Imagineer (The Imagineer Series Book 1)
Author: Raconteur, Honor
Date: 2019-06-13
Publisher: Raconteur House LLC

Table of Contents

- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- Author

Published by Raconteur House

Murfreesboro, TN

IMAGINEER

Imagineer Series: Grimoire 1

A Raconteur House book/ published by arrangement with the author

Copyright © 2019 by Honor Raconteur

Cover by Katie Griffin

Engineering technology vector wallpaper made with circles and lines by Sylverarts Vectors/Shutterstock; Eye glasses icon by Anatolir/Shutterstock

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or events, is entirely coincidental. Pop culture references belong to their respective TM owners and are used just for fun.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

Purchase only authorized editions.

For information address: www.raconteurhouse.com

Tags:

Magic is REAL, like really real, intellectual competency, if that even is a thing, I made it a thing, terrible parenting, friendship 101, awesome sidekicks, Reagan being BAMF, because she’s awesome that way, wendigos, and other scary creatures, cool grandmothers, road trip!, Brazil, a little India, complex magic, imagination has no limit, Mongolian metal music, fluff, all the feels, bizarre roommates, modern with magic, magic engineering, sort of based on reality, I don’t even know, I tried, a bit of kidnapping, featuring special guest star: kobold, no pookas were harmed in the making of this story

He said, “And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.”

-Roald Dahl

It was the perfect night for a murder.

Or at least, it felt that way to me at this very moment.

I knelt on the gravelly side of the road, lug wrench in hand, and one eye over my shoulder as I tried to change the flat tire. It was late—much later than I preferred to be out—the deserted road wrapped in inky darkness. The sounds of insects, the leaves rustling in the light wind, and not much else accompanied me. I felt remarkably like a heroine in a bad horror movie. The one who had her back turned to the monster stealthily creeping up behind her, and would pounce any second.

I’d been on this road many, many times in the past three years. My grandmother was at a nursing home farther out of town, and I went to see her at least once a week. I wasn’t a stranger to this part of Oregon and yet…and yet. There was something creepy-crawly, shivers-up-the-spine wrong right now and I couldn’t put my finger on it. I did my best to keep an eye out, my phone face-down on the ground and within reach. It doubled as a flashlight at the moment, because without it I wouldn’t have a prayer of changing the tire.

Assuming I had any prayer of changing the tire. I didn’t know who’d put these lug nuts on but they were tight. I’d put a foot on the wrench and bounced on it with nearly my full weight and it wasn’t budging. The resistance just ratcheted my panic. Now was not the time for me to be stranded on a deserted road. My hind brain seemed convinced I was going to become a strange smell in a trunk at this rate.

“Come on, Reagan,” I muttered to myself. “Just change the tire. Get the lug nuts free, change the tire, go home. Worry about fixing the tire properly tomorrow, ’kay? Man, I wish I had someone to call in situations like this.”

Instinct made me freeze. I looked carefully around and realized belatedly all animal noise had died. The birds that had been flying about, and the insects that had been singing to each other, all were deathly quiet now. Only the leaves shifting in the breeze still dared to make any sound. It felt like a ball of spikes wedged itself into my throat. I swallowed hard.

You know what? Sitting in the car with the doors locked sounded like a really good idea right now.

I reached down for my phone, but my hand never connected. Something warm and hard wrapped around my waist, bodily lifting me up so my toes didn’t even graze the ground. I yelped in surprise, arms flailing, not that it did any good. Before I could even get my head turned, the back door opened and I was unceremoniously shoved inside. I went sprawling along the backseat, an inelegant jumble of limbs and grunts. My feet were thrown up, out of the way, the locks engaged with an audible click before the door was slammed shut again.

Locking me inside.

What…just happened?

Quickly righting myself, I squirmed about in the small confines of my Civic’s backseat. I pushed the many books, bags, and coats I had back here impatiently out of the way as I moved. I regretted using my backseat as a catchall right now, and I regretted even more that I hadn’t kept a hand on my phone. It was still outside, the single beam shining straight toward the sky.

Of the person who’d shoved me inside the car, there was no sign.

I knew it had been a person. I’d felt their arm, their chest against my side. I’d heard their breathing, the crunch of their shoes against the pavement. But how could anyone disappear in the three seconds it'd taken for me to get upright again? Were they a ninja?

Part of me wanted to unlock the doors, grab my phone, and call for a tow truck. Some instinct stilled my hand, made me take a second look at my surroundings. Something strange was going on here. Even though my surroundings looked perfectly serene, I didn’t trust it.

A howl split the air. I’d never seen a real wolf in my life, but I’d heard them on television often enough that I recognized it instantly. Holy mother of—that sounded close. Really close. On the heels of that howl came a chorus of other howls, then snarls, angry and snapping. I couldn’t see anything beyond the beam of my phone’s flashlight, but they had to be close if I could hear them so clearly.

Okay, excuse you very much, why were there wolves?! I lived in Oregon! THERE SHOULD BE NO WOLVES.

I was so taking this up with Nana. It’d been her idea to move here in the first place. She could have mentioned the wolves.

Had whoever stuffed me in the car known about the wolves? Stuck me in here so I didn’t get eaten? Although why he/she had locked the doors was a mystery to me. As far as I knew, wolves couldn’t open doors. So why—

Another wave of snarls and howls, and then, far along the edge of the road, near the line of forest and trees, something clashed. I caught nothing more than a glimpse, something pale flitting through the trees, and the impact of two bodies slamming together echoed through the night air. I winced in reaction because that had sounded brutal.

That set something off in a chain reaction and several other thuds could be heard, followed by yips of pain or screams. Screams that sounded human and yet…not. I swallowed hard, listening and watching intently, trying to figure out who was being attacked. Was a person out there battling with the wolves? Surely not. And yet, what other explanation was there? The wolves were attacking something.

Something the size of a prop-plane darted across the road, followed by a roar, like that of a lion, and it rattled my nerves so bad it felt like my stomach crawled up my throat.

Okay, just sitting out here was not a good idea. Someone was potentially in trouble. Me. I was potentially in trouble and I was a sitting duck. I unlocked the doors and leaned forward just enough to snag my phone. I quickly retreated, closing the door again, although I didn’t lock it. I didn’t see the point.

The locks re-engaged with a click.

I eyed the door handle with misgiving. I didn’t have the type of car that automatically locked the doors. That couldn’t be an electrical failure, right? Ummm.

You know what, let’s leave that mystery for later. Right now, I needed to call 911.

Fingers shaking a little, I unlocked my phone and sat there, staring at the top of the screen with a sense of misgiving. No bars. Of course I was in a freaking deadzone.

“Don’t panic,” I ordered myself firmly, even as my nerves started the shimmy-shake. “No panicking. Not helpful. Crappity crap crap. Of course I’m stuck inside a car while there’s a wolf battle outside the car and—” I cut myself off with a yip of surprise as something visibly crossed the road.

Something that…okay, no. Even thinking someone was flying on a broom sounded crazy. Crazy and incredible.

I sat carefully up, watching again along the edge of the trees. Something flashed, a bright spark of light, but it was deep within the tree line and I didn’t see anything but light. It wasn’t the kind of light from a flashlight—more like a firework, multi-colored sparks against a black backdrop.

Seriously, what was going on?!

From the sounds alone, I could tell the battle drew closer. Thuds of something meaty hitting hard ground, and the splinter of trees as something forcefully went through the trunks played like a discordant symphony behind me. It scared the willies out of me, especially since I couldn’t really pinpoint what was happening. Was I even safe in the car?

“Oookay,” I breathed to myself. “Not sure if it’s safe to go out yet, but I can’t sit here the rest of the night, either. Can I drive on a flat tire? Crap, where’s Google-sensei when you need him?”

The rear end of my car suddenly jacked a little higher. The side with the flat, specifically. I craned my neck and smashed my face up against the glass to see, but still saw nothing out there. Inspired, I instead looked at the side-view mirror, and that gave me a better angle. Under my incredulous eyes, the tire slowly filled.

OMG. WHY? HOW? I spluttered, nearly choked on my own spit, and had to beat a hand against my breastbone to get my lungs restarted. How was it doing that?!

My attention was yanked from the self-filling tire as something happened behind me along the road. Another lion-like roar sounded out, and it was close—hair-raisingly close. Out of nowhere, that prop-plane-sized creature rolled along the blacktop with giant scraping thuds. My visual of it flickered in and out, like a video cutting out—one second there, the next gone. But I caught glimpses of a lion-like body with a—was that a scorpion tail?!—rising to its feet. I saw three large bodies—and by large I meant the size of a pony—tear into it, and holy Toledo, what were those supposed to be?! Surely wolves didn’t get that big! Howls and yips and roars all mingled together as the wolves forced the weird creature back into the tree line and out of sight.

I had to get out of here. As curious as I was about what type of creatures were involved in that battle, it was not worth my life. I frantically looked at the tire again, judging my ability to drive on it.

During my preoccupation, the tire had gone from flatter than roadkill to full and seemingly perfect. I stared at it with a split second of disbelief and felt my jaw drop. I hadn’t hallucinated the tire going flat, right?

The car lowered and the tools I’d gathered lifted in the air, floating. The trunk opened with a snick, and I could hear and feel it when everything was tossed back in, including the spare tire. The trunk shut with a soft wham.

Had someone just…magically fixed my tire?

Seriously?!

I had no good explanation for what I’d just seen. I had a lot of fantastical explanations, but I was a fantasy lover; of course my brain automatically went there.

Something impacted the side of the passenger door in three sharp jabs. I jumped as it rocked the car—the force was that powerful—and stared down numbly as I realized something pointy had penetrated through the wall of the car, the plastic interior, and come within an inch of hitting my skin.

Yeah, okay, no. I was not okay with being a pincushion. Time to go.

I scrambled from the backseat and into the front with more energy than grace. Dropping in, I didn’t even bother with the seatbelt, just started up the engine and gunned it. I was so, so out of there.

My headlights washed over the dark pavement as I took the roads at about twenty over the speed limit, determined to put as much distance between myself and that…whatever that had been. I’d heard of alien abductions, and conspiracy theories, but what could possibly explain what I’d just witnessed? It was like one of those mythical battles out of legends. I was equally torn between curiosity and relief. If not for…whatever had shoved me into the car, I might have been hit by those pointy spikes now embedded in my car.

Although it still left the question of who’d done so.

Whatever the case was, however this had been accomplished, I didn’t believe whoever—whatever—was out there wished me harm. They’d physically moved me to get me out of danger. They’d fixed my tire. Heck, they’d even cleaned up afterwards. I had no idea if it was magical or otherwise, but was grateful for their help either way.

I kept my eyes peeled all the way home, not sure if trouble followed me. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary on the way back into town and I made it safely all the way to my empty driveway. I parked in my usual spot, under the motion security light near the door, and turned off the engine.

And then I freaked out totally.

I kept bouncing in my seat, my hands flexing on the steering wheel, my mind and pulse racing a million miles an hour. The whole battle with the wolves was strange in and of itself—I still wanted an explanation for that—but what about the rest of it? Me being forcefully picked up and moved, the tire fixing itself, the spiky things now embedded in the side of the car, all of it. It was one thing to convince yourself you’d imagined something, that your eyes played tricks on you. But when an experience included every sense but taste?

That was either a full-blown hallucination or something magical had just happened to me. I didn’t believe for one second I’d hallucinated.

I got out, still jittery, to get a better look at what now treated my car like a pincushion. Under the harsh white light, they stuck out like a sore thumb. They were long, maybe four feet, narrow and thin like a porcupine’s quills. If a porcupine’s quills could ever get that big. I bent nearer but didn’t touch, not yet. I wasn’t sure if they were venomous. They didn’t seem to be; they’d made a clean puncture and nothing else. They smelled weird, though. Like dirty fur and blood.

Retreating to the shed near the house, I retrieved some gardening gloves and a bucket. I had no idea if could pull these things free by hand but was game to try. I didn’t want to drive around with them in my car, first of all. That would surely get some awkward questions.

Putting both hands on a spike, I planted my foot against the side of the car and pulled steadily. It took some serious mojo, but I got it free. The other two came out the same way and I dropped them all into the bucket before staring down at them thoughtfully. Okay, they were free. Now what?

I didn’t like the idea of something potentially biohazardous lurking around my house. I had no clue what to do with them, though. As nice as it was to have physical proof something crazy had gone down, I wasn’t sure if these things were safe to keep.

I decided to take a picture and then try burning them. I had a firepit out back that should work for this. I laid them on the pavement, with my foot beside one as a comparison, and took a few pictures. Considering the lighting, they turned out rather well. Then I scooped them all up in the bucket again and carted them toward the back.

Since I really had no idea what I was dealing with, I chose to burn one to start with. I put it on the pile of kindling, doused it in a bit of lighter fluid to get it going, and lit it up.

Almost immediately I realized I’d made a mistake.

The stench, gag. Like rotten eggs and molding blood and mummified corpses. And it didn’t burn, but sort of melted into this horrible goo. Great. I had no idea how to clean that out…uh oh. Was that? Craaap. It was melting through the metal fire pit basin.

“Not a good idea, self,” I observed to me. All sorts of resigned, I let it burn itself out, because the damage was done and I didn’t relish the idea of any further experimentation by dousing it with water at this stage. It not only ate through the metal basin but the concrete underneath it. Because that was how good my luck normally ran.

I did not relish the idea of explaining all this damage away. Well, maybe my parents wouldn’t notice. They were overseas most of the time anyway. And even when they were here, the back patio was covered in snow.

I stared at the quills with dismay. On the one hand, I didn’t know what to do with them. On the other, I was beyond excited. I’d always been told magic wasn’t real, that fantasy was just for entertainment. The only one in my life who semi-believed in magic was Nana, who had an imagination just as active as my own. I’d never fully believed this “normality” was the only option in life. I’d played along as people made their comments and opinions.

Tonight had been eye-opening and mind-blowing in the same measure. I had no idea what had occurred—simply that something had—something logic and rationality couldn’t explain away. I felt like a door inside my mind had opened and beyond it was all the wonder, all the possibility, I had denied myself until this very moment. I felt inspired and rejuvenated in a sense I’d never experienced in all of my seventeen years.

I’d gotten a peek of what the world was truly like. There was no way under heaven I’d go back to monochrome normality when I had the possibility of something wonderful, something more than the daily grind.

I’d figure this out. I swore a solemn oath to myself I was not going to pass off this experience as the product of an active imagination.

And as for the quills? Well, tomorrow would be soon enough to figure it out.

My stages of waking proceeded thusly:

1. Denial

2. Denial

3. Denial

4. Denial

5. Extreme hostility

When my alarm went off, I slapped it until it made a crying, dying sound and shut up. My hostility was higher than usual because I hadn’t slept well. Somehow, I’d developed a crick in my neck and I had a headache as a result. Not the best way to start a Monday morning.

I’d been unable to sleep hardly at all last night. My mind kept reviewing what had happened, over and over again, looking at it from different angles. I’d finally gotten up and written everything I could remember down, which helped settle me. I wanted to print it out and show it to Nana later, get her take on it. Even after thinking about it most of the night, I really didn’t understand anything that had happened. And while that fed my curiosity to the bursting point, I wanted answers.

Stretching, I got the blood flowing before rolling heavily out of my queen-sized bed. The house was quiet, like always, as I got into the shower and shampooed my hair. I knew some people preferred to shower the night before and sleep in, but let me just say, that was completely inadvisable with my hair. I’d inherited my grandmother’s curly, rambunctious, thick black hair that had a mind of its own and sprung every possible direction. Sleeping on it was a Bad Idea. Sleeping on it wet?

Swamp Witch level. Guaranteed.

I tamed it down into a French braid, got dressed in a hoodie, jeans, and combat boots, and checked myself in the mirror attached to the bathroom door. I no longer looked like a badly animated zombie. Awesomesauce. I did, however, still have the ability to frighten small children. My pale gold skin looked more pale than gold this morning and there were purplish shadows under my dark brown eyes. Usually I didn’t bother with makeup, but this morning I felt like I needed a little something to avoid being a horror movie extra. I slathered on concealer, mascara, and eye liner, and grabbed my light pink gloss to stash in my pocket.

Okay, that’d worked. I looked less dead now.

Satisfied, I sauntered down the stairs. Keeping one hand on the banister, I idly checked emails on my phone as I moved into the kitchen. Neither of my parents had emailed me, which didn’t surprise me. It wasn’t like they were due to email me—that typically happened only on Sundays—but sometimes they had an unexpected situation and would randomly move locations in whatever respective country they happened to be in. When they did, they tried to give me a heads-up in case I needed to reach them. I always checked in the morning and again at night before bed, just in case.

I paused in the doorway of the kitchen and stared in disgust and dismay. I hadn’t done dishes in three days. Pots, pans, plates, bowls, and more glasses than I cared to shake a stick at littered every available surface. I really had to bite the bullet and do some housework today. It really, really had to happen. For one thing, I was nearly out of clean glasses, but for another, this had gotten out of control.

I blamed the new fantasy series I’d picked up last week. You hear that, Kevin Hearne? Your fault. It’d been too good to put down and before I’d known what was happening, I’d blown all my free time binge reading the nine-book series.

Dishes, however, would have to wait. I didn’t have time to do them before school. Stifling a yawn, I made breakfast—simple toast with jam and a big mug of hot apple cider. It got the blood flowing a little more, and I needed it. The outdoors did not look inviting, and that was putting it mildly.

Looked like pea soup out there, I kid you not. Did Astoria somehow move to the outskirts of London last night while I wasn’t looking? It would explain a lot right now.

Resigned to driving carefully to school, I gathered up my backpack from the bar stool, snatching my keys from the hook near the back door. The pea soup grew when I stood in it. The house was a sort of versatile grey color, and in the fog, it blended right in with the air. Five feet from the house, I could barely tell where it stood. This was not going to be pretty.

I checked on the quills, just to make sure they hadn’t spontaneously done something overnight. Like burst into flames. Or spray acid all over the place. I frowned as I reached the patio because the bucket I’d left them in was nowhere to be found. But the fire basin with the holes in it and the damaged concrete were still there. Weiiiiird.

As much as I’d like to stay and figure out that little mystery, I didn’t have the time. I had to get to school. I’d poke at it later this afternoon. I retreated to the car and looked the rear right area over closely as I did so. It seriously looked as if someone had shot the car three times and wouldn’t that raise a few eyebrows. I definitely had to get that fixed.

I had a hand on the car’s door handle when I heard a whoosh overhead and instinctively looked up. I couldn’t see more than a general shape, but…that was rather large to be a bird, wasn’t it? We got a lot of seagulls, sometimes eagles and hawks out here. But even the largest of them didn’t have that kind of a wingspan. And it’d had a very long torso.

After that two-second glimpse, the fog hid it again.

“Well that’s not eerie at all,” I grumbled as I tossed my backpack into the passenger seat and slung myself inside. “Thank you, for cranking up the creepy, because that’s totally what I need on a morning like this. Especially after epic battles and disappearing spikes. Alright, Boogieman, just calm down for a while. You’ve done your job; you can punch out for the day.”

I kept an eye on the sky as I pulled out of the driveway, hoping to see something else. I had to drive slowly, but I arrived at school without any accidents. Astoria High School was one of those un-imaginatively designed buildings: a large, red rectangle made of brick and concrete, with a couple off-shoots. I meandered through their bland hallways with the white paint and white tile on a daily basis, fervently wishing to be somewhere else. Pulling into my usual parking spot, I stared at the building and heaved a resigned sigh. I’d so much prefer to figure stuff out, and talk to Nana, and deal with real life instead of walking through those doors.

Let the monotony begin.

I people-watched as I entered the building. You could tell a lot by the way someone carried themselves. The perky trio of blondes in front of me with the swishing ponytails, lively chatting amongst themselves, were morning people; the two guys slinking along my right had clearly not combed their hair and just jammed a cap over it; I had a teacher speed walk past me while clutching a messenger bag and four folders crammed to overflowing. I guessed him to be running late for a meeting or setting up a class or something.

I respected people who had it all together.

But the people who stumbled into school looking like they’d gotten attacked by an angry flock of birds? Those were my people.

An arm I knew well plopped down around my shoulders. “Morning, Reagan.”

I rolled my eyes toward Tabitha. As usual, my perky friend was unfairly awake and aware at this time of the day. She batted her big blues at me, smile crinkling the freckles across her nose. “Morning. You went blonde. Why did you go blonde?”

“I don’t actually like being a redhead,” she reminded me. “Too many jokes about being short-tempered because I’m a ginger.”

“So you choose the blonde jokes instead?” The logic escaped me. But then, Tabitha’s logic generally did.

To this day, I remained unsure what element had drawn Tabby’s attention to me, or why she’d wanted to be friends. I hadn’t approached her. At fourteen, when my family had moved to Astoria from California, I’d been too shy to even think of approaching anyone. In many ways, we were opposites—I leaned toward introverted, she was extroverted. I liked books, she barely read magazines. I adored anything fantasy, she was infinitely pragmatic. Somehow, though, three years had passed and we still found enough in common to hang out with each other, and Tabby was great about getting me out of the house.

Tabitha shrugged, as if the possibility of blonde jokes didn’t upset her. “I just wish I could skip school and like…download information into my brain.”

“It’s called studying,” I informed her drolly, “but the buffering speed is craptastic.”

Making a face at me, she said, “I have to stop by my locker. See you in English?”

“Sure.” I had to stop at mine, too, but it was in a different hallway from hers. I waded through half-awake teenagers until I reached my locker and quickly did the combination on the lock. I’d done it so many times, my brain didn’t engage at all. Swapping out textbooks, I closed it again, then headed to Statistics.

Or, as I liked to call it, Sadistics.

I didn’t have anything against Mr. White. Really. Nice guy, and he wasn’t bad-looking. Maybe a little stodgy around the middle, with a bed-rumpled appearance that made me think he’d rolled out of bed ten minutes before he needed to leave, then got dressed one-handed. In the dark. While fighting off ninjas. But fashion statements aside, I had one major problem with him: his voice. The man possessed a unique soothing, calm, deep voice that could instantly put anyone to sleep.

Why, why had I thought it a good idea to take my worst subject from this man first thing in the morning? Did I need to start drinking caffeine for breakfast? Did this need to become a thing?

As he started his lecture, I tried to pay attention, I really did. But somehow my eyes naturally drifted to the window and the outside view. The fog was clearing up a little. Enough that I could see across the street at least. It gave me hope this wasn’t a three-months-fog but maybe a half-day fog. Could be worse. If that was the case, I really should do some grocery shopping after school, clean the kitchen, and be all responsible for a few hours. Then I could go hunting for something new to read.

I think everyone, at some point in their lives, sees something strange from the corner of their eyes. Something that is so quick, so transitory, they question their sanity for even thinking they saw it in the first place. Most people don’t even mention when it happens to them, dismissing it completely.

It’s a little bit harder to brush off the strange thing when it appears front and center.

For the second time that morning, I saw something completely and utterly out of place. Across the street, on the lot that had stood vacant for years, sprawled a complex with thick white walls, a closed gate of dark wood and metal rings, and beyond that—

In a blink, it disappeared.

I inhaled sharply, my attention riveted to the outside. It had been a Japanese castle. For a moment—just a second—I’d seen a four-story Japanese castle, with the curving roof edges and the sliding doors and everything. Not that I’d ever been to Japan, but I’d seen enough depictions of them in manga and anime to know what they looked like. And it had been a perfect representation of the type.

Only, it wasn’t there now. And really, it was nonsensical to think a castle would be there. An empty lot on Friday, a fully-constructed Japanese castle on Monday? Not possible.

For a second, I doubted my own eyes. The logical assumption was I was seeing things—that my imagination had played a trick on me. But after what happened last night, I didn’t doubt my eyes. I might not have a logical explanation for it, but I didn’t feel logic had a place in this. Something was happening to the world around me.

“Reagan?” Mr. White called to me, tone amused. “You still with us?”

“Hey, Mr. White,” I answered, tearing my eyes from the window to look back at him. “What’s the statistical probability my imagination is playing tricks on me?”

“High, I bet, knowing you.”

I grinned back at him, because I’d take that bet.

“You saw a Japanese castle in the empty lot across the street,” Tabitha parroted back doubtfully. We sat in our usual corner during lunch: in the open quad and on the grass, sitting on our jackets. It was actually a nice day for April, not too cold, and the fog had burned off completely. Pushing a hank of hair out of her face and behind an ear, Tabitha regarded me with her eyebrows screwed up in disbelief. “You were daydreaming.”

“Eyes wide open,” I disagreed, still excited. I didn’t expect her to really believe me, but I had to tell someone or burst with it. “I know, it doesn’t make any sense, but it was right there for three seconds. Then gone. And something else happened last night, something even crazier. I can’t even explain it, but it damaged my car. Wouldn’t it be cool if it was magic?”

Shaking her head, Tabitha informed me, “You’ve gone cray cray, girl.”

I’d mostly expected this reaction, so I tried to shrug it off and bit into my roast beef sandwich. Her words were more than a little hurtful, to be honest, and it almost put a sharp dent in my belief of what happened this morning. There’s always been a part of me that wanted magic to be real. Normal, everyday life without the possibility of something more out there was just too sad and disappointing. I guess that was why I kept hoping something magical would happen. This morning could’ve been a trick of the eyes and my overactive imagination. Last night couldn’t have been. But right now, I didn’t feel inclined to tell her any of that. Her disbelief was like a wall and I didn’t have the energy to batter it down.

“You don’t have to believe me. It was just too cool not to share.”

Still eyeing me sideways, she asked in a tone that said she already knew the answer, “You binge read fantasy again this weekend, didn’t you?”

“I was binge reading urban fantasy,” I informed her, starting to regret saying anything. Tabitha might not let this go for days. “What I saw was Japanese. No connection.”

Tabitha waved this away as unimportant. Likely to her, it was. Which, honestly, was a little sad. Everyone needed some magic in their life. It was too depressing without it.

Perhaps to Tabitha, it was a subject done and over with. But I spent English Lit and World History writing out possibilities. I started with the logical ones, like holograms or projections. Maybe I really had been daydreaming for a second and my brain had taken off with me. It wouldn’t be the first time.

I gradually slid away from logic and straight into la-la land. I spent more time with fantasy than the real world, what with how isolated I was up here, and anyway, I was more comfortable thinking in terms of magic.

With all the fantasy I’ve read and watched, I had a lot of magical theory stowed away in my brain. Every magical study had its own version of glamour spells, shields, wards, barriers and the like. Druids held the belief that two planes of existence occupied the same space, just one level removed, and you could see the other plane if you moved around one of the anchors—usually a tree—in the right direction, with the right power. It was the separation of the planes that kept you from seeing anything but the world around you.

Obviously, druid power had nothing to do with what I’d seen this morning. It was just the first explanation that popped into my head, although, now that I thought about it, it didn’t make sense in this context. Japan had its own belief system—kotodama, the power of words. They believed any spoken word had power. I wasn’t sure if it was sufficient to hide a four-story castle in plain sight, but….

The more I thought about it, the more my thoughts spiraled into Ouroboros’s knot, literally chasing its own tail, not getting anywhere. Had it been just my imagination? Magic? Something else altogether?

I still wasn’t quite sure what I’d seen. But I wasn’t going to let anyone convince me it was all in my head. It hadn’t been, and their disbelief wasn’t going to turn it all into a lie.

My plans for grocery shopping and mundane things went out the window. I bought a sandwich and drink before parking myself on the bench just outside the vacant lot. It was ostensibly for a bus stop, but I ignored the other passengers getting off and on, angling my body so I could stare at the empty space.

To anyone else, I probably looked strange, but I didn’t let that bother me. I pulled out homework, idly working through math problems and history questions, keeping my eyes on the lot as much as possible. I even looked up a body shop and called in my car to get it fixed.

Most of me didn’t want to go back to that deserted stretch of road and examine it. That seemed a good way to end up as a dead body. Besides, whatever had been there had likely already moved on. I knew nothing about tracking, I was unequipped to read any signs left behind. This, though, was a safe area.

Just to give logic its due, I carefully checked for any sign of hologram equipment, or anything looking like a camera or projection system. Nothing. Only grass and weeds and patches of bare dirt. Whatever the vision had been, it didn’t seem like technology played a part here. Either that, or whoever had done it had come and gone already, leaving no trace behind.

Minutes ticked by into hours. The sun—not particularly warm—started to set, taking whatever warmth it offered with it. I was not dressed for sitting outside, hanging around on a metal bench. The bus stop had a plastic wall up as a windbreak but offered no creature comforts. Somewhere around sunset, with my teeth chattering and my hands numb with cold, I decided to call it quits. I could try this again, properly dressed, and resume tomorrow.

Gathering up my backpack, I slung it on and started for my car still in the high school parking lot across the street. I glanced both ways, saw no cars, and headed across. With one foot barely off the sidewalk, I heard a loud whoosh overhead, much too loud to belong to any normal bird. My head jerked up automatically, scanning the skies.

Nothing.

Not even a fly flew overhead.

“Now you’re just teasing me,” I groaned, scowling upwards. “First you have an epic battle just out of sight, then I can see you, now I can only hear you? Really? My hand to Thor, on my honor as a child of luxury and privilege, I will figure this out.”

The silence and stillness taunted me.

“Fine, be that way.” Giving the vacant lot one last glare, I turned and stomped to the car.

I would figure this out.

I tried investigating my own back yard, but whoever had taken the quills left no trace behind. And I meant literally. They’d cleaned up the damage to the fire pit and the concrete by the time I got home. Even my car was fixed overnight. I had the sense I was being watched carefully now, but I didn’t know why or by who. Or by what.

It left me a little on edge and constantly looking over my shoulder.

The rest of the school week, I kept a careful eye on the vacant lot. Tabby got into the habit of snagging my elbow and dragging me past it, poking at me to stop being an idiot. I couldn’t resist looking, though. Sometimes I caught a strange shimmer over in that direction, like a heat wave.

And that wasn’t possible in fifty-degree weather.

Other strange things happened, too. I felt someone brush up against me outside the corner deli on my street, only no one was visibly near me. I heard and saw a puddle splash but no one was there. The strange phenomena excited me, even though I had no explanation for any of it. But the best part? I’d swear I had a winged stalker.

Not that I could see him/her. But I could certainly hear the wings as they flapped over my head. I’d heard it three times this week so far. And let me tell you, it wasn’t small enough to belong to a bird. We were talking gargoyle wings or dragon wings—assuming it was a small enough dragon. The flapping noise was that loud.

With an eye overhead, I kept up my ‘saunter’ down the docks. There were a lot of tourists down here, and by a lot I mean maybe fifty or so. Spring break brought people over here, because there were a few monuments and such to spike interest. I walked along the pier and wished I’d tamed my hair in a tight braid instead of the loose ponytail. The wind off the ocean blew strong enough to whip fine tendrils into my face and I kept spitting out hair.

When your hair is curly, sometimes there’s a fine line between ‘messy romantic waves’ and ‘evil witch that lives in the woods.’ I had a feeling I’d crossed that line. At least, the startled looks from the other pedestrians gave me a good clue.

I’d normally ignore the looks, but my hair was really driving me nuts. I paused at an open bench and put my bag down, yanking the elastic band out of my hair. Turning, I put my face into the wind so I didn’t have to fight my hair while braiding it.

A strong gust of wind hit me from behind, throwing my hair around my face. I froze for a split second, then snapped around. That shouldn’t have been possible. The wind was strongly coming from this direction, not from behind me. And it was gone in a second, like a…like a backdraft of wings.

I looked around frantically but didn’t see anything except the sunny concrete docks I’d been walking along. No one else seemed to notice anything strange, as they still went their own ways, talking to each other and taking pictures.

For a second, my rational mind tried to take over and point out that wind could change directions. I’d experienced it before, where the air had eddies to it. Couldn’t the gust have been just that? I’d been so focused on finding some clue to prove magic was real, maybe I imagined it? Or read too much into a simple gust of wind?

But no. I’d felt the strong force of the eastern wind in my face even as I’d felt that gust of wind from behind. I hadn’t imagined that. My ears perked, straining hard for any of those flaps that had followed me for the past few days.

Nada.

Okay, me, you might be panicking at the wrong disco. Stay cool. You’re the daughter and granddaughter of two professors; you know how to be logical when figuring stuff out.

I yanked my hair up in a messy bun and retrieved my bag. I’d keep walking and see if I spotted something.

A rustle of wings caught my attention and I looked up sharply, my neck craning as I lifted my eyes to one of the nearby streetlights. Sitting on top of it was a large bird-shaped creature. Long black wings rested half-furled, as if the creature had just landed, and a multi-colored tail spread out and trailed downwards. But what caught my attention and made my mouth run dry was the head.

It was a woman’s head. She was pretty—fair skinned, blonde hair ruffling about her face in a shaggy cut that suited her.

My jaw dropped, hands going lax enough that I almost dropped my bag, barely retaining my grip on it. Holy crap on a stick, just what was she?! I couldn’t be imagining something I didn’t even know, right?

She cocked her head at me, a strangely bird-like movement considering the human features, and caught my eye. Then, I swear on anything anyone would care to name, she winked at me. With a flap of her wings, she took off. As soon as she was airborne, she disappeared as if she’d never been there.

I fumbled for the bench, nearly missed, and grabbed it enough to yank my butt into the seat.

No way.

No. Freaking. Way.

I reeled a little while the cold metal of the bench bit through my jeans. I was two parts elated, one part stunned. As much as I’d been struggling to see something else supernatural, see it properly in daylight, I hadn’t expected it to happen right this minute. And I’d seen her so clearly, too. She hadn’t been huge, maybe a size and a half larger than a vulture. Could she have been the source of that backdraft I felt?

No, wait. Figure that out later. I yanked out my sketchbook and a 2B art pencil and quickly started sketching. Even if it was inaccurate, better than nothing. I doubted I could google ‘mythology creature with body of bird and head of a human’ and get the right creature. Better to show it to Nana. She’d be able to figure this out faster.

My hand cramped by the time I stopped drawing, and the sketch was messy in the extreme, but as accurate as it could be for a quickie. I blew out a breath, shaking my hand out, and stared at it a little longer. This was cool but rather weird at the same time. This creature wasn’t one I knew from Japanese mythology. Not that I was an expert or anything, but still, I knew the main ones.

I fished my phone out of my Fruits Basket messenger bag. Pulling up Google, I tried to look up any flying creature with a human head, but I got too many results. And doing a reverse image search with my sketch yielded nada. Frustrated, I took a picture of the sketch and texted it to my grandmother. I had a resource and I wasn’t afraid to use her.

Nana predictably called me in three seconds. “Rea. What is this?”

“That’s my question, Nana. You know of any creature in mythology with a body kind of like a raven but the head of a human?”

“Well, yes, quite a few. The sketch you made resembles a gamayun. They’re a prophetic bird of Slavic folklore. Generally they’re a symbol of wisdom and knowledge.”

Great. First Japanese castles, now something Slavic. Why couldn’t these random, weird sightings be at least from the same mythology? “Okay. Do they like water?”

“I’d say so, as they live on an island. Reagan, what’s going on?”

“I, ah, might have seen one?”

There was an audible hiccup over the phone. “Say what, now?”

“Yeah. Um. She was sitting on top of the streetlight, and she looked down and winked at me, and that sounded totally crazy, didn’t it?” I glared at my surroundings, already feeling defensive.

“Honey. You’re not pulling an old woman’s leg, are you?” Nana sounded as if she were on the verge of either chewing me out or fangirl screaming.

“I’m really, really not.” I sucked in a breath and confessed, “I’ve, ah, been experiencing some pretty strange things over the past week. Sunday night, when I was coming back from visiting you, I got a flat tire. I was trying to change it when something grabbed me and threw me inside the car. I have no idea who, I didn’t see anyone. And there were wolves howling and snarling, and some kind of fight happening just out sight. It was crazy spooky. I caught glimpses of something large, with a scorpion tail, and wolves the size of ponies. Whatever the fight was about, it left three spikes in the side of the car. And something—again, I never saw who—came to the car, and fixed the tire, and put all of the tools back into the trunk.”

“You caught no sight of anything at all?”

“No. Just sensations. I felt it when I was picked up, I was pressed up against a chest with an arm around my waist for a second. And the tire was flat as a pancake, it had a nail in the sidewall, but the tire inflated under my very eyes. There’s no way I’m making any of that up, as I’m still driving on what was a flat tire. And the spikes were definitely real. They went missing the next day, but I’ve got pictures of them.”

She was reserving judgement but I could tell how intrigued she was as she demanded, “You said strange ‘things.’ What else?”

“I caught a glimpse of a Japanese castle across the street from the school. It was perfectly real for about three seconds. I hear huge wings beating overhead, but I don’t see anything. A foot splashed through a puddle but no one was there. Someone brushed up against me, but again, no one was near me. I have the feeling I’m being watched, too. Besides the fight, lots of little stuff, at least until I saw the…what did you call it?”

“A gamayun,” she answered breathlessly. “Rea. You’re really seeing all this?”

“And hearing, yeah. Nana. I’m not losing my mind, right?”

“Kiddo, I highly doubt it. You’re one of the most level-headed people I know.”

“Despite my love for fantasy?”

“Your head might be up in the clouds sometimes, but you’ve kept your feet on the ground too. Reagan. I don’t want you to doubt your experiences or rationalize them away.”

She believed me. I sucked in a huge breath, feeling like I could properly breathe. At least one person believed me. “I don’t want to jinx anything, but…do you think magic can possibly be real?”

“The reason why I spent so much time researching mythology was because I always felt there had to be some truth to the legends. Every country, every religion and culture, have their own beliefs. Their own mythological races. Why would they all do so, if magic wasn’t somehow real?”

I’d been getting so much crap from Tabitha about this, I’d clammed up instinctively. But Nana was a CSUB professor of mythology—or had been, before she retired. I could at least trust she had an open mind and a willing ear.

“Yeah. Yeah, I keep telling myself the same thing. Something’s up, I just can’t put my finger on what.”

“Are you coming by today?”

“Not today. I want to figure this out a little more, if that’s okay. I’ll report everything I’m seeing later, see if you can help me make sense of it.”

“Sure, kiddo.” She sounded a little disappointed.

I opened my mouth to reassure her, or say something at any rate, but my phone beeped at me with an incoming call. The display showed ‘Tabitha.’ Not sure how I felt about answering, considering I was doing something she didn’t want me doing. I told Nana, “Tabitha’s calling me. Can I talk to you later?”

“Absolutely. And if you see anything else strange, call me immediately.”

“Yes ma’am, promise. Bye!” I hung up with her and accepted Tabitha’s call with something like misgiving weighing down my chest. “Hey, girl.”

Tabitha responded suspiciously, “You’re outside.”

“Uh, yeah. I went for a walk along the docks. Getting some Vitamin D in me.”

“You. You’re outside.”

“I am not a closeted geek all the time,” I pointed out to her, rolling my eyes.

“Says you. I have to drag you out of your house most of the time. Seriously, you’re just walking around getting some sunshine?”

“And sketching. I didn’t want to be inside the house today,” I answered truthfully.

“Huh.” She sounded skeptical and more than a little suspicious. “Okay. Well, I want to go see a movie tonight. You up for that?”

I’d kind of neglected her over the past few days, ever since seeing the castle. It wasn’t wise to hunt for the supernatural after dark—all mythology agreed on that point—which made it easy to make the decision. “Sure. What are we seeing?”

Sunday afternoon, I decided I really had to do at least a load of dishes and buy some essential groceries. Maybe tackle all the garbage cans in the house and get the robot vacuum cleaner going. It was edging into ‘hoarder’s house’ territory and that was never good. I forced myself to be responsible for at least an hour and clean a little. It barely made a dent, but I had clean dishes to use and wasn’t tripping over stuff quite so much.

Hopping into my Civic, I headed for the grocery store. Tempting though it was to keep an eye out for things while driving, I kept my gaze firmly on the road. Looking elsewhere was an accident waiting to happen.

Arriving at the grocery store, I parked midway down the lot ’cause it was a little busier than usual. Locking the car with a beep of the fob, I headed toward the automatic doors.

My preferred grocery store sat in the middle of a little strip mall, with no more than four businesses on either side. A massage parlor, a local boutique, a pet store, things of that ilk. The left side boasted an office for rent on the tail end of the building, and it’d been available for a while. I’d never paid any real attention to it, except….

The doorway to the empty store stood wide open. Several voices overlapped in conversation, light spilled out of the doorway, and the silhouette of a woman wearing heels and a frock coat swept inside. It had all of the sounds and music and activity of a bar.

When the door closed behind the woman, the light and sound cut off as well. It became nothing more than an empty place once again.

I beelined for it, standing right in front of the door, and tried the handle. Locked. It didn’t even budge. The sun was setting, so I didn’t have the best lighting, but the inside appeared clear enough—industrial carpet and blank walls, nothing at all inside the rectangular space.

The implications hit me like a freight train. This was no hologram projection. It wasn’t something I could pin on technology. The glimpses I’d had of supernatural creatures wasn’t isolated. The events of Sunday night certainly weren’t something that could be rationally explained away. This was the first thing I’d seen and heard clearly since Sunday night, something that had happened for more than a few seconds. Everything I’d seen and heard over the past week could only be explained with one answer: Magic was real.

Magic was real.

I stared blankly at the door for a long time, trying to wrap my head around it. I’d wished often for magic. I had faith magic was real on some level, because there was too much wonder in the world that couldn’t be explained any other way—too many legends for there not to be a grain of truth to them. And yet, faced with the reality of it, I felt like someone had thrown me off a tilt-a-whirl.

Magic. Was. Real.

I did a happy dance right there on the spot, screaming in the back of my throat and hopping around, no doubt looking demented. I did not care. I gradually stopped, heart beating so hard it felt like fireworks going off, my joy barely containable.

Yes. Now, if only I could figure out how to step into the magical world fully, instead of being tantalized by all these partial sightings, I’d be set.

I stared at the door again, my mind racing to pull more facts together. They hadn’t built their own places and then disguised them. They’d actually taken up bits and pieces of human buildings too, using them for their own ends.

Was it a portal spell of some sort, anchored to this door but allowing them into a different, magical space? Something else? Were they actually using this building and had a glamour to make it invisible to human eyes?

Logic crept back in. As much as I wanted to, it didn’t seem wise to linger here, right outside a place the supernatural frequented. I could be spirited away and no one would have the slightest idea what happened to me. I backed away and went for the grocery store at a deliberately casual pace. I’d already had one supernatural creature meet my eyes. I didn’t need to flirt with danger unduly, not until I had a better sense of what was going on.

Still, I cast a glance backwards. I couldn’t seem to help myself. My heart beat fast in my chest, adrenaline spiking. The possibility that a magical world surrounded me was awe-inspiring.

And I had SO MANY QUESTIONS. Did they have fairy-run coffee shops where you could get lattes with a shot of charisma? Or witches working at Apple selling phones that automatically appeared in your pocket if you accidentally left it somewhere? Or…ooh, what if they had psychics running hair salons who always knew how you wanted your hair to look? Was it possible the magical world was merely normalized magic in modern society?

And if so, how did I get myself invited inside?

Another week went by. I had fewer sightings—only three—and it frustrated me. I did see the castle again, for a longer stretch of time, but I didn’t see anything else. I heard my winged stalker twice and that was all. Despite doing multiple stints of research, and keeping a journal of every event including the circumstances, I had no baseline for my sightings. I even loaded it all into a spreadsheet to try and find one common denominator. The only thing I could come up with was me.

I was it.

I was the only common thread in all of this.

My frustration with the lack of change grew. I felt like I stood on the edge of something incredible, that with the right timing and force, I could step into a world not my own. I just didn’t know the direction to take, the means with which to accomplish it, despite how close to the magical world I stood.

Eventually, I had to stop chasing rainbows. Or at least pause, as other things needed my attention.

Because it had been a good two weeks since I’d seen Nana, I hopped into the car Saturday morning and headed over to Green Spring Nursing Home. It was a nice enough house, a white Victorian sitting near the channel with forests around it and a soothing sort of vibe.

I parked in their very small parking lot, taking my basket of goodies with me. I routinely brought cookies, as my grandmother had several sweet teeth. The lady at the front desk waved at me as I passed, and I waved back with a smile, heading straight for the sunroom in the back of the house. Nana chose to be out there most of the time. She claimed it was warmer and easier on her old bones, but really, I think she liked watching the boats on the channel.

She sat in her padded rocker, as usual, with her feet up. They looked painfully swollen these days, even through the thick layer of fuzzy socks she had on. Her head came around as I entered and she smiled, wrinkles on wrinkles in her warm amber skin, holding out gnarled hands toward me. “Rea.”

“Hi, Nana.” I leaned down to hug her, gently, as she always felt fragile to me. “I brought you oatmeal raisin this time.”

“Bless you, child. They keep giving me healthy food, which is ridiculous. At my age, might as well eat what you like.” Her voice carried an unusual rasp, and she cleared it absently. “This pollen will be the death of me. Sit, honey, how’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in two weeks. What happened after that last phone call?”

Nana’s mind stayed sharp even as her body failed, which was something of a blessing. I sat in the wooden wicker chair next to her, angled to face her, leaving the cookies on the small round table at her elbow. “Yeah, sorry, I got distracted. Nana, you know how you told me bedtime stories when I was little, about faerie rings?”

Her wispy white eyebrows rose and I could feel her attention sharpen on me. “Yes, so I did. Did you step inside a faerie ring?”

“You know I have better sense than that.” A part of me heaved a breath of relief. After dealing with Tabitha’s disbelief for two weeks straight, it was nice to talk to someone who also believed in magic. “But the strange phenomena have continued and I have to wonder if I’ve done something similar.”

Intrigued, she leaned in, making it easier for us to have a confidential conversation. “Like that gamayun?”

“That’s part of it. I will swear to you on my legless teddy bear I’ve seen a Japanese castle in the vacant lot across from the school multiple times.” I pulled out my phone and showed her the pictures of the large quills. “And these came out of the car. I mentioned the spooky fight the other week, when I was coming back home, right? These were what hit the car. I only have the picture. The one I didn’t try to burn disappeared the next morning.”

She took in the image with a frown. “You didn’t see what shot them into the car?”

I pulled out the sketchbook as I spoke, leaving the messenger bag at my feet, and flipped to the right page. I’d attempted to draw everything I’d seen, although some of it was tricky. It was hard drawing something you’d only seen a glimpse of. “This, I think. It was the general shape of this.”

She took the sketchbook, angling it to see it, mouth pursed in a silent whistle. “Looks like a manticore, doesn’t it?”

“It probably was. It was huge, large enough that it gave a pack of oversized wolves trouble.”

“That’s something, alright.” She flipped to the next page, then the next. “These three—the wolves and the flying woman on the broom, those were all part of that flat-tire attack?”

“Yeah. The page after that, the castle? That happened on a different day.”

She stared at the castle, which I’d done my best on with the perspective, but I admit it looked a bit childish. The lines weren’t quite right. She didn’t offer any art criticisms, just asked, “What time of day did you see it?”

“Nowhere near twilight,” I answered, knowing what she meant by that question. My love of fantasy, and most of my fantasy book collection, came from my grandmother. “Broad daylight every time.”

“And what were you doing?”

“Sitting in Statistics the first time, heading to my car the second.” Wetting my lips, I lowered my voice a mite. “The…events…are happening farther apart, but they’re lasting longer. I can’t figure out why. I’m actively trying to see them, but every time I’m focused, nothing tends to happen. And when I’m thinking of something else, magic. A glimpse of that other world. But that doesn’t make sense to me.”

She flipped to the next page of the sketchbook, lips still pursed. I could practically see the gears turning, she thought so hard. “And this scene near the grocery store?”

“Aside from Sunday night, that one’s the longest lasting of them all. Five seconds, more or less, and I had full sight and sound. Most of the time, I get one or the other, not both. Nana, I’m really, really confused by this.”

Nana’s eyes came back up to me, a grin edging her full lips up. “Happily confused, I bet.”

“Well, yeah. Wouldn’t you be?”

“Kiddo, in your shoes, I’d be doing acrobatics. But remember, tread cautiously. The world around you doesn’t accept the different very well. They won’t understand our excitement, our belief. In fact, they’ll think you’re deranged and in need of a straightjacket.”

I grimaced. “Yeah, I know. I’ve only told Tabby a few things and even she’s been giving me a hard time. I basically stopped talking to her about this a few days ago. I told her about the castle, and the second time I saw it, she was right next to me and I couldn’t really contain my reaction. She’s…not been taking it well. She’s not really listening and I’m afraid she’s going to think I really have boarded the crazy train.”

“Wise of you. Tabitha’s a good girl, but she won’t understand this or know how to accept it.” Nana flipped another page, but this one didn’t hold any sketches—just dates, occurrences, and my own notes. “Reagan, I’m very excited about this with you, but I want you to take another caution to heart. In all those fairy tales I read to you, remember that magical beings can be both good and bad. I know something or someone protected you that first night, but you were also in danger because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Be careful.”

I nodded immediately. “I never try to see anything at night. I know myths say most of the really dangerous creatures are nocturnal.”

She let out a sigh, relief crossing her face. “That’s good. You stay sensible. I know you’re excited, but there’s no one to protect you if you go too deep in the wrong direction. You can’t always trust in the kindness of strangers.”

Another thing I’d realized. “Trust me, I’ll be cautious. But what do you make of this, Nana? Why am I seeing things now? Why am I seeing things at all, in fact?”

“Child, I’ve no idea, but I need more information than what you’ve told me.” Handing the sketchbook back, she requested, “You hand me a cookie and start from the beginning. Let’s try and make sense of this.”

My session with Nana was fun, and certainly nice. I enjoyed talking to someone who understood my excitement and fears. But we didn’t make any real progress. We both agreed, however, that something was definitely happening and I needed to keep my wits about me. We also agreed this was not something I should tell my parents about. They wouldn’t understand it, would in fact worry I’d become unhinged by living alone, or something along those lines. It was enough having Nana who understood me.

So, naturally, the instant I got home I ran into the person who didn’t understand at all.

Tabitha sat on my front porch with her arms crossed, a frown on her face. I got out of the car with foreboding building like acid reflux in my chest. That was never a good expression, that right there.

“Where were you?” Tabitha demanded of me, getting to her feet and stomping forward. “Out chasing more fairies?”

I almost objected (fairies were forest creatures; I wouldn’t see any in a city setting like this) but bit my tongue at the last second and changed it. “I was visiting with Nana. What’s with the Spanish Inquisition?”

“You’ve been acting weird.” She stabbed a brightly painted fingernail at me like a dagger. “Really weird. First you say you see a castle across the street, then you’re talking about hearing things flying overhead, and then you clam up and act like everything’s natural, but I see you go all around town with your sketchbook. Your sketchbook. Normally I have to drag you out of the house, and even then you have some fantasy book in hand. Now you’re outside all the time and drawing random crap no one else can see.”

When she put it like that, I did sound very weird, didn’t I? “Can’t you just think of it as me developing a LARPing game?”

Throwing her hands in the air, she almost yelled, “I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT IS!”

“Girl. Chill. Stop making drama, you’re not Shakespeare.” Really, how did I handle this? It was my fault for making her worried. I knew Tabitha wouldn’t do well with something she couldn’t see. But I’d been so excited, I’d wanted to share it with someone. And I guess I’d hoped maybe I could influence her to believe a little in magic too.

That hope was currently blowing up in my face like an atomic bomb. “LARPing is Live Action Role Play. It’s like dungeons and dragons, sorta, but you play it out in costume.”

This didn’t appease her. “Why can’t you just drop all this?”

I heard the words she didn’t say: Why can’t you just be normal. They stabbed, deep within my ribcage, and I flinched around the pain. “Tabby—”

“You’re almost eighteen,” she continued harshly, face growing red from anger, body rigid with tension. “Shouldn’t you be growing out of all this?”

I stared back at her, floored. Was that what she’d been waiting for? Me to ‘grow up’? “What do you mean, grow out of all this?”

“You honestly think magic is real. It’s like Santa Claus. People grow out of stuff like this when they’re kids. You’re acting like you can see the Tooth Fairy or something. It’s embarrassing being around you! I have to drag you around by the arm because you’re so busy looking for things that don’t even exist that you almost walk into walls. I’d swear you were high and tripping on something, except you’re not acting like you’re on drugs. What is wrong with you?”

I stared back at her, flummoxed. I had no idea how to respond to her, the possible words tangling in my head. Yes, I did think magic was real. I’d experienced too much in the past two weeks to believe otherwise. But she wouldn’t be able to accept that, I could see it on her face. “Tabitha. I’m—I’m sorry if you’ve been embarrassed. Okay? I didn’t intend to do that. But….”

She crossed both arms over her chest, defensive and angry. “What? But what?”

“I’m not sure what you want from me right now.”

“I want you to be normal! I want you to accept that Santa Claus is just a story, that the Tooth Fairy is our parents, that this whole elaborate thing you’ve made up in your head is just that. Something you’ve made up. I want you to stop.”

Did she think friendship was like a food buffet? That you could choose which parts of someone you liked and wanted to keep, and ignore the rest? I’d never done that with her. I couldn’t understand why she’d done it with me.

“I refuse to live in this world and not believe in magic. That’s too depressing. If that’s what you’re waiting for, Tabitha, for me to give up, then you’re going to be waiting for a very long time.”

A scream in the back of her throat, she whirled around and stomped back to her car, slamming the door shut and roaring the engine before gunning it away from the house.

I stood in shock for several seconds, my head spinning like I’d just fallen off a rollercoaster. I kind of had—a rollercoaster of emotions I’d not willingly boarded. Chasing the shock was a numbness, my legs going weak with it. I locked them in place and kept my position.

Should I say something? Should I try to stop her? I didn’t know what else to say. Tabitha was my only friend up here. I’d lost contact with all my California friends during the move.

My mind skipped back over the past few months, hitting every highlight of when she’d lost patience with me. She’d never been patient with my love of fantasy and when we’d hung out, it had always been about what she wanted to do. In retrospect, maybe that had been a bad decision. Maybe I should have done something differently.

My chest constricted and I put a hand to it, trying to stifle the pain. My eyes burned with impending tears. I had the terrible suspicion I was about to lose a friend.

Loneliness, fear, and a sort of resignation tangled around the pain, but I didn’t know how to fix this. I’d already stopped talking to her about what I experienced. If I tried to be more like her, more ‘normal,’ then it would likely please her, but it would be a relationship based on a lie. I wasn’t like her. Pretending wouldn’t help anyone in the long run. I mean, I’d already tried to be more like her. The moment I’d deviated, she’d snapped.

But I didn’t want to lose my friend. Maybe if I apologized, and stopped reacting to anything strange in front of her, it would be enough of a compromise?

Emotions a jumbled mix, I turned toward the front door and the last carton of Ben and Jerry’s Rocky Road. This called for ice cream therapy. I’d call Nana too. Maybe she could help me figure out how to put me and Tabitha on a more even keel.

I’d barely stepped through the door when something slammed hard against the house, enough to rattle it. My heart leapt into my throat and I whirled around, flight-or-fight instincts kicking in. I reached automatically for the door, ready to slam it shut, but paused when I didn’t see anything. Nothing lurked outside except my car and the stillness of the evening air. Still, my nerves jangled, my instincts screamed.

The air was too still. No birdsong, no insects. Absolute stillness reigned outside my front door, reminiscent of what’d happened right before the wolves started battling—the stillness carried the same edgy sense of danger and alarm. Adrenaline rushed through me. I shut the door quickly, bolted and locked it for good measure, then stayed there for a long moment. There was many a creature that couldn’t cross the doorway of a home without invitation. Had something tried to jump me, only to be thwarted because I was inside?

I screwed up my courage and opened the blinds of the window, peering out, but I didn’t see anything. That didn’t mean nothing was out there. My vision of the magical world was still sporadic at best.

Swallowing hard, I went to every window and door, making sure they were all locked. Only marginally feeling better, I called Nana and tried to keep my tone casual to avoid worrying her. “Hey, Nana? What’s the best way to keep anything mythological and dangerous outside the house?”

Nana had eased some of my fears, but it still took more than a few minutes for my heart to stop thumping its way out of my chest. I had to do some deep breathing exercises and check every window and door three times, making sure they were secure before I settled. That had been beyond freaky.

After a few hours, I was able to put it out of my mind which meant my other problem leapt to the fore. What was I going to do about my fight with Tabitha? I’d never fought with her before and it left a sour taste in my mouth. I wasn’t sure I could say anything to Tabitha face-to-face and have it come out right. And I wasn’t sure if she’d calmed down enough to really talk either. I went with Plan B and texted her later that night.

Hey, girl. Still mad?

It took a minute before I saw the three dots, and then a small eternity for her to write a response.

yeah I am

So glad I was now doing this over the phone. She might strangle me in person.

I’ll stop acting like a weirdo, okay?

no more walking into walls, or castles, or any of that crap

I read that and winced. Nana had been kind but firm on her advice about this. She said lying to a friend would ruin the friendship eventually. She had some sympathy for me. After all, aside from Nana, Tabitha was my only friend, but she didn’t think it wise to apologize for any of this, nor pretend things were different just to keep a friendship. I kinda agreed with her, but the idea of losing my best friend…I couldn’t do it. The walls of this house already closed in on me too much as it was.

It was hard, but I typed in the promise:

I won’t say a peep about anything magical to you

Fine. You’re forgiven

I blew out a relieved breath. Okay, that’d worked. I tried to put us on a lighter note and asked,

You still want to go shopping tomorrow?

It took several minutes before I got a reply. It could be she was distracted by her family or something; I tried to give that pause the benefit of the doubt. But Tabby’s always quick to respond. I had a bad feeling she was deliberating, trying to decide if she really wanted my company while shopping tomorrow or not.

Finally, she said:

Sure. I’ll come get you. 10?

10’s fine

I lay the phone down on my ottoman and could feel the stressful tension leach out of me. Hopefully this worked. Hopefully I could pretend to be ‘normal’ enough around her.

Hopefully this effort didn’t blow up in both our faces.

The shopping trip on Sunday worked out just fine. Tabitha was her usual giddy self, talking a mile a minute about prom dresses being on sale and it was the perfect time to buy one for next year. I didn’t really care but went along, and it was almost like old times. It felt awkward at moments, to be honest, because it felt like we were both trying too hard to make it like old times. I still felt the rebound of her judgement, too, this silent demand that I be more normal like her.

Wednesday dawned and things were a little better. I sat in Sadistics, eyeing the clock above the blackboard and willing it a little closer to 9:05, when class ended.

Come on, come on, don’t fail me now, clock. You can speed up a little and release all the prisoners in class.

Mr. White walked down the rows, passing back tests, sometimes leaning in and saying quietly to a student that they’d need to see him after class. I had no idea if I’d passed the last test or not. I hadn’t been studying like usual, and math’s not my best subject, but I didn’t feel completely lost taking the test. That was a good sign, right?

He came to me and passed it back with an enigmatic smile on his face. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt on this one.”

I took the test without looking at it, not understanding what he meant. “Huh?”

“Look on page two,” he directed, then kept walking.

I checked my grade first, and I’d gotten a B-, which made me happy. Curious what he meant, I went to the second page and saw the comment he’d written about midway: ‘I don’t know how, but you used the wrong formula and got the right answer.’

Oh. Well. Go me?

The bell finally rang, and Mr. White called out to the class in general as we left, “Be good, people!”

I’d never understood why old people said ‘be good’ while leaving. Couldn’t do that, Mr. White. Already planned a riot, a few stabbings, and a bank robbery. I mean, really. What did they expect us to get up to? While IN SCHOOL. Shaking my head, I crammed the test into the front folder of my binder, shoved it into my backpack, and efficiently zipped it all up. As I heaved it onto my back, I once again caught something out of the corner of my eye that should not have been there.

Whipping my head around, I stared through the window at the ‘empty’ lot. Once again, the castle was in full view. This time it didn’t poof back out of existence in a few seconds, but lingered, the white of the walls shining in the morning sun. The air above and around it glimmered, almost like a dome of intricate light that wove around the castle. The gated entrance in the thick walls surrounding the castle opened, and as it did, the view disappeared with an almost audible snap. I kept staring in that direction, swallowing hard past the lump in my throat. The visions I saw of the magical world kept getting stronger, lasting longer. I didn’t know what it meant.

Or rather, I had a feeling I knew exactly what it meant and I really, really hoped I was right.

I’d be the first to admit I was absent-minded sometimes. I’d misplaced keys, shoes, chapstick, homework, and on one memorable occasion, I’d accidentally left the TV remote in the freezer. Long story on that one. But as much as I’d misplaced stuff, I at least recognized everything I owned. I’d never picked up anything and said to myself: Huh. Self, where did this come from?

At least, not until this morning.

The alarm went off, making a more frog-like dying noise than usual. I tried slapping it quiet and accidentally knocked something off my nightstand in the process. It didn’t sound like a book (usually what cluttered up my nightstand), and in my half-awake state, I couldn’t think of what else it could be. Rolling over, I let my head dangle off the side of the mattress and blearily looked down at the carpet.

Glasses.

Odd. I didn’t wear glasses. Tabitha didn’t wear glasses. My parents did, but not like these. They were square frames, a turquoise color, rather pretty and in fashion. I certainly hadn’t seen anyone wear something like this and had no explanation for why they’d be on my nightstand. Now on my carpet. Same diff.

Rolling out of bed, I scooped them up, then curiously tried them on. They fit perfectly but didn’t seem to mess with my vision any. Not a strong prescription, then. Shifting my curtain aside, I looked out the window to test them further.

The world meeting my eyes was unlike anything I’d seen before.

Astoria was a small, sleepy town on the water, nothing remarkable about it aside from being set in a pretty location. But now—now it was anything but mundane.

In front of my incredulous eyes, I saw two gargoyles fly past my window, and a woman in a pointy hat strolling along the sidewalk chatting with…I was actually not sure what he was. A half-shifted werewolf? That was what he looked like. I took a further look down the street. What had been a vacant shop now bustled, the door opening back and forth, different creatures carrying out steaming paper cups. Fairies flew about inside the shop, back and forth along a wooden bar, and creatures of all sorts were either milling about inside or sitting at small, round tables. I stared harder as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. The gilded letter on the large picture windows read FairyDust and in small lettering under it: Your source for brews and pick-me-ups.

Wait. I had a magical coffee shop right across the street from me?!

I blinked, pinched myself, testing if I was still dreaming. The pain was real enough but I gave myself a slap on the back of the head, not believing the sensation. No, still awake. Stonking deities, was I really seeing the full magical world?!

The glasses. The glasses must have done it. I had no idea who’d left them here for me, but I wasn’t looking this particular gift horse in the mouth. No siree. I liked the metaphorical horse. I was keeping them on as much as possible. They could have the glasses back after prying them from my cold, lifeless hands.

Giddy with delight, I bounced up and down, did a few cheerleader moves I wouldn’t be caught dead doing outside my room, and burst into Queen’s “We Are the Champions.” Finally! After two and a half weeks of constantly trying to get past that magical barrier, I’d crossed it. No more frustration for this girl, nope.

I giggled my way all the way through a shower, which was hardly dignified, but who cared? I couldn’t begin to tamp down my delight. It was Friday, which made things even better. I only had to pretend to pay attention for several hours before I was home free and could really explore the town and the magical community.

This week had been…trying. I did my best to act ‘normal’ in front of Tabitha, but I’d slipped up several times. It’s just not possible to act normal when you hear something creep up behind you, or feel someone bump into you. I didn’t know to not react until I looked around to see what happened. Every time I did it, Tabitha got this tight look to her face, and really, what could I say? Sorry for my instincts?

I did the best to bridge the gap anyway, acting more ‘me’ but also less ‘me’ too. If that made sense. I tried to get along with her as I’d always done, but stopped bringing up anything dealing with the books and anime and RPG games I liked to play. Anything hinting at fantasy, I stopped bringing up. It didn’t leave me much to talk about. Tabitha seemed content to fill the silence, though, and most of the time I just listened and threw in a word when I could think of something to say.

It’d left me with knotted emotions I didn’t want to think too hard about. So having this, this pair of glasses, brightened things considerably for me. I wouldn’t be chasing shadows any longer. For me, I had the absolute proof I was right all along. Even if I couldn’t prove it to anyone else, I’d be alright. Although when I showed Nana, she’d be over the moon. I couldn’t wait to blow her mind.

I stayed in a radiant mood while I got ready for school. Humming to myself, I made sure I had a book to read during lunch, my ever-present sketchbook, and then headed off to the races. The drive into school was entirely different than usual. I knew this road well—or thought I had—a normal enough street in a normal enough town.

The view on the other side of the glass panes was anything but.

Eyes wide, I watched numerous mythological races walking, flying, or in one case swimming in the channel. Magic thrived all around me, had all this time. There were magical doors set right inside regular doorways that led into places that looked nothing like the world I knew. Buildings that were ‘for lease’ were actually coffee shops, or barber shops, or restaurants. There were fairies in the parks, gargoyles and dragons flying overhead, creatures I didn’t recognize walking down the sidewalks. If I tilted the glasses down, I could see their disguises—the fairies were nothing more than flowers, the creatures resembled regular humans, the gargoyles and dragons looked like birds. I didn’t like their illusions. I kept the glasses on.

Getting to school felt more like a disciplinary action than usual, and it took serious willpower plus a few mental bribes to drag myself inside its doors. I went from class to class as the ringing bell dictated, but honestly, I didn’t learn a thing. My attention stayed firmly planted on the view outside the windows.

I kept a running list of everything I saw, and so far, it looked like this area was very heavily populated with different races. In my tally, I counted twenty so far, and those were just the supernatural races. I wasn’t counting the human-looking ones I saw. I couldn’t tell from this distance if they were magical practitioners of some sort—druids, shapeshifters, vampires, or what have you. Well, no, likely not vampires. They were notoriously nocturnal, and even if I was drawing from fantasy books, with all their various tropes, I didn’t think that one thing would be wrong. Regardless, a lot of species lived in this small town. Which surprised me. No clue why, it just did.

I kept Nana’s warnings to heart. I really didn’t understand this other world, and I’d best be cautious until I learned the rules. Still, I couldn’t help but want to explore. I could safely go about the town, after all, and observe. It wasn’t like they could tell by looking at me that I could suddenly see past the illusions.

School dragged interminably but passed in the blink of an eye at the same time. I rushed out the doors faster than usual, threw my backpack into the passenger seat, and sat there for a moment staring at the four-story Japanese castle on the ‘vacant’ lot.

Smug didn’t cover it at the moment. I finally got to see that thing properly. “I’m on to you now, ducky,” I cackled.

Ahem. Too evil witch. I’d better tone that down a bit.

Putting the car into gear, I sped off for the shopping district. It would be the easiest place to observe and not look suspicious, as people were supposed to loiter while shopping. It wasn’t a very large place, but still, it had a few benches along the sidewalk. I found one with a good angle to see most of the walking square. Then I settled in, sketchbook propped up on one knee, and observed.

Gargoyles, as I’d seen before. Werewolves. Werepanthers, which were also apparently a thing. A few wind sprites dancing around. Kelpies trotting along, gnomes, a brownie couple arguing heatedly back and forth as they passed not a foot away from me. The midnight dark horse with the elegant carriage and wicked gleam in his blue eyes I believed was a pooka.

Mixed in with the European races were a few Japanese ones. Bakanekos, tengus, I even saw an inugami—a dog spirit—trailing along after a youkai monk. I felt sure there were more I wasn’t seeing, as this was a very strange collection to have in one place. The Japanese castle made it clear to me there had to be at least a few races from that country here. The casual way the many races mixed in with each other was unexpected, to say the least.

Just what was going on here? Why would either location’s mythological creatures be in the United States, of all places?

I observed for several hours, doing quick sketches of anything I didn’t recognize so I’d have a reference on hand when I looked them up later. Maybe Nana would know, too.

My butt eventually turned completely numb thanks to the hard metal and wood. And I had a rumbly in my tumbly. A little reluctant, I packed things up and went in search of food. I wasn’t ready to pack in the day just yet, but it was time to take a break and get some fuel in me. Besides, I had the next two days as well. I could pace myself.

Getting to the car, I made a snap decision to order a personal pizza from one of my favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurants. I called the order in, then drove to the house and parked the car. The restaurant was barely a block away. I could walk there, eat next to the window with my sketchbook, and observe some more before heading back home. It was a good plan; that way I could be home before dark.

You know what they say about plans.

Halfway to the restaurant, I heard wailing and crying. It sounded like a dying cat being tortured, but I couldn’t immediately see any cause for it. Following my ears, I moved off the sidewalk and into the city park, eyes searching for the problem. And found it.

I stopped dead on the sidewalk and eyed the two little creatures on either side of the iron fence surrounding the park. They looked a little like turtles. They weren’t. They were, in fact, Japanese kappa with small green bodies, a dark green shell at their backs, and duck bill mouths. I recognized them from illustrations and anime I’d seen.

To be frank, I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Nana had warned me several times to tread cautiously. Seeing things clearly didn’t necessarily work in my favor. Observing the magical world was one thing, interacting with it another. The glasses were something of a gateway drug, in a sense. It gave me the illusion of control.

And it could very possibly lead me into trouble. Like now.

I stared at the kappa and felt bad for them. One of them was crying, the other one hopping from foot to foot, frantic about how to help his friend. They looked very lost and very alone. I had a feeling I knew where they’d come from, too: the Japanese castle five streets over. All sorts of magical beings lived there; I’d watched them going in and out during school. Even if these guys weren’t from there, odds were good someone at the castle could help them.

This probably counted as a Bad Idea.

Biting at my bottom lip, I debated for a moment on what to do, but I couldn’t just ignore them. What was the use of being able to see the magical world if I never engaged with it? Putting my messenger bag down, I slowly approached them, then knelt about five feet away so they wouldn’t feel threatened by me looming over them. “Um, hi?”

Both kappa startled, staring up at me with wide green eyes. They looked terrified and trembled, rooted to the spot.

I gave them my best smile. “Don’t be scared. I’m not scary. Well, okay, my hair’s probably poofing from the recent rainfall, so I might look a little scary right now, but I’m one of the nice humans, okay? It looks like you two are in a pickle. Can I help?”

The kappa on the other side of the fence, the one inside of the park, started crying again, big tears that ran down his face. The one outside started crying too, gesturing toward his friend.

“He’s stuck. We’re lost.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling. The fence posts don’t look too tight, though. You can’t slip through?” Thank every sprite, angel, and pink hippo they spoke English. I did not know any Japanese and the communication barrier would have been brutal. I looked at the fence post with a measuring eye. I thought it would be tight, but doable. Kappa were about as big as a chihuahua and this fence was not built to hold something of that size.

“Iron burns,” the kappa mourned in unison.

I blinked. “Really? I thought that was just for the European races. You too, huh? Okay, uh…” I snagged my bag and rustled through it. Somewhere in here I had a Chinese silk drawstring bag. It held my cosmetics, but for this I could dump them out. “I think I have something in here with enough silk to shield you through the fence. Will that work?”

They stopped crying and blinked up at me hopefully.

I’d take that as a yes. Finding the bag, I dumped everything out of it, then carefully put my hand through the bar and snugged it over the kappa. He wiggled inside, helping me put it over him from head to toe. “Okay? Now, hold tight, I’m going to pick you up and pull you through.”

“Okay okay,” he chirped at me happily.

I very carefully pulled the little kappa free, making sure to not graze his feet along the bottom part of the fence. His friend did a little hop-skip-jump dance of joy when I put him down again, pulling the embroidered bag off his head. The kappa hugged each other, then grabbed my hand and hugged it between them, so grateful they were free. They felt cold to the skin, like a frog, and a little ticklish. I patted them gently with my free hand, feeling a goofy grin cross over my face. I was so glad I’d stopped and helped.

“Now, you said you were lost. Where’s home?”

“Big castle near the cherry trees,” the once-stuck kappa informed me, still nuzzling my hand.

Big castle near cherry trees…. “The one that’s Japanese-looking with the very thick wall around it?”

They got even more excited that I recognized the place. I guess when you were that small, the world seemed a lot larger than it actually was. I didn’t know how to tell them the castle in question was within throwing distance of my school and I walked there on a regular basis. Pointing down the sidewalk, I explained, “It’s down that way and five streets over.”

Following my pointing finger, they stared and visibly wilted. “Far,” they mourned to each other.

Yeah, with those stubby little legs, it might take them half the night to get there. I also didn’t like the idea of just leaving them with directions. I mean, they got lost literally five blocks from home. That didn’t speak of good directional skills. It was also after six, with the sun due to set in another hour or so. I didn’t know what magical predators hunted in this area, but I wasn’t curious enough to stick around and find out. I mean, vampires. Ghouls. Ghosts. Any one of those were a big no-thank-you in my book.

I made a snap decision and lifted my bag’s strap over my head for a cross-carry before picking them up. “Come on. I’ll take you guys home.”

The kappa leaned into my chest, getting my denim jacket wet, not that I really cared. This experience was too cool to worry about mundane things like wet spots. Besides, I had a captive audience to answer a few questions.

“Nice human witch?” the kappa in my right hand asked with a curious tilt of the head.

“Ah, no.” Did I look like one?

“Imagineer?” the other inquired.

And what was that? “No, I’m not really anything. I don’t think. I just have these glasses that help me see the magical world.”

They exchanged a doubtful look. Not supposed to be able to do that, huh. Yeah, the glasses didn’t make any sense to me either. I still had no idea who’d given them to me, or how they’d done it. Or why. Lots of questions still unanswered. “Hey, guys? I’ve only been seeing the magical world a short time. So help a girl out. What’s bad and dangerous in the area?”

“Gremlins.”

“Incubus,” the other added, and I didn’t appreciate the doubtful way he looked at me, like I might or might not be tempting to an incubus. I was aware my curvy build and crazy-curly black hair didn’t fit with society’s ‘goddess’ standards. That didn’t make me Frankenstein’s bride though, thankyouverymuch.

“Redcaps,” the other mentioned, still being helpful. Not that I knew what a redcap was. “Two spriggans in this area, but don’t cause much trouble.”

At least I knew what they were. Spriggans were grotesquely ugly fairies more prone to mischief than actual trouble. “Any manticore? Harpies? Goblins? Orcs?”

“Not near here,” the kappa intoned in unison. I suspected them to be twins. “Master keeps them at bay.”

Oh good, that’s a nice segue. “Who’s Master?”

“Master is master.”

Or not a good segue. “What type is master?”

“Master is kitsune.”

A fox spirit? Made sense. According to legends, the fox spirits were usually among the most powerful. “Master a good master?”

“Master is best master,” the kappa informed me proudly. “Master protects area.”

I’d seen signs it must be true, because as chaotic as the area was, I didn’t see any damage. No signs of fights breaking out. Well, aside from that one that I’d witnessed. The humans around us were completely oblivious they had mythical beings rubbing elbows with them. The kappa might be impressionable, but I didn’t think them completely snowed either.

That said, I may be young, but not stupid. I didn’t think just waltzing up to the gate of a castle compound holding who-knew-how-many mythical beings a good idea. They didn’t know me, I didn’t know them. I’d gotten some good information tonight, and I had a little bit better sense of what was going on around me. I was not going to push so hard I landed myself in trouble. There was no one to help me back out of it.

When we reached the street with the castle, I stopped in front of the school and set the kappa down. We were more or less across the street, which I deemed close enough, especially since a tengu and gargoyle stood guard at the main entrance. The doors were open, giving me a peek inside a spacious courtyard with all manner of different races going about their own routines. I’d seriously never expected so many different cultures to all be living in the same area. There had to be reason for that. Too bad I hadn’t thought to ask the kappa.

“Miss Human nice human,” the kappa told me, gave me a bow, then grinned before dashing across the street to the gate.

They were wet, but cute. I stayed planted, making sure they crossed the road safely, but they navigated through traffic just fine. When they reached the gate, the tengu knelt down and spoke with them. The kappa must have told him the teenage girl across the street had helped them because his head shot up and his eyes locked on me.

Yeah. Okay, maybe lingering here was a bad idea? I wasn’t sure if I was ready to meet everyone here yet. They may or may not be as nice as the kappa. I decided to err on the side of polite and gave him a bow, an awkward movement for an American girl. He stood and bowed back, eyes never leaving mine. Yup, time to leave.

I turned and walked back toward home, forcing myself to move casually, my heart pounding. I loved fairytales and fantasy; I’d literally consumed everything I could get my hands on. And the one underlying theme in all the stories? Don’t casually walk into the realm of the fantastical and expect to just waltz out again unscathed. Their values weren’t the same as a human’s. I’d done them a favor, so I wasn’t an enemy, but that didn’t automatically make me a friend.

Even as I warned myself, I couldn’t help but glance back. The kappa were still talking, excited, and more people had joined them at the gate to listen in. The tengu kept his eyes on me as I walked, but his face was too far away to read, so I had no idea what he might be thinking. The gargoyle stared just as hard.

Walk, Reagan. Just keep walking. Time would tell if I’d gotten myself into more trouble than I could handle by my good deed.

I awoke in my normally hostile manner, the alarm making a distressing weee sound, then a woooaargh, and a tendril of smoke escaped out the back before it went blip! Hmm. I might have just killed it.

My bad.

Still, my attention didn’t dwell on the dead alarm clock for more than two seconds. I had bigger, more pressing concerns. I’d made it obvious the day before that I could see and interact with the magical world, and I didn’t know what the consequences would be. It made my nerves do the shimmy-shake, and not in the good, happy sense.

The quiet of my empty house felt unnerving this morning. I’d kept the glasses in my hand as I slept because I was paranoid about losing them or having them taken from me. To make matters worse, I felt groggy and out of it. I hated toss-and-turn nights, where you felt more drained waking up than you did going to bed.

Unfortunately, it was a Saturday, so I couldn’t just roll back over. I needed to check in with Nana and go grocery shopping. I had absolutely no food in the house. Sighing, I pulled myself out of bed, showered, tamed my rambunctious hair in a quick updo bun, then pulled on clothes. I went through the checklist as I got ready. Keys, check. Phone, check. Purse, check. Pants, check. Sanity?

Sanity? Yoo-hoo?

And we had a runner.

Well, four out of five wasn’t bad. I’d take it. Stifling a yawn behind one hand, I balanced my purse strap on one shoulder as I went through the door, locking it behind me. Maybe I’d hit Sweet Aroma Café for a quick breakfast. There was a rumbly in my—

“Hello.”

I jumped like a stepped-on cat, whirling, putting my back against the door. My glasses went a little askew at the movement and I shoved them back up the bridge of my nose, taking in the seven-foot-tall gargoyle standing on my front sidewalk. He looked like he’d come straight out of Disney’s cartoon series, with the huge wings, the dark grey skin, the tail hovering just above the cement. He wore a kilt, though, and a white vest-shirt thing. Clearly, I was not awake if I’d missed his arrival.

Also, holy freaking crap, I’d never seen a gargoyle this close before. He was huge.

He stared at me while I stared at him while he stared at me and it got awkward. I pounded a hand to my chest, restarting my heart, and managed a squeaked, “Hi. Uh. Morning?”

He lit up in a relieved smile and it made him look much nicer—not as inclined to slaughter me and chew on my bones. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Yeah, uh, mornings are not my thing, I’m not really aware in the mornings, it takes copious amounts of caffeine to get me going or, you know, panic attacks; panic attacks can wake anyone up, and what can I do for you?”

It took him a second to decipher the question in the babble before he responded. “I’m Hanan of Mononoke Clan. Our master heard about what you did yesterday and wants to meet you and properly thank you.”

Well, well, well, if it wasn’t the consequences of my own actions. “Yeah, it was no big. I mean, it took me fifteen minutes to rescue them, and they were cute and thankful and answered a few questions for me, so we can call that even, yeah?”

Hanan just looked at me, brow quirked, as if he found me amusing.

“Uh, this is where you agree with me,” I prompted hopefully. When he kept looking at me, mouth curling up at the edges, I groaned. “No dice?”

“No dice,” he agreed, outright smirking now. “Come on, it’s not like entering the wolf’s den. Master’s kind. He’s just very, very curious. We thought we knew every witch or Imagineer in the territory.”

There was that word again. “Yeah, so, um, I’m not either? I can just see you guys, that’s all.”

“Then that’s even more curious. Come…I’m sorry, I don’t know your name?”

Hard core rule here, don’t give anything magical your full name. “Call me Rae. And like, I’d go with you, but I’m supposed to do responsible adult things like grocery shopping.”

“Teenagers look for opportunities to be irresponsible,” Hanan pointed out, still amused.

He had me there.

Gargoyles, traditionally speaking, were always the protectors. They were the fourth race of man, the ones meant to defend territories—usually castles—and humans, as a general rule. I was faced with the question: How much did I trust the legends? Could I believe he wouldn’t hurt me, that he was a protector, the way the legends said? The way he joked with me, I didn’t think him a bad guy, and truthfully? If he really wanted to harm me, he could have already done it. There were definitely pros and cons to going with him blindly into that castle but the pros outweighed the cons. Taking a breath, I said, “Let me change-out bags. Two seconds.”

“Sure,” he agreed casually.

I unlocked the door, darted back inside and moved keys, wallet, cellphone, and lip gloss to the smaller purse I kept hanging next to the door. With those moved over, I used the privacy my excuse had bought me to text Nana that I was going into the castle. She would at least know what had happened to me if I didn’t show back up later, even though sending a rescue would be impossible.

That done, I gathered up my courage and went back out again, locking the door behind me. Only then did the logistics occur to me. “Um, meet you there? I doubt you can fit in my car.”

He looked at my Honda Civic doubtfully. “I doubt that too. I’ll fly overhead. You know the way to the castle, after all.”

“Yeah.” Pretty much a given at this point. I climbed into the car like this was no big, but my hands shook, and my heart beat out a Morse code against my breastbone. Man, this was crazy. As much as I’d daydreamed and wished to see the magical world, I’d never once thought I’d be invited into that castle.

I drove the short distance, Hanan flying ahead of me and just above. With no other real option, I parked at the school parking lot. Then I had to pause, getting my breath and shaking hands under control. Odin’s beard, I really wish I had someone to go in with me. This was nerve-wracking, going in by myself.

Hanan landed next to my car and opened the door for me, like I was a grand lady of some sort, holding my hand to steady me as I climbed out. The touch of him somehow made it even more real. His warm hand sported calluses, a hand that dwarfed mine. His skin oddly felt like warm granite, it was that hard.

“Here, put this on. It’s a glamour charm. This way it won’t look odd to passersby when you walk into the castle’s barrier.”

I had wondered about that. The charm was a Hag stone, a natural seastone with a hole worn in the middle through waves and time. It was strung on a leather string and I dropped it over my head, letting it fall naturally to rest over my collarbones.

“Hanan, just curious. How tall are you?”

“Eight feet,” he answered, white teeth flashing in his dark grey skin. “I’m a little on the short side.”

“Short. Riiiight.” I stood as tall as his solar plexus, which was ridiculous; I wasn’t that short for a girl. “So, before we go in there, how do I greet the master so he doesn’t take my head off?”

“You bowed the other night when you brought the kappa home,” he pointed out, all calm and logical. “Just do that again. And address him as Mitsuki-sama.”

Japanese honorifics. Got it. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Sure. And breathe, he’s not going to eat you. We’re just really curious about you, and a little worried.”

Since he said that while making his way across the street, I lagged a second behind him and had to scramble a bit to catch up. “Worried?”

“Because we’ve seen you around town, especially the last three weeks, and it was clear you were catching glimpses of us. We kept thinking the barriers were failing, but we couldn’t find anything wrong. And then our resident Imagineer—her name is Zoya, you’ll meet her in a minute—she said you might be an awakening Imagineer. And that’s a dangerous slot for you. You’ve got the power to walk in the Magical World but no protections. And there’re not many of you Imagineers. We do what we can to safeguard you when we find you.”

I filed away every word, greedy for the information. “Why are Imagineers rare?”

“I’ll let Master Zoya explain. She knows more than I do, after all.”

We reached the edges of the barrier at that point. At least, I assumed it to be the barrier. A shimmering transparent dome covered the castle from the tip of the roof down to the sidewalk. It was pretty, almost sci-fi looking—lines and words scrawled along the dome in glowing lines of power. Not that I could read a word of it. It wasn’t in English.

We weren’t the only ones coming into the castle. I passed several different individuals either coming or going, and they all gave me a curious look. This close, I could see what I presumed to be the faint aura of magic on many of them. It looked like a form-fitting glow—almost like they wore a tailored raincoat of transparent plastic, with colors and faint designs in the material. Only it wasn’t plastic, but something even more ethereal and with a light of its own. Some of their auras were stronger than others. I did wonder why but it didn’t seem the time to ask that question.

Hanan paused in front of the gate and addressed the tengu standing on guard. I’d seen various depictions of tengu, and this one seemed to be a mix of them. He had the black, feathery wings of a crow, the stature of a human, the feet of a bird, and the iconic small cap tied to the top of his head. He looked steadily down at me and because he didn’t tower like his gargoyle companion, it didn’t feel nearly as intimidating. “Shiro-san. This is Rea, the one Master requested a meeting with.”

“Rea-san,” Shiro greeted with a bow, the staff in his hands jingling a pleasant chime at the movement. “Welcome to Mononoke Clan. Thank you for your assistance. We were worried about the young ones, and were glad you brought them safely home to us.”

“Ah, my pleasure, Shiro-san,” I responded, with a bow in kind. I felt very Japanese doing it. “They were cute and friendly. I didn’t mind helping them.”

He gave me a slight smile. “Please feel welcome here. You will find Master directly ahead, in the receiving room.”

Hanan put a hand at the small of my back, silently guiding me through the thick wooden doors and into the courtyard beyond. It wasn’t empty, and my eyes darted around frantically, trying to catalogue all the races in here: sprites, gargoyles, tengu, kappa, a pegasus munching idly on the grass in the corner, two dryads, and a few others I couldn’t immediately put names to. A few looked entirely human, nothing about them indicating a race, which suggested to me they were shapeshifters of some sort. Or maybe magical practitioners?

“Does everyone live here?”

“No, this is an administrative office,” Hanan corrected me. “Everyone has their own territories; not all the races can live in the same area. Only Mitsuki-sama lives here.”

That made so much more sense. I’d wondered about the glimpses I’d seen earlier, and how all the races could cohabit the same space. Even a powerful demon couldn’t manage to override instinctual behavior on hundreds of creatures.

The paper doors ahead of us abruptly opened with a soft glide, and I saw a young woman kneeling next to the door with a hand touching it, looking at me curiously. She was some sort of Japanese youkai—the small horns near the top of her head indicated as much—but she wore a plain kimono with a white apron, which smacked of being a servant’s uniform, so I didn’t think her a very powerful person.

Beyond her, three people sat in the room, all of them on cushions, and they looked up as I stepped inside. The room was empty aside from them and a small table set in between them, holding tea cups and snacks.

One of them was obviously the kitsune master—a powerful fox youkai with several bushy white tails idly twitching behind his back, the white and blue kimono a perfect match for his waist-length white hair and stunning blue eyes. I felt a sharp twist of trepidation, as he wore his power like an aura even I could see without the glasses.

Remembering Asian manners in the nick of time, I toed off my shoes before I could step on the tatami floors and stopped just inside to bow. I had no idea how to say it in Japanese, so went with the English equivalent. “Excuse the intrusion.”

“Master, this is Rae,” Hanan announced. “Rae, let me introduce you to our master, Mitsuki-sama. To his right is Master Zoya, our Imagineer and ally.”

Zoya was a wizened old woman with her grey hair in a bun at the top of her head, but she wore comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt that dwarfed her. She looked very human to my eyes, but I could be wrong. Her grey eyes studied me with intent interest.

“And last but never least,” Hanan continued, “Brigid, of the Tuatha Dé Danann. She is visiting here and offering her wisdom.”

Opposite Zoya sat another woman who also looked human, except for the cat pupils of her green eyes. Her manner of dress didn’t indicate a race or profession, although the velvety green gown was lovely and a nice compliment to her startling red hair drifting around her shoulders.

I offered a smile, felt it wobble, but hung on tightly. Holy fudgesicles, seriously? An Irish goddess? What the strawberry cheesecake was I walking into? “Hello.”

“Hello, child,” Brigid offered with a stunning smile. I felt more than blinded by it. Yeah, okay, she was definitely a goddess.

“Come,” Mitsuki instructed, pointing to the open cushion in front of him and the two women. He wore a smile, either pleased I’d come into the fox’s den or pleased I was showing good manners while doing it. “Sit and speak with us. It’s not every day we see a budding Imagineer pop up in our own territory.”

I was halfway inside when his words struck and I slowed, staring at him doubtfully. “Ah, I’m not…whatever that is.”

“You are,” Zoya informed me, her voice raspy, as if she ate cigars for breakfast. Brows beetled, she made a show of looking me over. “A bit of a late bloomer, but sometimes the best Imagineers are.”

“You say that because you were a late bloomer,” Brigid observed, amused.

Zoya waved her off without even glancing that direction. “Sit, devushka. We have questions to ask, and you need answers.”

That was certainly true. And while the Tuatha Dé Danann had a fierce reputation (and not always a pleasant one), Brigid tended to be on the ‘fair, good’ side of the equation more often than not. Or so the legends went. I didn’t think she’d be sitting here calmly smiling at me if trouble was to be had. So I obediently sat, although not in the right style. I couldn’t maintain that for more than five minutes. This would definitely take longer than five minutes. I went cross-legged, as that I could hold.

“Thank you for coming,” Mitsuki said in his lovely tenor voice. He was otherworldly beautiful, as serene in appearance as the moon itself. I wanted to just stare at him for a few hours. “Please, sit at ease. I’m sure you are confused by being here, as it’s very different from the world you grew up in. Allow me to give you a sense of where you stand with us. The magical world has now opened its doors to you, as you can see, which means you are no longer what we call a Nix—a magically sightless human. In this territory, we have forty-six races from around the world, as this is a place of refuge for many. I am leader and arbitrator here, a Justiciar. You are welcome in my territory.”

Wow. Okay, just…wow. I was borderline speechless. Forty-six races?! I scrambled for a response, but all my mouth could produce was, “Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome. Hanan told you a little, I believe, on your way in? He’s never been able to resist embellishing his orders. Did he explain that you are a precious commodity to the clan? No?”

Shaking my head, I clarified, “He just said you wanted to protect me, as I was a budding Imagineer. Although, really, I’m not. I don’t have the ability to do magic.”

Mitsuki’s kind smile did not agree with me. “My dear, Rae-san, you have no idea what you look like to us. Your magical power is very obvious. Immature, still growing, but obvious. I am very curious to see what you will become once you have hit full maturity.”

I stared at him blankly. I really had magic in me? HOW?!

“Let’s start with the basics.” Zoya adjusted herself enough so she could look at me more comfortably without craning her neck. Her voice held a distinct accent. Russian, maybe? “You are an Imagineer. You have no idea what that means.”

Nodding, I agreed frankly, “Never heard the term before.”

“Hmm. Not unexpected. Those outside of the magical world do not know it. They mistake Imagineers as witches, wizards, sorcerers, and especially conjurors. But we are not those things. What we can do, devushka, is bring into the world something that was not there. We use our imaginations, our willpower, our magic, to form whatever we wish. If we want a barrier to be at that doorway, then it is there. If we want an apple in our hand, it is there. We have limits, of course, but the simplest explanation is this: we can create whatever we can hold within our mind’s eye.”

I stared at her. I kept waiting for the punchline. She stared back, those grey eyes of hers amused and patient.

“No, wait, seriously? That’s it? If you can imagine it, you can create it? No spells, no gathering up materials, nothing like that?”

“We,” Zoya corrected, grinning and showing crooked teeth yellow with age. She seriously looked to be Nana’s age or maybe even more. “Da. We can do that. There are limits, as I said, and I meant that. I will teach you more later. For now, this is what you must understand.”

Yeah, problem was, I didn’t understand it. Not at all. Didn’t that break several dozen laws of physics? Not to mention common sense. “Ooookay. Let’s say I understand that—I really don’t, but let’s pretend I do anyways—then explain to me why I’m a precious commodity to you guys. I mean, Hanan said something about Imagineers being rare?”

“Yes indeed,” Brigid answered lightly, picking up her tea cup with both hands in a small clink of china. “Imagineers are very rare. Only two percent of the population become Imagineers. Most are humans, but not all. Likely because most of the world population is human; it’s a numbers game.”

I blinked at her. “I, uh, could be wrong but isn’t that still over a hundred million people?”

“You are not wrong,” Brigid agreed, unruffled. “One hundred and fifty million to be more precise. But of those who awaken, not all are able to survive. The magical world is amazing, yes, but it is not without its dangers. Of those hundred and fifty million, we only know of approximately ninety-eight thousand.”

My jaw dropped as I realized the full scope of what she’d said. “In the entire world?”

“Quite. You see now why we say you are precious.”

“Stonking deities, do I ever,” I agreed faintly. That wasn’t many people in the scope of things. I mean, there were over seven trillion people in the world. Only ninety-eight thousand Imagineers wasn’t even one percent of the world’s population. “It’s really that dangerous? For people like me, I mean.”

Zoya picked up the thread of the explanation, and my eyes turned automatically to her. “It’s a combination of things. Some are too foolhardy, too quick to dive into dangerous situations without understanding their own powers. Accidental deaths are the leading cause of death for budding Imagineers. Some of them are not cautious enough in approaching the other races; they step through territories that should not be crossed. That’s the second main reason. We lose more through stupidity than anything else. We will not have that problem with you, devushka. I watched you for nearly three weeks, and you are not reckless. Curious, yes, but you were wise in your approach. You sat and observed. You made notes. You never once stayed out past darkness nor—” she canted her head and gave me a pointed look “—were you foolish enough to tell anyone your full name.”

I stared back at her suspiciously. “You say watch. I hear stalking.”

She cackled, not at all offended. “I wanted to get the measure of you. You’ll be my student, after all.”

“Can I ask a few things?” Since we were on the subject of stalking. “Why now? Why am I seeing anything now?”

“In part because your mind was open to magic.” Zoya canted her head a little, watching me as she explained. “Imagineers are not always born into a magical clan. Those who are develop young, as their faith in magic is instilled in them early. Those born outside in Nix territory often bloom late. Their faith in magic is constantly under siege. Often, it takes a trigger—an experience, a desperate wish, or some strong emotion to awaken their magic.”

I could see their curiosity and I, too, wondered, but if we were talking about strange experiences? One leapt to mind.

“I was coming home late one night and got a flat tire. Something or someone grabbed me, threw me into the backseat, and then I caught flashes of some sort of battle between a wolf and…something else. A manticore, maybe. I had three spikes embedded in my car during the fight.”

Mitsuki let out a satisfied hiss. “Ah, we wondered if that had been the trigger.”

I thought so. And my strong desire for magic to be real. “Did you have someone follow me after that night?”

“We did. Zoya went to repair the damage, and erase your memory, only to find traces of magic in your aura. She thought it best to wait and see if you’d develop properly on your own. Sometimes an Imagineer fails to realize their full potential and they’re sucked back into the reality of Nixes. Now that you have developed, you’ll be her student.”

Shelving the mind-erasing possibility for later contemplation, I took in this information with a nod and let it roll through my mind. Zoya was probably the only Imagineer in the clan, which made her the authority in my case, and likely the only option for a teacher. It felt weird to think of her being the sensei to my grasshopper self, mostly because Americans didn’t grow up with the idea of having a mentor. Not like this, at least. “You’re willing to teach me?”

“It will be my pleasure.” That wicked grin still on her face, she added cheerfully, “Perhaps not yours. But definitely mine.”

Did I want an old, possibly cantankerous Russian grandma to be my magical mentor? Did I even have another option?

“Don’t alarm her,” Brigid scolded Zoya. The words would have been grand if she didn’t also look amused. “Rea, you’ll be fine. Zoya is quite an excellent Imagineer. I have no doubt you’ll learn well under her tutelage.”

Glad one of us had confidence in that. I certainly didn’t.

“And while you learn, you will be safeguarded,” Mitsuki promised. “Even after you are a proper Imagineer, you will retain the protection of our clan. Your Imagineer powers make you a powerful aid and resource for us, but it does not automatically make you a strong fighter. Zoya can testify this.”

Zoya looked like she’d rather eat moldy bread, but grudgingly agreed. “Some of the supernatural races—vampires for instance—move far too quickly for human reflexes to keep up with. We can’t conjure protections up fast enough to battle everything. It’s best if you have a dedicated protector.”

I perked up sharply, taking this to the logical conclusion. If I had a dedicated protector—I automatically translated that as bodyguard—then they’d have to be with me constantly, right? Right. Which meant I wouldn’t be alone in that huge, empty house anymore? I’d actually have someone to help me if something went wrong, instead of me struggling through it on my own?

“Day and night, someone will be with me?”

The three exchanged puzzled looks. They’d apparently expected resistance. Mitsuki’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Especially in the beginning, until you are more experienced and mature in your powers. Then it will be up to you how much help you will retain.”

I bit my bottom lip, struggling to not leap on the man and hug him. I hated, hated being alone, and aside from Tabby, I didn’t really have anyone to spend time with. Nana, as sweet as she was, had such poor health she was basically locked into her care facility. It wasn’t the same thing. I couldn’t begin to relay to him just how amazing this proposal of his sounded. How dearly I wished for someone else at my side.

“I’d like that very much.”

Mitsuki sat back with a huff, once again exchanging looks with the other three. His eyes were penetrating, as if they could see through the back of my skull. “I find this strange. Teenagers are normally unruly and independent. You, on the other hand, seem quite excited to have someone assigned to you.”

Oh. Yeah, okay, I could understand their confusion. I didn’t know how to explain it, though, not without unloading a lot of personal history on him.

Mitsuki didn’t like my silence and pressed, “In the time we have observed you, not once have we detected signs of life other than yourself in the house. Child, where are your parents? Your family?”

I didn’t know if I should say this. Then again, they seemed to realize I was more or less on my own already. And if they didn’t know now, they’d figure it out shortly. “Uh. Well, I’m an only child. My grandmother is in a nursing home not far from here. My father’s in India right now on an archaeological dig. He won’t be back until Christmas. Mom’s a doctor with WHO and she’s in Africa. Nigeria, last I heard, although she was on the move. I also don’t expect her back until Christmas.”

“It’s May,” Zoya said flatly. “You’re telling me they leave you home alone most of the year?”

The defensive words tangled on my tongue. The older I got, the more I realized how selfish my parents were. I loved them, I didn’t want them in trouble, but it was a bit much to leave your teenage daughter to take care of your aging mother, wasn’t it? I looked down at the floor instead and shrugged.

“Not the first year I’ve been on my own. I guess I’m used to it? But, uh,” I brightened as the thought occurred to me, “it means whoever guards me won’t have to worry about maneuvering around them. There’s a few empty bedrooms in the house; they can pick one and just stay there if they want to.”

Mitsuki spoke in a low, very controlled tone. “I think it just became imperative someone stay overnight with you. We will find someone suitable.”

It sounded like he was super pissed with my parents. I didn’t know what else to say on that front and kept my mouth shut. I couldn’t really defend their choices. Besides, I was happy with the idea of someone staying with me. If nothing else, I had someone I could pester with questions, and that made the potential awkwardness of having a stranger in my space totally worth it.

“What do you want me to do about Nana? My grandmother. She already knows I can see you guys.”

Brigid’s head canted in question. “You told her, I take it? And she believed you?”

“My faith in the magical world, and most of my knowledge come from her,” I explained. I couldn’t help but smile as I said it. I was proud of Nana. “She taught mythology for years. She’s helping me sort the information I see, keep track of stuff.”

“Glad to hear you have at least one adult keeping track of you,” Zoya grumbled. “General rule, devushka, is we who are in the magical realm don’t tell people outside of it. It’s led to nothing but trouble in the past.”

I faltered. “So I can’t tell her anything else?”

“I think in this case an exception can be made,” Mitsuki determined, tracing his lower lip with one elegant finger. “She believes in the magical world, wishes no harm, and is your legal guardian. I do not see issue with reporting to her what we have discussed today. I wish to speak with her myself, in fact.”

And wouldn’t that be a doozey of a conversation. “She’ll be absolutely delighted. Although I guess she won’t be able to see your true form, huh?”

“No, likely not, although I can reveal myself if the situation calls for it.” Head tilted, he inquired of Zoya, “And you will introduce yourself as well?”

“Naturally. Have to take Rea on as an apprentice, that means speaking to her family.” Zoya pinned me with a look. “But not your parents. They don’t believe, do they?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. They indulge me, but that’s about it. Better to talk to Nana.”

“We will do so.” Mitsuki regarded me thoughtfully. “You are excited to be part of the clan?”

“Yes,” popped out of my mouth without any thought whatsoever. “Are you kidding? Yes. I’ve dreamed my entire life, wishing I could do this. That I could walk into the magical world and it be real.” Belatedly I realized I’d left my manners behind at some point and I gave him a seated bow. “Thank you, Mitsuki-sama, for reaching out to me. For offering me guidance and protection. I’d be lost without your help.”

He didn’t really smile, but his expression relaxed into open contentment. “You are very welcome. Stay and speak with your new master for a while. I must confer with the clan and arrange protection for you. Then, we go and speak with your grandmother.”

“Sure,” I answered steadily. He smoothly rose and walked out a side panel door, his nine tails swishing idly in the air behind him. I watched him go for a moment, considering everything I’d learned, then turned back to Zoya to find her watching me with a very crafty look on her face. “Um. So do I call you sensei?”

“Mactep,” she corrected me, grey eyes twinkling. “I am Russian, not Japanese.”

“Fair enough.” I prayed I remembered it. “So, Mactep, walk me through this. Why am I an Imagineer? Far as I know, magic doesn’t run in my bloodlines.”

Shaking her head, she corrected patiently, “Magic has nothing to do with your blood. It has everything to do with you. Who you are. What you are capable of. You are the main ingredient to Imagineer powers.”

I scratched at my cheek, wondering if all her answers were going to be like this. “Yeah, expound on that, please.”

“We call it ‘Imagineer’ for a reason.” Zoya took a sip of her tea, made a face, and muttered, “Always goes cold before I can drink it. Ahem. In order to be an Imagineer, you must have two qualities: a strong foundation in magic and a strong imagination. The combination of these traits allows you to mentally shape things in your mind’s eye and reproduce it magically into the material world.”

That sounded so stupidly simple that I doubted it. “Just like that.”

“It is harder than it sounds,” Zoya allowed. “And there are some limits to it. The more complex something is, the harder it is to make, as you must hold every layer of the object in your mind. For instance, if you were to make the cushion you sit upon, you must imagine the fabric that composes the shell of it, and the stuffing inside—two individual layers held in your mind’s eye. For most, the limit is four or five layers. The strongest Imagineer I’ve heard of could do a dozen. She was autistic, though. Her mind worked differently, which is why I believe she could do it.”

I felt like I should be taking notes but couldn’t tear my attention away long enough from the conversation to dig anything out. “So I can’t create something like a car, because that has way too many layers, but I could create something like a door, because it has, like, two.”

Zoya nodded. “Precisely. The more elements, the more complex it is, the more impossible it is to create it all and hold it within your mind.”

“Can I ask how many layers you can do?”

A smug smile played around Zoya’s mouth, eyes crinkling up into deep crow’s feet at the corners. “Seven.”

“She’s considered stronger than most because of it,” Brigid pitched in, pouring herself another cup of tea. “Rea, don’t you want a cup of tea or a snack?”

Belatedly, I realized there was a cup set out for me as well, a dainty thing that could sit in the palm of my hand. “Oh. Yes, thank you.” I’d never had Japanese tea before, or had a goddess pour it for me, but today was a day for new experiences, apparently. I accepted the tea cup with both hands, because I was terrified of dropping it, and then took a cautious sip. It was earthy and cool, like mint, and I smiled. “That’s nice.”

“Yes, Mitsuki has lovely tea,” Brigid agreed, pleased at my reaction.

Zoya flapped a hand at her. “Stop distracting her. Rea, it will take a full year to teach you. At least. The basics of what I can teach you will not take long, but I will supervise and train you for most of your time with me, so you do not accidentally blow yourself up.”

Her seriousness unnerved me. How many people accidentally blew themselves up? “Appreciated, thank you. But really, only a year?”

“A year for the basics,” Zoya corrected. “I would like for you to remain my student longer than that. There are many tricks to teach you, and mastering your Imagineer powers is not all you need to learn. You must also learn everything about the new world you’ve walked into. There is too much to teach you all at once.”

“Sounds like it.” Part of me felt overwhelmed by it all, but most of me tingled with anticipation. “Um, when do we start?”

“Not today,” Zoya answered thoughtfully. Her eyes went to the ceiling as she considered who-knew-what. “There’s much to do to prepare you first. We’ll start next weekend. I have a general guide of mental exercises I’ll give you first, as we must train your mind before you can do anything.”

That sounded reasonable to me. After all, I had at least one—potentially two—house guests/bodyguards I’d have to settle in with as well. And that would take at least two or three days, as the bedrooms at the house were completely empty. Moving them in would take a little while. Not to mention the kitchen and living room were something of a disaster because I’d been ignoring them for three weeks solid. I should probably clean up first before anyone followed me home.

“Okay. Um. How do I stay in contact with you?”

“I do have a phone, devushka,” Zoya answered, eyes twinkling in amusement. “The magical world likes technology, just like everyone else.”

So no Harry Potter-esque situations? Color me relieved. “Great. Can we exchange numbers, then?”

Zoya waited for me to pull my phone out of my purse and then rattled off her number. I saved it under Mactep to help me remember the word. She handed me her phone and I typed in mine. I almost didn’t put a name to it, but she was my master, right? She should know my full name. So I typed that in—Reagan Hunt.

She accepted her phone back and lifted both eyebrows to see my name there. “You were wise to be cautious, but those of the clan can know your name. They won’t abuse it.”

“That’s a relief,” I sighed, and smiled. “Good. Mactep, um, this might be a stupid question. But is an Imagineer a full-time position? Like, can I make this a career?”

“Of course.” Her head canted as she took me in. “It’s much like being a physician, or a repairman. There is always plenty of work to be done. Once you are trained, a master yourself, I can promise you you’ll be kept quite busy.”

That excited me. “So do I need to go to college?”

“A college degree will not help you in this,” she said with a shake of the head. “You must learn from me, and through your own studies. Learning from a Nixed institute of study has little benefit. A few have pursued degrees, though, and found it helpful.”

I put a hand over my heart, happy to hear it, and relieved as well. My parents were quite adamant about me going to college, but in truth, no career path appealed to me. I hated the idea of studying something for four years I had no passion about. Seemed like a waste of time and money. But studying under this woman and then stepping into a magical career I was talented in? Yeah, bring it. “That’s great. That’s what I would prefer to do.”

Zoya gave me a nod and understanding smile. “Da, it is a better fit for you. Ah. Mitsuki-sama, I see you have found two people?”

“So I have.”

I turned, rearranging my legs carefully as I did so to avoid knocking into the table, then stood as I realized he was followed by two men. Well, I say men, but only one of them looked remotely human. One of them stood tall and thin, his hair a romantic sweep of collar-length midnight black, mesmerizing deep-sea blue eyes set in moonlight-white skin. Handsome in an otherworldly way, he was sharply dressed in a forest green three-piece suit so dark it looked black. The other was short enough to be a dwarf’s height, also in a respectable-looking suit of brown, but he looked almost goblin to me—short, wispy, tawny-colored hair; pointy ears; sharp chin; his feet bare and clawed. Only difference was, he didn’t have green skin, more of a dark sand color.

Not wanting to be rude, I inclined my head in a sort of bow to both of them. That pleased both, and they smiled back and returned the gesture. Okay, bowing was good. Remember that.

“Rea, I have asked two of our stronger members to be your guardians,” Mitsuki informed me with an elegant gesture to the two at his side. “They very enthusiastically agreed. This is Klaus,” he indicated the shorter creature, “a kobold. Do you know what they are?”

My mouth went a little dry. Oh boy did I ever. The German kobold were much like an English brownie, or a French goblin. They were generally known to be the caretakers of a household. They were infinitely loyal to a family once they bonded to one, and as long as they were shown respect and not insulted, would stay with that family until the line died out. They were gentle enough on a day-to-day basis, but fierce and ruthless if riled. No one sane messed with a kobold.

I managed to find my tongue long enough to answer, “Yes, Mitsuki-sama, I’m familiar with the race in general. Mister Klaus, you honor me by coming to my family. Thank you.”

His mouth split in a grin, revealing lots of pointy teeth. “You’re well-mannered. Good. Mitsuki-sama said you were. I am honored to be chosen to safeguard a young Imagineer. Not many people are extended that invitation. You have a house for me to manage too, yes?”

“Uh, yes.” I winced at the knowledge of how I’d left it. “It’s, uh, well it’s really messy at the moment. I haven’t done many chores in the past three weeks. I was kinda distracted by, um, everything else.”

He tsked me. “That’s no longer your worry.”

Okay, as long as he wasn’t going to rip me limb from limb for leaving the house dirty, it was all good.

“And this is Ciarán,” Mitsuki-sama introduced with another wave of the hand. “He is a pooka.”

My eyes bugged out of my head. When Mitsuki called in the heavy hitters, he wasn’t doing it by half-measures, was he? The pooka were amazing shapeshifters from Celtic mythology, able to take any form from goat to seal. They were benevolent by nature, as they liked to be helpful to humans, often safeguarding them from malevolent fairies or spirits. But man, don’t piss them off. They were terrifying—all the legends agreed.

“Miss Rea,” Ciarán greeted with an elegant bow. “I am delighted to meet you.”

I had to reboot my mouth to get it running again. “Thank you, Mister Ciarán, nice to meet you too. Wow, uh, what can I say? I feel suddenly much safer now. Both of you have formidable reputations.”

They grinned at me in twin male delight over being described as ‘formidable.’ But then, I think most men probably liked to think of themselves as tough as nails. That attitude apparently transcended species. I glanced back at Zoya to get her take on Mitsuki’s choices.

My master regarded both men through narrowed eyes before stabbing a finger in their direction. “Both of you, you keep a close watch on her. She has no family to protect her. You are family now, da?”

“We won’t let anyone touch her,” Klaus promised faithfully. “We don’t dare. You’ll skewer us. If Mitsuki-sama doesn’t do it first. And truly, Rea, we are pleased beyond measure you’ve joined us. An Imagineer is always a blessing to a clan.”

I smiled back, trying not to feel overwhelmed by all this and failing completely. Yeah, I’d need to sleep on this for a while before it felt normal. “Thanks. Uh, not sure what to do first. You want me to show you to the house so you can figure out what you need to settle in? Or…Mitsuki-sama, you said you wanted to speak with my grandmother too.”

He nodded in confirmation. “Yes, but I have other business to attend to this morning. We can go in the afternoon. Show them to the house first, I’ll come and fetch you later.”

“Sure.” I wasn’t sure if Zoya intended to go with, but when I glanced back, she waved me on. Okay, then. I stooped down, collected my purse, smiled, and bowed a quick goodbye at Brigid, because not pissing a goddess off seemed like a good idea. Only then did I leave the room with my two new guardians.

Let me just say, nothing in my life prepared me to walk out of a Japanese castle with two intimidating creatures tagging on my heels like bodyguards. I wasn’t VIP enough for this, seriously. It felt awwwwkard. But at the same time, I looked forward to really getting to know them. As we walked, I kept glancing at them, one on either side, and tried to get a general idea of how they felt about this.

“So, um, did you really volunteer? Or were you voluntold?”

“We didn’t need to be commanded,” Klaus assured me, a benevolent expression on his face as he looked up to meet my eyes. “Mitsuki-sama came to us both and explained the situation. He didn’t even need to ask. You don’t understand your position among us yet, Miss Rea, but be assured we are very happy to be with you.”

Well that just gave a girl happy tingles.

“While we respect Master Zoya a great deal, we also worried about the near future,” Ciarán added. “She’s human and growing very old. We didn’t know what would happen to the clan when she became too old to work. Your discovery eases our minds.”

Oh. Yeah, duh, if their only Imagineer was in her golden years, of course they’d be worried about that.

“Yeah, makes sense. Well, I don’t know how you two want to work this. There’s three empty bedrooms in the house, and I do mean empty. No furniture in any of them. Mister Klaus, I assume you want to actually stay with me?”

“Yes,” Klaus said as if it was obvious. “I will remain in the house from now on. Unless, of course, you move, and then I move with you.”

It seemed a bit much for him to latch onto me so quickly, but I didn’t question it. According to legend, that was just how kobolds operated. They either liked you and followed you around the rest of your life, or hated your guts and chopped you up into a stew. “Yeah, I figured. Mister Ciarán, what about you?”

“Ciarán,” he corrected me with a sweet smile, lifting a hand to stay me before we exited through the main gate. “While you may be in training, you are an Imagineer. You are not below me in station.”

I blinked up at him. That seemed odd to me. Ciarán had the eternal, ageless look like most of the supernatural creatures I’d seen, but something made him seem middle-aged to me. Was it the square jawline? The wider width of his chest and shoulders? I couldn’t put a finger on it, but I knew he had to be much, much older than he looked. “Am I really?”

“You’ll understand in time,” he promised, giving me a pat on the head. I felt five. “And yes, I will live with you, at least until you are a master Imagineer. It’s too dangerous otherwise. Klaus is fierce, but there are dangers in this world that can threaten even him, and we do not want to leave your defenses up to one person. This way, too, we can switch with each other. Klaus will see to your protection at night, and I’ll be with you during the day.”

It sounded like a sensible approach, but I still felt surprised by it. They could drop everything they were doing and switch to protecting me full time? I’d have to dig into this later and figure it out. Otherwise it’d bug me. “Okay. Then let’s go, that way you can see which rooms you’d like. I guess ride with me?”

“Certainly,” Klaus answered briskly before stepping through the gate. “Hanan, Shiro, we’re escorting Miss Rea back to her house. From now on, anything regarding her is to be reported directly to myself, Ciarán, and Master Zoya.”

Shiro inclined his head in understanding. “We will do so. Do I understand that Rea-san is now a part of our clan and Master Zoya’s student?”

“She is,” Klaus confirmed.

“Excellent. Welcome, Rea-san.”

I smiled up at him and strangely felt a little shy. “Thank you, Shiro-san.”

We left them behind and crossed the street to my car. I slipped into the driver’s seat, the other two climbing in as well, and we drove off.

Thankfully, it was a short trip, which kept things from feeling even more awkward. I pulled up in front of my house and parked, all of us getting out, and I could see the way they evaluated the two-story thoughtfully. I paused after unlocking the door, wincing, and apologized over my shoulder, “Seriously, sorry about the mess.”

“It can’t be that bad—” Ciarán started, then got a good look over my head toward the inside. “Well. Perhaps it can.”

Klaus just sighed. “I see now why Master came to me.”

I shrugged, not knowing what else to say. I normally kept the house up better than this. But I doubted either of them would believe me at the moment. “So, um, let me give you a grand tour. This is the kitchen and dining room, obviously. There’s a formal living room through here,” I walked them through the dining room (which I never used) into the stuffy living room with its antique furniture and starched chairs, then through another doorway. “This is the library, and honestly, I spend most of my time in here.”

They took in the room with appreciation. It wasn’t a small room, and the walls were all built-in shelves, crammed with books, most of them mine. I had a single desk in the middle of the room where my laptop sat, and a brace of comfy armchairs next to the window. I adored this room. It was by far my favorite part of the house.

“It’s pleasant here,” Klaus noted. “The atmosphere of it speaks of comfort.”

I suppose a kobold would be able to pick up on things like that. I smiled at him. “Yeah. Anyway, upstairs are all the bedrooms, so if you’ll follow me.”

We trooped up the wide, wooden stairs, which honestly could use some dusting, and I gestured to the closed door on the left. “That’s my parents’ bedroom. You can just ignore it; they’re still semi-packed but don’t want me messing with any of it. This is the hall bathroom; it connects to the bedroom next to it. That one and the one next to it are empty. I’m in this one,” I gestured toward the right bedroom door at the top of the landing, “and the bathroom connected to it is mine. There’s another mini-master at the end of the hallway that has an en-suite bathroom. So, I guess, take your pick?”

“Klaus, you’ll be here longest,” Ciarán observed. “Why don’t you take the larger room? I’ll take this one, across the hall from her.”

Klaus looked pleased. “I will, thank you. Tell me what furniture and things you wish to be in the room and I’ll see to it.”

“I’ll make a list,” Ciarán promised. “But I think that can wait for a moment. Rea—”

“Uh,” I interrupted sheepishly, “my name’s actually Reagan. I wasn’t sure what Hanan was dragging me into before, so I gave him my nickname.”

They blinked at me. I could tell they weren’t irritated, but rather seemed to approve of my caution. “Reagan,” Ciarán corrected himself, smiling at me. “I’d like to know your daily schedule.”

Oh, duh. “Sure. I’m not complicated, really. I get up about 7:30, shower, breakfast, and then head to school. School starts at 8:15. I’m there until 3:00 and then I come home again. Before I started seeing all of you, I’d either run errands or just hang out here at the house in the afternoons. I normally go to bed about 10:00. On Saturdays, I go check in with Nana for a few hours.” I rubbed at the back of my neck, thinking. “I’m not sure how that schedule is going to change. I’ll likely be training with Mactep in the afternoons and on the weekends from now on. She hasn’t really talked schedule with me yet.”

Something about my response didn’t click with Ciarán. He kept staring at me, like a man waiting for the punchline. “And your friends?”

“Only friend I have is currently mad at me for believing in magic,” I answered with a forlorn sigh. “Tabitha. Not sure how that’s going to pan out, honestly. I’ve had to hide everything magical from her, and with today’s events, that’s going to make things even more awkward.”

“Boyfriend?” Klaus inquired, eyebrows climbing into his wispy hairline.

“Uh,” why were they looking me like that? “I don’t have one.”

“Human males can be such idiots,” Ciarán observed to Klaus with a sad shake of the head.

“Truly. But it does make our life easier.” Klaus took my hand in his, patting it, almost exactly like a doting grandfather. “Don’t worry, child. I’m sure a boy who isn’t an idiot will come along in due time.”

I wasn’t really worried about not having a boyfriend, but okay. I took the words in the spirit they were meant. “Thanks, Klaus. Well, what can I do to help you guys settle in?”

Mitsuki came and got me about two hours later in one of those sleek, black luxury sedans. Zoya sat up front with someone I didn’t know—a woman in a starched black suit with incredibly red hair—which left me in the back seat with Mitsuki. I didn’t find that nerve-wracking at all. I also have beach-front property in Arizona, if you’re interested.

I slid in and buckled up while giving him an awkward half-bow. “Hello. Thanks for taking the time to do this.”

With a wave of the hand, he elegantly shrugged this off. “It is only right we assure a member of your family of our good intentions. There will be mundane human administration things to be handled. Best to have a known guardian sign for you in those cases. At least until you come of age.”

Fair enough. Nana normally signed for me, anyway. My parents were impossible to reach overseas. The car started up and I belatedly realized I hadn’t told them where Nana lived. Leaning forward, I addressed the driver, “Do you know where Green Spring Retirement Home is?”

“I do,” she answered with a glance back at me. Her eyes were pure white, but clearly she could see. She narrowed them thoughtfully while looking back at me. “She’s there?”

“Yeah. Nana’s health doesn’t really let her leave the home. But it’s okay, she’s expecting us. I just texted her.”

“Then, shall we go directly there, Mitsuki-sama?”

“If you would,” Mitsuki replied. He had a certain flair about him, a mantle of leadership in every word he spoke. I had no doubt if he’d said otherwise, we would be sitting here in the car for the rest of the year before the driver dared to put the car into gear.

With a nod, our chauffer pulled out of the driveway. I really wanted to know what race she was. She didn’t fit any description I knew of, but didn’t know if it was polite to just blurt questions like that out.

Zoya leaned about in her seat enough to ask me, “Klaus and Ciarán are settling in?”

“Yeah, they’re moving in furniture and personal belongings right now. They said they’d be more or less set up by tomorrow morning.” And that had been a show in and of itself, watching them in action. Mostly Klaus, really, as the kobold’s method of ‘setting up’ a house involved some wicked cool magic. Apparently he had a pocket dimension he could access at will, and it held all sorts of furniture and clothes and thingamajigs. He could just reach into that dimension, grab what he wanted, and haul it into the house. I’d stood in the doorway of Klaus’s room, jaw dropped, watching him and remembering my own move from Cali to here with no small amount of envy.

Mitsuki watched me with careful scrutiny, his blue eyes penetrating. “You are pleased with my choice in guardians?”

“They’re great,” I said honestly, brightening. I really, really liked them already. “They’re super sweet, and Klaus already wrote down all my favorite foods and promised to take on all the bills and grocery shopping and stuff, and he unleashed his magic on the kitchen—which is awesome, I didn’t know a kitchen could be that clean—and Ciarán said he’d take cat form while following me around during the day, which makes me feel like one of those bad-a medieval witches; and I gotta admit that makes me feel wicked awesome, but he’s just this big teddy bear of a guy, am I right? I mean, he’s already hugged me once because he said I was too cute to not hug, and I’m not used to men just randomly hugging me, but I can totally get used to that; it just made me go squee inside, and I’m babbling, aren’t I? Sorry.”

The kitsune blinked slowly. “Did you breathe at all?”

I grinned at him sheepishly. “I tend to babble when I get really excited.”

“It’s almost a shame she’s not a spellcaster,” Zoya noted to no one in particular. “With that mouth, she’d cast far quicker than anyone could counter.”

Interesting. I asked curiously, “I don’t have any incantations or spells as an Imagineer?”

“You only need your mind and your will to cast,” Zoya corrected with a shake of her head. “No need to speak. Although many do. They find it easier with a release word.”

Huh. Well, good to know. I actually had a lot of questions, but we didn’t have the days it would take for me to ask all of them. I went with the one most immediately pertinent. “Mactep, when do you want to train me? In the evenings, after school?”

“We’ll do most of our trainings on the weekend.” She tilted her head to the side so I could hear her better. “I’ll have you study things during the week. The more knowledge you possess of the inner workings of things, young Imagineer, the more you can create.”

“That does make sense,” I said slowly. It was common sense, in a way. If you didn’t know how it worked, or what it was made of, you couldn’t duplicate it.

“And you’ll need to learn magical theory. One of the main things the Imagineers do is create pocket dimensions and shields. We can craft them faster and stronger than any other type of magician.”

I blinked at her. “Wait. Back up. I can create pocket dimensions? Like the one Klaus pulled furniture out of?”

“Yes, quite. Well, not exactly like that—the kobolds have their own inherent magic—but something very similar.”

I whistled, impressed. “Man oh man, can’t wait to learn that.”

“Later,” Mitsuki said, eyes crinkling up into a half-moon smile. “First, answer some questions for me. Your grandmother, what is her name?”

“Julie Hunt,” I supplied. “I did mention the head of the clan was coming to meet with her, and your name. Nana’s old, her health is really bad, but her mind’s still very sharp. Don’t be afraid of her not understanding you or remembering the meeting.”

He dipped his head in understanding. “We do not normally leave anyone outside the clan’s boundaries, or without our protection. It is…unwise, generally speaking, to do so. May I ask why she is in this home? Is there care you cannot provide her?”

I didn’t know his reason for asking this, but if he thought there might be a way to take her out of the home, and closer to me, I was all for it. Nana would likely be too. She didn’t mind staying at the home, but it wasn’t her preference.

“Nana had hip surgery and it didn’t quite heal right. Her inner ear is off, too, so her balance is really, really bad. She finds it difficult to walk straight and she’s constantly bumping into things. Her blood pressure also spikes through the roof occasionally. Her feet are so swollen, it’s hard for her to move any real distance. Honestly, she’s in there because I’m not strong enough to lift her, and someone has to keep track of her meds and cook a special diet for her.”

“So if I can arrange care for her, would she prefer to live with you again?”

Hope rose in me so fast I went dizzy with it. “Mitsuki-sama, that would be so awesome, you have no idea. It’s what she’s wanted to do, really, but we didn’t see a way around her poor health. Especially with the house…” I trailed off, biting at my bottom lip as I remembered the layout of the house. “All the bedrooms are upstairs. With her bad balance and hip, she can’t do stairs.”

“We can connect a Door for her to her bedroom,” Zoya assured me. “One of the downstairs doors can be converted over to a portal, allowing her entrance into her bedroom. She won’t be as constrained that way.”

I was all for this, but another doubt reared its ugly head. “But what about when my parents are home?”

“We can undo it and re-arrange things temporarily until they’ve left again.” Mitsuki seemed wholly unbothered by all this. “But I’d prefer her under clan protection. Out here, she is on the edges of my territory and that…disturbs me. I do not think it wise to leave her here.”

The magical world was dangerous. No one had told me yet all of the dangers, but the precautions they took now, and the mythology I’d spent the better part of my life studying, all told me those dangers were not to be taken lightly. If he wanted to safeguard Nana before something nasty got ahold of her, I was so not arguing.

With a slight dip, the car left the highway and turned into the small parking lot of the retirement home. We all hopped out, me going around to the side entrance and signing into the guest book there—they liked to keep track of people. Then I held open the door as they came through and into the sunroom.

Nana sat alone, aside from one other elderly man sound asleep in the far corner and snoring like a chainsaw. No need to worry about him. She turned her head to see who’d opened the door, then her eyes went very wide in her wrinkled face. “Rea? I know you said to expect…but….”

I grinned and darted in for a hug. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Mitsuki-sama, Mactep, this is my grandmother, Julie Hunt.”

Mitsuki came in and took Nana’s hand in his before bowing over it, respectful of her, despite the fact he was likely far older. “I am honored.”

Nana managed a half-bow back. “Thank you for coming, Mitsuki-sama.”

“Zoya Mikahilov,” Zoya introduced herself, coming around to shake hands. She gave Nana a quick once-over, then grunted in satisfaction. “I see where she gets that curly hair from.”

“Yes, she comes by it honestly,” Nana acknowledged, with a rueful pat to the rambunctious and thick bunch of curls caught up in a high ponytail on her head. Even with her age, her hair hadn’t thinned, only turned white. “Please, all of you, sit. I have a feeling this will take a while. Rea called me earlier and told me the bare bones, but I have many questions about all this.”

“I’m sure you do.” Mitsuki pulled up a nearby chair and sank into it. He looked very much the slick businessman in a navy blue suit, although his white hair and pale skin didn’t match with the image. He’d done something to fold up his tails, or placed a thicker glamour over them, as he looked almost human. Seeing him sitting on a floral cushioned chair threw my brain for more than a few loops.

As they settled into chairs around her, I folded up and sat on the ground next to my grandmother. I wanted to stay close but there weren’t enough chairs out here to manage that. Zoya hissed at me, jerking a thumb up, and I popped back up again, confused.

At least, right up until she conjured a padded stool for me to sit on.

I startled and stared down at it incredulously. That space had been clear not a second ago. Holy banana smoothie, it was that easy? That instantaneous?

“Sit, devushka,” Zoya prompted in exasperation. “The stool won’t bite.”

Yeah. Uh-huh. I’d just sit like it wasn’t a big deal to perch on a stool that didn’t exist two seconds ago. Let me get right on that.

Nana cleared her throat, voice higher in pitch than normal as she observed carefully, “That is quite a neat trick. Imagineer, you call it?”

“Da. Koldunia is likely the term you know. Magicians who use spells. We Imagineers don’t need such things.”

“I can see that,” Nana said, eyes still a trifle too wide. “Well. I now have a better understanding of what you can do. You’ll be my granddaughter’s teacher?”

“Da,” Zoya agreed again with a somewhat Gallic shrug. “I’m the only Imagineer in this area of the country, so not much choice in that. And Mitsuki-sama took her into the clan to protect her, so she’s ours to teach, regardless.”

I didn’t remember at all agreeing to that, but I suppose the moment I agreed to their help, it’d been a forgone conclusion.

Nana glanced at me, checking to see what I thought of this. I smiled and shrugged. “Okay by me. We’ve got a schedule worked out so I mostly train with her on the weekends.”

“Hmm. You’re quite certain Rae has the talent for this?”

Zoya snorted a laugh. “If you could see her as we do, you would not ask. She glows with magic. Devushka, lend her your glasses for a moment.”

I blinked at her, startled. “You know about my glasses?”

“I can see the spellwork on them,” Zoya answered with an impatient wave of the hand. “And you don’t need them, not anymore.”

That made sense…mostly. I wasn’t entirely sold; it wasn’t until the glasses I’d been able to see the magical world freely. Or had they been meant as a crutch to help me over that last hurdle so I could see properly? I didn’t know, as I still didn’t understand where they’d come from. Either way, letting Nana use them for a few minutes didn’t hurt anything. I took them off and handed them over.

Nana settled them on the end of her nose—her face was wider than mine, she couldn’t put them on properly without bending the frames—and looked about with a low whistle. “I see what you mean.”

I looked around as she did and was a little startled that I could still see everyone as well. They just looked a little fuzzy, not as crisp. Did that mean my magical sight was still growing in?

Nana focused entirely on me and smiled, the expression a trifle bittersweet. “You do glow, honey. Like you’re wreathed in fireflies.”

That sounded cool. I smiled back at her. “I haven’t done any magic yet. But I’m really excited to learn.”

“I think anyone would be, in your position.” Satisfied, she took the glasses off and handed them back. “Alright, Mitsuki-sama, Mrs. Mikahilov, I’m satisfied you’re not pulling my leg. What now?”

Mitsuki spoke with care, each word weighed for effect. “The world around you has changed. Because you will have direct contact with your granddaughter, who is a member of my clan, dangers that ignored you before will now take notice. I have arranged for protection to be with Reagan-san, and I wish to do the same with you.”

Nana blinked back at him and asked ingeniously, “Can I request my bodyguard be sexy?”

No one seemed to quite know how to respond to that.

I smacked her on the arm. “Will you please be serious?”

Snickering at her own joke, Nana flapped a hand at him. “I’m kidding, kidding.”

“My grandmother has an irreverent sense of humor that likes to pop out and wave flags around sometimes,” I explained with a roll of the eyes.

Mitsuki lost his rigid, formal bearing enough to actually smile at Nana, eyes twinkling mischievously. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

Nana beamed back at him. “I had a feeling we’d get along. Mitsuki-sama, just so I’m clear, what dangers are you worried about?”

“There are always mishaps,” he sighed with aggravated resignation. “Our clan’s territories actually end with the city limits, then go west toward the coast. We have a wide area, but another clan’s territory starts up just a kilometer or so further east. This home is in a grey buffer area that doesn’t always stay neutral. There’s a wild pack of werewolves who roam through this area, two rogue vampires, and a family of spriggans who refuse to adhere to any rules whatsoever and routinely cause trouble. This doesn’t include the magical mishaps we have from time to time, or the odd ghost who lashes out. Our barriers are constantly being renewed, our portals re-calibrated as renovations and new construction changes the area, and all of that threatens the safety of our clan as a whole.”

“World’s seen some unrest, too, and we get the odd refugee coming through,” Zoya pitched in unhappily. “Sometimes for the good, sometimes not. Mitsuki-sama’s Night Parade came to us about eight years ago.”

Mitsuki inclined his head in sad agreement. “We are originally from Sendai, Japan. But the Great Sendai Earthquake destroyed our home.”

I sucked in a breath of sharp understanding. The Great Sendai Earthquake was the largest earthquake to ever hit Japan. It’d been massive in its destruction, causing a tsunami that swept the mainland and killed over ten thousand people. It’d caused nuclear accidents, destroyed infrastructure, and there was still damage they were trying to either fix or clear out even today.

No wonder they were here. I’d wondered why so many Japanese races would be so far from home. But if they were from an area so completely destroyed, they’d have to look for another home.

“I was acquainted with the leader here,” Mitsuki explained, his sadness becoming bittersweet as he looked past us into memory. “Porter-dono. His clan was not large, but he was capable. Also human, and very old. He had no issue, no children to pass the mantle down to. He reached out to us, offered us a place here, with the understanding I would take over his clan once he’d passed on. It was a very generous offer and we accepted.”

So they’d been here for eight years, with Mitsuki only the leader for…well, since Porter died. I said the only thing I could think of that didn’t sound insensitive in my head. “I’m glad you all survived it.”

Mitsuki reached over and patted me on the head. “You are kind, child. Thank you. We are happy to be here, although sometimes homesick. Because we are still relatively new to this territory, I am cautious about security. I do not know everyone in this area yet. Some are more cautious about approaching than others. There are two points I wish to discuss with you. First, we have a magnet school here for our younger clan members. I believe it would be beneficial for Reagan to attend it instead of her school.”

I blinked. “Really? How big is the student body?”

“Not large. Eighty-five children, and it goes from kindergarten through high school. But we have excellent teachers and I feel the environment will be more suitable for you to learn in.”

I felt inclined to agree, but wasn’t sure if it was wise to just jump in. I looked to Nana, and she also had a thoughtful expression that said she wanted to think on it. “We’ll consider it, Mitsuki-sama. I’d like to take a tour of the school before deciding.”

“Of course. We can discuss this later. The other point I wish to discuss is your living arrangements. Hunt-sensei, I believe we can arrange care for you. You could live with your granddaughter. Will you choose this option?”

Nana looked at me steadily, searching my face for my take on it.

“We actually talked about it on the way here,” I filled in for her benefit. “I’ve got a kobold and a pooka living with me, and I think they can handle most of what you need. Oh, and we can spell one of the downstairs doorways so it connects directly to your bedroom. That way you don’t have to worry about the stairs. If you need to, we can still hire a nurse to help with the meds and stuff? But day-to-day essentials, I think Klaus can do it all. He’s pretty handy. I mean, he’s kobold—taking care of my family just comes with the territory.”

She accepted this with a slow nod before looking toward Mitsuki again. “You’re certain I won’t be a burden?”

“My dear Hunt-sensei, it would be a relief to have one such as you inside my clan,” he assured her sincerely. “You have taught our Reagan-san much about our world, you believe in us, and are our advocate. We would be delighted to have you.”

“Well. Put like that,” Nana’s face lit up in a smile, “sign me up.”

We came back to the house to see Klaus wandering around the outside, slapping the siding with an open palm and scowling fiercely. Never a good thing when a kobold did that with a house. We pulled into park, and I hopped out as soon as I could safely do so, popping up on the edge of the doorway to look over the hood of the car. “Klaus? Is something wrong?”

Still scowling, he stomped toward me, gesturing toward the house as he came. “Reagan, this won’t work. The house is too dead, it’s not cooperative at all. I need to change it.”

I ran that through my head. Twice. Nope, still didn’t make sense. “Uh, are houses not supposed to be dead? I mean, they’re inanimate. Usually?”

He flicked this notion off in a sharp gesture. “Not for us. Our homes are our protection. They should be aware of things. This is ridiculous, I can’t get any sense of the house. I’ll have to make it alive.”

That sounded potentially cool, but I still wasn’t clear on what he meant. “Are we talking AI-intelligent alive, or…?”

“Not either, devushka,” Zoya corrected, gesturing me fully out of the car. “A house can properly sense its people and respond. Not audibly, but it has ways of giving you its opinion. Klaus is right to change it. An Imagineer’s house especially must be aware of its owner’s needs. Now. Let’s go in and change things so your grandmother can come home tomorrow.”

Klaus’s attention snapped back toward us instead of scowling at the house. “She agreed to come?”

In all the discussion of us doing this, to my knowledge, no one had actually spoken to Klaus about it. But apparently someone had. “Yeah, she’s really excited. Is that okay with you, though? I mean, you’re the one who will be taking care of her, basically.”

The kobold actually beamed at me, his grin sharp with vaguely disturbing anticipation. “I look forward to it. Taking care of one person is no challenge. I prefer a household. You’ll give me a list of her precise needs.”

“I don’t actually know everything she needs,” I hastily denied, waving both hands in front of me in a warding gesture. “Better to ask her. But we need to change the bedroom and bathroom to have handrails for her. Her balance is really bad. And we’ll need to find a door downstairs to connect to her bedroom. She can’t do stairs.”

He nodded along, listening carefully. “I’ll arrange matters myself. Will she need me to adjust the glamours over everything? She’s a Nix, after all. She won’t be able to see through them.”

“Yeah, Mactep anticipated that problem and created glasses for her before we left. She’s good, she can see because of them.”

“Excellent. I’ll call and discuss things with your grandmother in a moment. First let me see to the house. We can do the necessary adjustments after she understands the needs of her people.”

I stepped off the car and eyed the house uncertainly. “Right. I’ll let you get on that.”

“Reagan-san,” Mitsuki called. When I ducked my head back down to see him, he continued with a gentle reminder, “Do not make the mistake of thinking you are completely safe within clan borders. You are safe-er. But there are those who would see a young, untrained Imagineer as a very desirable prize. Be cautious, do not trust things blindly, and keep your guardians with you.”

Knowing all the stories I did of shapeshifters and such, I had no doubt there were beings who would pretend to be my friend and really use me to their own ends. “I understand, Mitsuki-sama, and will take your words to heart.”

He smiled at me and ducked his head in a nod. “Good. We’ll check in with you later, when Hunt-sensei is established in her home. There are other things I must discuss with you both to settle you properly here, but they can wait for another time. You have quite enough to do as it is.”

“Can’t disagree there.” I shrugged, gave him a bow, and closed the door.

Zoya rolled down the window to pop her head out and add, “I’ll send you a few books to study this afternoon. Read through those, they cover the basics, and we’ll start from there on Saturday.”

“Yes, Mactep.”

Ciarán popped out of the house in a hurry, giving Klaus an evil look. “Really? You thought it a good idea to work that kind of magic on the house with someone still inside?”

Klaus shrugged, not even glancing in the man’s direction, his attention solely on the house. “You’re fine.”

The pooka’s glare made it quite clear he did not agree.

I didn’t think it a good idea to ask questions of someone working magic, but at the same time I was rabidly curious. What exactly was Klaus doing? How long would it take? Looking at the house, I couldn’t immediately see any difference. Klaus had a hand on the wall next to the front door, and certainly an aura of magic flowed around him and through the wall, but I couldn’t see the effect of it on the house itself.

Then the house pulsed, like a heartbeat. I jumped, beyond startled, and backed up three paces. Partially because it didn’t seem like a good idea any longer to stand too close to a major working, but also to get a better idea of the process. The house pulsed again, then again, like a heart starting to beat. The magical aura surrounding it grew from nonexistent to a faint outline of white along the edges of its silhouette.

Ciarán came to stand next to me, still looking quite put out. He didn’t seem to think any of this was remarkable. “How did your grandmother take the news?”

I had to tear my eyes away from the house to answer him. “With childlike delight.”

Head cocked, Ciarán regarded me curiously. “You said she was open to the world of magic, that she was the one who taught you about mythology, but she really accepted what she was told?”

“I let her borrow my glasses, too, so she could see everyone’s true natures,” I explained, eyes drawn back to the house. Was it my imagination, or did it seem to actually be stretching right now, like a cat rising from a long nap? I did not remember my roofline being that tall. “She was half-convinced something was going on, but seeing that sealed the deal for her.”

“Ah. Then I’m satisfied. I’m glad for you, a stór. I thought you alone in this world, without allies until you met us. I’m glad to be proven wrong.” He gave me a warm smile.

“Yeah,” I agreed, smiling back, “I have at least one person who believes me. Sometimes, that’s really all you need.”

Klaus turned his head and called, “Reagan, come introduce yourself to the house.”

I obeyed the summons, and at his inclination of the head, followed his example and put my hand against the wall, palm flat. Feeling only a little stupid, I looked straight at the wall and said, “Hi, House.”

“House, this is your master,” Klaus informed it. “I am your caretaker.”

Ciarán, without being prompted, came and put his hand against the house as well. “I am a guest who will be with you for some time.”

“You will have another resident and master here by tomorrow,” Klaus informed it factually. “She will introduce herself on her arrival. We must prepare the way for her, which means changes to your floorplan.”

The house, I swear to you on a truckload of ice cream, made a rumbling noise of inquiry. And it sounded worried.

“Nothing major,” Klaus assured it, because of course he was fluent in house-ese. “But your other resident cannot comfortably climb the stairs. We’ll create a portal for her on the ground floor to the second, and we’ll need to adjust the bathrooms to create one for her use. I’ll show you what needs to be done. For now, understand your master is a young Imagineer. Her defense is your priority. Do not allow anyone inside unless one of us invites them.”

So everyone got treated like a vampire? Really? Now that was interesting. I wondered if the legends regarding vampires being unable to openly cross entryways originally came from this. Quite possibly.

Klaus at last looked satisfied. Turning to me, he explained, “The house can now understand you. If there is a danger outside, it will do what it can to protect you, but we should still have Zoya come and give it proper wards. I think we’d all sleep better when that’s done. If you lose something, or can’t remember where you put it, simply ask the house. If you need help, the house will alert me and I’ll come to you.”

That all sounded really helpful. “Um, do we need to name it?”

“Hm?” Klaus cocked his head in query. “No. It knows itself as ‘the house.’ Anything else will confuse it. I made it alive, but it’s not fully aware the same way a sentient being would be. Think of it like a dog. It’s affectionate, loyal, and wants to be helpful, but it only has so much intelligence to work with.”

I nodded, as that did actually clarify things for me. “Okay. Well, House, nice to meet you.”

The wall poked out against my palm and gave me a high five. I laughed in delight, because seriously, a sentient house was too cool. The house and I, I had the feeling, would get along just fine.

The front door popped open invitingly, beckoning us in. I blinked at it, a little startled. “House can open doors?”

“And windows, and make changes to the paint color of its walls, and rearrange furniture, and anything else it decides to do,” Klaus explained over his shoulder, already heading inside. “You just have to ask. Now, let’s decide which door would be best for your grandmother.”

I sat curled up in my favorite armchair in the library that evening after a very scrumptious dinner. I normally hated brussels sprouts with a passion, but the way Klaus made them? Mouthwateringly yummy. The man could cook.

With a happy tummy, I dug into the books Zoya had sent to me, both of them beginners’ books for Imagineers. No surprise there. The first book looked old, the stiff cover black and fraying along the edges, the pages yellow with age. I looked at the copyright page and found it to be a 1923 printing from a publisher I’d never heard of. Not a surprise, that. Ciarán had casually mentioned the magical world had its own media outlets—internet sites, publishers, TV shows, the works. It all sounded intensely interesting and possibly quite fun. I couldn’t wait to plug into it.

But for now, books.

The first book proved to be the science and techniques of visualizing. It could have been dry as dust, but the author had a good voice, so it was actually quite interesting. He spoke about how visualizing something wasn’t just a mental exercise—it tapped into the neural pathways and brought into play the nervous system and even muscle memory, to a degree. Visualizing a specific task repeatedly conditioned the neural pathways to remember the action, and it carved a groove in the nervous system.

An important thing to remember was to never focus on just the visual. Using all of the senses made the creation far more effective, and I was to never visualize something in a disassociated manner. I was to always use my own perspective when visualizing. And, of course, practice made perfect, so I needed to practice often.

It all sounded really good on paper, but exactly how did this help me? Aside from the obvious. I knew doing all this would help me create things, to imagineer them, but…what if I needed to create something that didn’t exist? Or I was taking something way out of context and putting it to a different use somehow? Could I do that?

All questions for Zoya, likely. She’d wanted me to start here, and I understood why, as this was the foundation. If I couldn’t visualize anything effectively, I’d be useless.

Needing a break from that one, I picked up the second book. I’d initially assumed it to be another visualization book just from the cover. The person sitting cross-legged on the ground with a glowing ball hovering over their hands made it look that way, at least. But when I flipped the cover over and got a good look inside, I quickly realized I was wrong. This book was entirely about shields—personal shields, barriers, wards, seals, etcetera. I read through the introduction with my eyebrows climbing straight into my hairline.

Wooooow. Really?!

“How goes it?” Klaus inquired, coming to sit in the armchair next to me. He looked curiously at the book resting on my lap, then the other one now on the side table. “The books are helping?”

“Books are fascinating,” I answered honestly, marking my place with a finger and letting the book rest mostly closed for a moment. “That one’s all about visualizing, which make sense. That’s an Imagineer’s main strength. And the difference between us and other magicians, I guess. I’ll have to work through the exercises in that one very carefully. But this one’s equally interesting. Klaus, did you know the Imagineers were once considered the knights of the magical world?”

“Yes, throughout most of magical history,” he agreed in a nostalgic way, leaning back and crossing his legs comfortably. They dangled badly off the edge. The chair was not meant for someone of his height, but he didn’t seem to care. Or maybe he was just used to furniture not fitting him. “It used to be the magical world was more cutthroat, more ruthless. Much like human civilizations, actually. Between the different human religions hunting down the witches and warlocks, and the trouble we had in our own communities, it was a dangerous time to be alive. Imagineers were the ones to take a stand. They stepped forward, created boundaries and wards for people to shelter in. They were our defense—sometimes our sole defense—for generations. It’s why the Imagineers are so highly respected, even today. We don’t need them to do quite the same task anymore, it’s not necessary, but they’re experts on barriers and we still rely most heavily on them for that.”

He spoke almost like he’d lived through it, and perhaps he had. I had no idea how old he was. “What makes it different? I mean, why are Imagineers the ones to do it and not other magicians?”

“I’m not quite sure either,” he answered, hand splaying out in an open shrug, “but as it was explained to me, all other magicians have restrictions that you do not. They need something to build with—materials, energy sources, and whatnot. They can’t create something from nothing, and they need time to build. They’re also constrained by the laws of physics, by reality itself. An Imagineer has no such restrictions. If you want to make a barrier out of diamond, you can. If you want to create a ward around the Empire State Building, you can. You can do it in seconds and it will last a century.”

A zing of excitement trilled up my spine. That was so cool. “So we were the defense because we could protect what none of the other magicians could protect?”

“In essence, yes. And you were quicker to get a shield in place. In a battle situation, for instance, time is of the essence. The faster you react, the more lives you save.” He met my eyes levelly. “An Imagineer saved my family nearly three centuries ago. We were in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and caught near a battlefield. It was in the middle of the Third Silesian War—or the Seven Years’ War, as many called it. A terrible, bloody time. He’d been traveling through the area, putting up wards wherever he could, and when he stumbled across us, he shoved everyone into the nearest building and put up a ward. We lasted through the day because of him, and he escorted us safely to a town where we lived out the rest of the war. Fredrick was his name. You remind me a little of him.”

His sudden willingness to help me now made a lot more sense. He probably felt like he was paying back karma and helping his clan at the same time. Although I couldn’t let that last line go. “How?”

“Your smile.” Klaus grinned, the expression bittersweet. “You both have such a ready smile. You have a happy heart, Reagan. It’s why we liked you so instantly, why we were so heartily glad when you emerged as an Imagineer. Not all Imagineers are like you. Some are notoriously difficult, but you’ll be a pleasure to work with. Of that, I have no doubt.”

“You’re making me blush, Klaus,” I mock-complained at him.

Chuckling low, he waved this off.

“I’m glad you told me all of this.” So very, very glad. “I’d wondered why you’d immediately jump in like this without even meeting me first. It felt odd to me. But that helps explain it. Still, Klaus, don’t you have family? You haven’t left anyone to be with me, have you?”

“No,” he assured me patiently. “Most of my family is still in Germany, in fact, serving the descendants of Fredrick. Most of them are Imagineers too. Not that it’s true to a bloodline, you understand, but half of his descendants somehow inherited the talent for it. I came out here as a favor to Porter, and stayed at Mitsuki-sama’s invitation. I find I quite like it here and have no intention of moving back anytime soon. You haven’t disrupted my life, Reagan; perish the thought.”

Glad to hear it. “And Ciarán?”

“Also a bachelor, like myself. He was making noises of perhaps going to see kin in Ireland before you came. I think he was restless. He’s the industrious type, and he prefers to have something to do. You fit the bill for him nicely.” Tapping a thoughtful finger to his lips, Klaus’s dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I suspect one of the reasons why Mitsuki-sama asked him to be your protector was because he needed an occupation. But don’t fear, he’s quite a strong fighter. I certainly wouldn’t choose to cross him.”

“I wouldn’t choose to cross either of you,” I told him with a dramatic shudder that got him grinning at me. “I know your reputations, at least in myths. Nuh-uh, no sir, I will not piss you guys off.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, Reagan, you’re a treasure. I do not believe we’ve ever had a young Imagineer who knew as much about mythology as you do. For that reason alone, I quite look forward to meeting your grandmother tomorrow.”

“She’ll pepper you with a million questions,” I warned him, dead serious. “I do not exaggerate.”

“I have no doubt,” he responded comfortably, apparently not bothered. “It will make for scintillating conversation. You’ll skip school Monday?”

“If I need to. I have to help bring her in and introduce her to everyone. It depends on how smoothly this all goes.”

“Ah, I see. Then we’ll fetch her in the morning?” At my nod, he gave a satisfied grunt. “I have a few questions for you.”

“Shoot,” I encouraged.

“How are the bills on the house paid?”

“Automatic withdrawal, for the most part,” I answered. “There’s one I have to pay in person—the water bill—but I just usually call in a credit card number in their automated system.”

“If something does go wrong, say we have an issue with your vehicle or some such, how do you handle it?”

“Either I call an expert or Nana calls one for me.” Fortunately, not many incidents had happened since I started living alone. “I’ve got an Amex card for anything huge and house-related that the normal account can’t cover.”

These answers, for some reason, didn’t reassure him. They seemed perturbing, and his face scrunched up into a frown. “If something serious happens, your parents will not return from their business trips?”

“They never have before.” I gave him a sorry excuse for a smile and a shrug. “If something serious goes down, Nana’s the adult who helps me sort it out.”

He did not like this answer whatsoever. No one did, when I told them the story. If he was reacting like this now, just wait until he got the full version.

Klaus visibly swallowed the rest of his questions and said instead, “Very well. I’ll let you get back to studying. Do you need a snack?”

“Hot chocolate?” I asked hopefully. All this studying was draining my brain. I needed sugar.

“Certainly.” He popped up with single heave of his shoulders, talking to the house as he moved. “House, where did you put the cocoa mix? What do you mean we’re out of marshmallows? How can you possibly be out when I bought a bag this very afternoon?”

Shaking my head—I was so not getting into the middle of that argument—I went back to my studying.

Somehow, magically, the house grew more rooms.

I was not imagining things. I knew for a fact there were only three bathrooms upstairs, and yet, somehow, Nana had a bathroom connected to her bedroom. A bathroom not at all resembling the other bathrooms in the house. It included a sauna, no less. Nana came in, greeted everyone with a cheery hello, patted the wall of her bedroom and told the house it was quite lovely, she was glad to live here, and could they possibly discuss changing the color of her bedroom walls as white didn’t suit either of them?

They spent the rest of the morning cycling through various shades of purple. I kid you not. Nana and the house got along like peanut butter on a cracker.

After lunch, we had a knock at the door and I automatically went to answer it. Klaus hissed at me and I stopped dead, confused. As the kobold passed me, he warned, “Until I’ve had a chance to properly teach you what the dangers are, you’re not to invite anyone in.”

“Ah.” True, I still had an interesting gap between book-learning and reality. How much of what I’d learned in mythology was accurate? Some of it, certainly, but not everything. Legends only had a grain of truth, after all. “Lesson after this?”

He gave me a nod of agreement then swung the front door open. “Ivan, Matteo, welcome. Ivan, please come in. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I’m here to check up on our newest member and perhaps assign Matteo to her,” Ivan answered as he stepped inside. Spying me, he gave me a smile. “You’re Reagan, yes?”

I could hear the accent, charming and light, and it tantalized my ears. Smiling back at him, I answered, “That’s me.”

“I am Ivan, Zoya’s husband, but also mage-healer to the clan.” He reached out with both hands, patting my head with a callused hand, then my shoulders, both hands moving down and around with wisps of magic trailing from gnarled fingers as they traced my general silhouette without physically touching.

He was handsome, the way old men were, with grey hair going white and a genteel manner. Zoya had mentioned to me her husband was the mage-healer of the clan, and I’d hoped he’d swing by and take a look at Nana. I just hadn’t expected it this soon. He looked of an age with Zoya, hair thinning on top, blue eyes sharp as they appraised me. Dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, he didn’t look at all threatening, but this was the husband of an Imagineer. I’d be stupid to assume he was harmless. He just wasn’t inclined to harm me. There was a difference.

“Ah, good. You’re strong, healthy girl, da?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Nice to meet you, Ivan.”

“Nice to meet you.”

The man who must be Matteo stared at the doorway pointedly and Klaus belatedly said, “Matteo, son of Lorenzo, I extend my hospitality. Please enter.”

Now wait. He’d invited Ivan in, I’d caught that, but why did he need to say the invitation differently…on second glance, Matteo did not look completely human. He was a bit too pretty, moved a bit too smoothly, like poetry in motion. His dark hair was wavy and perfect, suiting his sun-kissed skin and liquid gold eyes. He looked like he’d stepped off a silver screen, in fact, even in the working blue nurse scrubs.

Klaus closed the door behind him, then stepped around to do the introductions. “Reagan, this is Matteo. He’s Ivan’s dedicated nurse, one of the many who keep our clan healthy and whole. Also a vampire, as you can see.”

“That’s really hard to miss,” I admitted, extending a hand toward him, which he shook with gentle strength. “You’re quite handsome, Matteo.”

“Oh, I like you already,” he purred back at me, winking and setting my cheeks on fire. “Welcome to the clan, Reagan. We’re all very delighted to have you and your grandmother.”

“Thanks.”

He pulled free and asked, “Where is our patient?”

“Coming!” Nana called, rolling her way in from the library. She stopped in the sitting room door, where we’d all more or less congregated, and gave them a smile. “Hello.”

Introductions went around the group again, then Ivan encouraged her to come further into the room so he could examine her. I sat nearby in the chair, watching anxiously. I really hoped something could be done to help her.

Unlike an Imagineer’s magic, Ivan clearly used a different sort. Wand in hand, he created several different magical circles, drawing them in the air like he had a glitter pen hidden up his sleeve. They glowed and pulsed right above Nana’s skin, scrawling out information that clearly made sense to Ivan, although it was all Greek to me. Nana watched it all with open fascination, barely uttering a peep.

Ivan sat back after a few minutes with a thoughtful frown on his face. “May I speak freely in front of Reagan?”

“Of course,” Nana assured him. “We don’t have many secrets from each other, and she’s primarily in charge of my health, these days.”

“To be blunt, then. You’re old.”

Nana threw her head back and laughed. “Tell me something I don’t know!”

“Your body is trying to fail on you and it’s doing so in a very inconvenient way. Your blood pressure’s too high, cholesterol is trying to clog your arteries, arthritis is creeping in on your joints. Your inner ear is out of balance—it’s benign paroxysmal positional vertigo to be precise. Certain head movements make you dizzy, is that right?”

Nana grimaced in agreement. “Unfortunately.”

“And despite the hip and knee replacement, the scar tissue there has tightened things to the point it’s difficult to move. Now. Here’s the good news. That’s all fixable, at least to some degree. We’ll be fighting a slow war with your body to keep it operational as you age, but we can at least reboot you a bit and give you another twenty years of decent health. Give me six months of treatments and, at the very least, we can get you out of that chair.”

I clapped in excitement, my heart filled to bursting. That was the best news I’d heard all year. Nana and I shared a bright smile, beyond ecstatic.

“I’ll be dropping in regularly for treatments, but your daily doses of potions will be administered by your nurse, Matteo.”

Nana turned her head toward the vampire with a guileless look. “You’re my sexy nurse?”

Matteo didn’t even blink, grin wicked. “Yes, ma’am.”

“This day just gets better and better,” Nana observed rhetorically. “Gentlemen, you’ve made an old lady very happy. Well, what do we do first?”

“I don’t have everything you need on me,” Ivan said apologetically, “so I’ll need to return to my clinic and come back, or send Matteo back, I should say. But I’ll give a list of instructions to him, with a copy for you, and drop in every Friday. That alright?”

“Perfectly,” Nana assured him. “But in six months, I’ll be able to do things again?”

“At the very least, you’ll be able to walk and move without worry of tripping or doing dying swan dives onto the floor.” Ivan put his wand away in a special holster he wore like a gunslinger along his thigh. Rising, he warned, “It will take several weeks of treatments before you’ll be able to leave the chair, so don’t rush things.”

Nana gave him an analyst’s salute. “Promise.”

“Horosho, good. Then I’ll be off, and see you later.” With a pat to her hand, he took himself to the door, only stopping to confer in a low voice with Klaus before leaving completely. Matteo gave us both a jaunty smile before he followed.

I reached over to give Nana an exuberant hug, because truly, that was the best news ever. She returned it with equal strength, then pulled back, practically glowing. “I feel like we’ve hit a lucky break.”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what this feels like.”

With everyone situated, I felt it safe to go to school. I woke up the next morning with a yawn, slapping at my new alarm clock until it shut up, then rolled out of bed. I was halfway to the en-suite bathroom when the shower kicked on. I stumbled to a stop, blinking my eyes in an effort to get them to focus. Why would the shower come on when I wasn’t even in the bathroom…oh, right. House. It liked to be helpful and it had my routine down after Klaus’s lecture, apparently. Who knew you could train a house like you would a dog?

“Thanks, House. Water nice and scorching?”

Two knocks sounded on the wall near the bathroom door. I jumped a little. Even though I knew House was answering me, it still sounded a little too poltergeistish for my peace of mind. I’d get used to it eventually. Hopefully before it gave me a heart attack.

I hopped in, scrubbed up, still waking up even under the hot spray. Rise and Shine was not my thing.

Drying off, I went through my morning routine and noticed I was down to barely nothing on the toilet paper roll. Darnit. If I didn’t replace it right now, I’d forget and be in trouble later. Sighing, I wrapped a towel around myself. I’d just pop downstairs to the laundry room and grab two rolls. Before I could get fully through my bedroom, House made my bedroom door disappear, pure blank wall in its place.

“Hey!”

House gave me a single knock on the wall: No.

“What do you mean, no? I’m just going to—” Some part of my brain fully woke up and pointed out that waltzing around in a towel in a predominantly male household might be a bad idea. I was so accustomed to being alone here, where I could wander around in a towel or half-naked, that habit nearly got me good. “Crap. House, I owe you.”

House lit up the wall in a bright, rainbow hue of colors, which I took to mean laughter.

“Yeah, yeah. Ask Klaus to put some toilet paper up here for me later, okay? I’m sure to forget.” Mostly because I was foggy in the mornings.

I got a double knock of agreement and went back to the bathroom, where I finished getting ready.

As I came downstairs, I heard Nana, Klaus, and someone else in conversation around the kitchen table. It sounded like Matteo—it had that smooth, rich tone to it. I swear Nana’s vampire nurse was Italian. He had the looks, accent, and name to be from that culture. As I cleared the staircase, I got a good look through the open casing and sure enough, Matteo sat at the table with a coffee cup in front of him and a line of what looked to be miniature vodka bottles all lined up in front of Nana.

Klaus looked up with a smile, a red apron tied around his waist that read, German Chef: Guten Appetit! “Waffles?”

“Please and thank you!” I adored that I didn’t have to cook anymore. Swinging myself into the seat opposite Nana, I said, “Morning.”

“Good morning, kiddo. Matteo’s swung by with my first dose of medication. Even if it does look like he’s trying to get me drunk.” Nana’s eyes crinkled up in a laugh.

“Blame Ivan for that, not me,” Matteo protested. “He likes to recycle bottles. Says there’s no point in wasting them, especially when they’re the right size. Although it does have a drawback. Last time he ran short of bottles, he and Zoya bought a crate and got smashing drunk. I came in on them running laps around the house, her with their marriage certificate and a lighter in hand, him casting random spells trying to stop her. She kept yelling, ‘You can’t return me without the receipt!’”

I choked on a laugh. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope. I had to stop them. And then babysit them until they sobered up. I mean, really, if they wanted to empty the case, there’re better ways to do it. We’re surrounded by creatures who can get dead drunk with no real hangover the next day. Mitsuki-sama alone can empty a case in an evening.” Matteo paused, eyes getting a faraway look. “Although the last time he did get drunk, he crawled into a Nix’s dog kennel in his fox form to sleep it off, so maybe not the right person to call.”

Hearing this fascinated me. The adults I’d met this week all seemed so grownup and responsible, so to hear even they messed up or did funny things? It was reassuring to me. I felt like they were more relatable. “What about vampires?”

“Oh sure. We metabolize alcohol with the best of them. It’s the pixies and fairies you can’t trust. They get drunk just off the fumes.” Matteo pushed his sleeves up his arms, happy when a stack of waffles was placed in front of him. “Thank you, Klaus.”

I stared at the waffles in confusion. “Vampires can eat real food?”

“Sure. Oh, you’re referring to those half-baked legends.” Matteo waved this away, even as he reached for the maple syrup on the table. “We do need to drink blood, but it’s more like a supplement for us. We get sick and weak if we don’t have a regular intake, but we need food just like any other living organism.”

“But you have food restrictions, right? Like garlic?”

“Oh, don’t get me started on garlic.” Matteo’s bottom lip stuck out in a visible pout. “You know where I’m from? Milan. You know what’s everywhere in Italy? Garlic. It’s in freaking everything. EVERYTHING.”

“So vampires and garlic are a no-go?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Oh no, everyone else is fine. I’m just allergic to it.” Matteo was clearly on a roll now. As he passed me the syrup, his other hand gestured wildly in illustration. “Actually, garlic is an anticoagulant. Eating garlic to ward off vampires is propaganda by my kind to make humans bleed more efficiently. Although, really, if you think about it, all the ‘rules’ for my people are anti-Italian. Can’t go out in the sunlight? In Italy? Can’t go near crucifixes? In ITALY? I mean, really!”

I had to bite my lip, hard, to not laugh. He sounded so completely and utterly done.

“What about the mirrors?” Nana inquired curiously.

“Ah, there is actually a scientific explanation for that, as much as there’s a scientific reason for anything in our world. See, it used to be that mirrors had a layer of silver on the backing. Silver is deadly to us and doesn’t react well with my kind—ergo, no reflection. But modern mirrors are now backed with aluminum, so we can see our reflections just fine.”

This was seriously fascinating. I had to remind myself to eat, because I really had to leave for school in the next twenty minutes. “I’m just curious, but what do you think about the vampire movies?”

“Girl.” Matteo rolled his eyes, hands splayed like he was praying for deliverance. “Do not get me started. You know my main issue with those things? All of them have blood dripping down their chins while they’re feeding. I mean, that’s our food. I just want to yell at the screen: CLOSE YOUR MOUTH. You think that’s sexy? Slobbering all over the place like that? Use a napkin! And for heaven’s sake, don’t look so smug while doing it. ‘Ooo, I’m a creature of the night, look how sexy I am dripping blood everywhere.’ Yeah, all I’m seeing is a lack of basic hygiene and it’s not impressive. My niece is three years old and drools less than they do! And they’re supposedly centuries old? Freaking act like it.”

“As fascinating as this lesson is,” Klaus interrupted sternly. “Eat. You need to leave in fifteen minutes, Reagan.”

Oh crap, I really did. I stuffed my face with the waffle, which was sadness, as it was excellent and deserved more of my attention. Then I was up again, racing for the door, Ciarán trotting at my heels in cat form. I held the door open for him so he could hop into the passenger seat, called back a goodbye, then we sped off for school.

Let me just say, walking into school felt very strange. I’d changed so much in the past three days, my entire world turned upside down (in good ways, but still), and yet school looked exactly the same. The students were no different, the teachers going about as usual. It felt surreal to me, like I’d wandered into the Twilight Zone. Ciarán, of course, couldn’t come inside the school with me, so he guarded the exterior.

I went through the motions of going to my locker, pulling out the right textbooks, and heading to class on autopilot.

Then I sat in my classes without absorbing any of it. I knew intellectually everything I learned would become part of my repertoire as an Imagineer, but it was hard to focus on things like Sadistics when I had two books to study instead. I had to bribe myself to pay attention, which was ridiculous.

I really had to focus, though. I mean, I only had a month of this school year left. Finals were approaching like a loaded freight train, and if I didn’t do well on those, my parents got emailed, and that was never a fun conversation. Not that it had happened more than once (math, shudder) but still. Best to be avoided in the future.

With Tabitha at her weekly club meeting, I had no human friends to eat lunch with and ended up in the sunny patch near the AG building, with Ciarán for company. He remained in cat form, a sleek black creature with brilliant blue eyes and the attitude to match. Stretched out on his side, he watched me eat the packed lunch Klaus had sent with me. Part of my lunch box was for him, a water dish and a small container of tuna, which he deigned to eat one paw-full at a time.

“Cats don’t eat that way, you know that, right?”

Still lounging on his side, tail flicking, Ciarán lifted another paw of tuna to his mouth like an Egyptian king and daintily ate it. “I’m not a cat, I’m a pooka.”

Yeah, I could give that argument up right now. “Right. It isn’t boring, guarding me all day?”

“Quite a few people have stopped to chat, inquired how you’re doing,” he answered, still licking his paw. “So no, not at all. We’re all quite excited to have a new Imagineer in the clan, you know.”

“Klaus said that to me the other night. But you know, I’m not clear on what Imagineers do? I know they used to be the protectors, the barrier specialists, but that’s not what we do now, right?”

“No. Well, sometimes. If a disaster hits the area and throws a building’s wards off, for instance, an Imagineer is often called in to help shield the place. But in this day and age, you’re more like troubleshooters.” Ciarán paused eating long enough to explain. “Magic can’t fix everything. For those who have problems outside of what a spell or potion can cure, they go to see an Imagineer. The latest case involved a werewolf child born without legs. Not something magic or a potion can really cure, but an Imagineer can build them legs to walk with.”

My chicken salad sandwich lay in my lap, forgotten. “How did Mactep fix the child?”

“One step at a time, I believe. She explained you must understand what you are building in order for it to work? She studied werewolf anatomy, then created him legs from the bone up to the skin. I believe it tasked her mentally—she refused to do anything the rest of the day—but he has two legs just like he’d been born with them.” Ciarán gave a pleased purr. “Our Zoya is quite gifted. We were very glad when she immigrated here with Ivan.”

“I’ll say.” I could not imagine it. Imagineers could create legs? Biological legs? Mind. Blown. If someone asked me right this second to create some legs for a kid, I’d have gone the prosthetic route and probably ended up Minecrafting it together. Clearly, I had a lot to learn from Zoya.

I ate a few more bites, my mind ruminating over this new knowledge and my lesson with Klaus yesterday. He’d given me a laundry list of races not to be trusted and ones to always trust, and it had been eye-opening to say the least. Although, really, all it did was exchange one set of questions for another. “Ciarán, question.”

“Shoot.” His tail twitched idly.

“Klaus said not all vampires are bad, but really, what’s the ratio?”

“If they’re in a clan, they can be trusted. Really, vampires deal better living in a structured society. They have legal means of attaining blood and they’re in a protected place. It’s the ones outside a clan’s territories—the rogues. They’re the problem children. Absolutely do not trust one within sight of you. They move incredibly quick.”

“How can you tell? If a vampire is a rogue or not.”

“Well, for one, they’re generally not very clean. And they don’t stop to say hello, they’ll just charge you.”

“Is that why the house has a different invitation for vampires?”

“Frankly, yes. We’ve got two rogues in our area, and they’re not good at respecting clan boundaries. They’d take advantage of loopholes, so the restrictions on vampires are stricter.”

That explained that. “Obviously werewolves are friends, if Mactep is helping them. I haven’t seen any of them, though?”

“They normally wander about in human form. More convenient that way. You’ve heard the legends about them turning on a full moon?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s true, but it’s not essential they do so. Mostly it’s the youngest who can’t control their instincts and need to turn. Really, they can shift between shapes whenever they wish, and it’s as easy as donning a fur coat.” Licking the last bit of tuna from his claws, he added blithely, “I’ll introduce a few to you. We’ve got several near your age, and you’ll see what I mean. They’re a bit intense, but good people.”

I had more questions on that, but I saw coming our direction a very upset Tabitha. She stomped my direction with a weird mix of emotions on her face that came off as being mostly belligerent. I watched her and felt my throat clam up tight. I knew that expression. She was angry with me again. I couldn’t figure out what I’d done this time, though. Ever since getting the glasses, I’d been able to control my reactions better, since I could at least see what was around me. What was it now?

Stopping right in front of me, she demanded, “So now you’re talking to cats?”

Alarm jittered around in my chest and I put my lunch down carefully before I accidentally dropped it. I tried to analyze her but she just looked mad. “Uh, Tabby, people talk to animals all the time? This isn’t a fantasy thing.”

She glared at me, arms crossed over her chest defensively. “You told me no more weird stuff. You promised. I swear, you haven’t changed at all!”

Actually, I had. The realization rocketed through my brain and it caught me unawares, turning me mute for a second. I’d changed a great deal over the weekend, more than she realized. I’d gone from a child no one really wanted, to a magician in a magical clan. Klaus and Ciarán weren’t exactly friends, but they were on my side. I had a master who would look out for me. I wasn’t alone and dependent on Tabby’s forbearance anymore to have companionship.

And that was a very, very odd realization to have. I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it.

Tabitha got impatient with my blank stare and snapped out, “Anything that makes people look at you funny is not okay. Is that so hard for you to understand? I don’t care if you’re staring at imaginary castles or talking to cats. I’m done with the weirdness. Apologize.”

I stared up at her, and I could just feel my stubbornness kick in. I’d bent a lot to accommodate Tabitha recently and I didn’t appreciate being yelled at like this. For something that wasn’t even a big deal, no less. You know what? I was done.

“For what? Being me?”

A sound much like a teapot going off crawled up her throat. In a muted scream, she turned around and stomped back off.

“What,” my companion inquired acidly, “crawled up her butt?”

“Tabitha’s apparently had this idea I would grow out of my love of fantasy and be normal,” I explained tiredly. I was starting to think dragons had it right. Hang out in a cave with all your favorite stuff, and if anybody tried to bug you, blow fire at them and go back to sleep. “I’ve tried to pretend to be ‘normal,’ for her sake, but she’s being really…sensitive about stuff. Anything out of the ordinary that I do, she leaps down my throat. Like now. I really don’t get the logic. Do you become friends with someone, wanting them to change? Don’t you become friends because you like who they are?”

“That’s the optimum ideal for friendships,” Ciarán agreed, still glaring after Tabitha. “It doesn’t appear that young woman realizes it yet. Reagan, I have an idea.”

Reading the dislike on his face well enough, I drawled, “No murder.”

“I no longer have an idea.”

Snorting a laugh, I picked up my quite excellent sandwich again. “It’s alright, really. I mean, it’s not, I’d prefer to not end a friendship like this, but how could I possibly explain to someone like her that I not only believe in magic, but was now a magician myself? That I’d stepped through the open door of magic? She’d never believe me, and I’d always either be arguing with her about it, or lying to her. There’s no good answer to be had here.”

Ciarán reached over to pat me on the knee with his paw. “You’re wise to realize it, Reagan. Still, for your sake, I hope she’ll peacefully let this friendship go. But she doesn’t seem the type.”

I grimaced. “Yeah, not Tabby’s style to let an argument go. Still, what can she possibly do?”

“To quote your Nix playwright, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’ I do not think it limited to only romantic relationships.”

Grimacing again, I had to secede the point. “Yeah. Man, I wish I had chocolate.”

Flicking his tail, he regarded me with amusement. “What’s stopping you?”

“What? Oh. Wait, can I just conjure up chocolate?”

“Why not?”

True, Zoya hadn’t told me I couldn’t try stuff. I’d just assumed I could only do it under supervision. And technically, Ciarán was here to supervise, right? And he didn’t see a problem with it.

I mentally reviewed the instructions I’d studied about visualizing something. Not only the visual appearance, but the taste, texture, weight, scent. I pictured a flat chocolate bar with the wrapping in my mind, the flavor of it already caressing my taste buds. I wanted allll the chocolate. It felt like sparks of static electricity along my skin as my magic came to bear, in a pleasant way, like it lit me up from within. It was oddly comforting and warm—kinda a magical hug, in a sense. It was with a smile on my face that I released the chocolate bar into my waiting hands. “Chocolate.”

The weight of it impacted my hands like a lodestone and I nearly dropped it, one corner hitting the grass. Gaping, my eyes roved from one end to the other, taking in the three-foot candy bar. It had to be fifteen pounds, at least.

Oh man. Oh dude. I was caught between exhilaration and consternation. I’d done it, I’d actually conjured something out of thin air with only willpower and magic, and that was incredibly thrilling. Words could not express. But it hadn’t gone exactly to plan either.

The only word my mouth could conjure was, “Oops.”

Ciarán rolled onto his back, laughing uproariously.

I glared at him, a little weakly, mostly because I was caught on the problem of what in the wide green world I was supposed to do with it now. No way I could eat all of this in what remained of my lunch break. “Um. Help?”

“I can’t eat all that,” he denied between gasps of laughter. “Your face…it was priceless.”

Yeah, I could just write all help off from that quarter. Looking about me, I spied a glitter of wings passing by and called out hopefully, “Hi! You want some chocolate?”

In a split second, I had three fairies, all of them in rainbow colors and wings flapping as quick as a hummingbird’s. The taller of the three stopped just in front of my hands, eyeing the bar with lust in her eyes. “You’ll share?”

“You’ll be doing me a favor,” I assured her. “I can’t take this in with me. I’ll break off a corner and you can have the rest, okay?”

“You’re generous, Imagineer,” the fairy responded brightly. “My cousin’s brother’s friend’s girlfriend is a barista at FairyDust. Tell her the next one’s on me.”

“I’ll do that.” Not that I had any idea what her name was, but Ciarán would know. I broke off a chunk into my hand and handed the rest over to her. To my surprise, she lifted it easily, despite the bar being taller than she was. With a wink at me, she darted off again, her two friends trailing after her with happy sounds of glee.

“Fairies are sugarholics,” Ciarán said idly, watching them go. “They’ll consider you a friend now.”

“They just saved me from eating a fifteen-pound candy bar by myself. Of course they’re friends.” And mental note to me: do not conjure anything without paying attention to SIZE.

No one who’s ever been called to the counselor’s office expects good news. I was a good student, I hadn’t broken any rules, yet I still ran through every scenario of possible wrongdoings while walking the cream-colored halls. I kept drawing a blank. I mean, aside from me cavorting with creatures of mythical and questionable morality, I hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary recently. And only one person in this school knew I’d done that.

Still, that uneasy feeling squirmed in my stomach as I went through the door into the counseling center. The receptionist at the counter gave me an automatic smile. “Who are you here to see?”

“Uh, Ms. Bergman called me. I’m Reagan.” My hand tightened on the strap of my backpack. For some reason, I felt like I was on the cusp of something I wouldn’t like.

That part in the movies, when the heroine/hero foolishly trusts someone and gets bitten for it—I felt like I balanced on the edge of that moment. Complete with someone yelling at the screen, Really? You didn’t see that coming?

Imagineers didn’t have seer powers, did they?

“Go on through,” the receptionist said, indicating the middle door of the three offices behind her.

Yeah, um, about that. What if I didn’t want to? Sighing, I nodded and dredged up my courage before shuffling around the counter and toward the door. It wasn’t like I had much choice in this. If I didn’t go, they’d try to call my parents next, and that never worked out well.

The door stood open, revealing a very cramped office with an L-shaped desk crammed into the corner, a bookshelf literally overflowing with books and papers, and one chair angled to face the counsellor. Ms. Bergman was not very old for a counsellor, maybe thirties, and she wore a trendy outfit of long, flowy tunic and tights. The smile she gave me looked professional and pristine—probably because of her perfect, white teeth—but I saw the worry in those dark brown eyes.

I just couldn’t figure out what I’d done to get called in or to get that look from her.

“Reagan?” she asked, confirming.

“Yeah, that’s me. Nice to meet you.” I hoped. I sat down in the chair, slinging my backpack off to the floor as I moved. It landed with a heavy thump, as usual. I normally carried around fifty pounds of books these days, especially with all the extra studying. Pasting a bright smile on my face, I asked with forced cheer, “So! What’s this about?”

Her perfectly plucked brows drew together in a frown. “You don’t know?”

“Uh, not a mind reader, last I checked, so nope. No clue.” I gripped my hands together to keep them still. It wasn’t a good thing to display any nerves.

Ms. Bergman gentled her voice, as if trying to deliver the news without slapping me with it. “Reagan. I had a concerned friend of yours come to see me. She says you’re experiencing a little difficulty right now. That sometimes fantasy seems real to you.”

A rush of cold washed down from head to toe, shocking the breath right out of me. Tabitha. Tabby had told her everything I’d confided.

Apparently my face had a lot to say about how betrayed I felt, as Ms. Bergman continued soothingly, “I don’t want you to be upset with her.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not getting that wish,” I said flatly. Hot fury chased the cold away. I practically shook under the force of it coursing through me. As much as I wanted to leap up, go find Tabitha, and drag her around by the hair, I couldn’t. I had to settle this now, to make the counselor think all was hunky dory, or she’d try to reach my parents next.

I took in a breath, marshalled my thoughts, and tried to stick to the truth as much as possible. It would be more believable that way, the lies easier to swallow.

“Ms. Bergman. I confided a very realistic sequence of dreams to my friend, and yeah, it had a lot of fantasy in it, but that shouldn’t shock anyone. I read and watch a lot of fantasy. I told her about the dreams because they felt very real to me, like I’d actually lived them. And Tabitha, as per freaking usual, blew it out of proportion. She went to you, which is not cool. She should have tried talking to me first.”

“I understand you’re upset, and I can see why,” the counselor responded with that oh-so-soothing voice of hers. I wasn’t sure why she used it. It wasn’t effective—it felt grating on my ears, like fingernails against a chalkboard. “You feel betrayed by her. Tabitha felt you were experiencing hallucinations. Can you understand that she acted out of concern for you?”

Hallucinations. Not quite, Tabby. “Hallucinations from what? I’m not on any kind of medication. I don’t do drugs. There’s nothing for me to hallucinate on! And yeah, I understand exactly what she did and why she did it. I know her a lot better than you.”

“Calm down, Reagan,” Ms. Bergman advised, not unsympathetically. “Perhaps we should bring one of your parents in to talk about this?”

And there it was. “Why would you call in my parents for this?”

“Because you’re upset and you should be able to talk to them.”

I nearly snorted, barely caught my reaction before it could escape. That would not help me right now. “I don’t talk to them about this stuff. I talk to Nana about it.”

She nodded slowly, accepting this. Counselors understood that sometimes parents didn’t connect well with their kids, but as long as you gave them another adult you did speak to regularly, they were okay with it. They assumed you were alright if you had at least that one adult in your corner. “I see. Did you talk to your grandmother about these dreams?”

“Yeah. She thought they were cool. I assumed Tabby would think the same, which was why I told her, but I went into more detail. Which was apparently a mistake.” Blowing out a breath, I tried to find a way to phrase this so I could cut this short and escape. “Ms. Bergman. Am I in here because it sounded like I was tripping on something?”

With a sheepish shrug, Ms. Bergman admitted, “Basically, yes.”

“Are you convinced I’m not tripping and I just have a friend who’s a drama queen?” I asked her bluntly.

She slipped back into oh-so-sympathetic mode. “I don’t believe there’s anything wrong with you, Reagan. I don’t think Tabitha does either, but I do want you to walk out of here and talk to her about this. I don’t want this to end a friendship, as she really was looking out for you. This is just a misunderstanding, after all.”

Misunderstanding, my left eyeball. “Oh believe me, I’ll talk to her about it.”

She wouldn’t like how the conversation went, either.

I ignored Tabitha for the rest of the day in school. When I did talk to her about this, it was going to get loud. And I’d rather not shout out all my business where the rest of the student body could hear us. She figured out pretty quick I was livid with her, and kept shooting me these looks I couldn’t really interpret. I wasn’t interested in trying, either.

The school bell sounded like a hallelujah chorus when it finally went off, and I booked it out of there, hauling my backpack and speed-walking off campus and to my car. I could hear Tabitha panting as she raced to catch up with me.

“Rea, wait!” Tabitha finally caught up, puffing, sweat making the strands of blonde hair stick to her forehead. She blew a strand out of her face and said frantically, “I know you’re mad at me, but you realize you were talking crazy, right? I think you need help—”

I whirled on her and hissed, “So you turn me in to the counsellor? Really? I stopped talking to you about all of this weeks ago because I could tell you weren’t okay with it. That’s fine. I can leave you out of things that don’t jive with you. But no, you immediately go behind my back. You don’t even give me a head’s up.”

Pressing her lips together, she winced. “Look, you…you don’t know how crazy you were sounding. You suddenly think magic is real.”

As mad as I was—and I was hopping mad—I suddenly felt a wave of pity. She’d never experience anything magical in her world. She’d never even understand what she was missing. If she’d been more open to me, more willing to follow my lead, I might have been able to draw her in with me. But she’d slammed the door shut hard and fast. And now, because she’d done that, there was no room left for a friendship between us. Even when I’d tried my hardest to act ‘normal’ for her, she’d found things to nitpick at. The stress of it had been getting to me for days. Her quick betrayal, even knowing my situation, had put a nail in the coffin. I didn’t have any warm feelings left for her anymore.

“Rea,” she said softly, hopefully, “let’s go talk to someone. Okay?”

Wow, she really thought I’d boarded the crazy train. Shaking my head, I refused to look at her. “I’m going to talk to someone, alright. But it won’t be with you. We’re done, Tabitha.”

She inhaled sharply, shocked, but I didn’t have the ability to look at her again. A mixture of hurt and betrayal kept me from it. I opened my car door and threw my backpack in the back seat, wanting nothing more than to get out of here.

“I was just looking out for you! You’re ending our friendship over this?”

“It’s because you’re a sucky friend,” I yelled back at her without turning.

She screamed out something not exactly repeatable, then stormed off in the opposite direction. I didn’t care. Well, no, I did care. I was relieved she didn’t try to chase after me. This drama was bad enough; it didn’t need an encore. As it was, we’d garnered more than a few looks from the other students heading for their cars.

Of course, because I didn’t want company, I immediately got it. My bodyguard/whatever he was showed up almost instantly, jumping up onto the hood of the car, still in his cat form. “Reagan. What was that all about?”

I stopped and stared at Ciarán’s face, not sure how to tell him anything. The words wanted to catch in my throat. “She told the school counsellor I was hallucinating and crazy.”

Ciarán’s ears went flat against his head. “And then?”

Shrugging, I let my eyes drift further up the street. It was hard to look at him too, for some reason. “I lied my face off. Told her it was just realistic dreams and Tabitha misunderstood. She believed me, I think. Pretty sure. But Tabitha’s certain I’m crazy, and clearly I can’t trust her to not blab to the adults behind my back.”

“Hmmm,” he uttered noncommittally.

Something about his response raised my suspicions. I looked back at him, and the very blank expression on his face said volumes. “You knew something like this would happen.”

“We suspected something like this might happen,” Ciarán corrected gently, “because you’re still adjusting to our world. It’s part of the reason why I was asked to watch you, so I could step in and support you if you needed it.”

With his phrasing, it was almost as if he asked: did I need it now? And I didn’t know the answer. My eyes fell to the cracked pavement below my feet as I tried to think it through. “There’s not a lot of people close to me in school. I don’t think anyone else is going to notice if I do something weird.”

“But do you trust your environment?” Ciarán asked gently. “If we offered you a different school, a place you could be at ease, would you go there instead?”

Different school? What was he talking ab—oh. Of course. Duh. “You mean the magnet school for the young creatures?”

“Yes. We’d rather you go there, finish high school with your real peers. It would be easier to keep you protected, for one thing, but won’t it be better to make friends there? You won’t need to hide anything from them.”

That sounded a lot better, really. I mean, no one in their right mind actually likes public school. My mind tried to weigh pros and cons, but really, the pros ticked themselves off so fast in my head, the cons didn’t have a chance to pipe up. “Can I really do that?”

“We’ll nominally need your parents’ permission. But if we put it to them that a magnet school has extended an opening to you, would they refuse it?”

“Uh, no. They’ll be totally okay with it.” I stared at him hard, ready for the other shoe to fall. He just stared back at me. “No, seriously, that’s it? Let’s just transfer me over to another school and leave the Nixes behind?”

Ciarán reached out to put a paw on my shoulder, the warmth of it seeping through my shirt, a strangely comforting feeling. “I can’t say it will be easy, but if you can avoid future scenes like this one, won’t it be worth it?”

“You know, put like that, I can’t even argue. So, um, what first?”

“First we go talk to your grandmother about all of this.” Ciarán gently gestured for me to get in, hopping down lightly to my shoulder before using me as a springboard to land in the passenger seat. Once settled, he gave me a sympathetic purr. “I’m sorry you lost your friend, Reagan.”

The tears I’d refused to shed before came back with a vengeance, but I blinked them back, trying to hide my expression until I got it back under control. He was really such a teddy bear of a man. “Thanks, Ciarán. I’m sorry too.”

Nana and Klaus listened to the whole debacle with growing frowns on their faces. We’d gathered around the dining room table—the thing was finally getting some use—so I could relate what had happened today. Nana reached over to hold my hand at one point, her cold fingers clasping mine firmly in support.

When I finally wound down, Ciarán piped up from the left side, “I think she should transfer to the magnet school.”

Turning her head, Nana parroted, “Magnet school? Oh, the clan school?”

“Yes,” Klaus answered with an approving nod at his companion. “And that’s an excellent idea. She should be with her real peers to study anyway. It makes more sense.”

I’d heard about the school exactly twice in passing but had no details. “Where is it?”

“It’s actually further in town, closer to the docks,” Klaus said. “We don’t have a large student body there, less than a hundred children altogether, from kindergarten through high school. I believe Mitsuki-sama had every intention of speaking to you and Julie about this properly once things settled.”

“I’m perfectly okay with this idea, but shouldn’t I finish out the school year where I’m at? It’s only a month away. I can put up with it for another month.”

“It would look odd to transfer her into a magnet school at this point,” Nana agreed, although she had a judicious look on her face and her mouth was pressed firmly together, a sign she still harbored concerns. “Still, I can start the groundwork by informing my son she’s been offered a place at a magnet school, one I approve of. We can start the paperwork to transfer her over.”

Klaus gave an approving nod. “It seems we have a consensus. I’ll inform Mitsuki-sama. While we’re speaking of paperwork—Reagan, you don’t have a passport, correct?”

“The casual way you’re asking me that question conversely worries me,” I answered uneasily. “No, I don’t. Why?”

“I’ve heard a few things that worry me. We’ve recently lost contact with one of the clans in Brazil.” Klaus’s mouth worked for a moment, searching for the right words to explain. “Not all clans are in constant communication. Some of them are located in such remote, rural areas that they’re rather cut off from the rest of us. The advent of technology makes it easier for us to stay in contact, but it doesn’t solve accessibility. When the old portal system still functioned, it wasn’t an issue. But of course, now….”

Ciarán grunted in sour agreement. “We do try to keep up with everyone through emails and such. But some of them are sporadic about contact. Which clan is it, Klaus?”

“Bandeira Clan.”

Ciarán let out a low whistle. “That’s not good. They’re up in the highest section of Brazil,” he explained to me. “Up in the Brazilian Highlands, at about nine-thousand-foot elevation. I was up there exactly once as a cub, and let me tell you, it’s quite the hike to get in there on foot. Last I heard, they didn’t really have many magicians.”

“Hence why I think she needs a passport. I don’t think she’ll be called for Brazil, per se, but there’re other clans we only sporadically hear from. Odds are, she’ll be asked to go help someone at some point.”

I personally liked the idea of going out and seeing the world, so I had no problem with that. Although, the idea I would be going into a difficult to reach area, where there was likely danger and problems, well…that I wasn’t sure I liked. Still, if asked to go, I’d go. “Then let’s get the paperwork started. I’d rather have it on hand, just in case.”

Satisfied, Klaus nodded. “Dinner will be in three hours.”

I took that as my cue. “Then I’ll be in the library doing homework. Let me know when it’s done.” The adults lingered at the table, discussing the best way to reach my parents. I left them to it as I retrieved my backpack from the bench near the door and hauled it into the library. It was nice not having to think about how to deal with my parents, to be able to shift the responsibility over to someone else.

As soon as I cleared the doorway, I stopped and frowned. My favorite chair was not in front of the window, as it normally was, but instead moved to the opposite end of the room. Having a very good suspicion of who’d done it, I asked, “House? Did you move the chair?”

The house gave an uncertain rumble, practically oozing guilt.

“I like the chair next to the window for a reason. It has nice light. Move it back, please.”

The house grumbled again, and the chair stayed planted.

Klaus appeared with a light step and stopped next to me, suspicion scrawled all over his face. “What’s the problem?”

I pointed at the chair. “House wants the chair over there for some reason.”

Exasperated, Klaus smacked the nearest wall with a palm. “Will you stop that? I told you to leave the arrangement of the library alone. Reagan has things the way she wants them in here. What? Oh. It’s worried about the light fading the chair.”

Since when did a house care about the furniture…okay, whatever, roll with it. “You can move it back when I’m done, but I want to sit in the window.”

Content with this compromise, the floorboards rose like a wave, moving the chair smoothly across the room, where it settled with a slight creak of wood.

Addressing both Klaus and the house, I said, “Thanks.”

Klaus gave me a nod, but he grumbled as he turned on his heel and left, his voice chiding the house in audible tones. “Did you forget who’s master here? If Reagan wants it a certain way, you obey, you don’t argue with her. Don’t make me regret giving you life.”

Yeah, not getting in the middle of that argument either.

Sitting down, I pulled out my homework from school, although that took a serious amount of willpower to plow through. The fight with Tabitha kept popping up in my head distracting me further, and I had to swat it out again. I finally managed to focus enough to put the drama of the day out of my head. It took me roughly an hour, then I shoved it all back in my backpack and returned to the things I really wanted to study.

The visualization book was interesting, and I definitely did the mental exercises it told me to practice with due seriousness, but the other book was fascinating. It contained the early history and some of the more well-known inventions of Imagineers. Turned out they called us Imagineers for good reason. We were literally architects, engineers of magic, and my predecessors had done some wicked cool things. It gave me a very interesting insight of what I could do, once fully trained, and what a group of Imagineers could accomplish when working together.

In a year, I could start doing things like this. In three years, I’d be a master myself, free to find my own projects. By the time I turned twenty, I’d have that freedom. Man oh man, I seriously could not wait.

Nana rolled in on her wheelchair, and by that I mean the house rolled the floor for her so she didn’t have to lift a single finger to move. I eyed this process with amusement. “I take it you and the house are getting along?”

“It’s such a dear, it really is,” Nana answered with a fond smile at the ceiling. “I slipped earlier in the bathroom, you know, and it reached out with the baseboard trim and caught me.”

A mental image flashed through my mind of Nana falling, and it wasn’t hard to imagine. It’s what had led to her hip replacement surgery to begin with. “I’m so glad. Thank you for that, House.”

The house gave a happy rumble at the praise.

Nana stopped in front of me, her whole body alight with anticipation and curiosity. “How goes the studying?”

“This is really fascinating.” I waved the book in my hand. “I’m reading about the history of Imagineers at the moment. Apparently, at one point there was a huge interconnected highway of portals leading all over the world. There was even a central hub on a different plane, a sort of grand central station, but it fell out of use about a hundred years ago. They had to seal the station up, actually, and parts of the highway were destroyed in various wars and natural disasters. But before that, it was in use a good six hundred years, and a group of Imagineers built it.”

Nana’s eyebrows furrowed. “While you were at school, Klaus explained a great deal about portals and pocket spaces. He mostly did it to reassure me about the bathroom, I think, and to explain how so many of the clan’s homes and businesses are hidden inside other existing buildings. He told me portals can only go a short distance, that it was too draining to go more than a dozen feet with them, hence why they still used conventional means of travel. But the Imagineers had a portal highway system?”

“Yeah, fascinating, right? I wish the book explained how they did it,” –I frowned at the interior— “but it doesn’t. Actually, it doesn’t explain the mechanics of any cool thing my predecessors did, just the history of it. I can see why Mactep gave me the book to read, though. It gives me an idea of what Imagineers can do.”

“I want to read that book after you’re done with it,” Nana informed me, practically licking her chops.

I grinned at her sassily. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh hush, you know very well by now you came by your love of all things magical honestly.” Tapping a finger to the rubber grip of her arm-rest, she motioned to my other textbook on the side table. “And that one?”

“First two chapters were all explanations on why visualization was important and roughly how to go about it. After that, each chapter is an exercise to help develop your mind. I did one yesterday. I’m supposed to do that one and a new one today.” I picked it up and handed it over so she could leaf through it. “It’s almost like meditation, but I’m supposed to focus on something in particular with every sense activated. Easy to do in theory, really hard to do in practice.”

“I can imagine. The human mind only likes to focus for about four minutes, really. It’s why we have to train to meditate for any length of time.”

I had not known that. But that really did make a lot of sense on why I struggled to focus.

“Walk me through what you’re doing,” Nana requested.

I knew she was fascinated by all of this, but she also wanted to understand, and I was happy to share what I’d learned. If I only had one family member who could see me as I was and celebrate that with me, then I’d enjoy that one person to the max.

“Okay, so.” I closed my eyes because it was easier to do this at the moment with eyes close. “Let’s say I want to create an apple. Apples are more or less three layers, right? Core, fruit, skin. Assuming I don’t want a stem on mine or seeds, which I don’t. So I visualize first the shape and size of it, with all its interior sections, then the color of the skin. Once I have that down, I think of the scent it gives off, the taste of it, the smoothness of the skin. I keep this in mind very firmly and hold it for a minute, if I can. If this wasn’t just a verbal practice, I’d try to release the image, magically speaking, by imagining it in my hand. Maybe a release word, like ‘apple’ or—”

A sudden weight in my hand cut me off. My eyes popped open and I stared at the apple resting quite solidly in my palm. Uhhh. How did that happen?

“Reagan.” Nana sounded cool as a cucumber, but her eyes were also a trifle wide in her face as she stared at the apple. “Did you mean to do that?”

Shaking my head slowly back and forth, I croaked, “Nope. Uh.” This was different from the chocolate bar. I’d intended for that to be real. I’d not intended to make the apple. “Maybe I should call Mactep and report this?”

“Yes, honey, I think that’s a good idea.” Nana carefully lifted the apple out of my palm and looked at it curiously from all angles. “Is this safe to eat?”

“Should be. But I’ll ask Mactep.” I dug my phone out of my pocket and quickly found her in my contacts. I hadn’t had to call her yet, but supposedly three days of being her student was pushing my luck before something happened.

She answered on the second ring. “Devushka, what did you break?”

“Fortunately, nothing.” Seriously, did Imagineers come with seer powers? “I, um, accidentally created an apple.”

There was a weighty pause. “Walk me through what you did.”

I did, step by step, including my experiment earlier today with the chocolate bar, and ending with, “Nana’s now holding it and wondering if it’s safe to eat.”

“Likely so,” Zoya answered in amusement. She sounded more resigned than upset. “Well, I can say with certainty you’ve grasped the basics well. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise anyone. You conjured glasses while sleeping, after all.”

I blinked. “Wait, I conjured the glasses?”

“Of course you conjured them. Where did you think they came from?”

“They weren’t a gift from someone else?”

“Njet. You wanted to see us so badly, you created glasses to help you do it.”

“Oh.” I sat on that for a second, both proud and scared. I could conjure things in my sleep? This could go so poorly.

“I assumed—wrongly apparently—your strong desire made the glasses for you. That you weren’t ready for actual conjuring lessons yet. But if you’re creating things now without any real desire to do so, then your imagination and will are far stronger than I guessed. Scratch the idea of weekend lessons, devushka. I think we better do evening lessons three times a week. And no more visualizing exercises for you without supervision.”

With a nervous laugh, I agreed, “Probably wise. Okay. I’ll read the other book, then.”

“Horosho. Da, good. Eat the apple, devushka, and see you tomorrow after school is out.” Chuckling, my master hung up.

Nana beat me to the punch by taking a good, healthy bite of the apple. Grinning at me, she chewed.

“Tastes fine, then? You know the apple is what did Snow White in, right?”

Swallowing, Nana sassed back, “You’re not an evil witch and I’m not the fairest in the land. I think we’ll be fine. I heard Zoya laughing.”

“Yeah, I’m not in trouble. But apparently I’ve jumped the learning curve a little. She didn’t expect me to be able to imagine that strongly at this stage.” I felt more than a little pride at that.

“You’ve always had a good imagination,” Nana pointed out, still working her way through my apple.

“Understatement. No one’s accused me of having a lack of one. My new schedule is I’ll see her three times a week instead of on the weekend, starting tomorrow after school.” I might have been a little too excited about that. I couldn’t wait to really start training.

Reading me very well, Nana counselled, “Try to actually sleep tonight.”

Grinning, I acknowledged ruefully, “I’ll try.”

School was interminable the next day. I got through it, somehow, although I honestly couldn’t remember most of what my classes covered. I escaped from school like a convict from prison. Ciarán met me near the car, an amused smile on his face. “How was school?”

“It happened,” I said, impatient to get into the car. Why was he blocking the driver’s side?

“That’s all?”

“It stopped happening.” Why were my keys not in my pocket?

Ciarán, the rat fink, dangled them in front of my nose. “I’ll drive. Get in.”

I really did not care. I zipped over to the passenger side and hopped in.

I won’t lie. Seeing a person I knew to be over two hundred years old—who could shapeshift into any creature he so desired—drive a Honda Civic was a bit jarring. Also fascinating at the same time. Dunno why, just was.

He drove us out past Shively Park, along the 202, which was something of a scenic route. It wound along the banks of Young’s River, the road sparsely populated with businesses and houses, mostly trees and open meadows of thriving grass.

With it just being the two of us in the car, I felt like I could possibly get a better feel for my new companion. “Ciarán, you mind answering some questions for me?”

“I’m actually surprised I haven’t gotten them before now,” he responded with an encouraging nod.

“I’ve been in brain overload for the past four days, cut me some slack. Okay, I’m trying to sort truth from legend. How much of the pooka’s legend is fact?”

“Hmm, I’ve not read up on my people,” he admitted, slowing to take the next turn. “So I couldn’t tell you that. But I can tell you the basics. We’re one of the most feared fairies in Ireland. Some of my kin are beyond mischievous and they’re forever out causing trouble, which is likely part of the reason for our fierce reputation. You’ve seen for yourself my ability to shapeshift into multiple forms. My preferred form is that of a black stallion.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“It feels…more natural, I suppose one could say. It’s not terribly convenient though, so most of the time I choose other forms to shift into. As much as my people like to stir up mischief, there’re others who prefer to be helpful. My immediate clansmen are more the helpful sort.” In a tone of dispensing sage advice, he lifted a finger toward me. “If ever you encounter a fairy outside of the clan, never give it your name. Not even a version of it. If you ‘give’ them your name, it’s theirs to use in whatever manner they wish to. Instead, say something like ‘you may call me Rea’ and that will be both courteous and wise. Giving them permission to call you something is different than giving your name to them. It’s a matter of power. If you’re facing a pooka especially, offer them a gift. It doesn’t have to be elaborate—a scone and cup of tea will suffice—but the friendly overture will make them like you. A pooka who likes you will warn you of dangers and guide you to safe ground. A pooka who doesn’t like you will leave you to your own fate.”

Since I might very well travel to Ireland at some point, I took all this advice to heart. “Do you miss it? Ireland.”

“Ah, lass,” he sighed, his brogue thickening. “I do indeed some days. It’s such a rich, green, rolling land. But you know, what drove me out was the potato famines. It was impossible to stay. We were all starving. And I don’t miss the constant conflicts and wars. This area of America is far more peaceful. I’ve got kinsmen I’d like to bring over—I feel they’d do better with some peace for a few decades—but they’re not keen on the idea of change.”

“But you don’t seem to have that problem,” I pointed out, head cocked as I listened to him. “You jumped right into living with me without even a second’s hesitation.”

“Change is good,” he answered with a blinding smile. “When you live a long life, it’s easy to get stuck in your ways; easy to slip into a rut of comfort and convenience. But it’s a dangerous half-life. I’ve no wish to do that. I prefer a challenge, to feel just a little out of my comfort zone.”

I wasn’t sure if I should be miffed or not, and settled for teasing. “So I’m your challenge?”

He patted me on the head and cooed, “And such a pretty challenge you are.”

I mock-scowled at him and he just laughed.

Some miles away from town, we turned onto a gravel road, taking us away from Young’s River and into the forest on the left side of the two-lane highway.

Oregon had a lot of evergreen trees of various types. Having lived in California most of my life, the idea of trees was still something of a novel concept, although at least the evergreens were familiar. The few places in California with trees mostly had evergreens. Trees hemmed in the road on both sides, making it shady and dimmer—kinda spooky looking, to be honest. It was a thickly overcast sort of day, so there wasn’t much natural light to begin with. I bet it smelled amazing, though. Not that I dared roll down the window, not with rain threatening any second.

The gravel road took a few turns and some twists but it dumped us out shortly at a wide clearing with a cute two-story blue house with white shutters and a bold orange door. I didn’t know what I’d expected for my master’s house, but this house with its flower boxes on the windows, and wind chimes hanging from the front porch? This was definitely not it.

“Mactep lives here? Really?”

Ciarán lifted an eyebrow at me. “Were you expecting a Baba Yaga house on chicken legs?”

Lifting a shoulder in a shrug, I admitted, “You’re not far off. This is really cute, though.”

“Yes, Ivan built it himself. He’s quite proud of it.”

Pulling out my two books, a notebook to take notes in, and a pen, I popped out of the car and headed up the stone sidewalk. Paying proper attention, I could see wards on the place. The language was all in Russian, so of course I didn’t stand a chance of reading it, but I guessed them to be general wards of protection from intruders and storms. Those were the two wards that Klaus had put on my house, at least. The door opened as I stared at the wards and Ivan waved to me in welcome.

“Hi, Ivan,” I greeted, coming up the steps.

“Come inside,” he encouraged, pulling me gently in. “Ciarán, I have tea and snacks on the table for you.”

“You’re always such a good host, Ivan,” Ciarán responded happily. “No one makes better cookies than you do.”

“I would say you’re being kind,” Ivan said, with a quick grin over his shoulder, “but if it’s true, well.”

I adored this man.

The inside of the house looked very well settled in. A wide-screen TV hung on one wall—displaying some sort of witchery cooking show involving potion-making, it looked like—with a worn-in blue couch and lazy-boy chair in the corner. Pictures were everywhere on the walls, mostly in small frames of people all smiling. Ivan didn’t pause, but led us through the room, then through a dining room barely large enough to hold a table, and into a much larger space out the back. There was little to nothing in it, just a work table that had seen better days, two padded stools, and a linoleum floor straight from the eighties. The room had obviously been a sunroom at some point in time, as it was walled with windows on all sides, but it was clearly Zoya’s space now. An Imagineer needed no materials to craft with, just the space to work in. This clean, airy room made that point quite clearly.

Zoya sat at the table, waiting on me, and she looked satisfied by what she saw in my hands. “You came prepared. Horosho. Now, sit. Make me an apple.”

I blinked at this abrupt demand, although perhaps I should have expected it. She wanted to see for herself what I’d done yesterday. I put everything in my hands down on the table and took the stool. It had quite a bit of cushion to it, which was good. I had a feeling I’d be sitting here a while. Settled, I closed my eyes and focused as I had the previous evening, building the apple in my mind one layer at a time. Core, flesh, skin. Texture. Color. Taste. “Apple.”

The weight of the apple in my palm barely registered before Zoya plucked it free and examined it. I opened my eyes to watch her, very nervous as to what her take on it would be.

She bit into it, munching for a moment, giving a judicious nod. “It even tastes right. Horosho. You can manage things with three levels. I should have expected that. The glasses are three levels.”

I blinked at her. True, they were, weren’t they? Frames, screws in the frames, panes. “So what now?”

“Now, devushka, you start practicing on four-level objects.” Zoya put the apple down, her hands lifting as she talked. “Imagineers have only two ways to train: study and practice. Learn everything you can about how things are created, the materials used, the craftsmanship of them. Then you practice creating them. Over and over again, until you can do it without painstaking thought. I will release you as my student when we are both satisfied you have hit your maximum level of conjuring. You are adept and a master when you can conjure safely without causing problems.”

“Fair enough,” I agreed. It all sounded logical enough to me. Anything you learned took practice; that was just common sense. “So what four-level object should I try to make next?”

Her eyebrows rose in challenge. “You tell me. What object is four levels, something you think you can make?”

Uhhh…could I google this?

“Right, see that there?” Ciarán pointed to a tree with an obvious growth out of the side. “That’s intentional. If you see a tree with that large of a lump, that’s a boundary marker. Or it’s the site of a forest gnome’s house, either/or. Usually a boundary marker. If you cross one of those, you’re out of clan territories, and it’s more likely you’ll be in danger.”

I noted the place with due diligence, because while I might be able to protect myself in the future, it wasn’t going to happen today. Or even next month.

Ciarán had taken me out of the house today. I was supposed to be doing homework but we were out here instead, with him either driving or walking the clan’s boundaries. It was chilly, the day an unseasonable thirty degrees, and I could feel the stiffness of a storm blowing in. Snowstorms weren’t unheard of in May, but I hoped the forecast was wrong. I was a California girl at heart, and we didn’t do snow.

“But what about when there aren’t trees?”

“Always good to check, in those cases,” he answered, still walking along the side of the road. “Normally we use some sort of geographical boundary, like the river, as a marker. But not always. In our case, the river is part of clan territory, and we go from here to the coastline.”

“Gotcha.” I walked side-by-side with him, staring at the tree in particular. Was it my imagination, or was some sort of activity going on at the roots of that tree?

The trees up north were typically evergreens of some sort. Not always, some variety existed, but this patch of trees up near the channel was definitely of the evergreen variety. A thick bed of dead pine needles lay along the ground, cushioning our footsteps as we walked. I looked about curiously, spying not only a few fairies flitting from branch to branch, but other species as well. Water sprites hovering over the surface of the water, the tips of their blue toes barely grazing the surface; several dryads peeking out of their trunks and waving hello; one crooked old woman, her back so bent her head nearly sat on top of her knees. A hag?

The hag stopped us with a lifted hand, her bulbous eyes taking me in from head to toe. “Who’s this, Ciarán?”

“Reagan. She’s our new Imagineer and Zoya’s student,” Ciarán introduced politely. With a wave toward her, he said, “This is Bella, our Forest Witch. She’s the overseer of the northern border.”

I gave her a polite smile. “Hello, Miss Bella.”

“Bella’s fine, child. And hello.” She had an Old World accent, if that made sense. A sort of medieval European sound, as if she’d spoken Old English before learning anything modern. It made me wonder just how old she was. “Are you walking the clan’s territory?”

“I am, yes. Best for me to know the boundaries, right?”

“Quite right, quite right,” she agreed, bobbing her head. With a wave, she brought me in closer. “Now, there are guardians at each section of the border. We serve as caretakers. We’ll sound an alarm if there’s serious trouble, and solve all the minor ones. Each overseer is a magician, typically, as we can patch any trouble in the barriers and wards. Still, we’re quick to call for help if it’s over our heads. We’ll be seeing you up here often, I imagine.”

I found that assumption to be curious and a little alarming. “Why do you say that? The barrier often has problems?”

“No, child, we often have trouble.” Bella grimaced and told Ciarán frankly, “That rogue pair of vampires are hassling us again. I think they’re hungry. They’re not looking too seemly, if you take my meaning.”

Ciarán stared hard toward the boundary’s edge. “How close are they?”

“They came in last night, but I’ve not seen them this morning. They were trying to dig out the gnomes. That should tell you something.”

My pooka guardian growled in disgust. “It certainly does.”

I lifted a hand. “Not following.”

“You know the story, the Elves and the Shoemaker?” Bella asked me.

“Well, yes.”

“And Santa’s elves, don’t forget,” Ciarán input as an aside.

Bella nodded. “And those. Well, they’re not elves, dear. They’re gnomes. Gnomes only stand about six inches tall. Fierce little ones, they are, and they’ve quite a bit of magic. Still. Six inches tall. You can imagine how much blood a vampire can drain from something only six inches.”

It’d be like trying to hydrate using a shot glass, I’d imagine. “So, they’re very desperate.”

“Looks that way to me.” Bella put a hand on my arm, the touch gentle, although her fingers felt cold as ice. “You be careful. You’re a rich prize to them. Rogues don’t like to feed from anyone in the clan, it brings trouble down on their heads more often than not. And Nixes are the best nutrient sources for them, anyway. Rogue vampires don’t have the same resources as the law-abiding ones. They’ll see you as a rich prize. At least, they will until they’ve got fangs in you, but it’ll be a bit too late by then.”

Because nothing about me physically looked different than a regular Nix. I grimaced in understanding. “Warning taken. Thank you.”

We kept walking, although I stopped a few times and said hello to some of the gnomes. The boldest of them offered me a flower, something pure white and fuzzy, and I put it behind my ear. He seemed pleased by that and bounced away to brag to his friends as Ciarán pulled me away.

“If it’s so dangerous, why are the gnomes on the outer fringes like this?” I asked Ciarán as we headed for the car.

“Overcrowding is part of it. When Mitsuki-sama blended his people with Porter’s, we reached capacity very quickly. Mitsuki-sama’s in talks with a clan further south of us. He wants to expand territories a little, give us some breathing room. But it’s not been going well so far. The other clan has mostly werelions, and they don’t have enough territory to roam properly as it is. Still, he’s hopeful he can work out something.”

“But we have pocket dimensions, don’t we?”

“And those help, sure. But…” Ciarán paused with his hand on the door, staring at me over the roof of the car. “I’m not sure how to explain this. You know how each Door can be anchored to go into another space? You’ve seen our Doors throughout town.”

I nodded. He’d shown me around town the day before yesterday. The clan’s Doors—you could hear the capital letter whenever someone referred to them—were scattered throughout Astoria. Their locations held no rhyme or reason. Wherever a ‘vacant’ building was, so was a Door. If a place had unused doors, or at least doors with not much in the way of street traffic, there was a Door. They anchored a pocket dimension to these places to give the magical clan an easy access point to businesses, houses, schools.

I’d been in and out of several of them, not to mention seen how Klaus used his pocket dimension, so I felt like I had a handle on them. Anyone who possessed a trace of magic in their system could use the Doors. You just had to put your hand on the Door and step through. Well, there had to be intent behind it as well. I’d failed to open the first Door I’d seen, the one near the grocery store, because I’d not had the intent to actually enter. Jiggling the Door to test if it’s locked apparently didn’t count.

“Yes, well, those spaces aren’t infinite. They do exist elsewhere, just on a slightly different plane than this one. And they can’t be crowded up against each other. Bad things tend to happen. I’ve actually seen that play out once. Two brothers were arguing about using a building, as it had two available doors, so they put their businesses side-by-side. The pocket dimensions kept butting up against each other, and eventually—” his hands spread out as he made a noise, mimicking an explosion.

I could just picture the fallout of that. “Did the building survive?”

“Not so much,” he denied wryly, finally sliding into the driver’s seat.

Following his example, I slid into the passenger’s side. “And what did the Nixes think it was?”

“Gas leak.”

He said it so deadpan that I snickered. “Stop it. You sound like a CIA agent from some movie. Gas leak. Really?”

“Nine times out of ten, when you see an explained explosion on the news? It’s someone who did something stupid with a pocket dimension. They’re stable when done right, but they are attuned to the brick and mortar building they’re anchored in. If something goes haywire, well…” Ciarán shrugged eloquently as he started to drive down the road.

“I’ll remember that.”

“Do. You’re one of the first people called in those situations.”

I thought about what it would entail to clean up a building after a ‘gas leak’ with all the Nixes’ first responders on scene, and winced. That sounded like a whole bag-full-of-pissed-off-cats trouble there. “I don’t look forward to that.”

“There’s a reason you Imagineers are paid so well, let me put it that way. You deal with more trouble than—”

From the corner of my eye, I saw it: two blurs of brown fur barreling at us from the side. I shouted some sort of garbled warning, my surprise enough to render me inarticulate, and then they slammed into the passenger side. Metal groaned and buckled under the impact, the glass shattered, and I automatically threw my hands up to shield my face. The car screeched as it left the pavement, the noise mixed in with grunts of pain sounding more animal than human. I felt it when the car lurched onto its side, and we crashed again, this time to a dead stop.

The air bags had deployed, the side ones anyway, and it filled my vision for a moment. I hung by the seat belt, something wet trickling down my face and into my eyes, and I wiped it away, my head spinning. It took me a second to orient myself, then my eyes fell on Ciarán. He was pillowed against the side airbags as well, blinking and shaking his head. Blood-spray slashed across his nose and jaw and small glass shards stood out on the back of his hand.

“Ciarán?” I asked, heart in my throat. “You okay?”

“Blood and ashes,” he swore, shaking his head again. “What hit us?”

“I don’t—”

As if an answer, two mournful howls went up.

Ciarán’s mouth went flat with anger. “Those morons.” Raising his voice, he demanded, “YOU TWO IDIOTS GET US OUT OF HERE. STOP BAYING LIKE MINDLESS TWITS!”

I still couldn’t see anything and the belt was starting to cut into my sides. “You know who they are?”

“Not know, but there’re few things big enough to hit a car and knock it off the road accidentally, and only two stupid enough in our clan to do it because they weren’t paying enough bloody attention!” Ciarán yelled that last part. “Werewolf pups, you’ll discover, have the sense of a pregnant fruit fly and the attention span of one as well.”

A sheepish teenage male voice muttered, “We didn’t mean to.”

“You never freaking mean to,” Ciarán snapped, “which is part of the problem, Aidan.”

The door creaked open, mostly because it had to be muscled open, then a strong set of arms reached in to pull me out.

“You need to unbuckle her first, you half-wit.” Another voice cut in from outside.

“If you’re such an expert, you get her out. Then you get to explain why we got into a car accident with a Nix to the alpha.”

“Uh,” I couldn’t help but insert, “I’m not a Nix. I’m an Imagineer. Zoya’s apprentice?”

Dead silence and the hands on me stilled.

Then they whimpered pitifully.

“Yeah, you heard her right, boys,” Ciarán said with vicious satisfaction. “You’re in for it now. Worse, Klaus is her kobold. What would you like on your tombstones?”

I heard more whimpering and a few swear words, but they pulled themselves together and got me out of the car first. I climbed out with their strong hands holding onto my arms and waist, my entire body twinging in discomfort. I had the worst feeling I’d gotten a bad case of whiplash from the crash.

The two outside must have shifted back to their human appearance at some point. They looked to be about my age, and really, they were kind of cute. They looked like twins. Same ruffled brown hair cut short, same freckles across pale skin, same lanky builds. They wore shorts and nothing else, which made a sort of sense. I didn’t imagine werewolves were in the habit of carting a lot of clothes around with them. Although weren’t they cold, dressed like that in thirty-degree weather?

Ciarán climbed out without their help and gave them the stink eye. Both boys barely noticed, still staring mournfully at me, as if they knew they’d really done it this time.

Shaking my head, I went with the practicalities first. Normally, I’d call the police and report this, but I couldn’t very well say, ‘Officer, two teenage werewolves hit me, but it was totally an accident.’ I could, however, call a tow truck. And we’d need one, considering how far out of town we were.

My guardian stilled me when I pulled out my phone. “Wait, let me call Zoya. I want her to bring Ivan to look you over. I don’t like how your head is bleeding.”

I gave him an odd look. “I’m okay. It was just a small cut. And I was calling a tow truck.”

It was his turn to give me an odd look. “Why would you call a tow truck in this situation? We have an Imagineer who can put the car to rights.”

“Oh.” I stared at the car in consternation. “You sure?”

“Trust me, I’ve seen her do something similar before. She just can’t do it all in one sweep. And I’d best call Klaus. And their alpha. Both will want words with them.”

I once again felt like I was missing a step. “Why Klaus? This isn’t really his department.”

Ciarán gave me another funny look. “Because my head will roll if something happens to you and he doesn’t know about it.”

Uh, why? Again, I didn’t get it.

Ciarán didn’t choose to explain anything further, just started calling people. I wiped at my head again and frowned at the amount of blood on my fingers as a result. I knew head wounds bled more than other parts of the body, but…that much? Maybe the cut was more serious than I realized? I admit, I didn’t feel entirely with it. Was I in shock?

“We’re so, so sorry,” one of the twins told me, looking like I’d kicked his puppy. Did werewolves keep puppies? “We were racing, and we didn’t think anyone would be on this road. It’s totally our bad. I didn’t see you until I was right on you. I couldn’t swerve in time.”

“And this idiot tripped me up,” the other brother said with a baleful glare at his twin. “So I couldn’t avoid you either. You’re Reagan Hunt, right? I’m Aidan, this is Gavin.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. And it’s okay, accidents happen.”

“Our alpha won’t look at it that way,” Aidan said with a forlorn sigh.

“Klaus really won’t look at it that way,” Gavin said, matching his sigh exactly. “Hey, you want me to lick that cut clean for you?”

Did I want a teenage werewolf boy licking my forehead? I was gonna go with a, “No. Thanks.”

It struck me that if the wolves were up in this area, then what I’d likely seen so many weeks ago was a defense of the eastern border. The wolves had likely been defending clan territory against a rogue manticore. (I’d finally gotten someone to confirm it was manticore quills that hit my car.) For that matter, the one glimpse of someone flying on a broom had likely been Bella. It still left the question of who had thrown me into a car and fixed the tire, though. Maybe I could get to the bottom of that mystery. Although this didn’t seem the right moment to ask questions.

From further along the road came a whoosh of displaced air, and Bella appeared on a broom. An actual broom. So the stories were true on that one, eh? She dropped lightly to the ground, her sprightliness belying her age, and took the scene in with a sweep of her eyes. “What happened?!”

The twins fell all over each other trying to explain how it was the other’s fault, and Bella’s expression initially displayed confusion at the jumbled account, then outrage as she put it together. Her face screwed up in a fierce scowl, she pointed to the ground in front of her feet.

“Sit. DOWN. And not another peep out of you! How many times have I told you not to race along this road, to not race each other at all, and now! Look what you’ve done! You understand that Imagineer or not, she’s got a human body, and she’s more fragile than you lot, don’t you?! You could have killed her!”

A contralto voice growled menacingly from the woods, “A point I will take up with them at length.”

I turned to see the speaker and my eyes grew a little wide. Nana had told me once that the reason why so many European fairytales featured wolves as the villain was because wolves were huge. They were the most menacing creature in the medieval world. I don’t think I really understood the implications until faced with the alpha of a werewolf pack. He (she?) was the size of a small horse, easily looking me right in the eye as he stepped one foot in front of another, anger radiating from him in almost visible waves. I swallowed hard and thought of confessing, and I hadn’t actually done anything.

The twins? They kneeled on the ground and whimpered in high-pitched whines for mercy.

The alpha shifted forms as she walked, as smoothly as a runway model shirking a coat, and her human form was just as deadly looking. In fact, if I’d been told she was a mafia hitman, I’d believe it. The scar across her eye and cheek might have something to do with that impression. Or the rugged, muscular body that flexed with every movement. She was neither beautiful nor plain—her features too hard and striking to be either. She went straight to the twins, balling both hands into fists, and then struck them both solidly on the head in a loud smack.

They yelped in dual pain but didn’t dare look up.

“You two,” the alpha growled, words rumbling despite coming from human vocal chords, “are in for a world of pain. Disobeying my law is bad enough. But you harm our new clan member? What is clan?”

“Clan is blood,” they whispered at the ground.

“And what is blood?”

“Protected.”

“And you do not hurt what you are supposed to protect.” Utter disgust showed in her body language as she threw up a hand and turned sharply on her heel, her back to them. Coming to me, she looked me over, her penetrating gaze sending a shiver up my spine. “Reagan. A thousand apologies for my idiots. How badly are you hurt?”

“I think it’s just a few cuts and maybe some whiplash,” I hastily assured her. I didn’t want those two murdered later. “Really, the car absorbed most of the damage.”

“You’re bleeding along your arm, too,” she said and gently took my right elbow, turning the arm to get a better look. “That’s not from your head.”

Once she moved the arm, I felt it and winced. Maybe a glass shard got me?

Her eyes went to Ciarán as she let go. “You’re not in much better shape.”

Ciarán waved this off. “I’ll heal fine, Karly. Reagan, this is Karleen, Alpha of the werewolves. You two haven’t met yet, but she’s the guardian of the eastern border.”

“Which is why my idiots like to trample through this neck of the woods,” Karleen added with another dark look at the still cowering twins. “I’ll have to apologize to Klaus for this.”

Almost as if he’d been summoned, a van I knew well screeched up. Klaus hopped out and headed straight for me, his eyes flicking over the scene with a very tight expression. He had a satchel in his hands, an actual satchel that could have been straight from the medieval ages.

“Reagan,” he said softly, taking my hand. His voice was quiet but I was in no doubt about how angry he felt. I could practically hear his molars grinding as he spoke through clenched teeth. “Come, sit. Let’s deal with that bleeding. Are you hurt elsewhere?”

I felt a bit bemused by all the attention. Yes, I’d been in a car accident. And I was rattled, no lie. But still, I wasn’t in bad condition. I hadn’t even broken anything. “Klaus, it’s not as bad as it looks—”

“Come,” he directed, and he pulled me toward the van, opening the door and having me sit on the floor inside. “You let me clean this up. Ciarán told me what happened. I’ll deal with them in a minute.”

That sounded ominous. “Klaus, really, I’m okay.”

“I’m very relieved to see you upright,” he answered. It felt like a non-answer, a response without any commitment. He dug into his satchel and pulled out gauze and some sort of wipes, and started dabbing at my forehead. It smelled like alcohol and certainly burned like it. “There’re glass shards in here. I’ll need to get those out before we can bandage it.”

Karleen came to stand behind him, peering down at me as well. “I can lick that clean.”

What was it with wolves and licking things? I mean, seriously.

Klaus turned to peer up at her, and despite being a good two feet taller, Karleen backed down. The alpha had her hands up in surrender as she took two steps away, carefully indicating she wasn’t trying to step on toes.

“Can’t believe this,” Klaus rasped in a low tone, shooting irate looks at every werewolf in sight. “I send you out to do a tour of the clan, which should have been safe, only for you to get into a car accident because two testosterone-fueled boys can’t think with their heads instead of their—”

I put a hand on his shoulder, staying him. I really, really didn’t understand why he was so upset. He looked at me, and at this height, we were eye-level. A vein visibly twitched near his eye. I felt a strange tug in my chest.

I’d seen this expression before—never aimed at me, granted—but I’d seen it before. On fathers’ faces, when their child was hurt.

But Klaus wasn’t my father.

Only…I blinked, listening to the word clang around in my head like a spoon in a bucket, lonely without any other words to follow it.

Oblivious to my turmoil, he grasped my hand and squeezed tenderly. “It’s alright. Just emergency aid here, then we’ll have Ivan take a proper look at you.”

I didn’t know what else to say, how to explain how confused his reactions made me. I went with something else instead. “Ciarán has glass embedded in the back of his hand.”

“I’m treating him!” Bella called to me.

“Oh good,” I blurted in relief. “Klaus, um, look, I know you’re really angry—I don’t fully get why, but I get you’re angry—but really, Aidan and Gavin totally didn’t see us and they weren’t trying to hit the car or anything, and I know they’ve been warned several times to not go running about up here, but they honestly are so, so apologetic about the whole thing, and they did pull me out quickly and made sure we were both okay and—”

He put a chaste kiss on my forehead, and my tongue stuttered to a stop so suddenly I almost choked on it. In my life, the only person who’d ever kissed my forehead was Nana. It stunned me so thoroughly I could only stare at him.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a smile probably meant to be reassuring, but came out looking hard and sharp. “I won’t murder them. But I’ll be very, very thorough in educating them on why your safety is important. They’ll understand after today just what it means to—” here he turned his head to glare at them past the open door “—hurt one of mine.”

The twins, I kid you not, were so prostrate at this point they were trying to put their noses into the ground. I could see them through the narrow opening between door and fender. They were literally more afraid of my kobold guardian than their own alpha. And that? That said a lot.

As if he hadn’t just made two werewolves wet themselves, Klaus went back to carefully dabbing at me with alcohol wipes. “Now, first, let’s get you cleaned up and bandaged.”

Another car pulled up behind the van, and I heard my master as she exploded from it, her voice ringing out. “Aidan! Gavin! What have you done to my apprentice?!”

Those poor guys. They were going to be in trouble for the next decade.

Zoya came straight to me, peered at me over Klaus’s head, then grunted. “Could be worse. Klaus?”

“I need some tweezers from Ivan,” he said over his shoulder, “but it’s mostly cuts.”

“Probably whiplash too, with the way the car went over,” Ivan put in, coming up behind me. “Ciarán, how are you?”

“Meh, I’ll live. Bella has me in hand, focus on Reagan.”

I couldn’t see him from this angle, but he sounded fine and that relieved me.

Klaus gave way so Ivan could kneel in front of me and take over, his own black bag in hand, from which he pulled out the tweezers. My kobold watched for only a moment before saying to Zoya, “See if you can fix the car. I’ve got the mongrels.”

“You know, she is my apprentice,” Zoya protested.

Klaus gave her such a look that she threw up both of her hands in surrender. I watched him, and my impression from before grew even stronger. He really was acting like a father. I didn’t know how to react to any of this.

Klaus and Ciarán had only been with me a week. Why would they care about me so deeply, so quickly? My own parents didn’t react like this when I was in trouble. I’d assumed they were only with me because Mitsuki-sama had assigned them. All this time, I’d thought I was a duty. One they’d willingly taken on, sure, but still. An imposition. A burden. My own father didn’t want to take any real responsibility for me, why would anyone else bother?

But Klaus wasn’t acting that way at all. He was livid I’d been hurt. He was already coming to my defense even while being gentle with me. I didn’t get it, I really didn’t, but I could see with my own two eyes how he felt. I had his full and undivided attention. I had his affection and protection. I now understood why so many girls turned to their fathers when something happened. It was really nice, knowing I had that sort of automatic support when crap hit the fan.

Ivan pulled out a splinter from my head, dropped it to the ground, then stared at me oddly. “People don’t normally smile when I pull glass out of their skin.”

My expression probably did look strange, in context. “I just feel really, really loved right now.”

His eyes twinkled as he leaned in and murmured, “Well, devushka, that’s because you are. Really, really loved.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, grin widening. I may have been confused, but I felt happy in my confusion. “Mactep! Make sure Klaus doesn’t kill them!”

My master harrumphed. “I’m not about to argue with him. He has frustrated paternal inclinations.”

Klaus cackled evilly. I mean, Wicked-Witch-of-the-West evil. “Don’t worry, Rea. They’ll survive.”

That was the opposite of reassuring.

Klaus drove us home. To my surprise, Matteo was waiting on the front porch as we pulled into the driveway. As I got out, he waved hello and explained, “Ivan wants me to give you a good massage. It’ll prevent you from locking up so bad with the whiplash.”

“Sounds heavenly.” My neck and shoulders were already stiffening. I had no experience with whiplash, but some things you don’t need to live through to know it’d be better to skip it.

House opened the door for us and I went in to find Nana rolling through the dining room door, a worried look on her face. “Kiddo, how bad was it?”

“Whiplash and some cuts for both of us,” I answered, leaning down to give her a careful hug. Although for once, I was the reason for moving gingerly. “But we’re okay. Mactep fixed the car; she’s driving it here.”

Nana relaxed visibly. “Oh good. What happened?”

Matteo came in behind me with a folded table under his arms that looked like a portable massage table. “I’ll set this up in the formal living room, alright? House, give me curtains over both doorways for a little privacy, if you would.”

House immediately drew shutters down over the open doorways. I blinked at them. Where in the world had it pulled those from? They looked old in style, like something from the 70’s.

I told Nana the story of the car accident as Matteo set everything up. When he called me in, it was a relief, because I honestly wasn’t sure how to handle all the hovering. I lay flat on my front, arms at my sides, and let Matteo’s magical fingers work out the tension and knots and stress. He put heated rocks along my spine when he was done, and I honestly felt like I was floating when I got off the table.

Vampires were amazing masseuses. Who knew?

Klaus was waiting for me as I stepped out, exchanging places with Ciarán, as of course my pooka friend needed to get worked loose too. Klaus insisted I sit at the table and eat something, that I’d recover faster with something in my stomach. Never mind that it was a good three hours until dinner. Then Mitsuki-sama came by to see how I was doing and assured me the twins wouldn’t be allowed to race each other. Anywhere.

Then Zoya came by with the car, and she and Ivan both looked me over and made sure I was alright.

I appreciated all of the concern, I really did, but it was straaange. I’d never had someone fuss over me in my life. Except Nana. Even a week before, if I’d been in that accident, I wouldn’t have had anyone to call for help. I would have been alone as I called the police, the tow truck, our insurance agent. It would have been on my shoulders to get the car fixed. I had to say, it was nice to not be forced to do it all myself, but I found it weird my life had changed that much in a week. If I’d learned anything today, it was that I was absolutely not alone anymore.

As nice as the attention was, it got overwhelming, with this many people in the house, and I retreated to the library with a breath of relief. I just needed ten minutes to myself.

Ostensibly, I was in here to check my email, so that’s what I did. As I scrolled through the inbox—most of it spam—I saw emails from both of my parents. Clicking in, I read through them, lips pursing as I did. They both announced their intentions to Skype with me tomorrow.

Well. This should prove to be an interesting conversation.

I sat at my computer, Skype up and waiting for the call. Nana sat nearby in her wheelchair, ready to jump in and talk to my parents as well.

This was the first call since I’d walked with open eyes into the magical world. I hadn’t known what to say to my parents without sounding crazy, so I hadn’t mentioned any of it in my emails. They were busy, distracted on their own ends, and it didn’t seem they’d noticed I didn’t have much to say. I didn’t expect for my luck to hold out two weeks in a row. After all, they’d at least question why Nana was here. She was the one who’d emailed them, requesting a Skype call in the first place.

My mother’s ID popped up with a ring, and when I answered the call, her face appeared with a smile. I could tell in a blink I wouldn’t have her attention long. She was dressed in doctor’s scrubs, a stethoscope around her neck, and her blonde hair pulled back into a sensible ponytail. Whenever she dressed like that, I did good to have even a five-minute conversation.

“Hi, honey,” Dr. Audrey Hunt greeted with a flawless smile. I was definitely talking to the doctor and not my mother just then. Her smile faltered a little, her blue eyes flicking to the bandage on my head. “Are you hurt?”

“Got into a minor car accident yesterday,” I said, downplaying it. “It’s just a cut. The car’s fine, too. A friend fixed it for me.”

“That’s a relief. Oh, hi, Julie. I didn’t expect to see you with Reagan at the house.”

“Yes, well, we’ve changed a few things since speaking to you last,” Nana answered steadily. “We arranged the house so that I can stay here with Reagan, did some remodeling, and hired a nurse to come in and administer my medications. My health’s improved some. I’m no longer suffering from the same bad balance issues.”

“That’s excellent,” Mom said and she sincerely meant it, but her eyes were already darting over the screen, her body shifting closer to the edge of her chair, preparing to leave it. “I’m sure you’re both glad for that.”

Sensing we had a narrow window, Nana rushed into the next part. “Also, Reagan’s applied for a magnet school here and has been accepted. I didn’t think you’d mind, so I gave permission to switch her there for her last year of high school.”

Mom’s attention came back to us, her heart-shaped face widening in another genuine smile. “That’s also great news. It’ll better prepare her for college. Sounds like everything’s going well. No problems?”

“No, no problems,” I answered honestly.

“Good. Sorry, got to run. We have a situation out here and not enough hands. I’ll try to email you at some point during the week. Ciao, girls!” The call abruptly ended.

“Well,” I observed to no one particular, “that was easy.”

“I see things have changed, and not in a good way,” Nana grumbled, glaring at the screen.

“That can’t be typical.”

I looked toward the library door, startled. I’d thought Nana and I alone in the room. Ciarán stood there with his hands planted on his hips and an outraged expression darkening his face. “That can’t be typical,” he repeated, voice rising with indignation. “You’re a world away from her, you’re obviously hurt, and she’s in and out of the conversation in two minutes?!”

“Ciarán,” I said gently, although my heart panged with hurt at his words. Mostly because they were so true. “They’re not really parents. They’re more like…really sympathetic friends with credit cards? They have no idea how to parent.”

My pooka guardian started spluttering, turning nearly purple. “But you’re—you’re a precious daughter. I know humans have more children than we do, maybe they don’t see it in the same light, but you’re still their only child. You’re a talented, intelligent woman on the verge of becoming a full-blown Imagineer. And she didn’t even speak to you directly.”

I tried to redirect him before he hopped on a plane and hunted my mother down. The look in his eye suggested lye and thumb screws. “Most mythological races don’t have many children?”

“We have very long lifespans.” His words came out stiff with anger. “We’re not known to have more than one or two children in the hundreds of years we’re alive. There’re a few exceptions to that—werewolves tend to have quite a few children. As do Brownies. Fairies. Dryads, naturally. But that’s about it.”

Fascinating. It did explain why the world wasn’t overrun with magical creatures, though. I had wondered. Mitsuki-sama had told me we only had three thousand in the clan for this entire area, and considering we covered Astoria, Miles Crossing, and Warrenton, that was a lot of land for a small population.

The Skype chimed with an incoming call and I quickly hit accept. Dad popped up and once again I could tell I wouldn’t have a parent’s full attention. He was dressed for work in his usual white button-down shirt, hat on his head that obscured his wiry black hair, his skin looking more bronze than sandstone from all the sun. The abstracted look behind his coke-bottle glasses said his mind lingered on dusty artifacts and not the laptop in front of him.

“Hey, Reagan. Oh, hi Mom.”

“Hello, Maurice. We have some news.”

“Yeah? I’ve only got a few minutes. What’s happened?”

“We arranged for me to stay at the house and get care here.” Only the tension around Nana’s eyes and mouth told how ticked off she already was at this conversation. Unlike Mom, he’d not even noticed I was injured. “And Reagan’s been admitted to a magnet school in the area.”

“Okay. That’s good. Any problems?”

In a random, spur-of-the-moment instinct I blurted out the truth. “I walked into a magical Japanese castle and was adopted by a magical clan.”

Dad gave me a weird look and then grinned, briefly. “And what series have you been reading recently? Alright, well, if there’s no trouble then that’s good. Take care of each other!”

The call ended.

I offered Nana a hopeless look and shrug. What could I do? Even telling the truth hadn’t garnered any reaction. Nana looked ready to take a bite out of someone she was so pissed. I almost didn’t want to look up at Ciarán because he was bound to be livid. With a half-wince of anticipation on my face, I lifted my eyes. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, expression utterly locked down. Murder brewed in his strong features, his normally deep-sea blue eyes almost black with rage.

Coming toward me, he knelt on the floor and drew me into a hug, his large hand covering my head as he closed me in. I startled, because it was the first time he’d ever hugged me like this—an all-encompassing bear hug, instead of a casual affair around the shoulders. It felt affectionate, as well as protective. It was…nice. Against my hair, he promised in a low tone, “Reagan, you are precious to us. I promise if you ever call out to us, any of us in the clan, we will hear you. We will hear you.”

Tears burned at the back of my eyes and I hugged him fiercely to me. That was all I’d ever wanted. To be heard. To know the person looking back at me listened. Was invested in what I had to say. I’d only gotten that from one other person in my life so far.

Now, it seemed as if I had a whole clan, as well as this remarkable man who’d put his life on hold just to protect me. I still wasn’t sure why he’d done it, but was extremely grateful. “Thank you.”

“And when I see your parents, I’ll punch them,” he said decisively.

“I’ll hold them for you,” Nana volunteered flatly. “I didn’t realize they’d gotten worse. Reagan, you should have said something. I thought they were in better contact with you than this. They used to skype with you at least once a week and email you daily.”

“I didn’t want to worry you. And I was fine, I was handling things without their input,” I offered. I wasn’t sure why I was excusing them. The words just tumbled out of my mouth.

“But if they’re not going to come back and routinely check in with you, then I should have been here instead!” Nana insisted. “I thought you had better parental supervision than this.”

“Nana, you weren’t in any shape to do that before,” I pointed out gently. “And truly, I’m fine. Even if you’d known, it wouldn’t have changed things. They wouldn’t have come back before Christmas. Work’s their priority, you know that.”

“Maybe I’ll do more than punch them,” Ciarán mused thoughtfully.

Did I really want a two-hundred-year-old pooka with a mad-on to contemplate the many ways he could torture my parents once he got his hands on them? I was pretty sure he had torture racks in mind.

Fortunately, my phone rang. I disentangled myself to answer it. My screen read Mactep and I answered with the hope she could provide a distraction before the conversation fell into proper methods of dismembering. “Hi, Mactep.”

“Rea, we’ve got a bit of a situation. They’re doing some repair work on the Flavel House Museum. You know where that is?”

“Isn’t it behind the courthouse?” I cast my mind to a mental map. The Flavel House Museum was a beautiful old Victorian sitting right in the middle of downtown. “Across the street from the Oregon Film Museum.”

“That’s it. Well, in the buzz of their saws and tearing out the roof, they’ve completely damaged the glamour spell on the place. Fortunately, the fairies on site have managed to evade the workmen, but we’ll need to re-ward the place and do it snappy.”

I loved it when she used American slang. Mostly because she used the wrong era of slang. “Meet you there?”

“You’re closer than I am. Don’t start anything until I get there.”

Funny how she assumed I knew what in blue blazes to do. “Sure thing, Mactep.”

I did beat her there by a good fifteen minutes. It was rather late in the evening now, nearly nine o’clock at night, and the museum was naturally closed. The three-story building hid beyond the cast-off illumination of the street lights, and instead of a well-cared for Victorian, it looked a bit more like a haunted house. I knew it was a white building with creamy tan trim work, and a porch wrapping around the octagonal tower, but right now? It just looked like a lot of shadows and dark windows.

Thing was, it really was haunted.

Ciarán stood at my side in a black dog form. His ears swiveled back and forth as he automatically tracked the night sounds of insects, birds, street traffic, and the flying creatures zooming overhead. Our clansmen tended to fly the most at night. Less chance of being caught, I guessed.

I waited under the big fir tree in the front yard, rocking back and forth on my heels. “I’ve rarely seen a tree this big. It’s impressive. Actually, the whole yard is impressive. Not to mention the house. It’s a museum, so I assume there’s a pocket dimension inside it? Yeah, figured. Who all lives here?”

“It’s something of a mix,” Ciarán answered while keeping a lookout all around us. “The two who own the house are vampires, a couple who’ve been here as long as the house itself, along with their two daughters. You’ll meet them as we go in. Captain Flavel was one of the area’s first millionaires. He encountered a rogue vampire in 1893 who ‘killed’ him. They weren’t sure what to do at first, him being the first one turned in this area in…well, ever. Porter, I understand, wasn’t the clan leader then—not even born yet—it was his grandfather who took the man on. Over the next thirty years or so, they spaced it out so each person in his family was able to turn vampire as well and join him. The daughter, Katie, was the last to turn in 1922. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about them yet.”

I shrugged. “I’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I’m not surprised. The only vampire I’ve met so far is Matteo, and he’s a riot.”

“Yeah, these four are more straight-laced. Still good-humored, though, and George swears like a sailor. Probably because he used to be one. Anyway, they’ve got a zashiki-warashi living with them too, and a kobold. I think she’s Klaus’s grand-niece three times removed or something. Also on the grounds is a nest of fairies and one dryad.”

I listened to this list curiously. We had a mix of four different nationalities of mythology on one piece of property? The vampires were Translyvanian, the kobold German, the fairies English, the dryad Greek, and the zashiki-warashi Japanese. And why a zashiki-warashi, who was known more for bringing rainy weather, would be here…well. No, come to think of it, they did like to live in houses, didn’t they? Storage rooms or something like that. And they were known for bringing good luck to a family.

“I didn’t think the races mixed all that well?”

“Some do, some don’t. The territorial or hot-tempered ones tend to live on the outskirts of clan territory and keep to themselves.”

“Ah. Gotcha.”

Headlights washed over us as Zoya pulled up to the curb, parking her massive Ford truck before hopping lightly out. She came around, her eyes already on the house. “Ooh, yes, I see the problem. Chert. Alright, come with me. We’ll go to the side entrance. Front Door can’t be used right now.”

I didn’t see immediately what she meant by that. As I walked up the concrete steps, my eyes picked out the structure of the ward a little better and saw the problem. What should have been a strong, vibrant glow of antique gold instead looked greyed out. It looked as if someone had taken an ice pick and buried it into the left side of the house’s ward before yanking hard, ripping a whole chunk away. As a result, everything else was skewed. The portal spell on the front door was, in fact, situated over the narrow window framing the door. Which obviously wouldn’t work.

We went along the grass to the side, and the Door stood open there, light spilling out like a welcome beacon. A man—excuse me, vampire—waited in the Doorway. He wore a three-piece modern suit, perfectly tidy, with a thin face and a receding hairline. He looked nice, really; like a respectable businessman who had just gotten home from work. Perhaps he had.

“Zoya,” he greeted in a pleasant manner, voice gruff like a smoker’s. “You made good time. My apologies for dragging you out so late. We weren’t aware of how bad the problem had become until an hour ago.”

“You know you were supposed to call me or Hector when repairs on the building started. It always messes things up,” she chided, coming to a stop just at the stoop. “George, this is my apprentice, Reagan Hunt.”

I offered a hand and a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

He took my hand but didn’t shake it, instead bending over it in the gentlemanly way of a bygone era. “A pleasure, Ms. Hunt. I do mean that in every sense. We run your master quite ragged with all of our demands. Ciarán, welcome. Please, come in.”

We came in through the kitchen. It looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 1930s, which made sense, as it had become a museum at that point. The iron cookstove still sat along one wall, the thin, narrow floorboards were polished to a dark shine, the walls painted a light mint green. Golden polished woodwork ran throughout the room, and when we passed through the kitchen and into the next room—what was set up as a formal sitting room—it only became more interesting to look at. Even the china cabinet and the dishes and furniture were all of that era and perfectly well-kept. It was quite stunning, really.

Sitting on the different antique chairs was no doubt the rest of George’s family. The mother and daughters wore modern dresses, yet they looked as if they’d stepped out of the late 1800s. It was something about their carriage, the artful way they wore makeup and pearls and heels even at this time of night. I felt a little grungy in my jeans and tennis shoes in comparison.

“You must be Reagan,” Mrs. Flavel greeted me, coming forward with arms outstretched. She took both my hands in a gentle squeeze, her sharp features lighting up and softening under a smile. “I’m very pleased to meet you. I’m Mary Christina. These are my daughters, Katie and Nellie.”

I returned the smile. “Nice to meet all of you.”

“Ayame-san is around here somewhere,” Mary Christina said to both Zoya and I. “She’s quite upset. The basement area is hers, and it’s been very disrupted with all the work. George did tell you it’s a plumbing issue they’re fixing?”

“Yes, he did,” Zoya answered.

First I’d heard about it, but whatever. “How bad is it?”

“Bad, I’m afraid,” George answered with a sigh. “When the house was built, cast iron or copper was used for pipes. The house has a bit of both. They’ve rusted clean out, and now they’re having to dig up the lines and replace everything, keep it from destroying the whole house with water damage. Right bother, if you ask me. Still, has to be done. It’s just put us in a bind; we can’t approach the left side of the house at all, and that big fir out front? Well, it’s watered because of the underground stream coming in from the back yard. They’ve tripped right into it digging out the line, and they’ve cut off all access. Our Phoebe is fit to be tied.”

I assumed her to be the dryad.

Zoya beckoned me to follow her as she went up the stairs. “Let’s see if we can’t re-route the ward for now, away from the work areas. I know it won’t be convenient, but at least it will be up and intact. They’re not going through the entire house, are they?”

“No, problem seems to be the left side and main floor of the house, mainly,” Mary Christina said as we all trooped upstairs. “Of course, that ties into the basement as well.”

“Can you function if you only have access to the second story, kitchen, and sitting room?”

“Of course. I don’t imagine the repairs will take another two weeks or so. We’re just paranoid about the ward failing, what with how they’re digging into it.”

I understood wards were tied into the structure of a building. By opening walls and floors as they’d done, the wards had been damaged automatically. It was part and parcel of barriers, or so I’d been told, but seeing it in practice made it clear just how much people really needed magicians around on a daily basis to step in and circumvent problems like this one.

For the most part, I just watched and listened as we went around, marking the new boundaries for the temporary ward, then went back outside to settle the ward over the house. Zoya called the zashiki-warashi out of hiding and requested her help in finding another water source for the big evergreen.

Ayame-san was a delicate, petite creature with long dark hair falling straight to her waist and dressed in a perfectly white kimono. She kept a wide sleeve over the bottom half of her mouth as she spoke in a soft voice, but she accurately pinpointed another small stream underground with no trouble. Zoya vanished the dirt over that area so she could see what she was doing, then created glass piping to redirect water to the tree. Without a blink of an eye, she returned the grass exactly as it had been—like she hadn’t disturbed the soil at all.

I would learn how to do that, even if it killed me.

“What lovely, clean water,” a voice sighed from the tree. A figure stepped out, and while clearly female, her body was formed all of bark and wood, the tiny branches and fir of the evergreen making up her hair. She regarded us through peaceful, dark, liquid eyes. “You bless me, Zoya.”

“I bless everyone from your whining,” Zoya corrected, but she grinned as she teased. “Will that hold you for a while? I’ll come back and sort matters properly when the repairs are done.”

“This is fine,” Phoebe sighed, sounding exactly like the wind as it rustled through the trees. “Your apprentice rested a while within the shade of my branches. She said kind things.”

Come to think of it…in legend, the dryads weren’t normally nice. The sardonic way my master regarded the dryad made me think the legend had a healthy dose of truth to it. “I’m glad,” Zoya drawled. “Well. Good night, everyone. Let me know if I need to make any changes to the ward.”

I waved at the family as we retreated to our parked cars along the street. Zoya leaned in to ask in a confidential tone, “And what did you learn tonight?”

“Beware of trees,” I answered fervently.

Snorting a laugh, she patted me on the shoulder and walked off to her car, whistling something as she went.

The problem with creating things was that I didn’t always get it right on the first try. The other problem with creating things was that if I did get it wrong, I had to un-create it and start over. Creating things came to me fairly easily—even if it sometimes took multiple tries before I got it right—but uncreating things?

I’d rather drill a hole in my head.

Nearly two weeks into my training, that was my homework this lovely Thursday evening. Create something and then promptly uncreate it. Well, easier to say erase it, as that was more accurate to what I was doing. I’d decided to start out simple, something with one level, because anything more complicated ended up with gloop. And Zoya laughing, but mostly gloop.

I sat in the library after dinner and started on the final’s paper I needed for my English class. I’d not even done the reading, so I started there.

Let me just say this: Heart of Darkness? Creeeepy. I lived with mythological creatures who would dismember enemies and cheerfully chuck them into a stewpot, and still. Creepy.

My brain started to shut down so I headed into the kitchen with the intent to get some hot chocolate and stir a teaspoon of coffee into it, maybe get some caffeine rocking through my system. I had just put the kettle on the stove when Klaus appeared out of thin air, a visible pout on his face, his bottom lip pushed out in a comical way. On his narrow face and with his very sharp teeth, it looked even more wrong.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Uh…making myself some hot chocolate-coffee?” Why was I in trouble?

He pointed me sternly toward the island barstool. I meekly sat. Apparently, I had tread on toes by daring to fetch my own snack. Shame on me.

Klaus kept glaring at me from the corner of his eye as he fixed my chocolate-coffee concoction. He even had an apple tart to go with it, because he was a magical being of awesomeness. Sitting them in front of me, he asked with a pointed look at the clock, “Why are you drinking caffeine at 10 p.m.?”

“Time is an illusion. Once you realize that, you can transcend, and live in bliss.” I took a sip from my cup. His expression could be used for the perfect deadpan emoji. More frankly, I admitted, “And I have a ten-page paper due on Monday I haven’t started. Maybe some Imagineer homework as well.”

“Why don’t you get on that?” he suggested snarkily.

I wrinkled my nose at him and took my treat back to the library. Sinking into my favorite armchair, I decided to do the Imagineer homework first. Before my brain really failed me and went kaput. Imagineer magic always demanded more brain power than English papers.

Because my homework was on banishing, I created a thin sheet of white cotton. Simple, easy. Then I steeled myself and carefully imagined it not there, as if I’d never created it in the first place. Instead of a sheet on the polished wood floors, it would be empty flooring instead. “Gone.”

Carefully, I cranked one eyelid open and stared down, because I had a feeling that hadn’t gone according to plan. Almost before I could get one eye open, House started rattling the doors and windows in angry protest. Uh-oh.

“Reagan!” Klaus came barreling around the doorways on quick legs, tone pitched high and worried. “What’s House saying about you destroying the flo—for the love of all the saints.”

Where once lay a nice, white cotton sheet, now rested purple goop. Purple acidic goop, apparently, as it was eating at the varnish of the flooring even as I watched. I winced and sank back guiltily into my chair. “Sorry.”

“Practicing banishing, were you?” Klaus said on a long sigh. “I’ll clean this up. Maybe practice outside from now on?”

Without a leg to stand on, I sighed and capitulated. “Yeah.”

I would get the hang of this. Eventually.

Ever get that feeling you’re being smothered in your sleep?

I woke up in a panic, breat,h a little shaky, to discover something very plastic and yellow right in my face. I literally couldn’t move an inch in any direction, and panic raced through me. What was going on?!

“Reagan?” Nana called to me, sounding amused more than panicked. “Reagan, you in there?”

“Yeah. I, uh, have no idea what this is? Can you move it?”

“No, kiddo, it’s taking up your entire room. It’s a giant blowup duck.”

“It’s WHAT?!” My voice hit screeching cat range.

“Didn’t you create it?”

“Cut me some slack, I did it in my sleep!” I must have, because there was absolutely NO reason why I wanted a giant blowup duck in my room. Or outside my room. Read that as anywhere, okay?

“Reagan,” —Klaus sounded very put out— “We must talk about the ducks.”

I let that roll around in my head a bit. “You mean there’s more than one?”

He sighed gustily. “Yes, there’s more than one, don’t be obtuse.”

“I don’t think she did this intentionally,” Nana said to him in a lower tone. It sounded muffled beyond the duckness. “She wasn’t even sure what this was. Let’s get this thing out of here and free her first.”

“I don’t think poking it is a good idea. Reagan?” Klaus raised his voice again, still sounding cross. “Just banish it.”

“Uhhhh…can I remind you of last night’s attempt at banishing something?”

A flash of purple acidic goo eating through the floor no doubt flashed through his mind. It certainly did mine.

“Oh alright, fine. I’ll find a knife or a pair of scissors or something and we’ll try this the old-fashioned way. Ciarán, what in blue blazes are you doing, you mad pooka?”

“Fear not, fair maiden!” my pooka guardian assured me cheerfully. “I will banish the foul fiend forthwith. En guard, Duck!”

Something ripped audibly through the plastic, followed immediately by a high pitched wheeee as air escaped.

I lay there, still pinned, and I almost didn’t ask, but curiosity got the better of me. “I’m just checking. I mean, I could be wrong, but…did he just stab the duck with a sword?”

“Quite a fine blade, too,” Nana answered, and I swear she was laughing on some internal level.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Ciarán confessed to everyone brightly.

Klaus was the epitome of deadpan. “Really. You always wanted to stab a plastic duck with a broadsword.”

Making a sound like a gameshow host with a buzzer, he corrected, “Go to the rescue of the fair maiden. How is it, Reagan? Can you move yet?”

“Not yet.” I wish I could. I didn’t do so well with the ‘trapped’ feeling. “Maybe a bigger hole?”

“Absolutely! En guard again, Duck!”

This was going to take a while.

With the very rough start of the morning, I escaped to one of my favorite new haunts: FairyDust. The café was just down the street from me, under disguise as a closed hair salon available for rent. I left the house with an impending headache, my pooka bodyguard trailing along behind me in human form, still snickering. Of course he could laugh. He didn’t have to clean up the army of plastic ducks I’d somehow conjured in my sleep.

I mean, really. Five hundred ducks? What on earth had I been dreaming about?!

FairyDust bustled with activity as I stepped through the Door, the wind chime sounding above my head in a general announcement of another customer. The fairies who ran the place zipped around with mugs almost as big as they were, seemingly unbothered by the weight, while the patrons sat about in either plushy armchairs or high stools. It looked like a regular coffee shop and yet didn’t. With all the drying herbs, large glass containers bubbling with different brews along the back wall, and the patrons themselves, it could also look more like a witch’s brewery. I waved at a few faces I recognized, then lined up at the counter to place my order.

Someone cued up behind me and gave a chirped greeting. “Why, hello. Are you Reagan Hunt?”

I turned, then blinked, as this was quite possibly the oddest creature I’d laid sight on yet. She was a light, leafy green color, standing upright on bird legs, and with the general body of a bird, but with human hands instead of wings. Her eyes were also birdlike, set just above a narrow beak that looked more nose than beak. I had no idea which race she belonged to and responded politely, “I am.”

“I’m Patricia Beckham,” she answered with a bob of the head. “I’m to be your principle come next school year.”

Intrigued now, I offered a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

She accepted it, her hand barely large enough to shake mine properly, mouth drawing up in a razor-sharp smile that looked borderline alarming. “And you, Ms. Hunt. I understand you are relatively new to the magical world. How are you settling in?”

“Well, all things considered. I’ve more or less been getting a crash course on both magic and all the magical races at the same time. My brain hasn’t overloaded, but it’s bound to at some point.” I made a face and she gave me a genial smile. “Have you been principal long?”

“Only thirty years or so. Not long.”

I would think that very long, but then, they didn’t have the same sense of time as we humans did. “I’m rather looking forward to going to school with you. Ever since I stumbled into your clan, my old school has been…difficult.”

“Yes,” she said sympathetically, a sad trill overlapping with the words. “I imagine so.”

“Order, please,” the fairy behind the register requested brightly. I say register but it looked like a tree with differently colored and shaped leaves all twining around the bar. It made no sense to me, but then, I didn’t work on fairy logic either.

“Chocolate mint latte with a squirt of luck,” I requested. That was the fun thing about FairyDust. You could order more than just a shot of expresso. Need some extra charisma for a job interview? No problem. Have panda eyes? Get a dash of pick-me-up. Having a rotten day, like when five hundred ducks invaded your house, all in rank and file down the hallways? Get some luck.

Ciarán leaned around me to place his order. “Dish of cream with a shot of aether.”

Principal Beckham surprised me by chirping up, “And I’ll have a honey nectar with a dash of sea foam on the top, thank you, dear. Don’t fret, Reagan, my treat. You must come sit and chat with me for a moment. I’ve never had a former Nix student, or an Imagineer to boot, and I want to understand your background and education better. I can better guide your teachers on how to properly teach you in this upcoming year.”

I ducked my head with a shy smile. “Sure. Thank you, I’d like to chat.”

Ciarán leaned in to murmur in my ear, “Delaying tactic to avoid the ducks?”

I rammed an elbow into his ribs and he ducked away from me, snickering. I swear, he was just like what I imagined an older brother to be. Some days he was sweet. Some days I wanted to murder him. Some days it was a toss-up. If he hadn’t already saved me from the duck, I’d lean toward murder.

I followed my new principal to a corner booth that sat near a window. A thick bar-rail ran along the wall, and she comfortably perched on it, tail feathers ruffling as she settled. Ciarán and I took the stools and settled in for what proved to be an enlightening conversation.

The questions she asked told me I was in for a very different education. Tests? Why would they test you on things? Essays? Wasn’t that what a grimoire was for? I was a magician after all; of course I’d have a grimoire. Classrooms were all well and fine, but wouldn’t practical experience be the better teacher?

I listened to her questions, answered them, and thought to myself that if my new teachers were anything like their principal, then I was going to love my new school.

The last weeks of school both dragged and flew by. Tabitha made a concentrated effort to ignore me at school, which wasn’t too hard. We only had one class together. She made it pretty clear with her actions that she didn’t see how she’d done anything wrong. I was fed up with trying to please her. Maybe a month ago I would have been willing to bend to the breaking point, but I now had people who could fully accept me exactly the way I was. I knew what true friendship looked like.

I wasn’t willing to go back to the lie.

Life outside of school was its own experience. We had to do some remodeling since anything with iron in the house burned both Klaus and Ciarán. Even steel was touch-and-go because it was manufactured with iron. Because neither one of them could touch it, I had to remove everything and then Klaus and I made up the replacements. Fireplace pokers, door handles, window latches, even the stove had to be replaced. I didn’t mind the work, especially as they were much more comfortable in the house afterwards.

The last day of school loomed as I chaffed at the delay. I felt like it sucked up time I could be better using for studying purposes, but at the same time, I did learn some things in class that might be useful later. After school lessons with Zoya threatened to break my brain completely. Four-level objects were harder than they should have been, and by the time I could comfortably conjure at four, she just smiled in silent praise and then immediately demanded I do something with five levels next.

This woman was going to kill me.

I ended the semester with a 3.5 GPA, which was good enough in my opinion. At least I no longer had math classes to deal with. Of course, that meant my training as an Imagineer got bumped up as the next priority, so I spent every morning with Zoya. It was taxing, rewarding, frustrating, mind-boggling, and a few other dozen adjectives.

Five-level conjuring felt much like trying to adhere all of your limbs plus your mouth on a wall at the same time, and then balance there, just like a spider. It felt physically impossible, and I couldn’t imagine what doing six or seven-layer conjuring felt like.

It was no wonder most Imagineers never went above a four-level. Just doing that was hard. Zoya seemed to think I could go beyond that, though. Me starting at a three-level conjure seemed to convince her I could only go upwards from there. It would just take time, apparently, and more time than the month it’d taken me to reach a consistent level four.

That was okay. I was nothing if not determined.

I showed up to Zoya’s house expecting another taxing lesson on my brain, but when I pulled up to the porch, my master was sitting outside, dressed in knee-high boots and a hat, clearly waiting on me. She popped up as I parked, coming directly to the side passenger door. Ciarán rolled down the window and she leaned down to instruct, “We have a job today, devushka.”

A thrill of excitement went through me. “Really? What’s the job?”

“We need to erect some barriers.”

Ciarán shifted to cat form and hopped lightly into the backseat. Zoya gave him a nod of thanks as she opened the door and slid in. I was driving, apparently.

“Astoria Pioneer Cemetery,” Zoya instructed me.

I stayed planted uncertainly. “I have no idea where that is.”

“Just drive back the way you came,” she answered patiently. “I’ll direct you.”

That, I could do. Putting the car into drive, I swung us back around, the gravel crunching under the tires. “So, what’s happening, Mactep?”

“Grave-robbing.” Her words dripped with distaste. “Never a good business, but unfortunately, that cemetery has some…problems buried there.”

“Problems like…?” I prompted, unease stirring in my gut.

“Wendigos.”

Just the word sent a shudder through me. Wendigos were a North American creature—mostly Native American mythology—of a creature that was nothing more than a malevolent monster of destruction. It killed indiscriminately for the joy of it and no other reason, never satisfied, never content. It was like a walking black hole of hunger and rage.

“That sounds about as fun as a barrel full of monkeys with Ebola and I’m going to say a big No Thank You to that.”

Zoya grinned at me, although a grimace quickly chased it. “I’m glad you know what it is, but you see the problem. If a Nix digs one of those things up and breaks the seal of the grave, that’s bad. But if someone magical or supernatural does it? It’s worse.”

I shuddered. ‘Worse’ seemed like the grossest understatement in the history of understatements. “So we’re doing, what? Putting barriers up around the graves we know are going to be a problem?”

“Yes. Best if we could just contain the graveyard itself, but family members come to see loved ones, and we can’t bar their entrance. There are a dozen graves that must be contained. We can leave the rest alone.” As an off-hand addition, she threw in, “And you’ll meet another of our clan magicians today. Hector Underwood.”

I’d only heard this name in passing. Underwood was a hybrid, the only child of a fae mother and a human father, and supposedly the expert on portals. If anything went wonky with people’s Doorways, they called for him. “I thought he was a portal specialist?”

“Yes, but he’s a fair hand at barriers too. Takes him a while to set one up—his ritual is a slow one—but he’s quite capable at them. I want you to learn how to do barriers today and how to work with another magician to form one.”

“So today’s not just a job, but also a lesson. Cool beans. How many layers are barriers?”

“Depends, devushka,” Zoya answered with a shrug. “What are you protecting from? Each layer of a shield is for different purposes.”

Now that just figured. “So the more layers I can do, the more I can protect people?”

“Da. Turn left here.”

I followed instructions as we came back into town. The cemetery sat up a little on the hill, with a clear entrance marked by a wooden gate and a very old wooden fence surrounding the cemetery. The sign read: Astoria Pioneer Cemetery 1865. Now, I wasn’t a history buff or anything, but even I knew the older the cemetery was, the more likely it harbored things people were well off not messing with. Anything older than 1900 seemed a good indication to let matters lie.

I parked and put the emergency brake on, just in case, then hopped out. It was a clear day, for once, warm and pleasant, with a nice hint of a breeze. I scraped my hair up into a ponytail as we moved, wanting it out of my eyes, then popped on sunglasses.

A man I didn’t recognize waited nearby, also wearing sunglasses. He looked bohemian, in loose jazz pants made of a light khaki material, a white wrap-around shirt, long blond hair tied off in a thick tail over one shoulder. As we approached, he lowered his glasses, revealing Kelly green eyes with a smile, and displaying perfect white teeth. He looked gorgeous, in that style of old Hollywood stars, but rumpled, too, as if he’d only made it out of bed ten minutes ago.

“So here’s our rising star. How are you, Reagan?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” I responded, caught a bit off guard at this casual introduction.

Ciarán hopped onto my shoulder, balancing himself perfectly in his cat form before doing the introductions. “Hector Underwood, Reagan Hunt.”

“This your first time working with another magician?” Hector inquired curiously, pushing his sunglasses back onto his nose.

“Yeah.”

“Lucky me. Fortunately, this isn’t hard. Zoya, what have you taught her of barriers?”

“Not much,” Zoya answered, already moving off into the grassy section of the cemetery. “We’ll need to work through the basics with her first. But she can conjure at four-level, sometimes five. It should be fine.”

Shaking his head, Hector fell into step with me and took pity enough to explain, “The reason why Imagineers and magicians normally tag-team is because we have our own specialties in barriers. Imagineers excel in protecting against physical threats, so they normally handle the wards that protect against weapons, natural disasters, and the like. I guess because it’s easier for you to imagine protections against a physical threat. We magicians add the layers of magical protections on top of that. So really, what I need you to do is to lay down the base of the barrier, and then I come in and layer on top of it.”

“That makes sense.” I threw my mind back to the chapter talking about visualizing barriers. It hadn’t covered much, just the basics, but I thought I remembered enough to not make a complete idiot of myself.  “What do I need to protect from here? Physical threat and natural disaster?”

“Just those, yes. No one’s going to attack a grave, just try to rob it. I’ll add a containment on top of it, so that if anything does disturb the dead, it’ll stay properly in its grave, then another barrier on that to encourage anything that wakes up to go to sleep again.”

“Are they actually asleep, or dead?” Ciarán asked.

Hector rolled his eyes behind the shades. “You know what I mean.”

“No, but there’s a difference. Sleeping is nice because you’re not actually dead and you’re not awake, so it’s a win-win situation.”

“It’s like being dead without the commitment,” I agreed, playing along.

Ciarán’s tail beat a happy rhythm against my shoulder. “Right. An open relationship with death.”

“Death with benefits,” I countered, snickering.

“Children,” Zoya scolded over her shoulder, although she fought a smile, I saw it. “Focus. Reagan, this is the first grave. We start here.”

That’d be fine if I knew what in the strawberry cheesecake I was doing.

Putting both hands on my shoulders, and dislodging a protesting Ciarán in the process, she pointed me to a grave in particular. It was flat, unlike the other vertical tombstones, with a large slab of rock sitting on top of the ground. A decorative border of rock outlined the grave, but it was clear to me it had been abandoned for some time. The slab had three huge cracks in it, and weeds and dandelions grew out and around it. The spot looked eerie to me, a sort of grey-white energy seeping out of the ground like mist, the air cold enough to make my skin prickle in goosebumps. I didn’t need to ask to know what was under that slab.

“Why does it say ‘Miller’ on the tombstone?”

“It’s the name of the man who slayed the wendigo,” Zoya answered, hands steady on me, warm in comparison to the air. “You can see its energy?”

“Yeah, you can’t miss that.”

“Remember it. A full wendigo’s power will look different, more powerful, but it’s very similar to this. Now. Picture in your mind a perfect ball of clear energy. Make it so the ball rests half above ground, half below, protecting from all angles. The strongest barrier is a ball.”

That made sense. It was impenetrable that way. I took a good look at the grave and closed my eyes for a moment, keeping the image firmly in my head. I added the ball of clear energy as directed.

As if Zoya could read my mind, she said, “Good. Now tell the energy what it must protect from. Simple directions are best. Protect the grave from all disruptions, for instance. Do not allow tools, hands, or nature to touch the occupant of the grave. Something like that.”

I’d never focused on intention before, just objects. It was a rather different feeling. It was more…ambiguous? I wasn’t sure how to pinpoint the difference. It felt like I crafted air instead of anything solid. I put energy on the first layer, telling it to protect against nature. Nothing should touch the occupant. I stayed on that image for a moment, making sure it was firm in my head, then added another layer to the barrier. This one I imbued with the instruction to not allow any being, no matter tool or hand, to disturb the grave. Then, almost as an afterthought, I expanded a good six inches out and did another layer, this one with the simplest of instructions: protect the other barriers.

“You have it?” Zoya asked, patient and calm.

“Yes.”

“Release it.”

Not knowing what word would be appropriate, I went with, “Shield.”

Opening my eyes gingerly, I looked at it carefully, inspecting my own work. It seemed solid enough, the energy glowing in the morning sun like a prism catching rays of sunlight. I could read the instructions on it clearly, so that was good. My intent came through fine. I looked to my master to see her reaction.

I found her staring at my triple layer barrier with pursed lips. “I didn’t mean for you to do it in open layers like that. Normally shields’ layers are more compact, barely discernable from a distance.”

“Oh.” I stared at my barrier and had to admit there was a good six-inch gap between them.

“Now hang on,” Hector requested. He squatted next to the barrier, chin propped in hand, eyeballing it. “I rather like this. It means I can put my magical protections in between hers, and that’ll make them even stronger. More impenetrable.”

So he liked my thought process? Or he was being nice about it. “You sure? Now that I know what she meant, I can lift this and do it again.”

“Let me work my barriers in between yours first, see how well that works,” he said, still staring at it hard. “I really think this will work out better.”

Maybe he wasn’t being nice about it? I rocked back on my heels and watched curiously as he worked.

Somewhat to my surprise, he didn’t pull a wand out or anything along those lines. He got back to his feet, walked a little around the barrier, still eyeing the grave, then opened his mouth and started singing. He had an incredibly rich voice, deep and powerful, so much so, it lifted the fine hairs on the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. With a voice like that, you could move mountains. I was convinced of this.

He sang words I didn’t recognize, but knew. He sang with compulsion, with elation, with regret, with every emotion a human could experience. Every word, every note, chiseled their way onto my shields, adding lines and lines of power and protection, enforcing them in a way I could barely wrap my head around. For several minutes he sang, the words wrapping all the way down to the bottom of the barrier. At least I assumed so, as I saw the words sink to the ground level and then he kept singing, so he must have gone past my line of sight.

In a long, sustained note, he held it before ending softly and then beamed at me. “That was actually far easier. I like this design of yours, Reagan. Let’s do them all this way.”

I smiled back at him, a bit shyly, my cheeks warm. “How do they say it? All good inventions came from a mistake?”

Zoya snorted. “I do not think that’s how it goes, devushka. But I agree, Hector, that seems stronger than normal. I might adjust my own wards to reflect this pattern.” Her eyes were sharp on me, weighing. “Why did you do them that way?”

“Uhhh…too much Mythbusters?” I answered, not sure what to say. “They did a whole episode on windshields, and how the glass was made to prevent things from flying through it by having multiple layers. I figured, layers are stronger?”

Something about this answer delighted her. She smacked me on the arm, beaming. “Horosho, devushka. Good! This is what I meant. You must apply all you know when you imagineer something. This show, you will introduce me to it.”

I loved that. She wanted to see what’s inspired me, what’s taught me? “I’ve got them all on DVD. We’ll swing by the house after this so you can borrow them.”

Grunting in satisfaction, she agreed, “We will. Now, on to the next grave.”

“We only have eleven more to go,” Hector agreed with a wry smile.

Eleven more, huh. Yeah, this might take a while.

I followed my ears to the outside balcony. I didn’t sit out there often—it held no furniture and the view was all wrong—but I kept hearing voices coming from that direction that intrigued me. And laughter. After a month of living with him, I knew Ciarán’s laughter very well, but was that Klaus with him? And someone else as well, another masculine voice.

Coming up on the third level, I saw the door leading out to the small balcony open. Through it, I caught a glimpse of multiple cushions, a tray settled on the wood, with what looked to be Japanese tri-color dango, sliced up watermelon, oranges, and a collection of white sake bottles. This looked suspiciously like a drinking party.

I wore pajama bottoms and a stretched-out sweater, hardly the right clothes to step outside at this late hour of the evening. Oregon never got as warm as California and it had to be about thirty degrees this close to midnight. Still, curiosity overcame my shivers and I poked my head outside to find Klaus, Ciarán, and Matteo lounging about. Matteo was actually propped up on one elbow, in a red tracksuit. A vampire. In a tracksuit. Yeaaah, okay, I might be in the Twilight Zone.

“Hi?” I greeted as I took them in. Judging from the two sideways bottles, they’d been drinking for a while already.

“Reagan!” Klaus greeted, throwing both hands up into the air, exactly like a giddy toddler. “How are you?”

Oh wow was he sloshed. How incredibly cute. “I’m good, Klaus. I heard laughter, seems like you guys are having fun. What’s the celebration?”

“Moon viewing,” he explained, still chipper as all get out. He pointed a hand toward the full moon overhead, sloshing the alcohol in his cup as he did so, not that he seemed to notice. “Isn’t it pretty?”

I looked to where he pointed and agreed, “It really is. It’s very full. And big. Is this something you guys do often? Moon viewing?”

“Every full moon,” Ciarán answered with a burp. “It’s tradition.” Waving me in closer, he whispered loudly, “Also a very good reason to get drunk.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” I whispered back. It made sense to me they would observe the waxing and waning of the moon. Every pagan religion, every supernatural legend, all of them mentioned the full moon and showed reverence to it. Although I did wonder why they did it the Japanese way. Maybe they’d adopted it because of Mitsuki?

Matteo waved me toward an empty cushion. “Come join us. You can have some too.”

“I’m underage.” But joining them for a minute sounded fun. I snagged one of the folded blankets next to the door as I moved.

“I knew that!” Matteo declared. He put a hand on my shoulder and leaned in, gold eyes not quite focused. “I knew that. I’m not drunk.”

“Uh-huh.” I so did not buy that.

“Vampires, you know vampires? Vampires metabolize—” he carefully pronounced the word and looked smug when he managed it “—alcohol veeeeery quickly. So I’m not drunk.”

Said the drunkard. I gave his hand on my shoulder a squeeze. “How about I help you eat some fruit?”

“That would be lovely,” he agreed with a brilliant smile.

“No, no, you need to be drunk,” Ciarán disagreed, already reaching for the bottle to pour another glass. “We Irish, we have a toast. When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we sleep, we do not sin. When we do not sin, we go to heaven. So, let’s get drunk and go to heaven!”

Klaus and Matteo apparently agreed, as they clinked glasses with him and tossed them down in one go. I eyed the bottles and wondered, what proof were those? I mean, it had to be up there if it could get three supernatural beings this drunk so fast.

“The moon’s so pretty,” Klaus sighed, still staring entranced up at the sky.

“Yeah,” I agreed, also craning my neck to look at it. I wrapped the blanket a little tighter around myself, enjoying the moment to just look at the moon and the constellations. Although it did remind me of a sore point. “I wish they hadn’t kicked Pluto out of the solar system. I’m still mad about that.”

“Oooh!” Ciarán bolted upright, looking infinitely excited. “I’m going to steal Pluto and bring it back here so we can have two moons.”

“Two moons!” Klaus agreed, toasting Ciarán for his brilliance.

“No,” Matteo disagreed, lurching upright. He overcompensated and went the other direction, fetching up against the house instead. He looked puzzled by that but gamely held on to his point anyway. “What about Charon? We could get Charon, too, and then we could have THREE moons for the price of one.”

I had to bite my bottom lip, hard, when all three of them toasted each other. Why, why wasn’t I recording this conversation? “Charon too, huh.”

“Of course.” Matteo pointed a scolding finger at me. “We can’t separate Pluto from its moons.”

“Tragic,” Ciarán agreed with a somber nod.

“We’ll have our moon,” Matteo continued seriously, ticking them off on his fingers, eyes not quite crossing as he did so. “And then the Pluto-moon, and then Pluto’s moons will be Pluto-moon’s moons, and everything will be great! So many moons.”

This logic literally hurt my brain. Not to mention my bottom lip. I had to bite it pretty hard to keep from laughing hysterically. “And how would this affect the werewolves?”

Klaus sighed with a beatific smile on his face. “Same cycle but they can also fly.”

I seriously regretted not bringing my phone out here now. I hoped future conversations would be equally hysterical. “And how does—”

Ciarán burped again, then shifted abruptly into a seal.

I snorted a laugh, unable to contain it. He looked so incredibly cute, a sleek black with a button nose and befuddled eyes, as if he couldn’t begin to understand why he was in seal form. Matteo howled laughing and Klaus, poor Klaus, just looked confused.

Ciarán let out a bark, sounding plaintive, then he moved. I got up, intent on following him, because if he was drunk enough to randomly shift, then I couldn’t really trust that he was in control of his body. Besides, I wanted to see what happened next.

He bounced on his chest, flappers helping him a little as he moved along the hallway inside. Then he let out another loud series of barks. House, for whatever reason, shifted and rumbled. I held on to the wall for balance as it changed the stairs into a ramp leading straight to the bottom. Uh, why?

Ciarán let out something that might have been the equivalent of a seal’s whoop of glee before he tossed himself off the top and on to the ramp, sliding smoothly down until he tumbled and rolled to a stop on the ground floor.

I watched him go, shaking my head. Why. Just, why?

The door to Nana’s room opened and she rolled out, a robe hastily thrown on and a belligerent look on her face. “What is all this commotion?”

Turning, I explained to her in a low tone, “Apparently, on the night of a full moon, our new housemates have a little drinking party. They call it moon viewing. Matteo’s over here too, for some reason. They were on the balcony outside, but Ciarán shifted to seal form—I think mostly accidentally—and he had House turn the stairs into a ramp.”

Nana lost her irritation and grinned down at the base of the stairs. Ciarán kept rolling around as if he were trying to get upright again but was too drunk to manage it. “Oh really.”

“Ciarán!” Matteo stuck his head around the door and called plaintively inside. “Rea, where’s Ciarán?”

“He’s got the stairs turned into a ramp and he slid to the bottom floor,” I called back. “I don’t think he can get back up here without help.”

“He went sliding without me?!” Matteo said in disgust. “That’s it, I’m coming right now. I’m coming over there right now. Ciarán! How dare you go slide without me!”

I loved how that was the real problem, not that Ciarán was too drunk and uncoordinated to get up again.

“Me too!” Klaus said indignantly, staggering inside after Matteo.

“This just gets better and better,” Nana said with glee. She pulled out her phone from a robe pocket. “Rea, slide down to the bottom and get some of the couch cushions in place. We don’t want them to hurt themselves.”

I stayed planted. “Just what are you planning to do with that phone?”

“Home videos,” my grandmother responded, batting her big brown eyes, the very picture of innocence.

“See, you say home videos, and I hear blackmail.”

She hissed at me and shooed me on.

Shaking my head, I slid down the ‘ramp’—which was admittedly a lot of fun—righted Ciarán first, then headed for the couch. He barked at me, tail flapping against the hardwood, apparently relieved to be upright. Or happy I was getting the cushions in place. Who knew? I did not speak seal. I slid the cushions in against the bottom of the ramp, snugly together, and just in time, too.

Klaus and Matteo cheered with the cushions’ placement, promptly slid down, then landed while laughing like loons. Happy, they grabbed Ciarán and hauled him back up—no mean feat with the stairs still a ramp—before doing it again. And again. And again. Nana stayed planted at the top, snickering. I might have helped them a time or two because it was pretty funny.

I hoped those three had fun. I had a feeling they’d regret it in the morning.

Oh boy did they regret it in the morning. I could hear the groaning echoing in the hallway from each of their bedrooms. Matteo was in Ciarán’s room—I could see his dark head buried in his pallet on the floor as I passed. I was awake and up before almost anyone else. I had pity for them, turning on the coffee maker and making bacon and pancakes, something with lots of starches and grease to help with the hangovers. Klaus came down first, holding his head with both hands as if afraid it would fall off. He took in the sight of breakfast and for once didn’t chew me out for being domestic. He just grunted and took the potion hangover cure I offered him before slouching into the chair at the head of the table.

Matteo came in next, wincing at every shaft of sunlight. He had my dark purple comforter draped over his head like a shroud, and he sat at the far end of the table, putting as much distance between himself and the windows as he could. He must have planned ahead, as there was a blood bag for him in the fridge. I went and fetched it, offering it to him, and he took it with a whimper of thanks.

Not two minutes later, Ciarán eased down the stairs. I’d never seen my pooka friend so pale as to be nearly see-through before. Or move so gingerly. He acted like it wasn’t just his head that could fall off, but any part of his body. Considering he’d shifted forms at least a dozen times last night, I couldn’t say I was surprised. Ciarán eased into a chair next to Klaus and latched onto the coffee mug I handed him with something resembling a death grip.

Nana rolled in, parked herself, and enjoyed the show with a particularly evil grin. Seriously, this woman. She’d filmed them until her battery died. I didn’t even want to know how she’d use it later.

“What’s for breakfast, Reagan?” she asked me cheerfully. “Oh, lucky me. Pancakes.”

“Not so loud,” Klaus whimpered pathetically, covering his ears with both hands.

“Potion hasn’t kicked in yet, huh.” I topped off his coffee before filling Nana’s mug. “How much of last night do you guys remember?”

“Too much,” Matteo whispered hoarsely.

At the same time, Ciarán admitted, “Not much.”

As if reminded, Klaus lifted his head to glare blearily at Ciarán. “You ate a vase.”

“Honestly, at this point, me eating a small vase is the least of my problems. Why is there paint in my pockets? I know why I had coffee beans in there, but why paint?”

“Oh, I filmed the whole thing last night,” Nana informed him, still evil in her cheerfulness. “I’ll set it up on the big screen so you can watch it later.”

Ciarán, Klaus, and Matteo all looked at me for some reason. “You let her film us?” Klaus demanded plaintively.

I snorted. “I love how you think I have any control over her. Eat up, gentlemen. The good news is, I know how to bribe her.”

Staring warily at my Nana, Ciarán dared to ask what all three were thinking. “What’s the bad news?”

“You’ll have to bribe her.”

Nana just cackled.

Eventually, they sobered up enough to where showering wouldn’t feel like torture. All three dragged themselves upstairs, leaving me to clean up the kitchen. I felt it better to do dishes at the moment. Klaus was not his usual coordinated self, after all.

Nana stayed to help me dry things. As we worked, she mentioned to me, “It’s really a shame your parents couldn’t have been here last night to have seen all the shenanigans.”

I paused with my hands in soapy water, giving her an odd look. “My very practical, straight-laced parents? Here? Watching three supernats get drunk off their rockers and slide down the staircase like children? Yeah, I totally can’t see that happening.”

“There was a time when they knew how to have fun with life,” Nana said wistfully, her eyes lost to memory. “Your father especially. When he was a child, he loved the fairytales and bedtime stories I told him. The Chronicles of Narnia you grew up with was originally his.”

That was news to me. “Really? But he’s so….”

“He found a different mystery to pour his attention into. The magic and allure of the past. It didn’t leave him room for anything else.”

Not even me? I didn’t dare ask it, although I had a feeling the words said themselves. I couldn’t reconcile this image she painted of my father with the man I knew. But I barely knew the man, really. I saw him so rarely, even while growing up. Honestly, my parents saw each other so infrequently I was amazed they’d stayed married to each other. Or maybe they’d stayed married because they didn’t see each other often? I could never quite figure that one out. I suppose the biggest miracle of all was that they’d had me. I didn’t for one minute think they’d planned to have me. I was quite clearly a mistake.

Shaking my head, I went back to washing the dishes. “But what makes you think Mom would have been open to magic?”

“Oh, she loves a good story. When she and your father first got married, that’s what she would do for me every Mother’s Day, birthday, and Christmas. She’d take me to a play or a ballet performance. It was our girls’ day out. And whenever she came back in to the country, she always brought me a collection of stories from wherever she’d been. It wasn’t until you were about eleven she stopped doing all of that. I’m sure it’s because my health wouldn’t let me go out in public easily anymore.”

That, and she’d stopped really coming back to the United States for any stretch of time. I listened to her but it grated, that Nana had more outings and memories with my mother than I did. I tried to shake off the feeling; it wasn’t a happy one. “So you think if they’d been here, they might have enjoyed it all too?”

“Well, not now. They’re too lost to the pragmatism of the world now. It’s a very sad thing. I hope, Reagan, you won’t follow in their footsteps and lose your wonder of the world.”

“Fat chance,” I returned, drying off one hand enough so I could hug her around the shoulders. I could tell from her expression this really worried her. “In order to follow their example, they’d have to be around to set one. And besides, I’m surrounded by incredible, magical things on a regular basis now. I can’t imagine getting immune to it.”

She smiled up at me, and if her smile was tinged with sadness, that was a secret between us.

Training to be an Imagineer, when examined on a first pass, seemed really easy. Then you started digging into it and realized you had, in fact, gotten in waaaaay over your head. By the end of June, I constantly kicked myself for underestimating the work so badly, but I now had a better grasp of what I didn’t know. If that made sense.

My days were spent either doing one of two things: practicing conjuring, or studying so I could improve my conjuring. Being an Imagineer meant paying attention to the minutiae. The more I could retain of the details, the better my conjuring.

Zoya always gave me Sundays off to rest my poor abused brain, and I took full advantage. A little too much, actually. I’d stayed up later than usual to catch up on all the anime I’d missed. I stumbled around the next morning, more than a little sleep deprived as I drove to Zoya and Ivan’s house. I arrived with a yawn threatening to split my face. Ivan was nowhere to be found, and unlike every other time I’d been to the cottage, Zoya was in the living room instead of out back. She sat on the edge of the couch, watching something on the TV that looked like a live stream of an archaeological dig in a lush, forested area.

As the door opened, she looked up and grunted in satisfaction, waving me to her. “You’re finally here.”

Dropping my messenger bag on the coffee table, I stared at the image on the screen carefully as I came around to sit next to her. “Is that…I mean that looks like the depictions of the old platforms to the portal highway system in my Imagineer history book.”

Zoya practically beamed at me. “You remember that? I’m glad you paid attention.”

“That’s seriously what it is?” I asked incredulously, dropping onto the couch.

“Da,” she confirmed, eyes drawn to the screen once more. “It’s an amazing find. We thought all of them either destroyed or lost. No one’s seen a portal platform in at least a century, not since the first great war.”

Holy…that long? I regarded the image more carefully. It looked incredibly old—green moss and vines curled around the outer edges, although the main section seemed intact. It was a thick platform, probably four feet tall, with a wide ramp leading up to it. Thick, rectangular columns formed the corners of the platform. Each side of the columns sported engraved symbols, worn down through exposure to the elements and time itself, although still discernable even across a camera lens. A gravel walkway led up to it but there was nothing else around the platform.

I would have claimed it to be Roman architecture, just because of the columns and the general structure, except it was obviously not in the right area of the world. It looked like it stood in a jungle. “Mactep, where are they?”

“Brazil, along the Amazon River.” She flashed me an excited smile, as fully enthralled as a child with the promise of ten Christmases.

“Who’s that you’re talking to, Zoya?” a female voice inquired from the TV’s sound bar.

“My apprentice, Reagan Hunt.”

“Oh? Hadn’t heard you got one. Good! Always happy news to hear we have another Imagineer.” A woman stepped into view, a bright smile on her face. Her silky, dark hair trailed over a shoulder from a ponytail, and her white shirt set off her dusky skin and highlighted her bright smile. She looked to be thirty, and pretty. “I’m Thais, Reagan, nice to meet you.”

I found her Brazilian accent charming and smiled back, thrilled to meet another Imagineer. “Nice to meet you. When did you find the platform?”

“About two hours ago. Complete accident, no less. The jungle out here is persistent; it’ll swallow anything whole in a few years if you don’t constantly clear it. We’re out here trying to re-establish a lost road, make things safer to travel. And if you can believe it, a bad storm came through and ripped enough of the jungle back that we caught a glimpse of this. There used to be an established town out here, abandoned a few generations back. As you can see, the platform’s in remarkably good condition. Our ancestors sure knew how to build things to last.”

I nodded in support of this, staring at it over her shoulder. “Is it active?”

“That is what we are trying to determine, devushka.” Zoya’s eyes narrowed as she studied the screen. “James, what do you think?”

“I still can’t get the st—” a slight squeal and choppy sound came through for a moment, and we all waited patiently to see if the connection could somehow be established.

“James Wallace is an Imagineer Historian,” Zoya explained as we waited. “He’s an expert on things like this, as much as one can be with so few records. Imagineers are good at creating things, not so good at recording them. He’s in England at the moment, hence the spotty connection.”

I found it amusing the man in a ‘civilized’ part of the world had connection issues, while the woman in the jungle came through crystal clear. “And how do you and Thais know each other?”

“My master and Zoya trained together as girls,” Thais answered with a soft smile at Zoya. “And when my master passed on, she finished my training.”

So I wasn’t Zoya’s first student? I’d gotten that sense, as she never seemed at a loss on what to teach me next. “Very cool.”

James muttered dire implications under his breath as he fought technology. “Bloody blighter can bite me in the—ah, there we go. Everyone hear me fine?”

“We hear you but can’t see you,” Zoya answered.

“Yeah, camera’s a bit of a wash at the moment, sorry ’bout that. But I can see the platform just fine.”

“James, Zoya’s new apprentice has joined us; Reagan Hunt.”

James’s deep voice lifted, intrigued. “Blimey, has she, now?”

“Yeah, I’m here listening in,” I confirmed. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you, Reagan. Brilliant, I do adore hearing of another apprentice; there’re not enough of us Imagineers as it is. Right, let’s get to it, then. Reagan, you take lots of notes; we’re literally making history right now.”

I took the man at his word and quickly pulled out a notebook and pen from my messenger bag.

“This looks to me like one of the later additions to the platforms. Reagan, to catch you up, I’ve found in my studies of the platforms that there were a core thirteen portals to begin with, mostly going to the capitals in Europe. Made sense, I suppose, that was the main hub of humanity for a while. There was another location, a sort of grand central station, added after the original thirteen. From there, they did additions willy-nilly for about two centuries as humanity branched out and started taking over the other continents during the colonization period. This looks like a strange blend of styles to me, like Inca met Rome.”

Truly fascinated, I took notes quickly, my pen flying across the paper, hand threatening to cramp I wrote so fast. “When did they stop making the portals?”

“About fifty years after this one was created, I believe. The portals were used until the turn of the twentieth century, and then were all abruptly shut down. I’m still not sure why, or what caused it, but I do know that they were closed before World War I. Something made them unstable, as some of the platforms were damaged quite severely and knocked things offline, as it were.”

“What about this one, James?” Zoya prompted impatiently. “Is it online?”

“Doesn’t appear to be so, no. A live portal should be glowing from the symbols, and I don’t see any light or magical charge. I know there’s a failsafe to the portals, that if there were no open platforms on the system, none of the portals would activate or let someone through. Not quite sure if that’s the case here, or…Thais, have you touched any of those symbols?”

“No,” Thais denied thoughtfully. She turned to stare at it, a finger lightly touching her chin. “Shall I try?”

“Yes, do, I’m curious what’ll happen.”

I held my breath and watched as Thais ran her hand down the three largest symbols on the nearest column. All three immediately glowed a bright, energetic white.

Zoya hissed in triumph, a sound echoed by all of us. “It’s live.”

“Well, I never. I just about fangirl screamed,” James said breathlessly, sounding as if he were really screaming on some internal level. “I’ve never seen one intact before, and here this one’s active. You know what this means, don’t you? There’s another platform active as well. Thais, I could kiss you.”

Thais threw her head back in a husky laugh. “Don’t you dare, you have cooties. James, I don’t think it wise to just waltz in.”

“Good heavens, no. I know you’re quite ballsy, Thais, but if our predecessors shut their greatest achievement down, they had a well good reason. I don’t want to risk any of us by just blindly jumping in. I vote we shut it down for now, get a drone, come back and send the drone in. Much safer.”

Zoya nodded before he could trot the full thing out. “Da, this is wise. Let’s do that. We have tech, we should use it instead of people. Thais, you can come back safely?”

“Sure, it’s actually not far from the road we’re re-building. I’ll put a barrier over it for now to keep people from messing with it, or heaven forbid, actually entering it. Because you know someone will want to try.”

I nodded in sour agreement. People didn’t always exercise their smarts as they should. “But if we can figure this out, and maybe solve whatever problem forced them to shut it down, then could we theoretically use them again?”

“Wouldn’t that be amazing?” James sighed wistfully. “I’d certainly like to.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourselves,” Zoya warned, although she looked intrigued by the idea too, “but we should study all we can. If nothing else, maybe we can build new portals.”

“There’s that too,” Thais agreed, nodding in support. “If we can figure out how they did it, we can always just make our own. Zoya, I know you’re training Reagan, but how much support can you give on this project?”

“Much. Reagan will be a senior at the magnet school this fall. I can travel with her at least some. This is a good project for her to cut teeth on—it would be a shame to waste it.”

“I figured you’d say that. Then we’ll likely meet in person soon, Reagan.”

I beamed at her, unable to help it. I’d never left the United States in my life, which smarted, since my parents were overseas on a regular basis. I was dying to see the outside world and the idea of doing it while studying something this cool? Mind blowing.

“I really, really look forward to it.”

“We all do,” James assured me, practically cackling like a wicked witch. “Thais, how long will it take for you to get a drone in there?”

“I’d have to go buy one first. Maybe a week? I’ll let you know when I can get my hands on one and get back here.”

“Do that,” Zoya said. “We all want to watch when you go in.”

“Of course you do. I’m running out of battery down here, so I’m going to cut this short. I’ll email you all later when I know what day I can get back here with the drone. Bye!”

The connection abruptly ended, leaving the Skype call hanging with only Zoya’s user profile and James’s up. James looked to be fifty, at least, temples mostly grey, crows’ feet around his blue eyes, and had a wide face with a hint of stubble. At least his profile picture looked that way. Who knew what the man looked like in person. Pictures could be deceiving.

“Reagan,” James inquired, “Do you have a passport?”

“Um, no? It’s still in process, so I should have it soon.”

“Well good. You might need it soon.”

“Seems so,” Zoya agreed with a nod and a glance at me that looked…thoughtful, but also rather sad, for some reason.

I decided not to ask and went with my more immediate thought. “Um, just throwing this out there, but James? Can you set up some sort of Google Docs thing so we can all see each other’s notes on this project? I’d hate to fall behind when you guys are studying the portal system.”

There was a moment of dead silence with figurative crickets chirping.

Should I not have asked that?

“Crikey, this is why I love having the younger generation working with us. Why didn’t I think of that? I was going to bring an external hard drive with me so we could swap data and have backups. But Google Docs would make it instantly available to everyone and keep us from losing the data through some freak accident. That’s genius, Reagan. In fact, you own this. Set it up for us.”

I beamed, pleased my suggestion had gone over well. “Sure! I just need everyone’s emails so I can invite you in and give you permission to edit.”

“I have them,” Zoya assured me. She gave me a wink, a proud smile on her face. “In fact, James, once she’s set this up, upload all your research material there. Better to have it backed up that way, and it will give us a chance to read it too, get caught up, before we dive in.”

“Also a well good thought and I fully intend to do so. If it’s going to take a week at least for Thais to get back down there, and at least a few weeks to get Reagan’s passport, then let’s aim for the last week of July to get down to Brazil and properly study that platform. If we can figure out where it ends up, and safely travel through to the other side, we might be able to find the other platforms connected to it.”

“My thought as well.” Zoya’s lips pursed thoughtfully. “I think the last week of July is doable. I’ll check with Mitsuki-sama and get his permission to go, but I don’t see an issue there. He’ll be quite excited about this discovery. James, who else do you want to invite to work on this project?”

“I thought perhaps Jackson Warren.”

Zoya grunted in approval. “A good choice.” As an aside to me, she explained, “Jackson Warren is an unusual Imagineer. He actually has a degree in engineering. When it comes to anything structural, we call on him. He has a better grasp than most on this sort of thing. But James, you think he’s available?”

“I have no idea but I’m going to at least ask. Since we’re a month out, it might be enough of a head’s up for him to clear his schedule. If nothing else, he can remote in. Although I quite frankly can’t imagine him missing an opportunity like this.”

“Neither can I. Alright, go ask him. I’ll start getting permissions set up here.”

“Keep me updated. Hope to meet you soon, Reagan!”

“Me too. I’ll get the Google Doc up and running by tonight.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for the email. Cheers, mates.”

His connection ended, and with that, the call ended as well. I looked to Zoya, not sure what she wanted to do next.

“We speak to Mitsuki-sama about this.”

Mitsuki sat in his usual spot inside the main receiving room of the castle, sipping on his tea and listening intently as Zoya laid out the plan. It was green tea today, a light and refreshing taste, and I drank mine as well.

Zoya paused to wet her throat before ending with, “You know how important this could be to all the magical clans.”

“Yes, I do.” Mitsuki took another sip, clearly thinking hard. I could only guess at some of what he’d have to weigh and factor in if we both left to pursue this problem.

Ciarán and Klaus had explained to me earlier how helpful it would be to have the portal highway system up again. Apparently, there really was no other system to get magical races from one place to another if not by car, plane, train, or boat. For those who could shapeshift to a humanoid form, or the ones who could maintain a glamour as one, it didn’t pose much of a problem. But those who couldn’t, had to hoof it, and that came with many risks and dangers. Especially for those in war-torn countries, where they had no choice but to run for their lives, it was incredibly dangerous. A safe system of portal highways would give them a higher chance of survival and a way to retreat to somewhere safer.

For their sakes, I’d love to figure this out. Not to mention it would be really, really cool.

“I cannot selfishly deny you,” Mitsuki finally stated. “You’re quite correct, Zoya, it would be incredible to have that system back in place. Especially as we are experiencing some…trouble.”

I remembered Klaus and Ciarán talking of losing connection with one of the clans in the Brazilian Highlands. Clearing my throat, I asked hesitantly, “Like the one in Brazil?”

“Yes, that one,” he agreed, seemingly unsurprised I’d heard about it. “But more urgently, another in Finland. Pendragon Clan first reported the problem. They expected to have a Skype conference with the clans in that country, only to have connection issues. We’ve now tried repeatedly to reach them for several weeks without any response. A druid by the name of Eoin Gallaghar used plane-walking in order to go check up on them. He, too, has been out of communication for three days.”

Zoya hissed in a breath, alarmed. “Very little can get the drop on a druid. I don’t like the sound of this, Mitsuki-sama.”

“None of us do,” he responded unhappily. “We are worried. But there is no good way to reach them without the platforms. You understand our keen interest, now. We want these up and running quickly if we can manage it. I do not know what has happened, but if there is a chance to send in a rescue, safely? Then we must take it. If we’d had the portals available to us when the great earthquake hit, I feel like I would not have lost so many of my Night Parade.”

Zoya nodded in grim understanding. “We’ll get on it as soon as possible. I’ll take Reagan with me, of course.”

“Of course,” he assured both of us with a genteel smile at me. “You are excited to study this, I can tell. I won’t deny you the privilege, nor the experience. This will be in good stead for both you and the clan in the future.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d held. “Thank you, Mitsuki-sama.”

He waved this away. “I have selfish reasons for seeing you go. You have your grandmother’s permission?”

“Yeah, she’s really excited for me too. We’re only waiting on my passport.”

“Excellent. Keep me abreast of your discoveries. I’m anxious for your success.” Mitsuki regarded Ciarán for a moment. “You’ll travel with her, I assume?”

“Of course. And I don’t mean to sound arrogant saying so, but I believe I, alone, will suffice. We’ll be in the company of multiple Imagineers, after all,” Ciarán observed.

Mitsuki grinned, revealing sharp, canine teeth. “Yes, quite. I’m not sure if it’s even necessary for you to go, although I certainly won’t stop you.”

“I love to travel, it’s no hardship for me to go.” Ciarán reached out and hugged me briefly around the shoulders. “Besides, she’s like my little sister at this point. I wouldn’t dream of her having an adventure without me.”

My cheeks warmed under this and I couldn’t quite look at him for a second. I adored Ciarán, but part of me always remembered he’d been assigned as my bodyguard. I knew he liked me, but hearing that he had genuine affection for me too, well…that sort of thing could go straight to a girl’s head.

Mitsuki and Zoya just looked at him with indulgent expressions. They didn’t even seem surprised. Then again, the pooka routinely sat on my shoulder in cat form, like a feline parrot, so maybe to them it was obvious.

“You all have permission to go,” Mitsuki concluded, holding his tea cup with both hands. “But keep me abreast of things. I’m sure you’ll only start in Brazil and will continue to Finland—assuming you can trace the other platforms still intact.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’ll be the case.” Slapping her knees, Zoya pushed off the ground and stood. “Well, we have a lot to do to prepare. Reagan, let’s get back to the house. We need to cover more barrier types. If you’re going into the Amazon jungle, it’s best you know how to throw up personal shields.”

Considering Brazil not only had their own folklore, but had adopted several other countries’ as well? And that I’d be likely running into all of them? Yeah, personal shields sounded like a great idea.

Of course, by the end of the day, my head felt like it would just roll off my shoulders. Zoya really didn’t know how to do things by half-measures, and she didn’t let up until she was absolutely, one-hundred-and-twenty percent sure you had a concept down and could duplicate it in your sleep.

Ciarán had pity and drove us back home, as the concept of focusing enough to drive actually made me whimper. He gave me a few concerned glances as we hit the 202. “You okay?”

“My brain’s trying to decide between implosion and explosion,” I informed him tiredly, listing sideways in my seat. “Once it makes a decision, I’ll let you know.”

“Ahh.” He gave me a sympathetic pat on the arm. “Dinner and a good night’s sleep will restore you. I know she pushed you hard today, but I’m glad for it. We’ve had some…strange things happen recently.”

I trained so much during the day that a lot of the clan’s news sort of went over my head. “I’m roadkill on the information highway, remember? What’s happened?”

“Well, you know that series of grave-robbing happening at the old cemetery?”

“Yeah…?” I trailed off, not liking where this was going. “Wait, that still hasn’t let up?”

“The graves you put barriers around are still untouched,” he assured me. “But the others are being disturbed. The grave robbers haven’t been caught yet. We might need to go into the other cemeteries in town and put them under protections too, although we’ll need to be selective in how we approach them.”

Opening my mouth, I almost responded, then thought better of it and closed it with a snap. I knew in situations like this, the magical community walked a fine line. We could only do so much without exposing ourselves. Could we catch the guys doing this? Absolutely. We had the manpower and the magical know-how. Could we protect the entire cemetery? Sure. But doing so would infringe on the Nixes’ authority, and that’s where the problems came in. We couldn’t magically solve every problem in the city we lived in. That would raise suspicions, in turn causing more problems, and in the end would cause more harm than good.

As simple as it would be to just magically fix this, the price might be too high.

“The Nixes’ police force will find the ones responsible,” Ciarán reassured me. His eyes stayed focus on the road as we left the 202, taking the turn for home. “But I want you to be aware that there’s still bad men out there. If we go to put in barriers with the other cemeteries, we might run into them, and it’s best to be on guard. If a Nix comes at you, you can protect yourself magically. We have the ability to wipe a man’s memory.”

“But that has a limited range, right? I mean, you can do a few people, but not a large crowd.” I’d had that explained to me very clearly early on. “I’m not really worried, honestly. You’re with me.”

“And I’ll protect you as much as I can. But if I can’t respond for some reason, or if you feel like you can protect both of us by throwing up a barrier, I want you to. I don’t want you to hold back for fear of exposure.”

That was good to know. I still wasn’t entirely clear on stuff like this, and I appreciated the clarification. “Okay. Is it just the grave robbers you’re worried about?”

“Well, there’re always things happening. And there’s stray incubus who might want to latch onto you because you’re cute. I just want you to be aware there’re still dangers in town you need to be on guard against.”

“Aww, thanks, Ciarán.” I found it funny he thought I was so cute. But I didn’t just take the compliment at face value. I took the warning to heart as well. I’d actually been so focused on the possible magical dangers in this area that I’d almost forgotten the other dangers I’d grown up with. I mean, the threat of knives and guns just didn’t have the same impact as before. I could protect myself against stuff like that without breaking a sweat. It didn’t hold the same fear as before. Funny, how the mind adapted. My phone rang in my pocket and I pulled it out to answer it. “Hi, Nana.”

“Hi, honey. What did Mitsuki-sama say?”

“We are cleared to launch,” I informed her happily. “Now I just have to figure out what to pack for the trip. I have no idea what to wear to a jungle.”

“I have an idea, but I’m sure the rules have changed some since I was last in a jungle. We’ll look it up. I do have a list of vaccinations you’ll need before you can leave. You just need to schedule it. Walgreens will do it.”

The drugstore was actually on our way home, so I responded, “Let me swing by and get that scheduled, then.”

“See you at home. Bye.”

“Bye.” To Ciarán I requested, “Walgreens, please.”

“As the princess commands.” He shot me a wink while slowing, ready to make a left turn to head toward the drugstore.

“Ciarán, riddle me something.” I paused to formulate the question better. “I assume we’re not the only magical clan in existence. I mean, other clans have been mentioned to me. Assuming we can get some of the portal highway system up and running, enough to explore the other platforms, then that means I’ll be running into other clans’ territories, right?”

“Right,” he confirmed with an easy nod. “Hence why Zoya had to get permission first. Mitsuki-sama will contact each clan’s head for us as we explore, gaining permission for us to work in their territory. He’s likely even now updating the other clan heads in the world of our discovery and our intention to revive the highways.”

“No one’s going to give us grief over this?”

Snorting, Ciarán drawled, “Only if they’re dictators or insane. There might be a few who won’t allow you, and for those few, you just don’t activate their platforms and leave them cut off. But the rest? It’ll be fine. They’ll likely be ecstatic about this. Something you must understand, though, Reagan. Imagineers are…how do I put this…they’re like Switzerland. Even though you belong to a clan, you’re neutral. If another clan asks you for help, we expect you to give it, unless it directly harms someone else in the process. Part of the reason why Imagineers were granted permission throughout the world to create the highway system in the first place was because they’re politically neutral. That, and they were the only magicians who had the know-how of how to pull it off.”

That made a lot of sense and some of the things people had mentioned to me fell into place, forming a more complete overall picture. “You know, when I first awakened as an Imagineer, I didn’t really understand why all of you were so excited to have me, and why you were so protective of me so quickly. But the more I learn about Imagineers and their place in the world, the more it makes sense. We do a lot.”

Nodding agreement, he pulled into the Walgreens parking lot. “You really, really do. It’s also the reason why we’re so quick to rally in support. Because you do so much, we feel like we need to help you.”

“Trust me, I’ll take all the help I can get.” Pulling my wallet out of my bag, I stuffed it in a back pocket as I got out of the car. “Okay, let’s get this done.”

The process of requesting immunizations wasn’t difficult. They didn’t carry everything I needed in stock, hence the request, but I made an appointment for next week to come and get them done. Nana would need to come with me to sign off, as I was still a minor, but still. No big. I decided to browse the store, pick up a few things I needed, as some things a girl just can’t ask a man to buy for her.

I had my basket in hand when a horrible screech of tortured metal sounded outside, followed by terrified screams. Dropping it, I sprinted for the wide windows wrapped half-around the front of the building, adrenaline spiking in a rush. What was going on?!

Ciarán appeared at my side out of thin air. I didn’t look at him, instead staring hard at the street. People were being randomly knocked or thrown aside, hitting cars and buildings with meaty thuds. Sometimes they cried out in pain, other times they lay eerily still. People were turning around, alarmed, not sure what the danger was. The Nixes couldn’t see it, just feel the effects as something magical ran past them. Ciarán’s eyes were keener than mine, as he could see past all of the flying cars and blood splatter, and swore in a tongue I didn’t even recognize.

“Mhac na galla! Some idiot’s freed a wendigo. It’s loose in the street.”

I felt like swearing, myself, but couldn’t think of strong enough words. “We have to stop it!”

“Ye canna defeat it, lass,” Ciarán denied, his Irish side coming out strong in his panic, “It takes a shaman to do it. This is not something an Imagineer can handle.”

“People are dying!” I argued, already heading for the door, although I really wasn’t sure what I could do.

“We’ll call it in. He’s heading toward the castle anyway, someone can—” All the blood rushed out of Ciarán’s face, turning him deathly white. “Magairlean.”

He had a good grip on my arm, keeping me in place, and I struggled against him even as I demanded, “WHAT?!”

“The wards,” he whispered, truly looking like someone had walked across his grave. “The wards on the castle are down today. They were going to re-do them, add in another layer of protection, but they’re not due to be up again until tomorrow. The castle’s unprotected.”

The realization hit me like a strong blow to the diaphragm. Anyone and everyone in the clan would be heading for the castle for protection. Only there was no protection to be had. And the poor Nixes wouldn’t stand a chance. They didn’t even know to duck and cover.

I might not have a prayer of defeating a wendigo—not at my current level of training and not without a shaman—but I could defend a place. I knew, at least in theory, how to do that. “Ciarán, get me there.”

He let go, darting out of the doors in order to transform, his body shifting fluidly into that of a strong, prancing black stallion. I had the vague thought that Nixes shouldn’t see this transformation, but now really wasn’t the time to be picky. We’d handle the fallout of this later. He truly looked stunning, and I wished I had time to admire him, but this was not the moment for that. He bent a knee, giving me some help, and I tangled both hands into his mane as I kicked up strongly from the ground, swinging my way onto his back. I’d only ridden maybe five times in my life, but I remembered the basics, and I held on with my legs clamped to his sides as he darted out of the parking lot.

A pooka in stallion form could race the wind itself. He had me across the street in a blink, and I barely had time to catch my breath before we were in sight of the castle. His mane whipped my face, stinging my eyes, but I didn’t care about any of that. We just had to beat the wendigo. That was my sole focus.

We passed Nixes on the street, and they jumped out of the way of a charging stallion, either swearing or yelling after me as we passed them. I ignored those. The yells, the crashes and cries of pain coming from further up the street as the wendigo tore down it, drew my attention. I could hear it when the wendigo hit people, or cars, or whatever else was in its path. It was ghastly, like I was riding along the edges of a battlefield. The screams…the pleas for help, the confusion, it all battered against my ears as Ciarán sprinted ahead of the carnage.

As we approached the castle, the people gathered near the front gates screamed in warning, pointing behind me. Not everyone was inside the walls, and they were crammed together, trying to quickly get through. Although really, the walls would offer nothing in protection, not if the tales of wendigos could be believed, and I couldn’t discount any of them right now.

I dared a glance over my shoulder and felt ice flood my veins. The wendigo had caught our flight, or maybe he really was heading our direction, as he ran hot on our tail. I had maybe a minute before he hit us.

Frantically, I looked around, hoping someone else was here, another magician who could help me raise a barrier. Only panicked faces met my eyes and even worse, most of the usual guardians weren’t here. They’d likely been drawn away, chasing after this brute, not realizing he’d come to them. The only ones here were pixies, kappa, kodamas, atamy, younger werewolves, a few teenage witches, and the like—no one who could help me.

Stonking deities, this really wasn’t good.

I threw myself off Ciarán’s back, as he couldn’t really fight with me clinging to him, and I might need him in a second. To the people crowded up against the walls, I shouted, “GET INSIDE!”

Some were petrified by the wendigo, but others grabbed them and shoved them through the open gates. I turned to face the wendigo. It was monstrous, hideous, like a nightmare. Hooves on its back legs, paws on its front, it was arched along its spine in a distorted manner, a deer head and antlers swinging back and forth that impaled anything within range. He looked skeletal along his ribcage, eyes burning red with hatred.

Spying us, he slowed for a moment, a lopsided grin revealing cruel teeth, blood dripping from his snout. “Oh look,” he growled in a voice dusty with disuse. “Snacks.”

I really, really didn’t want to. Every instinct I had told me to run. But hearing the crying, the panic, the breathless prayers behind me, knowing I was the only magician on sight who had even a prayer of erecting a barrier in time, I couldn’t just sink to my knees and cry. Tempting though that was, I didn’t have the option.

Gulping hard, I shifted my stance and put myself directly in his path.

He sneered at me, moving slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. “What do you think you’re doing, child?”

“Remembering.” I didn’t have any plan on what to say, my mouth moving on its own accord as I faced him down. Most of me frantically went through options, trying to think of the strongest material I could use to create a barrier large enough to cover the castle. Nothing immediately came to mind, because of course in an emergency my brain wasn’t being helpful. Come on brain. Work with me, here.

With a snort, the wendigo parroted back, “Remembering? What, how to cast a spell?”

“People have forgotten what an Imagineer originally was. Even you’ve forgotten.” I held steady, even though a nervous trickle of sweat dotted the back of my neck, starting to trail down my spine. Still, I kept my chin up, my shoulders square; he didn’t get to know how afraid I was. I kept my poker face firmly on. “We’re the knights. The defenders. These people are family to me. They are mine to defend. Which means you’re not getting past me.”

He scoffed, actually laughed, head thrown back in true enjoyment.

In maybe two seconds, he would charge, and I had to have something up by that point. I couldn’t think of anything to use. Not strong and big. The normal barriers I’d created, or studied, wouldn’t cover an area this large. My hind brain started to panic when the realization slammed through my head: it didn’t have to actually exist in real life. I was an Imagineer. If I could imagine it, then it would exist.

With a lunge, he dove for us, and everyone behind me ducked or ran through the gate, screaming.

To my knowledge, diamond was the hardest material on earth. No one sane made a barrier out of diamond, of all things, but I could imagine it. Or at least something that looked, reacted, and possessed the same hardness as diamond. I got the barrier up in the nick of time, stronger than bullet-proof glass, clear as a windowpane. He slammed against it hard, hard enough I instinctively flinched from the noise, my flight/fight drive kicking in. Heart beating loud enough to sound like a war drum in my ears, I stared at him, mouth dry. Could I hold this? Could I keep him out?

He must have seen the doubt on my face, as an evil smile curled up the corners of his mouth. “You might as well let it down. I’ll get through.”

The crowd behind me shifted, a few whimpering in fear, and it was that, more than anything, that bolstered my nerve.

I was beyond exhausted from all the training this morning, my head pounded with a low-grade headache, and nausea rolled in my gut. Wendigos could get through anything—I remembered that from Klaus’s lessons. Wendigos were impervious to most magic and nothing could thwart them for long. I couldn’t just create a barrier and trust it to do the job. I’d have to create a new one, over and over, to make sure that he didn’t gain any ground. Could I do that? In my already tired state? No, that wasn’t the right attitude. It didn’t matter whether or not I felt like I could create multiple barriers. I had to. Everyone was dead if I didn’t. I felt a supportive hand on my shoulder for a moment, knew that despite my craziness, Ciarán had my back. That, too, bolstered my nerve.

Swallowing hard, I lifted my chin and stared him straight in the eye. “You won’t.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “You can’t hold this against me.”

“Watch me,” I returned levelly.

Rearing a fist back, he slammed it with full force and power, making the barrier vibrate. My heart jumped with it, nearly straight out of my chest. But the barrier held. It held fast, not even a crack to show for his effort. In fact, it busted his knuckles, and he left streaks of blood behind. Frustrated, he built more power and attacked again, snarling in a loud rumble with rage.

My terror was a nearly physical thing. I could feel the tremor in my limbs, my breath shaky in my lungs, the fear scratching at my nerves. But I couldn’t falter. I. Could. Not. Falter. No matter how badly he scared me, I had to stay firm.

An Imagineer’s true power was will. Our willpower was our strength, our means of conjuring, our magic. If he broke my will, he would get through my barrier like it was Swiss cheese and we’d be screwed. I understood that intellectually, but watching him repeatedly throw himself against the barrier, not more than five feet from me, unnerved me thoroughly. Part of me felt like he’d make it through. My fears whispered it—that much force and magical power, he’d make it through, sooner rather than later.

I’d never faced someone out for my life before. I’d never had to face down someone who screamed for my blood, much less a nightmare creature like this. It was incredibly petrifying, right down to my soul. The very ground shook under my feet, and my soul shook with it. But I couldn’t retreat. If my barrier fell, I had to be right here, ready to remake it. I had to stand here, because the barrier I made wasn’t the defense. I was.

This wouldn’t work. I felt like I’d crawl out of my very skin. I couldn’t keep watching him like this. My nerve would break.

Without thinking of my actions, I jammed my hands into my pockets, coming up with earphones and phone. I pulled up YouTube and went with the most empowering song I could think of: The Hu’s Wolf Totem. Mongolian metal music might seem an odd choice, but it was a fight song and I needed that. Cranking up the volume as loud as it would go, I put the earbuds in both ears, phone in a death grip in my hands, and forced an exhale.

Then I closed my eyes.

It was strange how much we depended on our senses, how much of what we took in affected us. With my ears blocked, my sight covered, I could pretend he didn’t exist. He still beat against the barrier, he likely cursed me while doing it, but I couldn’t detect him. My terror subsided a touch, enough that I could pour all of my focus and attention on just one thing: keeping that barrier steady.

No barrier could withstand repetitive hits from him. Wendigos consumed and destroyed everything in their path, no matter the protections. It was what made them so dangerous. Nothing in the world was strong enough to defend against him long term. I didn’t even try. Instead I re-made the barrier. Made it new. Every fifteen seconds, I made it again from top to bottom, as strong as I had before, in exactly the same place. No part of the castle was unprotected.

The song drew to an end and I hit repeat, carefully looking at nothing but the screen before closing my eyes again. I could feel someone move, standing close enough to press up against my side. The scent of him told me it was Ciarán, but he didn’t try to get my attention. I took it that he was in a defensive position just in case, but I didn’t let myself think past that.

Barrier.

Keep up the barrier.

The song ended again. I hit repeat. The third repetition brought courage because it meant I’d forged the barrier without any real strain for over thirteen minutes. And if he couldn’t get through my barrier, even with all his magic and bravado, then odds were he’d never make it through.

I was winning.

The confidence boost made me smirk, and I let it show, although I kept my eyes closed. Not so bad now, are you, you sad excuse of a rotten carcass?

The song ended. Repeat. Ended. Repeat. I lost track of how many times I hit repeat before Ciarán pulled an earbud out of my ear with a quick yank. “Reagan, help them!”

My eyes snapped open and I realized that while my eyes were closed, people had come to the rescue. Only it wasn’t enough. Any one magician didn’t have enough power to seal him. I recognized Hector in the crowd and internally cheered because fae magic was close enough to Shaman earth magic that the wendigo could be defeated. There were at least four other magicians darting in and around him, although it was hard for me to see faces and get a head count, with the way they were dodging in and around the wendigo. It seemed like Hector was having trouble, as he kept ducking, his song barely started before he lost it.

The wendigo continually swiped at them, keeping them just off balance enough that no one could properly cast anything. Another magician I didn’t know paired with Hector, a spell-type with a wand in hand, but he had trouble casting anything while dodging too. They struggled to keep him contained long enough to hold him still. Two others also tried to cast, only to lose the thread as they were forced to dodge the wendigo’s swipes. They had to hold him in place to cast. I realized the problem immediately, just as I understood the solution.

I forged my barrier for what was (hopefully) the last time, renewing its damaged predecessor, and commanded, “Hold.” Then, lifting a free hand, I formed another barrier, this one smaller and centered around the enemy in front of me. “Form.”

A jail cell made of tungsten bars appeared in thin air over his head and then dropped into place, cementing to the ground as it did so. He caught the bars, raging, head snapping around to glare at me as he snarled out a curse so foul I felt the steam of it even from twenty feet away. I held steady, the song still beating a strong rhythm in my left ear, and met his eyes levelly. He couldn’t break me before. He wouldn’t now. I’d found the courage to look at him and still hold firm.

The magicians quickly linked together, voices raised in a chant I could barely hear over all of the noise around me. Hector’s voice rose above the rest in a clear song that pierced with light from all sides. I didn’t move, I didn’t lower either of the barriers I held, because if the wendigo somehow magically got free of that one, I refused to let anyone here be undefended.

Light magic sharpened like lances on all sides and darted through the bars. He let out a howl of denial as it stabbed through him like a pincushion, but he couldn’t escape it. The narrow confines of the bars gave him no wiggle room. The howl decrescendoed as the magic swallowed him whole, from the inside out, scattering his ashes to the four winds.

For a moment—just a moment—dead silence reigned. I let out the pent-up breath I’d been holding, and with that, the silence broke and a fierce cheer went up. Multiple people crowded around me, giving me hugs from all sides. I grinned and hugged back, banishing both barriers as I did so. For once, they didn’t disappear in a pile of goo, but I didn’t overthink my minor victory. My poor, tired brain thanked me for that. Concentrating that fiercely for an extended time was exhausting. My magic felt depleted from all the use today and I might have a budding migraine. I could use about eighteen hours of sleep. You know what, I could totally go for a light coma right now. Unfortunately, I couldn’t collapse just yet.

People kept exclaiming to each other over my head: “Did you see that? She had her eyes closed the whole time!”

“And the barrier was pulsing, literally beating him back!”

“Did you see his face? He was so mad she was ignoring him, that she wouldn’t even take him seriously enough to pay attention!”

Uh…that wasn’t how that’d worked…. I looked around me, saw their exuberant faces, their obvious pride and glee in me, and wondered: Do I correct them? Or do I just take the street cred and run with it?

Ciarán, at least, knew me well enough to duck in close and whisper in my ear, “Why did you close your eyes and put music on?”

In a breathless whisper, I answered directly in his ear, “He was terrifying. Afraid my nerve would break if I watched what he was doing.”

Ciarán drew back, laughing loudly, then gathered me up in a fierce hug. “Oh, Reagan. You are a treasure. Never change.”

“Glad I amuse you,” I returned, although I didn’t care if he found it amusing, and enjoyed the hug. I needed all the hugs right now. And a hot bath. Maybe a pizza.

Hector pushed through the crowd, saw me, and caught me up in a strong hug, rocking me back and forth. “Reagan, you precious jewel, I have no idea why you’re here but thank you, thank you, thank you.”

I hugged back, laughing. “You’re welcome. I was nearby, saw him tearing up the street, and Ciarán remembered the castle didn’t have the wards up today. I ran straight here. Well, he ran, I just held on for dear life.”

Letting me back down to my toes, he turned to his partner, a wickedly handsome brunette who looked like a twin to Hector in looks, although not in magical ability. Their auras were different. “You see what I mean?”

“If she can face down a wendigo with less than two months’ training, she’ll be a spitfire in three years,” the man agreed promptly and winked at me. Offering a hand, he introduced himself in a lovely, deep voice, “Regis Underwood. Hector’s cousin.”

That explained why they looked alike. I shook his hand in a firm grip. “Nice to meet you. I’m so glad you two came as fast as you did; it was a struggle to hold him at bay.”

“We’d been chasing him since the cemetery,” Hector corrected with a grimace. “We saw the grave robbers lift his tombstone, but weren’t quite fast enough to stop it.”

“Wait, I thought we’d shielded all of those!” I protested.

“Yeah, we did. For the cemeteries in town. This one was out of town. Reggie and I were out there, putting up barriers, but we didn’t get them all done before these idiots beat us to the punch. He got loose. It wasn’t until he ran into you that he held still long enough for us to catch up. Thanks for that. Ah, Mitsuki-sama, did you see what she did?”

“I did,” a voice I knew well agreed, and the crowd parted to let our clan leader all the way through. He wasn’t the usual pristine Mitsuki I knew, looking a little windblown with hair tendrils escaping around his face, kimono slightly askew on his shoulders. Had he raced to get here? “From a distance, unfortunately. You beat me to this foe. Reagan-san, that barrier was entirely yours?”

He sounded a little incredulous and I blushed, shifting a little self-consciously from foot to foot. “Um, yeah, why?”

Those penetrating blue eyes seemed to see right through me. “How long did you hold the barrier?”

I had to think about it. “About thirty minutes?”

“Thirty minutes. Against a wendigo.” Shaking his head, Mitsuki said something softly in his native Japanese I didn’t have a prayer of catching, then said louder for my benefit, “You are indeed a blessing to us, Imagineer. Thank you. I will make sure Zoya-sensei hears of this.”

I felt like this was high praise, coming from him. I grinned back. “Aw, it’s fine, it’s not like I could leave anyone undefended. But maybe I’ll stay until Mactep can come and get some temporary wards up? Just to avoid a repeat of this.”

“A wise suggestion,” Mitsuki admitted sourly. “I thought a day with minimal protections would not unduly put anyone in danger. Clearly, I should not give the world that much credit. Hector-san, Regis-san, if you would stay on hand to help Zoya-sensei do so. And we must start cleanup along the street, adjust memories as necessary.”

“Of course,” the cousins agreed, in near sync with each other.

I did stay, and more than a few people came to personally say thank you, and to ask just what I was listening to. I ended up playing Wolf Totem for several people and they laughed, enjoying the music, sometimes rocking to the beat. I might have accidentally converted most of the clan to Mongolian metal music. Ooops.

Sorry, not sorry.

Zoya arrived in a screech of tires, immediately seeking me out. She grabbed me with her hands, patting me from shoulders down past the thighs, searching me over, then grabbed me in a tight hug and rocked me for a minute. “Reagan, you durachka, do not scare me like that!”

Apparently she’d gotten at least an abbreviated story of what had gone down. I hugged her back, liking this rash of hugs. I swear, I’d gotten more hugs this afternoon than the past five years combined. “I’m okay. And Hector and Regis actually fought it, I just protected the castle.”

Pulling back, she demanded, “Show me what you did.”

I had to ask people to move first, so I could erect the barrier again. My head screamed in protest, but I knew I wouldn’t need to hold it for more than a few minutes, so I ruthlessly told my brain to shut up and cooperate. I could have my pizza and a hot bath after my master got a good look at what I’d done. After creating the barrier so many times, it was easy to put it back in place, and it stood solid and gleaming in the sunset like a jewel. I felt really rather proud of it.

Zoya went straight to it, rapping a set of knuckles on the surface, jaw going slack. Pointing to it, she made an inquiring, incredulous sound in the back of her throat as she looked at me, demanding an answer.

“Yeah, it’s diamond,” I admitted sheepishly. “I couldn’t think of anything harder, and I knew it’d have to be something pretty darn solid to keep a wendigo at bay for any length of time.”

“Diamond,” she repeated incredulously. A grin splitting her face, she threw her head back and laughed. “My dear child, you are precious. Never change.”

“You know, Mactep, you’re the second person to tell me that today.”

She threw an arm around my shoulders and hugged me to her tightly, whispering against the top of my head, “This was brilliant and well-crafted. I’m proud of you. Release it now, and sleep in tomorrow. You’ve earned a rest.”

Tilting my head back, I grinned up at her. I’d rarely had someone tell me they were proud of me, and the praise went straight to my heart. “Thanks, Mactep. You’ll get no argument from me. You need me to stay and help with the cleanup? Ciarán had to transform right outside of Walgreens; I think people saw that.”

She huffed a breath, although her smile didn’t falter, just became more fond. “I have it. Go rest.”

No need to tell me twice. Truth tell, I felt like something the cat dragged in and then hocked up, so the idea of going somewhere and resting sounded fantastic. My head was on the verge of splitting, to the point a lobotomy whispered sweet nothings in my ear. If I had the chance to skimp out on what was likely going to be hours of cleanup, I’d so take it. Shrugging, I turned and hailed Ciarán, not surprised to find him nearby. “Let’s get a pizza and go home.”

“Really?” Falling into step with me, he asked in exasperation, “You save our clan from a massacre, and that’s what you want for a reward? Pizza?”

“With pineapple on top.”

Ciarán was firmly in the camp of no-pineapple-on-pizza and shuddered. “Reagan…” he protested in a near whine.

“Excuse you very much. I have earned that pineapple,” I said firmly, standing my ground.

Rolling his eyes, he gave a great show of huffing and puffing, but I could see the grin lingering on his face. “Alright, fine, I suppose you have. Let’s go order your pizza.”

Linking arms with him, I walked back to the car, leaning against his side rather heavily. I was proud of me. Even with the impending migraine, it couldn’t diminish my joy. This kind of moment didn’t happen often and I basked in it, determined to enjoy it for as long as I could.

I got the Google doc set up and because I couldn’t resist, I named the folder for it Gramarye. Because I was a geek that way and of course knew the original word for grimoire.

Almost as soon as it was up, James added in several other people with view privileges, and then proceeded to upload every record he had of the portal system. A lot of it was scanned images, as the records he had were centuries old. Mostly falling apart, pieced-together pieces of paper. It became my evening reading, although I couldn’t understand most of it. The records were written in every language conceivable.

Klaus and Ciarán became invaluable during my study. They could read most of the languages and were perfectly happy to give me a translation. While I studied with Zoya in the mornings, Ciarán turned his mind and talents to translating, and I read through everything he could give me in the afternoons.

Perhaps three days into this, the obvious occurred to me: I had eyewitnesses.

The span of a youkai’s lifetime, and the lifespan of every other mythical creature on the planet, was longer than a human’s. Often threefold. It would be easy for something to fade out of human memory. This case was a prime example. Because no living human remembered using the portals, and we had spotty records, much of the portals were a mystery.

But the rest of our clan? They were two, three, sometimes as much as six hundred years old. They had to remember more than we knew. Even if they didn’t understand how the system had been built, they’d been there. They’d used it. They knew how it worked, at least, and where some of the platforms were.

James only had three regional maps, covering just Brazil, Germany, and England. Marginally helpful, but wouldn’t it be better to have a world map?

I tucked the thought away, as I had no time to pursue it this morning. We were on the way to Zoya’s once more, but this time with a more fun reason. Thais had acquired a drone and it was time to test if a) the portal could be safely walked through, and b) where it connected. After we tested the platform, I’d ask if anyone had thought to interview the longer-lived members of the clan.

We pulled up in a crunch of gravel to the cute little blue house. I popped out with my notebook and pens in hand, excited to see what happened today. Mitsuki had informed me there were multiple clans in Brazil alone that no one had seen in decades because they were in such remote areas that it took a platform to even reach them. Would this platform let us have contact with them again? Or would it connect to another major city? Either way would be cool, although I hoped for the former.

Ciarán followed me in, just as curious about today’s experiment, and I greeted Ivan with a smile as I bounced through the front door. “Morning, Ivan.”

“Morning, Reagan,” he greeted in return, offering me a mug. “Hot chocolate?”

“You read minds,” I approved, taking it with a purr. This man was seriously the best cook I’d ever met. If he were even fifty years younger, I’d flirt outrageously with him and give Zoya some competition. “Morning, Mactep.”

“Morning.” She sipped at her coffee and looked a little sleepy, hair in a messy bun on top of her head.

Sitting on the couch next to her, I settled in, asking in concern, “You not sleep well last night?”

“I was up late going through the translations. Smart of you to ask your guardians to translate for you. Made things easier on me and Thais as well. We were combing through the records until after midnight.” Zoya gave Ciarán a thankful nod. “It was helpful.”

“Glad to be helpful,” Ciarán returned, accepting another mug from Ivan. “Truly, we’re all very anxious for you to get them back online. Anything we can help with, we’ll do. I think I speak for all the clans when I say that.”

“We’ll need your help,” Zoya answered before taking another sip. “Trust me, we’re far out of our depth at the moment. Ah, here we go.” Leaning forward, she manipulated the mouse sitting on the coffee table and accepted the video call from Thais. “Thais, James, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” they answered in near sync.

“I have Reagan, Ivan, and Ciarán with me.”

“Well good,” James answered, sounding far more chipper than anyone else. Then again, it wasn’t morning where he was. “Reagan, I don’t know who’s providing you with all those translations, but keep uploading them. They’ve saved me quite a lot of time, and some of their translations were more precise than my own efforts.”

“Ciarán is one of my translators,” I informed him with a proud smile at my friend, who winked back at me. “Klaus, my kobold guardian, is the other. Between the two of them, they speak most of the languages we need. Although I haven’t found anyone who speaks old Portuguese yet.”

“I have,” Thais said, her words intertwined with mechanical sounds, the click and snap of metal and plastic. “She’s just rather busy at the moment. She said give her another week to get through a conference, then she’d get to it.”

“Well, look at us, being all resourceful.” James sounded very pleased.

“I do try. Alright, everyone ready? The drone is on.”

“Fire away,” Zoya commanded.

We all leaned in a little to view the screen as the image switched. I wasn’t sure how, but Thais somehow piggy-backed the image of the drone to her computer—oh wait, she was sharing screens with us. Duh, of course. That would be the simplest way to do it. We saw everything she saw through her laptop, following the live stream from the drone’s camera.

It felt more than a little nerve-wracking to sit here and watch, but also exciting. Thais had touched all three symbols on the side of the platform, although the symbol at the top remained dark. I knew from my reading that the symbols were directional, sort of like an address. Each symbol alone connected to a certain place, and then there was the option of choosing two, or three, and it would connect to yet another platform. Klaus explained to me yesterday that each platform had a guide attached to it, explaining where all the platforms were and how to activate the one you needed. One of the first things the Imagineers had done when shutting down the portal system was remove all the guides and maps they could find to prevent people from using it. Which left us in quite the situation, of course, as we had no flippin’ clue where anything led to.

The drone hovered in the air, ready. The platform, from what I could see through its camera, was just that—a platform. It was wide enough for three cars to sit abreast, and made of dark grey stone covered in patches of green moss. It didn’t look at all remarkable, more like some ancient ruins to a building. The drone flew forward, cautiously. Thais wasn’t about to zip through. As it moved, the jungle scene changed and the platform engaged, a tunnel effect stretching out and forming overhead. For a long second it was incredibly dark—absolutely nothing could be seen outside the beam of light shining from the top of the drone. Without it, we wouldn’t have been able to see a thing.

“In the old days,” Ciarán commented rhetorically, “the passage would have been well lit. Every passage had lights running along the base and top of the wall to make sure passengers could see where they were going.”

“Wait,” I interrupted, not quite able to reconcile this with what I’d heard. “I thought the platform just stretched out, like a road, connecting to the next platform. No one mentioned anything about tunnels.”

“Oh.” Ciarán looked as if he’d only just realized he’d failed to mention this before. “I suppose it was common knowledge for us. Yes, the platform connected like a road to another place, but it was always a dark tunnel over us as we moved. The lights were added to help us navigate in the pitch darkness.”

“So the lights must have been separate from the actual portal spell,” Zoya concluded slowly. “Otherwise we’d have light right now.”

“Well, I never. None of my readings suggested that, but then again, we have no information of how anything was constructed. That’s a quite helpful thing to know, though, Ciarán. I’ll make a note of that.”

“The tunnels were never long, either,” Ciarán added thoughtfully. “The longest were the ones connecting to the Hub, and even those trips wouldn’t take more than an hour to walk. It depended on where you were coming from. But in-country trips took a few minutes, at most.”

“So distance crossed also played into it?” James grew more excited. “That actually tells us quite a great deal. What was the longest route you ever took?”

“Probably when I came to America. I had to go through the Hub to do it, of course—there was no way to cross internationally, much less onto another continent, without going through the Hub. I went from Ireland to Portland, Oregon. That took, hmm, a little over an hour of walking? Although I transformed into a horse and had someone put all my belongings on me, then ran for most of it. That time frame’s probably inaccurate for someone who really did walk the whole way.”

“Still, helpful information.”

I let this more or less pass from one ear to another. I was far too invested with the drone’s footage to really pay much attention to anything else. It took another minute, then the drone abruptly entered into a brightly lit area. The drone exited, then paused, panning the area. The portal didn’t face the sea, but we could hear the sound of waves crashing from the drone’s speakers. The area was grassy, with a low, red brick wall lining a paved road, and in the distance rose an entirely modern cityscape.

“Oh. I think I know where it is.” Thais pulled the drone around and backed it up so we could see the platform itself. It was enclosed in a little white building, perhaps eight feet tall, with a mushroom cap roof, a single arched entrance, and a round base to the structure. Beyond it lay the sea—a rather brown-looking sea—with a long stretch of dock going out over the ocean. The dock had buildings on top of it, with red roofs at intervals until it ended with an enclosed glass building. Immensely satisfied, Thais said decisively, “Macapá. It’s in Macapá. Reagan, you’ve never been to Brazil, so I’ll explain. This city is on the edge of the coast, at the mouth of the Amazon river. It’s incredibly hard to get to if you’re coming up from southern Brazil, as there’s only one highway leading in over the river. For years, up until 1960, the only way in was either by boat or to fly. And flying’s a bit difficult; our runway isn’t the longest.”

I appreciated the geography lesson; it helped me visualize things better. Although I’d still pull up a map on my phone in a minute. “So the platform was an obvious choice. There wasn’t a convenient way to reach the city from a southern route anyway.”

“Yes, exactly. We’re just outside Manaus; in fact, this was the original location for the Manaus Clan, so the platform’s connection makes perfect sense. I do wonder what will happen if we choose a different combination, though. I’m pulling the drone back to us. I want to test to see if anything else is still active.”

“Do,” James encouraged.

While she did that, I felt it the right moment to voice my question. “Has anyone asked the magical community to write down their memories of using the portal system?”

I got a lot of blank looks.

Zoya, in a kind tone, assured me, “They know we’re studying this. If they knew something, they’d tell us.”

“No,” Ciarán denied slowly, “she’s right. You should ask. Up until I started translating for her, I thought you had more comprehensive records. I assumed you’d know more than what I remembered, at least, and didn’t see how anything I could tell you would be helpful. Every time the portals are brought up, you always say you have records on it, although spotty, and that you’re studying them. I certainly didn’t think you needed my memory of them.”

James swore on the other side. “Blimey, I hate assumptions. They bite me in the arse every time. Thank you, Reagan, for asking that. You’re entirely right. We should ask. Ciarán, it goes without saying, but be a good chap and jot what you can remember down for us.”

I wasn’t done with my suggestion and piped in, “I want to include a map in our Gramarye folder. I know we only have partial maps, but if we get everyone’s heads together, surely they can remember all of the major ports at least. I can update the map as we go along.”

“Zoya, kiss your apprentice for me.”

My master promptly did so, kissing me firmly on the forehead and hugging me for good measure. “It’s brilliant, Rea. We’ll trust your computer skills to do that for us.”

I grinned at her, more than a little pleased my suggestion had gone over so well. “Happy to help. James, the oldest person I know is Mitsuki-sama. I’ll ask him, okay? And Klaus, as Klaus remembers a crap ton. I swear he’s forgotten more than any of us has ever known. Combined.”

“And I’ll ask my clan members as well. For that matter, I’ll ask all the Imagineers to inquire of their clans and we’ll start compiling their answers. A lot of it will quite likely be repetitive, but the more information we have, the better.”

As we talked, Thais pulled the drone back through, touched the engraved symbols on the column, and they went out at her touch. With those done, she pressed just the top. It didn’t light up and she tried the second by itself. That one did. With a soft whoop, she asked, “Alright, everyone ready for the next round?”

“Be quick,” James requested of her. “The platforms by themselves don’t hold a great deal of power. One of the few things I’m sure about is that we’ll need to power the platform properly before we can use it for any length of time.”

“Oh. Ah, crap, you just had to say that, didn’t you?”

I was confused by Thais’s complaint until I realized the symbol on the platform flickered, no longer a steady, bright red.

“Pull back,” Ciarán warned sharply. “That means the platform doesn’t have enough power to continue.”

Thais immediately pulled the drone back out, and just in time, too. The platform went completely dark not five seconds after she got the drone clear. “Well,” she observed wryly, “that was a short-lived experiment. But we know we have at least two platforms down here still connected.”

“Yes, and that’s incredibly exciting. Alright, I know we’re still three weeks out before we can arrive. Reagan, your passport is in the works?”

“And expedited,” I assured him.

“Well good. Everyone, pull every resource you can. The more information we have before digging into this, the better. Talk to everyone—and I do mean everyone. Thais, we’ll email you our flight itineraries as we get those done.”

“I’ll make sure to meet you all at the airport. Wait, James, did Jackson Warren say if he can come?”

“His response was a lot more excited than that. He’s quite dying to come. He’d be in this call except he’s on a plane right now. He’s flying over to stay with me for a few weeks, help me sort through all the information. I’ve recorded the call for him so he can see things for himself.”

That excited me, too. I loved the idea that I got to work with multiple Imagineers in the near future, and doing it with people who were considered experts in their field? Icing on the cake. I could not wait.

Thais cackled. “I can’t wait to really dig into this. Alright, I’m getting back to work. There’s a lot to be done.”

Remembering a thought, I quickly asked, “Thais? Can you email me a list of sensible clothes to wear in the Amazon jungle?”

“Yeah, sure. I should have thought of that. I’ll email everyone a list of what to bring. Although don’t stress about that too much. You are, after all, an Imagineer.”

Belatedly, I realized I could just create clothes on the spot if I needed to. “Oh. Duh.”

Thais found this funny as she cackled again. “You get used to it. Alright, I’m off. Keep me updated!”

We all said goodbye as she left, then James shortly after. Zoya, a very suspicious twinkle in her eye, informed me, “Your suggestion means you’re not training this morning. We need to interview our clan members as much as possible, get that ball rolling. But you still have your homework.”

“Oh goodie?” I responded doubtfully. What homework?

Getting up, she went to the kitchen table and retrieved a canvas book bag before bringing it back to me and handing it over with a wicked grin on her face. Peeking in, I saw a stack of old books, some of them the oversized, illustrated editions. It was both intriguing and alarming. “Let me guess. Books on all the creatures—magical, dangerous and otherwise—to be found in Brazil?”

“You’re so quick this morning,” she approved, grey eyes twinkling. “Don’t worry. You have a whole three weeks to memorize all eight books.”

My master was evil.

Klaus took my request for writing his memories down with barely a blink. He stopped washing a dish in the sink, hopping off the stool to dry his hands, listening attentively. Head canted, he took everything in, nodding in support. “Yes, of course, it’s a sound suggestion. My father actually used them more than I did. I can ask him, as well, to write everything down that he remembers, if that’ll help?”

See, this was why you asked people stuff. You never knew what they knew. “That’d be awesome, Klaus. I mean, you’ve seen for yourself what little information we have to go on.”

“Yes, and frankly, it worries me.” With a weather eye toward the library, he lowered his voice and asked, “Perhaps your grandmother can help as well? If we have multiple accounts coming in, I’m sure there will be much repetition. Perhaps she can read through the accounts and create a more succinct report of the facts.”

“I mean, that’s totally right up her alley, she’d be great at that, but why are you suggesting it?” My grandmother was a retired professor, for heaven’s sake, I had no doubt she could do a research project like this in her sleep. I just didn’t know why Klaus would recommend her for the job. He never suggested something without good reason, so this suggested a problem. And I hated problems.

“Two reasons, really.” Still with that weather eye toward the library (I had to assume where Nana currently sat), he lowered his voice even further. “She’s bored. She’s also very excited about what you’re doing and wants to be a part of it somehow. I know all of you will be pouring over that information, but….”

“Hey, I’m of the opinion the more eyes on this, the better. If nothing else, it’ll help me. I don’t have the time to read every report coming in. But let me email Mactep and James, see how they feel about this. I’m not the ringmaster, just one of the monkeys.”

“Do so,” he encouraged. “And report to her what happened this morning. She’s dying for an update.”

I was happy to do it. Half the fun of cool things was sharing them. Bouncing back out of the kitchen, I took my books with me, as Nana definitely would want to read those too. Coming in, I found her sitting in my favorite armchair—Klaus must have moved her out of the wheelchair—all propped up and looking cozy. She grinned at me as I came in, and I dropped a kiss on her forehead before sitting on the ottoman. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” she greeted, putting her book immediately aside. “Tell me everything that happened.”

I did, not leaving any details out, and saw what Klaus meant as I spoke. She hung onto every word, almost vicariously living through me. This was a very intelligent, independent woman, her mind still sharp even with her body failing her. She itched for something productive to do. Yeah, no, that was no bueno. Even if no one else agreed, I didn’t see the harm in her helping me, and I decided to go with Klaus’s suggestion.

“Want a research project?”

Her dark brown eyes lit up. “Do I ever, kiddo. What can I help with?”

“So far every person in the clan I’ve asked has been really enthusiastic about writing down their memories of using the highway system. A few of them even remember exactly where the isolated clans are. I’ve promised to help update a map of the platforms as the information comes in—’cause we don’t have a global map at this point—but it’s going to be a lot of letters. Between training and this lovely stack of books I’m supposed to read, I won’t have time to go through all of it. Can you read through each one as it comes, update a sort of bullet point list so I get the gist of it?”

“That sounds like fun,” Nana informed me eagerly. “Do we have some now?”

“Not at this moment, we’re still asking people. Ciarán’s working on his right now, though, so you’ll likely get one from him first. We’ll need to scan every one we get and upload it to the Gramarye folder too.”

She waved this suggestion off as obvious. “Of course, the more information stored there, the better. I’ll be happy to help.”

“We’ve got high priority on both Brazil and Finland right now. We’ve lost contact with a clan from each country.”

Nana’s attention sharpened, her head lifting. “Why?”

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. Mitsuki-sama has requested we figure out the portal systems quickly because they’ve already sent a druid in to check on the Finland clan and he’s gone off-grid too. Everyone’s now super worried, but apparently the clan is so remote it’s brutally difficult to get back in there.”

“Unless you can portal there,” Nana finished thoughtfully, mouth pulling down into a frown. “I see the problem. Do we have any information about the Finland platforms, where they were located?”

“Not a bit,” I denied, making a face. “I only have a regional map of Brazil because James found one. Wanna start with the map for now? I’ve got three regional maps, and I figure if you call out places for me, I can use a world map in photoshop and start marking them off. And we’ll need a legend, of course.”

She pointed authoritatively toward the laptop. “Pull it up. In fact, I want a big world map so I can track this the old-fashioned way. Klaus! I need a big world map!”

Klaus popped in within seconds, already with a pad and pen in his hand. “Just a world map?”

“Maybe one of those sliding cork boards too, the big ones,” Nana added thoughtfully. “And we need a scanner if we’re going to be uploading anything.”

“And a binder with a bunch of sheet protectors too?” I pitched in. “Because I know most of the clan’s going to give us handwritten accounts. We’ll want to store and organize them, just in case.”

He nodded at each suggestion, scribbling them down. “I’ll go fetch them. Call if you think of anything else.”

As he zipped back out of the room, I called after him, “You’re awesome, Klaus!”

He just chuckled, the sound of it floating back to us.

Somewhat rhetorically, I asked my grandmother, “What did we do before we had a Klaus?”

“Suffered,” she answered wryly. “I’m selfishly glad I get to keep him when you leave for Brazil. House is good to me, it’s very helpful, but it can’t do everything. I’m sorry you can’t take him with you, though.”

“I’ll still have Mactep and Ciarán with me,” I reminded her, not bothered by this. “I’ll be fine. Alright, let’s get this ball rolling.”

Nana and I spent a good three days just going through information. She was in her element, happier than a clam in a riverbed, and me? Well, it was educational, to say the least. The reports were slow to come in—people had to find the time to write them, after all, but the map was fun to do. It was rather like a geography and art project rolled into one. James and Jackson both heaped praises on my head for keeping it up-to-date for them.

In a nice turn of events, James agreed to officially bring Nana in on the project. My email to him explained who she was, and that she was eager to help. He sent her an email directly, introducing himself and formally requesting her help. James forthrightly told her, “The clans are so eager to help that we’re soon to be quite inundated with information. Jackson and I don’t have a prayer of keeping up with it. We’re likely to get swept under it, in fact. I’m quite flattered that a woman of your background has volunteered her services. Please, Professor, do help! We need it.”

The next Skype call, I stayed at the house to manage the laptop and have Nana sit with us. James popped up first, with the infamous Jackson Warren sitting at his side. I hadn’t quite expected someone so young. Jackson looked perhaps twenty-five or so. He was tall and lanky in build, with thick brown hair on top with short sides, and a charmingly angular face. He greeted us with a smile and a wave, looking more like a college student who had escaped the classroom in his bulky sweatshirt. “Hi, everyone!”

“Hello yourself,” Zoya greeted. “On the other side of the screen is my apprentice, Reagan, and our new colleague, Professor Hunt. She formerly taught Mythology at CSUB.”

“I’m retired now, and very happy to help.”

“We quite need the help,” James assured her with transparent sincerity. “I’m James, by the way. This is Jackson Warren at my side.”

“Nice to meet you both, gentlemen,” Nana greeted.

“And you. Our clan leader is here as well, he just stepped into the next room.” James turned his head and smiled as a very large, rather scary looking black dog sauntered into the room. “Horus.”

Horus opened his mouth in a pant, his words heavily accented in a Cockney fashion. “I’m right on time, I see.”

“Indeed you are. Everyone, this is Horus, Clan Leader of Pendragon. Horus, this is our young Imagineer, Reagan Hunt, and Professor Hunt. She’s aiding us in our research.”

“Pleasure,” Horus said with a dip of the head.

I could not for the life of me figure out what he was. English mythology had several types of black dogs. Was he the Black Dog of Newgate? The ghost version of the Black Dog? Something else? Even as I smiled back at him, I wrote a quick note to Nana out of the camera’s range—What is he?

Nana took the pen and discreetly wrote, My guess? A barghest.

Oh. Wasn’t that the creature linked with death and funerals? Seemed like an odd choice for a clan leader, but not my clan. Not my business.

James blithely continued, “Thais should be joining us—ah, there she is. Hello, Thais.”

“Hi. Oh hi, I see Professor Hunt is with us too. Hi, Prof!”

“Hi yourself, Thais.” Nana smiled at her. “Alright, seems the gang’s all here. Everyone has our updated version of the map?”

“We do,” Thais confirmed easily. “Bless both you and Reagan for that. It’s been eye opening. I haven’t had a chance to read any of the reports, it’s been too insane here. In fact, I barely got internet back up and running this morning. It’s been out the past two days. Someone catch me up.”

James waved for Nana to do so, and she promptly did, falling into her ‘teacher’s voice’ by default.

“No one knew exactly how the portals worked—the Imagineers who created the system never bothered to explain—but they remember the rules and limitations quite well. Inter-country travel apparently could be done by any platform, as long as you knew which symbols connected with the platform. A plaque on one of the columns listed out each platform location and which symbols to press, along with instructions on what the warning lights meant. Red meant low power and to not attempt travel. Yellow meant the platform was in use. Green meant safe passage.

“Now, for anyone wanting to cross a country’s borders, it was necessary to enter the Hub. People seem to agree that wasn’t the official name of it, but that’s what everyone called it. It seemed to operate much like a Grand Central Station, a place you had to pass through in order to reach the correct platform. But descriptions of it incline me to believe this was rather more like a city more than just a train station. It was vast, included homes, shops, and assorted businesses. Two people have noted that the Hub didn’t exist on this plane at all.”

“Wait,” Thais requested, tone rising incredulously, throwing up a hand. “A different plane?”

“That’s what they reported hearing. I’m not sure if it’s just hearsay or not. But no one seems to know where the Hub was physically located, either, which does make me wonder. The druids live on a different plane with the Tuatha Dé Danann. It could possibly be something of that nature.”

“Or some version of pocket space,” Jackson mused, fingers laced over his stomach as he sat back, lips pursed. “That would make sense. None of the records indicate any sort of physical location for the Hub, after all. And why would it, if it didn’t exist on this plane? There’s several races that excel in creating pocket space, sometimes of truly boggling dimensions. Why not there? The Hub, after all, was supposedly in completely neutral territory. I can’t imagine it would be possible to retain complete neutrality if it were located anywhere on Earth.”

James agreed, “He makes quite a well good point. Professor, was it only those two accounts saying so?”

“So far, at least. Most of the accounts didn’t actually include international travel. It could be a matter of them not knowing for a fact, or not having the right experience to make it worth passing on. I’m certainly keen to get a more accurate account from someone, if it exists.”

“Yes, that’s the question,” Zoya agreed wryly. “Still, it’s no wonder they could close the highway system so easily, if their main center axis of the portals wasn’t even in this plane to begin with. I’m inclined to believe it. Although how we’re supposed to re-discover it when we’re not even sure what plane it’s on, well. That’s going to be a trick.”

“Zoya,” Thais riposted mildly, “you’re not allowed to borrow more trouble for us. We have quite enough as it is. Anything else, Professor?”

“Not at this point, at least not regarding the structure. I’ve had several people promise me detailed accounts, however. I’m waiting on those. I’ve had multiple accounts about why the system was shut down, although sadly none of them seem to agree. There seems to be any number of theories on it. A few people claim the system was knocked askew because of bombs, throwing things so out of alignment they had to be shut down. Then, World War I happened before any of the Imagineers could fix things, destroying even more platforms and making it impossible to repair. I’m inclined to believe there’s some truth to the theory, except for the timeline. The platforms were taken offline a good two years previous to the first world war.”

We all shared a speaking look. Yes, what kind of problem would be so challenging that it would take multiple Imagineers over two years to fix? Our magic was almost instantaneous when it came to fixing problems. What could possibly thwart a dedicated team?

“The more plausible theory,” Nana continued, tapping a finger to the desktop, “is that something happened to the Hub itself. If the tethers of the Hub became unraveled, say, or—”

Jackson sat forward abruptly. “Wait, what do you mean by tethers?”

“This isn’t in any account I’ve read,” Nana warned, sitting a little forward herself, “but that’s how druidic travel worked between planes. They had the planes tethered to specific trees. They’d walk around the trees, acting as if they were climbing a spiral staircase, and ascending into the next plane. I believe they circled seven times, but don’t quote me on that. If the Hub was built along the same lines, then it only makes sense to me that there had to be tethers to tie it to our plane.”

“I mean, you’re absolutely correct,” Jackson assured her absently, chewing on his bottom lip. “But we’ve not a single shred of evidence to support this theory. It’s part of the reason why we doubt the Hub was on a different plane at all. The few records we have about the platforms don’t mention anything about it.”

“But would they?” Thais challenged. “I don’t know why, but the Imagineers of that time were incredibly close-mouthed about the design of the portal highway. They didn’t seem inclined to give out any information about the structure of it.”

“Yes, and that’s not alarming at all.” James rubbed at his eyes with a finger and thumb, pushing up his glasses to do so. “I hesitate to say this, but did they do something stupid? Possibly illegal? Why be so closed-mouthed about the greatest magical construct in the history of the world otherwise?”

“It’s a good question,” Nana acknowledged grimly. “Which is why I encourage all of you to step lightly and keep a wary eye about you. If they did something stupid, and it collapsed on them to such a degree they had to shut it all down? Then it’s going to be quite dangerous to open it back up again.”

“But the portal systems must be fixed,” Horus informed us. His head kept lifting, then coming back down again, as if he were fighting the urge to howl in distress. “We still cannot reach our brother clans. I am quite worried something untoward has happened to them. Our druid friend who went to check on them still has not reported in. Please, go with all speed.”

With everything I needed to do, time passed rather quickly. My brain threatened to melt and drain out of my ears, I taxed it so much between magical training and studying—mostly the studying of all those Brazilian myths. It never quite reached melting point, somehow. Mercy knew how.

The night before we were due to leave, I had a duffel bag open on the bed, both Nana and Klaus helping me pack. Having never packed to go on a trip before, I really had only a limited idea of what to do, so was frankly grateful for the supervision.

Despite it being eighty plus degrees in the Amazon jungle year-round, Thais firmly recommended wearing long sleeves and pants. She’d warned me the vegetation and bugs would eat me alive otherwise. Not only that, but nothing form-fitting, just loose hiking clothes my skin could breathe in. No cottons, as they would take forever to dry out. Synthetic materials only, with mesh and rayon and things of that ilk. Thais also suggested two changes per day, as apparently you sweated like you were in a sauna down there, and I’d need something dry to lounge and sleep in at night.

Sounded pleasant, right? Totally didn’t. And yet, I was giddy with anticipation.

“Layers, layers, layers,” Nana told me even as she threw yet another pair of long socks into my bag. “Don’t leave your ankles showing, even at night. Don’t expose any skin if you can help it. The mosquitos down there are no joke. I was down there once as a student and came back looking like I had chicken pox.”

“Yikes. Didn’t anyone warn you?”

“No one knew better. First trip for us all, including our professor. I understand he packed very differently the second time he went down.” With a judicious eye on the bag, Nana inquired of Klaus, “Can you add some space into this bag? I don’t think it’ll all fit.”

“I don’t think it will either, but doing that doesn’t change the weight,” he warned her. “And she still has to lug this thing.”

“I can always wash or create duplicates,” I assured Nana. “It’s the perk of being an Imagineer, after all. If I don’t have it, I can just make it.”

Hand splayed in an open shrug, she agreed, “True enough. Still, let’s give you the basics as much as we can. Save your brain for when you need it. Poncho?”

“Check.”

“Two pairs of hiking boots?”

“Check.”

“Sunscreen?”

I normally didn’t burn, not with my skin, but I understood the sun was really intense in the jungle. “Yup, in there.”

“Insect repellent?”

“Double check. Why do mosquitos love me so much?”

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Nana responded sympathetically. “They love me too. Make sure to use that stuff often; I don’t want you with either yellow fever or malaria. Alright, sanitizer, wet wipes, soaps, cooling towels?”

“Double check on all…” I trailed off and frowned. “Did I put wet wipes in there?”

Fussing, Klaus tore back into the duffle bag, shifting things to look. “Can you please not put anything in until you’re sure everything’s here?”

Ciarán came in and propped himself up against my doorjamb. “Anything you can’t fit in there, stick it in mine. I can handle the weight. I’m not packing as much as you.”

I looked at him gratefully. “In that case, can you take the first aid kit and the flashlight?”

“Sure, hand them over.”

House politely did a triple tap on the walls, its way of telling us someone was approaching the front door. I was by far the freest person to answer, so I volunteered, “I’ll get it.”

We got visitors more often these days, mostly clan members who came by to give us their accounting of the portal highway. They often stopped and stayed a while, drinking tea and chatting with Nana, which she loved. I expected another clan member as I opened the door.

It was not.

Blinking, I stared at my former friend uncertainly. “Tabitha?”

She stared back at me, just as uncertain, her hand gripping her purse in a death grip that threatened the faux leather. “Hey. I want to talk to you.”

Oh boy. Did I want to talk to her? I won’t lie, I still felt very torn up and conflicted. But part of me was hopeful. If she’d come to me, after so much time had passed, did that mean she was apologetic about how things had gone? I could forgive her with a sincere apology. It’s not like I didn’t see where she’d been coming from. In her shoes, from her perspective, I could admit she’d had a right to be worried. To her eyes, it likely looked like I’d lost my mind. But I didn’t like how she’d handled it and I hated how she’d assumed I had to change in order to stay friends with her.

Part of me was hopeful but…could we renew our friendship? I didn’t know how I possibly could, not with how my life was now. There was so much I had to hide from her.

Still, I felt bad about just saying ‘no.’ Reluctantly, I opened the door a little further and let her in. Usually, in the old days at least, we would go immediately to the library or up to my room. But neither of those were a good idea at the moment. The library had our research project strewn on every surface (bad idea to let her see that), and my room was full of magical creatures and a half-packed duffle bag. I led her into the formal sitting room instead, the place where visitors went.

Tabitha had a sour twist to her mouth as she followed me, looking around her as if I’d brought her into some foul cave. “Really, Rea?”

“Nana has a research project in the library and my room’s a bit chaotic at the moment,” I informed her stiffly. “I’m in the middle of packing. Sit, Tabby.”

“Nana’s here?” She sat, eyes on me curiously. “I thought she couldn’t.”

“We hired a live-in nurse and rearranged stuff. She’s doing fine here.”

“Oh. Well, good for her. And you, I guess. I know you didn’t like being in this empty house. If you’re packing, though, are you moving?”

“Not that sort of packing. I’m going on a trip.”

“Finally joining your parents overseas?”

“No. I’m going to Brazil.” And that was about as much information as I could give her. “Tabby, why are you here?”

Her jaw flexed. “What do you mean, why am I here? Maybe you were okay with just yelling and walking away from me, but I wasn’t. I did that for your own good.”

She somehow didn’t look all that apologetic to me. “Yeah, I know. It’s not your intentions I question, it’s your methods.”

“Okay, so maybe I went about it the wrong way,” —her tone didn’t indicate an nth degree of regret— “but still. I was looking out for you. I don’t deserve this cold shoulder treatment.”

Blowing out a breath, I dropped into an opposite chair and looked away from her. I really didn’t want to deal with this drama of hers. My world had expanded three months ago. I was no longer in the same mindset of doing whatever to please her so I could have a friend.

Ciarán, in black cat form, sauntered down the stairs and lightly hopped up into my lap. He hissed at her, the fur along his spine standing on end, which alarmed Tabby. She jumped and shied away from him, although she didn’t leave her chair. With his point made, he stretched out across my lap, watching her distrustfully. I put a hand on his spine, smoothing the fur back down. Then I kept petting him. Even though I knew he was a man, it didn’t change my instincts. If a cat lay in my lap, it was going to get pet.

“Isn’t that the cat from school?” she asked uncertainly.

“Yeah. When a cat adopts you, you don’t get much say in the matter.” I winked at Ciarán to show I was joking. He winked back, stretching out a little more, a rumbling purr vibrating my thighs.

“Okay, whatever. Can we get back on topic? I want an apology, and to stop with the stupid crap, and go back to being friends.”

I stared at her and wondered, had she always been this antagonistic? Had I been blind to that, or just willing to accommodate her? “I want an apology. I want to stop repeating this stupid conversation. And I don’t know if we can be friends, Tabby, as you clearly don’t think you did anything wrong. I have never been anything but true to myself.”

She bristled like a cat with its tail stepped on. “And maybe your true self is weird.”

I flinched, hurt lancing through me. My hope died a flaming death as anger and resignation flared up. Hearing those words from her dug into my insecurities, and if not for the irate pooka on my lap, I might have believed her. Only, the world wasn’t as she thought, was it? It wasn’t me who was wrong, here. And I resented the implication I had to change to suit her.

“If I’m so weird, why do you want to be friends with me?”

“Because when you’re not being weird, you’re okay to hang out with! And someone needs to rescue you from the weirdness, ’cause clearly no one else will.”

Ciarán started hissing at her again. I felt like hissing myself. “Tabitha Anne Clark, I do not require rescuing. And if that’s what you think of me, that I’m too weird and pitiful, then you can walk right back out that door!”

“I must say I agree,” Nana said from the doorway. She sat in her wheelchair with a steely gaze I recognized. Best to find fortifications and shore up the defenses when Nana got a mad-on. From the white-knuckled grip she had on her wheelchair, this was an epic mad-on. “Tabitha. I’m surprised at you and not at all pleased. Do I need to cover the basics of friendship with you?”

Defensive, Tabitha popped up from her chair to face my grandmother, shaking like a live wire. “My mom says she’s weird too. It’s not just me!”

Nana’s tone stayed cool and sharp, wielding her words like a finely-honed blade. “I’m not asking for your family’s opinion, or for your judgement on Reagan’s actions. I’m asking you: what do you think friendship really is? You’ve betrayed a confidence, but won’t apologize. You demand your friend change her interests and habits in order to suit you. I’ve no doubt it’s not just because you find Reagan’s hobbies strange, but socially embarrassing. Really, Tabitha. You can’t pick and choose which parts of a person you want to keep.”

Tabitha sneered, lip curling up. “You shouldn’t be lecturing me. I’m her only friend, that’s how weird people find her. You should be encouraging her to change.”

“You’re not my only friend,” I corrected her bluntly. “And girl, even if you were, I still wouldn’t change. Lying just to keep your friendship is so not worth it.”

Tabitha rounded on me, eyes spitting fire. “Why am I the bad guy here?”

“I don’t know, Tabitha,” I answered, suddenly weary and fed up with this whole thing. “You need to ask yourself that question. Either way, I’m done. I’m not repeating this conversation with you. Please just go away.”

Her eyes were bright, although whether the unshed tears were from anger or sadness, I could only guess. Whirling, she went straight out the door and slammed it behind her. House flinched in response and grumbled, doors rattling in protest.

“I know, dear,” Nana soothed, patting the nearest patch of wall. “She does have a volatile temper. Reagan, I’m surprised at her.”

“Yeah.” I sank back in the chair, still petting my friend, even though he was too upset to purr back at me. “She wasn’t like this when we first became friends. I think people have been telling her stuff, and I probably did look like I went off the deep end when I first saw the magical world. It’s not that I blame her, it’s just….”

As I trailed off, Ciarán turned his eyes up toward mine, tail flicking against my arm. “Just what, Reagan?”

I stared down at him, my friend who was only my friend because he’d been assigned to me. I knew he liked me, but if not for my magic, would he be here?

Something must have shown on my face, as Nana came in closer, taking one of my hands in a firm grip. Her expression was worried as she pushed, “But what, kiddo?”

It was easier to confide it to her, and I carefully didn’t look at Ciarán as I answered. “I’ve never been enough. No one chooses me for real.”

Ciarán hissed out a denial. “Not true!”

“Kiddo,” Nana said, expression pinched, “it’s not true. I know your parents make you think so, but it really isn’t.”

She likely thought the sentiment because of the email I’d gotten last night. I’d emailed both of my parents telling them about my trip down to Brazil, and had only gotten a, ‘That’s nice, honey’ in response. It’d only reinforced that nothing I did was of interest to them. And while it was part of it, their response on top of Tabitha’s was too much. Years of loneliness, of feeling unwanted, of knowing the person I was would never be enough, ripped through me all at once.

Ciarán leapt lightly off my lap, transformed back to his human shape, and then yelled out, “KLAUS!”

I startled, not expecting him to yell. Klaus screeched in like something had lit his tail on fire. He looked frantically about, trying to find the emergency, all the while demanding, “What? What?!”

Ciarán looked hopping mad. “Klaus, I need you to answer this with brutal honesty. What is Reagan to you?”

“Mine,” he answered immediately. Klaus steadied himself, catching on that something else was happening.

I blushed deeply, uncomfortable with the way Ciarán was digging into things. “Ciarán, it’s fine, I know you’re my friends—”

Ciarán ignored my protest and commanded Klaus, “More than a one-word answer. She doesn’t understand. She thinks we’re here because she’s an Imagineer, and assigned to protect her.”

Ever seen a kobold lose his temper? Trust me, it ain’t pretty. Klaus’s expression perfectly relayed he’d like to murder someone, and would have, if they’d been in the vicinity. “Who told her that garbage? Reagan! Don’t believe that nonsense. Of course we’re not here because we’re duty-bound.”

“We adore you,” Ciarán informed me, coming in to kneel next to the chair, his hand cradling my cheek in a gentle sweep. “We came to protect a young Imagineer. Instead we gained a lovely friend who fights battles for us, protects us, and gives us affection even when her heart feels empty. Really, Reagan, it was inevitable we love you.”

Tears gathered in my eyes. Did he mean it? Really mean it? I saw nothing but sincerity in his face. I wanted desperately to say something, but my throat was so constricted I couldn’t get a word out.

Klaus stomped up in front of me and hugged my head to his chest, growling as he did so, “Tell me who said such stuff and nonsense to her. I’ll decapitate them. No one speaks to my child that way.”

The words ‘my child’ broke the dam. I’d never heard those words before. Klaus’s outrage convinced me he meant them. I hugged him to me, his small, warm body practically vibrating with anger, hiding my tears against his shirt.

Over my head, Nana whispered, “Her former girlfriend Tabitha was here. It was an ugly scene. And she’d already been dealing with a rather pathetic response from her parents last night. It’s not that someone said something directly, Klaus, it’s just—”

“A pox on all of them,” Klaus growled, tightening his hold on me. “How can they be so casually cruel? Reagan, my darling child, you don’t pay attention to those louts. They’re beneath you. Just remember that if someone treats you terribly, there’s something wrong with them. Good people don’t go around destroying other people.”

Terrifying supernatural he might be, but he was mine, wasn’t he? I felt it down to my very core, and it made me smile even through my tears. “Okay.”

“And you know that we’re yours, right? As you are ours,” Ciarán pressed the point.

Belonging. In my life, I’d never felt that anywhere until these two came to me. It was a heady feeling, but grounding at the same time, as if my heart had finally found its roots. I felt them. Deeply. I lifted my head enough to give him a watery smile. “I believe you.”

“Good.” He stroked my head again, consoling me. “I know it’s hard to feel loved right now because of her rejection, but don’t take it to heart. As a person grows, sometimes that means outgrowing people too. She wants you to grow in a different way than the path you need to take. It’s sad, but unfortunately a part of life too.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do it. Not just change, but keep everything I am hidden to please her. It would require too many lies.” I felt a decade older in that moment. A little reluctantly, I let go of Klaus, wiping at my cheeks with my sleeves. I’d gotten his shirt wet, but he didn’t seem to mind, sticking close to me.

“A relationship built on lies will not last,” Nana counselled gently, retaking my hand. It was awkward, what with the three of them jockeying for the same space, but she managed it. “You’re wise to not try it. I’m sorry for her. She’s apparently gotten bad advice, and lost a wonderful friend in the process. I’m proud of you for standing your ground, despite how much it hurt. You’ll both be better for it. But it’s alright to be sad, kiddo.”

I agreed with her, one hundred percent, but it was hard. Not just because I really had put a nail in the coffin of my friendship, but also because I felt like I’d cut my last tie with the normal world in the process. Stepping completely out of any comfort zone was never a comfortable experience. No matter how good the reason.

Sighing, I pushed myself up to my feet. “Thank you. Sorry for the waterworks. Let’s get back to packing. I don’t have time for teenage drama.”

“That’s the spirit,” Nana encouraged, following me back up. “Besides, you’re going on a grand adventure tomorrow. That’s going to have your full attention.”

It would. And it would be the perfect distraction I needed.

In order to fly internationally, we had to leave from Portland International Airport, which in turn meant getting up early to drive to Portland. I wasn’t really awake as Klaus drove us in, using Nana’s van to do it because of course four adults and all their luggage wouldn’t fit into my little Civic. We got to the airport in plenty of time to go through security check-in, which I fumbled through, as I’d never been in an airport before. I’d dropped my parents off for flights, but never actually boarded a plane myself. I’d followed the advice from both Zoya and Nana, wore comfortable clothes and slip-on tennis shoes, keeping my ID and passport in my pocket for easy access.

The airport was large, the hallways wide enough to drive semis through, with thousands of people either coming or going. Old people, young, families, parents with whining children, even a whole soccer team of guys near my age passed us. The gates and terminals confused me a little, but I kept in pace with Zoya and a glamoured Ciarán, determined not to get lost my first time in an airport.

We were forty-five minutes early for our flight, so once we found our gate, I sat down and pulled my laptop out, determined to catch up on all the reports coming in. James had found something promising last night, an account from a druid who had been drinking buddies with one of the Imagineers who’d created the highway system. I read through the account with growing interest as the druid recounted a conversation he’d had with the man.

We’d all been worried about the trend the world was taking. Humanity was slowly taking over all the good places to live—even some of the bad ones—and it was becoming harder and harder for us to travel. Safely travel, anyway. The churches at the time were bent on destroying any hint of ‘evil,’ and the witch hunts were frequent and merciless. The Imagineers were beside themselves, scurrying about, putting up wards and such. For all their efforts, it only worked to a degree. We were safe within our barriers, but prisoners as well. We could not step outside for fear of attack.

I asked Ruben if there wasn’t some better way to go about it. If we just had the means to travel quickly and covertly to different areas, giving us the means of escape if we needed it, wouldn’t that be better? We quite liked the idea, and the more we discussed it, the more viable it seemed. Ruben believed it wouldn’t be possible to create an overarching system, that it would be too complex and prone to problems. Complex systems fail in complex ways, he said, and best to keep it simple. But he thought he could create a system of travel within each country, and perhaps connect one platform from each country to a grand docking area, something that would allow international travel. I thought it sounded wonderful and encouraged him to do it.

He then asked me a great deal about druidic travel. We use different planes to get about, you know. I asked if he would create something like our system, and he said it likely wouldn’t work because it took magic to use it. Not every mythical creature has magic of their own, so I saw his point. But he was quite intrigued by the idea of creating something on another plane. He said it would “solve a few problems” and inquired extensively on what planes were in use by other pantheons. I gave him the gist as I knew it, as well as a few people who were more expert than I, and after that the wine rather got to me, I’m afraid.

Ten years later I ran into him again, this time while he was creating the platform system in England. Well, what is now England. He told me he’d taken our idea and run with it, collaborating with several other Imagineers to create it. I was quite astonished, but beyond thrilled. He had me come back six months later to test it for him, to make sure I could operate it with only the barest of instructions and no working knowledge of the system. I did so, handily, and helped him translate the instructions into several other languages.

I’m afraid, my dear Imagineers, that he never did tell me how it worked. My mind doesn’t work like yours, and despite using it for several centuries, I couldn’t begin to tell you how it worked. I do know the Hub existed on another plane, however. That I’m quite sure on, and Ruben reliably told me they’d chosen a plane not in use by all of the other pantheons. Or at least, at the time, that was the case.

I do hope that helped. I really can’t think of what else to tell you. I’m, of course, available for questions, although I can’t guarantee I’ll know the answers.

-Aodghan

I sat back with a huff of astonishment. So Nana was right? It really was on a different plane?

Proving she’d been reading over my shoulder, my master gave a low whistle. “Nice to have that confirmed. And he even had it confirmed by one of the original builders!”

“Bless him,” I replied, making prayer hands in front of me. “If the man was any closer, I’d kiss him for that. That’s going to save us so much aggravation later. No wonder James flagged that for us to read. Still, do druids really live that long?”

“Assuming something doesn’t come along to kill them first, yes, they do. Druids live as long or as short as they choose to, and they keep their secret of longevity very close to the chest.” Zoya tapped a finger to the laptop’s base, the wheels churning. “We might well have questions for him, but I want to get down to Brazil and see Thais first. She’s not been just sitting around twiddling her thumbs while waiting on us. I’m sure she’ll have more than a few things to report.”

“I’m counting on that. But Mactep, seriously, you don’t have any clue how this system worked?”

“None,” she denied, making a sour face. “Then again, I’ve never been able to see it with my own eyes before this point. They were, of course, well out of use by the time I awoke as an Imagineer.”

Made sense, I suppose. Still, even with all the information and accounts we had, I found it curious that not one of my colleagues had the faintest idea how this thing worked. Even Jackson, with his engineering ability, could only tell us how he’d build it, and his system was by all accounts far more complex than the one lying in abandoned ruins.

Nothing like a mystery, I guess.

Let me tell you, the novelty of being on a plane wears off in about fifteen minutes. I say this because, with my knees basically pressed up against the back of the seat in front of me, I had no wiggle room, and it was a loooong flight. Seventeen hours and thirty minutes, to be precise, and that didn’t even put us in the right area of the country. Because that would be too convenient, obviously. No, the plane would land in Rio de Janeiro and then we’d have to either catch a puddle jumper or drive or something back toward the northern section of Brazil.

I rejoiced that I didn’t have to organize this trip. I was along for the ride.

Rio de Janeiro was not a small city. Even through my narrow window, I could see quite a bit from the air as we slowly descended. Lots of corporate buildings—blocky things of concrete and glass—stretched out along the shoreline. The harbor was packed with boats, little dots of white on top of the blue. I saw the famous large statue of Christ overlooking the harbor too, taking it in with curiosity. I’d seen it in more than a few movies, after all. We came around, braking for a landing, and I saw the half-moon terminal as we came in. It was an interesting shape for an airport. Not that I knew much about airports.

Our landing was not an easy one, and we all rattled in our seats, more than a few people swearing as the plane bounced hard once, twice, then a slightly softer third before the wheels stayed on the pavement. Ciarán especially did not appreciate this, as he asked Zoya sarcastically, “Did we land, or were we shot down?”

“Hard to tell,” Zoya said sourly. “I’ve been flown by better pilots, I will say that. Reagan, don’t think that landing was normal.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” I really didn’t care how we landed, to be honest. I just wanted OFF THE PLANE. A girl could only take so much of this sitting-still nonsense.

Even landed, I couldn’t just hop up and escape. People grabbed luggage from the overhead bins and started shuffling their way off, and because we were midway down, it took several minutes before we could follow them down the runway. Ciarán grabbed our bags from overhead for us, keeping my backpack and his, which I appreciated beyond words. That thing was heavier than it should be. I’d crammed too much into it, trying to keep my duffle under fifty pounds.

It felt really good to stretch my legs, although I was tired. I hadn’t been able to sleep, and it was now almost a straight twenty-one hours I’d been up.

The plan was for Thais to meet us at the airport, stay in a hotel tonight, and leave in the morning. I hoped dinner would feature somewhere in those plans, as I was starving.

Once off the plane, we had to follow the signs for baggage claim, and since we were an international flight, go through customs. It took close to an hour before we finally made it out, and Zoya called Thais as we sailed through the automatic doors. “We’re out. Where are—ah, white van? Yes, I see you.”

I looked around curiously. White van? A slender woman with long, dark hair trailing over her shoulder waved both arms over her head, signaling to us, a happy smile on her face. I waved back because I was more happy to be here.

We closed in and Thais threw her arms around Zoya for a firm hug. “Mactep, I’m happy you’re here. Was it a good flight?”

“Not bad, although the landing jostled every bone we had. Thais, you know Reagan, of course, but this is her protector, Ciarán.”

Thais hugged me hello, which I returned firmly, then she shook hands with Ciarán. “Welcome to Brazil. Let’s go to the hotel, throw bags inside, then find food, shall we?”

“Food,” I agreed fervently.

Stacking our bags into the back of the van, I climbed into one of the middle captain seats, and Thais slid back into the driver’s seat. As she did so, she warned us, “We’ll actually be joined by another clanswoman of mine in the morning. She’s kobold and has offered her services, in more ways than one. She’ll check to see if the platforms operate at all in pocket dimensions—”

My ears perked at that, as that was one of the unanswered questions we had hanging over our heads at the moment. We didn’t think the platforms or the Hub were in portal spaces, but we needed that confirmed one way or another.

“—and she knows a few ancient languages, which she’ll work to translate for us while we’re on site. I also want her on hand because I have a very good suspicion about where one of those platforms lead. We still haven’t regained communications with the Bandeira Clan, which is worrisome. But I believe, from reading the accounts, that our platform will connect with theirs, assuming it’s still standing.”

My mind stuttered on this possibility. “Wait, you think we can re-connect with them directly? Not just get close enough to hike the rest of the distance? Seriously?!”

Thais met my eyes briefly in the rearview mirror. “Wouldn’t that be cool?”

“You kidding? That would be awesome!” Man oh man, could this job get any cooler?

“One step at a time,” Zoya counselled us both in amusement. “Let’s not count our chickens before they hatch.”

Good advice, but I wasn’t at all sure I could take it.

You’d think I’d be too excited to sleep that night, but I passed out completely. Zoya had to shake me awake, as the alarm didn’t even ping my awareness. We hopped onto another flight into Manaus, a much smaller airport than Rio de Janeiro, and that put us right on the Amazon River. People obviously had adapted to living along the Amazon. The central part of town had skyscrapers and modern buildings, but along the waterfront was a whole different story. The houses were smaller there, rickety-looking, and all of them on stilts. These people got flooded on a regular basis and their houses were silent proof of that.

Thais had a vehicle waiting for us in the long-term parking, her own this time instead of a rental. I say vehicle because it looked like a Jeep, but not quite like any Jeep I’d seen. No open back, to start with, and the word Troller was embedded across the front grill. It looked perfect for going into the Amazon, I gave it that, but it didn’t have a lot of room for passengers. At a squeeze, it would sit five, making it barely large enough for all of us. Ciarán turned cat right as we loaded inside, giving everyone more room to stretch out in.

Because of the morning bustle, general confusion, and the seating arrangements of the plane, I’d barely met our kobold expert who had joined us. She looked like Klaus, but didn’t, at the same time—a little shorter, a little slimmer, her bone structure more delicate. Her skin had a deeper tone, as if she spent more time out in the sun than my friend. She likely did.

Sitting next to me in the van, she turned and offered a hand. “I barely got your name this morning, what with all the rush to catch the flight. Eleanora, pleasure.”

“Reagan, nice to meet you.” I felt calluses on her hand. This woman worked physically hard at something. “Do you mind if I ask some questions?”

“Not at all, I’m sure you’ve got loads,” Eleanora encouraged.

“I have a kobold friend at home, and he’s told me some of what your people can do, but I’m not sure I entirely have everything in my head,” I explained as I buckled in. With the way Thais liked to speed off, I was so buckling in. “I know you have your own personal space you can access at will, but can you sense all pocket dimensions?”

Eleanora gave me a nod, buckling in as well, then put a steadying hand against the door as Thais hit the gas. We all slid a few inches to the side as the g-force grabbed at us. “It’s part of our ability. Makes sense, if you think about it. Just because it’s in a different plane, doesn’t mean we can place them however way we want. We need to sense where connections are, where they’re located in another plane, and be able to avoid trampling on someone else’s property.”

That made total sense. “How do you sense it?”

“It’s quite obvious to our sight. You see magical Doorways and barriers, don’t you? It’s just like that.”

“So you won’t even need a minute to figure out if this is pocket dimensions or not.”

“Correct. I’m inclined to think not, to be frank. I never used the portal system—I was born the same year they were shut down—but I’ve heard multiple stories about it growing up. And thanks to your request, we have multiple accounts coming in from people who would be able to sense other dimensions. Not one has mentioned pocket space or anything similar to it. Well, the Hub supposedly was on a different plane, although which one is anyone’s guess.”

“So you’re here to just verify one way or another, but we’re not really banking on this.”

“Correct again. I’m more coming along to help translate, honestly.”

I had that gut feeling. But if this project had taught me anything, it was to not assume and ask questions. “So how much about the planes do you know?”

“Well, I’m no druid—they’re the experts—but I know the basics. Why?”

“I haven’t had a chance to read up on them yet,” I explained to her, barely quelling my frustration. “Too much else was demanding my time. Can you give me the basics?”

“In essence, there’s multiple planes—all belonging to different belief systems. Belief is what powers them. Some of it ties into esoteric cosmology. The first plane is the physical. We’re currently on that one, but it’s not as simple as ‘you’re on Earth.’ It also deals with visible reality of space, time, energy, and matter. Next is the astral plane, or emotional plane, where our consciousness goes after physical death. This is the realm inherited and reigned over by the gods. Also dreamscape, if you wish to call it that. By the right practitioner, it can be reached during dreaming.”

Ticking off a third finger, she waited as I scrambled to pull notebook and pen out to write notes—I had terrible oral learning ability. I wasn’t about to pass on this free lesson if someone was giving me the summary of that very thick, dry-as-dust tome I had to read. Seriously. Zoya’s textbook on the subject could give an insomniac the perfect means to sleep.

Eleanora kindly gave me a minute to catch up before continuing. “Then we have the mental plane, and it’s divided into seven sub-planes. I won’t get into all of them. After that, we have layers upon layers of the planes belonging to the different pantheons and afterlives. Different pantheons exist on different planes, some more in control than others, and of course we have limited understanding of them. The only ones who can freely walk between them are the druids and the gods, and they don’t choose to spill any secrets.”

My hand threatened to cramp under my mad scribbling and I paused to shake my fingers out. “So if you were an Imagineer, and you had to choose a plane to put the Hub on, which would be your choice?”

Sitting back, she crossed her legs, the ankles dangling a bit over the edge of the seat. She had the height of a ten-year-old, so no surprise this car didn’t fit her right. “I’ve pondered that very question while going through all the witness statements. If you wish to call them that. I believe somewhere on the mental plane. It’s the only logical choice, really. Putting it there doesn’t interfere with the politics or belief systems of anyone, it’s on neutral ground, and it gives the Imagineers a leg-up, as it were. Thought is so much stronger on that plane, more powerful. It would make the slightly implausible very achievable.”

I followed this, but didn’t. Her choice made sense but at the same time, it begged questions. Why put it there? It would mean transcending past two planes, one of which routinely meant death, in order to put the Hub in place. And people would have to travel back and forth constantly. Wouldn’t that be hard on people, physically speaking? And that didn’t take into account how much energy it would require to punch through two different planes. I didn’t even know how to calculate it but I bet it would be a lot.

Eyes narrowed on my face, Eleanora got the same light in her eye that Nana did right before she got into a debate with someone. “You don’t agree with me.”

I felt it really rude to say, so gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I don’t.”

Both Zoya and Ciarán turned around—my pooka friend was currently lounging on the front seat divider—and gave me intense, curious stares. Right, so, no pressure there either.

“Alright, young Imagineer,” Eleanora encouraged, smile widening. She really was gearing up for this mentally. “Why not? Tell me; I’m all ears.”

Sucking in a breath, I blew it out again. I was not much of a debater, but here goes. “Two problems I see with it. One, you just told me that in order to go to the Astral Plane, people have to either die or do some serious magic mojo to dream-walk it. How do you expect anyone to pass not only out of the physical plane, but through the astral, in order to reach yet a third plane, when it would be physically draining on them to do it? Even with an Imagineer’s power, I don’t see how it’s possible. We create objects. In nifty, magical ways, I grant you, but they’re still objects. What kind of device could possibly take people safely through three planes without it tearing them up on some level?”

Eleanora’s bright gold eyes narrowed even further. She didn’t accede the point, but she grunted to show she was thinking about it. “And your second objection?”

“Energy. Even with a really amazing system, you still need the energy to run it. I don’t care how brilliant someone is—creating a global highway portal system, that punches through three planes of existence on a regular basis with thousands of passengers? That’s going to eat up a heck of a lot of energy. More than any person or group of people could supply.”

For a long moment, everyone just stared at me and I started to wonder, did I just say something stupid? I didn’t know everything (understatement of the year, right there) but based on everything I’d read in the past three months, everything they’d told me, I didn’t see any logical fallacies on my part.

“Zoya.” Eleanora abruptly turned to my master. “She’s right, isn’t she?”

“She is. I was going to point it out myself if she didn’t.” Zoya gave me a proud nod and I blushed a little in response, cheeks heating. “My Rea isn’t slow on the uptake. Part of the reason why we’ve struggled to comprehend the portal system was that we couldn’t understand how they kept it powered. It was monstrous and complex. How did they manage it? For centuries, no less. But if we add in the complication of going through multiple planes, that only makes it more horrendously complicated. I can’t fault your initial guess, though. The mental plane would be the easiest to work in, assuming you could safely get up there without leaving your body behind.”

An irreverent question popped into my head. Would it be easier to work without a body? Without fatigue, or physical distractions like hunger, wouldn’t I be able to just work on things non-stop? Of course, I couldn’t impact anything physical once I made it, so there was that.

Eleanora didn’t disagree, but a disgruntled expression turned down the corners of her mouth. “But if not there, where did they put it?”

“That is indeed the question,” Thais agreed sourly. “Hopefully someone left behind enough clues for us to figure it out. Otherwise, this is going to break our brains.”

“Thais,” Zoya grumbled at her, “it’s already breaking our brains.”

The Brazilian Imagineer just shrugged agreement because, truly, no one could argue.

Our base camp near the platform was much more established than I’d expected it to be. I mean, my camping experience was zilch; I had nothing to base it on except TV. I expected tents, and got them, but they were like circus tents, huge domed things an elephant could pass through without trouble. There were four of them, and I saw more than a few barriers in place to keep out pests. No one wanted to depend on bug spray, huh.

Hopping out, I shouldered my bag and got a good look around. The jungle was thick, lush with the sounds of birds, insects, and the river flowing nearby. I couldn’t see it from this angle but I could certainly smell and hear it. It was a much richer environment, in terms of sensory input, and I paused to take it all in, orienting myself. The trees themselves were massive here, larger than any person could wrap their arms around. I couldn’t imagine the age of this place. It was so incredibly different than anything I’d experienced. It wasn’t just that everything looked different. It felt different. The very air was denser, more humid, with sounds and scents I couldn’t identify. Nothing rammed it more clearly home to me than this moment that I was in Brazil. A whole ’nother country. And that was a very, very awesome feeling. I could get down with this traveling-to-different-countries thing.

Though I could do without the humidity. I could feel my hair poofing, the humidity was so dense. I knew it headed into ‘holy crap, it’s HAGRID’ territory. Braids were definitely going to be my friend over the next several weeks.

More than a few heads popped up from around a portable table, taking in our arrival. I saw other people coming around the tent to greet us. It seemed we had a few of Thais’s clansmen here, helping out. For protection as well as tending the camp? It would make sense to me—we were sort of in the middle of nowhere. I recognized both James and Jackson, wearing almost identical outfits of khaki pants and long-sleeved shirts, jungle hats on their heads. James came straight to Zoya with a smile on his face, hand extended. “Zoya. You made good time.”

“We did, fortunately.” She clasped his hand. “Any developments since we boarded the plane?”

“Not as such. Jackson believes he’s spotted the powering system for the platform.”

“Looks suspiciously like a power coupling to me, or what it would have been in ancient times,” Jackson informed us. He shook Zoya’s hand as well, then came around her to shake mine. “Reagan, glad you’re here. Your grandmother’s been updating things to the drive since you left.”

News to me, but I hadn’t had a chance to pick up anything electronic in almost forty hours. “Yeah? Anything good?”

“More platform locations,” he reported, excited. “She and Klaus said they miss your photoshop skills but they’re doing good updating the map. I’ll let you see for yourself in a second, but for now, throw your bag in that purple tent. That’s the tent for you ladies.”

I nodded understanding, went around to the trunk, and hauled out my suitcase. Lugging it across the soft grass, I stepped across the threshold and nearly dropped everything when something sharp skimmed over me. It was like being mildly slapped with a sharp wind. Pausing, I looked suspiciously around the entrance until I spied the culprit. Ahhh. Someone had put yet another ward around the tent to keep out dirt and bugs. They were not messing around with pest control here.

Army cots were already folded out and lined up in regimental rows. There were six altogether, the back three clear of personal belongings. I went to the very back, tossing everything down. With the tall roof of the tent, the corners still had enough height to stand up in, so my head didn’t brush the top. Seriously, where did you get tents this big? Or had they made them? My money leaned toward the latter.

I stole a moment to put on sunscreen (not that I expected to burn), some insect repellant just in case I had to step out of the warded area, and then redid my hair in a low braid so I could put a hat on. More or less protected from the elements, I grabbed up my trusty notebook and two pens and ducked back out, passing Zoya coming in as I did so.

“Email your grandmother that you’re here,” my master instructed as she passed me.

“Roger roger.” She was likely anxious to know we’d arrived safely.

The tents were all set up in a row, which blocked the view from the dirt road we’d followed to get here. No sign of any computers or anything out here, so I went behind, hunting for a laptop with a signal. I knew it existed, I’d talked with Thais often enough while she was here. Rounding the tent, I nearly stumbled over one of the roped stakes as I realized that the tents were hiding the portal platform.

I’d seen pictures, of course I had, but it didn’t really compare to real life. It was huge, to start with, at least forty yards wide, and in a rectangular shape that stretched out, like it was the beginning of a road never completed. Each corner had a thick square column stretching upwards, different symbols carved into the surface of each one. It looked much like the initial structure of a large building, only without the walls or roof. Moss and vines climbed up along the sides, nature trying to claim it, but obviously something thwarted it, as nothing green touched the top. People were measuring the platform from every side, Jackson hunched down in front near the small ramp leading upwards, and I drifted up to stand near him, my eyes devouring the platform.

Stonking deities, look at the craftsmanship of this thing! Abandoned for nearly a hundred years, and yet the stonework was as tight and clean as the day it’d been laid. Not even a hint of mortar anywhere to be found, either. The platform stood as high as my head, thereabouts, formed of a grey stone I vaguely felt was granite. Then again, maybe not. I was no geologist.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Jackson acknowledged, as if I’d said the words aloud. “There’s not a single fracture anywhere to be found. Not often you see work as tightly done as this. We believe they used the Incan method of building, as there’s not a trace of mortar.”

“I took the final on Incan history, therefore doing a memory dump, so remind me,” I said, still staring hard at the platform. “Incan building technique?”

“Each stone was carved to such precision that they fit together perfectly. See how they’re not uniform? They took rocks from the surrounding area and carved them to notch together.”

True, none of them were brick-sized, and were shaped in every possibly poly-shape imaginable. “So did they actually build this physically or imagineer it?”

“That is indeed the question. No idea.” Jackson sat back on his haunches for a second, passing a hand over his brown eyes in a gesture of fatigue. “I beat you here by two days, and honestly? Two days of staring at it hasn’t given me the answer. We know the Incan method of building is incredibly strong. There’s whole cities still standing, despite earthquakes and floods and all sorts of disasters. Did our ancestors build it this way because they knew it could withstand the test of time? Or did they imagineer it this way because they were copying a strong style?”

“What I want to know is, why didn’t they write anything down?”

“Maybe they did. Texts surviving from the fourteenth century are very rare,” Jackson pointed out. “And not everyone was literate back then. It could be they didn’t have a means of recording it all down. Or they did and it just wasn’t preserved. We’ve had a lot of wars over the centuries destroy whole libraries.”

Good point. I hadn’t thought of it quite like that. “Either way, leaves us in the dark. Okay, the mystery of how it was built aside, can I borrow your laptop to email Nana?”

“Huh?” Jackson’s attention was back on the stones and it took him a moment to process what I said. “Oh, sure. It’s on the ramp.”

“Thanks.” I hopped up to kneel on the ramp—spoiler alert, kneeling on stone was not comfortable—and typed out a quick email to Nana saying we’d arrived safely and were digging into the problem. Then I closed down my email and went back to Jackson. Kneeling next to him, I tilted my head to the side, trying to see what he saw.

Now, I wasn’t an engineer like Jackson. What I saw didn’t make much sense to me. But it looked like a magical sigil with three glass tubes, plugging directly into the side of the platform. The glass looked a little worse for wear, dirty and weather beaten, and Jackson had clearly wiped up the dirt and yanked vines out of the box to see the interior. A square foot on all sides, it wasn’t large, but I saw what he meant about it likely being the power source. It certainly looked like it connected something.

“Sooo…this the only one?”

“No, there’s three others. One on each corner. And the more I look at it, the more I fear James is right, and it’s not so much a power source as a connector. But short of tearing the platform apart, I don’t know how we’ll find the power source. And if we can’t find the power source, we can’t charge it, and if we can’t charge it, we can’t use it to find the other platforms connected to it or backwards engineer how they built the benighted thing and—” he cut himself off with a huff of frustration. “I want a blueprint, sod it.”

I patted him on the back reassuringly. “We’ll figure it out, Jackson.”

He gave me a forlorn look, like a child anxious to have a cookie. “Promise?”

If I knew him a little better, I’d have hugged him. He really needed a hug just then. He already looked to be at his wit’s end. I gave him my best smile instead. “Our brains might leak out of our ears in the process, but I promise you, I’m not going to stop until we figure this out.”

We had a small troop of Negrinho do pastoreios I recognized from my readings. All young boys with ebony skin, they wore loose white shirts and pants, with sandals on their feet. According to legends, the Negrinho do pastoreio was once a black slave who had been skinned by a cruel owner and left to rot on a farm. He was revived by the Holy Mother Mary and escaped on a horse. They were kind if you lit a candle and said a prayer for their soul, even going so far as to help you find lost things. I was a little surprised to see them as a workforce here, but they were cheerful about scraping off all the moss from the platform, revealing the stone and any other symbols that might be carved into it.

I did see one tranca-rua as well. ‘One who walks the streets’ was how the textbook I’d read translated the name. He was a tall man in a white smocking, white hat with a red band around it, his skin mahogany smooth. He kept walking back and forth along the platform, humming an idle tune to himself, sometimes leaning down to poke at something. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but his race were known to be able to open or close pathways. They could open paths of possibilities for good or evil, depending on the objective of whoever requested it. Perhaps Thais felt his talents would be good here, considering it was a pathway we were trying to open.

Eleonora came over to the portal, took one hard look at it, and announced it space-less. Well, she had a bunch of technical terms for it, but it amounted to the portal not being part of a pocket dimension. More or less the answer we’d expected. No one was particularly fazed, just sighed and went with the next theory.

There were a lot of theories.

I had to admit, I didn’t follow most of them. They were a little too ‘out there’ for me.

Almost everyone had their own camp chairs and tables as we settled down to eat dinner late that evening. The group of Negrinho do pastoreios were actually in the bathing tent, splashing and giggling at each other, leaving the ‘adults’ to sit and talk.

“What I really want to know is, why are the platforms positioned as they are?” James demanded around the camp fire that evening. It was hot and humid as all get out, but we still had a fire going. For the atmosphere, maybe? Pointing a fork toward the half-illuminated portal behind us, he gave an illustrated growl. “It’s not like this was ever a central hub of trade or civilization. Why here?”

“Maybe the veil between the planes is thinner here?” Thais offered before biting into her sandwich.

“Of course the veil is thin here,” Eleonora retorted, face scrunching up with exasperation. She sat cross-legged near the fire, the closest one to it, as if cold. “It’s thin everywhere. Who ever heard of a thick veil? There’s a reason why they don’t call it ‘the down comforter between worlds.’”

I choked on my sandwich, barely able to keep myself from spewing. Thais made a face at her but even she was amused at the rebuff.

“So why here?” James demanded again, but more a grumble this time, resigned already to not getting an immediate answer.

“And why the four power generators?” Jackson swallowed from his water bottle before continuing, his tone thoughtful. “None of them are complex, just a sigil in the base of the box with three glass tubes. I assume it was meant to either conduct or store power. But why four? Why not one large box?”

Zoya finished off her plate with a quick lick of the fingers before setting it aside. “Perhaps it had something to do with the dimensions of the platform itself. The generator needed to be inside the wall of the base, correct?”

“I assume so.” Jackson spread both hands in a helpless shrug.

“And a larger power generator would by necessity raise the platform base to a higher level. Perhaps it wasn’t as feasible.”

Jackson shrugged again. “You could very well be right. I’m just afraid I’m going to have to dismantle the platform to reverse engineer this.”

That didn’t sound right to me. I twisted in my camp chair to face him better, both of my hands steadying the plate in my lap so it didn’t tilt over. “Why not just create something that can see through the rock?”

“Like a seismograph?” James gave me an odd look that slid into something overly patient, as if I’d just asked a stupid question but he was too polite to point it out.

Jackson shook his head. “I need something more visual than that. This will take seeing things with perfect precision. It’s fine. I think if we label each stone and carefully dismantle it, we can put it all back together again.”

I opened my mouth in an objection. They didn’t get my point at all. Not a seismograph or anything along those lines, but something more like my glasses. I didn’t wear them anymore—didn’t need to—but those had let me see right through glamours and wards. Which technically wasn’t possible. Why couldn’t we create something that could see through physical stone as well?

“Yes, let’s start in on that in the morning,” Zoya agreed. Tilting her head from side to side, she cracked her neck, already gearing up for it. “It’ll take a few days, but with a determined team like we have here, I think we can do it. We’ll just need to carefully document each step.”

Once again, I opened my mouth to protest but had no chance. The conversation kept going, each of them creating an overall plan of how to dismantle the platform. Their confidence silenced me as nothing else would. If they were so sure my method wouldn’t work, then maybe they were right?

And yet my instincts urged me to do it anyway.

Quietly, I left my chair, going to the kitchen tent and disposing what remained of my dinner before stepping back out and heading toward the platform. The sounds of insects and running water followed me as I left the circle of tents. This late in the evening, no light penetrated the thick canopy of branches overhead. If there were stars, or a moon, I couldn’t detect them in the sky. The artificial lights didn’t quite reach out toward here—they were more focused around the camp sight—but I had enough to navigate by. I stopped at the edge of the platform and stared at the dark stone.

Imagination had no limit. That’s what Nana always told me growing up. Zoya said the only limit Imagineers had was the number of layers we could hold in our minds. If I wanted glasses allowing me to see through stone, then shouldn’t I be able to create them? At the very least, I wanted to try. And if I failed, well, I had no witnesses out here.

I thought of my glasses, folded up and carefully stored in my jewelry box at home. The turquoise frames, square and trendy, that sat so naturally on my face. I pictured that pair of frames but this time with a different intent. They popped into my hand and I smiled at the familiarity of the weight. Slipping them on, I took a look, but it was so dark I really couldn’t see much. I created a flashlight as well, felt it pop into my hand, and turned it on. Ah, that was better.

Like panes of glass, the stones were perfectly transparent to me. I slid the glasses down my nose a notch, and with my natural eyes the stones were as opaque as ever. Smirking, I slid them back up with my middle finger. See? Totally worked.

Now, how to get the rest of them to try on the glasses? You could lead a horse to Evanescence but you couldn’t always bring them to life. To use my favorite malaphor.

I heard the swish of footsteps in the tall grass and turned my head to find James walking toward me. His expression was hard to read with the backlight turning his face into a silhouette, but his voice relayed his sincerity.

“Apologies, Reagan. I didn’t mean to shut you down like that. I mean, so far you’ve kept up with all of the magical and engineering theory like a champ, despite only being at this three months. You’ve got the mind for this, that’s clear, I just—”

Without a word, I took off the glasses and handed them to him, still smirking.

He paused, looking at the glasses as if they might bite him. “Why are you handing me those?”

“Try them on, James,” I purred.

Eyeing me suspiciously, he gingerly took the glasses. “You’re not trying to prank me, are you?”

“Now, why would I do that?”

Still not really trusting me, he nevertheless unfolded them and tentatively held them up to his nose without actually putting them on. A single blink, then he jammed them onto his face. Our facial structure was similar enough in size they fit tolerably well. Or at least, he wasn’t complaining.

“Well I never!” he breathed, the word tumbling out of his mouth without anything else following it but squeaks and squawks.

I grinned like the Grinch right before he stole Christmas, eyebrows waggling up and down. A more mature person wouldn’t rub it in. I was not mature. “Seeeee? Told you it would work.”

“Gorblimey,” he spluttered again, yanking them off his face to point them at me, nearly shaking. “How did you do that?!”

“Now, James, how do you think I did it?” Did I break him?

“No, but there’s no basis for this,” he denied, voice rising with each word in pitch and volume, right into the realms of screeching cats. “Something like glasses that can see through magically infused stone doesn’t exist! If it did, we wouldn’t have had so much trouble!”

I didn’t understand his denial. “Dude. We’re Imagineers. It doesn’t need to have a basis in reality for us to create it.”

He stuttered to a stop, blue eyes too wide in his thin face, mouth hanging wide enough for a convoy of flies to sail through. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “I’ve been schooled! By an apprentice Imagineer, no less!”

I grinned at him in amusement. He really was a sight in that moment. “You’re welcome. And thank you for taking it so well.”

“Wait, wait, we have to tell everyone else you’re quite right, and we’re all idiots.” Skipping back toward the fire, he called out to them, “Reagan really could create the glasses! We won’t have to dismantle it!”

I let him go, lingering in my satisfaction. The man who says it can’t be done really shouldn’t interrupt the woman doing it. (Another of Nana’s phrases.)

From the darkness, Ciarán drifted up to me. He was in panther form this time, only his glowing eyes showing his relative position in the dim lighting. His words were a rough rumble, as if he both chuckled and purred at the same time. “Showed him, didn’t you.”

“Where did you come from?” I asked curiously. I really hadn’t sensed him up until that moment.

“I followed you the moment you left the fire,” he said, shifting slowly from panther to human form. “There’s nasty things out here that can grab you in an instant. You know that.”

Well, I did. But I also didn’t think I was in any real danger this close to camp. Or was I being naïve? “Oh. Thanks.”

“Reagan!” Zoya called, standing so the fire silhouetted her. “Come make us glasses!”

“Okay!” I called back, the grin bouncing back on my face. I was going to get so much mileage out of this.

I lay in bed that night, trying to get my giddiness to settle so I could actually sleep. It neared midnight, because of course, after I crafted glasses for everyone, they grilled me on what I’d done to create them, and then they all had to tramp out around the platform to test their new toys. It was definitely a peacock moment for me, fielding questions from the experts on how to make something.

Okay, no. Stop reliving that moment. Sleeeep. Sleep, my brain. Sleep is good.

Zoya, in the next cot over, rolled onto her side and whispered, “Reagan.”

On the other hand, I could always talk with my master. Opening my eyes, I whispered back, “What?”

“I know James asked you this, but really. How did you know you could?”

She didn’t sound confrontational, more like she was testing a theory. I answered as best I could. “Well, Nana always said imagination has no limits. And I’d already created glasses once that let me see the impossible. Why wouldn’t they work?”

She pondered that for a moment. In the dimness of the tent, with only reflected firelight coming through the thin walls, she appeared barely more than a lump on the cot to me. Still, I could almost see the cogs turning. “So even though we told you it couldn’t be done, you were sure you could.”

“Well, yeah. I’m more curious why all of you thought you couldn’t?”

Zoya sat on that for a few moments. Her voice was bittersweet as she finally replied. “As you grow older, you’ll discover that the world is full of people who tell you ‘you can’t.’ Imagineers fight a constant battle to not listen to those voices, but I think we all succumb to it at some point. It’s so easy for us to replicate what we’ve been taught, or do variations of something established. We don’t always push the boundaries of our comfort zone.”

I understood what she meant. I’d been told for years I couldn’t do things. Not that I shouldn’t, but that I was not capable of it. I’d let some things go, as not worth the argument, but the older I got the more I didn’t like to just give in. Why couldn’t I? These people who liked to give me advice rarely knew much about me. How could they judge what I could and couldn’t accomplish? I barely knew, myself. At the very least, I wanted to try.

This was one of those days where that bull-headed stubbornness paid off. And I gotta admit, that pleased me.

“Challenge us,” Zoya commanded firmly.

Do you ever just forget to hide your expressions for a minute and then you’re like whoa! I did not mean to make that face out loud. That was me in that second.

“Challenge us,” Zoya repeated, apparently able to read my face, or at least the startled jerk I made on that cot. “I know you came along because you’re my apprentice, and I wanted you to have the experience of working on this project, but I think you’ll be an asset we need. You haven’t grown up under the same culture, the same unspoken restrictions we operate under. You have no context of what an Imagineer ‘can’ or ‘can’t’ do. If we say something, and you think it can be done, challenge us. We need that if we’re to really solve this puzzle.”

Wow. Well okay, then. “Sure, Mactep. I’ll question every decision that doesn’t feel right to me. You sure that won’t irritate everyone, though?”

“Not as much as you two gibbering while the rest of us are trying to sleep,” Thais called from the front of the tent.

I snickered. “Sorry.”

“Accept the challenge to challenge,” Thais commanded firmly. “And go to sleep.”

I gave them all an analyst’s salute, two fingers straight off my forehead, awkward as that was at this horizontal angle. “Challenge accepted.”

“It’s connecting to the aether.”

I sat on top of the platform, studying one of the power cells and sketching it out so we could upload it into the Gramarye folder. Cameras had not been effective in getting a good angle except dead-on, and I figured the sketches would help. I’d been at it since breakfast, with everyone else scattered around the platform, studying it properly in the morning light.

Jackson was poking at the one I sketched, although he sat back at Eleonora’s pronouncement and gave her an odd look. “It’s doing what, now?”

“It’s connecting to the aether.” Even though she repeated herself, Eleonora’s tone kept rising with incredulity, as if she couldn’t believe what her own eyes reported to her. She took off the glasses I’d made her, sitting back on her haunches, and threw a hand up. “I realize how ridiculous my own statement is. But that’s what the sigil says.”

Eleonora had been working on the sigil translation while I sketched, as it was in ancient high German, completely incomprehensible to the rest of us. I didn’t doubt her translation, although I didn’t follow why they were so astounded, either. “Can someone please catch the new kid up? Why is this crazy, or awesome, or whatever?”

“Right, I only told you the basics.” Eleonora rubbed at an eyebrow, eyes staring blankly off into space for a second before she visibly pulled herself together. “Alright. There’re different levels of the aether. It’s a subplane of the physical plane, a life-sustaining force of living beings, present in all natural processes of the universe. It’s found throughout the physical realm, but also distinct. It exists above the makeup of the physical plane, in a plane of its own. Think of it like magical power flowing freely throughout the world. And technically, its strongest source is on its own plane.”

“While we do know about it, and can tap into it, it’s incredibly difficult to harness,” Jackson picked up the explanation as Eleonora faltered, looking lost on how to put this in more layman’s terms. “Think of it this way. Technically, the largest deposit of gold in the world is in the ocean, right? But there’s no concentration of it to be found anywhere, just small granules floating about freely. Despite us knowing it’s there, it’s too difficult to collect, so we don’t choose to focus on that source when we want gold. We go looking for concentrated deposits of ore.”

“So aether is literally everywhere, vital to life, but too hard to harness to make it a viable power source of any sort.” I nodded, showing that I understood. “Got it. And yet they did that here? Were they drawing on the aether all around us, or did they somehow tap into the aether plane?”

Eleonora’s voice faintly responded, “That is a very excellent question. No idea. There’re strangely no directions with it. Or at least, not directions I’m accustomed to reading.”

“But the circles around the sigils, and the lines connecting them, that must mean something,” Jackson protested.

Now, see, I thought so too. It looked very much like a magic circle to me, something I’d seen hundreds of times depicted either in books or in media. Granted, entertainment wasn’t the best source for realistic magic, but still. Looked like a magic circle to me. “Jackson, out of curiosity, did the ancient Imagineers understand things like power sources, engines, that sort of thing?”

“Not…in the sense you mean it. They were as limited by the technology of their time as we are. They didn’t think of things along the lines of ‘build a machine.’” His hands rose in illustration, gesturing as much as he spoke. “Their machines were more simplistic, and they relied mostly on magic to make things function. That, or common sense.”

“Which is why the highway system is so weird for its time, because there’s nothing simple about it, and it breaks all the rules?”

He nodded in fervent agreement. “Exactly. Although now that I know they powered it by aether, it oddly makes sense. It would have been a more natural power source for them to use instead of, say, solar. Using the elements alone to power something wouldn’t be something they’d think they could do.”

James, who was working on the left side of the platform, immediately protested in a carrying voice. “Now wait just a minute, people have been using wind to power water pumps and grain grinders since 500 B.C.!”

“Yes, but that’s different,” Jackson argued back. “They were using force to propel something, they weren’t harnessing energy and then using that energy to power a machine. It’s not the same principle.”

“Boys,” Eleonora said soothingly, waving them down with both of her hands. “Focus back on this, please. You can debate that later. Jackson, you think it makes sense for them to have used the aether for power?”

“Think about it,” he urged, his gestures getting wilder. “The Amazon River is right there and yet it’s not close enough to use. They weren’t tapping into the power of the river. Most of the platforms are in similar positions, close to a river, and yet not tapping into it at all. Why?”

A thought popped into my head and out of my mouth before I could check it. “Wouldn’t they have done that for everyone else’s benefit, though? Half the mythical creatures in the world are water-bound. They’d need to be able to travel to a platform, and rivers would be the only sure-fire way they could get here safely.”

With a crunch of boot against stone, Thais came around to sit next to me, applauding as she came. “Thank you, Reagan, exactly the point I was going to make. I think the river nearby is just for convenience. It shouldn’t be taken into account for powering anything.”

Jackson’s head dropped as he hunched in on himself, groaning in frustration. “But surely collecting aether to power the platform would be the hardest way to do this!”

“Not if they somehow tapped into the aetheric plane itself,” Thais pointed out. “And we have no idea if they were doing that or not.”

“Reaching into the aether plane is even harder,” Jackson bemoaned, sinking into himself further. “I’d have an easier time believing these glass tubes were here to collect the natural aether.”

“Like collecting bugs?” I asked, then clamped my mouth shut.

Too late, as it turned out, although Eleonora at least found it funny. She hooted with laughter. Jackson lifted his head enough to give me a dirty look. I stretched my mouth in a parody of a grin and shrugged. My mouth regularly betrayed me. It was a thing. I didn’t even question it anymore.

Thais’s laptop rested near the top of the ramp, connected to a long extension cord to keep it powered while we inputted information. It gave a ring as a Skype call came through, and she got up to answer it.

Struck by a thought, I scooted a little closer toward the edge, leaning in. “Wait, but if it really was collecting aether from all around, then why’s it out of juice right now? I mean, far as we can tell, there’s no damage to the structure, right?”

“Which is part of the mystery. I assumed the sigil was drawing power from somewhere else, something that got cut off, but…” Jackson trailed off, catching his bottom lip with his teeth and thinking hard. He pulled up the tablet in his lap, entering in a few things with a swish of his pen, then frowned down at the result. “I hate to say this, but it really looks like they tapped into the aether plane—”

Someone’s hand grabbed my shoulder sharply and I turned, almost falling sideways, instinctively protesting, “Hey! Thais, what—”

“It’s Mitsuki-sama, answer it now,” she ordered, eyes too wide in her face. “Go, go, go! ZOYA!”

Uh-oh. I didn’t like the look of this at all. Scrambling, almost scraping my palms on the rough stone, I got to my feet and sprinted for the laptop, skidding a little on the dew-slick grass as I stopped in front of the laptop. I had to bend down, as the screen wasn’t quite at eye-level, my heart thudding like a bass drum in my chest. Please let it not be Nana, please let it not be Nana, please, oh please, oh please.

Mitsuki was on the other side, apparently sitting inside my house—I recognized his surroundings very well. He sat in the library, Nana at his side, and I nearly collapsed in relief to see her hale and hearty next to him, albeit worried. Her expression looked pinched, like something had gone unexpectedly wrong. “What’s happened?”

“Reagan-san, is Zoya-sensei nearby?”

“Yeah, she’s coming,” I assured Mitsuki, looking up automatically to track my master, only to find she’d covered most of the distance already. She hopped off the platform to stand at my side, crowding in close so we could both be seen. “What’s going on?”

“Your father has stepped through one of the portals.”

I blinked at Mitsuki, my reality turning slowly sideways, like one of those fun house floors at a carnival. I absolutely could not have heard that right. Mitsuki looked dead serious, though, somber and tense, his mouth a flat line.

“How?” Zoya demanded. “And where is he?”

“We’re not sure how. We just received the notification from the Jaadoo ka Ghar clan that he’d come through some two hours ago. At first, they were torn about erasing his memory and sending him back through, or investigating how he’d done it at all. But then he said his full name, and their Imagineer made the connection between him and you. You are, after all, well known at this point, Reagan-san, and every Imagineer is following the progress of this project closely. They wish to know what we want them to do.”

“I can’t begin to answer that question,” I answered hoarsely, my head spinning with the implications. “I mean, he doesn’t even believe in fairy tales. He’s probably having a fit right now, surrounded by the magical world.”

“That’s my worry as well,” Nana agreed unhappily. “Rea, I know we agreed to not tell your parents anything but, honey…I think the cat’s out of the bag on that one. I can’t imagine he’s taking this well, but at the very least, I think you need to go speak to him.”

“We also need to figure out where he came in from.” Zoya gave me a concerned glance. “If he portaled, that means he found an active platform, and we need to know where that is. Jaadoo ka Ghar, you said. India?”

“He was on a dig in Khopadi,” I filled in, mind still whirling. Crap, crap, crap. Fudgesickles. What do I do?!

Nana still watched me with open worry. “He’s in New Delhi now. Rea, I know it would be better if I talked to him, but I think this is better done in person.”

“The clan holding him is perfectly willing to hand him over to you, but they’re not inclined to let us manage this from a distance,” Mitsuki added, tone a touch sour. “I think they’re concerned about other people accidentally using the portal, as it apparently leads near their clan territory. I can’t say their concern is invalid.”

“So, really, they want us there for two reasons.” Turning to me, Zoya said simply, “We need to go.”

I blew out a heavy breath, feeling a decade older. “Yeah. Yeah, we need to. Nana, can you get us three tickets to New Delhi? Fast as you can. We’ll pack up and head for the airport.”

“Of course, kiddo. Go. And call me once you’ve arrived and start talking to your father. I do want to be part of the conversation.”

“I will,” I promised her, meaning every word. I so did not want to deal with him by myself. For one thing, I really had no idea how to approach this.

“I’ll email you the flight details.” Nana made a shooing gesture and then ended the call.

Having my marching orders, I went back to Jackson first, making sure he had pictures of the finished-and-ready-for-upload sketches. I needed to take my notebook with me. It held too much information I required, so I couldn’t leave it with him.

Then it was all a rush from there. Word spread throughout the camp about what was going on, and more than a few gave me either sympathetic looks or words of encouragement as I quickly packed up.

We were back in Thais’s SUV and on our way to the airport within an hour, which was impressive, considering. This time, we didn’t have Eleonora with us, just Zoya and Ciarán along for the ride. I couldn’t focus on the emotional aspect of this trip, or that I would be seeing India for the first time under less than favorable circumstances. And I didn’t want to focus on speaking to my father about something he’d always casually dismissed.

Oh man, did I ever not want to think about that.

Right, I had a twenty-something hour flight coming up. Let’s think about that later. For now, how about the mechanics of this. “Do either of you remember if we had a platform marked near Khopadi?”

“We do now.”

I glared at Ciarán, lounging at his ease in the back seat with me. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. That was not my question. Did we know about one being in that area?”

Zoya twisted in the front seat to look back at me. “Why does it make a difference to you?”

“Here’s the thing. I don’t remember there being one marked there. And believe me, I think I’d remember it. I’ve been very careful to keep my parents separated from the magical world, and if someone had reported a platform there? I’d have freaked right out. That would have been too close for comfort. So if there’s a platform near an archaeological dig, then the clan over there is exactly right to be worried, because other archaeologists are going to be looking for my missing father, sure. But they’ll also be continuing the work, and that means potentially more trouble.”

“But surely they’ve turned the one in New Delhi off…” Ciarán paused mid-sentence as all three of us shot him weary looks. “Ah. I take it you don’t know how to do that?”

“We don’t even understand how they’re powered, much less how they operate. We can put them in standby, certainly, by touching the symbols. But truly turning them off isn’t possible. As long as it’s got power running to it, they can accidentally activate it again,” Thais informed him, glancing up in the rear-view mirror to meet his eyes briefly.

“They’ll expect us to know how, since we’re the ones studying it,” Zoya muttered, mostly in a rhetorical fashion. “It won’t go over well that we can’t. Thais, where’s your phone?”

“Cup holder.”

Zoya picked it up and dialed in a number, her fingers beating a staccato beat on the dash as she waited for someone to pick up. “James? No, we haven’t forgot anything, we belatedly realized something. While we’re flying there, you and Jackson have to figure out how to turn a platform off. Well, we have Nixes accidentally coming through—into a clan’s territory, no less. Yes, you see my point. I’m sure they’ll want us to do that, at least in the interim. I know. No, I don’t want to dismantle it either, which is why I’m asking you to figure it out. Okay. Thank you.”

I gleaned most of what I needed to know from that conversation and sent up a prayer they’d be able to figure it out. Although I wondered, wouldn’t removing the glass vials from the power cells do it? Or would dismantling them bring about different trouble on our heads? Just as well Zoya thought to ask and have them figure it out while we traveled.

My mind sank back to the worry of how to handle the confrontation with my father and I barely bit back a curse. Once, just once, I wanted things to go according to plan.

I sat on the plane, turning my phone over and over again in my hands. It was turned off, of course, but I could remember with crystal clarity every word Mitsuki had said to me.

Your father has stepped through one of the portals.

My father, who had no faith in magic of any sort, who only believed in the allure of the hidden past. My father, who was infinitely practical in every way. My father, who I really barely knew, as I hardly ever saw him. Even when he was home, he wasn’t. He was in his study, arranging the details of his next dig, unpacking or packing, barely able to sit down and actually have dinner with me. How was I supposed to talk to him when he wasn’t in the habit of listening to me? How could I be there to support him through this when we didn’t even have a relationship?

Nana wasn’t in any sort of physical condition to go and deal with her son. Of course it was up to me, I understood that. I just didn’t know what I was supposed to do with him.

Zoya’s cool hand clasped mine, stilling my fidgeting. I turned to her and found her eyes sympathetic on mine. “Did I tell you, Reagan, of when I became an Imagineer?”

Interest caught, I shook my head.

“I was like you, in a way. I came from a Nix family, though it was a little different, as the Russians are very superstitious. They at least believed in forces they couldn’t see. Still, they struggled to accept it. I was careful who I told the full truth to, knowing who could be trusted with the secret, and who couldn’t. It was part of the reason why Ivan and I moved to America. We needed to be away from everyone in order to have the space to really grow. The distance allows us to hide what we need to.” Her expression became bittersweet, smile a little sad. “I do miss them, of course, but I had a choice to make. I chose not to live within their limitations.”

Remembering my recent arguments with Tabitha, I understood what she meant by that. “Yeah. Lies never work out in your favor. I gotcha.”

“Yes.” She paused, still watching me, although her expression shifted into something harder. “Reagan, my sweet apprentice, I’m very angry with both of your parents.”

Looking into those kind eyes, I said something I normally didn’t allow myself to think.

“I am too. I don’t think I realized, really realized, how wrong it was of them to leave me behind until I came into the clan. Nana did her best, but most of my life she’s had bad health. She was in and out of hospitals and recovery centers. I didn’t have her on a day-to-day basis. Now, knowing what it’s like to have people who prioritize my happiness and well-being….” I trailed off, choking on tears, struggling to keep them at bay. Ciarán, on my other side, slipped an arm around my shoulders and hugged me in silent support. “I always told myself my parents loved me. Maybe they do, in their very selfish ways. But they should never have left me alone.”

“No,” Zoya agreed gently. A tremor of anger threaded through her words, hard and crisp. “How long have you lived by yourself?”

“Since I was fourteen.”

I could feel myself turn brittle, my pain sharpening like daggers as she swore viciously in Russian. Ciarán did the same in Gaelic. I’d known it to be illegal, even when they’d left, but seeing their reactions just nailed in that point even more. “The first year they were gone, Nana lived with me with an in-house nurse. But it was too much for any one person to handle. She demanded we take her home to Oregon. I think she felt if she moved me to her hometown, and her into a full-care facility, it would hammer the situation into my parents’ heads. That they’d realize they could no longer focus on their careers, that someone needed to stay with me until I at least graduated high school. But it didn’t. They just moved both of us and left again. I didn’t even see them for most of the move—they hired professional movers and bought the house over the internet.”

Zoya swore some more, and I think if she’d had alcohol at hand, she’d have downed a few shots. “Are they that focused on themselves?”

“Yeah.” I rubbed at my eyes, not sure if I wanted to talk about this anymore. Still, she deserved to have a very clear picture of what we were walking into. “You have to understand, they’re both workaholics. When I was younger, they made sure they were home for holidays. One of them was always gone, my dad more than my mom, as his digs sometimes took years. He’d come home precisely three weeks out of the year. Two for Christmas, and a week in spring for his birthday. And that was it. Ever since I can remember, I’ve only seen him twice a year. When I was about eight, Mom left me more and more with Nana, and she went back to working overseas too. I see her for about the same amount of time per year. If you add up all the time I’ve spent with my father…it’s probably a year altogether. And I know there’s kids who only get to see a parent two or three weeks out of the year, I’m not complaining about that, it’s just…”

“No, it’s different,” Zoya immediately disagreed. “Your father isn’t deployed in the military, isn’t court-ordered to only have certain visitation rights with you. He isn’t withheld from you. He chose to not be part of your life. That is different. You are not wrong to be angry with him.”

“It’s insane,” Ciarán muttered, mostly rhetorically. “I don’t understand their attitude at all. How can they not want you?”

My throat felt too constricted to swallow. I nodded shallowly, as that was the problem entirely. He chose not to.

“How did no one realize this?” Zoya demanded of me. “Surely one of the adults in your life must have realized you were in the house alone.”

I gave her a sorry excuse for a smile. “I’m a good student who has her crap together, Mactep. I had Nana to handle the parental signatures. I was careful in what I told her, so she wouldn’t worry. No one looked past the surface. It was actually very easy to keep up a front so that no one thought anything was wrong.”

I think my answer made her want to go bash heads in. I decided to move past this point, as I wasn’t sure my poor mangled heart could take any more of this.

“But you see my problem, right? I don’t really know my father. I don’t know how to handle him. He’s practical, he doesn’t believe in anything fantastical, and I doubt he’ll be able to take this well. All of a sudden, everything he thought he knew is turned on its head. I’m not sure if he’ll be able to accept it.”

Zoya spoke with careful neutrality. “Will he listen to you?”

“I have no flippin’ clue.” My head gave painful, sharp twinges at my temples and I pulled my hands free to rub at both of them. “He trusts me to be responsible, at least; he’s used to listening to me report if there’s something wrong. But our emails and Skype calls to each other never last more than a half-hour. He doesn’t have a lot to say to me. Will he listen? That’s the question.”

She pursed her lips, looking forward blindly as she considered all I’d said. This was another huge difference between my Mactep and my parents. She didn’t just listen to a report, she asked for my opinions and feelings, taking all of that into consideration as she made her own conclusions. Why couldn’t I have had her as a parent? Zoya and Ivan would have been awesome.

Interrupting the thought, she whispered to me, “I’m not sure if you realize this, but you have the final say in what we do about your father.”

I blinked at her. “Say what?”

“Because only he stepped through, we can easily erase his memories and deposit him back at his worksite. Close the gate, prevent him from doing this accidentally again, and problem solved. You can return right back to the status quo.”

“Holy cow, seriously?!” I demanded, voice rising.

She waved me down, indicating I was too loud. “But only if you’re sure it’s the right thing to do.”

Abashed, I lowered my voice again to a whisper. I didn’t really want the other passengers on the plane listening in on this conversation. “I’m not sure if it is, I’ll need to talk to him first and see how he’s taking this. Honestly, if I had even one parent who understood what I’ve become, it would be easier. Less arguments about me going to college, anyway. They’re dead set that I get a college education. If he’s not kosher with this, though, I’m perfectly okay with erasing his memory and shooing him off back to work. If I have a giant reset button, I’ll use it.”

Zoya cautioned, “If you choose that option, you won’t be able to tell him the truth later. We only give people one chance to accept the magical community. Trying it multiple times never works out well.”

I waved this concern away. “The man just stepped through a gateway that plopped him into a different city. If that fails to convince him, there’s no point in trying further. And if it’s rattled him so badly it threatens his sanity, then I really don’t want to keep trying. No point. Mactep, it’s not really a matter of lying to my parents. As long as I hit certain milestones, and don’t murder anyone or max out any credit cards, they don’t care what I do. I resigned myself long ago that I’m not going to be able to share a future with them. I love them, but they’re not part of my life.”

“Alright. We’ll wait and see which approach to take. Will you try to convince him?”

“I might give it a shot, yeah, but honestly, I have better odds of winning a lottery than changing his mind about anything.” Talking about this had unraveled the tangle of thoughts in my head and I felt better about things. Not good, but better. I think my parents’ disregard would always leave a scar, but I wasn’t going to let that warp or destroy me. I had love and support from both of the people with me, which was novel enough, and it gave me the emotional grounding I needed. I now had a plan of how to move forward, and Zoya was on the same page, which meant I had backup. All good things. Hopefully Nana saw it the same way we did.

After that, I tried to sleep, but mostly failed. And that wasn’t a good thing. The flight from Sao Paulo to New Delhi, where my father was being held at the moment, was over twenty hours long. I really needed to sleep, but only managed to doze off once or twice. I just couldn’t sleep upright, and the seats didn’t recline much, which left me uncomfortable.

We arrived at the New Delhi airport with me feeling like something the cat had dragged in. My eyes were raw and grainy feeling from the lack of sleep, my energy levels somewhere in the sub-zeroes, and I held no expectations of being able to catch a quick nap before getting thrown into the thick of things.

Ciarán, bless him, took my backpack from me and carried it on his own shoulder as we exited the plane. I made sure to stay with him and Zoya. New Delhi’s airport was massive. I had no intention of getting lost here.

To my relief, as we exited the plane, almost every sign in the airport had an English translation. A little reassured I couldn’t get as lost, I kept walking, taking a good look around me as I went. The airport seemed to like white as a theme—white tiles, white walls, white ceilings that soared a good fifty feet overhead. It was all very modern looking with the concrete and glass everywhere.

Customs took a good half-hour, but we got through it and finally escaped out the doors into the very humid, very hot air outside. Zoya stepped out onto the curb, signaling to the next taxi in line waiting on customers. The driver popped the trunk, switching the sign over from green to red, although I couldn’t read what it said. Hired, maybe? The car wasn’t at all what I expected, this little black thing that looked almost European, with a bright yellow top and a luggage rack strapped on.

Throwing things into the trunk, we climbed in, Zoya in the front so she could direct the driver on where to go. I climbed into the back, more than startled by the interior. The inside was not the typical, demure black upholstery. Depictions of temples, umbrellas, rain, a goddess, hands in various poses, and suns were all around me in the brightest colors imaginable. It was like an assault to the senses, especially with the sweet incense smell.

I’d barely settled myself when the taxi took off in a screech of tires. Leaning into Ciarán’s side, I asked quietly, “Is this normal for a taxi in India?”

“No idea,” he admitted to me cheerfully. “First time I’ve been in India.”

Well. There went that. Shrugging, I decided to just take the experience in and watched the city pass us as our insane taxi driver darted in and out of traffic. This place was crowded, and if there was any sort of organization to it, I didn’t see it. Almost every building was at least four stories, and while the building itself might be white, something colorful was always attached. Red awnings over the windows, bright advertisements in different languages (including English) hanging on the edges, all sorts of telephone and electric wires strewn out like someone had taken the cables and tossed them willy-nilly over the rooftops to land haphazardly. It was overwhelming, frankly, and I was so, so glad I wasn’t driving.

It took us a good hour to fight through traffic, dodging pedestrians, other cars, and the rickshaws as we went. But eventually we pulled up in front of a building that must have been our destination. Well, I should say the gate to the building. Through the black iron fence, past the security guards (gargoyles with a glamour on that made them appear like burly humans), a square villa rested on a perfectly manicured lawn. It was…not what I’d expected of an Indian building, frankly. No arches, no towers, not a single curve in sight. It was all squares and clean lines with multiple entrances on each side. It looked massive just from my angle. I couldn’t imagine being inside it.

The taxi driver popped the trunk, Zoya paid him with a credit card, and we all got out. I took charge of my backpack again, feeling myself slide into that odd punch-drunk stage when I hadn’t gotten enough sleep. False energy, but I’d take it, as I couldn’t curl up and sleep for eighteen hours just yet. Facing the guards, I gave them a duck of the head and dredged up a smile. “Hi. I’m Reagan Hunt, Imagineer from Mononoke Clan.”

Their eyes flared wide in recognition and they both gave me a respectful bow in return. “Welcome,” the one on the left said, dark eyes flicking over me curiously from head-to-toe. “We’ve been expecting you. Your companions?”

“Yes, this is Ciarán and my master, Zoya.”

“Welcome,” he repeated to the other two with another bow. “Please, come with me. I will escort you. San, call it in.”

His colleague nodded and lifted a walkie-talkie to his mouth, muttering into it.

We walked through the gate, and only then did I think to question, how hairy-scary was my hair right now? I’d not slept, but I’d tried, and my hair goes weird angles when I lay on it for any length of time. I probably looked a mess right then, as I still wore mascara I’d put on over thirty hours ago. Not the best first impression to give, but surely they understood. After twenty hours of traveling overnight, everyone looked done-in.

We went through the main Door, into a very nice foyer with white tiles and walls, planted palms and ferns breaking up the monotony of all the white. Seriously, what was it about this country and white? Almost before I could get through the Door, a large bird came toward us, walking on thin, long legs. It was incredibly gorgeous, a small delicate head of white melting into a sunset hue of colors to the tail, where the feathers became a cascade of pure white that shimmered and glittered like they were touched by gold. I had no idea what he (she?) was. Indian mythology was one of my weak points.

“Welcome,” the bird said in a trilling voice that sounded like a musical instrument, sweet and high. “I am Aesha, clan leader of Jaadoo ka Ghar.”

Zoya bowed respectfully before introducing us all. “I am Zoya Mikahilov, Imagineer of Mononoke Clan. With me is my apprentice, Reagan Hunt, and her protector, Ciarán. Thank you very much for inviting us in.”

“We did not think it wise to do otherwise,” Aesha responded, head turning slightly to the side so she could watch us from one eye. “We do not wish disharmony with any clan, and especially as this involves a young Imagineer’s family, we felt it best you handle the matter yourself. If you would like, I will take you directly to him?”

“Please,” I requested.

“Then follow me.” Turning with a soft swish of her tail, she delicately walked ahead of us, leading us into the right hallway. “I assure you we have made sure he is comfortable with us. We have explained nothing, told him of nothing, and he is very agitated. We were forced to give him a sleeping sedative so he did not resort to anything foolish.”

“We appreciate your care,” Zoya answered steadily.

I winced, imagining how poorly that must have gone down. Still, what other option did she have?

Stopping in front of a room, she nodded to the creature on guard there. Another I didn’t recognize, with the body of a lion and the head of an elephant. I certainly wouldn’t choose to mess with him, as he looked battle-hardened with scars. He opened the door with his trunk, eyeing us curiously as we stepped through.

Well, as I stepped through. Everyone encouraged me to go first. Blowing out a breath, I squared my shoulders. It was a comfortable-looking room, still with the all-white scheme, plants in the corners, and a large, canopied bed in the center of it. My father sat in an armchair next to a window, looking dusty and very out of place. He wore his working clothes—a pair of cargo pants that had seen better days, work boots, and a thin cotton shirt. There were light, sandy dust marks along his bronze skin, sand caught in the tight weave of his short black hair. It was like he’d just stepped off of his dig site only a moment ago, which in a sense, was the case.

His head came up as I stepped through and for a moment, he looked at me blankly. His dark eyes were wide behind his coke-bottle glasses, not at all able to understand how I could appear like this in front of him. I set my backpack down next to the door, out of the way, and came all the way through. Seven months since I’d seen him last, and he hadn’t changed much in that time. I didn’t realize how I’d worried about him until I saw him well. It was strange seeing him in person, though. So often I’d only had him over a screen. A living, breathing version of him hit me right in the feels, both good and bad.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Reagan?” he queried in absolute disbelief. Rising from his chair, he looked me over again from head-to-toe, as if doubting his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, about that.” Rubbing at the back of my neck, I gave him a rueful smile. “We need to talk.”

“B-but,” he spluttered, still stuck on this point, “how are you here?”

“I got on a plane. How do you think I got here?” Shaking my head, I turned to the two with me. “Can I talk to him alone?”

“Of course,” Zoya assured me with a hard look at my father. “I’m sure our hosts have a room for us to rest in. Pandit Aesha, may we impose upon you?”

“An Imagineer is always welcome as a guest,” Aesha assured her in that trilling manner.

“Many thanks.” Zoya moved to leave but turned back and jabbed a finger at my father. “For once in her life, I expect you to properly listen to her. You’re a piss-poor father, you don’t deserve her pity, in my opinion. Still, she wants to help you and give you the option. Listen.” With her piece said, she nodded to me in support before leaving.

Ciarán gave him the same dark look and murmured for my ears alone, “I’ll wait outside. Call if you need me.”

“I will.” Taking a breath, I walked over to the chairs and my father. I felt like I’d been doing a lot of sitting, so really I’d prefer to stand for a while, but Dad looked like a newborn giraffe. He was so shaky on his legs I expected him to just topple over any second. For his sake, I wanted him to sit. I had no faith I could catch him if he fainted.

He sat too, in the chair facing mine, hands clasping and unclasping in a nervous gesture. Staring at me, he swallowed hard. “Why are you here?”

“Because you stumbled into a magical clan. And I’m now part of the magical world.” I really didn’t know how to begin to explain this, despite rehearsing it in my head.

“But—” he cut himself off, shaking his head like he was trying to orient himself and failing. “Magical clan?”

“Right. Think of them like tribes, only they’re made up of all different types of races. I’m one of them, as I’m a magician. The two people you saw with me are members of my clan.”

His expression, so contorted with confusion, said he wasn’t able to wrap his head around this at all. “You’re allied with such creatures?”

“The world is not as you know it, Dad,” I answered steadily. “It never has been. I’m going to explain to you exactly what it’s like, and I need you to listen.”

Those dark brown eyes stared straight at me, and I could see he was still nervous, still mentally reeling, but for once in my life, I had his full attention. Seeing that, I started talking. I started with my own experience of gradually seeing glimpses of the other world integrated with our own. How my sight fully came in as my Imagineer powers fully awakened. What an Imagineer was. How the magical clans were organized and stayed connected to each other worldwide. I kept it simple, basic, and still I felt I overloaded him with information.

Maurice Hunt, Professor of Ancient Indian Studies, sat there like a child who’d been told Santa really was real. Or maybe he was waiting for the punch line. He stared at me, unblinking for a long moment. “It’s all true?”

“Well, there’s some gaps between legend and fact,” I admitted. “I’m still figuring out how much of a gap. But magic is real, yes.”

“And that dark-haired man with you, and the older woman who was so belligerent with me?”

“My pooka guardian and my Imagineer master, Zoya. Respectively.”

“Pooka?”

“Irish fairy. Very fierce.” Was he accepting this or not? I really couldn’t tell.

“Oh.” He sat still again, staring at me as if he’d never seen me before. “Why are you here to tell me?”

“Because I’m an Imagineer. Still in training, but an Imagineer. Think of us like magical ambassadors. We’re welcome throughout the world, and often called on to solve problems. When you told them who you were, they assumed you must be related to me somehow and invited me over to deal with you.” I really couldn’t tell how he was taking this. He seemed so knocked off his axis, but he was still asking good, logical questions at the same time.

“So now that you’ve explained…” he trailed off, glancing uneasily toward the door. “Will they let me go?”

“That depends, Dad.” Here came the hard part. “You’ve got a choice to make. You’ve got one of two options available to you. Either you accept the magical world, like Nana and I did, and become a part of it. Or, if this is too much for your sanity, you don’t have to accept it. We’ll wipe your memory of the past forty-eight hours and drop you back off at your worksite. You can go right back to your life like nothing’s happened.”

Swallowing hard, he whispered, “Like a giant reset button?”

“Just like it.” I hoped, I prayed, that for once in my life he didn’t choose ignorance. For once, I wanted him to choose to see me with eyes wide open. I felt like my heart was trying to squeeze out of my throat as I asked him the dreaded question: “What do you want to do?”

Dad sat there for a long time, staring at nothing. He sat so still I wasn’t sure if he even breathed. His body fetched up against his knees as if he were slumping in on himself, unable to bear up under all these world-changing revelations. He looked shell-shocked in the worst sense. My question echoed between us in the silence. On the plane, I hadn’t known which way he’d jump, and even facing him now, still didn’t. In his shoes, I couldn’t imagine going back to ignorance. Of ignoring reality just because it didn’t conform with what I’d been raised to believe. That seemed anathema to me.

But it might be too much for him to handle. It might be such a shock he couldn’t take it in. If that was the case, I promised myself I’d respect his decision. It was his life, after all, not mine.

When the silence stretched out into minutes, I realized this wasn’t going to be an easy yes/no for him. Clearing my throat, I got his attention and asked tentatively, “Do you want to sleep on it? You don’t need to answer me right away.”

Dad looked back at me as if he’d never seen me before. “You told me that when you first noticed odd things, you investigated it. You kept at it until you figured it out. It didn’t scare you?”

Of all the things to ask, why this? “Well, yeah. I’d heard enough stories from Nana over the years that I knew the dangers. Mythological stories are very clear on the warnings of tampering with anything supernatural without due caution. But mostly I was excited. I really wanted magic to be real.”

“And it is real,” he said, as if providing an answer to some complicated logic puzzle.

“It’s very, very real.” I canted my head at him, waiting him out a little longer. I was beyond tired. We’d traveled a lot in the past twenty-four hours and I hadn’t been able to sleep at all on the plane. Not even doze. I wanted to lay flat somewhere and stretch out, get some sleep. But until I had him settled, I couldn’t do that.

He kept staring at me, but the confusion in his face firmed into determination. “I’ve spent the better part of my life digging into history, uncovering forgotten events. Uncovering truth. What kind of an archaeologist would I be if I chose to ignore something right in front of my eyes?”

That sounded like an answer to me. Relief past what words could express ran through me that he wasn’t going to choose that reset button. His logic was, as ever, self-serving but I felt resigned to that at this point. I hoped because of this, I’d at least be able to have an honest connection with him later. “You sure?”

“Yes. Heaven help me, yes.” He passed a hand over his face, looking beyond weary. It aged him, and not in a good way. “I want to speak with your grandmother. And what are you planning to do with your mother?”

“I hadn’t intended to tell either one of you. It’s not like it would impact either of you day-to-day anyway.”

He dipped his chin, accepting this as truth. “I suppose we tell her if we feel like she needs to know. I’m not sure how she’ll feel about all this.”

I was inclined to think she’d take it on more readily than he had, but that didn’t seem the right thing to say at the moment. He was already dealing with enough at the moment. I could press this point later. “Let me pop out and tell everyone what your decision is.”

He stayed me with a hand, curiosity rearing its head. “Why would they call you?”

“What?”

“When I was discovered, they immediately brought me in here and locked me in. They told me my daughter would come and sort this out. Why would they call you? Is it really up to you, what happens to me?”

Oh. Uhhh…how to explain this. “Yes and no. When they learned your last name, and connected it to me, they automatically called me as a courtesy. You’re technically of my clan, Mononoke Clan, because of your relation to me. I was given oversight in your case.”

He was back to staring at me like he didn’t even know me. “I don’t know what to think about that.”

“Takes some getting used to,” I acknowledged ruefully. And it was time to escape the possible pitfalls this conversation headed for. I popped up and opened the door, sticking my head out and finding the guard and Ciarán waiting in the hallway. They’d been idly chatting but abruptly cut themselves off. “Hey. So, Dad’s decided against the reset button.”

Ciarán looked torn about this but nodded. “Okay. I’ll inform Zoya. We’ll need to discuss what to do next. He’s reported missing, according to the Nix authorities.”

Yeah, I’d figured. This would prove fun to untangle. “We’ll make a cover story up for him. But for now…food? And I really want a nap.”

“We all really want a nap,” Ciarán assured me, meaning the words fervently. “Our hosts are arranging rooms near this one for us.”

I turned to the guard and gave him a smile. “I owe you guys for this. Thanks for your patience.”

He inclined his head in a bow toward me. “Not at all, Imagineer. It is our pleasure to help you in this difficult situation.”

Well, that was nice of him. Probably not true, but nice regardless. “Thank you. I promised Nana I’d call her as soon as we got things straightened out. My cell’s on the verge of dying, I need to charge it.

“She’d likely prefer Skype anyway. Let’s get our host’s internet connection information and let your father and grandmother speak.”

That sounded like a much better idea. And Nana could catch him up on more than the basics. I wanted sleep so badly right now I could cry.

It took more time than I cared for to get Dad sorted. The room designated for me was right next door to his, which I made sure to tell him before I left him to talk to Nana. It was a near mirror image to his room, all whites and creams and clean lines. Someone kindly sent up a tray for me filled with lovely naan, chicken korma, and basmati rice. I nearly licked the plate clean. Only when I was done eating did I trudge into the en-suite bathroom, take off what remained of my makeup, and change into something I hadn’t been wearing for twenty-six hours straight. In loose shorts and t-shirt, I shuffled to the four-poster bed, pulled the mosquito netting over me, and went out like a light.

After what felt like five minutes, a hand roughly shook me awake. I tried swatting at the hand, grumbling and snuggling harder into my pillow.

“Nyet, now,” Zoya demanded, shaking harder.

Error 10534: Message not comprehended. Recipient too jet-lagged to think. Brain buffering.

Zoya climbed onto the bed and started shaking me like a rag doll. “Up, Reagan!”

My friend Sleep deserted me, leaving me with gritty eyes and a hollow feeling in my core. I pried my mouth open enough to get the words out against the pillow case. “Can’t this wait a few more hours? I’m tired.”

“You’re too young to be tired.”

I hated it when older people said ‘you’re too young to be tired.’ Alright, well, you’re too old to be alive but here we are.

As if she thought this would prod me awake, she added, “We have a problem.”

“Mactep, we’ve had nothing but problems,” I whined at her. “NOW what?”

“Two of your father’s colleagues accidentally stepped through the portal and are here,” she reported briskly. Her hand latched onto my shoulder and hauled me up.

I whimpered because I didn’t want to deal with more panicking and confused Nixes. “Great. Tell me there’s good news.”

“Jackson thinks he knows how to turn the portal off.”

My brain rebooted enough to do the math on this. If I got up now, turned off the portals, sorted the other archaeologists and got them back to the worksite, I could prevent further problems. Further problems that kept me from this lovely, cloud-like bed. If I ignored said problems, I’d be jerked awake in a few hours with potentially more, worse problems. Getting up now still left the possibility of sleep in my near future.

Now it is.

A shout out to two very helpful ladies, Anna and Elena, who are my Russian experts for this series. They helpfully filled in both Russian vocabulary and culture, making my characters more on point. A huge thanks to my beta readers—you know who you are—who told me point blank I couldn’t cliffhang THERE. Thanks to them, this story not only has a different ending, but a different beginning. Thank you for all your valuable feedback.

RUSSIAN

Da - yes

Devushka – girl

Durochka – silly, stupid child (female form)

Horosho - good

Koldunia – magician who uses spells and incantations (female form)

Njet – no

MAGICAL RACES

A comprehensive list of the magical races referenced in this book is available on Honor’s website at www.honorraconteur.com.

Other books by Honor Raconteur
Published by Raconteur House

♫ Available in Audiobook! ♫

THE ADVENT MAGE CYCLE

Jaunten ♫
Magus ♫
Advent ♫
Balancer ♫

ADVENT MAGE NOVELS
Advent Mage Compendium
The Dragon’s Mage ♫
The Lost Mage

WARLORDS (ADVENT MAGE)

Warlords Rising
Warlords Ascending
Warlords Reigning

THE ARTIFACTOR SERIES

The Child Prince ♫
The Dreamer’s Curse ♫
The Scofflaw Magician
The Canard Case

THE CASE FILES OF HENRI DAVENFORTH

Magic and the Shinigami Detective
Charms and Death and Explosions (oh my)

DEEPWOODS SAGA

Deepwoods ♫
Blackstone
Fallen Ward

Origins

FAMILIAR AND THE MAGE

The Human Familiar
The Void Mage
Remnants
Echoes

GÆLDORCRÆFT FORCES

Call to Quarters

IMAGINEER SERIES

Imagineer

KINGMAKERS

Arrows of Change ♫
Arrows of Promise
Arrows of Revolution

KINGSLAYER

Kingslayer ♫
Sovran at War ♫

SINGLE TITLES

Special Forces 01
Midnight Quest

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~Honor

Honor Raconteur is a sucker for a good fantasy. Despite reading it for decades now, she’s never grown tired of the magical world. She likely never will. In between writing books, she trains and plays with her dogs, eats far too much chocolate, and attempts insane things like aerial dance.

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