The bad news for both of us was that Jodi Blake was likely a Nephandi mage, a demon worshipper or worse. From everything that Penny told me about what Jodi had done to Aries Michaels' house, it was fairly easy to surmise that she was into dealing with things best left alone. That, or she had some unusual beliefs in what constitutes fashionable home decorations. I don't like the ideas put forth by the Nephandi, and I like their usual methods of operations--anything goes as long as it pleases the masters--even less.

I got a little something for free in the bargain, besides. I learned that the mysterious figure in front of my store was nothing more or less than a flasher. When I saw Penny approaching the store completely ignoring the Man In Black, I was prepared to step outside of my shop and assist her in defending herself against the agent of the Technocracy. I saw his form move as she was preparing to pass him, and watched as he opened his coat. Penny's first reaction was to step back, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. Then she pointed at his crotch and said something I couldn't hear. Whatever it was, her acid wit had an instant affect on the man. He blushed and turned away, pulling closed his trench coat at the same time. I caught just enough bare flesh to realize that paranoia had done me in. I'd spent two weeks, off and on, waiting for the Technocracy to break down my door. Because a man in a black coat and hat was making lewd gestures with his exposed pelvis whenever anyone caught his eye. At another time I would have laughed, but not that weekend.

I did, however, make a mental note to remove the man from the neighborhood if I ever saw him again.

I could tell you about the wonders found in the depths of the Golden Pear, but I won't. Why depress anyone by explaining the miracles that have passed through my hands? Suffice to say that the Pear is the genuine article, and that it will go to the highest bidder in a closed auction. I have no doubt I'll make my money back tenfold. This time, I had the good sense to place it in my hidden safe. It was worth the extra fifteen minutes to open and reseal all of the wards.

Penny left my shop with a smile in place, but her skin was paler than normal and, despite her bravado, I knew that something had happened. She still joked and she still drove a hard bargain, God love her, but I think she finally realized just what magick is all about, and just what it can do to you if you're not careful. I'm glad of that. I don't worry quite as much anymore about finding her dead in an alley, or suffering the same sort of manipulations that dear Norna must have endured.

I was ready to believe that everything was right in the world again, until I checked the lunchtime news and heard that Aries Michaels' house had burned to the ground. Bad enough the revelation that I had been with a Nephandi, one of the great mages of corruption, but far worse to discover that Penny had not only stolen back what was stolen from me, but had burned down that mansion at the same time. I didn't think Jodi Blake was going to forgive that slight. She might have acknowledged the loss of the Golden Pear of Böttger and called it a draw, but there was a matter of pride to be considered.

I may know very little about the Nephandi in general, and certainly less about Jodi Blake, but I can say in all honesty that she is not the type to forgive an assault on her pride. To her, the burning of the house and possibly the liberation of her properties, could only be considered an act of war.

I didn't know who I was more worried for, myself or Penny. I suspected we'd both regret ever hearing about the Nephandi mage before the day was over. Naturally enough, I had reason to worry.

I almost didn't see the problem when it came through my door, primarily because the revenge Jodi sent my way was a very familiar face, and certainly not one I expected trouble from. Edith Blanton had been coming into my shop since almost the day I opened for business. She was a short, frail old woman who always had time to chat and always found some item or other that caught her eye. While we often discussed the latest books and theories being tossed around in the New Age section of the store, we never agreed on any subject. I think we both liked it that way; it was a part of our friendly banter.

I heard the jangle of the bell over my door as I was headed towards the front of the shop after pausing for lunch. It only took a second for me to realize that something was amiss: A book had fallen from one of the numerous shelves in my backroom--where the tomes of actual importance are kept--and I had just recovered from the loud boom when I turned at the sound of the front door opening. At first I thought I'd just placed it poorly when I set all of the jumbled books back in place after the earthquake, but it only took me a second to realize that I'd never seen that particular volume before. The book lay face open on the ground, with a graphic illustration of some hideous monstrosity towering over a screaming baby lying prone on an altar festooned with odd and unsettling illustrations. The monster had one hand in the child's chest, digging into a wound that opened the full length of the infant. Surrounding both the monster and its victim was a conjuring circle, and just outside of that circle stood a naked man with a goat's head and a naked woman kneeling beside him. The picture was unpleasant at best, and the implication was that the demon in the circle was forcing its way into the child's body. I found the concept repugnant. On the opposite page, the entry in bolder print mentioned Sendings and the victims of demonic possesion. I set the book aside, looking at the illustration briefly and marveling at the detail some of the older woodcutters had managed to create.

In hindsight, I'd have to say that that particular book falling down from the shelves and opening to that particular page was an omen. I hate omens, they tend to come true. I set the book on the shelf, leaving it open to the page I'd found, because I wanted to examine the illustration and the article on sendings more carefully. Then I headed back towards the front room of my shop, brushing the heavy cobwebs I'd gathered from the surface of the old tome.

By the time I'd pushed past the velvet curtain that led to my special room and the adjoining library, Edith Blanton was already on her way to the back of the store. I nodded and smiled as she walked towards the New Age books to see what was new. I wiped at the spiderwebs from my fingertips, while I got back to thinking about how I would handle Jodi Blake. I was worried. The Nephandi are notoriously dangerous, more so in my eyes than even the Marauders. I was still struggling with the warring thoughts of retribution and the memories of our romantic tryst when Edith came back to the front of the store.

Edith was holding a very large and utterly useless crystal ball in her hands when I noticed her. She was wearing her normal smile, a blend of uneasy curiosity and excitement at the prospect of our normal debates, but she wasn't speaking. "Hi, Edith. Do you want me to take that for you?" I was concerned for her health; that crystal ball weighed a good thirty pounds, and I was afraid she'd hurt herself trying to carry it. I was silent while I waited for her answer, but when she just stood there, I decided I should ask another question just to break the silence. "Nothing of interest in New Age today?"

"Actually I was looking for something a little different today, Bryce." I lifted an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue; she sounded like she had a cold coming on, and I made a mental note to give her some of my special tea, held for just such occasions. For Edith the tea would always be free, she was one of my favorite customers. "I was wondering if you might have any pears."

"Pears?" I was perplexed, and at that moment the Pear of Böttger was the farthest thing from my mind.

"Yes." Her voice had changed so completely that I was taken aback. Her normally soft, pleasant tones had been replaced by a deep hissing growl. "A golden pear, you thieving bastard!" With her words, Edith cocked back the crystal orb as if it weighed no more than a softball, and then heaved it at my head. If she hadn't spoken, if she hadn't made me notice that something was amiss, I would have never had a chance of dodging the high-speed missile. I ducked behind the counter just in time to avoid the thing and called myself lucky; the wooden wall behind me cracked and fragmented under the sudden impact, and crystal shards exploded across my back as the ball shattered.

My dear old friend, Edith, hopped over the counter like a professional hurdle runner, and landed next to my crouching form before I had a chance to stand. Her thin legs were spread wide in a battle stance, and her wrinkled hands were balled into fists. I was still recovering from the sight when she grabbed a handful of my hair.

I'm not a giant by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm still a pretty stocky man. Just the same, Edith lifted me completely off the ground and tossed me into the Tarot Cards a good ten feet away. She managed both feats with the one hand that was wrapped in my shaggy tresses. While I'm the first to admit that the Akashic Brotherhood was simply not my cup of tea, I was very grateful for the time I spent training with them at that moment. I managed to twist enough to avoid a broken back in the impact, but I still suffered from the bruising force, and I believe I probably received a few broken ribs for my trouble.

Edith charged at me like a bull, and her form warped and grew as she came. Her old, thin, papery flesh changed into a grey hide, and her short-cropped grey hair fell away from her scalp. I stayed in a crouch and waited as patiently as I could. It wasn't easy, because a slice of my life had just been destroyed, and the fragments looked intent on killing me. I really liked Edith and I miss her. By the time she reached me, Edith had grown three feet taller and a good four feet wider. Her face had stretched until the skin ruptured completely, and a bloody malformed skull complete with tusks instead of canines had replaced her kindly visage.

She hit me with the force of a runaway freight train, and I twisted my body out of the way, using her own momentum to carry her into my specialties room. Away from any casual passersby and into the privacy where I could use my magick without being seen. By the time I'd gone through the velvet curtain that separated the rooms, the Edith-thing was back up and ready for more. I grabbed for the first item I saw and threw it at her for distraction. She slapped the sword I tossed at her away, and gave me enough time to reach what I was after, the Tear of Kali.

I am absolutely convinced that my Avatar has been with me through several incarnations. That alone might explain why I joined the ranks of the Awakened at the age of four. I am also convinced that in at least one of those previous incarnations I was a member of the Euthanatos Tradition. I will point out for the record that I do not like the idea of killing anyone, one of my main reasons for not joining with the Euthanatos to date, but I am not above killing if I see no other option. Since I'd thrown it past the heavy curtain into my back room, the Edith-monster had continued to change and now stood a solid nine feet in height. It literally had to stoop just to stand up. Growth was the least of its changes. I summoned my will and focused through the Tear of Kali, deliberately slicing my thumb on one of the sharp talons that made the base of the chalice. I forced the blood from the wound into the skull-shaped bowl, and watched as the dark red blood was consumed by the smooth sides of the cup. The blood boiled as it was absorbed and then the power awakened by my actions was released; there was no flash of light, no visible stream of energy, but a wave of power left the chalice just the same.

Just as the Edith-thing was reaching for me with a ten-fingered claw, the wave hit. Whatever it really was, the creature gave way to the entropy within. A very small squeak past its blackened gums as its claw touched my shoulder. I pulled back and watched from the edge of the curtain that separated me from the rest of the world. In less than three seconds, the thing went from powerhouse to bubbling ruin on the ground at my feet. Inside of ten seconds, there was nothing left but dust.

I set the chalice back in its place, replaced the sword on shaking knees, and even managed to sweep the ashes into a garbage bag before the serious shakes hit me. I don't like killing, and I hope I never get to like the sensation. I made it up the stairs to my private bathroom before I vomited my lunch into the toilet. Two minutes later I came back down to my shop and started cleaning. The hole in the wall could wait, and I slapped a poster over the ruins with clear tape before I set all the Tarot cards back in place. After I'd finished with the cosmetic repairs, I double checked the rest of my special rooms, wanting to know for certain that they were still protected from interference. The first thing I noticed was the disappearance of the book I'd set aside earlier; having given its warning, whatever had dropped the book to the ground had apparently decided to take it back to wherever it belonged. That, or I'd imagined the entire event.

I didn't know if the creature I'd liquefied had been a demon, but I suspected there was a good chance it had. I looked around my special room very briefly and grabbed the only two items I could think of that would help me in that particular case: a dream-catcher and a spirit-catcher. The dream-catcher was a large loop of wood, decorated with feathers and fur, and spun with a web in its center. The craftsmanship was hardly anything spectacular, but this particular dream-catcher was authentic and powerful. The spirit-catcher was carved from the thighbone of a bear, and had been fashioned with openings on each end that formed the mouths of serpents. I knew how each item worked, and I went to handling the task as effectively as I could. With the spirit-catcher, I drew forth the spirit that had possessed Edith's body, looking with senses that most Sleepers refuse to believe exist, and seeing the dark, writhing cloud of pestilence that was drawn into the thighbone. Something moved within that cloud, and I knew that my worst fears were right: The soul of Edith Blanton was stuck within the spirit of a demon, like as not being consumed for energy.

I lifted the dream-catcher, blocking the way into the spirit-catcher before the demon's essence could enter. Dream-catchers work on a simple process: They capture bad spirits and only allow the good spirits through, thus assuring happy dreams to the ones who use them. Edith Blanton's soul slid past the web in the dream-catcher with ease, the demon was snared, and fought like a netted shark to escape the delicate webbing. Before the thing could break from its prison, I ushered Edith's spirit away from the spirit-catcher and focused my attention on the minion of Jodi Blake. It hissed as it was drawn into the ancient bone prison.

I locked the door and closed up shop, and then I started sweeping. I did my best to avoid the burning tears in my eyes, but anger and grief make a messy mix. I was angry because a good friend had been murdered, I grieved because I was partially responsible for her death. For one second, I thought I heard the voice of Edith Blanton whispering next to me. It said, "Thank you, Bryce," and then was gone. I can't be certain; I was very shaken by that point. I hope I heard her just the same.

I noticed what the poster I'd placed over the hole in the wall said for the first time; when you run a shop like mine, you receive flyers and posters for distribution constantly. I'd grabbed the first one available when I stuck it to the wall. The sign said: COME ONE COME ALL TO THE NECROTIC NEUROTIC HALLOWEEN BALL. Beneath the dripping letters was a bad illustration of two skeletons dancing around a Jack' O Lantern. The only address given was a single word: "Waydown." Penny and her friends were having a party there later the same night. The party had supplies purchased with money from the sale of the Golden Pear. Somehow, I didn't doubt that Jodi Blake would know where the money came from, and I was almost certain she'd show up there, ready to have a little party of her own. I knew in my heart that Penny'd be there too, as Jodi's guest of honor.

I knew also that I'd have to crash that little party. I'd lost one friend already, and I was damned if I'd lose another. The only answer I got at Penny's place was the start of that damned funeral dirge, and I just couldn't wait through it to leave a message. I prayed I wouldn't be too late.

I arrived at the Ball in the style only possible with a Stutz Bearcat and a twenties coonskin coat, complete with an antique Stanford pennant in the pocket, and I checked them to reveal a Victorian bridal gown, black lace with slashes of white in the sleeves, the type of thing a girl would have worn when her entire family had died, then she decided, "To hell with it--I'm getting married anyway!"

My lunchpail, with the NIN stickers--and the padlock--did not precisely go with the whole outfit, but then I wasn't going to leave Bimbo Yaga's talking cat back at my apartment with the rest of the stuff I'd snagged (minus what portion I'd fenced to Grimm). Call me superstitious, but while 'Ding, dong, bell/Pussy's in the well' had crossed my mind, it was a talking cat with glowing eyes, and if it hadn't smothered already after being locked for a day in a lunchbox, it probably wouldn't drown either.

And the idea of it succeeding in Houdini's last trick, a la Mr. Mistoffelees, then coming after me mad as . . . well, a wet cat, was frankly something I did not want to deal with. I needed to ask Neville and Blackrose and Spooky Pete their advice before letting the cat out of the box.

Unfortunately, they were all busy tending to the party (which I had completely flaked on--though for good reason), and even more unfortunately (and as I'd half expected) Bimbo Yaga showed up looking for me and her cat.

It hadn't occurred to me before, but when you burn down someone's house, besides torching their altar and their assorted evil bric-a-brac, you also cremate their wardrobe. And Jodi Blake looked as pissed as you might expect of a woman who has spent an entire night and day in the same leather teddy, fishnets, and stiletto heels.

And underwear.

But with that look, that face, and the riding crop still in her hand, she was the dream girl for the entire B&D and S&M and T&A contingent, and they just lined up at her feet, prostrating themselves. "Mistress!" they cried. "Mistress! Beat me! Beat me!"

It was with long experience, I suppose, that she knew that whipping them or kicking them away would only made them crowd closer and kiss her feet, and so she ignored them instead, giving the same look that the Wicked Queen in Snow White had when her mirror told her that her Oil of Olay was starting to give out.

I crouched back against the wall, trying to hide in the shadow of a pillar, but then Bimbo Yaga leveled her riding crop at me like it was some sort of magic wand (and for all I know it was) and the room went silent, the stereo system shorting out. "You . . ." she breathed. "You. Little. Bitch."

I held my lunchpail--and her cat--closer to me. "Do I know you, lady?"

She gave a withering look, surveying the crowd, and I think looking closer to her true age as she realized she couldn't exactly say, "Why yes! You burnt my house down last night, after I screwed and murdered the pizza delivery boy, while you were busy upstairs looting my altar room and stuffing my cat in a lunchpail! Don't you remember?"

Her lips pressed together in a cold, hard line. "Don't you have anything you wish to say to me, child?"

I paused, looking around at the crowd. They expected some response. "Well," I said after a long moment, "as a matter of fact, yes. When you got back last night, did you find a giant pair of blackened chicken legs in the ashes?"

Jodi looked perplexed, my comment having caught her out of left field, but then she seemed to get the reference. "Just who do you think you're dealing with, child?"

"Bimbo Yaga?" I asked, and I swear, her eyes turned about the same color as her miniskirt and she screamed.

Every candle in the place burnt blue at that moment, and I suddenly realized where the phrase 'swear up a blue streak' came from, because with the nasty-sounding words she said next, the flames flashed like cobalt fireworks.

Once she recovered, she pointed the riding crop at me again. "Impudent chit! I challenge you to the Duel Arcane!"

"The what?" I said, but then Neville stepped forward.

He was dressed in coachman's blacks, with a top hat and tails, and shuffled his Gashlycrumb Deck from one grey-gloved hand to the other. "The Duel Arcane," he said, with all the emotion of a BBC announcer, "an ancient magician's honor duel. She has issued the challenge, Penny, and as challenged party, you have the right to dictate the terms, the time, the place, and the method of combat."

"It shall be to the death!" said Jodi, and I shrank back against the wall.

Neville looked at her calmly. "No." The Gashlycrumb Tinies flew from one hand to the other. "You have issued an open challenge, one that may not be refused without loss of honor. Had you wished to challenge her to the Duel Thanatos, Penny could have refused, with no loss of honor to herself, simply acknowledging you as the greater mage. Had you challenged her to mere Certamen, she could not honorably refuse, yet neither would she risk death. But that is not the case." Whoosh! went the cards again. "Do you wish to withdraw your challenge, suffering that loss of honor, then call for the Duel Thanatos? For I must remind you, if you best Penny in this challenge, you may not honorably challenge her again until she has bested you in turn."

Bimbo Yaga snarled and her riding crop quivered in her hand like something you'd usually need batteries for. She glared at Neville, raising the crop in slow-motion towards his face. "I. Do not. Withdraw. My challenge."

Neville inclined his head. "Then honorably Penny must accept."

Somehow I'd moved forward to confront Jodi, the path clear between us. "I accept," I found myself saying. "The time and place shall be here and now. The stakes will be that if I win, you will go away, never again to bother me or mine. If I lose, I will surrender the contents of this box." I held up the lunchpail, and I know Jodi knew that the cat was inside. "That is all."

Neville looked to Jodi. "Do you accept or refuse the terms?"

"I accept," she ground out.

Neville smiled, for once showing a hint of emotion, pleasure even. "Then the combatants may now accept tokens and favors from those who wish them well." With ceremony and gravity, Neville presented me with his Gashlycrumb Deck. "For you, Penny. Use it well."

Blackrose came forward and slipped her feather boa around my shoulders and placed a kiss on my cheek. "For luck."

Jodi stood there, looking about, realizing that no one, not even her former admirers, was going to wish her well.

I don't know what I was doing. I really don't. But I realized that Neville had trapped Jodi in her own error, and if I ever wanted to be free of the bitch, I'd have to run with it. "Let's begin, shall we?"

I shuffled the Gashlycrumb Tinies till I came to one that felt right. I glanced at it, and the Gorey illustration and caption had changed from the original. I held it out for her to see: "'J is for JODI who took lye by mistake.'"

She paused and blanched, clutching her throat, but then opened her mouth and pointed her riding crop. "'And this figure he added eek therto, That if gold rust, what shal iren do?'" Her voice was harsh and raspy, ruined by the lye I had somehow just made appear in her throat, and the old words of Middle English were almost incomprehensible.

But the padlock fell from the box in my arms, and my lunchpail began to fall apart at the seams.

The cat. With the cat back, she'd have back most of her power, and the last thing I wanted to deal with was both of them.

I ran, the rusting lunchbox clutched in my arms, the Gashlycrumb Deck scattering in my wake. And thank the gods, I may have been in highbutton granny boots, but Jodi was in five-inch stiletto heels, and I was a good bit younger than her anyway.

Fairytales. Fairytales. Goddamn it, think, Penny. Think.

I gained the door, running out and turning left on instinct. 'Childe Rowland,' Burd Ellen, who ran widershins round the church and entered elfland, but under the Erl King's power. But her brother Rowland followed her, passing safely with Merlin's charm.

I dashed right through the Rocky Cast, where on the wall of church, appropriately enough, the projector had the scene where the dogs are being set after Rocky, and rounded the far corner of the church, Jodi after me, screaming and cursing and somehow managing to run in her stiletto heels while the lunchpail disintegrated in my arms.

"'Open door! Open door! And let me come in!'" I cried, and mist swirled in the shadows and I ran through it, clutching the struggling cat which was trying to work its way through the silk and the rusted remains of my lunchpail.

Around the church again, and it looked stranger and mistier, giant spiderwebs hung with dewdrops the size of diamonds, and hundreds of tiny spiders everywhere with jeweled eyes, like a thousand Silver Nutmegs.

Around the church a fourth time and I was back to the front, the doors standing wide open, a hundred times as grand as the St. Francis was before, spun with silver and diamond lights. FELICITATIONS spelled the giant web over the entrance and I ran in, Jodi behind me, her stiletto heels clicking like the devil's hooves.

Fairytales. 'Baba Yaga' and 'The Water Nixie.' But the boy dropped a brush/Which had magical bristles/Which surrounded the nixie with acres of thistles . . .

On instinct, I loosed Blackrose's feather boa, and I heard Jodi snarl behind me and pause, wrestling, I suppose, with a plumed serpent. Or at least I hoped so.

I ran into the church, widershins and widershins, up a spiral stair paved with silver and hung with webbing, higher and higher into the spiritual reality of the Waydown, tiny spiders flashing helpful messages in their webs as I ran up and up, the lunchpail falling to bits in my arms and the cat coming loose from the silk.

I reached the top of the stair and sprawled headlong onto a floor of gossamer webbing and silver mesh, the lunchbox and funeral silk flying from my arms, tumbling end over end as bits of rust and Nine-Inch-Nails stickers flew in all directions and the Chinese funeral cloth unfurled.

The cat came to rest on its feet, back arched, hissing, and eyes glowing green.

There was a chime on the silver stairs behind me, and I looked up to see Jodi there, her riding crop in her hand, the tip sparkling with golden barbs. She smiled cruelly. "So . . ."

"You broke the pact!" shrieked the cat. "You broke it!"

Jodi looked to Grimalkin, her face a mask of annoyance. "Not now, precious. Mother has business to attend to . . ."

"You broke the pact!" the cat screamed. "Milk! Blood! A human heart, stewed in wine! Each full moon! And it's a night past!"

I had the image of a very spoiled four-year-old having a tantrum, 'cause that's just what the cat sounded like.

Jodi smiled with ill humor, looking at the funeral cloth. "You did have your silken bed . . ."

The cat did not look amused at the joke, and it was then that the bell of the Silver Cathedral, or whatever this place was, began to come down. Then I saw that it wasn't a bell: It was the world's largest spider, shining silver like liquid mercury given form.

Jodi watched it, her mouth hanging open, and the spider reached down to her abdomen, pulling forth a hank of webbing and holding it between her four forelegs like a gigantic cat's cradle: WELCOME TO MY PARLOR

It folded the hammock of silver silk together, stretching it out again in a smaller size: SHIT FLY

Jodi gaped in horror and her lips shrank away from her teeth, her face becoming skeletal or at least looking like a corpse about four hundred years old, and I haven't the faintest idea what she turned into. A banshee. A harpy. Hell, for all I know it was a bandersnatch, the thing flew out of there so fast, screaming and shrieking and clawing aside the little spiders that tried to block its way.

I didn't have a broomstick or magic carpet or anything else to follow with, and I just sat there, looking up at the giant silver spider.

It held up its cat's cradle again: SALUTATIONS, PENNY Fold and twist: GOOD WORK

"Norna?" I breathed.

The spider reached down to its abdomen and pulled forth a great deal of webbing, holding forth a message the size of a movie screen: WEAVER

"What--" I said. "What happened to you?"

She folded the giant sheet like origami, holding forth a cocoon with the effigy of a fat man in it and the legend: DOCTOR HIMIITSU

She hung the effigy aside like she would for her larder and added a caption over it: SOME PIG

I sat, holding my breath, and . . . Weaver . . . the giant spider, spun out three messages: 'BUSY,' 'BYE,' and 'BEST WISHES'

The cat watched the spider ascend long after I'd finished, then turned to look at me. "You bested my old mistress. Do you have any human hearts stewed in wine?"

The hopefulness and the innocence in that voice was chilling, and at the same time very, very Goth. "Sorry, fresh out." I brushed my hair back out of my eyes. "How about fresh cream and sushi?"

The cat cocked its head and blinked. "With raw eel?"

"And quail eggs," I said, and the cat blinked again.

"Yes, mistress," it said, then padded over and curled up in my lap, purring.

I realized then and there that I'd just contracted a familiar. The stories about bribing Baba Yaga's cat were right after all.

I began to stroke its fur. "So is your name really Grimalkin?"

The cat purred. "It's the name she gave me." Purr, knead. "It was all the rage four-hundred years ago."

"We'll have to find you a better one."

I leaned back and smiled. T.S. Eliot had written other things than The Waste Land and 'The Hollow Men.' Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats for one.

I stroked the fur of my new familiar. "'The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,/It isn't just one of your holiday games;/You may think at first I'm mad as a hatter/When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.'"

The cat purred in agreement, looking forward, I suppose, to raw eel and quail eggs and cream as a change from blood and milk and human hearts stewed in wine.

Talking cats. Witches. Giant spiders. Silver Keys.

I sighed. I suppose I could get used to this too.

I got to the Waydown too late to stop the conflict between Penny and Jodi Blake. When I arrived, most of the people in the club were busily doing their own thing, drinking, dancing, and few other activities that were patently illegal. There were a few exceptions.

Neville was picking an up his trademark Gashlycrumb Tinies cards from where they'd scattered all over the floor, and cursing under his breath. I could see why he was upset. One of them faced me briefly (B is for Bryce, assaulted by bears). It had been bent and trampled roughly. I saw the image of myself on the card and was slightly startled. As I said before, I hate prophecies. I knew Neville, and I knew he couldn't possibly be happy about the situation. "Neville, I need to talk to you."

Neville stared back at me, eyelids half-lowered and a sneer on his thin lips. "Well, if it isn't Bryce Grimm. What brings you to the Waydown? Decide it was time to get a life?" Neville hasn't liked me for a long time and, frankly, I just couldn't care less. Whatever I might have done to him is long in the past, and if he has a problem he doesn't want to discuss with me, well, I can go on ignoring his waspish little comments.

"I have a life, Neville. What I need right now is to know where Penny Dreadful is. Have you seen her?" I took a look around the burned out church, ignoring the garish Halloween decorations and focusing on distinguishing Penny from the multitudes of others dressed in equally old black clothes. I couldn't see her.

Neville sniffed disdainfully, and deftly shuffled his cards again, whipping them between his hands with the skill of a Vegas card-shark. "She isn't here. She left with another woman in hot pursuit." He paused for a moment, arranging his face and trying hard not to look worried. "They were dueling over the contents of Penny's lunch box or some such nonsense. The Duel Arcane no less."

"How long ago?" It took a minute to get the words past my lips; they'd gone cold and numb at the thought of Penny taking on a Nephandi mage strong enough to completely alter an old woman into a killing machine. Worse still, taking her on in an honor duel, with no help from anyone else. Worst of all, doing so in public. The Paradox Spirits were probably in a uproar already.

"Maybe twenty minutes. A little more, a little less." Apparently remembering he was supposed to be angry with me over whatever imagined slight, Neville pressed his lips together and stared down his nose at me. "Why do you care?"

"Because I owe Penny, and I don't want to see her destroyed."

"Well, not that it should matter to you, but I believe she ended up in the Umbra. She'll be back when she's finished her fight." He didn't say it, he didn't have to, the unspoken words he left out were simple enough for any mage to understand. She'll be back if she's still alive.

I nodded and turned away. Neville looked like he was ready to say something, but I didn't wait around to hear his words. I moved through the Waydown, pressing past people years younger than me and feeling decidedly out of place in my jeans and T-shirt. There were two kids dancing close together, managing to find a rhythm in the discordant crap playing on the stereo system. Both of them had some sort of reflective contact lens in one eye, the left, that made the eye appear red. I wondered what the next fashion statement would be, and decided I really didn't want to know. Several of the Goths looked at me and sneered, but most just didn't really care if I was there or not. A few even recognized me and waved or nodded. I nodded in return, but didn't even try my luck with waving; the bruises on my ribs and on my shoulders kept me from making any unnecessary gestures.

The music was too loud, and the room was all but flooded with the mixed stench of clove cigarettes, perfume and other less identifiable substances. I had almost given up hope of seeing Penny or Jodi when Jodi stepped out of the shadows. What little she was wearing was only enough to emphasize her statuesque physique, and my mind went back only two days to the afternoon of pleasure we had shared. I pushed the thoughts away, remembering that this woman had killed Edith Blanton, and could well have done the same to Penny. One way or the other there was going to be a reckoning.

Jodi was looking away from me, and I stepped further into the shadows of the club as she started turning, surveying the depths of the old church. I bumped someone behind me, and whoever he was, he made threatening sounds in his throat until I apologized softly. When Jodi Blake was finally looking in my direction, she saw only the disgruntled boy in false Victorian clothes. I saw much more. I could read the anger on her from a hundred yards away. She was livid, but she was also looking rather worried. That suited me just fine. I took her confused anger to mean that Penny had escaped, and I hoped I wasn't coming to the wrong conclusion.

Jodi didn't walk so much as saunter towards the door, and I watched her from the shadows. Several times during the trek, one person or another tried to engage her in dancing or conversation, or perhaps even other activities, but she was obviously not in the mood to stop. A Hollow One I knew by face but not by name tried to confront her, but Jodi simply stared the girl down.

She walked towards the exit, and I followed a discreet distance behind her; I wanted to confront the witch, but not in a place with so many Sleepers. I've had a few dealings with Paradox Spirits in the past and, you may rest assured, they are not fun to mess with. When she stepped out the door, I saw her moving towards the left and waited a few seconds before following. Neville nodded to me, pointing to where she went, and I thanked him with a return nod.

I slipped out the door just as a small crowd was trying to get in, and I spotted her as she stepped around the corner of the St. Francis' desecrated remains. Damn me, but I still couldn't stop thinking about her; I don't like to sound like a starving puppy, but she was an amazing lover. I just wish things could have turned out differently. I have little doubt she messed with my mind. I think she must be amazingly adept at magick because, to this day, I'm still bewitched by the thought of her.

I waited until she was again just around the corner and then I moved that way. I wasn't going to lose her, not if I had anything to say about the situation. I peeked around the next corner, and saw her standing still, looking at me. She did not look happy.

"Hello, Bryce."

"Jodi," I managed not to stutter, but it wasn't easy. I kept wondering how I could be thinking so much about being with this woman after she had killed a friend of mine, and forced myself to ignore her come hither look.

"Well, this is a sticky situation, isn't it?" She moved towards me as she spoke, and fool that I am, I walked towards her in return. "All over a little piece of antiquated clockwork."

"That's not what this is about at all, and you know it."

She pouted prettily, and I bit down on the inside of my mouth, using the pain to keep me coherent. I had a nervous feeling in my stomach, and my blood pressure was on the rise again. The night air was cold, but I was sweating. "Then what is it about, Bryce?"

"Deceptions. You lied to me, and you killed a good friend of mine. You stole my property. For all I know, you've killed another friend in the last half-hour."

She chuckled throatily, and smiled as brightly as I've ever seen any woman smile. In that second I could have believed that she was innocence incarnate. Surely any angel this lovely could not be a demon in disguise. "I didn't kill your friend, sweet Bryce, you did. I just helped her see the world a little differently. And as for your little girlfriend... Well, let's just say that isn't finished yet." I guess that last line was all it took to make me truly angry. I could forgive a lot, but I could not condone a threat against Penny or anyone else I cared about. Worse still, I could tell by the tone of her voice that she didn't mean to hurt Penny's body, she meant to ruin Penny's soul.

I held myself in check when she wrapped her arms around me and pulled herself against my chest. My body was trembling with the desperate need to caress her, and it took all of my effort not to give in. I don't think I could have resisted her if not for the threat against Penny. "Let's just let bygones be bygones," she purred softly against my ear. Her breath was warm and sweet and smelled of springtime and happier days when I was still innocent. "Give me the Pear, and you can have me. For as long as you want me."

She placed warm lips against my neck and nuzzled there for a second, I wanted to push her away, but I just couldn't. "I need the pear, Bryce. I'm older than I look, and my deal with the Dark Lords does not include eternal youth. I'm afraid to die, afraid of what they'll do to me. Please, help me, Bryce. I'll be yours forever, if you'll just help me.

God help me, evil wears a lovely form. I don't know if I'd have said yes or not, I may never have to worry about it. I'd almost closed my eyes for a second, they were barely open at all, when I noticed the forms in the shadows. There were several, I couldn't say the exact number if my life depended on the total. Somewhere along the way, Jodi had called for reinforcements. The image of Neville's card flashed in my mind--{"B is for Bryce, assaulted by bears"}--I reiterate, I hate prophecies, in any form. They have a nasty tendency to come true.

Dark forms moved among the shadows, drifting and gliding, darkness that could only be seen as a deeper black against the grey of the shadows that buried the alleyway. They made no sound, and that was maybe even worse than their shifting forms. Silent killers that were at home in the places where human eyes hate to look. At home in the shadows. I pulled back from Jodi, looking down at the water-stained street in an attempt to clear my head of her influences. If I'd looked in her eyes again, I know I'd have been lost for all time in the depths of her power. The puddles held my reflection and hers, and I looked at myself briefly, shocked by how pale I was. Then I looked at Jodi's form in the still waters, and pushed her away from me, appalled by the crone that my reflection held in its arms, cracked, thin lips whispering in my reflections' ear.

I looked up at Jodi, my heart deep in my throat, my stomach doing some nasty turns as I thought about what I'd been doing with the hag reflected in the puddles, how I'd held her in my arms and kissed her, made love to her.

Jodi smiled as lovingly as ever, she was as beautiful as ever, and stepped back into the shadows of the old church. Her eyes held a deep regret, and I knew that she understood what I'd seen in the water: her true form, minus the magicks that made her an angel in appearance. "One last warning, Bryce: Don't make me come looking for the Pear of Böttger. I need it, and I'll have it. I have to leave now, but I'll see you soon." Her voice was filled with a sorrow that made a lie of her smile. I almost felt sorry for her right then.

I didn't see where she went, I was too busy with the monsters around me. They moved in and I did my best to defend myself. My eyes alone were not up to the task, and my ears were useless in tracking creatures that made no sound. The first of the shadow-things struck me before I even saw it move. Darkness clutched at my shoulder, and a cold, numbing fire seared my flesh beneath the T-shirt. Eyes burned in that shadow, but the light that blazed from the darkness was pale, poor indication of anything save the creature's foul mood.

The second one managed to sink impossibly long teeth into my leg and pulled back with a good deal of my flesh and tattered Levi hanging from its mouth, a flat shadow holding a three-dimensional section of my body in its two-dimensional jaws and chewing greedily. I won't lie, I screamed shrilly as the pain of the wound ignited on ruptured nerve endings. Right around then I decided that coincidental magick alone wouldn't help me make my escape. I turned and ran like hell away from the old St. Francis.

I've had nightmares about being chased by the Men In Black, I've suffered from those dreams ever since I was captured by them at the age of sixteen. This was worse. I was bleeding heavily from the wound in my leg, and I could feel a sickening cold sensation pulling at my mind, crawling up from the wound and trying to woo me with promises of sweet oblivion. At the same time, those silent freakish bastards were oozing through the darkness of the back alleys and poorly lit streets.

I hopped and ran as best I could, feeling the hairs on my neck rise and try to crawl away at the thought of the shades that pursued me. Something dark and cold ripped tatters from the back of my shirt and drew blood that dribbled down across the small of my back and soaked through the seat of my jeans. I felt the numbness increasing as I tried to find a suitable spot for my final stand.

Finally, I came to a street light that was burning brightly and stood under the powerful yellow glow emanating from the sodium bulb. The dark forms gathered around the pool of light that surrounded me, uncertain what to do. They conversed among themselves, gesturing and pointing at me with long tapered claws, but whatever they were saying was not for my ears. I heard only the sound of my own ragged breathing and the pounding of my pulse slapping against my temples.

Finally one of them tried to brave the stark light, and I watched as the taloned paw of the shadow-thing reached into the circle of brightness. I saw the dark shape push into the area as if struggling to force its hand through a stone wall, and as it finally achieved this monumental effort, I watched the blackness separate and come unraveled. The seemingly solid black form jerked and tried to pull back as its shadow-flesh grew grey and ash-like. Then the limb simply faded away, leaving the withered stump to burn as the creature fell away from the light. I was right in my hopes; the shadow-creatures suffered the same weakness as true shadows, they could not stand the bright light, could not survive without the darkness that spawned them.

My joy was short-lived; I could still feel the venom from their dark claws coursing into my bloodstream. My mind wanted to give into the cold, bleak weariness that the creatures had forced into my body. I forced fresh air into my lungs and focused my will, warping the reality set around me and burning the poisons out of my system. I was still weak, but I could think again, think clearly enough to fight back against the things that waited for me beyond my island of safety.

The pain from my wounds aided in keeping me alert, and I made a mental note to clean them thoroughly when I got back to the apartment above my shop. As for the shadow-monsters, I decided to try my luck with the light around me. I once again focused my will, fueled my beliefs in the ways of the universe and supercharged the street lamp above me. The light grew brighter, and shifted from a dull yellow to a burning white. As the light grew stronger, the shadow-creatures suddenly found themselves engulfed in the luminescence. The creatures that had surrounded my area of safety suddenly found themselves in turn surrounded by the light, and screamed as the fiery glow expanded, lighting the surrounding block as well as if it were high noon on a sunny day. The writhing shapes made a sound that was barely over a whisper, but the only sound they'd made at all, as they burned out of existence.

The light had taken all it could, and the sodium bulb exploded in a flaming arc of released gasses, showering me for the second time that day with broken glass. One wedge of glass cut across my face, leaving a thin line of pain that started another path of blood on my body. I dropped into a crouch and covered my head with my arms, in a futile attempt to avoid suffering more scrapes and cuts as the hot glass rained down around me. Then the brilliance died and the darkness surrounded me again. I stayed perfectly still for a long time, waiting for the claws to come for me from the depths of the night.

Instead, I heard the voice of Jodi Blake as she stepped out of the darkness. She was smiling, the only nasty expression I'd seen on her face in the time I'd known her. A smile of triumph, a promise of pain. "Well, you handled that better than I would have expected, Bryce. Ready for another round, or will you give me the Pear?"

I stared at Jodi for a long while. No words came to mind that could express my bitterness, my cold rage at what she had done. I wanted nothing so much at that moment as I wanted to cause her pain. I wanted her to suffer at least a fraction of the grief she'd caused me, Penny and dear old Edith. I returned her smile, tasting the flavor of my own blood as it spilled past my upper-lip and leaked past my clenched teeth.

Aries Michaels had taught me a lovely little spell when he was my teacher; it was simple, it was easy, and best of all, I knew it would hurt Jodi as little else could. I plucked a fragment of glass from the ground, ignoring the cut I gave myself in the process, and chanted three words in a language long dead. Jodi started, expecting no resistance from me so late in the game. Then she smiled when nothing at all happened.

I held the piece of glass in front of me, and I finished the spell with words in English. "Let the truth be revealed for all to see." The shard grew hot in my hand, and a shaft of light lanced out to strike Jodi full on. She raised her hands to ward off the brilliance, and I watched as the illusions were burned away from her, revealing once more the wretched old hag that I'd seen earlier in the pool of water.

Jodi stared at the hands and arms before her, crying out as the illusions she'd crafted so carefully were destroyed. The light from the glass faded, but the false skin she'd worn did not reappear. Jodi stepped back, shaking her head and mumbling softly to herself, horrified by what she'd become. What she'd already been for some time. Few people can stand to face the truth about themselves, their weaknesses, their flaws. The spell I'd cast showed every stain on Jodi's soul, and the stains were deep and plentiful.

The hag cried out with a scream worthy of an air raid siren, and then she ran, moving faster than should have been humanly possible. I stayed where I was, waiting to have the strength to move again. Twenty minutes later, I finally stood and started the trek back to my home.

It was almost morning when I finally made it back to my shop. The sky was lit with false dawn. A few stragglers walked the streets with me, weaving their way to unknown destinations or slumping down in back alleys, ready to call it a night and fully prepared to make the wet, filthy crawl-spaces their bed until they had rested a while. None of them paid me any mind, most were too drunk to care if they were bleeding, let alone to care if a complete stranger was wounded and badly shaken.

I used magick once more that night, to heal the worst of my wounds after I had cleaned them as best I could. Either I'm unbelievably lucky, or the Paradox Spirits have opted not to make me suffer for my actions... Not yet at least. They will, but they have been known to wait until you are least prepared to handle the problem.

I found a note waiting for me when I got back to my shop. It was written in a lovely flowing script, red ink fading towards brown and clotting slightly on a plain white piece of paper. No surprise, it was from Jodi. "Dear Bryce, I would love to stay and settle matters, but I have to leave for now. Think about my offer. I'll even promise to leave your friend alone if you just give the Pear of Böttger to me. I am even willing to overlook the nasty little trick you pulled on me. I'm sure we'll talk again soon. Until then, dream of me, as I will surely dream of you. Love, Jodi."

She'd even placed a heart as the dot on her "i."

I burned the letter.

I checked as soon as I entered the shop. The Golden Pear of Böttger and the Elector of Saxony's Key were still where they belonged, and nothing else had been touched. There was a very brief message from Penny on my machine. "Grimm, I'm okay. Neville told me you checked. We'll talk later. Bye."

At least she had the decency to call. I slept soundly for several hours. I don't remember much about my dreams, but I do remember that Jodi was in them, and I remember a pile of skulls, some still hanging with meat and others old and worn almost to dust. The only part of the dream that scared me occurred after I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock screaming in my ear; I remember waking up feeling very refreshed, and knowing that whatever happened in that hideous dream, I was enjoying myself whole-heartedly.

God help me, the future is a scary thing.