Interlude

  Bregon stumbles out of his tent. Staggering, yelling. He rushes to the gate, even though it is midday on the far side, and the way is closed.

  His lieutenants rush forward, then hesitate. His power is upon him and wild. Some of the minor fey are flung to one side as his power lashes about, seeking... something. I have never seen him like this. This is truly the legend the stories speak of. His voice echoes raw Sidhe power.

  He glares at his lieutenants. "Fools, can you not feel it? The gate has changed.

  The Dragon speaks, last to return, but has been with him the longest. “No, my lord, it is unchanged. Truly. Perhaps a dream?”

  Bregon snarls and the air ripples and burns. The Dragon braces himself and the faint smell of burning flesh reaches me.

  Bregon strides to the gate, and stares. His power taut.

  And then he laughs.

  Alien Shrew

  - Ellen -

  Initially, I had thought. Annoying, yes, but what was more annoying was Shigeto’s insistence that this was why I screamed. It wasn't. It had been something about how it moved. A strangeness that had caught my eye. A quirk of its movement was off, alien even. And then it pounced on an escaped crouton from last night’s salad, and what I saw did make me scream. Maybe even that high-pitched horror movie way, though this too was something I denied and would continue denying. The creature bit with teeth in a jaw that opened sideways, and I thought I saw a small spurt of venom. Then it inhaled, taking in the crouton that had now transformed into an oily green and red swirling gas.

  Shigeto grabbed a mason jar from the counter and, with a quick, decisive movement of the morning newspaper, flicked it within, all while I stood transfixed. He lifted it to eye level. The creature hissed at him and a bit of that green and red gas escaped to coalesce into crumbs on the glass. As the creature continued to glare ferociously at him through the glass, he commented, "Kinda looks like a shrew, what with that long snout. D’ya think it could be one? Altered by a spell or some such? Could it have something to do with what happened to Babe and Takara?"

  "Don’t mention that damn woman’s name," I shouted.

  He put his hand on mine. "I get that you’re still hurting, baby, but we have to talk about it. And you can’t go casting spells on anyone who might remind you of what happened."

  He was referring, of course, to what I’d done to David after his absurd phone call. I turned my hand, holding his calloused palm against mine. "Perhaps not."

  “Well, that’s something, anyway," he said. But I guess we should focus on our little prisoner for the moment.

  I released his hand and stepped towards it. Closing my eyes, I let my awareness expand around me. I could feel Shigeto beside me, heart just a little faster than normal, fascinated by this novel experience. I could sense the farmhouse, its warm domesticity, and around it, our farm slumbering in winter. But in the middle of this, like a jangle of discordant bells and sparking wires, was this little… creature. "No." I said shortly, and with a shocked laugh. "No, definitely not. Whatever this thing is, it is nothing like a shrew and has nothing to do with the farm or our magic. It’s waaaay too alien." My mind skittered around possible implications, but all I said was, "Let’s go to the lab."

  

  

  

  We had released it from the jar, but kept it contained within a warding circle that I’d drawn on my worktable, a massive surface of old oak planks that we found when we bought the place. It was the last remnant of the vast piles of detritus left by grandfather and subsequent owners. Most of that flotsam and jetsam had been in the basement, and after we filled three dumpsters, we found we had an enormous single room occupied only by a furnace and a corner laundry.

  It sniffed at the edge of the chalk circle, which was powered by the various symbols I’d drawn around it, but didn't attempt to cross. I could feel a little tickle in my mind, and I knew the thing was sniffing at the magic inherent in the glyphs that I’d drawn on the table. I could sense its hesitation, but then it made a sudden lunge forward. There was a flash of light, the smell of singed fur. The thing gave forth an ungodly shriek and recoiled. It hid its long snout between its feet and sort of huddled into itself while it gave forth a soft keening.

  "I thought the ward wasn’t intended to injure," said Shigeto.

  "It wasn’t," I responded, feeling guilty as hell about the poor thing. All it wanted was its freedom, like any wild creature. "It should have given him a little shock, but nothing more." I paused as I probed the ward, felt the flows of power were still turbulent within the small spell. A few of the glyphs that I’d drawn were changed, alien, even. I concentrated and a small sweat broke out on my forehead. With some further exertion, I reordered the energies within the circle, and watched the chalk glyphs reorder themselves. "Something weird happened when it hit the ward, some sort of odd interaction." As I spoke, I noticed that the wee beastie had taken note of my efforts and paused in its keening, distracted from its misery. It gave me a glare, withdrew to the centre of the circle. After a moment, it seemed to recover its composure and began cleaning its feet. Licks of its tongue made the dirt on its feet puff briefly to gas and then drop to the table.

  "Holy crap," said Shigeto. He was sitting on a plain bench just outside the larger, anchoring circle, which surrounded both me and the table. Ever since we’d altered Babe, I wanted to make sure that any unanticipated consequences were kept well contained. I didn’t want any neighbours pointing fingers about something like, well, this little shrew-thingy.

  "That's why I screamed," I said. "It's not every day that you see something like that."

  "Sure Hon," he said. "At least his feet will be cleaner than yours."

  "Oh, piss off," I said, without heat, but the comment still made me look down. The basement's dirt floor had chilled my bare feet. Better for spells, sure, but the floor of the basement was frigid, even in the summer, and rather horrifying in winter. Now, thankfully, my feet were quite warm. The spell work I’d done to reorder the ward had drawn on the earth’s power and it had warmed me as that energy had flowed through me. It always surprised me, that sensation of banked heat, ready to be woven into my will. When we had renovated, it had been a whim, to leave this patch and a few others bare for my magics. Everywhere else was poured concrete, but leaving these earthen spaces had proved to be inspired because of my access to the earth’s power, but also because I could grow some herbs and a few trees in the basement.

  The trees were more than greenery, though. They followed the seasons just as their outdoor sisters did. I had connected them, through deep roots, to the trees in the copse where we performed our rituals under the open sky. They flourished as the farm flourished. They provided me a deeper link to the farm outside than I could achieve with my simple contact of flesh to earth.

  I looked over at Shigeto. "Let's see if he eats like a shrew – there are some maggots…"

  "Oh great," said Shigeto. "Revenge, is it? For one little comment."

  I looked over and smiled. "But that would be so petty." I let a bit more teeth show.

  He made a face and went to the bucket where we kept them, under a small venting fan. Not pleasant, but a proper witch needs to deal with the full cycle of nature, not just the pretty flowers and fluffy bunnies. Nature is about the cycle: life and death. I heard Shigeto gag slightly as he opened the container. He brought them towards me, along with the smell. I was about to make some comment when I heard a small squeak and looked over to see the creature pacing at the edge of the ward. Apparently, it found the scent of the maggot more appealing than either of us did. While I was looking away, Shigeto dropped the slimy maggots into my palm, still slick with the smell and texture of rotting meat. He gave me a sweet smile and went to wash his hands. By the time he got back, I’d dropped them within the ward, and wiped my hands on a small towel I kept for the messier aspects of my work.

  The shrew-thingy stared fixedly at the maggots, then leapt. The fate of the first was the same as that of the crouton. The shrew-thingy lay quiescent, seemingly content. Then it burped. A small gust of the red and green gas swirled out of its snout, and then, midair, coalesced into vaguely digested looking bits of maggot which dropped to the table. This happened twice more, until it had brought up most of the maggot, and the shrew’s fur looked a little dingy. It lay down for a few moments.

  "I don’t think that our food agrees with it," said Shigeto.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  "Actually, our food seemed fine. It didn’t have this problem with the crouton."

  "But there’s not much to that — it’s processed to within an inch of its life. This was alive. So, if it’s used to some other prey, well, maybe it’s a specialist carnivore."

  "Yeah, maybe," I said, thinking. We continued to watch, fascinated. It seemed to recover a bit; then it noticed the second grub. I thought the better of it and tried to grab it, but it hissed at me, its odd jaws opening wide in a threat display, its warty tongue waggling spastically. I recoiled, jerking my hand back involuntarily, startled as much by the strangeness of the creature, as a sensible fear of that exotic venom.

  "Jesus," said Shigeto, "that was freaky. It seems partial to the maggots though. It must have some similarity to its natural food."

  There was a ferocious squeak. We watched as the pseudo-shrew attacked the second maggot. Once again, there was the bite, the flow of venom, but this time, it seemed to take longer before the maggot changed. I frowned and looked at Shigeto. Whatever was going on, the poor thing wasn’t doing so well after the first maggot. But finally, the transformation from maggot to gas was complete, and the thing inhaled its second course. After a moment, the shrew-thingy made a couple of coughing noises, but this time failed to regurgitate its dinner, if that was the correct term for what it had done. Then its abdomen swelled, it made a sad little noise, and collapsed.

  "Is it dead?" asked Shigeto?

  I cast my senses towards the ward, trying to sense that hot, strangely alien energy that struck the barrier moments before. Nothing. I sighed sadly. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure, or our local diet definitely doesn’t suit it. Or it prefers croutons?"

  "Well shit. The poor thing. Maybe we should have brought it some wild croutons?" Shigeto shook his head sadly, "It could have been vegetarian, but it looked and moved more like a predator to my eye. I’d hate to see what that venom would do to one of us if we got bitten."

  "In any case, I think we have to dissect our poor little guest to find out what we can." I grabbed a knife and a few pairs of latex gloves.

  Before I started, I took a black sharpie and drew a symbol on the palm of each glove, along with a few on the fingertips, for both protection and perception. Drawing on the latex was always a bit of a pain, and I can’t claim that I’m an artist, but really, it was the intent and focus on the spell that mattered. After I drew each set of symbols, I tossed the gloves into a careless little pile, focused, and spoke the words of the spell.

  The runes flashed, as they should, but this time they were flare bright, the intensity setting spots in my eyes and, where the symbols were in contact with the table, they charred it. I stumbled back, caught my heels at the ledge between the concrete and earthen floor, and sat heavily and suddenly. I sat there a moment, a little stunned, from the unexpected and intense energy drain of the spell. Then my feet, still on the dirt floor, flushed hot — the land's strength surging into me. It was a good thing that I had maintained the contact, or I would have likely passed out from the abrupt shock of losing so much of my own life-force.

  Shigeto was by me in an instant, crouched beside me.

  "What the hell?" I said.

  "That’s my line," said Shigeto. "You look pale. You’ve cast this spell before, haven’t you? I recognized it. I could swear you had, many times."

  "Every time I work with something that might be dangerous. I frowned at the ward that encircled our now dead shrew-thingy, pointed. "That was stronger, too. I thought it was just some odd interaction, which it was, but there’s more to it than that. There’s something weird going on with my castings."

  I saw Shigeto hesitate before he said anything, but he still asked. "You’ve been upset," He said, "I know you’ve been trying to get past it, but you’re still sad. Still angry."

  "Shouldn’t I be?" I spat. "He’s dead."

  Shigeto held up his hands. "Yes, of course. I am too. We both loved him."

  I took a deep breath, then leaned forward, hands on the bench. The hair that wasn’t caught in my ponytail fell forward around my face and I stared at the little dead creature in front of me. "Even if that was affecting my spell work, it still wouldn’t explain our little friend here." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that there was a question that accompanied the statement, so I closed my eyes, called on my connection to the land and its power, and let my senses expand. What I found jolted me upright and took a few steps away from my bench, looking over at Shigeto, eyes wide.

  “What?" he asked. He stood, as though ready for immediate action.

  "It’s the house," I said, my words slow with surprise, as I felt the source of this sudden power. "Something happened where Babe..." I stopped. Not wanting to say it again. Shit, the day had been going so well. It had been one of the few where I hadn’t cried, and now all of this. I wiped my eyes.

  "Disappeared," finished Shigeto.

  "Sure."

  "But if it was just where the explosion was, then why did it affect this spell?"

  I concentrated. "It’s the wall you repaired. You." I paused, thinking.

  "I...?" Asked Shigeto, waiting for me to finish.

  "Sealed the opening."

  "That was the idea," he said. "There was a hole in our kitchen wall. Even if it was behind the pantry door, it needed to be fixed."

  "Yes, but the opening didn’t go away. It just infected the rest of the house. It’s opened the way to some power, and," I gestured at the shrew-thingy, "other things."

  "What?"

  "Babe and Takara disappeared; there were no bodies. I’ve been assuming they were destroyed in the blast."

  “Didn’t you say that David had cast a protective spell?”

  "I said he tried." I straightened and pulled away from Shigeto, walking back to my table, the cool of the earthen floor reassuring. "If he’d succeeded, they’d still be here. It was too much for him. If I hadn’t frozen. If he wasn’t such a stupid, useless idiot." I gripped the table, shame and anger churning my stomach. "They weren’t just destroyed; they were consumed to make the opening."

  "Ellen," said Shigeto, his voice terse, "you have to get a grip on this. Maybe there’s room for hope. You know what Babe could do — maybe they weren’t consumed. Maybe they’re alive, just somewhere else."

  "I hope that bitch is dead. She’s the one who caused all of this!"

  "No, Ellen," said Shigeto with a sigh, "we did."

  I whirled around, ready to yell, but Shigeto was right there; he grabbed my shoulders and spoke before I could. "Takara went to David’s place because of his gate. They became allies because we ignored them, figuring they would be a risk to Babe. After the attack on David, they were desperate, and came here anyway. And still, we stone-walled them.

  You brought Babe into this world, and I say it was a good thing, but not one without consequence. We tried to pretend that keeping him isolated would keep him safe. But it didn’t work, couldn’t work, because he’s a part of this world and all its complications. Not like this poor, dead, shrew-thing on the table. He was strong, and I refuse to give up hope when there’s the faintest chance that he’s still alive."

  "I can’t hope," I said. "It would kill me."

  He looked at me, then folded me in his arms. "Then I’ll hope for both of us."

  "Thank you," I whispered.

  We stayed like that for a few moments, my heart aching, soothed by his presence, his solidity. I let myself rest for, feeling the link between us, a connection that had grown as we’d performed spells together. Shigeto had almost no magical ability when we’d first come here, and would never be an adept. Even so, he often surprised me with unexpected strengths. Like now, as he enveloped me, body and soul, he soothed the ache of loss and haunting guilt that I still felt. Finally, it had been spoken aloud. A truth that terrified me, echoing as it did the guilt I’d felt when my mother had died in madness, essentially abandoned, for all the time I’d given her as I’d built my career, justifying it because of the cost of her care. Those self-serving justifications were something I had been determined to prevent with Babe, but to no avail. I had fled from this truth, but now, to my surprise, I found that I could bear it with Shigeto.

  Eventually, he moved to step away. I made some small sound in protest.

  "We need to figure out what’s happening with this house. What it all means," he said.

  I gave him a level glance and whacked him on the chest. "That’s what I was doing. Until you distracted me."

  But there was no humour in his eyes right now. I could see something milling around in his brain, and I was fairly sure that I wouldn’t like what he was processing. Certainly, he didn’t. "What now?" I asked.

  "What if Takara was right?"

  I bristled at the name, but before I could continue, Shigeto held up his hand. "We’ve been talking about our little visitor like it’s a pest problem. Like we did about the gate in David’s back yard. Now I’m not saying that it’s some sort of invasion, but if not, what the hell’s going on? We’ve always downplayed the potential consequences of our craft, mostly because most of what people panicked about was nonsense. But whatever’s happening here is nothing like nonsense. If a handful of these things get into our ecosystem and adapt, well, it could be Australia and the bunnies all over again. And we’d be at the centre of this. We need to solve this and damned quick."

  "I know."

  He opened his mouth again, thinking that I wasn’t taking him seriously, but I held up a hand. "I get it. I do. Sure, I treat it like a fascinating problem, but I still realize it’s a problem. If I focus more than you’d like on what’s fascinating, well, it’s going to provide me a path to solving the problem, not lead me away from it. That’s how research works. Okay?"

  He held my face with both hands, kissed my lips and forehead. "Okay."

  I went back to the bench and held my hands over the latex gloves that I’d just bespelled. My eyes widened at the strength of what I sensed there. Shigeto stepped out of the circle and re-seated himself.

  "Well?" he said.

  "The runes worked."

  "You’re sure?"

  "Oh, very." I slipped on the first pair, and then a second pair, double gloving for safety’s sake. And I could feel the strength of the spell that covered my hands. It made me a little giddy, which may explain what I did then. I picked up the knife, and rather than beginning the dissection, I drove it towards my other gloved hand, resting palm down on the table.

  "Ellen!" yelled Shigeto. He didn’t have time for the requisite "what the fuck are you doing?" as the knife skittered off the glove and hit the table, whereupon I lost control of the thing. It lurched out of my grasp and sproinged towards Shigeto, skipping across the portion of the bench where his privates had recently warmed it. But, thank heaven, his reflexes were as fast as they were, and he was well away before the knife intersected him.

  "Goddess, Ellen."

  "Don’t blaspheme," I said. "It worked, didn't it?"

  "Fuck Ellen, what if it hadn't? Shit. No more hijinks."

  "Yes Sir," I said solemnly. That made him smile, but only just.

  By the time I was done, I had two small phials of the pseudo-shrew venom and Shigeto had entered several anatomical pages in our notebooks. He had a genuine talent for illustration. He was always the one who did the good copy in the ‘pretty’ grimoire. The lab grimoire was a rat’s nest of loose pages, post-it notes and scribbled comments and equations.

  "Wow," was his last comment, "I never thought lungs and stomachs could work like that."