Of Power

By Coral Bentley

He fell in love, they kissed, and everything fell apart. His job, the last link he has to his father, and even his sanity are at risk.

Can Allen, with the help of his best friend, overcome curses and kidnappings, a double-edged legacy and an heiress, and metaphysical battles and a clan war to earn the love of the woman who makes him complete?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984562609

Coral Bentley

Coral Bentley has spent most of her adult years as a housewife, and established her career as a writer at the age of 50. There were always books at hand while she was growing up, enriching her interest in science fiction and fantasy. She studied at the University of Guelph for several years while focusing on Microbiology, and had been a member of the school's Games Club for most of those years. Lately, she has been studying karate and is reaching toward her black belt. Two of her stories have been posted at the karate dojo, receiving compliments as being entertaining examples of kata write-ups.

Book preview

Prologue

LADY BEHIND THE CURTAIN

The cute blonde knelt on the plush gray carpet of the meeting room, keeping her eyes focused on the brightly-polished ebony shoes before her. Seated upon a formal chair was an imposing heavy-set woman, resplendent in black silk with silver rings, bracelets, necklaces, and a glittering tiara in her flaxen hair as well. The cold grey hue of thunderclouds filled her eyes; the woman was angry.

How could you fail us like this, Marsha? Did you not know how important it was for you to succeed? The calmness of her tone filled the girl with dread; she had heard her mother speak like this two years ago, when Marcie wasn’t even a tween yet. Within days the boy who’d relentlessly bullied the Matron’s daughter found himself and his whole family relocated to Russia for no apparent reason. Even wrapped in a heavy oversized coat, Marcie shivered. One did not oppose a Clayton without solid repercussions.

Please forgive me, Ma’am. I did know and I failed you. I am sorry. She kept her head low and blinked away tears of fear. Everything had gone so wrong and she didn’t know what her punishment would be. All she could do now was follow the forms, expressing penance with her posture and showing integrity by accepting and owning up to her shortcomings.

The knock upon the door was unwelcome - it could only postpone her misery. Marcie crouched lower until her forearms rested on the carpet. The door attendant opened the portal and a slight jingle of jewelry preceded the Matron’s response. Ah. It’s you. Report.

Casual shoes made soft sounds on the carpet and a person walked across the room to stand beside Marcie, where she sheltered under Daddy’s coat. She glimpsed past the edge of the jacket at the footwear, afraid they would be her father’s boots, and gained scarce relief that they weren’t. Marcie felt acutely vulnerable in the presence of this unfamiliar man and was more grateful for the sweltering garment which surrounded her like a cave. No one could see her short skirt barely covering her underwear and the frilly lace bra showing through the torn blouse.

Yes Ma’am, the newcomer replied. The target is still commanded to stay in the administrative office while his supervisor and their employer study the scene. I don’t have long; I’ve gone out to get coffee." The man carried no anger or fear in his voice; in fact, he sounded as emotionless as a guest lecturer in English class. Marcie deduced that he must have been satisfied with the situation. Maybe there was some chance that she would still be a useful pawn for her mother; maybe she would be redeemed. Quietly, she began to pray.

You are certain they will not discover our hand in matters? Marcie listened for the slightest inflections in the Matron’s voice which would betray the woman’s mood and found only her mother’s businesslike tone.

Ninety-four percent positive. Neither present signs of significant magical talent and camcorders don’t have the ability to record auras. Unless they call in a practitioner before people begin moving in and out of the area, any traces will be masked before someone using thaumic sight just happens by." The man’s pant cuffs shifted, slightly and rhythmically. He seemed restless, perhaps excited by his role in the attempted enthrallment.

The Matron paused briefly before responding. Very well. You must make sure that something happens to smudge those traces. In fact - see if you can get our target to have you go in for something. Be invaluable to him, Cunningham. Maybe you can be the bait, since my daughter failed the completion of the mission. Marcie felt the brunt of the accusation, yet her heart lifted somewhat; Ma’am was still willing to acknowledge her as kin.

Yes, Ma’am. Ma’am, your target hasn’t shown interest in men, only women. The discomfort in his voice was quite clear; Marcie paid close attention, forming a profile the way her mother had taught her. ‘Clayton Society, male, white collar, straight…’

Don’t be naive, the woman chided. You foolish men don’t remember how seriously important it is to have friends and how hard it is to keep your hands off women friends. Be like those heroes in that show… Oliver Queen and John Diggle. Fight crime, kick butt - be buddies. He is vulnerable with his reputation on the line and is certain to cling to any friend who supports him in this time of strife. Bring him into the fold, Cunningham, and there may be a reward for you. Now go get coffee. Report to me again tomorrow. A jingle of bracelets told Marcie that her mother was shooing the man away - a light-hearted gesture. It was a very good sign.

Yes, Ma’am. Marcie heard his clothing rustle as he bowed, then his shoes lightly scuffed the carpet on the way to the door. She continued to wait even though her legs were aching from the cramped position.

At last the Matron spoke. On your feet, child. Report. It was difficult for Marcie to rise with grace and stand with proper posture after the extended time she had spent crouched, and her mother frowned with annoyance until Marcie got herself together.

Yes Ma’am, she began, anxious to please and yet worried about the punishment to come. The man, Cunningham, is a friend of Mr. Greer. He is obedient to you. He, umm, he doesn’t like men ‘that way.’ Marcie began to tremble; she couldn’t think of anything else and clearly her mother was not satisfied yet. Oh! He, umm… drinks coffee.

Destiny finally nodded at her child. That is a good beginning. Now go record your information and clean yourself up. This is the most important lesson for you to learn tonight - you are going to fail but you are not defeated until you quit. Now go.

Marcie bowed and walked out of the room at a normal pace. She counted fifteen careful steps down the hallway to her quarters before breaking into a run. Soon she could wash away the smudged lipstick, tidy her tousled hair, and dress in regular clothes again.

She hadn’t managed to entrap the mage but she felt secure. There were enough groups moving around him; his protectors, the people trying to look like they weren’t aiming to claim him for their society, and even the school board members who wanted the situation smothered. Her reputation would remain reasonably intact. Not quite ‘so much yes,’ but there was a chance it would all end well enough. Besides, Marcie didn’t like Mr. Greer very much and was secretly glad that she didn’t have to play through the planned intimate invitation.

She had failed, but would never be defeated.

Mistletoe

The standard after-school before-holidays bedlam abruptly changed. Warily, Shai rose from where she’d been loading her backpack to see Mr. Greer stalk past her into the foyer at the end of the hall, parting students like a bull moose passing through reeds - although reeds didn’t collect their things and vanish outside. A small clot of kids was oblivious; all facing inward they shuffled about, giggling and squealing.

What is the meaning of this? the teacher demanded as he advanced, making himself heard above the laughter and festive music resounding throughout the school’s lobby. The young teens, bunched together like a herd of wide-eyed deer, barely held their ground. Several strides before he reached them, he drew up short with an expression of annoyance. Mr. Greer spared a glare for the ceiling before stepping toward the kids again. The falter in his movement gave them the backbone they’d needed to scamper away - most fleeing by pairs into the snowy parking lot outside.

He watched them leave and then shifted, as if almost deciding to go elsewhere but not quite coming to that conclusion. It was odd. Shai decided to not get too close on her way outside - Mr. Greer was known to be grouchy and he definitely looked to be in a bad mood.

‘A magic mistletoe,’ pondered Allen Greer. There wasn’t much sorcery about in the world but it seemed most was used for foolish jokes and tricks. This prank was truly annoying: he was stuck where he was, within the cone of the device’s influence, until he fulfilled its command to share a - a kiss with another victim. Fortunately, the students seemed to be keeping well away.

It was not entirely unexpected to find the mistletoe here considering it was the last day before the Christmas holidays, but even low-magic devices needed a sorcerous boost to initiate their spell. Allen had casually kept watch on the students ever since his arrival at this school, and sincerely doubted any would have had the strength to power a device like this.

As he sought to find a way to disable the device without revealing his sorcerous talents, a clique of girls swarmed into the foyer. Marsha, the manipulative blonde vixen in the lead, was several years older than when she’d threatened his reputation. She had become prettier in that time, but Allen was definitely not interested. Not only was she still just a student - he also knew that a viper lurked in her heart.

All right, everyone. He’s in the trap but still alone. Remember what I said and stay by the wall. The seven girls to whom she spoke nodded; they had been well-briefed. Marcie had had an accomplice set off the mistletoe so she wouldn’t be seen nearby, and of course Mr. Greer would come storming in - it seemed to be a regular part of his job to clear the halls at the end of the day. The others were disappointed that they couldn’t record the teacher actually kissing a girl, but it was still funny to see him glowering there in the foyer.

They advanced on their roundabout way to the exit, a solid wedge up along the wall with Marcie making sure nobody from her clique would end up in the mistletoe’s influence with Mr. Greer. Bernadette had been irritating, but not badly enough to punish her by offering her up to the trap.

Luck was with Marcie though; a homely-looking teen was approaching, being redirected closer and closer to the circle by the phalanx of the blonde’s friends. Marcie grinned mirthlessly at Allen and deliberately shoved the girl right into the mistletoe’s influence. Her clique laughed while they took pictures with their phones; some at the fallen student but some at the teacher. ‘An act of vengeance, then,’ he concluded; one which he would not soon forget.

It appeared that the targeted girl wouldn’t forget either; she leapt to her feet quickly in a fighter’s pose straight from MMA tournaments, ready to get herself suspended if she could throw those punches. The other students wisely kept back, nervously tittering as they strolled to the exit, while their victim trembled in place.

The girl threw a glare up at the mistletoe; astonishingly, apparently she could sense the magic’s source too. While Allen regarded her, he thought more urgently about how to bypass the effect with his limited abilities. Kissing her would dispel it but that would not be appropriate at all despite Christmastime and the traditions around mistletoe. Honestly, he was not eager to share intimacy with anyone and he definitely did not want to approach that hellion from a perspective of vulnerability.

The school doors swung open as the blonde and her simpering retinue marched triumphantly out into the snow - the last of the students except one. A gust of wind flowed into the almost-vacated entryway, jostling the silvery garland over the doors and adding a chill to the discomforting atmosphere. It helped Shai rein in her intense rage.

The teacher was studying her as if she were something that might be noxious. His arms were folded across his chest, symbolically refusing to engage - to submit to the stupid toy’s spell. She almost laughed; unless she missed her guess, they would have to endure at least an hour of each other’s company before the mistletoe’s charm faded away. Taking off her coat and setting it on her backpack, she copied his pose - one hip slightly forward, arms clasped tightly, chin up, mouth set in a line of disapproval. His eyes flickered with anger and he actually advanced a step closer.

Back off, the girl barked, thrusting a hand forward. I’m willing to just get it over with but you evidently want to wait out the spell or something. So don’t come any closer. Allen stopped moving, a bit surprised. Girls these days; when he was younger they would sooner vomit than touch lips with a teacher.

And that attitude! Allen wondered why she wasn’t on the list of troublemakers. The small booklet did not include mention of even one senior female student with medium length brown hair, plain garb, no makeup or jewelry to be seen, no tattoos visible - almost completely unremarkable in fact. He reasoned that she must be new to the school even though the first term was almost finished. She certainly hadn’t been one of his students.

Shai lowered her gaze and then spoke quieter. I’m sorry, Sir. I am angry with those ... those girls and I can’t do anything about it. I’m going to be late for work and I won’t have time to have supper before I go and I really don’t like being forced to do things. She lowered her hands to her sides, fists clenched tightly, and looked back at the teacher. Shai didn’t know why she didn’t take matters into her own hands considering the trouble this was going to cause her - and hoped the man was worthy of her effort.

Mr. Greer continued to regard her as if she were a curious science experiment known to randomly combust, but he remained where he was. Somewhere in his late twenties and well-dressed, he was reasonably attractive. Shai presumed that was why he had such a negative reputation; relationships between staff and students were taboo, yet she hadn’t missed Marcie’s performance and suspected a history between the two. She was the most popular girl in the school; it would take all of two or three allegations for her opinion to spread. Shai studied the teacher again and still believed her first statement; kissing Mr. Greer would not be unpleasant at all. And then she also decided that the irksome mistletoe was more pervasive than she’d thought.

Allen was alert enough to know when he was being ‘checked out,’ even if it had not knowingly happened in a school setting before, and he felt his cheeks grow warm. The girl thankfully turned her gaze back to the device on the ceiling and he could think again. Allen recognized that his emotions had been nudged, suggesting that he also just ‘get it over with’ in order to be freed from this ridiculous situation.

The honesty and shame in the student’s voice had tugged at him and he could certainly sympathize with her anger concerning the long-departed clique. He’d also been looking forward to having a sandwich once he got home, did not like to be goaded into actions - and this rendition of Joy to the World seemed particularly grating - but the similarities ended there.

The last of the staff members departed the school, giving the mistletoe’s victims odd glances, and the canned Christmas music faded away. The girl said, So, standing here is boring enough. I’m Shai, and I’ve been a student here for just a few years now. I’ll be graduating this summer though. Shai and Mr. Greer cautiously exchanged small talk to pass the time. She still held some resentment for being where she was, particularly since she felt a steadily growing pressure to move closer to her opposite, but at least he was an interesting conversationalist.

As they touched upon various laws of physics - his specialty apparently - the teacher almost smiled a few times, deepening her contentment with their discussion. It was interesting; when he relaxed, his eyes seemed to shift colour from a flat black to a warm chocolate hue. As she was working to not notice and curbing the urge to step closer, a faint sound caught her attention - that of a door closing, when most of the school was now darkened and empty.

The girl had stiffened abruptly, noticing the matron of the school well before the teacher had. Hello, Sharon. Allen, the principal said, nodding to each in turn. He had observed that his boss had lumped him in with the student by using his first name too, as if removing him of his status - and such shifts in power influenced behaviour.

He uneasily returned her greeting. Hello, Mrs. Bryant. This situation he found himself in was considerably different than the one with Marcie Clayton three years prior, but there were enough echoes to undermine his confidence. He’d done all he could to mitigate the current circumstances short of displaying his spellcrafting abilities in front of non-practitioners, and thus far was being successful.

While grateful that the girl was there so the principal wouldn’t be as likely to air dirty laundry, Allen was buffeted by the thought that he could just kiss Shai - Sharon? - and flee before anything further could happen. Glancing toward her, wondering if it was even a possibility, he noticed the girl shift slightly to position her body between himself and his boss. Equally odd was Mrs. Bryant’s response: the woman opened her hands by her side, palms out to display a peaceful intention, as they were taught to do when approaching an armed person.

Shai frowned, feeling a deep wariness from somewhere. She recognized and understood the principal’s reaction - it made perfect sense. Even with the promises she’d made and the signed pact of non-aggression and a few years of excellent behaviour, what the woman saw was the girl’s instinctively-protective stance; of course caution was required. Shai had a known history - at least to some, including the principal.

The woman kept approaching the range of the mistletoe with cautious determination though, and the girl compared Mrs. Bryant’s sleek red pumps, silvery dress suit, red blouse, and tasteful accessories to her own deliberately-crafted mediocrity. Bitterly, Shai reminded herself that she was still regarded as just a student. These were the grown adults. And if they were planning to meet the mistletoe’s demands so they could free everyone, they could - they -

No. Do not enter this circle, Ma’am, she stated, with no room for debate. Allen blinked in surprise, partly because he’d forgotten Sharon’s earlier belligerence but mainly because the growl in her voice sounded possessive - of him. While the girl’s hands remained lowered, he watched her settle into a fighting stance again, ready to move as needed to keep the principal back.

Allen tried to consider other reasons for the girl’s actions - perhaps she simply didn’t want anyone else ensnared by the villainous mistletoe prank. The effort was unhelpful; in addition to feeling desired by someone willing to fight for him, now he viewed Sharon as noble and compassionate - a worthy ally in the struggle to - to not take her in his arms and gently kiss…

Fiercely taking hold of his magic-addled libido, Allen intuitively called out Stand down! Immediately, Shai came to attention - she knew a Sensei’s command when she heard it, whether from a martial arts instructor or simply a teacher who had the interests of his ‘battalion’ in mind. As she drew up tall with feet together, she witnessed a curious whirl of emotions sweep across Mrs. Bryant’s features. Relief and gratitude, confusion, astonishment and surprise, and a hint of - what, guilt? Fear? There was definitely a backstory here. Shai wondered if she’d ever learn it.

Before he could stop himself Allen took two more steps closer to the girl, which also brought him closer to his boss. His hands itched to pat Sharon on the shoulder, to literally communicate that he ‘had her back’, but the urge to kiss her instead held him back. In this case, Mrs. Bryant, I must agree with the student. An activated mistletoe is in effect here. If you and I were to kiss on school property the board would be after both of our jobs and not just mine. Not that he would particularly mind seeing her replaced, but the thought of any close contact with that woman made him shudder.

The teacher and principal started to bicker: the scandal, not my fault, another student - and only a few years apart, entirely different, while fear and resentment poured over Shai in ripples. It was when the ranting became heated and unreasonable (you promised! never could count on you, I’ll have your job for that!) that her temper again got the best of her.

She turned on her heel, marched the three steps over to Mr. Greer, and spun him to face her. This close, she could see intriguing flecks of purple and green in his black-as-void eyes and she needed her anger to keep herself standing firm. Just stop, Sir, she growled. Not turning from his displeasure she spoke into the echoing silence. Ma’am, with respect, please leave. You may not have him and we’re more stubborn than the mistletoe. I promise you - we are.

Allen certainly was not prepared to argue in a new direction. Blood pulsed in his ears and his fisted hands ached. Too many bad memories and turmoil had been shouted back from the depths where he’d consigned them. He shut his eyes to block out the echoes and the sight of the girl not a full step away, and heard Mrs. Bryant’s footsteps as she retreated to the safety of her office. Slow breaths helped stop the trembles which had accompanied his rage, and he had time to wonder if the horrid mistletoe was amplifying all primal emotions and not simply attraction.

Almost certainly, Shai whispered. There’s about fifteen minutes left, and this is getting meaner. He hadn’t thought he’d spoken aloud. We’ve got this, he replied. I’m sorry you were tangled up in this mess. She sighed. I’m not. What other person would resist the spell simply because that’s what you want? What other person, indeed. Allen compared this teen to Marsha, and while the blonde had been clad in ridiculously seductive clothing and was posed in invitation, she had much less appeal than the plain brunette before him. Self-discipline, reasonable manners, considerate, intelligent - and the assessment was not helping Allen to stay in control.

You will be expelled after this is over. Commanding the principal, as if she were a simple errand-girl - that was not a wise choice. He sagged slightly, unable to erase his role from the dispute. No. Mrs. Bryant is not a fool even if she lost her temper too. We all know the security cameras are running and that the feed is kept at the board office. None of us want an independent agency to go over the footage, seeking proof of threats and motivation. Nobody hit anyone - they’d have to go to audio and transcribe the whole thing. And while Shai still hadn’t learned enough to know what they’d been yelling about, it seemed to be something Mr. Greer and Mrs. Bryant would rather bury - again.

They both stood in silence and Allen shuddered. No; if they went digging for explanations, too much would be revealed - and this time the board would find out everything. He leaned closer to the girl, feeling the magic continually eroding his willpower, and encountered Sharon’s forearms crossed between them. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking into hers just inches away. It seemed she had moved closer, too. Placing his hands on her biceps, he commented, Wise plan.

Oddly, the purple and green sparks had faded from Mr. Greer’s eyes, and they were again a lush brown hue. Shai swallowed hard and managed to speak. As soon as that spell drops, let’s get out of here. I’m so done with this place. Mr. Greer’s hands felt like magic and she almost ached to throw her arms around him and run her fingers through his thick black hair. Too many emotions had been flung around, too much turmoil, too much loneliness - and maybe it could all simply go away with just one kiss.

The intensity of her expression made Allen breathless, and all he could do was nod. And wait. And remind himself that Sharon had promised that they would outlast the mistletoe’s spell. She was standing too close, but he was unable to retreat until the fool prank had run its course. In silence, he remembered the girl’s words to his boss - ‘You may not have him.’ It must have been the burden of the magic which shaped her statements - and he hoped the girl was not unduly affected by his own emotional projection.

At last the relentless pressure to kiss vanished, followed by a flash of uncoloured light and an intense sense of tension approaching headache level. The magical device itself dropped from the ceiling, and as Shai reluctantly stepped back from Mr. Greer she scooped it up. Someone had triggered it; someone was responsible for a very stressful hour. She meant to pay them back in full.

His coat was too far away, back in the science wing offices. Allen had his keys though, and his briefcase would wait until tomorrow when the staff returned to collect tests and essays to grade during the ‘holidays’. As soon as he could move he rushed for the exit, relief shivering in his bones. His car was waiting in the staff parking lot, covered in snow, and he placed his hands on the roof, shut his eyes, and just breathed, making cloudy puffs that faded into the evening gloom. Why did it have to be Marcie again? Was she a part of placing the mistletoe? What would she do next? Would his boss let this go, or…

He stopped thinking. He didn’t know how he knew, but Sharon had just stepped outside. This was a new and unexpected compulsion, which wasn’t at all like the mistletoe prank; this was an almost soul-deep sensation right from the beginning. Allen was a magician though - surely he had the self-discipline to simply get into the car… to get into the car and not… turn aside and march directly back into her presence…

Shai saw Mr. Greer approaching, decisiveness in his stride. Anxious to be freed of the school’s proximity she kept walking, although her steps were steering her directly toward the man with whom she’d shared stress, anxiety, kindness, and determination for far too long. It was remarkably like bobbing in a swimming pool and being drawn into the deep end by the water itself, no matter which way you turned. Any minute now, she’d go under and drown…

Allen didn’t feel the cold. He didn’t feel the alien coercion within his very core forcing him into the girl’s path. In fact, he couldn’t say why or how he found himself standing on the driveway, enveloped by the winter dusk, with his arms wrapped around her waist. He didn’t know what led to their kiss, either. It certainly wasn’t simply a juvenile snub at the magical trick they’d outlasted. Whatever was affecting him - and Sharon presumably - was like a tornado compared to the dust devil strength of the prank.

Falling snow gathered in a halo of diamonds on Allen’s night-black hair and he couldn’t think of anything other than her scent, her taste, before the need to breathe granted them the will to shift apart. Desire had grown, thick and intense, and it threatened to swallow him whole - but with the cold air filling his lungs, fear and shame became more powerful. Gathering all the strength of will that he had left, Allen retreated and breathed Goodnight, before dashing back to his car. The compact vehicle started promptly, driving lights adding their warm glow to the snow swirling on the driveway. He hadn’t known what he would do if he’d seen Sharon standing where he’d left her - sad? forlorn? furious? - but it wasn’t an issue. She had disappeared.

The Hunt

Animating a whirl of snow to mask her escape was easy. So was the leap to the low wall between the driveway and sidewalk, and then to the school roof. Leaving Mr. Greer, though, was not. Shai had felt the heat rising between them, felt his arousal as they pressed their bodies together. It had been a while since a man had shown straightforward interest in her, and this time she was as eager. And unlike the usual effects of a mistletoe binding, that kiss had not ended her need - indeed, it felt amplified.

Anger had helped her turn her back and leave. Shai knew that the man believed being involved with her would cripple his intrinsic integrity - not only did it feel like he’d been screaming the fact along with the recriminations he shared with the principal, but after a kiss like the one they’d just shared, there was no other reason for him to run off, when nobody was making them stop! Frustratingly, she was fairly sure Mr. Greer would stay well away from her unless everything changed - and knowing her luck, he was probably already married.

She was also angry for being forced to endure the hour-and-change of manipulated emotions, conflict, and imprisonment, with no channel for her rage. Grimly, she drew the mistletoe from her pocket. It would still have a trace of the person who’d set it off. Mundanes could buy fetishes like this one and put them up, and possibly a minor effect would happen - exactly like what was going on inside the school. But the effect after the mistletoe compulsion - the passion that still left her tingling - had been charged, powered to achieve its intended ability. A wizard was behind this assault.

While Mr. Greer drove away, Shai initiated her transformation. Her vision swam, then darkened…

*** *** ***

A large man pushed himself to climb the stairs, stumbling up to the top and breathing heavily from the effort. Despite the darkness all around him, he waved to the guys rebuilding a car engine at their workstation and shuffled to the office door. He winced as the relatively bright lights from the room swept over him, revealing his unusually long front teeth, narrow face, large eyes, and sleek brown hairstyle that smoothly skimmed over his scalp. Glittering rings accented each slender finger, brooches spread across his lapels, and the many necklaces he displayed almost formed a solid sheet of shining metal.

Hey, Boss, there was another entrance, he said, with a somewhat squeaky voice. Oh, my pardon - I didn’t know you had company! He wrung his hands, making his many rings tap and tingle together. Don’t worry about it, Mouse, replied a sturdy man, who was regarding an unfamiliar being perched upon a stool. Her black hair was slicked back from a widow’s peak to frame large ears, and her equally dark skin shone in the bright lights. The boss said, Come in and meet Chira. She was just brought over from the farming sanctuary - it was too open and sunny. The warehouse should suit her better.

Mouse shuffled in, and approached as requested. He stuck out a hand, saying Greetings, Miss, and was interrupted by a bizarre sharp buzzing sensation in his ears. Chira smoothly reached to his hand and her wing membrane stretched out below her arm with a soft rustling sound. She clasped Mouse’s proffered hand with her own, which was slightly more slender than his, and sighed. I’m sorry. I couldn’t see you - it’s too bright. It’s just too bright!

Mouse looked over to the other man, raising an eyebrow, and received an explanation. Miss Chira’s eyes are incredibly light-sensitive. In the brightness of the day, she’s effectively blind. She uses radar, as you learned. Rocky ran a thick hand over his short curly grey hair, and added, It’s a lower pitch than bats use, just barely in usual humanoid hearing range. Some of the others at the garden were getting headaches. Chira, it’s just how you’re built, so stop blaming yourself.

Mouse chuckled. Ah, my dear Miss. Allow me to tell Rocky here about my most recent dream and you will see how little you have to worry about now that you have come home. He parked himself on a stack of tires, which sagged slightly beneath his weight, and wiggled his hands with delight.

Rocky dimmed the lights further and brought his steel chair closer to their new community member before drawing her hand over to his shoulder. I’m right here. He stretched far enough to reach the intercom and said briefly, Story time at the office. The large man inclined his head slightly and Rocky waited patiently, knowing that this would be one of the Sanctuary’s better nights - an excellent welcome for a newcomer who felt abandoned by her prior family.

Curious faces peeked down through the stairwell and Mouse’s speech shifted to a penetrating theatre-voice. Welcome, friends, welcome! Allow me to regale you with yet another amazing tale, this one perhaps more unbelievable than the rest! A man with the hind end of a goat trotted down the stairs, muttering, They’re all unbelievable! The satyr took up what looked like a regular position behind the tale-teller, because he quickly fetched a harmonica and began quietly playing background music for the big man. The office filled with people of almost every description, who were careful to not jostle their new companion.

Now, my dear friends, I must impart this truly - truly amazing tale. I was in my nest, sharing tea with Khayaka’s lovely mate, when suddenly… His voice deepened, allowing him to project with less volume. My very perception of reality was disturbed. Yes, exclaimed, with a flourish of one hand, echoed by a trill from Vodes’ harmonica. Everything I could sense of the world was dramatically different! For a strange and mysterious being had just entered our dimension, journeying neither through rift nor portal - it had simply manifested in through some other alien means.

Mouse bowed to Chira from his throne of tires and quietly told her, That is one of my many skills, pretty one. Within a radius of ten kilometres, not even the smallest breach of our home dimension ever escapes my notice. She fluttered in response to Mouse’s compliment, almost preening in an artless display. Rocky nodded quietly at the soundless affirmation of her need to relocate; the Warehouse was often a place for ready praise.

The large man’s voice resumed its booming tone, as he spoke to even the farthest member of his audience. Now as you may know, when a newcomer arrives, I gain an arcane vision of their perceptions. Almost every time, it is a boon - they’ll look at signs, as one does when lost, and voila! I know how to find them. But this - I have never experienced the world like this being does. It does not see - but then again, it does. It does not hear - but then again, it does. Mouse frowned briefly, remembering the vision. He gestured, as if painting swirling motions, and continued. Colour opened up before the creature, but only in distant twinkling motes. The rest of the world was a dark green as boring as American lager, and yet the edges of everything nearby were so crisp and sharp it looked like I could touch them.

The darkness finally bloomed in a wide sphere. The sound of traffic, which was making ‘hush’ sounds as tires pressed forward through slushy snow, completely disappeared. Dark bristly hairs sprouted upon the creature’s flanks and its many lanky limbs, and supple plates the colour of old steel grew from its scalp, neck, and back. The beast rubbed a clump of fake leaves against the leathery skin of its stomach, chest, and throat before it turned its featureless face skyward. It opened its mouth impossibly wide, exposing a flickering light deep inside. An unheard cry burst from the otherworldly beast: the hunt was on.

Mouse made his best ‘look of awe’ expression, gazing off above his audience as if seeing things no one else could, and surreptitiously regarded his audience. He approved of their degree of attentiveness. Now, not only does this creature not see the way we do, or hear the way we do, it does not. Even. Move the way we do! It has eight legs like a spider, holds the front pair up like a praying mantis, and it slides down buildings by digging its claws in and letting gravity pull it. But while it was up on top of the roof of a large building, it was listening, not for sounds, but then again, they were. It began to search for a specific song among many, like trying to spot the flute in a grade-school orchestra just warming up.

The daellihm - for such it was called in mythical regions - remained on the roof while it investigated the exits, seeking the tones that matched the mistletoe. Scent would have been almost impossible to track; hundreds of beings had moved into and out of the building today, and the thick snow was doing an excellent job of burying their aromatic residues. Fortunately, sorcerous resonance tended to echo long after the source had departed.

The dense hide, stretching from the daellihm’s abdomen up to its chin, almost tingled with the deluge of fresh sensation. The monster shivered in the still air, and slowly turned, ‘listening’ for the trail. It was gratified that most of the beings that traveled through the area were of the quietest form of practitioner, and the target was, as expected, relatively audible. It was also unsurprising that the wizard had exited using a less-frequented door. This would almost be easy.

Mouse held up his hands, not by his ears as if he were using them to catch a quiet noise, but closer to his shoulders. Rocky appreciated the man’s ability to communicate with more than words, and would have to write this down sometime soon. The minstrel continued his tale. So our Otherworld beast caught wind of the song, a little more brassy than some, a little less cold than others. I lack the musical talent to share the pitches the beast was hunting for - and yes, my friends, it was definitely hunting, and so soon after its arrival in our dimension! So it slid down the side of the building, got all eight feet on the ground for running, and galloped off into the dark. And believe me, it was dark, even darker than we’d see. Mouse drew a silk handkerchief from a side pocket and wiped his face, taking a moment to gauge his audience. They were striving to visualize his story, and the eagerness of the pursuit shone upon more than half of his friends’ faces. He smiled.

Narrow gouges marked the snow, gravel and tar of the roof where the monster chose to descend. The daellihm’s claws were astonishingly sharp, but flaked with ease. The fine silvery debris whisked by in the beast’s wake and outlined its wide, wedge-shaped prints as it sped off in pursuit of the