageable items and materials early on, but it had been tiring, frightening, and essentially unsuccessful. Their lives had become extremely local. "True," said Moon. "I wish we could just be there, I'm already tired of walking." Ross grinned, the skin around his scar crinkling oddly. "We could fly, if you felt like being dragon bait." She grinned too, then said, "I'll have to see if I can figure out some kind of dragon repellent. There must be something they don't like eating." "If there is," said Ross, "I haven't heard about it." "C'mon, let's finish up and get going again. I just want to get there." Moon's voice conveyed weariness. "That's easy for you to say, you've got the light pack." "Awww, poor baby," said Moon, her weariness retreating as she mocked Ross's semi-serious remark. "You're the big strong man, though, I couldn't carry a big, heavy pack like that." Moon grinned mischeviously. "Now come on, let's get moving." "Alright." Ross heaved the pack onto his back again, and they set off down the trail. By nightfall, they'd made good progress. Ross estimated they must have walked more than 20 miles that day. He set up the tent and prepared dinner from their dwindling supply of food as Moon Shadow made slow progress in a circle around their camp, crouching down to the ground every few feet. When she was finished, she said, "There. Now, if anything much larger than Hawkeye crosses those lines," she pointed at the invisible circle she'd walked, "something like fireworks happen. Bright lights, popping noises, sparkles, and so on. Should be enough to scare off anything creeping around trying to be stealthy, and enough to wake us up if they get too close." "Can you see the lines, or do you just know where you put them?" "I just know, there's nothing to see. If you carefully scanned the area, you could probably tell that there was some kind of magic that had been done, but it would be no more obvious than a couple of humans snoring in a bright yellow tent." She grinned at him. She'd long thought the tent was a goofy thing to hold onto, but was now grateful they had it. It was very comforting to have walls around them, even if they only provided mental isolation. "Here," said Ross, handing her a titanium plate with some food. "Your gourmet repast is ready." He executed a courteous bow as she took the plate. "Delicious," she said after a few thoughtful bites. "Please send my compliments to the chef." Ross chuckled, a piece of bread half-way to his mouth. "I'm sure," he said, "the chef will be thrilled." In the distance, Ross heard a loud squeak as Hawkeye pounced on some unfortunate small rodent. By the time they'd cleaned up from dinner and hung the food, it was dark. Moon launched another glowing orb, stronger this time, so that they could complete their preparations. She showed Ross about where the trigger line was, and warned him not to cross it, or she'd have to redo the whole spell. Finally they were tucked into their sleeping bags, the tent door partially unzipped in case Ross had to get out in a hurry. Moon had gingerly placed one of the pain bombs just inside the door and next to the wall, where she could find it in the dark, and where Ross wouldn't accidentally step on it. He had his dirk close to hand, and gave Moon his little dagger that he usually used for food preparation. It was better than nothing. They tried to go to sleep, but neither had an easy time drifting off. Hawkeye didn't seem to share the problem, quickly falling asleep and into a whuffing, leg-twitching dream. Ross lay awake running through different scenarios in his head: what he would do if the tripwire spell went off; what he would do when they got an audience with the Baron; what he would like to do if he caught the elves who'd taken his son. Moon, for her part, was running through incantations, trying to figure out which ones would be useful if intruders arrived tonight. She was also trying not to think of their coming meeting with the elf Baron: she didn't think anything would come of it, and feared that their trip was in vain, although she didn't tell Ross that. Of course, both of them were very tired, having slept far too litle the night before. The day's hiking wasn't especially strenuous, now that they were used to long days working on the farm, but they were also used to sleeping the whole night through. It had been years since Gerrard had been waking up frequently in the night. He was four years old now. Both Ross and Moon were asleep when the tripwire went off. Ross sat up instantaneously, the dirk in his hand. Moon had rigged the tripwire so that in addition to firework-like effects, one of her light orbs would be launched into the air, lasting for several minutes. Ross bolted out of the tent as Moon sat up, disoriented and trying to remember where she was. "Show yourself!" shouted Ross in the bizarre light, surrounded by darkness. The forest was deadly silent, between the unnatural light, the loud noises, and whatever was out there. He couldn't hear any movement, so whatever it was, it was still there. "I know you're there! Show yourself!" he repeated. Hawkeye shot past him, quickly disappearing into the darkness. As he stood there, breathing hard, ready to attack or flee, he heard a faint whistling noise doppler past, and realized that an arrow had just passed over his head. He heard it land many yards behind him, and he charged in the same direction Hawkeye had run, which seemed to be where the arrow had come from as well. Moon was climbing out of the tent, pain bomb in one hand. She couldn't see anything, and quickly sent another light orb into the air, attached to Ross so it would float over his head. She tried to follow after him, but with only one eye, moving quickly in the dark was dangerous, so she had to pick her way carefully. Ross quickly outpaced her, but she could still see the orb over his head as he moved. Ross ran forward, looking for his assailant. He held the dirk out and to his side, ready to lash out, but no enemy appeared. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, and the rasping of his own breath. He had hardly run any distance, but his body was desperately ready to fight. He stopped, and shouted, "What do you want!?" The forest gave no reply. In the distance, an owl hooted. Ross stood there, breathing hard for a few minutes. He tensed as he heard noises coming toward him, but it was just Hawkeye, trotting back. Finally he turned, and headed back to the campsite. His heart was still pounding, and he was still breathing quickly. The adrenaline of the moment, enhanced by the anticipation of just such a situation, was coursing through him. But there was no one to fight, and nowhere to run. He caught up with Moon, who was picking her way over a dead log lying across her path. "What did you see?" she asked. "Nothing. Whoever or whatever it was, I didn't spot it. I heard an arrow fly by, though, so there was definitely someone out there. And Hawkeye took off after something, but never barked, and doesn't seem to have found it. Maybe they were using that cloaking spell you mentioned." Moon Shadow closed her eyes, and a look of concentration suffused her face. After several seconds, she opened her eyes again, and said, "I'm not sure. My spells are clouding the scent of other magic. But it seems likely." She hefted the little leather hand grenade, and said, "I was looking forward to testing this on some deserving elf." "How long will these lights last?" "Hmm? Oh, a minute or two more. Why?" "I want to see if I can find that arrow." "Ok. Do you want some help?" "Sure." They spent the next five minutes looking for the arrow, Moon casting up another light when the first one grew dim and faded out. They didn't find the arrow, and Ross concluded that it must have slid under the universal layer of dead leaves and fir needles, which would make it nearly impossible to find. Finally, they retired to the tent again, but neither Ross nor Moon were the least bit sleepy now. They sat up talking instead, wrapped in their sleeping bags. "Why don't you use that light spell at home?" asked Ross. "I'm just curious." "Oh, it takes a fair amount of effort, and it doesn't last very long. The best I can do is about five minutes, and I feel noticeably drained after casting one that strong. Doing several like tonight leaves me feeling pretty wiped out." She smiled into the darkness that had again descended on their campsite as she scratched the dog behind the ears. "I guess candles are a bit easier, huh." "Definitely. Plus, a tallow candle will burn for hours. It's only a couple of coppers for a candle at the market, there's no comparison." "Did you make that light stick to me, somehow?" "Oh, yeah. I can kind of anchor them to things if I need to. Otherwise they just drift slowly in the air. They usually go out before they move very far." "What are they, anyway?" "Well, in a way, they're pure magic. It's like I'm gathering magic from the world, and concentrating it so that it will glow like that. It's a trick that Jackson and I worked out after the War. It takes a lot of energy for how much light you get, though." "What ever happened to Jackson? Did he end up with a travelling troupe?" "Yep," said Moon, reflecting on a memory. "Last time I saw him in person, he was passing through the market in Carnation, staging an episode of Friends." Ross groaned. "Friends? Couldn't he at least do Shakespeare or something? Why bad 90s sitcoms?" "People pay good money for that kind of thing. He figured out the electricity thing pretty quickly when it was starting to go out, and spent some quality time downloading scripts and printing them out before everything permanently stopped working. Lucky he did, in a way: those might be the only copies of those scripts in existence any more." "Great. I would have been much more pleased to hear he'd printed out the Office or something like that." "He probably did. I think he went through a couple reams of paper, printing out scripts, magic-related websites, and so on. You could argue that his library is just as important as your library." Ross was silent for a second, and Moon tried to figure out if she'd offended him by comparing popular entertainment to his storehouse of practical knowledge. Then he said, "You said 'the last time I saw him in person.' Are you still in contact with him via scrying?" "Yep. It's been a while, though. If I don't have a decent idea where he is, it's pretty hard to find a mirror or window near him. Plus, of course, there are far fewer mirrors and windows now than there were at the beginning. He doesn't have a crystal ball like I do, but I think he has a piece of mirror he uses for shaving, on the cart. That's usually not too useful, since it's buried in a box or something a lot of the time." "Doesn't he call you?" "Yeah, that's usually how we get in contact. He knows I'm not moving, so it's pretty easy for him to find me. But that depends on him remembering to try." She smiled into the darkness again. "I'm glad he's still around," said Ross, after a moment's pause. "A lot of people died or disappeared. It's nice to have little links to the past like him." "Definitely," replied Moon. There was a silence, which stretched to several minutes, each person lost in their own thoughts and memories. Breaking the silence, Moon said, "Do you want to try getting some sleep again? I can't feel anyone out there. Whoever it is, they've probably gone away for the night." "Yeah," said Ross, his voice suddenly very weary. "I could use some more sleep. Tomorrow, we'll be at the Baron's, and hopefully we'll have less to worry about there." He stretched out in his sleeping bag again. Moon stretched out beside him a moment later, and they fell asleep, hand in hand, after half an hour of anxious attention to the sounds of the forest. CHAPTER The next morning dawned overcast and cooler. They weren't awoken by the rising sun as they had been the previous day, and ended up sleeping longer than they'd intended: it was fully light by the time they woke up. Once again, their nighttime assailant or assailants had left them in peace after being scared off. Hawkeye was no longer in the tent, and they found him several hundred feet away, sniffing at the ground. Packing up their equipment and getting ready to leave was a largely silent affair. By unspoken agreement, both Ross and Moon Shadow wanted to get moving as quickly as possible. They started walking without even breaking their fast, sharing salt pork and sips of water gathered from a stream Ross had found the previous day. There was a risk of giardia from drinking the untreated water, but the risk ranked low in their minds, compared to everything else they were facing. Once they were walking, the tension of the late start eased somewhat, and Moon found her mind wandering. Around mid-morning, she said, "Hey, Ross." "Mmm," replied Ross, lost in his own thoughts. "I've always wondered this, but keep forgetting to ask: if the electrons stopped working the same when magic came back, why didn't everything disintegrate or something?" She was referring to the fact that all cells contain electrons, and if the electrons stopped working in circuits, they should have also stopped working in all forms of matter, essentially blowing the world into atom-sized dust. "That's a good question," said Ross, his scientific curiosity engaged. "I've wondered the same thing myself. I still don't know, but I have some theories." "Like what?" Moon stepped up a series of rocks in the trail -- the trade road had become the trade singletrack. She tangentially wondered how the traders got their carts down a track like this. "My best theory is that it's magic." He smiled at his little joke, but Moon didn't get it. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Oh. I just mean that the return of magic screwed up physical laws -- they're not laws any more. Early on, I tried doing experiments with magic, remember? I couldn't get a repeat result two times in a row. I eventually concluded that magic isn't a thing, a force or whatever, that followed normal physical laws as we understand them. In addition, it seems to screw up the other laws a bit. So the reason that the Change broke all the electronics but not all of matter is that magic doesn't always produce effects like you'd expect based on the old rules." Moon was silent for a moment as they walked, thinking over his answer. "I guess that makes sense, although I would say that magic is pretty repeatable for me. I always perform a spell the same way, for instance." "Maybe," said Ross, his breath coming shorter as their walk became more of a climb, "that's because you're operating within magic's realm. I don't really know." "What are your other theories?" "Oh, the only other one that makes any sense to me is that matter 'remembers' how to work in a magical environment. The world didn't explode when the magic went away five millenia ago, so why should it do so when the magic comes back?" He paused again for breath. "There were no electronic circuits during the magic to no-magic transition, so there was no way to notice the effect. Anyway, around three thousand BC, there probably wasn't sufficiently advanced," breath, "science to know the difference." About 20 minutes later, they paused at a flat spot in the trail. Presumably this trail joined up with the old route of Highway 2 beyond the pass, although they would reach their destination before then. Ross surveyed where they come from, and exclaimed, "Look at that!" He pointed down the trail. "It's so steep. I didn't realize we were climbing so much." Moon leaned her shoulder against his in a playful push. "This from the guy carrying the heavy pack..." She made a sort of mopey face for the last two words, mocking his occasional complaints. Ross laughed. "Yeah, that's true. Well, I'm glad I'm unaware of the slope. Better than being way too aware of it." They moved on, stopping for lunch only long enough to unpack some snacks for the trail. Ross was worried -- his pack was getting noticeably lighter, and he knew that their food must be near an end, although he hadn't taken the trouble to inventory what was left. As the sun rolled down the sky, ducking in and out of sight behind the clouds, they walked on. Ross reckoned that they'd passed into the Baron's lands sometime several hours after lunch, although there was no indication of where the border had been. They were traversing a particularly rough section of the trail, deep in a valley, when it became apparent that they were definitely in elvish territory. Four elves, dressed in dark green clothing that blended with their surroundings, suddenly appeared in front of them, weapons casually visible. Ross, Moon and Hawkeye stopped short. "What is your business here, humans," said one of them, stepping forward. Ross stepped around Moon, and bowed, his hands open and turned forward, to show he wasn't hiding anything. He wasn't sure how to deal with elves, as they generally kept themselves separate from humans. He'd certainly seen them during the War, but they'd generally been engaged in trying to kill each other, so there was little etiquette to observe. He straightened up and looked at the lead elf. "Greetings, my name is Ross Hansen. I have come on the advice of my Elder, Straightarrow of the Suquamish tribe to the west. We seek an audience with Baron Nunish of the elves." "On what business do you seek an audience with the Baron?" The elf seemed imperious, although between the delicate features, slanted eyes and apparently natural sneer which rested on all their faces, Ross couldn't tell if he was receiving antipathy or merely curiosity. "Ah," Ross paused. He hadn't really thought this far ahead, although it seemed like he'd run through the actual conversation with the Baron thousands of times in his head. "A band, apparently composed of elves, took our son three days ago. We wish to ask the Baron if he's aware of some offense we may have done him to cause such an action, or if he's aware of any rogues who may have done this. We wish no ill will," Ross licked his lips nervously. "We simply wish our son back." The lead elf seemed consider him, his eyes growing narrower. Apparently coming to a decision, he nodded once, curtly. "Very well. You will follow us. If we detect any signs of aggression, you may expect to be destroyed." The tall, thin elf pulled out a length of cord, and handed it to Ross. "Secure your knife with this. You will not need it while under our protection." Ross did as he was told, although the dirk was in the Scottish style, and offered very little hilt around which to tie the cord. He briefly wondered why the elves were able to speak English, but the answer, "Magic" bubbled up in his mind almost as soon as he'd considered the question. Ross glanced down at Hawkeye, but the little beagle didn't seem to have a strong reaction to the elves. He was usually a pretty good indication of whether another being was a threat or not. Apparently he didn't find these elves threatening. They silently followed the four elves. Ross found himself studying them, curious about the reclusive race. They were universally tall and slightly built, with pointed, outward-leaning ears poking through their hair. They weren't the long ears of some depictions he'd seen in movies and illustrations, but they were definitely pointed, and longer than human ears. Their hair was long, and all four had light-colored hair. On the leader, it was a slightly bluish shade of white, while on the others, there was one who had human-looking blond hair. The other two had unnatural shades of white as well: one slightly green, the other a darker shade of blue, almost purple. Ross wondered if that was the result of dye, or if their hair grew that color naturally. For all that they looked thin, Ross suspected that they were stronger than they looked. They moved with a peculiar grace that he would normally associate with a cat, and seemed to be very aware of their surroundings. They weren't nervous exactly, but very ready, as if prepared for anything that might happen. The effect was surprisingly feline. After about 45 minutes of walking, they stopped. Ross and Moon looked around, but there was nothing to see. The forest floor was bare of underbrush, although the canopy was so thick that this didn't seem unusual. The lead elf, who still hadn't identified himself, made a noise which was somewhere between a yelp and a whistle, in a warbling, minor scale. With a whump, a heavy rope end dropped to the ground. Looking up, Ross suddenly saw that the canopies of the trees were unusual looking here, and realized that the elves must indeed live in tree houses. The three elves who hadn't spoken clambered up the rope, one by one. Ross spoke up just as the lead elf was reaching for the thick cord. "Excuse me," he said. The elf looked around at him, the same imperious expression on his face. "We, ah. We won't be able to climb the rope. Well, without considerable difficulty. Do you have anything else available, maybe a rope ladder?" Ross waved back at Moon and Hawkeye. Moon was staring up the rope, and Hawkeye was sitting casually, looking up at Ross. The elf considered them for a second, then, without saying a word, he turned to the rope and climbed quickly up it. He disappeared rapidly into the dark green underside of the canopy. Ross stood, staring after him, wondering what he was meant to do. He turned to Moon, to ask her what he should do, but before he could speak, they both heard an odd noise. Looking upward toward the sound, it was several moments before they realized that the odd sussuration was the result of something being lowered to the ground. As it got closer, Ross realized what it was: a platform, or a shallow bucket. It settled to the ground 10 feet in front of them, and they heard from above: "Get in." They did as they were told, silently exchanging a glance that shared confusion. Ross grabbed up Hawkeye, who panted happily, his mouth pulling into a doggie smile. Immediately, the wide, shallow bucket, which just fit the three of them, started moving slowly upward. The sussuration got louder, and as they ascended into the trees, Ross could start to make out the mechanism that was lifting them -- it was some kind of a large spool, half-wound with rope, and gradually filling up as they rose. It seemed to be powered by a half-dozen elves moving rhythmically near to the spool. After about a minute, they stopped, and looked around. There was a complex system of suspended walkways and small but neat houses scattered around the trees. Ross couldn't help but exclaim, "But I couldn't see any of this from below!" The lead elf was standing nearby. Rather than reply to the comment, he simply waved them to follow him. The elves working the crank had already dispersed along the walkways. Ross set Hawkeye down and took Moon's hand. They walked behind their escort, looking around in wonder at the well-concealed aerial town. It only took a minute to reach their apparent destination: a small, circular, but otherwise unremarkable house built around a stout-looking Douglas Fir. The elf turned to face them, and said, "Wait in here. You will be able to see the Baron in the morning. If you are able to write, you will find paper and a pen inside. Write your plea to the Baron, and hand it to anyone passing by, it will be delivered. Do not attempt to leave." He turned on his heel, and before either Ross or Moon could think of what to say, he was gone. CHAPTER They piled into the little house, which was surprisingly spacious on the inside. They shucked off their packs, which suddenly felt as though they were made of lead. Ross groaned happily as the weight left his shoulders, and took a couple of bouncing steps around the little room. Without any warning, Moon sank to the ground, her face screwed up with grief. Alarmed, Ross crouched beside her, and hugging her face to his chest, he said, "What's wrong? We're here, we're about to get an answer." He felt his own face cloud up, as the loss of his only child hit him full-force for the first time since he'd come home from the Council meeting. "What..." Moon started, but couldn't finish. "I just realized, we're here..." she sniffled mightily, but that just made things worse. After a minute, her sobs subsided, and with a swallow she was able to continue. "We're here, and what if they don't know anything? What if this whole trip was in vain? Gerrard might be anywhere by now..." She trailed off, as she was again overtaken by tears. Ross sat down next to his wife, but found that he couldn't see her through his own tears. He'd had to play the part of the strong, supportive man for so long, through so much, that it had taken him this long to realize what the situation really was. He pressed his forehead against hers, and they shared their grief for many minutes. There was no door on the little house, but they had unselfconsciously curled around each other on the floor, each supporting the other. The room was dark, with no windows, and the world outside almost completely black. Finally, as the overpowering surge of feeling subsided, Ross untwined himself from Moon. He sat up, still holding her hand. His right side, where she'd been curled around him, was damp from sweat where their combined body heat had been concentrated. After a moment, Moon sat up too, and they both leaned against the central pole of the tree's trunk. Hawkeye dropped his chin into Moon's lap sympathetically, and she listlessly played with his ears. "Well," said Ross, after clearing his throat several times. "We've done our best. I think Straightarrow gave us good advice, we just have to let it play out to the end. We've made a very good effort," Moon nodded, sniffling, as he spoke, "and we'll just have to see what happens. I'm sure the Baron can give us some help, even if it's just a little bit of food and the name of the rogues." Moon looked over at Ross, her face a darker spot against the darkness of the room. "Do you think it was rogue elves?" "I don't know. Do you? You actually saw them." "Well," Moon's voice was rough, "they weren't dressed like these elves are, that's for sure. Everyone here looks nice, or at least well groomed. Those elves looked ragged, like characters from Mad Max, not like extras on a Robin Hood set." She smiled a little smile at her witticism. Ross smiled too, although it was now so dark that he hadn't seen her face. "That argues for them being rogue, then." "I hope you're right. If they weren't rogue, that means we're up against all these elves here, right?" Her voice was tiny, and Ross was struck by it: she'd been so strong through so much, it was very strange to hear the fright in her voice. "I'm not sure," replied Ross. He paused, thinking, then continued, "I thought I'd heard that there were several... bands, or groups, or whatever you'd call them, of elves around the valley. Straightarrow seemed pretty certain that we should talk to these elves, so either he knows something he didn't tell us, or these are the main group near us." He paused again, then said, "I don't like to think that there's something he didn't tell us." "What would he have told us? That he suspects these elves would steal human children? He'd poison us against our mission right from the outset." Moon's long experience dealing with other people's problems suddenly asserted itself, although her voice didn't sound very confident. "Oh, I suppose that's right. Good thought." Moon smiled at the compliment, which helped to pick her up out of her grief. "Well," she said, her voice clearer now, "you don't get to be the village wise woman by only knowing how to brew up the odd potion." After a moment, she said, "Did you ever read any Terry Pratchett?" "No, I don't think so. What did he write?" "A series of books call the Discworld series. They were fantasy, set on a magical world that was actually flat. Anyway," she quickly continued, forestalling the questions she knew were already forming in Ross's mind, "in a couple of his books he had some characters, who were witches. I forget their names, now, but their leader, Granny Somebody, almost never did magic." "Why not?" Ross had indeed formulated many questions, but had also realized that the purpose of this anecdote was not to explain to him how a disc-shaped world could possibly work. He played his part, suppressing the pesky logical questions. "She said you don't need to. It's all down to psychology, although she called it something else. What she meant was that in the same way you don't solve a dispute with a neighbor by chopping them to pieces just because you have a sword, you also don't solve a problem by casting a spell on it just because you can. "All of which is to say that the reason people come to me is not that I can do magic, although that's usually why they think they're coming to me, but because I can see how to solve their problems, and help them do it. It's a bit like being Dear Abby -- I just have to be separate from the problem, so I can see it impartially." She was silent for a moment, and Ross heard her other hand move. "Hmm," she said. "Maybe I should start calling myself Granny Shadow or something." She giggled at the thought. Ross laughed too, and said, "Do you really want to be known as a Granny before you are one?" They both realized that for all that they were 36 and 33 respectively, their faces had been aged by the travails of the Change, and the outdoor, hard-working life they'd been forced to adopt after everything had fallen apart. "No, I guess not. Mommy Shadow doesn't really have the same ring, though, does it." Moon giggled briefly again, and sighed, as the grief threatened to break through again. She pushed it back. Changing the subject, she said, "Did you want to write down our plea to the Baron?" "Oh," said Ross, "I completely forgot. Good thought. Did you spot the paper when we came in?" "No, I didn't really see much of anything." For the first time since they'd come in, Ross realized that he could actually see a little bit. Looking out the open door, he saw that the walkways were gently lit by what might have been paper lanterns. "I wonder," he said aloud, "if I could borrow one of those lights." Moon shifted to look out the door, and saw what he was looking at. "Oh, don't worry about it. How long will it take you to write all that stuff down?" By unspoken agreement, Ross was the spokesman for this trip. He was more eloquent when necessary, even if he was less empathic when it came to solving problems. "Probably five or ten minutes," he replied. "I can give you light for that long. Let's not risk angering them by touching anything. The elf who brought us here did say we weren't supposed to leave." "True. If you're up for it, that'd be great. I only need enough light to see the paper, if a dim light is easier." "Yeah," she said, and then went silent. Ross could see her silhouette as she stood up, and spoke unfamiliar words under her breath. She made the same abbreviated throwing gesture, and a dim, glowing cloud appeared above them. Ross spotted the paper and the pen, which was a quill made from the feather of some bird he didn't recognize. He took them up, and after a few false starts with the unfamiliar quill, scratched out approximately what he'd told elven party that intercepted them on the trail. Finished, he blew gently on it, trying to dry the ink. The light slowly faded out, and he put his hand on Moon's arm as she got up to cast another illuminatory spell. "It's ok, I'm done. We just have to wait a moment for the ink to dry, and I can pass this on to the Baron." They sat for five more minutes, holding hands in silence, before Ross got up and found the paper after a moment's fumbling. He took it to the door, and held it out, not quite knowing what to expect. Nothing happened, so he poked his head out. Spotting an elvish woman passing by, he said, "Excuse me." She turned sharply to look at him, then, seeming to realize who he was, took the paper from him without speaking, and continued on her way. Ross ducked back into the little house, and said, "I had a moment there, where I wondered if by hailing a woman instead of a man, I'd committed some horrible blunder. But she didn't seem to mind." Moon said, "What are you talking about?" "Oh," said Ross, looking down at where her voice had come from, "I just had this momentary fear that elves were like Arabs or something. I handed the paper to a woman who was passing by." "Probably not. Come sit down. We should make ourselves comfortable and go to sleep. Who knows how early the Baron will want to talk to us tomorrow." "True," said Ross, and started unrolling their sleeping bags. They lay down on the floor of the hut, and Moon amused Ross by telling the story of a shiek in Iraq around the time of the Change, who'd tried to assert his importance when confronted by an efreet, a sort of Persian spirit. The efreet had demanded to know who the sheik was, and he responded importantly with his name and title in some oil business. The efreet, unimpressed, had told the shiek that his business was unimportant, and asked how he was related to the royal family. The shiek had become offended, and explained in no uncertain terms his importance in the world, apparently using language the efreet had found objectionable. The sheik ended up imprisoned in a nearby jerry can, the nearest thing the efreet could find to an oil lamp. Chuckling at the image of the arrogant sheik, who was so important in a way that the world no longer cared about, they fell asleep, finally sleeping the whole night through. CHAPTER A trio of elves approached the humans' temporary dwelling as the sun was slowly climbing the slope of the Cascades, and rapped on the wall of the little house. Ross and Moon Shadow were still asleep, but Ross came to life immediately, leaping from his sleeping bag, his hand automatically going to his dirk. The three elves stood impassively, although their eyes fell to Ross's dirk for a moment. Ross quickly remembered where he was, which, combined with the odd feeling of the cord tied to the dirk's handle, made him drop his hand to his side. "Good morning," he said, after a moment of wondering whether they were going to kill him. "Good morning, Ross Hansen, Moon Shadow." Moon had gotten up, and stood behind and to one side of Ross now. "Your presence is requested at the Baron's court. Please make yourselves ready, and come with us." The three elves stood as if rooted to the spot. Ross and Moon turned around, and quickly pulled on clothing as Hawkeye wove excitedly through their feet. As they were ready to pass through the door, Moon turned back into the hut and went to Ross's pack. She realized she had no idea where to look, and turned back to Ross. "Where's that thing Straightarrow gave us?" "Oh, right," he said, and strode back to his pack, where he quickly located the paperweight. They rejoined their escort, and walked briskly for a minute or two across the surprisingly steady walkways of the aerial town. Hawkeye elicited several strange stares from passing elves, and Ross wondered if the elves ever kept pets. They arrived at the door of a larger tree house, although it was still far from being a castle. They walked through the door, and it was as if the universe had twisted 90 degrees while they weren't paying attention. The inside of the tree house was far larger than the outside, hung with rich tapestries, and looking every bit as regal as Ross had expected when he first heard he'd be visiting a Baron. An elf standing to one side said loudly, "Mister Ross Hansen; Mistress Moon Shadow." Looking around for any clues as to what they were supposed to do, Ross and Moon walked hesitantly forward, toward a raised dais which held an improbably plush-looking chair. "Come forward," said the figure sitting in the throne. "We do not stand on as much ceremony as I've heard human royalty requires." As they got closer, Ross realized that he must be looking at the elvish equivalent of a fat old man. No longer painfully thin, this elf, who must be Nunish, looked to be a healthy human girth, if somewhat tall. The points of his ears curved down at the top, and his face was more lined than those of the other elves they'd seen. His hair was very long indeed, brushing down to his knees as he sat. It was a golden yellow color, similar to that of straw. He wasn't dressed appreciably differently to the other elves, although he had an ornately decorated sword sheathed and propped up against the throne. "I have read your plea," he said as they got within comfortable conversation distance. Ross could immediately tell that he was more affable than any of the elves they'd interacted with so far. He continued, "I don't know of anyone in my reign who would do such a thing. Since the War, we have come to view humans as equals. The elves under my command know that to steal a human child would be a punishable act." He didn't seem to offer any clue what the punishment might be, although Ross found himself finishing the statement: "...by death." He couldn't tell if that was just how the phrase was normally used, or if that was what Nunish meant to imply. "Please, sir," said Moon, surprising Ross. He'd figured that he would be doing all the talking, but he wasn't about to interrupt her. "We just want our child back. Do you know who might have done such a thing?" Nunish seemed to consider, then said, "Tell me about the abduction." He had a quality to his voice that put Ross in mind of Vaseline coating his vocal cords. Moon briefly recounted the episode, expanding on details as requested. "And were you there?" Nunish asked Ross. "No, sir. I was away, and heard the story second-hand from my wife, although I am no less aggrieved by the actions of those responsible." "Yes... yes." Nunish put his hand to his chin thoughtfully, staring at the floor at Moon's feet. He looked up again, and said, "From what you've told me, Moon Shadow, it sounds as though your child has been taken by the Kho'loc tribe. They are, as you have hinted, renegades among elves. We do not like them, but they're not bothersome enough to be worth eliminating." "Please, sir, can you give us any more information than that?" "Yes. They're based south of here, about 50 miles, in a mountain pass. Can you read maps? I'll have one of my aides draw you a map of where to find them. However, you're in for a fight. They're not pleasant like we are. The Kho'loc are outlaws among elves. I don't know why they would take your child, but having taken him, they're unlikely to simply give him back." The mention of giving reminded Ross of the gift in his hand. He held it forward, and Nunish reached out a hand to receive it. His fingers were strangely long and thin. The old elf looked the bauble over, then looked up at Ross with a look of open wonder on his face. "What is it?" "It's a paperweight, made of glass, with sea coral inside. Our Elder Straightarrow gave it to us to give as a gift to you. He said you would appreciate it." Nunish looked back down at the paperweight, peering closely at it. "Tell your Elder that he's right. This is fascinating. What is 'sea coral?'" "Ah, it's a sort of animal that lives in the ocean. It builds up a shell around itself, sort of like a snail does on land, only much more ornate and complex. That piece is probably from a colony that was a thousand or a million times bigger than that." "Amazing," said Nunish, his attention fixated on the object. "This is an animal? It looks like bones." "Well, a very small one. I think that piece might have housed hundreds of tiny animals, but I'm not sure. My expertise doesn't approach coral." Nunish looked up, again surprised. "Your expertise? What is your expertise? I thought you grew crops down in the valley." "Oh, no, sir. I was trained at a university in something called DNA sequencing. It's..." Ross searched for the words to describe a science which, for all he knew, magic had rendered irrelevant. "Well, it's the science of observing and identifying very very tiny structures in a living being, which dictate the being's characteristics." "Really." Nunish seemed to be equally as amazed at Ross's statement as he was by the coral, although Ross couldn't tell which part amazed him: that he was more than a simple farmer, or that he'd studied incomprehensibly small structures inside living beings. "So, with this DNA, what did you do?" "Well... It's hard to explain, sir, as I would have to explain a great deal of context for it to make any sense. But basically, I found the information, which was then used by other scientists to manipulate the structure of creatures and create new ones." "New structures?" "No, new creatures." "That is high magic indeed," said Nunish, obviously impressed. "Yes," Ross conceded, "I guess it was a sort of magic." "Can you still do it?" "No," said Ross, growing uncomfortable. He had a feeling this would culminate in a request for a demonstration. "The procedure requires equipment which no longer works, and chemicals I no longer have access to. The magic we depended upon, called electricity, stopped working when the magic you know returned to the world. Unfortunately, the science of DNA sequencing is probably lost to the world." "Yes, I suppose if your magic stopped working, that would make it difficult to continue. A pity. It sounds like a useful thing to know." "It was," said Ross, trying not to sound wistful. "I still know many things, which continue to work, but my speciality is now anachronistic." Ross almost immediately regretted saying this, as he imagined unleashing the worlds of chemistry and formalized engineering upon an already formidable race. "I see. Some other time, when you don't have such pressing business, I'd like to speak with you about your other knowledge. We have seen a great deal of evidence that humans were not idle while our magic was dormant. Your eclectersity must have been very powerful." "Yes, sir. It was. I would enjoy speaking with you further, but I agree, our business is pressing." Ross paused, uncertain whether he should ask, but he decided it couldn't hurt. "By any chance, sir, could you spare us some food? We've exhausted our supply, and I fear we'll be greatly delayed if we have to hunt before moving south." "Oh, yes, of course. Please speak with my chamberlain, who will greet you as you leave. He will supply you with sufficent food to reach the Kho'loc. Travel safely, with the blessings of elfkind upon you." "Thank you, sir," said Ross and Moon, almost in unison. Nunish looked back down at the paperweight, and it became apparently that Moon and Ross were excused. CHAPTER The chamberlain did indeed heap food upon them, although it was unfamiliar. Some of it looked like bread, but wasn't enough like bread that Ross would swear that's what it was. There was a length of something that looked a bit like hard sausage, but smelled like vegetables. Afterwards, Moon wondered aloud if elves were vegetarian, and Ross replied that he didn't know. Their audience with the Baron had taken about half an hour, and by the time they'd packed up and been lowered down on the cargo lift, it was late morning. They'd received a considerably more intricate map from the elves than Straightarrow had drawn for them. It looked positively archaic, like something you'd see inside the front cover of a fantasy novel, curly Celtic-looking script labelling features and everything. Ross was almost surprised when he didn't find a section labelled, "Here be dragons." As they walked away from the elevated town, Ross looked up, and could just barely make out a few of the tree houses and walkways. The elves' ability to conceal their dwellings was amazing, his eyes seemed to slide right off the structures he could see when he concentrated. Ross suddenly felt bad that their humble little farmhouse was so comparatively crude. They hiked onward with a spring in their step. Although the elves had left them with at least as many questions as answers, it felt as though they were making progress. After half an hour of walking in silence, Moon said, "Did you notice how Nunish seemed to be older than all the other elves?" "Yeah," said Ross. "If we're only in year eight," said Moon, referring to the new Magical Era year numbering some people were using, "how can he possibly be that old? Do elves age quickly?" "Good question. Everything I've ever heard or seen about them suggests that they don't age at all, or age very slowly. I have the impression some magical creatures just sprung up, fully-formed. Maybe he's one of them. Maybe they all are." "I guess that makes as much sense as anything else. It's odd to think about, all these creatures somehow sitting around, dormant, while there was no magic in the world." "Heh, yeah," said Ross. "Makes you wonder if some non-magical creatures have gone dormant now that magic is back." "Yeah... I wonder if that's where some of the people went," said Moon. "What do you mean?" "Oh, it just seems like a lot of people disappeared, and not all of them were killed, or ascended to heaven, or starved to death or whatever happened to everyone. Maybe a bunch of humans have gone dormant like the magical creatures did." "Huh," said Ross. They walked on in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. CHAPTER They set up camp that night in a small clearing. The path they were following was hardly a path at all. Sometimes, it seemed like a deer path, while at others, it seemed that there was nothing more than blank, untouched wilderness. Ross had had to use his dirk as a machete on several occasions, just so they could continue forward without diverting too far off their intended route. The map had proven quite useful, containing sufficient landmarks along their path that they needn't fear getting lost. Camp was quickly set up, and Ross set about making a small fire while Moon busied herself setting up an alarm perimeter again. As long as they were both busy, they didn't dwell on what might stand before them. After the initial disappointment that they didn't have Gerrard, Ross had honestly been hoping that the elves would take pity on them and give them a magical sword or something, but his logical mind realized that this was wishful thinking. It might happen that way in grandiose fantasy novels, but this was the real world, albeit a real world he could never have imagined 9 years ago. [left off here] Instead, the elves had given them a small amount of information, a decidedly non-magical map, and some unidentifiable food. It could have been worse, though Ross to himself, as he cut the vegetable-sausage into slices on each of their plates. At least they were friendly, and didn't simply kill the humans on sight. He realized, as he thought back on the encounter, that that had been a distinct possibility, although he doubted Straigharrow would have sent them into danger so blithely. Moon returned from her tripwire duties, and sat down next to Ross, on a convenient fallen log. Hawkeye settled off to their side, content with the field mouse he'd caught earlier. Moon accepted the plate silently. After a moment of staring at the unfamiliar substance, she said, "How do you suppose it's supposed to be eaten?" Ross looked at her through the gathering darkness. "I was just wondering the same thing. It looks like it'd be good with soy sauce." He lifted one of the slices to his mouth, and gave it an experimental nibble. "Hmm!" he said after a moment, and took a bigger bite. Encouraged by this, Moon tried hers. It had the flavor of at least a half-dozen vegetables, but all tasted as if they'd just been harvested within the last few hours. Tomato, spinach, potato, cucumber and radish all came through clearly, with a number of less prominent flavors mixed in. It was delicious. Ross and Moon both devoured their portions quickly. "How did they do that?" wondered Moon aloud. "I've never tasted anything like it!" "Can you preserve food with magic?" Ross found himself eyeing the remaining vegetable sausage, and had to strongly remind himself that they couldn't afford to be greedy. "I don't know," said Moon, looking wonderingly over at Ross. "You know, I'd never even considered that. I suppose you could." She sat, thoughtfully staring into space. "I'll have to give that a try if we have some spare squash or potatoes this year." "If it can mimic this, that would be amazing. It has to be possible. Either that, or the elves just made this by boiling down essence of crack into this stuff." Ross smiled, remembering the phrase, "are you smoking crack?" which he hadn't thought of in years. Moon sobered, and looked at Ross. "I suppose they could have used some ingredient we don't know about. Do elves eat the same things people do?" She looked down at her plate, suddenly aware of the implications of eating another race's food. She decided that the queasy feeling in her stomach was mental rather than the fault of any food. "Yes, I would think so. Although keep in mind that the Japanese used to eat things that would turn the stomach of a Westerner. Humans and elves are obviously closely related, one way or another." Ross wasn't sure whether he was reassuring Moon or himself more. "I'm sure we'll be fine." "Right, of course," said Moon, trying to calm herself down. The thought of poisoning themselves while on a rescue mission was both terrifying and laughable. "Anyway, we've eaten it. We'll see how we feel in the morning. If it doesn't agree with us, we'll just have to look for food as we walk. There must be edible plants up here, and maybe I can spot something with a bit more target area than a squirrel." Ross chuckled at the memory of the grey squirrel tearing off up the tree after he'd missed it, and his arrow catching tangentially on the bark of the tree, spinning off into the woods. "Mmm," said Moon, agreeing. "Why don't we try to get to sleep early tonight. I'm tired, and it seems like we can't get a full night's sleep." "Good idea," said Ross, standing up. As he stood, Hawkeye got up, walking over to his feet. "Bed time," he said to the dog, who padded over to the tent and waited patiently. They got themselves set up in the tent, with the door flap partly open. As they lay in the tent, Ross found himself thinking about the nature of magic again. It was a topic that fascinated him, but it was fascinating in the same way a scab was fascinating -- he kept picking at it, trying to wrap his mind around the subject when it had long ago become obvious that he couldn't do it. He'd broached the subject with Moon before, but she insisted that she didn't really understand it, she just did it, much like a person who rides a bike doesn't need to understand the physics of friction or gyroscopic precession. "How do you do magic?" Ross spoke almost without realizing he'd said anything. "What?" Moon rolled over to look at him. "Oh. I mean, what do you do when you cast a spell, like when you set up that tripwire out there?" Moon was silent as she pondered the question. "Well," she said eventually, "it's like I have these simple things I can do: set up a trigger, or make a light, or whatever like that. It's kind of like construction," she remembered watching her father build a shed when she was young. "You have 2x4s, and nails, and plywood. They're simple things, but when you put them together in certain ways, you can get strong structures, or you can make a mess and smash your thumb. I kind of do the same thing with magic. It's not exactly like that, because everything affects everything else. Does that make any sense?" "I guess so. I wish I knew what procedure you followed, inside your brain." "Yeah, I can't help you with that one. I just do it, and it works. Even if we had words to describe it, I don't think they'd make any sense unless you'd done it yourself." Ross, musing on his own line of thought, said jokingly, "We should start a college. You could teach magic, and I could teach chemistry or physics or something." Moon made a gentle raspberry sound. "I just told you, I don't have any idea how I do what I do. How could I teach it?" "True. Never mind. Good night, Moon. Hopefully we'll get all the way through the night this time." "Good night, Ross. I would dearly love eight uninterrupted hours of sleep, so let's hope." She rolled over again, and the sounds of the forest gently filled the tent. CHAPTER Ross creeped along a corridor. There were three other people with him, who were friends. They creeped with him. The corridor was made of stone, cold and damp. The floor was dirty, and crunched slightly under his feet, as if it were made up of very fine gravel over a stone floor. The corridor just kept going, but he continued to creep, unable to move any faster for fear of alerting it that he was there. His friends creeped too. On and on, down the never-ending corridor. The tension was rising in Ross, his face flushing with nervousness and anxiety. Crunch, crunch. Ross's footsteps echoed loudly in his ears, always afraid it would hear them. It was very important to keep from alerting it that they were there. "Where are we going?" Ross turned to see Moon. She was tall and willowy, with bright white hair and pointed ears. He motioned for her to be quiet. Didn't she understand? Quiet! On he crept, his friends moving quietly behind him. He felt for his dirk, but it wasn't there. It was too late now, he'd just have to go on without it. "Where are we going?" Moon repeated the question louder. Ross put his finger to his lips and make a faint, "Sssh" noise. Moon didn't seem to notice. Ross realized that she wasn't walking, but was keeping up with them somehow. She was floating above the ground. "You're not going fast enough. I could have been there by now." Moon floated forward faster than Ross could creep. He wanted to reach out and stop her, but she was out of reach, and receding fast. He couldn't move faster, or he'd alert it that they were there. He felt like tearing out his hair, beating against the wall, but he had to keep creeping. He gritted his teeth, and continued slowly forward. "I'm already there." Moon's voice sounded close, but he couldn't see her, far down the corridor. One of his friends made a "Sssh" motion, duplicating Ross's imprecation to be silent. Hawkeye started barking. Ross wanted to reach down and clamp the dog's mouth shut. Quiet! They had to be quiet! "Ross?" He was going as fast as he could. "Ross?" Moon's voice was maddeningly close, but she was nowhere to be seen, and Hawkeye would. not. shut. up. Ross reached desperately for the dog, but he skipped out of the way, barking furiously. "Ross!" The world exploded into loud noises and light! Ross sat up, the quiet urgency of the dream fading quickly into an unnamed, background sense of dread. He looked around him, his eyes refusing to focus properly. Hawkeye was still barking madly, and Moon was looking at him, her eyes showing anxiety on the verge of fear. Why could he see? What was that racket? "We have visitors again," whispered Moon urgently to Ross, trying to coax him to action. He grunted, and reached for the dirk, his mind finally coming to grips with where he was and what was happening. He fairly leapt out of the tent, the dirk's blade gleaming dully in the odd magical light. "Who's out there!?" he cried, following the sound of Hawkeye's barking. The dog was out of sight, beyond the tripwire boundary. Ross moved cautiously toward the sound, picking his way over the uncertain ground as quickly as he could. "Show yourself!" he called out. Hawkeye's barks were getting closer as Ross moved. The dog must have stopped moving. Ross scarcely noticed as the scene brightened, another light orb hanging over his head. Stumbling once over a rotting log, he caught up to the beagle, who was standing rigidly at the bottom of a tree, looking up, and barking. Ross looked up the tree, but couldn't see anything. It was a cedar, with drooping branches. He thought he saw a branch move, but couldn't be sure. So, one stalker treed by a dog and a human, lightly armed. If this were the same being or beings, it was probably armed with a bow. Ross wondered what he was supposed to do now. Shimmying up a tree was not, in his book, very threatening behavior, but he still felt himself shaking with rage at all the stress this was causing him. "What do you want!? Come down, and just tell me!" Ross shouted the words without really knowing what he was going to say. He was frustrated and tired and scared. The last thing he needed was to have another sleepless night and a confrontation with a nocturnal stalker who only left them alone when they were in the company of hundreds of elves. He angrily thrust the dirk back into its sheath, and shoved the sheath into the waistband of his knee-length skivvies. "Look, I put the knife away! Come down, I'll call off the dog! Why are you following us!?" Ross looked down at Hawkeye, and said, "That's enough, c'mere." Reluctantly, Hawkeye came away from the tree and to Ross's side, still glancing back at the cedar and its presumed contents with his lips pulled back in a snarl. Ross waited, wondering if there were really anyone up there. Even if there were, what would stop them from coming down and simply running off? Ross was in no position to chase anyone right now, stalking along on bare feet. After a minute or so of deafening silence, Ross started to hear activity from the tree. Maybe there really was someone up there. A crackling, scraping noise terminated in a thump, and Ross found himself looking at a little man. Well, sort of a man -- he had the legs of a goat, with the knees turned backward and everything. He was naked except for a little bow and quiver of arrows. His hair was ragged and dirty, and he had pointed ears, although they were covered in fur, like a goat's. The little goat man stared angrily at Ross. He must have stood three and a half feet tall, at the most. Suddenly, he pointed an accusing finger at Ross. "You're not supposed to be here!" He had a strange accent, like a mixture of Scottish and Pakistani, and a lateral lisp. "This isn't your place!" Ross wondered if they'd accidentally violated someone's territory -- the path they were following was pretty much never used, and he supposed the elves could have accidentally or intentionally routed them in such a way as to get them in trouble. "What do you mean? Are we trespassing?" He resisted the urge to fall upon the little goat man with his fists, as frustration and anger mounted in him. He tried to remain externally calm. "You're... You're not allowed here!" The accusing finger was still raised, but the goat man was quivering, as if he were afraid, or in an ecstasy of rage. "You said that before," said Ross, with exaggerated calm. "Why are we not allowed here?" He felt very large next to the little creature. But the goat man appeared to have run out of words. He just quivered more violently, suddenly dropping his arm part way before lowering it completely. He looked down at the dog, and back up to Ross, who felt he was being extremely patient in the circumstances. "Why are we not allowed here? Why are you following us? Just to tell us we're not allowed?" Suddenly, the little goat man turned, and dashed off into the dark forest. Ross cursed under his breath and jerked forward as if to give chase, but immediately backed down. Hawkeye whined, as if longing to pursue their small stalker, but he seemed to understand that the confrontation was over for tonight. Ross walked slowly back to the tent, with the beagle at his side. Hawkeye occasionally looked back over his shoulder and gave little half-audible "Whuf!" barks, as if he were frustrated, too. "You wanted to bite him, didn't you," said Ross to the dog, half amused. He would have enjoyed seeing the little interloper put to a bit of pain, although he also realized that it wouldn't seem very funny afterwards. To Hawkeye, he said, "Well, I'm glad you didn't; it would just cause problems." Hawkeye just made another "Whuf!" noise. Ross wasn't sure whether the dog had understood or not. He climbed back into the tent after scratching Hawakeye behind the ears and patting his back. The dog settled outside the tent flap, turning several circles before finally lying down. "What was that? I heard you talking to someone," said Moon. She was sitting cross-legged, one of the pain grenades in her hand, although she unfolded herself and put away the little pouch as Ross climbed in. Lying down in his sleeping bag, Ross wearily recounted the events of the last few minutes. Moon was silent until he finished, then said, "I wonder what happened to the other two." Ross looked over at her, and said, "What other two?" "I sensed three that first night. My spell is still clouding things here, so I can't tell how many there were tonight. If it was the same creatures, it seems like they'd travel in the same little pack each night." "Hmm, yeah," said Ross sleepily. "Maybe the other two got away while Hawkeye was busy treeing the one I talked to." "That's prett likely," said Moon, although she didn't sound entirely convinced. She lay back down, and pushed Ross's hair back from his eyes, tenderly. The light from the orbs had faded out a few minutes ago. She leaned over and kissed Ross on the forehead before curling up in her sleeping bag and trying to go back to sleep. CHAPTER [they find the tower] Moon did not, in fact, really get back to sleep that night. Dawn broke gently, through a thin layer of clouds, and Moon welcomed the light. Ross woke up a half hour after the dawn, at Moon's gentle prodding. She wanted to let him sleep, but she also wanted to get moving to find their son, and was tremendously bored. He rolled over and smiled at her, still only somewhat awake. "Did I dream that we were bothered by a goat man last night," he said, rubbing his eyes, "or was that real?" "It was real. He told us we weren't allowed, and ran off. It almost sounded funny," said Moon, smiling at some combination of Ross's current muzzy-headedness and the image of a small half-goat, half-man accosting him last night. "I had very real dreams all night. I assume we weren't also running along in some dungeon, hang-gliding off a cliff, or playing chess with a sort of land-walking dolphin?" "Not that I noticed. Just the goat man." Moon slid out of her sleeping bag, and crawled out of the tent. "I'll get breakfast ready. We should get moving soon," she called back to Ross. Ross's head whumped back into the sack full of clothes he was using as a pillow. He really didn't want to get up: he just wanted to sleep for days. For all that they'd been actively farming for years now, this trip was proving to be very draining. At least on the farm, he could be reasonably certain he'd get a solid stretch of sleep. Even when Gerrard had been awake at all hours, though, he hadn't been this tired. Ross realized that their mission, to rescue an abducted child, must be much more wearying than he had imagined. It had seemed so simple: take the paperweight to the elves, get their son back. It was all just a simple misunderstanding in his imagination. Somehow, someone got confused, and a couple diplomatic words and the exchange of a gift would get their son back, and they could go back to the life he'd finally come to consider normal after the tremendous upheaval of the Change. Of course it couldn't be that easy. Nothing was ever that simple. He felt like raging and crying at the same time, but they seemed to be cancelling each other out, or blending together into a desire to sleep. And really, what would railing against fate accomplish? Nothing useful. Ross sighed, and crawled stiffly out of his sleeping bag. Standing up out of the tent, he went through a variety of stretches, trying to unknot his muscles. It helped, but he didn't figure he'd really be feeling better until he, Moon and Gerrard were back at their farm, and he could relax into his own bed. "Here," Moon had appeared at his side. He stood up from the stretch he was in. She handed him a plate with a modest pile of elvish food on it. He recognized the vegetable sausage, but hadn't seen the other two things on there. He looked questioningly at Moon. She smiled, and he realized that she was already chewing. Her mouth half-full, she said, "Try it. It's all good. This," she pointed at a grayish pile of stuff, "tastes like the best mushrooms I've ever had, with just a hint of salt and something else." She paused to swallow, then said, "This other stuff is spicy, but I can't identify it at all. I wish I knew how they did this." Ross chuckled, and said, "Maybe I can trade them some chemistry knowledge for some cooking secrets." He dug in, as he found that his restless night had left him hungry. It was all as delicious as promised. They packed up camp, and were on the trail about half an hour after breakfast. Ross was glad that Hawkeye seemed to be able to fend for himself, as the thought of also having to carry food for the dog was daunting. The sun was visible over the mountains as a bright spot in the thin clouds, which had formed into ripples, like sand on a beach. On the southern horizon, much thicker clouds loomed. "I wonder," said Ross, as they clambered over a fallen tree which was too low to go under, "if it's going to rain soon. Those clouds to the south look ominous." Moon looked, the next time they had a clear view to the south, and agreed. "We're in for some rain soon, I suspect." Faster than either of them expected, the clouds had rolled over the sky, obscuring the sun and plunging them into very early twilight. Such rapid weather wasn't unheard of, but was still unusual in these parts. Shortly after that, the rain started. Not anticipating the length of their journey properly, Ross had forgotten to pack jackets. The rain grew steadily more heavy until it was a light downpour. Ross and Moon were getting soaked, but their choice was either to keep moving, or to find a big tree to stand under. At this elevation, the trees were relatively sparse, with at least as much bare rock visible as trees and undergrowth. The lush rainforests of the lower elevations were behind them. The rain seemed to be trying to force the issue, as it suddenly started coming down harder than ever. With a yelp, Ross gave up, and leapt towards one of the enormous boulders that occasionally dotted this landscape. He stood in the lee of the boulder, and Moon joined him. Along with the rain, the wind had picked up, blowing from the south, which made the boulder more convenient than if there'd been no wind to give the rain direction. As they stood in the lee of the boulder, waiting for the rain to abate a little, Moon tapped Ross on the shoulder, and pointed. "Do you see that?" He followed her outstretched finger. "I don't see anything." "It's like a... tower, or something," she said. "Like something from a fairy tale, part of a castle. Don't you see it? Right next to that slope?" She traced the angle of the slope with her finger. "Oh! Yeah, I do see something there. It looks manmade. I wonder what it is?" Moon grinned mischeviously. "There's only one way to find out," she said, but she didn't move, as the rain seemed to have just increased yet further in intensity. "What, you want to go over there?" "Why not?" "What about Gerrard and the Kho'luc, or whatever they're called?" Her grin faded a bit at the mention of their son, but she said, "I can't just hike all day long. Let's just go over there and check it out real quick once the rain dies down a bit. It'll only take a few minutes. Wouldn't you enjoy seeing something other than trees and rocks for a little bit?" "Yeah, ok," said Ross, but his voice was full of reluctance. "But quick. I just want to get this sorted out and go home. I don't need mysterious buildings thrown in." They waited in silence until the rain suddenly calmed, and set out towards the structure. It was indeed only a few minutes from their boulder refuge, but as they got closer, it got more mysterious. The tower was much like something from a fairy tale: it was nearly 50 feet tall, a perfectly circular tower which looked out of place without castle walls to guard. It was topped by a conical roof, giving it the appearance of a stone rocket, set to launch into the heavens on an enormous pillar of flame. Adding to the mystery, it looked brand new, as if it had been constructed within the last year or two. The mortar was excellent and fresh. Ross might have understood some kook from before the Change building a tower up here to get away from it all, but to have been built this recently would have taken tremendous effort. Perhaps weirdest of all, there was no door. The tower was almost featureless for the first 20 feet, at which point windows started spiraling up the tower, possibly following an internal staircase. There was a set of windows near the top, facing approximately towards the four points of the compass. Ross couldn't tell if anyone was living in it or not. The surrounding ground was mostly stone, so there was no way to see paths worn by repetitive travel, although he also had no idea where a person living out here would habitually go. Ross found himself whispering as he spoke to Moon. "Do you suppose anyone lives here?" She whispered back, "How could anyone not? It's too new. Who would build this and then not use it?" Hawkeye had followed them around, sniffing around the base of the tower as if considering it the world's largest fire plug. Ross crouched down, and motioned to Hawkeye, saying "Here boy, any exciting scents?" The little beagle trotted over, and seemed to be perfectly content to be around the tower. Ross had learned over the years since the Change to trust his dog's opinion on this kind of thing. Ross looked up at Moon, and said, "Well, Hawkeye doesn't think it's too creepy here." His voice was a bit louder now, the need to whisper seeming less intense. He stood up again, and found his curiousity warring with his urge to keep going. The rain had tapered off, and was now nothing more than a gentle mist falling around them. "I wonder why there's no door," said Moon. She was studying the lowest window, and stepped back to get a shallower look into it. As she was studying it, Ross also backed up to look at the tower from a wider perspective. "Maybe whoever lives here flies in. That's how I'd build a house if I could fly in." He glanced over at Moon. "Can you fly?" "I've never tried without a broom. I can lift things with effort, maybe I could try to lift the ground away from me, or something." "Could you lift me?" Ross realized that he'd never really explored the extent of his wife's powers. In part, he didn't think about magic as much as he did about the more mundane concerns of life, and in part because she didn't make a big deal out of it. She looked appraisingly at him. "Probably not," she said. "I've never lifted more than a few pounds by magic. It's too much work, when I can just pick it up with my hands. Anyway, are you suggesting we should go inside?" "No," said Ross, looking down, "not exactly. I was just thinking about how you'd do it." All of a sudden, there was a tremendous bang, and a voice cried out, "What the devil is all this racket!" Ross jumped, and stumbled as he landed, coming down awkwardly to a sitting position on the rocky ground. Moon started and crouched as if about to sprint away. Hawkeye looked placidly upward. Ross looked up, and saw what looked for all the world like a medieval wizard leaning out of a window near the top of the tower. His face was bright red, which was an unfortunately look next to his purple robes. The robes were covered in little yellow objects, which Ross suspected would resolve at a closer distance into stars and moons. Moon recovered first, and dipped into a semblance of a curtsy, although she was wearing breeches and not a skirt. "Greetings," she said up to the man in the window. "My name is Moon Shadow, and this is my husband Ross Hansen. And this," she pointed down to the dog, "is our dog Hawkeye." She waited, looking up. The man's face grew red again, and finally he said, "My name is Stephen Gould. No, before you ask, not *the* Stephen Gould. Now, what are you doing here?" "I apologize, sir," said Moon, dipping into a little curtsy again. "We didn't realize the tower was occupied. We were just surprised to see it here, and came over to check it out." "Well," said Stephen Gould, "you've seen it. Now leave me alone!" He leaned back in, and made as if to slam the shutter closed again, but stopped the motion halfway through. "What are you doing out here?" He leaned back out and looked curiously down at them, his face calmer. Ross stood again, stumbling a bit as his left ankle made itself known after the initial fall. "We're... well, I guess we're on a quest. We're trying to rescue our son." "A quest!?" Ross could see the older man's eyebrows raise even at this distance. "How noble! I hadn't heard that quests were back quite yet, but I suppose it's about time." Relenting from his earlier irritation, the man in the tower seemed to have had a change of heart. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm being a terrible host. Would you like to come up and have a cup of tea?" CHAPTER They were sitting around the upper room of the tower. Stephen Gould, it turned out, was indeed a magician. However, rather than the levitation Ross had been (he realized) eagerly looking forward to, a rope ladder had been kicked out the lowest window, and they climbed up. The little room, only about 15 feet across and perfectly circular, was sparsely appointed, with a little table, a couple of rough-hewn chairs, and a stack of books on a makeshift shelf. There was also a little cooking area on the next floor down, with a few salvaged plates, pots, pans, cups, and silverware. He had a surprisingly mundane plastic wash basin as his sink. They hadn't seen what was below the bottom window. He'd given each of them tea, which was surprisingly hot, poured out of a kettle heated on a fire Ross hadn't expected. It was on the next level down, enclosed in a small woodstove with "Lopi" marked on the front. The fire was sufficiently hot that it produced no smoke, which is why neither of them had seen it from the ground. After accepting their tea, Moon looked at Stephen, and said, "So, who is *the* Stephen Gould?" Ross and Stephen both spoke up at the same moment, but Ross stopped, allowing their host to explain. Stephen said, "Stephen J. Gould was a famous physicist. Well, I suppose he probably still is, although I haven't had much world news lately. Most people I introduce myself to immediately ask if I'm him, so I just answer the question in advance now." He mused for a moment, then said, "Although it's been a while since I've had to introduce myself to anyone, which brings me to my question for you: what are you doing here? You're on a quest?" He peered from one to the other of them. Ross looked at Moon, then said, "Our son was kidnapped by what we now suspect were rogue elves about five days ago. On the advice of one of our Elders, we went to see Baron Nunish, who lives, what, must be a day and a half north of here. Based on our descriptions of the event and the elves, he said it sounded like a band called the Koh'loc, or something like that, and he gave us a map of where they live. Well, at least a map to where they're based, it sounds like they rove around a fair amount. We're on our way there now, to try to get our son back." Ross found the recitation of their mission was almost becoming rote, although he'd only told three people so far. "Hmm," said Stephen, looking into his mug. It was dark blue, and had the word "Boeing" emblazoned across it in a wide, white font. "I've heard of the Koh'loc," he said after a moment. "They're not a nice group of elves to tangle with." "How do you know them?" Ross found himself quite curious about the story of this apparently solitary, mid-50s aged man, living in a tall tower in the middle of nowhere, dressed in a wizard's costume. Stephen sighed. "I only know of them by story, fortunately. On market days, I've heard people talking about them--" "Market days?" cut in Moon, incredulously. "How could you possibly get to a market day from here?" He fixed her with a curious look, and said, "By walking? I can walk, you know." His tone was sarcastic. "But, it must be a week-long walk from here to the nearest marketplace." "Well, as it happens, I fly there, if you must know. That's my broom," he nodded his head, and Ross became aware of a very traditional-looking round-bristle broom leaning against the wall. "How do you avoid the dragons, then?" Moon was on the scent of falsehood, and was trying to ferret it out without being too rude. Stephen sighed again, and rolled his eyes. "I've discovered a combination of herbs and minerals, which, when cooked up appropriately, ward off dragons. My guess is that I smell like something very distasteful to them, although I couldn't guess what. I haven't had a problem since I found that." "I can't imagine the process of finding the right combination was pleasant," said Moon, almost to herself. "It wasn't that bad -- fortunately, I had help from the elves. As I'm sure you experienced when you were there, they do wonderful things with food, and they know a thing or two about dragons." "Oh," said Moon, feeling a little bit ashamed that she'd been so openly distrustful. [continue, bio of stephen, more conversation] "Anyway," said Ross, interjecting, "how did you come to be here, Stephen? We were really surprised to find a dwelling out here at all, much less a 50 foot stone tower." "Oh, well," Stephen leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "It's a long story, but I'll give you the short version. When I was a kid, I was absolutely convinced magic was real, and I ended up reading anything I could about it. I read fiction, biographies, history, journals, anything. I ended up reading a lot of fantasy novels, but also a lot of non-fiction, or however you want to describe the books that purported to tell 'real' facts and information about magic. This was all before I was about 13, so I was much better-read than the other kids by the time I got to middle school, but only in this specific area. My parents sort of encouraged it -- they liked that I was so keen on reading, but they weren't that comfortable with the subject. "Naturally, as middle school ramped up, I was the lowest of the nerds. I talked about magic like it was real, which made me not only a nerd like your average math nerd, but deluded as well. I grew up in Alabama, which was smack in the middle of the bible belt, as you probably know. My parents weren't too religious, but everyone at school was. With all that, you can imagine how much of an outcast I was." Stephen's face was wistful as he relived the memories of what must have been a very difficult period of his life. Ross said, "Yeah, I was sort of the same way, but I was just an ordinary nerd." "Oh?" Stephen raised an eyebrow. "What was your area of nerdery?" "Oh, just general. I was socially awkward and good at math and science. I went on to study science, eventually getting a doctorate in DNA sequencing. Fat lot of good that does me now, of course." Ross smiled. He'd gotten over any unhappiness about that long ago. "Impressive," said Stephen, nodding appreciatively. "In any case," he said, resuming his story, "I followed the path of a lot of other nerds, retreating into myself. I was lucky, and in high school, we had access to a mainframe through a deal with the local college. It was just a 300 baud dial in line, but it was enough. I got hooked on computers, and forgot about magic. Well, I didn't forget it, but I dropped it as an active interest. Computers were amazing, and they worked, unlike all the magic I'd tried along the way. "So, after college, I got a job with an up-and-coming company you may have heard of: Microsoft. Of course, I managed to completely mis-manage my money, and didn't get rich like a lot of early folks there. I ended up working at Microsoft until the Change disrupted all the electronics. By the end, I was a technical lead in charge of 50 people, while also programming in C# most days. It was sort of like heaven, with all the cash I could squander on fast cars and ridiculous toys, plus computers were still fascinating for me. "When the Change came, computers were of course out of the question. I survived the following War by hiding a lot. I also saw the coming collapse of society, and hoarded some books and other stuff. Of course it was obvious immediately to me that magic had returned, and my previous interest flooded back." "But, how did you get out here?" Moon looked at him quizzically, her previous distrust forgotten. "I greatly admired the academics who studied magic, alchemy, and related fields. People like Newton, Dee, even mythical figures like Merlin. I wanted to be just like them. After the War was over, I started walking towards the mountains, with a wheelbarrow full of books and my few possessions. I basically kept walking until I found a likely spot. I... do you know what ley lines are?" Stephen looked at Moon, having either sensed or intuited that she was magically adept. "No. What's a ley line?" "Basically, they're lines of magical force. They're sort of like the magical equivalent of fault lines, or magnetic poles. You are a magician, correct?" "Yeah... how did you know?" "The same way one nerd knows another nerd. There's just something about you. Well, except now, that sense is probably augmented by actual magic, of course." He smiled, then continued, "I had read everything I could find about magic, as I said, and one of the subjects that came up was ley lines. Many of the Hermetic scholars believed that placing their laboratories at the intersection of ley lines would give them extra power for their work. You can probably see where this is leading: we're sitting at the intersection of not two, but three ley lines. There are two ground lines crossing, one about east to west, the other running northwest to southeast, plus there's a north to south air line over us. This is a location of tremendous magical power." "How do you know they're here?" Moon had an odd look on her face, as if she were trying to sense the invisible lines. "You can actually sense them," he responded, correctly interpreting her expression of concentration. "You know the feeling you get when you're gathering power for a spell? Concentrate on that feeling, but instead of directing it into action or an external effect, direct it into sensing. See with your mind, and look for glowing lines." He paused while Moon closed her eyes. "Oh!" she exclaimed all of a sudden. "They're huge!" Stephen grinned a lopsided grin. "Right. So you can imagine how this would be an interesting location for me. Nunish and his elves, if you'd checked there, are sitting on the crossing of four lines. Anyway, that's why here." "So, did you build this tower with magic?" It was Ross this time, who'd been running through the construction process of their modest house in his head: it had taken the two of them almost a year of solid work to gather rocks, lay them out, fit them, and end up with a semi-circular house 30 feet across, with 5 foot tall walls. Most of the height of their house was in the roof. Add mortar into the mix, and five times the height (although a smaller circumference), and this would have been an eight year task for a single man. "Yes, after a fashion." Stephen chuckled. "Although any visions you have of stones flying through the air and mortar trowels magically slopping mortar around are far too grandiose. What you actually would have seen is me working for months at a time without sleeping, and lifting more than I should reasonably have been able to lift. I used magic to prop me up as I worked, and expended some magical energy to help with lifting and finding appropriate stones." Moon looked like she wanted to slap her forehead. "That's a great idea. I wish I'd thought of that as we were building our house." "Well, now you know, so building the barn should be easier, right?" Stephen smiled again, his grey beard fanning out. "If you're lucky, your house will be near a ley line or two. How hard is it to do magic there?" "I never thought it was hard, but I can already tell it would be way easier here." "It's not so much about how easy it is," said Stephen, adopting the air of one who is imparting great wisdom, "but about how much energy you have to take from yourself versus how much you can get from the world around you. With ley lines available, it's very easy to tap into that external source of power, and without them it pretty much all has to come from you." "Oh, I guess that makes sense," said Moon, flashing back to college, as professor Johnson had tried to explain physics to her. "In any case, I built the tower in about six months, which included no sleep, and very little food. I sustained myself with magic, but the price I ended up paying was heavy: for months afterwards, I didn't know who I was. Any psychiatrist would have locked me up, I'm sure. I'm not actually sure how I survived that. Much of that time is missing from my memory, but what's there is surreal. "That was about two years ago. I spent a couple years living here in a series of improvised huts and shacks until I came to understand through study how I could build my tower." He smiled a bit sheepishly, and said, "It's something of an ego thing. I'd read so many stories of wizards living in their towers, I wanted to do that too. When I realized I could, I set about it just as single-mindedly as I'd read books as a kid." Stephen paused, apparently lost in memory. "What do you do here now?" asked Ross. He realized his tea was cold, and set it down next to him on the floor. "I study," said Stephen immediately. I'm following in the path of my heroes from history. I've been studying magic the whole time I've been here. With the books I have here, and some of the equipment I salvaged over the last few years, I've been able to start learning some of the fundamentals about how magic really works. It's very exciting: where Newton was studying alchemy in a world when science would ultimately rule, I'm studying magic in a world where magic is definitely the dominant force." Ross resisted an urge to ask him how he was doing his experiments. Ross's own experiments years ago had been dismal failures, and he was quite curious to know what he'd been doing wrong. However, he realized that they must have been sitting and talking with this man in a wizard's robe for over an hour. Stephen must have noticed the change in Ross's face. "I've kept you a long time, I apologize. I didn't settle here because I dislike people, so it's a rare treat to have visitors. I'm also very sorry I yelled at you earlier: I was in the middle of a particularly taxing problem, and the last thing I needed was a distraction. However, I'm quite glad you were willing to stick around." Moon had also picked up on the change, and glanced out the window, which was hanging open now that the rain had ceased. "Jeez," she said. "How long have we been sitting here? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but we were hoping to make it at least 15 miles today. We really shouldn't be sitting around, although this is fascinating. I've already learned a ton, and I'd love to come back when I don't have such pressing business." "I totally understand. Like I said, I'm pleased to have had the company." Stephen stood, and Ross and Moon stood as well. "Listen," he said, sounding uncertain all of a sudden. "I've got a... well, I guess it's an amulet, but I put a powerful protective charm on it. It's done me very well, but you need it more than I do, and I can make another one, probably better. I'd be pleased to think I could help you on your quest, although I think you'd find me more of a hindrance than a help if I actually came with you. Hold on." He walked down the stairs which spiraled down to the next level. Ross and Moon looked at each other, but didn't follow him down. He returned a minute later, after some clanking below them. He held in his hand a small brass pendant on a chain. It had celtic designs stamped or etched into it. He handed it to Moon, and said, "It'll work for either one of you, but you should be able to magnify the effects if you concentrate on directing power into it. It won't help you against a boulder falling on you, but it will help in any interactions with living creatures; it acts on their minds, so that they like you better, or at least dislike you less. The more like humans they are, the more effective it is, so don't think this is your pass to waltz into a dragon's den and take away some of his treasure. Stick together. I know it works for one person, but I don't know if it will work for both of you with any distance between you. If you were touching, that'd be even better." He smiled lopsidedly again. "Thank you!" said Moon, taking the little pendant. It was slightly amulet-like, although it was too small to really be an amulet. She suspected it was simply a trinket he'd charmed, but any help was welcome. She concentrated on it, and felt that there was indeed powerful magic on it, which was shaped roughly like he'd described. "You're welcome. I hope it's helpful. It should work fairly well on the Kho'luc, I think. I haven't tried it on people who were actively malevolent, but at least they're very nearly human." They shook hands at the bottom window, as Stephen kicked the rope ladder out the window again. "Feel free to stop by again. If you have questions, you may be able to reach me by mirror. Do you have a mirror or something with you? You know about scrying?" When they'd said they didn't have a mirror with them, he had huffed back up the stairs and returned a moment later with a square of metal which had been polished to a high shine. "It's a survival mirror from an outdoor kit, but it's unbreakable, and will work as well as a glass mirror or crystal ball. It sounds like you've had plenty of practice." They climbed down the ladder, having made their thanks and goodbyes. Moon was excited about the encounter, and talked for the next two hours about what she'd learned even in that short time without any formal instruction, and how she wanted to go back and talk more with him. Ross agreed, although the magic descriptions were lost on him, and he'd spent part of their time there suddenly understanding the boredom his mother had felt when his dad had engaged him in talk of computers. By the time sunset arrived, they'd made it most of the way to their intended stopping point, making up somewhat for the social visit as the landscape became easier to traverse. By the time it was fully dark, they had set up camp, and were already trying to get to sleep. CHAPTER That night was the first uninterrupted sleep they'd had on their own. Hawkeye didn't bark once, the tripwire didn't go off. Ross almost felt jittery in the morning as he regained consciousness, wondering what had scared off their tormentors. He rolled over and looked at Moon, who was half-smiling to herself in her sleep. Rather than disturbing her, he got up and walked a ways off to take care of his morning ablutions, accidentally tripping the tripwire on his way. The fireworks banged and sizzled, and although the day was too bright to see it, he was sure there was a light orb hovering over the campsite. He looked back to see Moon staring at him from the tent, a sleepy but worried look on her face. He waved sheepishly. "Sorry," he called. "I forgot about the spell." Her face relaxed as she realized what had happened. She laughed and ducked back into the tent. They were quickly packed up and back on the trail. By Ross's reckoning, they would be able to get to within 5 miles of the Kho'loc base tonight. Their elven food was holding out despite the greedy glances it received every time they ate. Moon had even tried feeding a bit of the mushroom loaf to Hawkeye, which he had dutifully eaten, but she didn't get the impression he particularly cared for it. He seemed to be doing pretty well for himself in any case, occasionally darting off the trail, and coming back with a smug, satisfied gait about every fifth time. They hadn't been on the trail for more than 20 minutes when Hawkeye started acting strangely. He would freeze, staring ahead of them, then dart forward, only to freeze again. Occasionally he'd growl deep in his throat, and seemed to be on the verge of barking. Normally, barking was reserved for either having fun, such as when chasing a bird, or joining in with excitement when the humans were celebrating. They stopped walking, and Hawkeye stopped with them, standing rigid in front of them and making that low growl. Ross looked at Moon with a questioning expression. She shrugged. "Can you sense anything odd ahead?" he asked. Moon closed her eyes and concentrated. Suddenly, she got a look on her face as though she'd just drank sour milk. Her eyes popped open, and the look of disgust changed to one of fear as she looked at Ross. "It's the same feeling as when Gerrard was taken. I think they're coming this way." She spoke quietly but with such intensity that Ross was taken aback. She seemed to be fighting back tears, although Ross wouldn't have been willin to bet whether they were of fear or rage. "Quick," he said, "off the trail. Um..." He looked around them. They'd descended a bit, and were now in denser forest, with more trees and fewer rocks. His heart had started beating fast, and he realized he was starting to panic. "Ok, let's head that way," he pointed roughly east, off their southward path, "I think I can see a snag back there that we can hide behind. They launched off the meager path and cut through the woods. The trees weren't thick enough here to provide the all-encompassing darkness of the lowland forests, and so their path was greatly impeded by the underbrush, and Ross found himself grimacing at how much noise they must be making. They made it to the snag, and dropped behind it. It was actually the upended roots of a fallen tree, which provided excellent cover, but was impossible to see through. Motioning Moon and Hawkeye to be quiet, he unslung his bow from his pack, and tied the quiver of arrows to his belt. He stepped through the bow and pulled the string tight, letting it take up the pressure with a faint whumm noise. He drew and nocked an arrow, peering around the north side of the rootball, toward the south. Time passed very slowly. Counting his heartbeats, Ross guessed that they'd been waiting nearly 10 very long minutes when his attention was drawn to Hawkeye. The dog had stiffened, and let out a single, unvoiced "wuff" of a bark, looking to the south. Ross readied his bow. In the distance, he could see figures approaching. He whispered down to Moon, "Quiet. There are some people coming. I can't see how they're dressed yet. Do you get anything off them?" After a moment of concentration, her back to the upended roots, she said, "Same thing. I think they're the elves who took Gerrard." "I wish I had my binoculars," said Ross, remembering the nice optics he'd hidden away at the house. He knew it was only a few days ago, but their departure from the house already seemed like it was weeks in the past. The figures drew nearer. They didn't seem particularly evil, although Ross wasn't sure how you judged evil at a distance. They didn't slink along, or cast sideways glances or anything. As they got closer, Ross could make out that there were three of them, all about equal height, definitely leaning towards elves, judging by their build, but they were too far to make out any details. The trio slowly hiked past in silence. Hawkeye had come in front of the tree, and was walking slowly towards the trail, one stiff-legged step at a time, his lips curled back in a snarl. Ross thought they had made it, when the dog suddenly leapt forward, barking up a storm. He dashed towards the people on the trail, who had spun around to look for the source of the noise. Two bows and a sword had appeared with astonishing speed. Finally deciding seconds later, Ross lit out after the dog, crashing through the underbrush, bow clenched in his left hand with the arrow still nocked. Moon wasn't about to be left behind, and yelped when she saw Ross take off. She quickly got up and followed, fumbling for a pain bomb as she went. The little dog had crossed the hundred yards to the trail with amazing speed, apparently unhindered by the dense vegetation. The trio of hikers was looking from the dog to Ross, unsure whether either creature was friend or foe. Hawkeye stopped about 10 feet in front of the three, staring at them in sudden silence. Ross's crashing went on for another 10 seconds before he caught up with the dog, and came to a stop another dozen feet back. The trio, definitely elves, stared silently at Ross as he stopped. Their weapons were held casually, but clearly ready to engage at a moment's notice. The elf on the right finally broke the silence. "What is the meaning of this," he said, although his voice held no hint of belligerence. His bow was still aimed at the ground, but he was ready to fire, and Ross had a feeling his marksmanship would be excellent. Ross refrained from answering as Moon crashed toward them. When she stopped, somewhat breathless, at his side, Ross said, "I apologize, our dog started acting as if there were a threat ahead of us. Have you come past any dangerous creatures?" The elf who'd spoken smiled slyly, and relaxed his stance a bit. His companions followed suit. He said, "No. We are probably the most dangerous things in the forest right now," the way he said it, the Elf seemed to be including Ross and Moon in that description. "If that's all, we'll be on our way. Travel safely, humans." He dropped the arrow into his back quiver and reversed the elaborately recurved bow so it's string was toward the ground. The lead elf nodded, and the other two followed suit, before they all turned and continued on their way. Ross stared somewhat incredulously as the retreating figures, before turning to his wife, whose face was white. "That was them," she whispered. CHAPTER They had beat a hasty path to the south to put some distance between the elves and themselves. Every once in a while, Hawkeye would glance behind them and snarl, but he seemed to be checking to see that they weren't being followed, rather than indicating any danger. After another 20 minutes of walking, they found a little clearing and stopped. They'd been away from their last campsite for less than an hour, but the day seemed half over. As soon as she dropped her pack, Moon started crying, silently at first, but quickly escalating to gentle sobs. Ross rushed to comfort her, enfolding her in his arms. He kissed the top of her head, and said, "What is it?" after she'd calmed a bit. "I don't know what we're going to do!" She buried her face in his chest, her breath coming in quick gasps. "We've come all this way, and we're almost to this place with these elves who took our son, and once we get there, what are we going to do? Make bad faces at them? Kill them all? Demand Gerrard back? What if they don't have him? Oh Ross, what if he's not there!?" He smoothed her hair, and rocked gently back and forth. The sun shone down on them as it rose above the trees, and the faint wind carried pleasant scents toward them from late-blooming wildflowers. Ross murmured gently to her, but found that he didn't have any encouraging words to say. Finally, he said, "I don't know. I've just been trying to get there. I thought a plan would come to me when we saw what we were up against, but we just saw it, and the best we could do was turn around and run away." Ross pulled Moon gently away from him, and looked her in the face. "Moon," he said, "we'll have to do whatever we'll have to do. I'm sorry I don't have a better plan than that. Let's sit down and talk about it." So they sat, cross-legged in the grass, with Hawkeye eventually lying down between them. "What do we know so far?" Ross looked at Moon as he spoke. "What do you mean? They took Gerrard, that's what we know." "I know, I just meant... This is a brainstorming exercise. Let's list everything we know about the situation." Moon frowned, then said, "Ok. Well, I know four elves took Gerrard, and I'd be willing to swear that we just passed three of them. Nunish said they're called the Koh'loc, and the consensus between him and Mr. Gould seems to be that they're not good people. We... just saw three of them up close, and they were civil to us, and didn't seem any more evil or haughty than Nunish's elves, but that might be because of the amulet." Ross said, "Ah yes, I'd already forgotten about that. You know, it's funny, I was lameting to myself after we left Nunish that they hadn't given us some magical thingy to help us along the way, and then Stephen Gould hands us a magical thingy out of the blue. Maybe I should wish for something else." He smiled as he imagined wishing for a Ferrari or a Lear Jet. "It's no joke. I've been wishing and praying for Gerrard to come back to us, but wishing for something is only half of it -- you have to go do it, too." She paused, and scowled. "Listen to me, I sound like I'm giving advice to a milkmaid about pursuing a handsome young farm hand. Alright. What else do we know?" Ross considered. "Well, we have a map of their theoretical location, and we know it's in a valley, at the base of a little waterfall. We know that Hawkeye doesn't like them, at least the three we met. Are you sure that you recognized all three of them?" "No," Moon said slowly. "I'm pretty sure about one of them, the one in the middle, but I'm not as sure of the other two. The one who spoke seemed familiar, but elves all seem to look alike so far. They were dressed the same, though. They didn't say anything when they took Gerrard, so I don't know what their voices sounded like." "But you got the same magical sense off them? Are you sure of that?" "No, not positive. It felt the same as when they took Gerrard, but I didn't really search until after they'd disappeared then. What I was really sensing then was the impressions left over, not the actual people." "Well, between your sense, and Hawkeye's reaction," the dog looked up at the mention of his name, looking back and forth between the two humans without raising his head off his paws, "it seems likely that they're the same. Will you know those three if we meet them again?" "Probably," replied Moon, considering. "Most people have a distinctive magical sense, like a smell, but a lot of them are very similar. Those three had a sort of tinge I'd only sensed before when Gerrard was taken." "Well, ok," said Ross, considering. "So we've had our first brush with the enemy, and they didn't seem to be out to get us. You can probably identify them again, and they didn't seem offended, so we may be able to argue logically with them once we finally get to their base." "Where does that leave us?" Moon's face was drawn, unable to see how this exercise had been any help. "Well, at least we know they won't simply attack us on sight. Whether that's because of the amulet or not, it's the case. That's a lot, actually. I'd been afraid they would simply launch a volley of arrows at us at first sight. This seems very positive." He considered for a moment, then continued, "Also, since their base is in a valley, there's a decent chance we can scope it out from a distance before we waltz in. This actually seems very positive, to me." Moon didn't look convinced. "If you say so," she said. Her face softened, and she said, "I guess you're right. We're better off for having met them." She drew her hands down her face, and shook them as if flinging off invisible water. "Ok," she said, standing. "Let's get moving again. We're just being lazy sitting around in this field." She smiled, but Ross could tell that her heart was still heavy with uncertainty. CHAPTER The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and they reached a beautiful site a few hours before sunset. Since their hike tomorrow would be short, they decided to stop and have a relaxed evening, or at least as relaxed as they could get. With the tent set up and a decent stack of firewood set aside, Ross decided to walk out and see if he could add some variety to their dining routine. The elf food was still delicious, but it was running out with a certain inevitiability. He'd feel good if he could find a rabbit or something to add to dinner tonight. He and Hawkeye walked further down the trail until they came upon a wide, open meadow sloping downhill, amid scattered stones. He could see for a couple miles thanks to the slope. It was beautiful country, and he felt refreshed to simply be standing gazing at it. Ross inhaled a huge lungful of air, and expelled it happily. As much as he liked making progress towards the Kho'loc and their uncertain interactions, taking a few hours off was very refreshing. At his feet, Hawkeye suddenly whined quietly. Ross looked down, and saw that the dog was staring hard down the meadow. Ross tried to follow his gaze, and sure enough, there was a grey rabbit, standing up on its hind legs, its mouth busily chewing. The rabbit rotated its ears, but otherwise showed no signs of departing. Ross quietly nocked and drew an arrow, and sent a quick wish heavenward, just in case it would help. He sighted on the rabbit as best he could, but figured this would be a difficult shot -- the rabbit was 50 yard away, and the tip of Ross's arrow almost completely obscured it as he sighted. He let fly, and a moment later the arrow clattered onto the ground a few feet from the rabbit, which turned and scampered away, its white tail flashing in the air as it ran. Ross jogged forward, looking for the arrow. He found it, but its tip had broken off when it hit the ground. He stuck it back in the quiver anyway; he could probably repair it, and making arrows was time-consuming. Ross and Hawkeye spent an hour on the meadow, moving slowly and quietly when they moved, but mostly sitting still. Rabbits appeared infrequently. To his amazement, Ross watched a circling hawk dive silently, and after a long moment of frantic flapping, take off again with something smaller than a rabbit, but bigger than a mouse, struggling in its talons. Finally, as he was ready to give up, another rabbit appeared upwind of them, hopping slowly as it tugged at the grass. Ross sighted the arrow and loosed the shot. To his amazement, it hit square in the middle of the rabbit, who hopped once, convulsively, and then went still. Ross jogged up, led by Hawkeye, and retrieved the rabbit. Hawkeyed danced around, clearly hopeful that this would result in some tasty rabbit snacks for him too. "Don't worry dog, you'll get some," said Ross, smiling. He bowed his head for a moment, and said a silent thanks to the rabbit. It was a tribal custom to thank the departing spirit of hunted animals, and he'd found it to be very comforting. He didn't particularly like hunting, but he liked starving even less, so this had come to be an acceptable compromise. They headed back to camp, Ross holding up the rabbit in triumph, like Hercules holding up Medusa's head. All three of them dined very well that night. CHAPTER The sun rose upon a tent which had again gone undisturbed in the night. For whatever reason, their stalker had not bothered them. Ross remarked upon it, wondering aloud whether it could be the amulet, and Moon countered that the only contact they'd had so far had been a warning, and had had little to do with whether the goat man had liked them. Ross hmm'd in response, and continued about his tasks, rolling the tent up and stuffing it into its little nylon bag. They sliced up some of the elven food for breakfast, but put off actually eating it until they were walking again. Both Ross and Moon felt a certain excitement at the fact that they would probably come face-to-face with the Kho'loc today. Their steps were brisk to match the bright rising sun. Gentle wispy clouds flitted across the sky, high up in the air. There was a light wind from the south which felt fresh on their faces. The trail grew better defined the further south they travelled, and Ross wondered if it were the Kho'loc who typically traversed it. It was slowly descending, and soon they could see over the shoulder of the hill that they were headed for a large expanse of plainland. According to the map Ross had gotten from the elves, the plain was the last major feature before they reached the more hilly territory in which the Kho'loc lived. The late summer grassland was alive with insects and little burrowing creatures. Ross gave some thought to trying to hunt, but they were making too much noise for that to be a practical ambition. So, he decided to relax and enjoy the scenery. One thing to be said for the former state of Washington, it was a beautiful place to live, if you could take the 6-8 months of overcast during the winter. The plain seemed to grow in size once they'd entered it. What seemed like a short, manageable distance from the sloping trail down now seemed to stretch forever. It was a nice enough day, but the complete lack of shade has Ross thinking about how it was getting rather warm. Before too long, he called a halt, and they stripped off their long-sleeve shirts, and Ross rolled up the cuffs of his pants to let some more air in. As he was leaned over doing this, he thought he heard something. He straightened, and looked out to the east, along the length of the grassland. The grass moved gently in response to the breeze. "What is it?" Moon had picked up on his alert. Ross glanced at Hawkeye, but the dog seemed unconcerned. He relaxed a bit, and looked back at Moon. "I thought I heard something. Maybe not." He finished rolling up his cuff, and they loaded up. Ross paused again, cocking his head. "Do you hear that?" Moon listened, but shook her head no. "What do you hear?" "It's like... a woman singing. It could be my imagination, I'm not sure." He paused again, an odd, entranced look on his face. "Are you sure you don't hear it?" "No, I don't hear anything but the wind in the grass. Could you be interpreting that as a woman singing?" "Yeah," said Ross, still listening. "That's probably it." After another pause, he said, "Ok, yeah, I'm just hearing things. Let's go." He shook his head as if to clear it, and they set off down the narrow path through the waist-high grass. As they walked, Ross kept thinking he was hearing a woman singing, but Moon was right, it must just be his mind, finding order in the chaos of the wind's rustling. It *was* very faint. Still... They had reached a point where it appeared that the mountains on either side were about equally far away. This plain was taking much longer to cross than either of them had anticipated. Hawkeye still padded along placidly beside them, so at least there was no overt danger around. "Should we stop to eat, or keep moving?" Moon had stopped. Ross almost bowled her over, and stopped just short of running into her. "Oh," he said, seeming to need a moment to come back to reality. "Um, let's stop. I wish there was some shade, though." So they stopped, eating elvish food, which remained as surprisingly delicious as it had been the first time they tried it. Hawkeye wandered off into the grass, apparently of to do some lunching of his own. Ross remained distracted, and would randomly pause during conversation, staring into the distance, toward the end of the valley, to the east. Moon was starting to get concerned. She spent a moment concentrating while Ross was distracted, to see if she could sense anything amiss. Everything seemed normal, but she had a feeling that she wouldn't know what she was looking for. They'd been discussing the oddity of finding Stephen Gould as they sat and ate. Moon tried to start the conversation up again, but before she could get ou the first word, Ross stood suddenly, and started moving in the direction he kept glancing at. Moon Shadow stood up too, and said, "Where are you going?" Ross didn't respond. She tried again, more firmly. "Ross! Where are you going?" He acted as if he hadn't heard her, although he was only a couple dozen feet away. He started moving faster. She cursed, all the pieces coming together. She cast around, looking for something to use as a marker, but nothing leapt to her attention. She grabbed Ross's dirk, which he'd left on the ground next to his pack, and looked up. He was a hundred feet away and still gaining speed. She concentrated for a moment, and set up a sort of magical beacon. Ross was travelling perpendicular to the path, through grass which was essentially featureless. She didn't have time or the inclination to pick up her pack, or the strength to pick up his, but she didn't want to abandon it all. Spell placed, with the dirk and its little strap clanking in her hand, she ran after Ross. "Hawkeye!" she called. Maybe he could snap Ross out of whatever was going on. Moon had a suspicion she knew, but wasn't certain. There was a rustle in the grass to her right, and Hawkeye bounded forward to join her. They ran after Ross, who had broken into a run, pelting toward some goal that only he could see or hear. "Hawkeye!" said Moon in between breaths, "run ahead... and see... if you can... stop him!" The little dog accelerated like a bullet, and was quickly only visible as a moving ripple in the grass. She heard barking ahead, but found she had to concentrate on running more than anything else. Ross seemed to run with an inexhaustible energy, as if... well, as if possessed. Moon gave a passing thought to casting about for ley lines like Stephen had said, to see if she could use their energy to fuel her running, but she really didn't feel like testing brand new magic right at the moment. Ahead of her, she heard more barking, followed by a high pitched yelp of pain. She tried to run faster. Her world reduced to her lungs, legs, and heart. Each was working beyond capacity, and all were starting to burn with the effort. Ross continued to run when she looked up. Of course, running was complicated by the fact that, although the grass was pretty much an even height, the ground wasn't. The dog had gone silent. Moon desperately hoped he was ok, but couldn't spare the attention right now to try finding him. She could see what might be a dog-sized ripple near Ross, but it was very hard to tell. The wind had picked up, making all the grass wave more energetically. She felt like her lungs were about to burst, and her legs were nothing but moving pain. She hadn't run this much since the War, and then there had been breaks as she hid behind things. She looked up again when she thought there was a sound ahead. Ross had disappeared. "No, god, no!" she found herself saying. Ross couldn't disappear! She stood no hope of going on and saving Gerrard without Ross. She ran forward, almost blinded by panic at her family disppearing on her. Her vision was starting to cloud over from tears of panic and fear when she tripped on something big, and went down hard, the dirk flying from her hand as she tried to brace her fall. She looked back to see what she'd tripped on. It was Ross! "Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed, her breath ripping out of her. She crawled back to her husband, panting and feeling like she was about to expire. She saw, as she gained sight of his whole body, that Hawkeye was at Ross's ankle, his mouth clamped around the man's leg. She almost burst out laughing, she was so relieved. She collapsed on top of him, panting and laughing. He stirred, and made a sort of "Oof!" sound. He drew his breath in sharply, and tried to sit up. Moon's weight kept him on the ground. "Ow," he said. "I think I broke my leg." Moon's smile faded a bit, but she was still so ecstatic after finding Ross alive and in this plane of reality that she didn't think she could completely stop smiling for almost anything. "Which leg?" she asked. This was the kind of thing she'd specialized in on the farm, since the majority of War survivors were essentially city slickers trying to live the rural life. Broken limbs were disturbingly common. "My right leg, down low." She crawled down to look at his leg. Hawkeye's eyes swivelled up to meet hers. She said quietly, "I think you can let go now. He seems to be back to normal." He loosened his jaw, leaving behind a perfect set of tooth marks in Ross's lower calf, which slowly oozed blood. She looked back up to Ross and said, "I think you'll be fine. Does it feel better yet?" "A little." He sat up and looked down at his leg. "Did... did Hawkeye bite me?" "Yes." "Why did he do that? Stupid dog, why did you bite my leg!" Ross was starting to get angry, something he hadn't done with Hawkeye in the entire eight years since the Change. Moon raised her hands, trying to head off the outburst. "He was saving you." She pushed him back down, so he was lying on his back. "Hawkeye kept you from who knows what. Do you remember getting up and walking away from lunch?" "No... Did I do that?" Ross looked confused. "Yeah. You just got up and suddenly started walking this way. Moments later, you were running. I barely had time to... oh, shit, the dirk. I'll get it in a second. Anyway, you took off running, and Hawkeye and I took off after you. If it'd just been me, you'd be long gone. You were running like you were possessed." "I was? I don't remember running. I... Well, I guess I can't remember how I got to be here. I can remember something, but it's like a dream, and it's already beyond recollection, you know?" Ross furrowed his brow, trying to remember the last few minutes. "And... Hawkeye bit me?" "Yeah, he was trying to stop you. You didn't hear me calling you, you didn't hear Hawkeye barking; you were totally enchanted by something, and I mean that in the magical way. I have a theory what it was." "What's that?" Ross sounded puzzled. He obviously had no clue what had just happened. "Hold on," said Moon. She closed her eyes for about 30 seconds, and held her hand over Ross's damaged leg. He felt a faint tingling, although he wouldn't swear to it, since the pain from the bite wound was pretty intense. She looked up again. "I think you were hearing a siren. Did you ever read the Odyssey? Or maybe it was the Illiad, I forget. Anyway, there were these sailors who had to pass by a certain spot that seemed to wreck all ships. They figured out that it was sirens, and the captain had all of the crew stuff their ears with cotton, so they couldn't hear the call. He had himself lashed to the mast with his ears unplugged so he could hear the siren's call. Anyway, I forget exactly what happened, but it was exactly like that -- a beautiful woman's voice singing, and he strained against the ropes trying to get to her. He would have run the ship aground trying to get to her." A look of realization was dawning on Ross's face. "I do remember a woman singing, now that you say that. I... I heard it earlier, right?" "Yeah, you said you heard it about 30 minutes before we stopped for lunch, and you were acting really weird during lunch. Then you jumped up and ran off." Moon smiled slyly. "I have a feeling sirens only work on men." Ross blushed, then said, "You're probably right. You didn't hear anything, did you." It wasn't a question. "No. And neither did Hawkeye. I doubt sirens work on dogs." She smiled. Ross smiled too, and then laughed. "Now I'm just thinking of what a doggy siren would sound like." Moon laughed at the image, too. They both sat there amidst the limitless grasses, laughing at the image of a canine's alluring song. CHAPTER Ross hobbled back to the packs, leaning on Moon. Hawkeye trotted alongside anxiously, as if either concerned for Ross, or concerned that there might be punishment in the offing. He obviously didn't like that he'd had to bite his master. When they reached the packs (Moon having finally located the discarded dirk after 20 frustrating minutes of searching through the grass), Ross sat down gratefully, then lay back, putting his leg up on his backpack. He let out a guttural sigh. "Can you spell me against sirens for the future?" he said, throwing his arm over his eyes. "Maybe. I'll think about it. For now, let's take a look at your leg. I neutralized any bacteria back there, but maybe I can speed up the healing a bit." She dug in her pack, and brought out a small kit, contained in a scavenged sturdy plastic box. Out of the kit came some small glass vials, a roll of cloth, and a tiny fabric bag with some dried herbs inside. She sat mixing things together in the palm of her hand, the only convenient vessel small enough. When it was ready, she said, "This will probably sting, but it'll reduce sensation in your leg, and you'll heal a bit faster." Ross let out a yelp as she smeared it on the wounds, but restrained himself to gritting his teeth and breathing hard through the remainder of the treatment. When Moon was done, she patted him on the head, and said, "You did very well," without seeming too condescending. She wrapped the cloth around his leg, and tucked the loose end under several of the wraps. [stuck there, they camp in place] Ross sat up after she was done, experimentally flexing his foot. He grimaced. "I don't think I can really walk on this," he said. Some of the healer's calm certainty drained out of Moon's face as she realized the extent of their predicament. With Ross out of action, hiking onward was essentially impossible, much less any thought of confronting the Kho'loc. She composed herself again, trying not to let the fear out onto her face. "We'll set up camp here. There's still plenty of light left, so I'll head out and see if I can find anything to help you heal faster. I want to get moving," her facade broke for a moment as she thought of her son in the hands of those elves. "But we have to stay here until you're well enough to walk. At least," she said, smiling at him, "with your leg like this I don't need to worry about you running off after an sirens." He laughed, and said, "True." They set up camp a little ways off the trail, away from the siren. Moon dragged everything to their chosen site, and Ross hobbled there under his own power. He realized as he did so that, in addition to the dog bite, his ankle hurt, which was the real cause of his walking pain. "I must have twisted my ankle when I fell," he said, as he sank to the ground with a grimace. Moon didn't say anything as she continued setting up the tent. Finally, she looked up and said, "Maybe I can do something about that." She looked around, and, deciding that it was as good as it was going to get for now, she stood up and looked out across the flat grassland. "I'm going to head out and see what I can find. Maybe nature has put some unexpected bounty in our path." She looked back down at Ross. "Should I take Hawkeye with me, or leave him here?" "Take him with you," said Ross after a moments' deliberation. "Help me string up my bow. With that, I'll be able to keep anything I can see at bay, at least." Suddenly, Moon sat back down. Looking quizzically at her, Ross said, "What's wrong?" She sighed. "I just realized, I can't leave you here. That siren might start up again, and you'd probably run after it whether your leg was broken or gnawed off or anything else. I'll have to think about what I can do with what I have with me." She looked a little dejected. Ross reached over and scratched her head. "Well, I appreciate it, either way. Thanks for helping me. And, you know, saving me from a fate worse than death, at a guess. What does a siren do to you?" "I don't know," she said, still feeling down. "Drives you mad, or eats your brains or something, probably." She looked up, a quirkly half-smile on her face. "Anyway, you're welcome. I couldn't do this without you. I thought... I thought for a moment, after you'd fallen down, that you'd disappeared somehow. Suddenly the whole world seemed hopeless. The thought of losing you, and Gerrard, and," she paused, remembering, "I think I even thought you'd killed Hawkeye. I felt very, very alone for a moment." Tears welled up in her eyes, and she said, "Please don't leave me, Ross. I need you. I love you." Ross scooted to sit next to her, and they embraced, the grass waving gently around them. CHAPTER Eventually, night fell. Ross was not disturbed again by the siren, for whatever reason. Moon considered what she might do if he seemed to be entraced by the song again, but couldn't really think of any magic more effective than simply tackling him. They discussed their plan for dealing with the Kho'loc, although after a couple hours of discussion, they didn't really come up with anything they hadn't already decided. There were simply too many unknown factors to make any more decisions. As the sun set, Moon and Ross sat watching its slow march below the horizon, accompanied by all the fanfare and celebration of red and orange streaking across the sky. They discussed to what extent mythology and science must necessarily be at odds. With magic back in the world, did that affect outer space, as well? Was magic a galaxy-wide phenomenon, or limited to Earth? Ross mused that they might never know, since all their star-reaching technology had fizzled and died. "Do you remember," said Ross, "that night just before the War, when we were sitting together in that park overlooking downtown? You know, the one on Queen Anne? The lights of the city were flickering, and you could almost sense the electrons breaking down." "Yeah," said Moon, lying on her back, looking up at the first faint stars which were beginning to appear against the backdrop of orange fading to deep blue. "We sat there, holding hands like teenagers, and you pointed up at the sky. 'Look,' you said, 'falling stars!' And we watched for a few minutes before we realized that they weren't natural meteorites... They were satellites, starting to fall out of orbit." "The sky was amazing for a few weeks. I had no idea there were so many satellites in orbit. There must have been thousands and thousands of them." Ross lay back as well, staring up at the sky. A shooting star briefly flared, as if in tribute to the memories they were sharing. More stars were visible now. "My god," said Ross, "that was so long ago. It feels like a million years. I guess it was a different world in a very literal sense." He chuckled. Moon sat up, looking behind her. "Ross, the moon is rising." Sure enough, the moon, bright and full, was just clearing the mountains to the east. "I wonder..." said Moon, looking up at her namesake on the horizon. She sat up fully, with an excited look on her face. "Ross, can I try something on your ankle?" "Sure, what?" "It's a technique I've only been able to try a couple of times, but it's worked really well when I've done it. I should really come up with names for these things, but I don't usually have anyone to discuss magic with. Anyway, it's a healing technique that works really well when the moon is full. I was checking earlier, and I discovered there's a bit ley line running up this valley. We're not really right on top of it, but I think I can use it too." "Sure, go ahead." Moon spent a couple of minutes looking around for materials, then settled back down. She twisted together some grass into a loose bundle, and spent some time carving a few runes on a small stick. She rummaged in her bag, and pulled out her kit box again, selecting one of the glass vials. She asked Ross for his lighter, which he extracted from his pocket and handed to her. She lit the end of the twisted grass, and waved it in a complicated pattern, walking slowly around Ross, who'd sat up. She murmured rhythmic words to herself. Her movements were odd, flowing but angular and she traced a circle around Ross, the flaming grass always moving. He was starting to see a trail, lingering behind the flame, and soon it described a full circle around him, twisted together like celtic knotwork. She quickly set down the grass, stamping it out with her foot, and picked up something else. The flame's trail remained, shimmering slightly in the moonlight. Joined to its yellow tracery, Moon Shadow started painting with blueish purple traces of light, weaving in and out of the yellow traces from the flame. Ross lost any sense of where he was, since he was now surrounded by a bright, intricate tracery of light, unmoved by the gentle breeze which still played across the plain. Moon Shadow's chanting grew louder. She was speaking in a language he'd never heard before, like a cross between Latin and some Cthulhoid guttural sounds, with hard, syncopated consonants rattling in his eardrums like drums. The chanting stopped, and Ross saw the lightwork start to move, rotating slowly around him. The yellow was flowing in the opposite direction from the purple. It grew faster, shrinking as it did. It shrank to encompass Ross, although he had no sense of claustrophobia. It actually shrank through him, passing through his body as if it weren't there, slowly contracting and growing ever more intricate, none of the detail lost as it grew smaller. It contracted until it was the size of a grapefruit, centered around his ankle. Then, the light started to spread, still intermingled threads of purple and yellow. The intricate, moving pattern spread out light slow-motion lightning, moving from his ankle up to his hips, where it curled down into his other leg. It also branched up and seemed to plunge into his chest, before it spread to his left arm, stopping around the elbow. He was outlined in yellow and purple fire. Where the light stopped and concentrated, he felt an odd mixture of heat and coolness, and he had the sense that something was changing. This went on for what seemed like an eternity, although it may have only lasted five seconds. Ross no longer had any sense of time or place, only the magic currently coursing over his body, writhing and moving like flowing, slow-motion lightning. The light started to fade, unravelling as it did so. Finally, as it was on the verge of fading out, the light trails straightened, and accelerated upward, disappearing in the night sky. Ross's ability to see returned. The world was bright under the blue light of the full moon. Moon Shadow was crouching beside him, a smile playing across her lips. Sound suddenly rushed at him, seconds after his vision had come back, and he could hear every sound in the night: crickets, wind rumbling across his ear, the waving of the grass. He even though he could hear the earthworms below them, slowly tunneling about their business, making a tiny but profound basso rumble. Moon's breathing sounded like what an elephant must sound like, with its enormous lungs. The sensations faded, and the world became more normal. He looked at Moon, and sat up. Somehow, he'd come to be stretched out flat on the ground. She smiled, but didn't say anything. Finally, like the tiny burst of a bubble that's been growing for minutes, he said, "Wow." "How do you feel?" Moon whispered the words. "I..." Ross thought about it. "I feel great, actually." He experimentally wiggled his bandaged ankle, and found no pain there. "What was that?" "That," said Moon, "was unexpectedly powerful healing magic." "Wow." He stood up. There was indeed no pain in his ankle. In fact, he realized he was breathing more easily than he had been just a moment ago. "What was that supposed to do?" "It was supposed to heal your ankle. What I didn't expect is that it apparently sought out and fixed other problems. Do you notice any other changes?" "Yeah," he said. "My lungs are working better. I wonder if I had asthma or something." He paused, mentally sifting through his body to see what else might have changed. "I saw it head for your left leg, and your left arm. What were those?" "Oh," said Ross, realizing that pains were no longer present. "My left elbow's been hurting for a couple months now, I guess I'd gotten used to it. My left leg..." He took a few experimental steps. "Huh. It's easier to move. I never knew there was a problem, but it's definitely better now. It's kind of like the first time I put glasses on, I had no idea it was possible for vision to be any better than it was." "You wore glasses?" "Oh, yeah." He was distracted, looking down at his newly more-functional body. "I work them until I was in college, then I got lasik with my student health insurance. Glad I did, I'd be totally stuck now. My vision sucked. Actually..." he paused again, and looked out at the mountains. "I think it helped my vision, too." He looked back down at Moon. "That's one hell of a spell!" She laughed. "I'm glad. I had no idea it was going to do all that. In the past, it's only ever fixed the problems I told it to fix. I think that tapping into that ley line made all the difference." "Wow," was all Ross could say. He did a little pseudo-tapdance on the flattened grass, then sat down. "Yeah." Moon grabbed Ross's hand. "I'm glad it worked so well. And, I hope our house is sitting on a couple ley lines." CHAPTER They were once again able to pass the whole night without disturbance. Ross awoke early, full of energy and ready to tackle the day. Moon remained asleep until the sun had been up for nearly half an hour. Ross didn't have the heart to wake her. Whether or not she'd used a ley line last night, he suspected that the magic she'd performed had taken a lot out of her. "Morning, sleepy-head," he called to her once she finally poked her head out of the tent. She grunted and disappeared into the tent again. She re-emerged several minutes later, still looking groggy. She sat down next to Ross on the flattened grass. He'd been running a flat stone over his dirk, trying to hone the edge, but he couldn't tell if he was improving it, or making it worse. He was still spoiled by pre-Change cutlery, which was made of excellent steel and kept its edge very well. His dirk was sold to him at a market day about five years ago, and had obviously been made after the Change, of questionable steel. He'd never actually used it defensively, although he'd used it to cut weeds more than once. At a foot and a half long, it was hardly an imposing weapon, but was better than the little knife he had on his belt for food. "How are you feeling?" asked Ross, setting the rock and knife aside. Moon's face was bleary. He hadn't really needed to ask for the informational content of her reply, but was using it as a kind of sympathetic introduction to conversation. She grunted again. After a moment, she formed a more coherent response: "Tired. I had dreams all night about having to perform magic I'd never done before for elves who were holding Gerrard, and making me perform like a circus monkey. When I got it wrong, which seemed like most of the time, they'd do something that made him cry and strain against the chains he was tied up in." Rather than crying, which Ross had half-expected, she just sighed, everything about her radiating weariness. "Well," said Ross gently, "today's the day we'll get our first sight of the Kho'loc. Maybe we'll see Gerrard. We'll probably be home in a couple of days." He looked to the south, toward their destination, although all he could see was grass. "I have a feeling that amulet Stephen gave us is really working. I think that's why we haven't been bothered at night any more." "That would be nice," said Moon, although without much enthusiasm. "And maybe more importantly," said Ross, pressing on, "I think it'll help a lot with the Kho'loc. We should find Stephen again and thank him." "Let's worry about that after we've got Gerrard back," said Moon, her normally happy disposition nowhere in evidence. "What can I do?" Ross looked at his wife with concern. "You seem depressed. Can I help somehow?" "No," said Moon, with a trace of irritation in her voice. "I think I'm just worn out from that healing magic, and then having disturbing dreams all night really didn't help." "Why don't you replenish yourself from the ley line?" asked Ross, unsure that he'd understood what Stephen had told them, but eager to help if possible. Moon looked up at him, with a strange expression on her face. "Oh yeah," she said. She closed her eyes, and swivelled her head around until she was facing about north, and waited like that for a minute. Her eyes opened again, and she said, "Thank you for remembering that. I'd completely forgotten what Stephen said about using the ley lines for his own energy." "Do you feel better?" Ross looked at her expectantly. He was remembering that Stephen had said something about a downside to using the magical energy that way, but couldn't remember what exactly he'd said. "Yes. Not one hundred percent, but better than I was." She smiled, and did indeed seem to be back to her old cheerful self again. "It's better than coffee." "Ugh," said Ross, "don't remind me!" Neither of them had seen coffee in years, and both had been habitual coffee drinkers before the Change. "Let's get going," said Moon, standing up. She ducked back into the tent and started rolling her sleeping bag before Ross could respond. CHAPTER The Kho'loc base, as described on Ross's map, was nestled in a little valley, at the base of a small waterfall. This was not some grandiose, Niagara-style waterfall, but one of the thousands of waterfalls scattered throughout the Cascade mountains which would dry to a trickle during the hot season at the end of Summer, and gush with muddy brown water after the Spring thaw. The valley itself, situated half-way to the treeline, was lush with cedar, douglas fir, and pine trees, growing so thick that they seemed to fill in the valley, and making a curious illusion that the surrounding upper ground continued as treetops. The waterfall, at the southeast end of the valley, defined the point of a V, and the valley opened out to the northwest, with jagged rock walls on the north side gradually transforming to a gentle wooded slope as they got further from the waterfall. The south side described a bulge near the base of the V, with walls of equal steepness, but covered in tall trees staggering up the slope. It too rounded out, so that the valley started rough and jagged, and ended gently. This architecture afforded an excellent base, as Ross saw, overlooking one of the tall walls near the waterfall. There was essentially no way to approach the waterfall end of the valley without coming up from the mouth. The dense trees growing from the valley floor also prevented him from seeing much down below. The drop must have been 30 or 40 feet from the top of the waterfall to its base, which tapered as the slope of the surrounding hillside cut down the walls until the jaggedness disappeared, and the sloping forest floor took over. Ross crawled back from the lip of the wall, and walked quietly back to where Moon was sitting with Hawkeye and their packs. Hawkeye was alert, but didn't seem unduly disturbed by their proximity to the Kho'loc. "I couldn't see much," he said, dropping to the ground next to Moon and leaning against the same tree. "There are a lot of trees in the valley, so you can't really see the floor. The waterfall's tiny, it must have been a lot bigger before, to carve out the valley like that." "You couldn't see anything at all?" "Well, not much. I think I saw someone walking around down there, but I couldn't be sure. There was a flash of something light colored, possibly elvish hair, but that was it. I mean, that's probably where they are, the map says so, and it makes sense. That would be a great place to hole up, it looks like it's easily defended, unless you're being attacked by mountain goats." "I guess we shouldn't discount that possibility," said Moon, smiling. "Are you proposing we recruit the local mountain goats?" "That would be a good trick, wouldn't it. I'd be disoriented if I were suddenly pumelled by a group of angry mountain goats." Moon grinned at the image. "Well, you'll have to be the one doing the recruiting. I doubt they'd follow me. I probably don't smell like an alpha male, or whatever the mountain goat equivalent is." "Yeah," said Moon. She looked thoughtful. "You're not really going to do that, are you?" "No, I was just thinking about how it could be done, though. I've never been able to implant thoughts into anyone's mind before, and that'd probably be the best way." "What a frightening thought," said Ross. "If you figure that out, please don't implant thoughts in my mind about doing all the chores or anything." He smiled. "Oh no, I'd have other uses for that." She playfully pinched his butt, which caused Ross's face to flush, making his scar stand out vivid white. "You're in a surprisingly feisty mood," said Ross, his face slowly going back to normal. "No, I'm scared as hell," she said. "But feisty seems more useful." "Ok, then." Ross looked toward the valley. "So what do we do now?" "I was going to ask you the same thing." "Hmm." They sat in silence for a minute before Hawkeye started making the decision for them. His demeanor changed from alert to defensive, his hackles raising as he stood up. Ross looked down at the little dog he'd known through so much. "What's up?" he said quietly. Hawkeye glanced back at him, and started slowly walking to the southeast, paralleling the nearby valley wall. Ross stood up and followed him, his hand resting on the pommel of his dirk. Suddenly, Hawkeye barked once, then darted forward. Ross leapt to keep up with him, and Moon trailed after them, not wanting to be left behind. Just as suddenly, Hawkeye diverted, leaping off to the left, still strikingly silent. He ran in an arc, with Ross cautiously following, trying to simultaneously keep the dog in sight, avoid fallen logs and tree trunks, and keep his eye out for whatever had excited the beagle. With surprising synchronization, the woods were full of elves with drawn bows. Ross skidded to a stop, and Moon piled into him, almost knocking him over. Hawkeye stood at their feet, his teeth bared, looking ready to take on the whole group. Ross looked back, looking for an escape route, but they were surrounded. CHAPTER They were marched at swordpoint into the Kho'loc camp. It was definitely more of a camp than a permanent base, with cloth tents set up on the ground, rather than the elegant treehouses of Nunish's elves. They were still effectively camoflaged, and Ross found his eyes sliding off them, nearly unable to see their shape until he got up close to one and could make out the weave of the fabric. Ross had been relieved of his dirk, and their packs had been left behind, which caused Ross some worry. However, they hadn't touched the amulet around Moon's neck, for which he was grateful. Perhaps the elves weren't magically all-powerful as he'd feared. Their group, which now consisted of Ross and Moon and four escorts (the others having peeled away as they entered the camp), came to a stop in front of a visually-challenging tent. One of their escort, who had spoken around ten words total so far, entered the tent and was inside for several minutes. Moon and Ross kept exchanging glances. They hadn't been tied up, and except for being surrounded by dozens of attentive, potentially deadly elves, were free to go if they so chose. However, it seemed like a singularly ill-advised idea. They remained standing quietly. Finally, an elf appeared out of the tent, and grabbed them both by the arm, drawing them inside. No one followed. As their eyes adjusted to the gloomy interior, Ross started to make out its features. It was not, as he'd been expecting, larger on the inside than on the outside. It was still a large tent, long and tall, which its camoflage effect have successfully concealed. Its walls were curved and rounded, forming more of an organic shape than the square walls and sharp corners he'd been expecting. It was plainly decorated, with a spindly-looking table set higher than he'd expected, and two tall and skinny stools, to match the tall and skinny elves. Even at 5' 11", Ross was at least a head shorter than every elf he'd met so far. Sitting at the table was another elf, who looked similar enough to the elves which had surrounded him that Ross couldn't be sure whether he'd been in their escort or not. The one who'd dragged them in deposited them in front of the seated elf. She (Ross realized with a bit of shock that he was facing a female elf, although she was dressed identically to the males; he hadn't been able to discern the difference until he'd gotten quite close) looked them up and down. "What were you doing up there?" Her face seemed to show scorn, but once again, Ross was uncertain whether that was actual scorn, or simply the way elvish faces were built. Her voice was neutral, containing none of the threat he would have expected from a human in this situation. Ross looked at Moon, and she nodded slightly. He would do the talking. "We were debating the best way to..." "Attack us?" This time, there was a slightly accusatory tone in her voice. "No, I was going to say, 'greet you.' We believe you may know something about the whereabouts of our son." He paused, wondering how consistent verbal conventions were between elvish and human English. Would she understand that he was posing a question? It occurred to Ross after a moment's pause that she may not. Her eyes narrowed, and *now* he could tell that she was favoring them with a scornful look, or something like it. Just as he was drawing a breath to clarify, she said, "Your son? What would we know of a human child?" Ross exhaled, caught off-guard. Moon had grabbed his hand without his being aware of it, and now squeezed, although he was unsure what message she might be trying to convey. After a moment's thought, he said, "We were told... We spoke with Baron Nunish, to the north, and he said... He thought you might know something about it. Our son was taken from our farm, in the Snohomish valley to the northwest from here, about a week ago, by a group of elves." Ross swallowed, wondering if they'd wandered into a situation from which they could not extract themselves. "I... see." Her voice was cold. She fingered her chin as she considered them through narrowed eyes. "And you think we were the elves who took your son?" "No," said Ross quickly, trying to avoid a confrontation. "No, we were simply told that you might know more about it than Nunish did. Pardon me, I mean Baron Nunish. I meant no disrespect." "No, of course not. We do not recognize Nunish's claims in any case. His assumed titles mean nothing here." She smiled a sly smile, then said, "However, you didn't come here to discuss politics, did you." "No, ma'am." Ross was suddenly unsure how to politely address a female elf, but pressed on regardless. "No, we simply want to find our son and go home." "Well," said the elf, straightening up on her stool, we don't know anything about any human spawn. There are no children of men here." Ross hesitated, unsure how to proceed with this information. He had been quite sure this would be the end of the line. He didn't know if he could face searching further, and he considered very briefly the sad fantasy that he would become a wandering beggar, begging for information at least as much as food scraps. Moon squeezed his hand again, and he guessed that she was thinking similar thoughts. He didn't look at her, not wanting to weaken his resolve at the sight of her unhappy face. "You're sure you don't know of any elves who might take a human child? They were dressed like you are, in the same type of clothes..." He stopped abruptly, at a look from the elf. "We do not know anything of human children. I will not repeat myself again. However," she smiled a chilling, deadly smile, "it is my wish that you will stay with us this night. It's the least we can do to help you on your search." Ross swallowed again. That didn't sound like a good deal, but he didn't know if "No" was an acceptable option. He debated in his mind for a second, then said, "Would you allow us to retrieve our packs, up above the valley walls? And may I have my dirk back?" "No need. I will send someone to fetch your bags. You will receive your knife when you leave, you have no need of it here." Ross considered asking about Hawkeye, who had disappeared in the scuffle as they were captured, but decided that the dog could probably fend for himself for the moment. "Dawdin!" cried the female elf suddenly, surprising both of them. Ross turned to see another elf, presumably Dawdin, step into the tent. "You called, your highness?" Ross looked back at the elf. Had he just been talking with their queen? Nunish had said that elves didn't stand on all the pomp of human royalty, but his casual attitude probably would have had him exiled from the country if he'd talked to the Queen of England that way. "Yes, take these two to an empty tent, and have someone retreive their bags. They will be spending the night, as my honored guests." She smiled at them again, and Ross was surprised to see that he almost believed what she'd said about being honored guests. Her smile had been much more genuine all of a sudden. As quickly as if a switch had been flipped, the smile disappeared, and she turned back to the table, where a map was spread out. They were apparently dismissed. Dawdin escorted them out of the tent, and walked them up toward the waterfall, finally stopping in front of another nearly-invisible tent. "Please," he said, opening the flap. They entered to find a surprisingly well-furnished tent. The floor was dirt, but there was a bed set up in one curving corner, and another spindly table with a couple stools around it. Ross turned around to say thank you, but was unsurprised to see the tent flap already closed, and Dawdin gone. Moon sank down on the bed, and put her face into her hands. Ross sat down next to her, and put his arm around her shoulders. "C'mon," he said, "It's not that bad. Surely we can figure out who took Gerrard." He leaned down, trying to see between her fingers. "Moon? Nikki?" When Moon was a child, she'd said, her father used to call her Nikki when she was unhappy. Her face came up, damp around the eyes, but smiling. "I'm gonna have nothing but grey hair by the time this is all done," she said. "You don't really think we can find the other elves who dress like this and steal children, do you?" She collapsed back on the bed, her hands pressed to her face. "Argh!" "I don't know," said Ross, his cheerful facade fading a bit. "I don't know any more. I thought this was it. I thought we would get here, and do something, and we'd grab Gerrard and run all the way back home. It was a foolish dream. I don't know what we do now." "I don't even know," said Moon, lowering her hands to her side, "if we're safe here. That woman didn't seem like she liked us. What if they've just got us in here while they prepare the pot for human soup, or whatever it is evil elves do?" Ross's shoulders hitched up, and he raised his arms, saying, "Shhh! Not so loud." He looked around, as if checking for people listening. "They've been very polite so far, if you discount the whole armed escort thing, but I'm starting to think that's just how elves work." He looked into Moon's face, with one grey-green eye, and one clouded-over eye. She looked back at him, her face slightly puffy and red, with new lines creasing her forehead he didn't think he'd seen before. "Oh, Ross," she said, sitting up and wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her back. There was nothing else to do. CHAPTER As night approached, they were surprised to hear a voice outside their tent. It was a gentle, male voice, which said, "Pardon me," before a hand appeared and pulled aside the tent flap to reveal another elf. Ross was again struck by the similarity among elves, and found himself wondering if they saw humans as all looking alike, too. Ross and Moon hadn't attempted to leave their tent. It seemed they were being left alone there, and that seemed like the best policy for the moment. Their situation seemed unsure, at best, although their bags had been brought in about half an hour after they'd been shown into the tent. Ross noticed that his quiver was empty, although his bow was still attached to his pack. "Yes," said Ross, standing up. "Would you like some dinner?" Ross became suddenly, stomach-gurglingly aware that it'd been over twelve hours since he'd last eat. "Yes, please," they said in nearly perfect unison. The elf nodded once, and slipped back out of the tent. He reappared a moment later with a pair of carved, wooden plates, which he carried in and set down on the table. He disappeared again, this time coming back with a pair of metal goblets and a wineskin, which he poured into each goblet without question or comment. Ross came up to the table. The food smelled wonderful. Moon joined him, and said to the elf, "Thank you, this smells delicious." He nodded his head again as if he were a very polite butler. Suddenly, his demeanor changed, and he grew tense, throwing a look back over his shoulder to the closed tent flap. Grabbing Ross's shirt, he pulled the man close, and whispered in his ear, "Your son is here." The elf straightened up again, and turned as if to leave. Ross grabbed his arm, and a detached part of his mind was surprised at the apparent frailty he felt under the sleeve. "What? Where?" His voice was quiet but intense. Moon looked between the elf and her husband, not having heard what the elf said. "Not now. I'll come back later," said the elf in a whisper, and he slipped out of Ross's grasp, flitting out the entrance to the tent. "What did he say? What's going on?" Moon's face reflected concern. "Gerrard is here." CHAPTER They spent the next four hours in a state of higher anticipation than they'd ever experienced before. The elf's words were like a kind of salvation, but his manner had suggested that whatever the situation was, it wasn't going to involve politely asking for their four-year old back. Worse still, they could only discuss it in whispers, and they tried to keep those to a minimum, since the elves could surely hear a whisper as well as a human could, and there's little as suspicious as anxious whispering. Finally, they settled on laying back on the bed and trying to sleep. There was nothing else to do. When the elf finally appeared at their door, stealing in silently, Ross practically leapt out of the bed, and Moon had to cover her mouth with her hand for fear of calling out. Ross moved quickly to stand beside the tall humanoid, and pulled him to the table, where he motioned for the elf to sit down. They sat, with Moon hovering over them, not having a stool. She probably wouldn't have sat if there had been a stool, in any case. The elf leaned across the table, and Ross and Moon leaned in. The scene was lit by some kind of magical light that seemed to come from the fabric of the tent, giving everything a very flat look. "Listen carefully," said the elf, starting in without so much as an introduction. "Our queen, Kho, is mad. You met her this afternoon. I expect she was unspeakably rude to you. She has your son. "Some years ago... well, before we returned, apparently, she developed a desire for a child. Unable to conceive one herself, she grew madder and madder, until she'd passed all reasonable bounds of elven sanity. She finally snapped, killing the entire party she'd been out hunting with. She gathered elves about her who admired her ruthlessness, which is not a normal elven trait, I can tell you. "Her desire for a child was so strong that she eventually had her band abduct a human child, a girl. The girl was weak, and died in conditions that elves do not consider challenging, but may have been for humans. She tried again and again, each human child dying or running away in turn. In her madness, she couldn't see that her method was failing her, and persists. "The Kho'loc are a renegade band. We do not share normal elven values. This is important. "You must challenge the queen. Tomorrow, challenge Kho for the possession of your child. This is a formal process, I'll describe it in detail in a moment. You will have to face our champion in unarmed combat. Among elves, this is usually to the death, but I don't know what the rules are for challenges between human and elf. You may be expected to fight to first blood, or to unconsciousness. Or you may be expected to fight to the death." Moon gasped, covering her mouth, trying to stifle the sound. He continued as if she'd made no noise. "Once you have beaten our champion, Kho will lose honor and face, and will be forced by the terms of the challenge to release your son and let you go." "Wait, why are you telling us this," said Ross, finally finding a gap in the elf's stream of words. "I'm telling you this because I am a slave of the Kho'loc. I no longer wish to be a slave, and your challenge will give me my chance at freedom. You must not mention me or my role in this, there is no formalized way for me to gain freedom, I must have a sufficient distraction, and this is among the only distractions large enough." "You speak as if I can win against your champion, though. I've never fought anyone bare-handed in my life! My experience during the War was to run and hide, and set booby-traps when I could. I'm not a fighter!" "This is of no consequence. Are you familiar with the elven martial arts style called Uruk?" "No, I've never even heard the word before. This is hopeless!" "No, it's not. Uruk is based on grappling, punching and pressure-point holds. Are you familiar with pressure-points?" "Sort of. Humans use them to heal, I thought." "They can also be used for pain," said the elf, still leaning conspiratorially into the table. "However, most importantly, I believe that elves and humans do not share the same pressure-points. There may be analogs, but they're not all the same. For instance," he reached out a hand before Ross could react, and pinched Ross's bicep with moderate pressure. Ross looked at him curiously. "That should have sent you screaming to the ground. It didn't. I believe that between that difference, and the potion I will give you before the challenge, you stand an excellent chance of winning. Humans are dense." He held up a hand, "That may be the wrong word. Thick. Heavy. Human flesh carries more mass than elven flesh. Although we are stronger than many humans, strength is not the same thing as mass." He again demonstrated on Ross, punching him on the shoulder. Ross was pushed backwards, but not greatly so. "That was not a full strength punch, but as you can probably tell, with so little mass behind it, there is little transfer of energy. We depend upon strength. You may be able to defeat that with mass." "What's the potion?" Moon asked the question quietly, but forcefully. "How do you know it will work on a human? What does it do?" "It's a potion of speed. It works on horses and elves and dragons. Although," the elf smiled grimly, "I don't recommend being the one to administer a potion of speed to a dragon. It should also work on a human. Between mass and speed, you will be able to cause great damage to our champion. Without the pressure points he's used to, he will be at great disadvantage for harming you." The elf looked away as if he'd heard something, then turned back to Ross. "I must leave in a moment. Here is the wording of the challenge." He described the procedure, and had Ross repeat it back to him twice before he leapt up and was gone as quickly and silently as he'd entered. Ross's head was spinning, but Moon smiled at him. "How you feelin', champ?" CHAPTER With the morning came the same elf, bearing two carved wooden plates with breakfast. He smiled and was polite as if they'd never had the conversation late last night. He poured out their wine, and just before he turned to leave, he handed Ross a finely wrought silver-colored bottle, stoppered with a wooden plug. "Drink this just before the fight, it only lasts a few minutes," he whispered, then turned and was gone. Ross took the little bottle and dropped it into his pocket, then ate the breakfast. Elven food was amazing. After they'd finished their breakfast, nervously glancing at each other, the tent flap opened, and another elf strode in. "The queen will see you now," he said, and turned away without waiting for a response. Ross and Moon rose, and followed him out. He led them to a central area, where the queen was waiting, surrounded by what must have been the entire encampment. They stopped in front of her. As the elf last night had predicted, she said, "Humans. Have you anything to say for yourselves?" The surrounding elves looked on eagerly (or so Ross thought, still unused to deciphering the expressions of an elf's face). He drew a breath, and spoke as resoundingly as he could. "Queen Kho." She looked surprised. This was not the response she had expected. "...daughter of Kladen the Wise, of the tribe of Lurran, leader of the Kho'loc band." Her face had clouded over. The other elves remained silent, but confusion and anger seemed to be more in evidence than eagerness, now. "I challenge you for the possession of my son, Gerrard Rene Hansen, son of Ross Hansen and Moon Shadow Nicole Giambatista. Send forth your champion. You have been challenged," said Ross, glad he was near the end, "and you must respond." The elves erupted. Moon cringed at the noise, but it seemed to be celebratory more than anything else. Kho was standing perfectly still, glaring at Ross as if she would like nothing more than to bore holes straight through his skill with her eyes. The uproar calmed, and the gathered elves looked at their queen. The elf last night had said that her choices under the challenge were to accede to the demand, or put forth her champion. He also said she wouldn't accede to the demand, so Ross was ready when she said, "I accept your challenge. You will meet my champion in unarmed combat." She paused for a moment, apparently considering, then said, "to the death." The elves roared again, the sound seeming eerie coming from such normally-calm beings. They scattered, talking excitedly. Kho drew up close to Ross, and hissed, "I don't know how you knew to make this challenge, human, but you will pay for it with your life. Once I've finished you off, I will kill your woman and your child. You have made your last mistake." The elf last night hadn't mentioned anything about this, and Ross suddenly wondered if Kho would really stick to the terms of the challenge. But he was committed, and there was no way now but forward. CHAPTER Dawdin escorted them back to their tent, and once they'd stepped inside, said, "Do you understand the rules of what you've started?" Ross nodded his head yes, but stopped, then said, "Not well enough." "I am your assistant from now on. I will see to it that this is a fair fight, and that you understand the rules completely." He went on to explain the rules of the challenge, which were as the left last night had said. He then went on to describe the fight itself, and the conditions. "To the death," as it turned out, was a loose definition, in some ways. The opponent didn't need to completely expire, but had to be in such a condition that death was a certainty, and there was no way he could continue fighting. This allowed them to revive failed champions. Challenges were rare, but elves were a finite race, and they didn't like to lose members unnecessarily. Ross expressed his concern that Kho might not adhere to the rules, and was assured that Kho was not the final arbiter of the rules. The band, said Dawdin, would rip her apart if she substantially departed from the rules of the challenge. Both combatants would strip naked, to ensure that no weapons were hidden. The judge would stand between them, and when they both confirmed their readiness, he would step away, and the fight was on. There were no rules to speak of, except that it must be bare-handed combat, and that there was no assistance allowed in any form. If any assistance were detected, the assisted party would forfeit their claim. Ross thought of the potion in his pocket, and hoped the elves didn't know how fast humans could move. "Do you agree to these terms?" Dawdin looked expectantly at Ross. He gulped. "Yes," he said, his face feeling rather drained. Dawdin looked curiously at Ross. "I can't recall a human ever challenging an elf. It's not a practice we typically share with other races, although there has obviously been an exception. Well delivered, by the way," he smirked, although not unkindly. "You're in for the fight of your life. Quite literally. I'll deliver your acceptance to the queen. You will be expected in the circle this afternoon. I will come for you." He stood up from where he'd been perched on the edge of the bed. "Good luck, Ross Hansen." He turned and left the tent. CHAPTER Ross and Moon discussed, in a frantic whisper, the conditions of the fight. It appeared, that with Dawdin looking over him, he wouldn't have a chance to take the potion, and Ross had a definite feeling that he'd lose if he didn't. Finally, Moon took the potion from him, and carefully uncorked the bottle. She took a sniff of the contents, then said, "It doesn't smell like anything." "Maybe I can take it with some water?" "Could be. I have it. We still have our water bottle, right?" Ross dug out the old clear purple Nalgene bottle, which was starting to look the worse for wear, but still didn't leak. It was about 1/4 full. Moon took it and compared it to the volume of the potion. The potion bottle looked as though it held one tenth the volume of the water bottle. "I wonder if it's clear?" She held the metal flask up to the light at various angles, but couldn't really see inside. "No way we're that lucky. But as long as it's not too strongly colored, I doubt they'll be able to see it through that bottle." He waved at the Nalgene, which, although clear, was a saturated purple color. "So," he continued, "what's your plan?" "Well, if I bring this out, and try to give it to you just before the fight, we tell them it's water. They'll probably challenge it, and test it. It will be just water at that point, but while I'm walking back to you, I quietly dump the potion in." "How are you going to do that without being seen? I think we're going to be surrounded on all sides." "That's easy," she said, smiling. She made a complex waving gesture over the bottle, and spoke a few murmured words. With a tiny cascade of green sparks, the bottle became very hard for him to see, although if he concentrated, he could still see it. It looked like she was holding up air as she turned what must be the bottle back and forth in her hand. "Neat!" He lowered his voice, then continued, "How long does that last?" "It may be permanent. I've never really tried it before. It should last a few hours at least." "How'd you figure that out?" "Last night, as I was trying to go to sleep, I spent some time sensing around the tent material. I was trying to figure out how they did the camoflage trick. I thought I got it, and I tried it out last night on a rock I picked up off the ground over there," she indicated a far corner of the tent. "It looked like it worked, so I figured I'd try it on this. It didn't occur to me to save the rock, so I have no idea which one it was, and whether it's visible now or not. Based on how the tents seem to work, I'd guess it's permanent." "Wow, we should go on field trips more often," said Ross, trying to inject some humor into the situation. He was feeling very uncomfortable with the whole scenario. He really didn't want to beat some poor elf to a pulp, and he wanted even less to discover that half of the pressure-points on an elf *did* in fact correspond to points on a human. Moon laughed drily. "Next time, I want signed permission slips before the field trip." Ross laughed too, and they lapsed into thoughtful silence. CHAPTER "Ross Hansen," said Dawdin, opening the flap of the tent, "The time is now." "Can Moon come with me?" Ross looked back at his wife, who was holding the purple water bottle, trying not to wring it nervously in her hands. "Of course. She must not interfere, though." "No, I won't," said Moon, looking back and forth between the tall, sallow elf, and her comparatively short and stocky husband. Dawdin left the tent, and just before they exited, Ross leaned back to Moon and asked, for the fourth time, "You're sure that doesn't radiate magic or whatever?" meaning the potion bottle. Moon whispered back, "No, but it's our only chance. They wouldn't use it on their tents if it was easy to sense." She'd explained several times before that she could tell it was there, but she knew what she was looking for. In any case, she'd said, it didn't seem to be very strong, and she was guessing that they'd be on the lookout for overt magic. They proceeded out of the tent, anxious that they not appear to be conspiring by dawdling too long. The circle, where they'd met queen Kho this morning and entered into this madness, was surrounded by all the elves of the camp, as far as Ross could tell. There was a low murmur of conversation as he walked into sight, wearing only his breeches. Ross scanned the gathered faces, but couldn't tell if the slave who'd approached them last night was there or not. He stepped into the circle, and the murmuring ceased. He could see Kho, standing across the circle from him, her eyes narrowed, a look of intense dislike on her face. In front of her stood an elf who looked similar to all the others, although his hair was tied back into a complicated-looking plait, hanging most of the way to his waist. Ross briefly wondered if that could be considered a weapon, but decided not to press the point. He held up his hand, and said, "Hold." Forty elven faces turned to look at him. "First I will see my son. There is no challenge unless my son is alive and well." Kho looked behind her, and motioned. The circle parted, and there stood Gerrard, holding hands with an elf who looked impossibly tall in comparison to the little boy. He had a glazed expression on his face, and didn't seem to recognize Moon or Ross. Moon made a half-gasp, half-yelp noise, and Ross grabbed her hand as she took a step forward. "Not now," he said quietly. She nodded, and stepped back. "My son appears to be enchanted. A condition of the challenge was that he be alive and well. [note to self, update challenge] I will not continue until he recognizes his parents. Release the enchantment!" Scowling again, Kho gestured over Gerrard's head, making a motion of drawing off a covering. Suddenly, his face came to life, and he called out "Mommy!" Ross restrained Moon again, although his heart ached to see his son again. Moon was trembling, but stayed by Ross's side. He looked at her and waited until she looked back. She nodded, acknowledging that she would follow her part, but her glance strayed quickly back to Gerrard, who was looking in wonderment at all the elves gathered in the circle. "Are you satisfied now, human?" Kho's face burned with unrestrained hatred now. Ross nodded. He couldn't remember if there was a formal response or not, so he restrained himself to nodding. It seemed to suffice. Dawdin stepped into the center of the circle, between the two combatants, and motioned them forward. Ross and the elf approached. Suddenly, he heard Moon croak out, "Water!" behind him. He turned to look, and she was walking uncertainly forward, the purple water bottle held in her outstretched hand. Kho dashed around the circle to see past the challengers, and screamed, "Hold!" Everyone froze. She strode stiffly over to Moon, and said, "Let me see that! No assistance is allowed! This is the color of magic!" She seized the bottle from Moon's unresisting hand, and, after a moment's fumbling with the unfamiliar design, unscrewrd the lid, jamming it up to her nose. She took a sip of the liquid inside, glaring balefully at Moon the whole time. She lowered the bottle, then spat the water she'd tasted on the ground. "Give him his tainted water, if you want, wench. Only an uncivilized human would drink raw water." She shoved the uncapped bottle back at Moon, who nearly fumbled it, but caught it by the tethered lid before it dropped to the ground. Kho stalked back to her place on the opposite side of the circle as Dawdin called, "Back to your places!" The elf champion turned and walked back to his side of the circle, and Ross followed suit after a moment of uncertainty. Moon turned to follow him, and Ross had to struggle not to stare at the bottle, as she presumably dumped the camoflaged potion into it. Back at his spot, Moon handed him the plastic bottle, and gave the faintest contraction around her eyes, which gave Ross the impression that she'd been successful. He accepted it, and drank the entire contents, which tasted odd and dried out his mouth, as if it contained witch hazel or some similar drying compound. Dawdin stepped back to the center when he saw Ross hand the bottle back to Moon. The elf looked at Ross as if to ask if he was ready. Ross nodded, and Dawdin beckoned him forward. Ross and the elf champion came forward. Ross noticed that he was also clad in breeches, and wondered if the rule about fighting naked wouldn't be enforced. However, the first thing Dawdin said was, "The rules of the challenge stipulate that you will fight unclothed, to ensure no hidden weapons. Please disrobe." He waited while Ross and the elf shucked off their pants, until they were both standing entirely unclothed. Ross couldn't help looking: elves were built much along the same lines as humans. Ross was gradually becoming aware that something was changing. Everything seemed to be moving slower, and he realized the potion must be taking effect. The slave-elf had said it only lasted a few minutes, and Ross suddenly wondered whether that was a few minutes of his time, or of external time -- it was becoming clear that his view of the world was running on a different time scale now. "You have both agreed previously to the terms of this challenge. Do you affirm that you understand the rules, and agree to be bound by them?" The words sounded drawn-out. Dawdin slowly looked to each of them in turn. The elf nodded, as did Ross, trying to match the elf's speed. He didn't want to tip his hand early. Ross glanced around at the circle. Everyone was moving slowly, and sound seemed to have all shifted an octave down in pitch. In the distance, he could see blue sparkles, although whether that was really there, or if it was just his vision, he couldn't be sure. Ross swiveled his head around as he heard Dawdin inhale, and step back slowly. His words came out slowly: "Ffffiiiiiigggggghhhhhttttt!" He slowly backed out of the circle and joined the other elves, who had erupted into a basso roar. CHAPTER The elf lunged forward, his hair flying improbably backward. He couldn't be moving that fast, could he? Ross stepped easily out of the way of the charging elf, and flung his right hand forward, connecting with the elf's windpipe. He gagged for a moment, but spun around to face Ross again quickly. Ross found that he didn't want to actually attack the elf. It seemed unfair, now. The elf was moving as if through mollasses. Ross didn't feel like anything had changed in him, but obviously something had. He glanced back to look at Gerrard, who had a slow-motion expression of horror on his face, presumably at seeing his father, unclothed, fighting an elf. Ross's gaze shifted to look at Kho, whose eyes had gone wide. He guessed that she now suspected something was amiss, and lunged at the approaching elf, landing a speedy right hook to his jaw. Ross's fist exploded in pain, but the elf was flung backwards, stumbling slowly to the ground. Before he even landed, Ross kicked down at him, producing a sickening deep crunching sound from the elf's left leg. Ross glanced back at the elf queen, who had produced a long, thin object, which Ross suspected was a knife. It glinted in the afternoon sunlight, confirming his suspicions. He glanced back at the elf champion, who was grimly getting back to his feet, supported by his right leg. His left thigh was bent where it should never bend, and Ross realized he'd broken the elf's femur. Ross looked back at the queen, who was raising the knife preparatory to stabbing, and lunging towards Gerrard. He ran toward Kho, knocking her knife arm aside. It too made a sour crunch. It was oddly heavy, as if her mass had increased somehow due to the potion. The knife tumbled slowly out of her hand, and Ross yanked his hand out of the way, just avoiding the blade as it swung around. He looked back toward the champion, and saw that he was charging at Ross, his face set in a grim expression. Each step on his left leg left him oddly out of balance, but he was still moving like a slow-motion freight train at Ross. Charged with adrenaline and anger, Ross was having no more. He was no longer scared, no longer concerned with fairness. The mad queen had tried to kill his son, and Ross was ready to rip the head off any elf who approached him. His vision clouded with red: an effect he'd heard of, but never experienced before. A detached corner of his mind commented, "I always thought that was a metaphorical description." Ross put out his hand, catching the charging elf by the throat, and lifted. The elf's expression changed to one of surprise as he was picked up off the ground. Ross put his other hand in the elf's stomach, and continued the motion through, lifting the tall slender being entirely off the ground, and over Ross's head. Ross strained, almost without thinking, against the inertia of the elf in his hands, and turned him slightly, so that, as he came over the top of his arc and started down, he was plunging straight toward the queen. Ross's teeth gritted and he strained against the elf again, trying to speed him up, as if he were swinging an axe to split firewood. The elf champion crumpled into the queen, and they both collapsed slowly to the ground, gangly arms and legs going in every direction. Ross's head was whipped to the side by something, and he felt an impact a moment after he noticed the world was whipping past his eyes. Suddenly, the ground was rushing at him, and then everything went dark. CHAPTER There was noise. Loud noise. Confused. Ross opened his eyes, and saw Moon's face, close to his, her good eye scanning over his face. He realized that one of the sounds he was hearing was like her voice, slowly saying, "Ross!? Ross!?" It was wrong, though, too deep. He tried to sit up, but had to jerk to a stop when Moon's face didn't get out of the way fast enough. She moved slowly back, and he sat up. All around him was chaos. Elven bodies moved in every direction. Many hands seemed to be carrying swords or knives. Moon slowly turned her head to look fearfully at the surrounding elves. Ross's rage returned, as he remembered where he was and what was going on. Everyone was moving slowly, so it seemed his potion was still in effect. He stood up, his head still throbbing from whatever had hit him, although this primairly served to make him more angry. An elf lurched toward him, raising a sword as if to strike at Ross. He stepped in close to the elf, to the inside of the sword's reach, and punched upward, lifting the elf off his feet via his chin. Ross's hand throbbed angrily at him, but he ignored the pain. He twirled around and grabbed the sword, which had started tumbling to the ground. The elf fell back, his eyes closed from the blow. Spinning with the weirdly heavy sword in his hand, Ross looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. It was difficult to understand, since everyone was moving so slowly that he had to concentrate on them for several seconds before he could make out their intentions. In his adrenaline-heightened state, several seconds was far too long to concentrate on any one thing. He ran over to where Gerrard was standing, looking fearfully up at the chaos of moving bodies and roaring around him. Ross scooped up the little boy (again, oddly heavy), and dropped the sword, which was just slowing him down. He slowly spun around, suddenly mindful that he couldn't whip his son around without causing damage. He spotted Moon, who was crouching amid the rioting elves, although none of them seemed to pay her any attention. He strode toward Moon, fighting the urge to run with the bizarre weight of Gerrard in his arms. It wasn't that the child weighed more than he should, Ross realized, it was that he had far more inertia than he should for how much he seemed to weigh. He reached Moon, and held out his hand. She took it with agonizing slothfulness, and Ross had to resist the urge to jerk her to her feet. She stood, and he said, "Let's go!" She nodded, and they turned back to their tent. The elves seemed to be paying no attention to them now, rioting around where the queen and champion had been. Ross bent down, and retrieved his breeches from the ground. He glanced back at the sword he'd dropped on the ground, but decided that leaving was a better choice than grabbing things he might not need. They reached their tent an agonizingly long time later, by Ross's perception, and ducked inside. He quickly pulled on his pants, nearly ripping through them in his haste. They too seemed to have too much inertia. Moon slowly shoved their few possessions back into the packs. Gerrard, who Ross had set down, padded over to his mother, and hugged her leg, his face contorted and red from crying. She slowly bent down and picked him up, tears welling up in her eyes. She nuzzled his neck, and gently set him down on the bed as she slung her pack back up on her back. Ross had gathered his few things, which all moved with agonizing slowness as he tried to hurry them along at what seemed to him like a natural, if frantic, pace. Finally, after what seemed like an endless span of time, they had everything gathered up. Ross still had no weapons to speak of, but his potion also didn't seem to have worn off yet. He was distracted from this concern a moment later, when a tenor scream from Moon made him spin and face the door, where an angry-looking elf was entering. Ross rushed him, evading a slow swipe of the fairytale creature's sword, and plunged his fist into the elf's gut. The elf slowly doubled over, and Ross raised his knee into his opponent's crotch, hoping this would have the same effect on an elf that it did on a human. It seemed to, and the elf dropped to the ground, curling into a tight ball. Ross retrieved the fallen elf's sword, and turned back to Moon and Gerrard. Moon looked scared, and Gerrard was clinging to his mother's leg, hiding his face from the fight. Ross waved them forward, trying to slow his motions down so they'd be visible. He was afraid he might be doing things so fast his movements were hard to see. Moon started forward, picking up Gerrard as she did. Ross pressed through the resistant fabric of the tent, peripherally aware of a ripping noise as the fabric gave way. He glanced around, but there was little to see. Right at their tent, there was no one around, but he could hear cacophony off toward the circle where he'd last seen Kho. They slowly skirted around, behind the elvish tents, trying to avoid attracting any attention. Ross felt like running forward to scout the way, but didn't want to leave his family alone. He could tell that Moon was running, and tried to calm himself down. It was like running in a dream, except that in this dream, everyone else was running through mollasses, and he was the only one not paralyzed. They cleared the camp, and moved down to the riverbank, which was more of a trickle right now. No one seemed to be following them, but Ross kept glancing back. Now, he was afraid that the potion would wear off before they were out of this situation, and he'd be reduced to a mere human again. It was almost addictive, how quickly he could move in relation to the elves around him. The valley opened out in front of them as they moved, and they jogged to the right, to the north, as soon as they could reasonably climb the slope. Moon kept begging Gerrard to be quiet, although he obviously wanted to cry. They scrambled up the slope, Ross trying not to lead them by too much. He kept glancing back, but no one seemed to be following them from the Kho'loc base. There was still a chaotic noise coming from the encampment, punctuated by unison shouts, as if they were a crowd at a boxing match, reacting to each punch. Ross realized he was breathing hard, and slowed down. Moon caught up to him, Gerrard in her arms, his face unhappy, but looking less like he would start crying at any moment. Ross grinned at Moon, and a cautious smile crossed her face. Ross threw his arms around his wife and son, and hugged them close. He felt hot tears burning down his face. CHAPTER The journey back was less difficult in some ways, and more difficult in others. They retraced their route, lacking sufficient information to comfortably wander into uncharted wilderness. This meant they had a chance to visit Stephen Gould again, in his stony keep. "Stephen!" Ross called up, setting Gerrard down as he did so. The tower stood resolute and tall, much as they'd remembered, although something seemed different. Moon took up Gerrard's hand, and walked slowly around the tower, pointing out the windows, and how there were no windows below the 20 foot window they'd entered through before. Gerrard seemed interested for a minute, but his attention quickly wandered, following a dragonfly as it flitted by. Ross drew in a breath to call again, when Stephen's face poked out of the top-floor window, looking as though he might start yelling as he had last time. "Oh!" he said, instead, "It's you! Hold on, I'll be right down." Moon picked up Gerrard and hurried over. Ross looked around for Hawkeye, who'd rejoined them shortly after they'd departed the Kho'loc camp. The little dog had been sniffing at a clump of weeds, but looked up and trotted over to join Ross and Moon. Stephen appeared in the lowest window, apparently wearing the exact same purple stars-and-moons robe he'd been wearing when they first met him. He kicked down the rope ladder, and descended to meet them. "Hello, again, Ross, Moon. This must be Gerrard. Hello." The older man solemnly shook Gerrard's hand. For his part, Gerrard looked uncomfortably away, unsure how to react. He hadn't met many strangers in his short life. "So," said Stephen, straightening back up, "You appear to have been successful. I had a feeling you might be." "Oh," said Ross, curious. "Oh yes, I was following along. I... wasn't spying, exactly, but I was able to scry with that signal mirror I gave you. It was more interesting than what I was doing." He gave them a sheepish look, but Ross found that far from being upset, he was relieved to know that someone else had been aware of what happened. Moon slapped her head, and said, "The signal mirror! I completely forgot I had that." "Yes, I wondered if you might try to call me after the siren. I missed the beginning of your healing magic, but it sounded most impressive." He looked at Ross, and said, "There was little to see, you must understand. I assume the mirror was down in a bag somewhere, so the visual component of the spell was of whatever dark place it had been placed. But I could hear most of what was happening." Stephen looked between Ross and Moon, and down at Hawkeye. He said, "Would you like to come up? I can have some tea ready for you in short order, and I daresay we could put together an excellent early dinner." Ross and Moon exchanged a glance, and nodded in perfect unison. "That'd be great," said Ross. With a number of trips up and down the rope ladder, they got everyone up into the tower. Stephen motioned, and the ladder carefully coiled itself back up inside the window. Several hours later, having satisfied their hunger and thirst, they sat around the upper floor of the tower, recounting their adventure so far. Stephen ate it up, commenting at one point, "This is far better than television, you know." Moon described the bizarre sight of her husband after taking the potion of speed, seeming to move in a constant blur, as if in fast-forward. Ross couldn't help chuckling, and added his own commentary about the bizarre nature of mass and inertia when moving faster than should be possible. "But what happened to the elves?" Stephen looked between the two of them with intense curiosity. Next to Moon, Gerrard played with a toy dragon Stephen had swiftly modeled out of wood, using a flashy magical carving technique that showered blue and green sparks around the room. Ross looked at Moon, who'd seen events unfolding in real-time, rather than Ross's difficult-to-interpret slow-motion. She said, "I'm not sure. When Kho pulled out that knife, I thought I might faint. I didn't, though, because as quickly as she pulled it out, Ross sped over and knocked it out of her hand. I think he broke her arm. Their champion rushed him, but Ross put him down so quickly that I only have his word for what actually happened. It looked like the elf tripped, but fell up instead of down. Then Ross fell, and I rushed over to him. He woke up again a second later, and we grabbed Gerrard and took off. "In between all that, all I could tell is that there was a crowd gathered around Kho, and they didn't sound happy. But there seemed to be another group defending her, and it seemed like one big brawl. There were swords clanging, and screaming, it was just chaos. I have a feeling that the more honorable elves were attacking her for threatening Gerrard, while the ones who held more alliegance to Kho were defending her. None of them were speaking English any more, or if they were, I couldn't understand any of it." Ross took up the narration. "We ran, as quickly as we could. Well, as quickly as they could," he smiled. "I had to keep slowing down so I didn't outrun them. One elf tried to intercept us in the tent, but I was still moving too fast, and disarmed him. That's how I got this," and Ross pulled out the finely detailed elven sword. It was about two and a half feet long, with a slender, flowing, leaf-shaped blade and an undersized crossbar above the handle. He handed it carefully to Stephen, who took it and held it up. "It's so light!" he exclaimed. He squinted at the blade, then looked up. "Is this whole thing inscribed?" "Yep. I have no idea what it says, though. Can you read elvish?" "No. But... it's amazing, it's like Tolkein was channeling the truth about elves! This script looks exactly like what he put in his books." "Maybe he was," said Moon. "I've been thinking while on this trip, and I suspect that magic interacted with the pre-Change world more than we think it did. Either it affected us, or we affected it. There are too many things that are just like people wrote about or filmed or whatever. It's got to be a real influence, this can't all be coincidental." "You may be right," said Stephen. "That's amazing. Here's hoping you never, ever have to use it." "You can say that again," said Ross. "There was a point during that fight where I stopped being myself. I look back at what I did, and I just can't believe it. I mean, I can, because I did it. But it doesn't seem real. I understand the berzerker rage better now, and I never want to get near it again." He took the elegant blade and set it behind them, out of his sight. "So," said Stephen, "you don't really know what happened?" "Not really," said Ross. "They didn't send anyone after us, so if there were two factions in the fight, the one that was on our side probably won. Hopefully that means that Kho is either dead or out of the picture. I wish I knew for sure... If she's still around, that means that someone else will be losing a child at some point, and have to go through all this again. I'm not the one who's going to go make sure, though." Moon interrupted, "We've got magical protection on Gerrard now, so it will be nearly impossible for this to happen again. Even if it does, I set him up so he glows like a beacon, but only to me." Stephen's eyes flicked to Gerrard, and he emitted a faint, "Huh." Gerrard looked up, sensing the attention on him. He held up the dragon happily, and made a roaring noise, tapping its snout against Moon's shoulder. Moon smiled to see her son so happy. "Well, let's hope," said Stephen, "that she's gone. Pity we don't know for sure." His gaze shifted to Moon. "Did you try sensing her after that?" "Yeah, I searched whenever we stopped to make camp. I was mostly looking for someone following us, but I never found anyone. I could feel the Kho'loc further away, but I couldn't tell if she was among them or not. I assume not, because her madness should have made her stand out." "Well, maybe she really is gone then," said Stephen, but he didn't sound convinced. "Hopefully, we'll never have to find out for sure. Speaking of mad queen Kho'loc, I wanted to give this back to you," said Ross, pulling the amulet out of his pocket, and offering it to Stephen. Stephen held up his hand in a "stop" gesture, and said, "Not a worry. I made up a new one shortly after you left. That's one of the joys of living on three ley lines, there's no shortage of power around when you get a project in mind." He held up his hand, and wiggled his index finger, which sported a crude silver ring. "I bound it into this ring, which doesn't look like it's worth much, because it's not. But it does about what your amulet does, only better and more effectively. Fortunately," he said, reading the sudden suspicion in Ross's face, "It doesn't have much effect if you're already positively disposed towards me." He grinned, and lowered his hand. "In any case," continued Stephen, "I'm very glad you made it through all that. How will you get home? Walk again?" Moon shrugged, and said, "What other choice do we have?" Stephen grinned mischeviously, and said, "How do you feel about flying?" EPILOGUE Gerrard stepped into the dimness of the thatched farmhouse. He'd grown up into a dark-haired lad of 14, taller than either of his parents. He had passed through puberty without any metamorphosis, to their delight. It had been a silently-held fear, and once his voice had changed, they'd shared their now-unfounded fears with him. He'd grinned in his lopsided way, and said, "That explains *so* much." "Dad?" he called. Ross sat up from the bed, where he'd been napping lightly after lunch. "Yeah, Gerry, what's up? Did school get out early?" He emerged from the little bedroom they all shared, squinting into the afternoon light. "Hey, Ms. Griffin says you need to sign this," he waved a piece of paper, which made a crinkling noise. "Oh, right, the field trip. You're all packed, right? Seattle is a strange place, it's nothing like here." He took the little piece of paper, and unscrewed his ink bottle. He dipped his quill, shook off the excess ink, and muttered to himself, "I can't believe they're wasting perfectly good paper on permission slips." Gerrard grinned at his father, and said, "'Some things never change,'" pitching his voice so it was clear he was quoting. "Yeah, I know. I just figured that now, we could just go do things without having to get permission." "C'mon dad," said Gerrard with exasperation in his voice, "you know what old man Farnsworth did after Jeanie almost drowned at the river. They thought he was gonna burn the school down." Ross grimaced. "Jeez," he said, "don't call him 'old man Farnsworth.' The guy's younger than I am." Gerrard tried not to let the smirk show on his face, then said, "Sorry dad." He grabbed up the paper, and waved it. "Thanks! See you guys next week!" "Don't smudge the ink!" called Ross after his son. "It's still wet!" Gerrard ran off down towards town, and Ross stood in the doorway, leaning against the sill. Moon walked up to him, her knees and hands covered in dirt. "What was that about?" she said. Ross rolled his eyes dramatically, and said, "*Someone* forgot to get a permission slip signed before the field trip to Seattle." He grinned, but it was hard to see his only child disappearing for a week. It would be the longest time they'd been separated since that whole elf incident. Moon, seeming to read his mind, put her arm around him, and said, "He's a good kid. He'll be alright." Ross thought he could sense a certain reservation in her as well. "Of course he is," said Ross. They kissed briefly, then turned to watch the little dust plume that marked their son's progress towards town. END