By the time Alice woke me, she was fully dressed and had breakfast from Dunkin sitting on my nightstand. She was sitting next to me, drinking her coffee, and poking me until I rolled over.

“What time is it?” I muttered. She looked over at the clock on my dresser.

“Almost noon,” she said. I groaned and pulled myself up to sit against the wall, and she handed me a chai and a bag. “Today is a workout day for you, right?”

“Uh, yeah, why?”

“I want to try something. Tell me, have you ever worked out with someone else? Like at a gym or something?”

“Jackie has hung out and chatted while I was lifting,” I answered, fishing out some hashbrowns from the bag.

“No, I mean, where they were also working out and you could tell how much weight they were lifting. Have you ever spotted someone?”

“Oh. No. Why, you want to get in on it?”

“No, I was just wondering if you had a frame of reference for what people your size and weight generally can lift.”

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“I have!” She hopped off the bed, set the coffee down, and rested her hands on her hips. “You know those tables you moved in the Hudson library normally take two men with some equipment to lift and move?” I shook my head. “I have a theory about this, but I need actual numbers.”

“And that means you need to monitor my workout routine?”

“Not just your workout routine. I need you to push yourself. I need your actual limits. You think you’re up for that today?”

“I’m not up for much of anything until I’ve eaten this sandwich.”

“You and I both know that’s not true,” she said with a wry smile. I chuckled.

“Okay, well. I’m not up for anything outside of this bed until I’ve had my breakfast.” She sat back down and grabbed a second bag, from which she produced another sandwich for herself.

“That’s fine. When you’re ready, we’ll head downstairs. I already have a clipboard with my notes on it waiting there.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Just eat your food.”

It was the weirdest workout I’ve ever had. Dad had, of course, been present when he was teaching me how to do it, and Alice herself sometimes hung around and occasionally her and Jackie would trade commentary, but this was the first time anyone actively checked every single thing I did and checked my heart rate between things and wrote stuff down and sometimes made thoughtful noises without telling me what the hell she was doing. Jackie found the whole thing fascinating, and made a point to hang around and occasionally look over Alice’s shoulder and whisper something to her, which sometimes elicited another thoughtful noise from Alice and more notes. It was, frankly, hard to concentrate with all that going on. I did what she asked, and pushed myself on certain exercises to see where my limit was, and when I was finally done she told me she needed to check and finalize her notes while I got a shower and we could talk afterward. So I went to do that, and when I was done she and Jackie were sitting in the living room waiting for me.

“So,” I said, sitting down and lighting a smoke, “what’s the verdict?”

“Okay, so first off, you lift way more than you should be able to,” Alice said. “I mean, okay, so this isn’t my specialty within biology, but I’ve been looking up numbers for comparison. And there are different classes of ability one can have in weightlifting, so I’m using the ‘advanced’ numbers for you since you’ve been at this for a while.”

“Uh huh. And?”

“And you’re generally lifting much higher weights than those numbers! Your normal routine is almost twice as heavy as the standard for an advanced weightlifter of your size, and your limits are similar.”

“This was all related to a theory, I thought you said.”

“Yes! Okay, so I don’t know if I can account for it physically. I’d have to do a whole battery of tests to be certain about that, but your muscles aren’t more defined and don’t seem more dense than someone with more standard numbers.”

“What are you basing that on?”

“I know what your body feels like, dear. But the point is, and I’d have to check some other factors to be certain, but I was talking to Jackie about the ontological gap, and I think what’s happening is that your spiritual aspect is so closely infused with your physical aspect that it grants you additional physical power. I’d like to compare these numbers to Benedict some time, since he should have more of his spiritual nature infused into his physical nature—”

“And Akshainie?”

“Well, no. I don’t know if Akshainie follows the same rules. She’s a naga, her physical form is generated by her own magic, so it wouldn’t necessarily follow the same biological structures, you know?”

“Nope.”

“Okay well I don’t think her results would help me understand the matter more because she’s fundamentally not human, even when she looks human.”

“Okay.”

“Well!” Jackie said, slapping her knees and then standing. “It’s about time for me to head to work. You two have fun! I’d love to hear more about this when you have more data!” And then she was gone, and Alice was putting her notes aside.

“So what now?”

“Oh, nothing,” Alice said. “I’ll have to determine my testing parameters and what specifically I need to do to see if my theory is correct, which I’m not going to do now.”

“Oh, alright. You wanna go out or something, then?”

“No.” She leaned back, crossed her legs, and rested her hands on her knee. “I want you to tell me about Lori and Hecate.”

I finished my shower and spent a little time checking my hair at the mirror before wrapping the towel around myself and heading down the hall to my room. When I passed the top of the stairs, I could hear Jackie and Alice chatting downstairs. I didn’t know Alice was here already, and made a mental note to hurry up a bit instead of leaving her waiting. She’d been a bit tense ever since England, and I was looking forward to taking her out to the St. Pat’s celebrations downtown with some friends. Hopefully a night of not thinking would help put her at ease. I entered my room and closed the door to find the woman from the alley island, naked, sprawled out on my bed.

“Didn’t you try this already?” I asked, walking past her to open my closet and look for a suitably green shirt.

“I was curious if it was really that useless. Maybe if circumstances were different, if you would react differently.”

“Hecate, was it?” I asked, grabbing a shirt and tossing it beside her on the bed as I went to my dresser. “If that was your goal, you should have tried it when my girlfriend wasn’t sitting downstairs waiting for me.”

“You know full well I can give us all the time in the world,” she said, standing up as a robe materialized on her. “Which I have done, by the way.” I looked at her for a moment, then out the window, where I saw a bird frozen in mid-flight.

“You like recycling your tricks.”

“I like not being rushed by mortals who think their agendas are more important than the will of a god.”

“I guess I could see where you’d get that.” I dropped the towel and grabbed a pair of boxers from the dresser. Hecate straightened up and took a sharp breath. “Oh don’t play coy now,” I groaned, pulling on the underwear and kneeling down to grab some pants from the lowest drawer.

“Is my presence such little concern for you?”

“I am a mortal with an agenda, remember.”

“John Matteson, I would remind you that I am offering you incredible power—”

“Yeah, yeah, power to stand even against gods.” I put on an undershirt and tucked it in before securing my pants. “I decided to start with you.” I brushed past her to grab my shirt, and she grabbed my shoulder and squeezed. It stung, but I refused to show that to her.

“You do not want me as an enemy, Anchor. I can make your life very painful.”

“Why? You think you have some right to boss me around?”

“I have every right!” she screamed, spinning me to face her. I met her gaze and silently slipped my shirt on as she continued. “I am the goddess of liminal beings! You are under my purview, your very existence hinges on my favor, and you dare question what authority I have to command your use of my gifts?”

“If you can take my power away, then do it.” I stood with my arms out, waiting, as she glared at me. “No?” I finally asked. She growled. “I think this story’s a bit more complicated than you want me to believe. And I think you need me more than I need you. Now, as for tonight?” I brought my hands together in a loud clap, focusing all my energy on it, and heard it ripple through the house. Hecate’s robe blew as if in a wind, and the air crackled, and the bird outside my window resumed its flight. “I have somewhere to be.” I turned away from her and reached for the door.

“Mark my words. You will have me, John Matteson, or you will have no one.”

“Next time, you should try something new. I’d be curious what you have to offer besides sex and parlor tricks.” I opened the door and headed downstairs.

The damage to the house was significant, especially in the kitchen, but it would have been far worse if the building hadn’t been made of stone. It was exhausting to even make Kastor visible to the bishop, so I didn’t bother doing it again when I thanked Kastor for his help and let him run back to whatever he was doing. I insisted on not knowing what that was. The bishop wanted to have a long chat about the nature of the supernatural, but I was antsy about getting back to check on Alice, so we gave him a very brief overview and reminded him about the Hudsons as specialists and I gave him my number before we left. On the way, though, Akshainie insisted we make one more stop, and I could hardly deny the request.

So I called Alice and she confirmed that everyone was back, and that she was okay, though she really sounded shaken. I didn’t press. But with assurance that it wouldn’t be a problem for anyone currently fighting, Akshainie and I made our way through the security checks and back to the locus I had silenced. She believed she could cleanse it now that the cult wasn’t actively using it, after I opened it again. I didn’t know how to open it again, I warned her, but she asked if I had known how to close it and I had to admit I didn’t until I tried. So she was comfortable assuming I would figure it out.

When we got to the locus, she stayed behind at the entrance of the chamber to give me room to work. We weren’t sure what was going to happen, but she wasn’t comfortable being close to me while I’m using a lot of energy to undo something magical.

“I doubt I would do anything very harmful to you,” I pointed out.

“Tell that to the Hudson estate,” she replied. There really wasn’t much argument to be made there.

So I went back to the center of the locus and focused, trying to feel what I had done to the flow of energy. It took a few moments, but I was able to identify that the locus was essentially an antimagic dam now, functionally blocking and absorbing all the energy that was coming to it. And it felt like me. I can’t really explain it, but the sense of interacting with it almost felt like interacting with my own arm or something. Whatever I had done here, I think I had left a piece of myself behind, and that was what was actually cutting off the locus. So all I had to do was take my piece back, right?

How do you even do that?

It took about a half hour of me trying things, and Akshainie giving her input, and me trying something else, before I finally felt like I’d connected with the blockage. And then it was a few minutes of focus and pulling and willing the locus to open before I was knocked on my back by a sudden tidal wave of magical energy and an audible popping sound. Akshainie rushed past me to the locus point, by now in her naga form, and wrapped her coils around the center of the site as she started her invocation. I dusted myself off and walked out of the chamber, to make sure I didn’t cause her any issues, and made my way back to the car. I made it through half a cigarette while leaning on the car before she came into view, human guise up, looking tired.

“You okay? Did it work?” I asked when she practically fell into the side of the car, leaning next to me.

“Let me get one of those,” she said. So I pulled out my pack and gave her a smoke and a light.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t usually. And I rarely smoke whatever the hell these are. But we have something similar in Iravati.”

“Lung cancer not a big concern for you, then?”

“I don’t have lungs. What’s your excuse?”

“I have it on good authority that won’t be what kills me,” I said. She grunted, and we both stayed there for a quiet moment.

“It worked,” she finally said. “Thank you.”

​“Of course.” With that, she handed me the rest of her cigarette and walked around the car, I took a drag off it and then climbed in to take us back to the estate.

The initial strike wasn’t quite what we expected.

We were so used to the cult’s reliance on magic that we weren’t even thinking about the possibility of them using mundane means. Thankfully, between having noticed movement outside and Akshainie’s preternatural reflexes, she was in position to stop the first bullet from hitting the bishop.

“I need my armor!” she called as we all hit the floor, her arm bleeding where the shot had hit. I grabbed the bishop and shoved him out of the room. We ran down the hall and I heard shots begin and things in the kitchen breaking, hopeful most of that noise was Akshainie taking on her larger and more well-defended form. We made our way through the stone house, avoiding windows as much as possible, until we found a secure room to wait. I waited by the door, clenching my fists and trying to think through my options.

“That woman!” he cried, pacing behind me. “Oh God, she’s probably dead and they’re on their way to kill us…”

“She’s fine,” I said, “ Akshainie can handle her own. Now shut up before they find you.”

“You came to protect me, surely you have a gun or something?”

“I don’t carry a gun.”

“But you’re an American!”

“I’m a black American. I decided having a gun wasn’t worth the hassle of being seen with a gun.”

“Then what do we do?”

“What you do is shut up! Let me try something.” I closed my eyes and thought hard about what I’d learned concerning my relationship to the Metaphysical Realm. If what I actually did was set the rules in a given place, maybe I could use that somehow? I quickly considered and dismissed a handful of ideas before I settled on one that seemed worth a shot. I focused, I tried really hard to define my space, to make something specific true of the area that hadn’t been true a moment before.

“What the hell is this?” Kastor demanded. I opened my eyes and looked down at him.

“It worked!”

“What worked?” the bishop asked. I held up a finger, telling him to wait, and he grunted and slumped into a chair.

“Did you summon me?” Kastor asked, hands on his hips. “I didn’t think you could do that!”

“I think I get to decide what I can do, within reason.”

“This isn’t within reason! I was with this dryad, Johnny, you never saw—”

“Listen, this is important!” I grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a good shake. “There are cultists here trying to kill us and I’m not really armed to deal with them. Akshainie is out there alone right now. Can you get her some backup?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! Whoever’s around, get them to help her stop the cultists!”

“Why would they do that?” he asked, pushing my hands off him.

“The cultists were corrupting the ley network.”

“They were?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why it’s so…weird, right now? It feels like it got fucked up.”

“It’s…related to that. I’ll explain later. Can you do this, or not?”

“Yeah, yeah, let me see what I can do. But you owe me big for this!”

“Are you talking to yourself!?” the bishop demanded. Kastor and I both looked at him.

“Oh for crying out loud, look,” I said. I shifted the rules a bit, and soon the bishop jumped up from his seat.

“Is that a demon!?”

“I’m a faun,” Kastor answered, before turning to me again. “You can make people see me?”

“Apparently!”

“I think I know how you’re going to pay me back for this.”

“I’m not paying you back for shit if you don’t get moving!”

Kastor grumbled as he ran off, and I slumped against the wall and held my head. It was starting to throb, and I considered the possibility I had pushed too much too quickly. The bishop was praying under his breath and trying to control the look of shock on his face, but I decided it was best to leave him to it. Pretty soon I heard thunder, and screaming, and then the door flew open and Akshainie, covered in small wounds and fully in her naga form, shoved her upper body in.

“There you are!” She said. “Are you aware there’s a small army of weather spirits and some kind of goat man killing the cultists?”

“I’m aware I owe the goat man one hell of a favor,” I answered.

“And what are you!?” the bishop screamed. Akshainie and I both looked at him.

“Busy!” she yelled, before slipping back out of the room and rushing down the hall. There was a brief burst of gunshots, which were quickly silenced. I shrugged.

​“She knows what she’s doing,” I said. “You should work on the way you introduce yourself to spirits.” He stared at me for a minute, then went back to praying as I closed the door.

The papers we brought back from the church indicated a complex plan, but we were aided in our study of it by some interrogation of the cultists we recovered. There were a few cells scattered around, and they were all going to attack in unison once they received a specific sign. Thankfully, we were able to work out the nature of that sign: the priest we captured was supposed to kill a specific bishop some time today, with the help of a different local cell, and when he sent off a message confirming the deed the others would strike.

Of course, the priest was in no condition to actually carry out that step of the plan or to alert the others to his situation, and they were unlikely to realize he was out of commission. Alice’s claim that he was connected to at least some of the cultists gave us some pause, but we determined that with the ley network’s disruption it would take them longer to check on him than it would take us to act. So we set out.

Alice was left in Melinda’s care after she barely stopped me from ripping Michael to shreds for putting Alice in danger. She promised she would have words with him herself, and I trust that was why he was pulled aside as soon as our plan was made and I didn’t see him before we left in the morning. ‘We’ being Akshainie and me. We were tasked with protecting the bishop at any cost today, to ensure the signal to strike never went out. Meanwhile, Benedict and Michael would round up the cultists from the other cells, who should be gathered nice and tight in their positions.

We arrived at the bishop’s house early, and he greeted us and welcomed us in for breakfast. He had been told we were coming, but was given little more than that, so we roughly explained the situation and showed him our papers from the Hudsons confirming our work was under the auspices of the crown. But there was no activity while we were eating, so Akshainie made her way to an upper floor to watch for movement outside as I escorted the bishop in his duties. We made our way to his study, where he was planning to carry out a period of study. When we got there, he asked me about my faith, and I confessed that while I had a generally Christian understanding of the ultimate afterlife, thanks to my grandmother, my own relationship with the supernatural was a bit too complicated to fit into any religions I’d yet encountered. He pressed for more information on that, and while I hedged my answers a bit to avoid giving away too much detail about myself, we spent the next few hours talking about ghosts, natural spirits, and my function as an Anchor. He seemed fascinated by the idea, but was insistent that all of what I was saying could be explained with a Christian understanding of the mystical side of reality. I entertained his theories, but remained unconvinced.

​I was growing antsy, and the increasing frequency of Akshainie poking in to check on us suggested she was, as well. But nothing was happening, and the bishop began urging her to stay and explain her experience of the supernatural. He didn’t know she was a naga, of course, and we didn’t tell him, but she did finally sit down and begin talking about Hinduism until we all returned to the kitchen for lunch. It was there, while we were cleaning up after eating, that we first noticed some movement in the shrubs outside.

I was already in the car and heading back for Alice when she called me. I glanced at the clock and realized I’d been away longer than we’d hoped, she was probably annoyed about sitting at the church waiting for me.

“Hey hon,” I said, answering the call on speaker. “Sorry about the delay, I—”

“The priest,” she gasped. My grasp on the steering wheel tightened at the pain in her voice. “It’s the priest. He’s in the cult.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’ll make it back to the estate if you can get here soon. He didn’t want to kill me, he wanted information.”

“Where are you now?” I listened as she described the area, a place we’d walked past the night before, and where she was hiding. I promised I’d be there as soon as I could, then hung up and punched the gas. I tore across England completely oblivious to any cops, and if they saw me they apparently didn’t think it worth the effort to stop me. Maybe the Hudson name on the plates helped with that, who knows. The whole ride was spent thinking about what I was going to do to that priest, and to Michael, when I had the chance.

The car screeched to a halt when I found the alley where Alice was hiding, and she limped out of the shadows and slipped into the passenger seat. Half her shirt and a part of her pants were burned off, exposing a large burn across her side. Once she was in and I was assured she was stable, I drove to the church. She insisted it was pointless, as he surely wouldn’t be there anymore, but I was barely listening. I had to try. I couldn’t risk not checking. She stayed in the locked car, parked a block away to avoid drawing attention to her, while I went inside to check. Sure enough, the doors to the office area was locked, and I kicked them off the hinges before storming through and tearing the place apart looking for any information. I found some records and notes that looked promising, and grabbed those, but the priest was clearly gone. Once I returned to the car, I gave the papers to Alice and made for the estate.

​As I was turning into the entrance of the estate, I saw a man walking with purpose, holding a notebook. Alice gasped and pressed herself back into the seat. I asked if that was the priest, and when she confirmed it was, I punched the gas again. He heard the noise of the engine, and turned just in time to see the car hit him. He was thrown off to the side, rolling over the corner of the hood, and I continued up the drive as Alice screamed. I slammed the brakes as we got to the building, set the parking brake, and jumped out without bothering to turn off the engine. The man was slowly getting to his feet, and on seeing me heading for him, he threw a fireball at me. I batted it away, hearing it fizzle out as soon as it left my hand, and neither slowed nor sped up as I approached him. His eyes grew large, and then he started to chant and I watched his form crack and shift, as his arms grew muscular and his body took on the form of a large serpent. I ripped my shirt off and tossed it aside, and we lunged at each other.

Michael wanted to send a driver with me, but I insisted I could handle it myself. I ultimately had to take a quick spin around his estate with him to prove I could adapt to driving on the other side of the road, but then he gave me use of a car and left with Benedict and Akshainie. I dropped Alice off at a church and made arrangements for me to pick her up, and then I was off.

The drive to the ritual site he’d originally found was pretty uneventful, just a pleasant drive through the British countryside and down some highway of theirs. I guess they’re probably not called interstates here, but it was basically that. I was largely operating from memory of how Michael drove us there, with an atlas on the passenger seat just in case.

I passed the security check-in with the new ID from Michael, declined an escort, and made my way down to the site. We had settled that this was a locus point, and apparently a key one for the network the Brood was using, so I was sent to shut it down. I wasn’t entirely sure about the plan; Jackie had been very adamant that while I could do things like this, it was unwise to do so, especially for any notable length of time. And I was certain Akshainie was going to flip if and when she figured out what had happened, and unlike Jackie, she’s nearby and armed and somewhat murderous.

So I had concerns.

But Michael had made it very clear that, as a designated protector of the Crown, he was prepared to fully flex his authority as our employer in this matter to see a swift and decisive conclusion to the threat of the Brood. And, really, the plan was one that seemed like it would work well. Effective in the same way dropping a nuke on a city was bound to clear up a rat problem at one of the local restaurants, sure, but effective. It feels irresponsible, what I’ve heard of loci suggests that there will be a ton of side effects from blocking one for even a short time, but he wouldn’t hear it.

​I walked to the center of the locus and sat down with my legs crossed, rested my palms on the floor in front of me, and closed my eyes. It was difficult enough last night trying to hold back the flow of energy along a ley line, this was going to be a hell of a thing to pull off. I focused on pressing down, exerting my will against the magical energy accumulating and passing beneath me, and could feel the tension as it pushed back. I pushed, and pushed, and soon felt almost weightless. Like the whole world had fallen away, and I was just suspended in the energy, which was trying to press in on me from every side. I was no longer pushing down, but out, trying to expand the area in which magic was stifled, fighting against a pressure that wanted to crush me. I felt it start to give, and I screamed as I made one last shove with all my will, and I felt the energy crack around me. The pressure exploded off me, and I felt gravity return, and opened my eyes just in time to see the ground rush back up to me. I rolled onto my back, holding my knee and swearing, until I started to feel a little better. I lit a cigarette and stared at the ceiling until it was gone, and felt nothing. There was no active energy in the locus anymore. Satisfied the task was done, I made my way back to the car and left to pick up Alice.

We were all called to breakfast, and after we’d eaten Michael had Benedict, Akshainie, Alice, and me stay behind and sent the staff out. Once we were alone, he stood and addressed us.

“They’re after the Church of England,” he announced. None of us visibly reacted to that and I got the impression he was a bit surprised at that. There was a moment of silence where he seemed to be processing it.

“So you got them to talk?” I asked. “How’d you do that?”

“Runic circle of truth.”

“That’s awfully convenient.”

“What did you learn about their plan?” Akshainie asked.

“Sadly, very little. They are waiting for a signal and are getting into position to attack both the crown and Canterbury.”

“So first step is to get more information,” Benedict said, rising from his seat. “If you could show me the way to this circle of truth—”

“The cultists are dead,” Michael said, flatly. Benedict stopped, then leaned forward with his palms on the table.

“I must request a bit more information on that one.”

“It appears to have been a defense against interrogation. Not unlike a poison pill, but in this case, a self-immolation spell.”

“Self-immolation,” I said, leaning back and crossing my arms.

​“We can discuss the matter more later. For now, we have a lot of work to do, and I think it would be best if we focused on that.” Michael looked around to each of us, and we grudgingly agreed. Michael produced identity cards he had made for each of us so we could split up and still operate with the authority of the estate, and included one for Alice. She was hesitant, but Michael reminded her that she had expressed a desire to get involved and that they needed someone who didn’t stand out as magical to check on a nearby church. He handed out assignments to each of us, and within the hour we were all on our way.

Once Alice told me the others were done inside, I released the pressure I was putting on the ley line and stepped aside. I was asked not to enter, and feeling pretty drained from the effort anyway, so I sat down on a large stone outside and smoked a cigarette while I waited. Eventually, Benedict, Akshainie, and Alice emerged from the house.

“Where’s everyone else?” I asked, flicking my smoke into the street and standing.

“Michael has taken the cultists in for questioning,” Benedict answered. He had a set of keys in his hand. “I’ll be driving us back to the estate. Would you two care for a ride?”

“Yes, please,” Alice answered. She looked a bit shaken, and I touched her arm to get her attention and give her a concerned look. She gave me a weak smile, shook her head, and made for the car. I followed. We took the back seat and let Akshainie ride up front with Benedict, and no one said much until we’d been driving for a couple minutes. Alice squeezed my hand a bit.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “What happened in there?”

“He took them to a secret dungeon under the estate through a magical door,” she said, softly. Then, louder and to the whole car, “Does that bother anyone else? That he can just…do that?”

“Wait he did what?” I demanded. Akshainie shrugged.

“I don’t see what else you expect him to do with them,” she said, turning to look at Alice and me.

“The police wouldn’t be able to handle them properly, and I’m not sure they actually broke any laws anyway,” Benedict said.

“That’s worse! Please tell me you see how that isn’t better!” Alice cried. 

“It sounds an awful lot like kidnapping when you say it like that,” I said.

“I don’t trust the Hudson any more than you do, but this is the Brood of Nachash we’re talking about!” Akshainie was starting to sound tense.

​“Okay but what about when it isn’t?” I asked. Alice pointed at me and nodded as I continued, “Is this just a thing they do? Take people whenever they feel justified about it? Do the people they take have any rights, is there any due process for people who deal with the supernatural? Isn’t that concerning to literally everyone in this car?” Akshainie turned back around and Alice leaned her head on my shoulder. There was silence in the car the rest of the way back.

We wandered into town, taking the time to have our first real look at the place and talk about the things we liked in the area. It was actually a pretty nice little town, bunch of buildings (and spirits) that looked older than my country. I needed to use the restroom after a bit, and she spotted some restaurant and suggested we dip in and she could ask if they had a table open while I handled that. They did, apparently, and by the time I got back to her they had pulled out a suit jacket that I needed to put on if we expected to eat there. I wasn’t super excited about the idea, but she seemed to be, so I accepted the jacket and we were led to our table.

“I thought places with rules like this take reservations,” I said, adjusting the jacket after we sat down and glancing around the room. It was nice, real nice, ‘blow my whole income from the trip on our dinner’ nice. I was having regrets.

“Yeah, well, they generally do,” she answered. She was beaming, and I suddenly realized how little time we spent in her world and how much time we spent in…or, I suppose is more accurate, adjacent to mine. This was probably a rare treat for her, which I should probably fix, and while I was pretty sure she had made arrangements ahead of time—no place like this just gives up a table to people walking in off the street, sure as hell not on Valentine’s Day—I decided to let her play her game and dropped the subject. God, she was beautiful when she smiled like that.

So dinner went well. When she realized that I was skipping past the most expensive parts of the menu she finally confessed that the whole thing, including the tab, had already been arranged and I didn’t have to worry about it. So we had a nice dinner and some wine and dessert and spent some time talking about something other than cults and magic, and it was really nice. By the time we left the restaurant, I had been able to completely clear my mind of the reason we were in Britain to begin with. Then, as we were walking kind of the long way back to look for souvenirs or something, I felt a surge in the air and dead stopped.

“John? Are you okay?” She asked, resting her hand on my shoulder. I stood for a moment, trying to parse what I was feeling, before it clicked.

“It’s the magic from that site,” I said. “I can feel it. It’s being activated.” We made our way to a park bench and I called the others.

“Matteson,” Benedict answered.

“The site’s been activated. I can track it. Where are you?” There was a sudden clinking sound and then I heard Benedict repeating what I’d said, but muffled as if he was trying and failing to cover the receiver, and then his voice dominated the background chatter and shuffling.

“We’re at a pub in town. Where are you?”

​“In town. Heading,” I paused and pulled out my keys, which had a little compass ball on them, “Southwest, probably along a ley line.” He informed me they would head in that direction, and I promised to tell them if I had to change direction or where I ended up.