Wizard's Bunker: Kit Melbourne, #11

By Kater Cheek

Only a daring heist will save them.

Aaliyah is the most powerful psychic alive, strong enough to twist the fabric of space time. But even Aaliyah is caught wrong-footed when powerful sorcerers of the Society of the Golden Mean are killed simultaneously by mysterious supernatural assassinations. A traitor has stolen magical artifacts, and is now using these arcane items to kill. She needs a powerful mage to help her retrieve these priceless relics—but who among the few survivors can she trust?

 

When Morgan gets an opportunity to work at a mysterious occult retreat, she thinks it's an opportunity to learn the blood magic Kit refuses to teach her. As Morgan explores the subterranean plot, she learns secrets her new employers would kill to keep quiet. But Morgan is determined to steal their treasure for herself, and her ambitions will not be deterred by other thieves getting in her way.

 

Kit and Aaliyah plan a complicated heist to infiltrate the wizards' bunker and recover the enchanted antiques that enabled this assault. But bad luck plagues their every move. Their meticulous planning hadn't accounted for a traitor destroying their escape route.

 

Can they survive the betrayal and get home again?

 

Wizard's Bunker is book eleven in the Kit Melbourne series. If you like heists with double-crossing and plenty of action, then you'll love Kater Cheek's thrilling caper.

Buy Wizard's Bunker to steal your own magical treasure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kater Cheek
• Release date: May 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223879190

Book preview

Chapter One

If Kit had known she was going to be attending a cult meeting, she never would have agreed to go to with Morgan. Morgan, her apprentice, was supposed to have come up to the property the previous weekend. As usual, Morgan cancelled at the last minute, saying she got scheduled to work. Kit wasn’t sure if that was true or not. Something had been going on with Morgan, and Kit wasn’t sure what it was. Dante and Morgan used to come up together, but since their breakup it had become even harder to schedule Morgan’s visits. Kit had to do most correspondence by email, since the cell phone reception at their property was so spotty it was nonexistent, and their Wi-Fi wasn’t that great either. Agreeing on a time and place to meet in person felt like some kind of a victory.

I’m glad you finally agreed to come, Morgan said, tapping her hands against the steering wheel in time to the music. You’re gonna love it.

Kit let Morgan drive them to the club meeting, or whatever it was they were going to, because she didn’t like the idea of her car being spotted in the city. Kit felt nervous about being in Seabingen again, especially after dark. She actually went to the effort of disguising herself by altering her faerie glamour and asked Morgan to give people a fake name, which Morgan scoffed at but reluctantly agreed to. Kit had left vampires and the Vampire Guild behind her, but had they left her? Morgan rolled her eyes about Kit’s paranoia, but then, Morgan was always like that. She never saw the danger in anything.

Kit’s disguise was pretty minor. She kept her eyes the same but changed her mouth and nose to make them look wider, and she changed her normal hair to look like tight, light brown curls. Faerie glamours made great disguises and also terrible disguises. On one hand, her face looked different enough that no one who saw a photo of her that night would think she was Kit Melbourne. On the other hand, it would take Kit over an hour to readjust her glamour so that she looked like herself again.

Kit’s suggestion to meet up had been mostly out of guilt that she hadn’t seen Morgan for a few weeks, but Morgan seemed to think it was going to be a bitch session about Dante. As Kit looked out the window at the familiar landmarks of Seabingen, feeling slightly nostalgic, Morgan went on about the reasons she dumped Dante, mostly having to do with him not inviting her to be his plus one at vampire functions. Kit totally understood Dante’s desire to keep Morgan well away from vampire society, having experienced quite enough vampiric violence for one lifetime, but you could never tell Morgan anything. Even the fact that Dante was a good friend of Kit’s seemed lost on Morgan, as she vented about Dante’s faults with the vitriol expected of a newly ex-girlfriend. Morgan’s tasteless obliviousness made Kit wonder how long they were going to remain friends. As soon as Kit got a chance, she cut into the tirade and changed the subject.

So, what is this thing we’re going to, anyway? Your group is called ‘Achievement Wizards?’ what does the group do, anyway?

We achieve.

Achieve what? Kit asked.

You’ll see. It’s too hard to explain. Dante came with me once, but he’s a null. Morgan drove to an abandoned mall, or at least it would have looked like an abandoned mall except that there was a cluster of cars under the spotlights near the far end.

What’s a null?

You’ll see. We’re here. After parking her car in one of the hundreds of empty spots, Morgan led her to glass doors obscured with decals, graffiti, and political signs. They pushed through the doors to find themselves in an old department store which had been converted into a kind of community center.

Kit winced. The interior was intensely bright the way office buildings often were. What used to be some kind of a perfume or makeup display was now a reception area with an open box of stale donuts and a half-full pot of coffee gurgling on a burner. Morgan led Kit along the linoleum path with its 1980s stripe of mauve until it veered left to a curtained-off area filled with chairs, chatting people, and a pair of men setting up for some kind of presentation.

Kit wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it. Dante had mentioned that Morgan was involved in a cult of some kind but he made it sound like a cross between a multi-level marketing scheme and a church. She’d expected white robes and some kind of a temple, not a repurposed mall with group therapy vibes.

Hiiiii, Morgan flung out her arms to hug some people who approached her, squealing the greeting with an intonation worthy of a bridal shower documentary. So good to see you! You’re all looking fabulous, and I hear someone is up for her OB2, am I right?

The other woman shrugged coquettishly, lapping up the envy-tinged praise. Just have one more SB test and then my coach says I’m ready to schedule my exam.

Where’s Tyler? Morgan asked. I didn’t see him on the way in.

The OB2 debutante shrugged and looked away, as if she was uncomfortable about it.

I heard he didn’t make quota, the second woman said, sotto voce. He got put on probation.

What? No! I didn’t even know he was in the red. Morgan had more emotion than Kit would expect about a casual friend. He’s not out-out, is he?

But someone tapping on a mic cut off any answer to Morgan’s question. The women smiled brief goodbyes and Morgan quickly ushered Kit to seats as the speaker got started.

Welcome, welcome, I’m seeing a lot of new faces here. That’s good, that’s good. The man wore a three-piece suit and spoke like he gave speeches for a living. He was middle-aged guy, a little on the portly side, and he had a way of pausing after each sentence as if waiting for the crowd to laugh at his jokes, which they did. I’m gonna tell you a story, now, some of you may have heard this before, but we got some new faces here, so I’m gonna tell it anyway. It’s about when I first tried to learn magic.

Kit looked at Morgan, but Morgan was staring enrapt at the speaker. Kit paid attention, deciding having an open mind would help her. She was always interested in learning something new.

—the first coven I joined back in high school. Picture this: five teenagers, not a spell between us, sneaking into caves to light candles and spray paint pentacles on the walls. Polite laughter. Real magic, right? Louder laughter. 

The speech kept building, a crescendo of familiar jokes and almost rehearsed call-and-responses, as he talked about how he’d given up hope of ever learning real magic until he found Achievement Wizards. And then I met this guy named Tony, you all know Tony. Is he here tonight? Tony, I see you there in the back, don’t be shy, stand up and wave. Anyway, Tony brought me to this little group, he paused for effect. A little group called Achievement Wizards. You ever hear of them?

Raucous laughter.

I got rid of my black cloak, and I got rid of my spray paint, because it turns out putting pentacles on walls just means you don’t get your security deposit back. Never have another TLP again, am I right?

The crowd cheered.

What’s a TLP? Kit whispered.

Morgan shushed her.

Kit tried to follow the speech, but it was peppered with so many acronyms and jargon that she wasn’t sure she understood what they were talking about. She started to get bored. Kit looked over her shoulder towards the door, wondering if she should just elbow her way past the people and leave. But the rows of chairs were pretty close together, and they were sitting in the middle of the row so she’d have to convince a half dozen people to stand up so she could get past.  Just as she had leaned forward to stand up, the speaker pointed at her.

And we have a few new recruits here tonight. The speaker singled out a man who was goaded to his feet by his companion, waving shyly to people, and then another man in the back with stiffly folded arms. Kit hoped that was the end of it but then the speaker pointed directly at her. Morgan brought a new recruit, says she’s got a lot of natural talent. Say hello, everyone.

Kit had never liked public speaking, and the shock of being singled out made her limbs go cold.

What’s your spec?

Kit glanced around the room, where dozens of eyes were staring at her expectantly. She hated Morgan for putting her on the spot like that. What’s a spec?

The MC laughed, and there was an echoing ripple of laughter. A specialty. Like this. He held up his hand and a brief flicker of flame burst from it.

She makes wards, Morgan said.

Hedge witch, eh? Could be worse, could be worse. The speaker’s expression and tone said that hedge witchcraft was secondhand crap and not the designer label of magic he was hoping for, but he was attempting to not be a snob about it. Stick around, maybe you’ll learn some real magic. Okay, enough chit chat, who’s up for some achieving?

The crowd gave an enthusiastic Pentecostal-worthy cheer and everyone began folding the metal chairs and putting them against the walls. By the alacrity with which the organizers corralled volunteers to start bringing out bags of salt and candles, this was the evening’s main attraction.

First time’s free, Morgan said. This is our ritual to boost your latent talents.

After the group had moved all the chairs to the outside of the room, everyone took hands and formed a giant oblong circle that circled back and back onto itself to fit into the room. Kit didn’t have time to puzzle out the geometry of it, because Morgan had moved somewhere else, and Kit found herself holding hands with a fifty-something woman on her left hand and a sweaty teen in a poorly-fitting suit on her right.

The chant, when it began, reminded Kit of one of those elementary school rhymes with the patterned clapping, but instead of clapping, they squeezed each of her hands with a rhythm coinciding with the words. She couldn’t have told you what the words were. There seemed to be a simple rhyme about bringing the energy flowing within you, and a second rhyme about boys and girls and men and women and animals all growing strong, but the crowd was singing it slightly off kilter, like in a round or two melodies at the same time so that sometimes it was we all grow strong under the sun and then the pacing would be off and it would sound like legs and arms under the earth and then it would shift again and she’d hear we lift our legs and arms to the sun and put our roots under the earth. It would have felt like a cross between a third-grader’s recital and a hippy sing-along except for the energy in the room.

Kit felt magic happening.

And it was flowing through her.

They were singing loudly, but it wasn’t just the volume, it was the resonance, where everyone hit the same word at the same time and it felt like the word was reverberating through her entire body. The words might have been feel good, dorky sunshine and positivity crap, but something about the way they were singing it rocked harder than being in a mosh pit of an epic concert.

When it finally ended, and the sweaty teen and the middle-aged woman both let go of Kit’s hands and found a little more personal space, Kit could still feel the energy pulsating through her.

Did you achieve? someone asked her, breathily, and Kit didn’t know what that meant, so she just nodded.

People patted her on the back, congratulating her for her first achievement and telling her things like you never forget your first achievement to which Kit would normally have made a snarky inappropriate comment, but she was still vibrating as if she’d been napping on top of a dodgy washing machine for the last hour. Her body felt simultaneously numb and tingly.

Amazing, right? Morgan said, glowing like she’d just come of the best ride at the amusement park. First time I did it, I knew I had to have more of it. I swear, it’s better than sex. Come on, let’s get you signed up.

Signed up for what? Kit asked.

For your next session. Morgan looked at her as if she were being dense. You’re gonna wanna pay for six months up front. You save almost a thousand dollars that way.

Kit was all ready to sign up, until she saw how much the sessions cost. The price list felt like a gut punch. No wonder Morgan had made such a big deal about the first one being free. But as the feeling began to ebb from her body, the tingle of magic left a kind of panic in its wake. She had to feel this again. Whatever this was, she needed more of it.

As they waited in line by the table to register, Kit saw other people also buzzing with the effect, basking in the rush of the ritual. The other newcomer was on the phone, holding one ear closed against the noise as she excitedly talked up the event and exhorted the other person to sign up with her.

You get a 10% discount if you bring someone with you, the MC said affably to Kit. Or if you’re in Morgan’s price tier, you get a 40% discount, but you have to meet a quota of new recruits. And they can’t be nulls.

What’s a null? Kit asked.

Most people have some kind of latent magic ability, Morgan said, with a cadence like she was repeating someone else’s lecture. Mine is that I can sense ghosts. You’re a hedge witch. But some people have absolutely nothing. They’re nulls and can’t achieve. Dante was a null.

Yeah, vampires are usually nulls, the speaker said. You got any friends in town who might want to boost their latent power? I bet you do. Think about how happy they’ll be when you introduce them to what Achievement Wizards can do for them. Tell you what, sign up now, and if you make an account and add a new recruit before the sign up closes tomorrow morning, I’ll give you the discount when you both come next time.

Great, Kit said. Wait, the next session is in two weeks? I thought you met every week.

Next week’s session is for higher level students, YB1 and above, like Morgan here. The next beginning session is in two weeks. If you’re short of cash now, you can pay then.

Kit didn’t hide her disappointment. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go two more weeks before achieving again. The effects appeared to have a half-life, and as the high of achieving faded, an ache as bad as nicotine withdrawal pulled at her.

Morgan drove Kit back to her car. Kit had left her car in a strip mall parking lot on the outskirts of town. She’d left it under a lamp, close to the entrance to the outlet store for some kind of camping outfitter. Instead of driving home, Kit scrolled through her contacts list. She tended not to delete people from her phone, even after she’d fallen out of touch with them, and looking through the names felt like a trip down memory lane. Because so many of the people she used to interact with when she worked for the Vampire Guild were vampires, she listed her contacts by last name, even now.

Jackie used to be Kit’s best friend, but Kit had lost touch with her. When was the last time she’d talked to Jackie? Months ago. Kit called Jackie, preparing a breezy hey, let’s just catch up speech.

Kit? Wow, it’s been forever. Hey, listen, I’d love to catch up sometime soon, but we’re just in the middle of a movie and then I’m going to bed.

Bed? It’s just past seven thirty.

Oh, we’re in Florida right now, visiting his family. Sorry. Maybe Saturday? Wait, I got a thing next weekend, I’ll be busy. Maybe the weekend after that?

Sure, Kit said, feeling a strange mixture of shame and disappointment. She didn’t even know who the we was in that we’re watching a movie. Jackie was seeing someone seriously enough to fly to the other side of the continent and visit his family? And she hadn’t even known, which meant she’d done a terrible job of maintaining the friendship. That would be great.

Kit continued to scroll through her phone. Vampire, vampire, dead vampire, enemy vampire, dead, vampire, dead vampire. Did she really know so few humans? Kit reached the H section of her contacts list. Holmes, Silvara.

Another pang of guilt and shame. How long had it been since Kit talked to Silvara, who used to be her dearest friend? But still, Silvara definitely had some kind of latent magic talent. She would definitely be able to achieve.

Talking to Silvara was even more awkward and embarrassing than talking to Jackie. Kit hadn’t exactly faked her own death, but she’d encouraged the rumor that she’d died, and asked those who knew she was alive to keep it quiet. Once Silvara expressed relief learning Kit was well, and Kit heaped apology after apology for not calling, giving Silvara a brief rundown of the dangerous events that necessitated her skipping town, Kit brought up the reason she’d called.

I just went to this amazing thing. My apprentice brought me. It’s, well, it’s hard to explain, but they want me to bring a friend next time and I thought you’d be interested. The group is called Achievement Wizards.

Silvara took a long pause before answering. Kit, come over to my house. You can tell me more about it while we catch up.

Okay, but I need to fix my glamour first. I don’t look like me right now. I’ll be over within the hour.

Kit flipped down the visor of her car and opened the slide to reveal the mirror. As she carefully unpeeled the jewel from her forehead, the altered glamour came into view. She usually started with the hair, because making the curls darker and relaxing them so they fell around her shoulders was much easier than trying to mold her nose and lips back into her own features.

It wouldn’t budge.

Kit frowned. Altering her glamour wasn’t easy, but it didn’t take a lot of force. It was hard the same way it was hard to sculpt a face out of modeling clay; it took finesse but no strength. Sometimes she did it wrong and ended up looking like an internet influencer who wasn’t that great at photo editing. Sometimes it seemed to slide into place perfectly. But she’d never been unable to shift it.

Even turning her hair dark again took so much effort that Kit’s head began to ache. Pushing down panic and confusion, Kit decided to ignore it for now and drive to visit Silvara. The important thing was convincing Silvara to sign up so that Kit could afford the next session. Kit rummaged in the glove box for the spare bottle of spirit gum she kept there (she kept spare bottles everywhere) and glued her jewel back on.

Silvara lived in a very nice neighborhood of Seabingen, one of the older neighborhoods with mature trees and Craftsman-style houses. The driveway had several cars parked in it, and as Kit approached the house, she saw a teenage girl get into one of the cars and drive off, blasting pop music. Kit approached from the street rather than the driveway so she could admire the stone path meandering through the moss and Japanese maples leading to the front porch.

The front door had been left ajar, so Kit knocked on the screen door and called out Hello!

Silvara approached from the kitchen, wearing one of her signature elaborate outfits. This one was a flowing silver-grey satin shawl over a violet pantsuit heavily embroidered with camellias. Her hair was mostly silver now, with a corresponding change in the giant pair of wings springing from her back. The wings were mostly illusion, a symbol of her priestess role within the Pagan community. They were supernaturally given, and not visible to everyone.

Can I help you? Silvara frowned.

I couldn’t fix my glamour, Kit said sheepishly. I’ll have to work on it later.

Kit? Silvara opened the door and pulled Kit into an embrace, which made Kit feel both comforted and guilty for having lost contact with her old friend. I’m so glad you’re not dead. Come in, I put the kettle on.

The kettle began to whistle, and Kit followed Silvara through the cozy, green, bookshelf-lined living room into the kitchen. The kitchen remained much as Kit remembered it. The stove had been swapped out for a stainless steel one, and the refrigerator had a different selection of photos, but the blue and white curtains looked the same as they had been ten years earlier. Had it been it ten years since Kit was in that kitchen? It must have been, but surely it hadn’t been that long, had it?

The kitchen table was round, made of heavy oak and had feet that looked like claws. Generations of kids banging spoons and coffee drinkers’ absentmindness had scarred the table’s ancient surface, and the chairs matched. Kit straightened the chair’s frilled cushion and retied it to the chair back before she sat on it. Is Iris driving already? I saw a girl get into a car outside.

Yes, that was her. She’s going out with her friend. She just got her license. Elianto’s here upstairs. She’s in high school now.

Kit shook her head, trying to recover from the shock of the two little kids she used to babysit being nearly adult. Getting Silvara to agree to be a recruit was still the first thing on her mind, but now nostalgia steeped into her as heavily as the mint tea from the mug. How are you doing? How’s business?

When Kit had first moved to Seabingen, Silvara was second only to Kit’s big brother James in the list of people Kit relied on. Kit had worked for her for a time, doing floral displays on consignment for Silvara’s floral shop. They talked about the shop, about the changes she’d made, which business decisions went well and which ones didn’t.

I’ve been hearing your name come up, Kit. Before everyone started saying you were dead, you’d been gaining a reputation as a powerful witch in Pagan circles.

Silvara was also a witch, though for her it was secondary to being a Pagan priestess. Most Pagans were witches and most witches were Pagans, but some were more into the magic and some were more into the religion. Kit had begun studying witchcraft out of a desire to learn magic more than from spiritual passion. It was only later that she made her connection with Yseulta the forest goddess.

Yes, Holzhausen and I founded a mage house and now it’s me and another mage named Felix and his apprentice Sam and my apprentice Morgan. Morgan’s the one who introduced me to Achievement Wizards. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about tonight. Kit told Silvara about the event that night, but she didn’t think she adequately conveyed how amazing it had been, because Silvara’s expression stayed quite neutral. Kit finished her pitch, with, So, how about it? Will you go with me next time?

Instead of agreeing to go or refusing, Silvara took a sip of her tea and then set the mug on the table, swirling the spoon around to wind the teabag’s string and then unwinding it again.

One of the reasons witches join covens is that we are all more powerful in a group than we are individually. When you practice magic with other witches—witches you trust—there’s strength in community. There are some witches in this city with whom I’m so close that if one of us fell on the ice and broke her arm, several of us would know instantly. It can be very powerful, this feeling of connection. The closest thing to it is the feeling you get from being in a band that plays together and seems to know where the music is going without anyone discussing it, or a married couple that finish one another’s sentences.

I feel like that’s what I experienced tonight. It was communal magic. It was like being at an epic concert, only somehow even better.

These rituals have a way of binding people together. That can be a double-edged blade. Silvara paused. Do you trust those people?

No, Kit said. She was starting to feel a new emotion, like coming back to her car after a visit to the mall and finding out she’d left the car unlocked and the key in the ignition. I barely know them.

And what are they doing with the energy they raise? What spell did you all perform together?

Well, nothing, really ...

What were they doing with the energy then? Silvara had always been a patient and wise mentor to Kit, but now her patience and wisdom seemed even more cultivated, like she had distilled her personality and added extract of Silvara liberally to her voice and face, for extra kindness and understanding, which had the ironic effect of making Kit feel even worse. Did they tell you what they intended to do with the energy they raised?

No. They said something about unlocking my potential. Kit experimentally tried to use her telekinesis to flutter the tag on the teabag string, but it just made the top of her head flame up in an excruciating headache. Probably dehydration or something. The headache wasn’t related to Achievement Wizards. Why would people keep going if the group didn’t make you a stronger mage?

Silvara swirled her string around her spoon. When I first went to one of their sessions, I felt like you afterwards, buzzing with excitement and ready to sign up. I’m not a powerful witch like you are. I thought this had unlocked something in me. That’s what they told me. It felt right. You felt it. It’s powerful. The spells my coven does are subtle, delicate. Sometimes you don’t notice an effect until the seasons change. I didn’t notice a difference until I tried to do a purification spell and realized something was off. My purification spell is the most powerful thing I do. Even nonbelievers attest it benefits them. But after a few sessions at Achievement Wizards, I noticed it wasn’t working right.

Kit was now feeling like she’d come back to her car after a trip to the mall and found an unexpected pile of broken glass on the asphalt by her driver’s side window. Not being able to use her teek or alter her glamour terrified her like not being able to use her hands, but she didn’t want to believe that was true. Surely it was just a fluke? Do you think that was because of Achievement Wizards?

Silvara sighed. I don’t like to speak ill of any other witches. We have experienced so much bias that it does not do to create it among ourselves. But I think Achievement Wizards is too much like a pyramid scheme for my comfort. In my coven, we agree on the task we wish to perform and work in concert. In Achievement Wizards, from what I have seen, those on the bottom provide their energy to those further up the ladder.

Kit had been trying to move the teabag string, and it fluttered, but that could have been just air currents in the kitchen. The headache flared, making her not want to try again. She winced. You think they were just using you?

There’s so much we don’t know about how magic works. Silvara shrugged. Some others in our coven got very involved with Achievement Wizards. It blew through the Pagan community like wildfire. We’d never heard of it and then suddenly everyone was going to their sessions. Some people got turned off of it and get angry if you even mention them. Other people joined Achievement Wizards and dropped out of our coven entirely, or were asked to not come back because they wouldn’t stop harassing people to buy in.

I should have realized you’d already been asked. You do know a lot of people, Kit said. The urge to go to another session was still there, pangs of withdrawal like needing a cigarette. But she didn’t want to contradict Silvara, because Silvara had always given her good advice, had always been there for her.

Silvara patted Kit’s forearm. I recruited eight people into Achievement Wizards. Two of them were called nulls and told they had no talent. One of them hated the way it made him feel and never went back. I think they were the lucky ones. Some of the others went into debt to pay for the sessions, or started recruiting so hard they damaged friendships. I was one of the first in our social circle.  When I think about how I brought people I trusted to that group, I feel ashamed. I don’t think it’s a good place, especially for true witches. Witchcraft is about being closer to the divine, about finding a way to live in concordance with natural rhythms. There’s no get-rich-quick-scheme, no shortcuts. You can’t make a turnip grow faster by tugging at the roots.

She felt very uncomfortable. Kit didn’t want to say Silvara was wrong, but she must have just had a different experience. What Kit experienced was nothing short of magical. She’d felt it. Kit wanted to change the subject, so she told Silvara a story about Jade trying to help in the garden by pulling up all the baby carrots. This naturally segued into talking about plants, a subject both of them could converse about for hours. Kit told Silvara about the property she shared with Fenwick and the kids up in the mountains, about the plants she could grow and what hazards there were and about the increased threat of fire that summer, especially with all the rain they’d had that spring. Kit invited Silvara to bring her family up sometime and see the property, and Silvara said it sounded nice in a tone that made it unclear if she was just being polite or might take Kit up on it.

Kit, you keep wincing. Are you okay?

Just a headache. The emotions of the evening were beginning to catch up with Kit, and suddenly, she wanted to be home, behind her wards, on her land, with her family. She had a lot of work to do the next day in her herb garden, harvesting the plants she needed for her spells and tinctures. She had work to do to help clear brush away from the house and dig firebreaks. They needed to make more backpack sprayers. She had to do some weeding in her vegetable bed.

Kit drank the rest of her tea, which had gone cold during their conversation, and she and Silvara said their goodbyes.

On the walk, Kit texted Fenwick to say she was on her way home so he wouldn’t worry about her. They both had reason to worry if she went to Seabingen. She’d made strong efforts to avoid going to Seabingen, especially at night. But at least she wasn’t wearing her own face. As she walked down the stone path to her car, Kit glanced around at the familiar neighborhood with its thick-trunked shade trees rippling the sidewalk and the small front yards ornately gardened by houseproud owners. The oak at the corner of Silvara’s yard was a dryad named Nuala. Kit had not interacted with her, but she could see the slightly feminine shape of the dryad’s human form.

Kit stopped at the gnarled roots and placed her hand against the scarred knob where a branch had been pruned, closing her eyes to sense the tree more fully. Dryads were, of course, sacred to Yseulta, Kit’s patron goddess. Kit wasn’t trying to engage with the tree so much as saying a polite hello as she passed, but the dryad responded, asking Kit to pause.

Wooden fingers closed around her own. Kit reflexively jerked back, trying to escape, though the dryad wasn’t hurting her. Hold still, the dryad seemed to be saying, I need to fix something.

This urban oak didn’t feel like other dryads. This oak grew in the space between the sidewalk and the street. She was gritty and strident and used to bullying to get enough space to exist. Branches curled down, tangling in Kit’s hair to get her to stop moving.

Kit stopped moving, as uncomfortable as a child whose mother was removing a splinter with tweezers. It felt like the twigs were going straight into Kit’s brain, though she knew objectively that it was just the spiritual tendrils of the dryad and not any actual wood.

They were entangled, body and soul, parts of the dryad bleeding over into Kit’s consciousness. She felt the dryad’s roots shoving the pavement out of the way, her tough oak branches like parts of Kit’s own body, and yet not Kit’s body. And the dryad felt her too, shoving her consciousness into Kit and mucking around in there. It hurt, whatever she was doing. It felt like the dryad had made a beeline to bruises Kit didn’t know she had and was pressing hard on them. A small whimper escaped her. The dryad seemed to be trimming off bits of Kit’s skull and replacing them with wood, increasing the pain to nearly unbearable.

And then the pain stopped.

Better? The dryad seemed to be saying, but with the smugness of a mom who finally combed that snarl out of your hair. You’re welcome.

The branches retreated, until once again Kit was just a woman standing on the sidewalk with her palm over the knob of wood. Kit held still, mentally scanning her body for what felt different. The crown of her head felt scarred over, like a ripped branch that had been neatly pruned. The headache vanished. It was like she had grown protective bark, just enough psychic armor to scab over the wound she hadn’t known she had.

And Kit also suspected that Achievement Wizards was equivalent to drilling holes in her own bark and inviting beetles in to feast on her precious cambium.

Kit felt like she’d come back to her unlocked car after having been in the mall all day and found her wallet and keys still intact, despite the puddle of broken glass on the asphalt, as though she had done something terribly stupid and escaped negative consequences through sheer dumb luck.

Thank you, she whispered to the oak dryad, and hurried to her car.

Chapter Two

Aaliyah was not in the mood to talk to Granny Pearl. She had far too much work to do to make sure that the symposium went off without a hitch. It was the biggest event hosted by the Society of the Golden Mean since David became Archmagus, and she