Christian paused just outside the chain link fence that protected a schoolyard not far from downtown.
He tended not to read the newspaper regularly, since mostly it saddened him to be unable to help against so very much pain over the entire world. He did hear local news, though; more than one customer over the weekend had mentioned the recent rash of harassment, far beyond normal, that had been occurring in this schoolyard. It was inevitable that some children would torment others—he had vivid memories of always being “the weird one” himself—and that was the job of the school's staff to monitor. And sometimes, it went to extremes that felt inhuman, but for entirely too human reasons.
At least three of the regular customers who had brought it up had wandered by here—in one case on a hunch, in one case on a slight detour on her way to work, and in one case for no reason he'd been able to articulate—and all three had felt a sense of wrongness. Christian knew that all three of them were, while not strictly witchblood, at least somewhat sensitive.
The sense of wrongness was certainly real, but unlike them, he could identify the source. There was definitely something here. Where it had come from and why it had chosen this place, he neither knew nor cared. It was quite likely that it was connected to recent events, though, and he could at least make sure that it wasn't here when school started again tomorrow morning.
He followed the fence to the unlocked gate, and pushed it open. There was no one in sight, not entirely a surprise since it was well after dark and the whole space was illuminated only by sulphur-yellow street lights and a couple of harsh-white security lights. All senses alert, he made his way cautiously across the yard, orienting on the strongest stain of terror.
Unsurprisingly, it was in one corner, sheltered somewhat from direct view by a stand of mid-sized trees that he thought were Manitoba maples, though with no leaves it was hard to be sure. He chose a spot in the centre and pulled a small rug out of his backpack, spread it on the trampled snow and settled himself cross-legged, closing his eyes and turning all his attention to his inner senses.
In this season, most life was dormant or entirely absent. The trees barely pulsed with it, though it was only a couple of weeks until the spring solstice and they were ready to surge back to full green vitality soon. Grass and clover waiting for spring, tiny insect lives suspended deep beneath the ground… and just a trace of something that was almost there. He tried to focus on it, but it slipped away, no more easily pinpointed than clear glass through water.
He spread his inner senses farther, wrapping them around the entire schoolyard, though it made him feel like there was pressure behind his eyes. There was definitely something there that was very real, the indistinct power signature not very strong. He got enough of a sense of it, though, to be certain that he was right about what it was. Which meant he couldn't just drive off the liminal causing this; he was going to have to kill en.
Technically, he could walk away and ask Alexandra to come and deal with it. The small phone in his pocket, her gift to him, meant that option was easily accessible.
While he really didn’t want to personally take a liminal life, it didn’t feel right to just sic his lamia on anything he wanted dead and pretend that his hands were somehow cleaner that way. If he made the decision, he was responsible. And this wasn’t anything so powerful or dangerous that he shouldn’t be able to handle it alone—as long as he was careful.
Which meant he had to pinpoint ens location.
He reached down, searching for the power-flows in the earth below. One of the countless thin streams, barely a trickle, was nearby; that was all he needed for this. He hoped. He took a couple of slow, deep breaths, and tapped into it.
What he'd learned about manipulating energy from feeding Alexandra had actually proven extremely useful in channelling external sources, and from the juno loci, he’d picked up enough hints that he could access at least one kind of external source. Carefully, he drew the power into himself, gathering it. When he judged he had enough, he flung it outwards all at once, like a searchlight. Against the bright background thus generated, he spotted a shape, entirely unlike the simple glow of the trees—or the brilliantly-haloed deep shadow he'd have seen if Alexandra were here. This one was simply a dimmer place in all the light.
Attention fixed on that, he got up slowly, and tracked en towards the big wood and metal climber that dominated this end of the schoolyard.
A shadow flickered along it, where no shadow should have been.
He'd found his target, now what?
He reached through the link that remained with the stream below, collecting more power. En knew he was here now, even if en hadn't when he first arrived, and en knew that he was a witch; his best chance was probably to hit en fast and hard with everything he had.
Something tickled the back of his mind; instinctively, he sidestepped, and opened his eyes to see a rock half the size of his fist whip past him.
“I don't scare that easily,” he said. Still not entirely used to the eerie effect of faint light outlining his hands, he shaped the power into a dagger of crimson and gold and flung it at the place his mental senses told him his target was.
Since the water elemental incident, Alexandra had been making him practice, pushing him into chasing her around the house and trying to capture or injure her, encouraging the resident liminals and elementals to do their best to interfere. Once they’d accepted that it would make Christian safer if he could do more on his own, they’d gotten over their reluctance. Even Sid got involved. Even going all-out, he couldn’t beat Lexa or even hurt her, but the attempts had pushed his limits hard, again and again, forcing him to experiment with different approaches that might otherwise never have occurred to him.
It also helped his aim. He heard a kind of mental shriek as the shadow on the climber vanished. He closed his eyes again briefly, looking for en. The liminal jerked back and forth erratically, maybe trying to figure out where en could hide. The unpredictable movements made it tricky to target en; his next two attacks went frustratingly wide.
What else could he do?
Hmm. I can't hit en 'cause en’s moving too much. So... can I stop en from moving, or at least slow en down?
He tried weaving the power into a net instead of a dagger. That took a little longer than he liked, and he had to dodge two more rocks, someone's discarded glass juice bottle, and a short heavy dead branch. Protecting himself and holding concentration simultaneously was tricky. He dropped the net once and had to start over. Without Alexandra's lessons, he very much doubted he could have done it at all.
Finally, he tossed the net at en, focused intently on what he wanted it to do.
The much wider surface of the net proved successful where the daggers hadn't: it touched the shadow-thing, and wrapped around en tightly, pinning en in place. En wailed without audible sound, grating against his witch senses, as en squirmed desperately.
He could get a good look at en, now, and that was enough for identification. En was one of the less pleasant types of liminal creatures, the ones Seth called 'fear-eaters' because they had no mouths, living entirely on the energy generated by fear. They tended to linger in abusive households most often, since they had very little power and found it easier to feed on what was already being created, but some of them could work in small ways to encourage it.
Christian winced to himself, as he crossed the distance to en. En had to die, there was absolutely no question about that, but to kill something helpless made him distinctly uncomfortable. He’d done it once before this winter, and hated it. Since en was a liminal, he couldn’t even make it sleep first. Everything he’d found in the library made it clear that an attempt at that mercy would be unreliable and potentially dangerous.
With a sigh, he shaped another dagger, dropped to one knee, and thrust it into the fear-eater's chest where ens heart should logically be.
At least en followed the rules to that extent: en squealed soundlessly and went limp. Warily, he kept the net around en, uncertain that en wasn't just playing dead. Now that en wasn't moving or throwing things at him, en was pathetically small, a roughly humanoid creature with dark grey skin and long thin hands, bulbous head and spindly body, huge eyes and no mouth at all.
He retrieved his rug, dropped it next to the creature’s body, and knelt there so he could hold one hand palm-down over it. Eyes closed, he channelled the flow of the stream below directly into it. Once he had that in place, he opened his eyes again.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Slowly, the corpse began to shrivel and shrink in on itself. Christian held the channel steady, his hand beginning to tremble from the position.
Only when nothing remained but an area of snow dusted with fine grey did he sever the link. He stayed where he was for a moment, waiting until he had his balance back and stopped feeling light-headed.
That should take care of any extramundane exacerbation of whatever the normal situation in the schoolyard was. Whatever the children did to each other without liminal help, well, that was in their hands.
Carefully, he got to his feet and picked up the rug, shaking it out and rolling it to stow in his backpack. He might not be in a position to help with some of the great evils of the world, but he could at least try to minimize the ones in his own city.
The clock of the historic cathedral, even older than the Terevan house, began to chime. It didn’t actually carry all that far, unlike the bells it had probably had originally, but he was fairly close to it here.
How was it six o’clock already?
He scrambled for his phone, and called Mark.
“Hello. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s dead. Fear-eater. It took longer than I expected, since I thought it was probably just some leftover bad energy or something. Val...”
“Is here. I let her in and told her you’d be back soon. She’s getting dice and books and snacks and stuff set up in the dining room without you, and she promised to listen for the door. Seemed reasonable to just let her handle it. It’s a bit chilly for leaving them all on the porch until you get home.”
“Oh, good. Thank you.”
“Yep. Don’t worry about it. Headed home now?”
“As soon as I can catch a bus.”
Mark sighed audibly. “Call a cab. From somewhere that there are lights on, not someplace with no one in sight for blocks. I’ll give you back the money for it. Just come home, would you? Sid and I are hanging out back in the living room but I think we’d both be happier if you were here to keep your gamers in line.”
“You make them sound like an invading horde. All right, won’t argue. I’ll be home as fast as I can.”
***
“Okay. That's a wrap,” Christian said lightly. “See you in two weeks, folks. And I am really sorry about being late.”
“You’ve apologized repeatedly for that,” Isaac said. “It’s not nearly as big a deal as you think it is. Life happens.”
All five players began gathering up books, paper, and dice, Dana and Clay hardly missing a beat in their debate over the best way to get the map they needed from the sylph who knew where it was hidden. Will and Val added occasional comments, Isaac simply listening.
Clay and Will waited while Dana used the half-bath in the hall, then they said their good-nights and departed together; Isaac left to go the opposite direction. Val lingered.
“Want help cleaning up?”
“Won't turn it down,” Christian said, pushing back his chair to start collecting empty glasses. “Although you did do all the setup earlier.”
“Chris, relax. No one is mad at you for being a bit late. I promise. You can stop feeling bad about it. It’s just one of those things. Whatever you were doing, it’s your business.”
“Just... checking out a spot a lot of people have been getting bad vibes. And lost track of time.”
“The schoolyard? I heard a few whispers about that. Just as well if it’s no longer a thing. Being late is not the end of the world. Seriously. You’re too hard on yourself sometimes.”
“Probably. I never was very good at having friends.”
She laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing just fine with me, and obviously with Mark. It’s easier for some people when they get older and start being able to choose a social circle instead of being forced to interact mostly with classmates. Maybe you’re like that. Let it go, okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll try. Thanks for putting up with me.”
She just smiled, and gathered up the now-empty bowls that had held munchies. “It’s not like I’m always the perfect friend. Anyway. I like the way you run games. It's not all hack-and-slash. We get to actually think about things, and role-play, and stuff.”
“Thanks. Hack-and-slash bores me. So does power-gaming, and if Clay doesn't lay off he's going to find out just how little use power-gaming is if the DM won't put up with it.”
“Which might make him mad enough to leave. I don't think Liss will get annoyed with us if it turns out that her new boyfriend’s just not a good match for this particular group, but that means we'd be down to a thief, a wizard, and two clerics, one with a healer god and one with a war god. Not much sheer physical power there.”
Christian shrugged. “No big deal, I could compensate for that easily enough.” The dining room was linked directly to the kitchen via a pair of sliding doors; Chris pulled one aside, waved Val through, and switched on the lights.
“I'll wash, you dry?” Val offered.
“Sure.”
Val filled the sink, while Christian found a towel.
“Anyway, most of what I have in mind for you guys would make brute strength sometimes useful or a little easier but never precisely necessary, and I can find ways around. Even if our power-gamer leaves, it won't hurt the game.”
It had taken longer than they’d expected to track down the members of their respective old groups and arrange to get together. The remainder of both groups had followed the usual migration pattern to larger cities and hopes of more jobs.
Then they’d all struggled with schedules. First and second sessions had been arranged individually; with any luck, as of this third one tonight, they’d all settled on one night every second week that they could consistently get together for the near future, at least. This wasn’t high school, and no one had the time for weekly game nights. Christian wasn’t sure he’d even have the time to stay prepared for weekly sessions, with everything else. Every other week seemed like a good compromise.
“Heya,” Mark greeted them casually, leaning against the frame of the doorway to the hall. “All done, I take it?”
“Yes,” Christian said. “Thanks for letting Val in.”
“Eh, whatever. So, how was your game?”
“It's going well. Four out of five actually think about what they're doing instead of wanting to attack anything moving. One wants to attack anything moving. He's in the process of learning that this is a bad plan in my games. Dana and Will have been in games I've run before so they know that, and Isaac doesn't speak up much but when he does, he generally has some interesting ideas, and he and Val have experience working together. Val, of course,” he bowed teasingly to her, “is simply too intelligent to try such nonsense.”
“I also know you well enough to know that you won't throw things at us to kill just for the sake of killing them,” Val said. “None of the, 'You walk into a room, and thirty orcs come running at you,' then, once they all die and we split up the treasure, 'You walk into a room, and thirty-five orcs come running at you.' What exactly would all these orcs be doing, anyway? They're never even playing cards or having supper or anything in games like that, there are just endless numbers of them who appear to have been in suspended animation waiting for you to open the door and slaughter them.”
“So true,” Christian laughed. “I mean, it works in Diablo on the PlayStation, but that’s not nearly the same thing.”
“Sounds boring for what you’re doing,” Mark said.
“So why aren't you playing, too?” Val asked. “Chris' game is really interesting, and we aren't so far along that bringing a character in now would put you at a huge disadvantage.”
Mark shrugged. “Not my kind of thing. I'm glad you're having fun, though.” While he didn't actually look at Christian, the witch got the distinct feeling that he meant 'you' in the singular and was referring to him.
“Definitely.” Val set the last bowl in the dish-rack, pulled the plug, and dried her hands on the towel hanging at the end of the counter. “I should probably get home. The next bus should be in about ten minutes, and I have to open at the cafe in the morning. And before you say anything, we don’t do early breakfasts, mostly lunch and supper, so it won’t be so early that it’s a problem. I’m a big girl and I know my limits. But I think I’m going to grab my stuff and get going.”
“Makes sense,” Christian said. “Hope you have a great day at work.”
Val collected her heavy bag of books and such, gave Christian a hug goodbye at the front door, and left. Christian locked the door behind her and turned off the lights.
Mark was lingering in the kitchen.
“So, fear-eater and it’s dead?”
“Yeah. Lurking in a schoolyard is just ghastly. Kids can be mean enough without help. Probably a good thing there are no other witches around, ‘cause I had to do that splash effect to see it, and I think when I’m not inside the house shields, it spreads out a long way. It shouldn’t bother anyone, though.”
“Some liminals might notice it. I would have, if I hadn’t been in the house. But it shouldn’t be a problem for any of them. And if there are no other witches around, they’re not going to get hit by it. You look exhausted. Go get some sleep. I’ll get the rest of the lights and check the doors.”
Christian paused just outside the chain link fence that protected a schoolyard not far from downtown.
He tended not to read the newspaper regularly, since mostly it saddened him to be unable to help against so very much pain over the entire world. He did hear local news, though; more than one customer over the weekend had mentioned the recent rash of harassment, far beyond normal, that had been occurring in this schoolyard. It was inevitable that some children would torment others—he had vivid memories of always being “the weird one” himself—and that was the job of the school's staff to monitor. And sometimes, it went to extremes that felt inhuman, but for entirely too human reasons.
At least three of the regular customers who had brought it up had wandered by here—in one case on a hunch, in one case on a slight detour on her way to work, and in one case for no reason he'd been able to articulate—and all three had felt a sense of wrongness. Christian knew that all three of them were, while not strictly witchblood, at least somewhat sensitive.
The sense of wrongness was certainly real, but unlike them, he could identify the source. There was definitely something here. Where it had come from and why it had chosen this place, he neither knew nor cared. It was quite likely that it was connected to recent events, though, and he could at least make sure that it wasn't here when school started again tomorrow morning.
He followed the fence to the unlocked gate, and pushed it open. There was no one in sight, not entirely a surprise since it was well after dark and the whole space was illuminated only by sulphur-yellow street lights and a couple of harsh-white security lights. All senses alert, he made his way cautiously across the yard, orienting on the strongest stain of terror.
Unsurprisingly, it was in one corner, sheltered somewhat from direct view by a stand of mid-sized trees that he thought were Manitoba maples, though with no leaves it was hard to be sure. He chose a spot in the centre and pulled a small rug out of his backpack, spread it on the trampled snow and settled himself cross-legged, closing his eyes and turning all his attention to his inner senses.
In this season, most life was dormant or entirely absent. The trees barely pulsed with it, though it was only a couple of weeks until the spring solstice and they were ready to surge back to full green vitality soon. Grass and clover waiting for spring, tiny insect lives suspended deep beneath the ground… and just a trace of something that was almost there. He tried to focus on it, but it slipped away, no more easily pinpointed than clear glass through water.
He spread his inner senses farther, wrapping them around the entire schoolyard, though it made him feel like there was pressure behind his eyes. There was definitely something there that was very real, the indistinct power signature not very strong. He got enough of a sense of it, though, to be certain that he was right about what it was. Which meant he couldn't just drive off the liminal causing this; he was going to have to kill en.
Technically, he could walk away and ask Alexandra to come and deal with it. The small phone in his pocket, her gift to him, meant that option was easily accessible.
While he really didn’t want to personally take a liminal life, it didn’t feel right to just sic his lamia on anything he wanted dead and pretend that his hands were somehow cleaner that way. If he made the decision, he was responsible. And this wasn’t anything so powerful or dangerous that he shouldn’t be able to handle it alone—as long as he was careful.
Which meant he had to pinpoint ens location.
He reached down, searching for the power-flows in the earth below. One of the countless thin streams, barely a trickle, was nearby; that was all he needed for this. He hoped. He took a couple of slow, deep breaths, and tapped into it.
What he'd learned about manipulating energy from feeding Alexandra had actually proven extremely useful in channelling external sources, and from the juno loci, he’d picked up enough hints that he could access at least one kind of external source. Carefully, he drew the power into himself, gathering it. When he judged he had enough, he flung it outwards all at once, like a searchlight. Against the bright background thus generated, he spotted a shape, entirely unlike the simple glow of the trees—or the brilliantly-haloed deep shadow he'd have seen if Alexandra were here. This one was simply a dimmer place in all the light.
Attention fixed on that, he got up slowly, and tracked en towards the big wood and metal climber that dominated this end of the schoolyard.
A shadow flickered along it, where no shadow should have been.
He'd found his target, now what?
He reached through the link that remained with the stream below, collecting more power. En knew he was here now, even if en hadn't when he first arrived, and en knew that he was a witch; his best chance was probably to hit en fast and hard with everything he had.
Something tickled the back of his mind; instinctively, he sidestepped, and opened his eyes to see a rock half the size of his fist whip past him.
“I don't scare that easily,” he said. Still not entirely used to the eerie effect of faint light outlining his hands, he shaped the power into a dagger of crimson and gold and flung it at the place his mental senses told him his target was.
Since the water elemental incident, Alexandra had been making him practice, pushing him into chasing her around the house and trying to capture or injure her, encouraging the resident liminals and elementals to do their best to interfere. Once they’d accepted that it would make Christian safer if he could do more on his own, they’d gotten over their reluctance. Even Sid got involved. Even going all-out, he couldn’t beat Lexa or even hurt her, but the attempts had pushed his limits hard, again and again, forcing him to experiment with different approaches that might otherwise never have occurred to him.
It also helped his aim. He heard a kind of mental shriek as the shadow on the climber vanished. He closed his eyes again briefly, looking for en. The liminal jerked back and forth erratically, maybe trying to figure out where en could hide. The unpredictable movements made it tricky to target en; his next two attacks went frustratingly wide.
What else could he do?
Hmm. I can't hit en 'cause en’s moving too much. So... can I stop en from moving, or at least slow en down?
He tried weaving the power into a net instead of a dagger. That took a little longer than he liked, and he had to dodge two more rocks, someone's discarded glass juice bottle, and a short heavy dead branch. Protecting himself and holding concentration simultaneously was tricky. He dropped the net once and had to start over. Without Alexandra's lessons, he very much doubted he could have done it at all.
Finally, he tossed the net at en, focused intently on what he wanted it to do.
The much wider surface of the net proved successful where the daggers hadn't: it touched the shadow-thing, and wrapped around en tightly, pinning en in place. En wailed without audible sound, grating against his witch senses, as en squirmed desperately.
He could get a good look at en, now, and that was enough for identification. En was one of the less pleasant types of liminal creatures, the ones Seth called 'fear-eaters' because they had no mouths, living entirely on the energy generated by fear. They tended to linger in abusive households most often, since they had very little power and found it easier to feed on what was already being created, but some of them could work in small ways to encourage it.
Christian winced to himself, as he crossed the distance to en. En had to die, there was absolutely no question about that, but to kill something helpless made him distinctly uncomfortable. He’d done it once before this winter, and hated it. Since en was a liminal, he couldn’t even make it sleep first. Everything he’d found in the library made it clear that an attempt at that mercy would be unreliable and potentially dangerous.
With a sigh, he shaped another dagger, dropped to one knee, and thrust it into the fear-eater's chest where ens heart should logically be.
At least en followed the rules to that extent: en squealed soundlessly and went limp. Warily, he kept the net around en, uncertain that en wasn't just playing dead. Now that en wasn't moving or throwing things at him, en was pathetically small, a roughly humanoid creature with dark grey skin and long thin hands, bulbous head and spindly body, huge eyes and no mouth at all.
He retrieved his rug, dropped it next to the creature’s body, and knelt there so he could hold one hand palm-down over it. Eyes closed, he channelled the flow of the stream below directly into it. Once he had that in place, he opened his eyes again.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Slowly, the corpse began to shrivel and shrink in on itself. Christian held the channel steady, his hand beginning to tremble from the position.
Only when nothing remained but an area of snow dusted with fine grey did he sever the link. He stayed where he was for a moment, waiting until he had his balance back and stopped feeling light-headed.
That should take care of any extramundane exacerbation of whatever the normal situation in the schoolyard was. Whatever the children did to each other without liminal help, well, that was in their hands.
Carefully, he got to his feet and picked up the rug, shaking it out and rolling it to stow in his backpack. He might not be in a position to help with some of the great evils of the world, but he could at least try to minimize the ones in his own city.
The clock of the historic cathedral, even older than the Terevan house, began to chime. It didn’t actually carry all that far, unlike the bells it had probably had originally, but he was fairly close to it here.
How was it six o’clock already?
He scrambled for his phone, and called Mark.
“Hello. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s dead. Fear-eater. It took longer than I expected, since I thought it was probably just some leftover bad energy or something. Val...”
“Is here. I let her in and told her you’d be back soon. She’s getting dice and books and snacks and stuff set up in the dining room without you, and she promised to listen for the door. Seemed reasonable to just let her handle it. It’s a bit chilly for leaving them all on the porch until you get home.”
“Oh, good. Thank you.”
“Yep. Don’t worry about it. Headed home now?”
“As soon as I can catch a bus.”
Mark sighed audibly. “Call a cab. From somewhere that there are lights on, not someplace with no one in sight for blocks. I’ll give you back the money for it. Just come home, would you? Sid and I are hanging out back in the living room but I think we’d both be happier if you were here to keep your gamers in line.”
“You make them sound like an invading horde. All right, won’t argue. I’ll be home as fast as I can.”
***
“Okay. That's a wrap,” Christian said lightly. “See you in two weeks, folks. And I am really sorry about being late.”
“You’ve apologized repeatedly for that,” Isaac said. “It’s not nearly as big a deal as you think it is. Life happens.”
All five players began gathering up books, paper, and dice, Dana and Clay hardly missing a beat in their debate over the best way to get the map they needed from the sylph who knew where it was hidden. Will and Val added occasional comments, Isaac simply listening.
Clay and Will waited while Dana used the half-bath in the hall, then they said their good-nights and departed together; Isaac left to go the opposite direction. Val lingered.
“Want help cleaning up?”
“Won't turn it down,” Christian said, pushing back his chair to start collecting empty glasses. “Although you did do all the setup earlier.”
“Chris, relax. No one is mad at you for being a bit late. I promise. You can stop feeling bad about it. It’s just one of those things. Whatever you were doing, it’s your business.”
“Just... checking out a spot a lot of people have been getting bad vibes. And lost track of time.”
“The schoolyard? I heard a few whispers about that. Just as well if it’s no longer a thing. Being late is not the end of the world. Seriously. You’re too hard on yourself sometimes.”
“Probably. I never was very good at having friends.”
She laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing just fine with me, and obviously with Mark. It’s easier for some people when they get older and start being able to choose a social circle instead of being forced to interact mostly with classmates. Maybe you’re like that. Let it go, okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll try. Thanks for putting up with me.”
She just smiled, and gathered up the now-empty bowls that had held munchies. “It’s not like I’m always the perfect friend. Anyway. I like the way you run games. It's not all hack-and-slash. We get to actually think about things, and role-play, and stuff.”
“Thanks. Hack-and-slash bores me. So does power-gaming, and if Clay doesn't lay off he's going to find out just how little use power-gaming is if the DM won't put up with it.”
“Which might make him mad enough to leave. I don't think Liss will get annoyed with us if it turns out that her new boyfriend’s just not a good match for this particular group, but that means we'd be down to a thief, a wizard, and two clerics, one with a healer god and one with a war god. Not much sheer physical power there.”
Christian shrugged. “No big deal, I could compensate for that easily enough.” The dining room was linked directly to the kitchen via a pair of sliding doors; Chris pulled one aside, waved Val through, and switched on the lights.
“I'll wash, you dry?” Val offered.
“Sure.”
Val filled the sink, while Christian found a towel.
“Anyway, most of what I have in mind for you guys would make brute strength sometimes useful or a little easier but never precisely necessary, and I can find ways around. Even if our power-gamer leaves, it won't hurt the game.”
It had taken longer than they’d expected to track down the members of their respective old groups and arrange to get together. The remainder of both groups had followed the usual migration pattern to larger cities and hopes of more jobs.
Then they’d all struggled with schedules. First and second sessions had been arranged individually; with any luck, as of this third one tonight, they’d all settled on one night every second week that they could consistently get together for the near future, at least. This wasn’t high school, and no one had the time for weekly game nights. Christian wasn’t sure he’d even have the time to stay prepared for weekly sessions, with everything else. Every other week seemed like a good compromise.
“Heya,” Mark greeted them casually, leaning against the frame of the doorway to the hall. “All done, I take it?”
“Yes,” Christian said. “Thanks for letting Val in.”
“Eh, whatever. So, how was your game?”
“It's going well. Four out of five actually think about what they're doing instead of wanting to attack anything moving. One wants to attack anything moving. He's in the process of learning that this is a bad plan in my games. Dana and Will have been in games I've run before so they know that, and Isaac doesn't speak up much but when he does, he generally has some interesting ideas, and he and Val have experience working together. Val, of course,” he bowed teasingly to her, “is simply too intelligent to try such nonsense.”
“I also know you well enough to know that you won't throw things at us to kill just for the sake of killing them,” Val said. “None of the, 'You walk into a room, and thirty orcs come running at you,' then, once they all die and we split up the treasure, 'You walk into a room, and thirty-five orcs come running at you.' What exactly would all these orcs be doing, anyway? They're never even playing cards or having supper or anything in games like that, there are just endless numbers of them who appear to have been in suspended animation waiting for you to open the door and slaughter them.”
“So true,” Christian laughed. “I mean, it works in Diablo on the PlayStation, but that’s not nearly the same thing.”
“Sounds boring for what you’re doing,” Mark said.
“So why aren't you playing, too?” Val asked. “Chris' game is really interesting, and we aren't so far along that bringing a character in now would put you at a huge disadvantage.”
Mark shrugged. “Not my kind of thing. I'm glad you're having fun, though.” While he didn't actually look at Christian, the witch got the distinct feeling that he meant 'you' in the singular and was referring to him.
“Definitely.” Val set the last bowl in the dish-rack, pulled the plug, and dried her hands on the towel hanging at the end of the counter. “I should probably get home. The next bus should be in about ten minutes, and I have to open at the cafe in the morning. And before you say anything, we don’t do early breakfasts, mostly lunch and supper, so it won’t be so early that it’s a problem. I’m a big girl and I know my limits. But I think I’m going to grab my stuff and get going.”
“Makes sense,” Christian said. “Hope you have a great day at work.”
Val collected her heavy bag of books and such, gave Christian a hug goodbye at the front door, and left. Christian locked the door behind her and turned off the lights.
Mark was lingering in the kitchen.
“So, fear-eater and it’s dead?”
“Yeah. Lurking in a schoolyard is just ghastly. Kids can be mean enough without help. Probably a good thing there are no other witches around, ‘cause I had to do that splash effect to see it, and I think when I’m not inside the house shields, it spreads out a long way. It shouldn’t bother anyone, though.”
“Some liminals might notice it. I would have, if I hadn’t been in the house. But it shouldn’t be a problem for any of them. And if there are no other witches around, they’re not going to get hit by it. You look exhausted. Go get some sleep. I’ll get the rest of the lights and check the doors.”
