Wonder City Stories

This week has been weird and surreal -- I live in central Massachusetts, and work in Cambridge -- and today has been particularly strange, with the refreshing the browser and checking Twitter and such. I have successfully distracted written the lion's share of this episode today, however, and I hope you will forgive any little gaffes as being products of my distraction.


Torschlusspanik

"Ah, Mr. Frost," Zoltan said at the door of the enormous luxury board room, his eastern European accent rolling softly over the name. "And Nereid. So pleased you could make it to our little discussion group."

Nereid stared at Zoltan. For a man who never aged, the very fine lines around his eyes and mouth seemed much more pronounced than they'd been last time she'd seen him, at least a year before. He was dressed very finely in a pale grey three-piece suit, a white shirt, and a pale blue tie. She noticed his cufflinks, though, as they shook hands -- tiny gold bats -- and it was all she could do not to giggle.

"I was pleased to be invited," Michael Frost said, staring beyond Zoltan's head at the far side of the room.

"Ah, yes, you see that Baroness Von Drachenberg has arrived before you," Zoltan said, stepping aside gracefully and gesturing them into the room. "We still await Ms. Washington, from your folk. My folk are represented, as are most of the other Mystikai."

Nereid stared around the echoing room and was gratified by the presence of Madame Destiny and X, and also the Equestrian and her steed (in tall, lean, redheaded human form) Maelstrom. She didn't know any of the many others, and noticed that a certain amount of space was left between every knot of beings as they stood around and drank coffee. Sophie would probably snark about it if she were here. Which she wasn't. And Nereid wasn't sure why she wasn't, but the absence made her anxious.

The Baroness was a short, round, cheerful woman who appeared to be middle-aged, accompanied by a couple of stocky, balding men in tweed suits. She gave Mr. Frost a little finger wave that he ignored. Nereid smiled nervously in the woman's direction.

A moment later, a ridiculously tall, willowy woman with long white hair, wearing a strangely familiar long, flowing black leather coat (with large spiky shoulder pads) and pants, strode past Zoltan into the room without a word. Under the coat, she seemed to be largely wearing straps, which accented her... prominent cleavage. She paused to regard Mr. Frost, then the Baroness with a sneer, and made her way to the center-back of the room, throwing herself into the chair at the foot of the ridiculously long table. She put her booted feet up on the table with heavy clunks.

"And with the arrival of Ms. Washington," Zoltan said, nodding to the t-shirted bar bouncer-types in the hall and shutting the door, "our numbers are complete. I am, as most of you know, Zoltan Farkas, and I speak for the Grand Matriarch of the East today, though her granddaughter --" he bowed to an African American woman who was taking a seat near the middle of the table "-- is here to correct me if I step wrongly. Speaking for the Grand Matriarch of the West is Doña Juana Salazar. Between us, we speak for the Family here in North America."

He nodded, and the Equestrian stood, looking very out of place as a young blonde teen dressed for a horse show in a velvet coat of bottle-green, breeches, and tall leather boots. "All of you know who I am," she said in her British accent. "I'm here for the Good Neighbors, specifically the one known as Lady Daphne, my sometimes-patron."

A broad-shouldered, tanned man in a black suit, surrounded by several individuals in similar suits, introduced himself as the elected speaker for the shapechanger Mystikai. Several more people introduced themselves as chosen or appointed speakers for various schools of magic. There was a fascinatingly tiny woman who was the representative of the Appalachian Gnome Queendom. A pair of thin, pale women who were clearly twins said they were there on behalf of the Wonder City vampires. A perfectly normal middle-aged middle-class woman in jeans and a sweatshirt that sported a picture of a kitten, with the glittery legend, "Hang in there!" arcing over it, introduced herself as the Outsider.

Madame stood and bowed. She was dressed elegantly in a long black dress and a black turban, a silvery-grey wrap draped around her shoulders. She was made up extravagantly, with dramatic swooshes of shadow above her eyes. "I am Madame Destiny, the current vessel for the Mystikai known as the Oracle, and I have been asked here by my friend Zoltan in case we need to consult the Oracle's wisdom." She gestured to X, who was conservatively done up in a black suit and garnet-colored cravat. "This is my apprentice, X." And she resumed her seat.

Nereid became aware, as silence fell, that Mr. Frost and the Baroness were staring at each other across the room. After a long, tense moment, Miss Washington drawled, without standing, "I'm Washington. I'm a dragon."

Both Mr. Frost and the Baroness looked at her at the same moment, a fleeting glimpse of disgust crossing both their faces. They looked at each other again, and the Baroness shrugged, and said, "I am the Baroness Von Drachenberg, and I am a Reptilian-American." She glowered in Washington's direction, then gestured grandly to Mr. Frost.

He inclined his head briefly and said, "I am Michael Frost, also Reptilian-American, and I am the patron of the superhero team, the Young Cosmics." He dropped a hand on Nereid's shoulder. "This is my team's Class 10 elemental, Nereid, who kindly agreed to accompany me."

Zoltan seated himself at the head of the table and folded his hands. "Thank you all for coming. I think we can agree that the situation in the United States, and in Wonder City in particular, is growing intolerable and is threatening everything each of us has worked for. Several of us wanted to bring the community together to discuss possible options for information-gathering and action."

One of the myriad magic-using people -- one of the few dressed in what Nereid thought of as normal clothes -- raised her hand. Zoltan nodded, and she said, "I think it would be helpful if we pooled our intelligence as to the nature of the troubles and possible sources."

"Agreed," Zoltan said, nodding cheerfully all around the table. "So let us do so. I confess that the Family has very little information on the nature or source of the troubles, only a fairly close analysis of the results. So who has more information?"

Several of the magic-using people spoke up about scrying and analytical magic and things that immediately and pedantically went over Nereid's head -- another reason to regret Brainchild's absence, she thought, was her inability to ask Sophie later what something had meant. Nereid was also distracted by Washington's openly bored posture with her head tilted back, staring ostentatiously at the ceiling.

"So what you're telling us," Zoltan said, smoothly interrupting one of the interminable lectures, "is that the main threat appears to be in orbit, and radiating something down at us that is affecting human behavior?"

"Uh," said the man in burgundy robes. "Yes. Essentially."

"Thank you," Zoltan said, and he even sounded like he meant it. "Have any other Mystikai ascertained any details?"

Nereid glanced aside at Mr. Frost's pleasantly-smiling face, expecting him to say something. Instead, Madame Destiny said, "Yes, we have."

All heads turned her way. X met Nereid's look with briefly raised eyebrows.

"Our group of... friends," Madame said with a self-deprecating air, "have determined that the ships in orbit are, in fact, of alien origin, and that the nature of the projection is a technological enhancement of a para with empathic abilities."

And then the meeting exploded into discussion, debate, and questions. Nereid watched it all, bewildered, and also watched the three drago--- Reptilian-Americans, she corrected herself. The Baroness beamed delightedly as her two tweedy companions leapt into a debate with a trio of mages and one shapeshifter. Mr. Frost watched the proceedings with a small smile. Washington continued to stare at the ceiling. The only other person who appeared so disconnected was the Equestrian, who slumped in her chair and frowned at the tabletop.

During a brief lull in the conversation, Washington burst out with, "Tell me why I should care."

Everyone froze. Nereid heard Michael Frost inhale, but whatever he was going to say was preempted by the Baroness Von Drachenberg saying, sweetly, "I would explain, but I think that you are too young to understand."

Washington leapt to her feet and glared at the Baroness. Nereid felt obscurely that she ought to have a large magical sword in one hand, then realized that as a drago-- Reptilian-American, she didn't need a weapon of any sort: she was one.

After a long moment, Washington said, in tones not nearly as sweet as the Baroness', "Try me, old woman."

Nereid noticed one of the tweed-clad men next to the Baroness discreetly scribbling notes in a battered leather-bound notebook, while the other was sliding an old pocket dictation recorder onto the table and looking around surreptitiously. Some of the mages and a few of the shapeshifters were subtly fading back from the table. Nereid herself was feeling more and more nervous sitting next to Mr. Frost.

The Baroness folded her hands on the table and, still smiling, said, "As someone without much experience in the markets of the world, you perhaps do not know how very destabilizing these sorts of events can be. You may think that such disquiet would make your particular objets du dèsir easier to obtain -- whenever you decide to obtain them -- but it is not so." She paused, reached down without looking, and clicked the tape recorder off. "At least, not in the long run."

Washington was pale with a cold rage that Nereid could feel from across the room. She leaned forward to place her hands flat onto the table, her white hair starting to blow behind her in a breeze that seemed to affect nothing else. Before she could say anything, though, Michael Frost began to laugh.

The look Washington turned on him was very little altered from what she had just been aiming elsewhere, but the gaze the Baroness turned on him was cynical, withering, and underneath it all, so sharp that Nereid had to repress the urge to run out of the room. The mages and shapeshifters took the opportunity to slide entirely back from the table toward the outer walls.

"Do forgive me, Baroness," Michael Frost said, in his suavest voice, "but it seems to me that if we are here, we have already agreed to act. There is no need for this attention-seeking posturing."

The Baroness was no longer, at all, a pleasant-looking little woman. Nereid saw the representative of the Gnome Queendom retreating behind a heavy credenza and felt an urge to join her. As if reading her mind, Michael Frost chose that moment to lay his hand over hers on the table, and action that made Nereid unbearably uncomfortable for too many reasons to list.

Nereid attempted to comfort herself with her ability to dissolve into mist at the first sign of actual violence.

At the head of the table, Zoltan looked as if he might be comforting himself similarly. He was exchanging looks with the other representatives of his Family -- whatever that was, Nereid thought, wondering if it he was a member of some kind of vampire mafia -- and both women were giving him cheerful sorts of "I wouldn't be you for a million dollars" encouraging smiles.

Washington was staring at Michael Frost, and Nereid noticed that she was becoming visibly more irritated when he refused to stare back. Her long, slender fingers gripped the edge of the table, and Nereid had an unpleasant image of her flipping it. But the moment passed, and she sat down in a kind of anticlimax.

The Baroness and Michael Frost, however, continued to match gazes, and Nereid thought that perhaps there was some sort of battle going on that she was too human to perceive except on the most uncomfortably lowest levels of her lizard brain. Like the so-called brown note, she thought.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," the Equestrian exclaimed, slamming her small hands on the table with moment-shattering slaps. "The rest of us don't have time for your--" she paused over word choice for a moment, then continued sourly "--politicking."

The two dragons snapped their heads around to look at her and the Equestrian pursed her lips and tilted her head slightly in the direction of Maelstrom, who appeared to be dozing in his chair. Mr. Frost and the Baroness each glanced back at each other, then exhaled, and the tension oozed out of the room.

Zoltan shuffled some papers. The mages and shapeshifters glided back to the table. The Gnome Queendom representative returned to her chair.

"I think," said Doña Juana Salazar, smiling thinly around the table, "that perhaps we should take advantage of the presence of the Oracle to ascertain what level of action would work best for the Mystikai as a whole."

"Yes," the Baroness said, her good humor apparently restored, though Nereid was unsure if that was true. "It is so very easy to overreact and do more harm than good."

Michael Frost said, "Yes, let's." He yawned elaborately.

Washington just waved a hand irritably.

"Perhaps it would be best to determine what the maximum level of involvement we would be willing to pursue should be," piped the tiny representative of the Gnome Queendom.

This led to another bewildering half hour of conversations, cross-conversations, and sub-conversations that Nereid could not parse at all. None of the dragons involved themselves in these discussions; they just watched.

Zoltan tapped a glass (where did he get the glass?) with a spoon (likewise?), and the sound rang out over the room, bringing conversation to a faltering halt. He said, "If we are going to make use of the Oracle, then I think we should do it quickly. We are unlikely to come to a consensus on this issue, nor do I think it is necessary. We simply need to remember to ask yes or no questions for optimal accuracy."

"And minimal cryptic ramblings," the Equestrian muttered, getting a short laugh out of Madame and X, at least.

Madame got up and moved her chair well back from the table, then resumed her seat. X moved to stand facing her, a little to the side. Everyone at the table turned to watch Madame with great interest -- even the dragons.

Nereid had seen Madame do this many times before, and all went as usual. Madame composed herself in her chair and closed her eyes for a few moments. X watched her fixedly. Then the light in the room changed to the harsh, focused, bluish tinge it always took.

Madame's face in that light startled Nereid, like she was seeing straight through the makeup. Madame looked old. Really old. And sick, and strained. Tears began leaking from the corners of her eyes. Then her eyes popped open and blue light crackled there, making everyone blink and look away for a moment.

"SPEAK, CHILDREN OF MAGIC," the Oracle said with Madame's mouth.

X turned to Zoltan and nodded.

But then the Oracle said, "STOP."

Nereid could see Madame's head and hands vibrating as if she had a palsy. The tears were coursing down her face and dripping off her chin. Her face looked grey in the blue light.

Madame gasped, in her own voice, "No!"

The light changed again -- instead of seemingly radiating from Madame's whole body, it shifted to solely from her head. And then blue lightning stabbed out from Madame into X, who echoed Madame with a more gutteral, wrenching, "No!"

Nereid ran to Madame as the older woman toppled from her chair, pulling her up from the floor and cradling her head against her shoulder. For a long moment, Nereid gazed down into her exhausted, drawn, tear-streaked face, and irrelevantly remembered the same woman, five years earlier, patiently helping her with her math homework. She remembered that Madame had been studying to be a mathematician, that she was really good at it, until the Oracle took up residence in her body.

X was suspended in mid-air in the middle of the room, blue light and lightning leaking out spasmodically. Most of the people in the room were at least standing, if not moving cautiously toward X.

Madame's eyes opened and she tried to sit up, but couldn't, then relaxed back into Nereid's arms. She croaked urgently, "Don't touch X!" into the tense silence, and everyone moving stopped.

"If you touch X," Madame said more calmly, "it could distract zir from what focus zie could gather. If that happens on the first possession, we might never get X back." She closed her eyes again.

Nereid was chilled to the bone by the idea of the Oracle being permanently "on" in X's body. She looked at the disheveled figure dangling like a marionette in mid-air.

"NOW YOU MAY SPEAK," said the Oracle with X's mouth.

"Oh, god," Madame groaned.

"It's all right," Nereid whispered to her.

"I thought I could hold on," Madame said, tears trickling out of her eyes again. "I thought I could keep going. Anything so X wouldn't have to..."

"X knew this would happen eventually," Nereid said in low tones, vaguely registering that questions were being asked and answered with a staccato precision elsewhere in the room. "X was prepared for it."

"You're never prepared for it," Madame said faintly. "Never. I knew for years, and I never expected what happened."

"Is it so bad?" Nereid said.

"It's like a seizure," Madame said opaquely. "Oh, god, I should get up, I should spot X, keep people from asking too many questions." She began to struggle to sit up, at least.

Nereid helped her sit up when it became clear that she was too agitated to rest. X was still held off the floor, but was no longer quite so high in the air. Madame took one look at X's face, which was lined with strain, and made a throat-cut motion to Zoltan, who nodded and stepped between a ponderous mage and X.

"Thank you for your generous assistance, oh, Oracle," Zoltan said with a graceful bow. "Your vessel needs rest, and we have our answers."

"VERY WELL, TRAVELLER," the Oracle said in its booming voice. "CARE FOR THE EMPTIED VESSEL AS WELL AS THE NEW VESSEL."

With that, X was released into Zoltan's waiting arms. Maelstrom took X from Zoltan and the Equestrian peremptorily gestured Zoltan back into the scrum of loudly-discussing Mystikai.

Madame reached out as Maelstrom knelt to set X next to her. She stroked X's sweat-beaded forehead maternally and whispered, over and over, "I'm so sorry."

Nereid stayed on the ground with the two of them, an arm around each, content to be a literal support. X was moving slowly, blinking dazed eyes up at the ceiling. Madame was still murmuring what sounded like apologies. As an afterthought, Nereid dried their clothes and faces and hair -- sweat and tears and whatever else would leave a bit of a crust, but at least they wouldn't feel damp.

"You have my promise," Michael Frost was saying, coming to stand near Nereid and Madame and X, "that I will match the Baroness' contributions financially, and that I will permit limited involvement of my Cosmics in a decisive para action."

Washington strode almost up to him, then past, saying, "And you have my promise that I will participate in the para action myself... if it seems fun." She kicked the door open and walked out of the board room.

"I am going to take Madame and X home," Michael Frost said, reaching down to effortlessly lift Madame in his arms. Nereid helped X to stand, and stayed under the strong arm that she remembered so vividly holding her up at one time. "The rest of you may go on discussing whatever you like. Zoltan, if anything significant comes up, I trust you will notify us via the usual channels."

"Of course," Zoltan said, catching Nereid's eye with a questioning raise of his eyebrows. Nereid smiled, she hoped, reassuringly, and turned to help X follow Mr. Frost out of the room.

Resolving Powers

The wind was screaming. Simon leapt between Sator and Brainchild, teeth flashing. The Equestrian and Maelstrom banished the spell that entrapped them.

For one hollow second, the right side of Sator's face darkened and his eyes opened wide, mouth frozen mid-incantation. A pink mist coalesced in the air to the right of Sator. Then Sator dropped to the floor, his flesh crumbling stickily around his bones. The mist rained down and was lost in the general oversupply of gore.

The wind blew itself apart and the gears stopped cold.

There was silence.

"Well," said the Equestrian, staring at the remains of Sator. "That's a thing."

Holy shit, Simon said. Did she...?

My god, Ira said, she killed him. Took all the water... or blood... or something right out of his body.

It was the only thing to do, Suzanne said firmly, but I could feel her reeling with nausea.

We'll deal with that later, Watson said grimly. Start cleaning up, we're on our way.

Be careful, Maelstrom said. Magicians generally leave nasty surprises for posthumous applications.

So a few minutes later, a handful of Gold Stars bounced through the portal and found the Equestrian exclaiming, "I found your hand, Wire. I... think it got in the way when Nereid did her thing, though." She looked up from the object on the floor and said to Sekhmet, "Oh, hello. About bloody time you got here."

"My gods!" Sekhmet said, staring around the blood-spattered room in horror. "Who...? How...?"

The Equestrian snapped, "Later. Look, we've got a massive injury over there--" pointing to Wire "--and another couple of people down. Could you, perhaps, lend a hand?" She looked back at the floor. "I mean, help out?"

Simon was gently nudging Nereid with his cold nose, and Nereid was waking up slowly. I noticed he wasn't trying to, say, lick her face. She was blood, head to toe. (Of course, so was everyone else.)

Sekhmet and her compatriots (I recognized the Blue Eagle costume, but knew it had to be a new one -- or maybe not, if he'd somehow come back to life, which wasn't unusual for the spandex teams -- and the Green Hood) spread out, inspecting Megan and Nereid and Wire from a distance and looking up at the ceiling, where the hole was slowly closing up.

Watson and G went through the portal together and straight to Megan, who was still out cold (because I do my work right). They struggled a little -- she's a big girl -- but between them (and their minor superstrength) they backboarded her (why wasn't I surprised that Watson knew how to do that correctly?) and got her onto the giant-sized stretcher they'd brought.

Professor Fortune, in his cape and with his wacky Einstein hair looking especially Einsteinian, strode into the room like he owned it. "Ah, Molly," he said, smiling benignly at the Equestrian. He looked around quickly, and his gaze lingered on the funnel. "Oh, good," he said softly. "Nice to see the thing with the machine worked out."

Watson and G were slowly walking Megan out, and paused at the door while Watson gave the professor a strange, unreadable look. Her mind was shuttered completely from me. G shook her head at the solicitous Eagle and Hood, and gestured to Watson with her chin. Watson nodded and moved forward; they carried Megan out into Sator's shop, and the Eagle and the Hood followed them.

Sekhmet knelt next to Wire, producing a thick band of leather from some part of her costume to tourniquet the girl's arm.

"Bugger off, you useless toad," the Equestrian said to Professor Fortune. "This is my gig, not yours."

"Molly, my dear," Professor Fortune said, beaming at her, "I'm just here to help out with an analysis of the situation. The Gold Stars called me in."

"Analyze this, Harvey," the Equestrian said, flipping the bird at him (she did it both ways, in case he was too dim to figure out the British way). "Get out of here before Her Nibs notices that the self-styled Grand High Poobah of Earth is standing on her turf, from which, I note, he has been banned for more than four decades. I won't be responsible if she shows up."

The pool of blood on the floor rose up and coalesced gracefully into a replica of Nereid. It wasn't an exact twin: the replica was wearing a long gown streaked with all the shades of red and brown found in blood. Her face kept shifting and it took me a moment to figure out why: I was seeing her through the eyes of several people, and I guessed that her face altered according to the viewer's ideals of beauty. It was like looking at a very peculiar animation, especially since it was still recognizably Nereid's face.

I didn't even try to get near that mind. I'm stupid, not suicidal.

She turned and stared at Professor Fortune with the mad, cold expression of a bird of prey. He tried to smile urbanely and failed. She said in a voice that resonated in several registers, "You know the penalty, of course. I need not insult you by repeating it."

The Equestrian radiated an unholy glee as Professor Fortune backpedaled toward the door. I felt unadulterated terror from Tam Lane, who was trying to shrink behind a bit of debris.

"No offense meant, of course, Your Majesty," he said, pausing at the threshold and producing a handkerchief to mop his suddenly gleaming brow. "We had no idea that the door led to..."

The woman stared at him, motionless. Her dress rippled toward him liquidly where it met the floor.

He caught his cloak in both hands and bounded hastily through the door.

The Equestrian and Maelstrom both executed handsome bows to the creature that had manifested from the blood. "Your Majesty," the Equestrian said. "My apologies for not detecting this mess sooner."

She lifted a hand and gazed incuriously around the room. "You have stopped it, according to your bargain."

"I think we've a good bit more to do," Maelstrom muttered ruefully. The Queen ignored him as she swept into a walk so inhumanly graceful that it reminded me of a jellyfish.

Tam actually ducked his head beneath his arms as she glanced in his direction; I wasn't sure, but I thought I caught the traces of a smile on her face through the Equestrian's eyes.

The Queen paused and looked down at Nereid. Simon, who had turned human in order to lift Nereid's face out of a puddle of blood, looked nervously up at the Queen and I could sense from him that she didn't smell right -- not like blood, not like anything he'd ever smelled. "It is impolite to tamper with the lifeblood of another's realm, yet sufficient unto the day is the repayment thereof." She turned her head towards the Equestrian. "I forget the words," she said sweetly, with an undertone of malice so clear it was like metal. "How is it I should curse her?"

Nereid, who only just recovered real consciousness, looked up into that face and began leaking blood incontinently: I could see it dripping from her fingertips and it streaked her face like tears. I could feel her sheer, bone-draining terror: the closest I can describe it is that of an acrophobic being pressed to the edge of a sheer precipice.

The Equestrian blinked. Then her expression hardened, and she answered, "Your Majesty, I believe it is him you usually threaten, at least in the songs I am familiar with."

Tam came out from under his arms for long enough to shoot the Equestrian a hateful look.

The Queen raised a hand with impossibly graceful fingers -- and possibly too many of them -- to her lips. "Ah, now I remember. I cannot call shame upon her face, because after all, I am using it. Such shame as her ill-favored face may have is only that which she herself shall bring upon it. Let it be so."

She smiled at the Equestrian, as though she had just won a round of a game, and said, "Be off with you all, I want no more of you." With that, the figure collapsed to the floor in a viscous splash, the blood spreading once more into a shining pool.

"Can we get out of here now?" Simon asked the Equestrian. "Before someone changes her mind?"

Maelstrom strode over, nudged Sekhmet aside, and, with an interesting impulse of protectiveness I didn't poke at, picked up Wire, who looked grey and chalky. "Let's."

Sekhmet acquiesced to Maelstrom's preference and walked over to Simon. "May I? At least if I carry her, I can feel like I did something here."

"Please," Simon said. "Feels like she's broken her right arm and maybe some other things." He turned wolf again.

Sekhmet moved around to Nereid's left and carefully picked her up. Nereid's eyes closed.

Tam looked cautiously out from his hiding place, then rushed out to Nereid's side. He reached out for her hand, paused and grimaced. It was coated and shining with blood. Overcoming his squeamishness, he gripped her hand and looked into her face, murmuring, "Ah, my dear, my dearest." He trotted alongside as Sekhmet carried her out.

"Don't move her arm, you git," the Equestrian called after them. "It's broken!"

Nereid's eyelashes didn't so much as flutter. I couldn't parse the terror and anxiety I could sense from Tam, so I didn't try. Then they were through the door to Earth.

You look a mess, Suzanne said as she envisioned throwing her arms around Simon gratefully, and I let that go through, just to Simon.

He gave a wolfish grin and bounded out through the door.

The Equestrian took a last look around after the others had left. This is going to be a long night, she said.

Surely you're done? I said.

Not a chance, the Equestrian said, and let me have a little of her Faerie sight. I could see gaping holes ground into the dimensional wall as far as I could see. This is all over the realm. All over the Earth. We've got to gather up the escapees.

"Speaking of escapees," she added aloud, spinning one of her green balls of fire into a net. Her gaze moved to Brainchild, whose spirit was standing, looking around her with a horrified expression, in the corner of the room furthest from where the machine used to be.

Damn, girl, you have a rough job, I said.

"Yep," she said, flicking the net over Brainchild, who shrank down inside it into a green ball of light. The Equestrian strode over to pick her up, absently tucking Wire's mummified hand into her belt as she bent to receive the ball of light with both hands. She sighed.

Beer first, she said to me. Then onward. She strode through the door.

---

Note from the Author:

Okay! The cliffhangers are over, and the denouement has begun. What loose ends are you most looking forward to seeing tied up?

(Also, much gratitude to Akycha for helping me with the Queen's characterization.)

Remember to vote for WCS!

L’appel du vide

"Now you," Sator said, glancing over his shoulder. "Megan Amazon, shatter yourself." I had to drop filters in place as Megan took a magical blast that went straight through her invulnerability, ran up every nerve ending, and back down, spasming all the muscles in her arms and legs. Meteor got an accidental punch to the nose from Megan, one that knocked her backward to sprawl on the floor.

On another "channel," I apologized quickly to the Wonderful House kids and dropped them out of the link entirely: Tom was in the ambulance with Brandon on the way to the hospital, Jeshri and Lizzie and Eartha were talking to the police and the Gold Stars.

Block her motor nerves, Watson said tightly. Do it now!

She was right, the spell wasn't stopping, and Megan was apparently strong enough to overcome her own invulnerability, judging from some of the pain I was reading. I stopped everything anomalous that was happening in her motor cortex and knocked her out. She dropped limply to the floor.

Meanwhile, Simon's shape swarmed up to human form (naked) and lunged for Brainchild. His hands couldn't touch her, but he managed to catch the glass fragment -- presumably magical -- that her spirit was standing on. There was a stab of pain as the razor edges of the glass sliced into his hands. Brainchild was stable for just a second, then her spirit turned and tried to grab onto the glass, as if she was being sucked into the funnel by some secret wind.

"Oh, let her fall, child," Sator laughed. "Let her fall and see my century-old plan come to fruition at last!"

Nereid hit him with a firehose blast... of blood. While he sputtered at the mouthful he'd got, she stared at her hands, and I could feel the hysteria welling up amidst her panic.

It's not permanent! the Equestrian snapped at her. It's just this place doing it to you. Do it again!

I can't help her! Simon exclaimed, gripping the glass that was slippery with his own blood and trying to pull it away from the machine without losing Brainchild. She's going to fall!

Meteor! Ira snapped. You're a spirit when you're not in that girl's body. Do something.

The Equestrian and Maelstrom were attacking Sator again to distract him. Nereid, to give the girl credit, pulled her shit together and added her geysers of blood.

Meteor hesitated. I'm not sure I can, she said. Can't Renata help her?

I can't reach her mind, I said. I've tried. And I'm not spiritually telekinetic anyway.

Meteor, you have to save her! Suzanne nigh-shouted. You're her only hope!

Feeling Meteor peel out of the body she was possessing was like nothing I'd ever felt: like someone burning their skin off, and then being totally without pain because there were no nerves any more. Her spirit leapt out of the woman -- G, Watson told me -- and threw herself across the mouth of the black abyss just as Brainchild slipped off the glass. Brainchild hit the "surface" that was Meteor and bounced off her onto the floor.

Meteor said to me, I only ever wanted to be a hero, before her grip slipped and she was sucked into the void, her mind sliding too far away for me to reach.

G staggered backward and fell over Megan. I apologetically seized control of her motor functions, got her ass up, and walked her out the door.

One less potential victim in that room. Go me.

---

Note from the Author:

Because I'm mean, here's a new challenge for Team Commentariat: 15 commenters get you a third new episode on Saturday!

And remember to vote for WCS!

Meddling in the Affairs of Wizards

The door in the middle of the room burst open and the tail end of an ear-shattering scream blew in.

Maelstrom stepped in front of the Equestrian. Wire stepped between the door and the device holding Sophie's spirit captive. Tam stepped behind Nereid.

A light whipped through the door and struck Wire in the chest, knocking her flat. It continued unimpeded on its path into the funnel, spiraling down into darkness.

There was a pop. And another one. And another. The pops came faster and harder, like a machine gun, and Nereid suddenly realized that the walls of vacuum tubes were shattering, making noise like champagne corks in a fire, and the lights were diving down after the first, consumed by the funnel.

The shrieking scrapes of stone on stone and the thrum and grind of the gears sped up around them.

As Wire picked herself up, a little balding man with white hair and muttonchop sideburns wearing an out-of-date suit stepped through the door, tossing aside a small device that looked like a miniature gramophone.

He stopped, staring at them all through his wire-rim glasses, first with bewilderment, then with growing rage.

"Will interference from you confounded paranormals never end?" he demanded angrily.

"I don't suppose it will," the Equestrian said, a ball of green light growing in one of her hands.

There was a crash from the other side of the doorway, and Nereid heard a familiar voice shouting, "SATOR!"

"Megan?" Nereid exclaimed, then clapped both hands over her mouth as Sator glanced at her, amused.

"Don't worry, dear," he said, removing his glasses and tucking them in the breast pocket of his shirt. "I already knew her name. Humans are so careless."

The great golden-furred wolf was, apparently, just as much a surprise to Sator as it was to the rest of them, especially given the way Simon tackled Sator squarely behind the knees, knocking the magician on his face.

"Oh, that'll piss him off," Maelstrom said, snorting flame out of his human-looking face. "Magicians are sticklers about their dignity."

Simon looked up and around at everyone, and his gaze locked on Nereid. The next moment, Nereid felt someone in her mind.

Pardon the intrusion, Pacifica, a sweet, mild woman's voice said. My name is Renata Scott, and I'll be your telepathic link for today.

Oh, thank fuck, a way to talk, Wire said into the link.

Excellent, the Equestrian said, and her mental voice was much older than her physical one.

Sator rose up from the floor in a graceful swoop, his feet well above the ground and energies crackling around each hand. "I have no patience for this," he intoned.

The dome continued to open its eye to another sky wider and wider.

---

Note from the Author:

HERE IT IS! Third episode for the week! Thank you all so much! Next new episode: Tuesday!

And remember to vote for WCS!

Go West, Young Woman

"And this is Tam Lane," Nereid said to the Equestrian and Maelstrom. Wire had oddly not emerged from the far side of the horse, though Nereid could hear her moving on the trail over there. "He's been helping me since I first got lost."

"Really," the Equestrian said, staring impassively down at Tam, who smiled sweetly up at her.

"He's Victorian," Nereid rushed on. "I mean, English, from the 1880s, so he's been stuck here forever. We can take him back with us, can't we?"

The Equestrian sighed and rubbed her face. "Rescuing a human in this land isn't like picking up a stray kitten on the street corner."

"But you can do it, can't you?" Nereid said. She willed Tam silent, and for once, he decided that his silver tongue wouldn't avail him here.

The Equestrian snapped, "We'll discuss it after we've done what we came here for."

Maelstrom's large nose nudged Nereid. "You're covered in blood."

Nereid swallowed, now reminded of the mess, and was grateful when she looked down and was no longer wearing a prom gown, but her costume. The dark stains seemed to match where the blues changed shade, and she wondered if her costume was now shades of red-brown. "It was the prom," she said, unwilling to explain further.

"Ah," Maelstrom said knowingly.

"Let's move along," the Equestrian said, nudging her horse into motion. "We can chat as we go."

Nereid let the horse's butt pass her and stepped around to fall into step next to Wire. "Hi," she said hesitantly.

Wire glanced at her, and a stray beam of light from somewhere illuminated her face, composed in anger, jaw clenched, lips stitched together with thick red thread.

"Aughlgh!" Nereid said incoherently, jumping backward. "What happened?"

Wire looked away.

"Oh, that," the Equestrian said placidly. "She smarted off one time too many."

"You did that to her?" Nereid said, glancing at Tam, who shrugged as if to say, Told you so.

"She asked me to do it," the Equestrian said.

"More precisely," Maelstrom said, "she asked you to do something that would stop her from talking."

"Why?" Nereid said, unable to keep her gaze off Wire's mouth.

"You know the story," Maelstrom said, "where whenever the person said something, a frog popped out of his or her mouth?"

"Um," Nereid said.

"Well," Maelstrom went on with a disgusted whole-body shudder, "it wasn't frogs."

"There was some comment about it being something that would approve of the sewer that was her mouth," the Equestrian said, almost fondly.

Wire looked almost like she was going to make a wordless exclamation, but thought better of it.

"Rats?" Nereid suggested.

Maelstrom shuddered again. "Think more legs."

Sudden nausea seized Nereid. There was, fortunately, nothing for her to vomit. She cursed her vivid imagination.

The group strolled down the road. "We spotted a place just before we saw the fire," the Equestrian. "It's chock-full of magical defenses, and Maelstrom says he smells human soul all over it."

"Stinks of it," the horse said with a snort.

"Glad to know our souls stink," Nereid said, more than a little snippy. Maelstrom turned a surprised (for a horse) look at her, probably since she'd been relatively nice on the trip in. She was just out of cope. And she thought it was kind of weird that the Equestrian hadn't quizzed her about where she'd been yet.

The Equestrian rooted in her saddlebags and tossed Nereid a granola bar. "You're probably starving. Literally. You certainly look it."

Nereid only just managed to keep some modicum of dignity as she opened the wrapper and tore into the grainy sweetness. Maybe the Equestrian was just trying to be nice, in her weird, dysfunctional way.

The Equestrian looked at Tam. "I expect you've been eating."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, though he craned his neck curiously at the granola bar.

"All right then," she said, and snapped the saddlebag shut.

What they'd seen turned out to be a concrete and glass office building with castle-like crennelations around the top. The large flagpole in a circle of grass before the substantial staircase at the front door flew something that flapped in the night breeze. Nereid was afraid it might be something living, so resolved not to look too closely. Along and windy road stretched away from that flagpole, twining down the hillside toward them.

Nereid sighed. "Why is there so much uphill in this place?"

"It's the hard work of Progress," the Equestrian said. "Making everything a difficult climb both ways in the snow."

Maelstrom snorted. "You told me once it's because we all like to live in hills. That we have a fetish for them because they symbolize female sexuality or something."

"That too," the Equestrian said blithely, and kicked him in the ribs, a sure sign, Nereid had found, of temper.

Tam grabbed Nereid's hand and clutched it tight for the entire ascent. Nereid kept glancing at Wire, who was walking with her shoulders hunched and her head hanging miserably. Part of her longed to go try to say something nice to Wire -- it was her fault that Wire was here, after all -- but Tam wouldn't release her. When she glanced at his face, she realized he was very pale and his lips were pressed together so hard they were as white has his face.

He noticed her glance and forced himself to smile. After a moment, he leaned over and kissed her lingeringly on the neck. Their progress paused, until a pointed throat-clearing from the Equestrian made Tam jump away from Nereid like a startled cat. The two of them hurried after the horse.

Wire was staring at them, and Nereid felt a blush suffuse her face to the roots of her hair. It was a relief when they reached the front door of the building.

"No guards," Maelstrom said.

"I'll never believe that," the Equestrian said. "Do it."

Maelstrom snorted once, then again, more sonorously. He pawed the ground with one forehoof. He began to glow faintly red, and Wire jumped away from him as if she'd been burnt by standing too close.

Then the horse exhaled a blast of flame. It turned and swirled and built into a ball the size of the glass doors. Then, almost gently, he blew on the ball.

It rolled with silent majesty through the doors, leaving a neatly melted hole in its wake.

"Does it stop?" Tam asked, peering into the hole curiously.

"Where I tell it to," Maelstrom said, more than a little smug.

"Let's go," the Equestrian said, digging in her heels.

The inside of the building was far more bizarre than the outside: the walls were made of gears, big and small. You could catch glimpses of rooms and other hallways through the gaps in the gears, but not many, since there appeared to be multiple layers of gears. All of the gears were still, and Nereid suspected they were for show.

The ball of fire bobbed along in front of them as they moved through the foyer. It illuminated a giant, gleaming, metallic spiral staircase, each broad step a gigantic gear.

They paused and contemplated this construct in a long and disapproving silence.

Finally, the Equestrian leapt from Maelstrom's back. "Bloody hell," she said. "We might as well get on with this."

Her trip through this land had definitely resigned Nereid to the narratively inevitable, she thought, because she wasn't surprised at all when the gears of the staircase began to turn as soon as the Equestrian's boot touched the lowest step.

"Come on then!" the Equestrian yelled as she began to sprint up the stairs.

Maelstrom was in his human form, leaping lightly up and up. He left the fireball floating at the bottom of the stairs.

Wire, Nereid, and Tam all looked at each other. "Go on ahead," Nereid said dully. "I'm going to be slow."

Wire gave her a slightly wild look, but turned and started to run, staggeringly, upward.

"Hurry," Tam said, tugging her hand. "It's only going to speed up."

"Yeah," Nereid said, twisting her arm loose and feeling unutterably weary. "Go on."

He bounded up almost as lightly as Maelstrom.

Nereid felt like someone had turned up the gravity, but knew Tam was probably right. Still, she started her ascent in slow, deliberate steps, timing the various rotations. Some of the next steps rotated in the opposite direction from the one on which she stood; some moved in the same direction, only slightly slower or faster.

Sophie had always told her that she went about these puzzles too slowly when they played videogames together. Sometimes, Sophie would lose patience and take the controller from her. Sometimes, she'd settle for shouting instructions.

Sophie. Would they find her here? Or were they on a wild goose chase?

The gears were speeding up. Something was happening behind her, down the stairs. She heard grinding metal, felt the staircase shake.

Inevitably, she stumbled and fell, catching her foot on a tooth of a gear-step, but she caught herself on the center post. In the few seconds she faced backward, she glimpsed something huge and feline batting the fireball around kittenishly at the foot of the steps. The fireball hit one of the steps and melted right through it, resulting into another stairquake as the gears snagged. Suddenly, she had the adrenaline to follow her companions at speed.

By the time she reached the top of the stairs, the gears were starting to whirl and throw sparks. She threw herself at the landing, catching herself and shoulder-rolling to the booted feet of the Equestrian.

"About fucking time," the Equestrian snapped. "I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to return you to your mum in a baggie."

Nereid was breathing too hard and contemplating the stitch in her side too much to answer. Besides the staircase was screaming and smoking and, really, it was all much too loud for reasoned conversation.

The Equestrian looked at Wire, who was trying to breathe hard through her stitched lips, and Tam, who was pointedly not looking at Nereid or anyone, really. She sighed, reached down, and hauled Nereid to her feet with a good deal more strength than any thin, slight, 13-year-old girl ought to have. "You did all right," she said in a more moderate tone.

Nereid wheezed and gulped, and said, "Thanks," because her mother always taught her to reward positive behavior. She pointed back down the stairs. "Big cat! With the fire!"

The Equestrian peered down the stairs and then glanced at Maelstrom. "Don't leave your toys around for the guards to play with," she said, adding, "And never set the cat on fire."

"Tsk," he said, rolling his eyes. "Geek."

Nereid was finally able to look around, and found that they were standing in a great domed room which appeared to be made of plain grey concrete cast in giant blocks. There was a door standing in the center of the room with no visible supports, a great carved ivory throne on a (concrete) dais at the far side of the room from them, and a very plain golden crown gleaming on the seat of the throne. A massive bank of old-fashioned computers lay in an arc before the throne, and several walls of glowing vacuum tubes were lined up like dominoes. An arch of the same gray blocks loomed over the throne, giant sans-serif letters picked out in gilt: HERE AND EVERYWHERE RULES THE LORD OF THE WEST.

"Oh," the Equestrian said upon reading the arch. "Another bloody pretender. They're a dime a dozen, here."

Nereid looked up. "It looks like it's about to fall on us."

The Equestrian snorted. "Probably not, but I wouldn't trust this Soviet Brutal style any further than I could throw it."

Maelstrom snorted and pawed at the slick gray floor with one booted foot. "I think you're being unfair to the Soviets. Brutal, I'll give you that."

Around the base of the dais were things like laboratory benches, and a great, ominous, funnel-shaped thing. A bell jar about two feet high dangled in the air above the funnel; inside it was a tiny figure.

Wire leapt forward, exclaiming, when she spotted the bell jar. Then she retched and staggered to one side, fumbling a pocket knife out, opening the blade, and bringing it to her mouth. Nereid looked away nervously, toward the bell jar.

She stared and ran forward a few paces. She looked back at the Equestrian. "Sophie!" she cried, pointing to the miniscule and slightly transparent figure under glass.

The door chose that moment to begin to glow, and there was a great moaning sound from the walls around them. Gears embedded in the concrete around the walls began to turn, and ponderously, the dome began to rotate.

"Well, shit," the Equestrian said, mouth twisting wryly. "And everything was going so well, too."

---

Note from the Author:
Just a little ostentation. For the look of the thing, really.

One a' Them Mettyfors

"Come to the wedding!" sang the little birds in the branches overhead. "Everyone must come to the wedding!"

The Equestrian leaned forward and slapped Maelstrom's ears. "'I know these woods,' you said," she said. "'Just some bimorphs. No trouble at all,' you said. Bollocks."

Maelstrom laid his ears flat against his head. "It is a shortcut," he said sulkily.

Nereid looked up at the Equestrian and thought, not for the first time, how strange it was to see an expression that old on a face that young. "What's wrong? It sounds kind of nice."

"Weddings," the Equestrian said in the tone of voice people generally reserved for discussing gangrene.

Wire reached out and broke a delicate icicle off a tree branch. "Weird season for a wedding."

The woods glittered and gleamed with ice and frost and tiny sparks of snow that occasionally blew off upper tree branches like powdered sugar. The evergreens were coated with snow in the lumps generally only seen on Christmas cards. A perfect one-inch layer of snow muffled their footsteps as they made their way deeper into the woods.

"Now we have to attend," the Equestrian said, venting her ire on Maelstrom's ears again.

"We can't just give our regrets and, er, best wishes or something?" Nereid said.

"That would be rude," Wire said, possibly to demonstrate that she'd learned something from the Equestrian's frequent lectures on the necessity of politeness in this land.

"Exactly," the Equestrian said. "Let's go. The sooner we're there, the sooner it's over."

Maelstrom heaved a sigh. "They love having human guests." His ears perked up and his tone brightened. "But they should have some decent booze. And dancing. You haven't let me go dancing for ages."

"That's because you have four left feet," said the Equestrian. "I'm just acting for the public good."

Maelstrom snorted.

"So, um, is there anything we should know about, you know, what to do?" Nereid said.

"Don't eat or drink anything here," the Equestrian said. "Even if it means being rude. Because, frankly, I don't want to have to explain to your parents why I'm bringing them a ferret instead of a daughter."

"Oh," Nereid said.

The clearing was vast, and the ground was coated with snow that was hardened so that it felt like marble underfoot. Stark white birch trees stretched high overhead, coated in the remains of an ice storm, and the branches contained a peculiarly melodious chorus of birds. Down on the floor, there were long tables covered with frothy white tablecloths. The tables nearly groaned under the weight of hundreds of steaming silver platters and bowls of food. A throng of people filled the clearing, most of them appearing to be animals in human clothing, but everyone seemed to flow easily from animal to human and back again.

When Maelstrom strolled in with the Equestrian on his back and Wire and Nereid walking to either side, the crowd turned, exclaimed joyously, and closed around them. Nereid found herself pressed back against Maelstrom's shoulder by the earnest greetings of a pack of wolves in Victorian tailcoats and top hats. "Thank you," she said again and again in response to their enthusiastic compliments about her hair, her figure, her costume, her presence, her smile -- anything, in short, that they could find to compliment about her, even things they could have no knowledge of, like her kindness or grace. At least she could hear that Wire was having a similar experience on the other side of the horse. The Equestrian, however, was a silent monolith on the horse's back, glowering at everyone equally.

The wolves fell away as a large puma-woman with acres of cleavage in several square miles of heavily-corseted green satin dress advanced on the humans. A handsome young man with large, dark, sensitive eyes trailed behind her, his sculpted chest and shoulders clearly visible through his thin silk shirt. "Welcome!" she purred. "We're terribly flattered that you could attend our little... event." Nereid could swear she winked at Maelstrom, and glimpsed consternation on the face of the young man. "Why don't you come have a seat? Perhaps something to drink...?"

"Thank you, lady," the Equestrian said, "but we cannot, as you know, partake of hospitality of that sort. Though we're very glad to be able to see such a spectacular event."

"Ah, yes," the woman said, taking her young man's arm. "But surely your steed can."

The Equestrian sighed and slid off Maelstrom's back. Nereid staggered a bit as the object she was leaning against changed from solid horse to tall, slender man. He caught her, almost as an afterthought, and smiled down at the puma. "Of course I can, and I will, by your leave, lady."

The puma nodded graciously. "I hope you all will enjoy yourselves as best you can," she said before moving off with her escort. As Nereid eyed his well-built back, she noticed the large rack of antlers that crowned his head briefly.

"So who's getting married?" Wire said, looking around.

Maelstrom bowed to the Equestrian and moved off, making a beeline toward a table full of bottles that was being managed by a raven-boy. One of the wolves passed close by, paying outrageous compliments to a small, plump hen-woman on his arm.

The Equestrian ran a practiced gaze over the crowd, then pointed toward an archway of black thorny branches on which ice-carved roses bloomed. "I'd say that's her."

A slim young woman, skin pale as the snow, stood demurely under the arch. She was crowned with a sparkling tiara and wore what appeared to be a white tutu with a long, long train no actual ballerina could manage. Her bridal veil was adorned with feathers, and divided in two just below the nape of her neck, trailing behind her like wings.

"Why does she look so... human?" Nereid asked.

"She's a swan princess," the Equestrian said. "That's her thing."

Wire looked confused. "Looking human?"

"Yes," the Equestrian said. "And, if I'm not mistaken, she's got two potential husbands. That argument there." She pointed to a pair of young men who were clearly "having words" not too far from the bride-to-be.

"Wait," Wire said. "They don't know who's marrying her yet? But they've got the wedding set up?"

Nereid's attention was arrested by an enormous white construction nearby. "With a cake and everything," she breathed, admiring the seven-tiered edifice that stood alone on a round table, a wreath of ice-coated ivy around its base. It was decorated with sugar frosting delicate as chantilly lace, with swags of pale pastel fruit and marzipan on each tier. Fine sugar chains depended from the upper tiers, each adorned with a tiny confection of a golden ring. The cake was topped with a cage filigreed of spun sugar and holding a live turtledove, who preened and cooed, apparently enjoying being on display.

Wire turned to look and said, "How do they keep the bird from shitting on the cake?"

Nereid glowered and said, "This is like a fairy tale. Shit doesn't happen."

The Equestrian made a loud, harsh noise that Nereid thought might possibly have been a laugh, but it was hard to tell with her.

They made their way closer to the bridal arch. A small cat in very large cavalier boots and a blue-feathered Musketeer hat stomped past, making a beeline for the same table Maelstrom was inhabiting. He or she ordered an enormous glass of something and downed it immediately, ordering a refill as the glass hit the table. Maelstrom said something to the cat, and the cat rolled its green eyes expressively before slamming down another glassful.

Nereid heard Wire say, "Oh, excuse me," and saw that Wire and a lovely young woman in a figure-hugging black sequined sheath dress and a black feathered wrap had just collided.

"Not a problem," the young woman said huskily. "These affairs are always so crowded."

The Equestrian eyed her suspiciously and said, "Family of the bride?"

"My sister," the woman said, dabbing at her eyes with a black-edged handkerchief.

"Didn't I see you at a wedding not long ago?" the Equestrian said.

"Yes," the black swan princess said. "Oh, yes. My own wedding, no doubt. But as you can see, I am recently bereaved. It was a terrible, surprising event." She smiled brilliantly at Wire and undulated in the direction of Maelstrom.

"I expect the Carp Prince was most surprised of all by his own demise," the Equestrian muttered and turned toward the bride again, where the two suitors were remonstrating.

One was an auburn-haired fox man, sleek in a dark red tail coat, tight breeches, high polished black boots, and a high-necked, neatly-tied cravat a la Beau Brummel. The other was a taller, dark-haired wolf nattily attired in a grey Victorian morning suit, complete with high silk hat. They both leaned close to the bride, speaking low and urgently. She fluttered and blushed and looked to be thoroughly enjoying herself.

Finally, she turned and took the arm of the fox. A thin cheer went up around the clearing, and people began to drift closer to the arch expectantly. Nereid noticed several small knots of people were surreptitiously exchanging what looked like money or small jewels. The wolf stepped back, and seemed to be about to stalk away, when the fox said, "But stay, friend, and be my best man. After all, no hard feelings, what?"

The wolf snapped his jaws at the fox, but remained where he was. The fox smiled and clasped his bride-to-be close to his side. "Come, my dove, we'll have this wedding yet. Bring up the man to do the job!" he called.

There was a general kerfluffle among the attendees, and a squawk sounded from a goose woman that stood near Nereid. A smiling and rotund boar in a long brown robe, holding a brandy glass in one hand ambled from behind the goose and up toward the young couple. The goose huffed and hurried away from his self-satisfied smirk.

"Beerly deloved!" the boar bellowed. "No, wait, that's not quite right."

"It is for us!" a raven girl called from the drinks table, holding aloft a large beer stein.

"Dearly beloved!" the boar corrected himself. "We are gathered here today to see the marriage of the swan princess to her chosen prince! And a lucky bastard he is too, if I may say so." A cheer went up around the clearing, and the bride blushed.

Nereid had trouble keeping her gaze on the couple. Every time she glanced at the cake, she noticed new details, and she kept looking back to it. It was so glittery, so sparkly. Were those tiny interlinked hearts in the frosting swags? Did the turtledove really have a swing in its sugar cage?

Wire elbowed her and whispered, "What's got you so hot about that cake?"

"It's just so pretty," Nereid said, looking again. One tier's piping was made up of little pomegranates, each split open and showing seeds that were tinted the faintest pink. "Do you suppose it tastes as good as it looks?"

"Who the hell cares?" Wire said. "We're not going to get to eat it. We'll just get another of those energy bars the Equestrian keeps feeding us. I'm so fucking hungry I can barely see straight."

"And I've got lemon-flavored bars for the pains in my ass who shut the hell up," the Equestrian said. Wire flushed angrily.

"Where's the ring?" roared the boar-priest. "Who's got it?"

There was a general sort of scrum around the clearing, and the beautiful vixen who was apparently standing as the maid of honor finally rolled her eyes and produced a golden ring from her cleavage. She handed it to the wolf, who sulkily handed it to the fox. The fox thanked him loudly, which made hackles stand up on the wolf's neck. The red-headed vixen inadequately concealed a yawn behind one slender hand.

"Excellent!" the boar said. "Well, don't just stand there, put the ring on her hand!"

The fox bent and took up the swan princess' tiny hand, sliding the ring onto the appropriate finger. He looked up into her eyes and smiled. She smiled back radiantly, then turned to face the audience to receive the applause with triumphantly raised, newly beringed hand.

"I now pronounce you man and wife!" the boar said into the tumult. "You may now kiss the bride."

The fox bent her back over his arm and kissed her. The ravens thumped the table and cheered raucously. A host of small animals, including stoats, ferrets, crows, and raccoons rushed forward to help carry the bride's train.

Nereid noticed that there was a small flock of chickadee women and several shy, twitchy-nosed young men who quietly faded into the woods around the clearing.

The puma who had greeted them reached out and seized the arm of her cervine companion warmly.

The fox swung his bride over his shoulder, despite her squeaked protests, and carried her through the arch, pursued by the train-carriers and wedding party.

The Equestrian grabbed Wire and Nereid's shoulders and dragged them backward. "What?" Wire said, staggering a little.

"Come on," the Equestrian said. "Believe me, you don't want a ringside seat at the feast."

Unseen beyond the press of people now, the bride screamed. Nereid's eyes went wide. "What's wrong? Shouldn't we help her?"

The bride screamed again, this time a high, shrill note of terror that ended in a wet ripping sound.

"Oh, my god," Wire said, green in the face.

The wolf best man stood up on a table. His face was covered in blood and he was laughing. "I got the biggest piece! I win after all!" he shouted. Ravens circled and called overhead, croaking encouragement.

The vixen maid of honor emerged from the feast, daintily wiping her mouth with a white floral napkin. She winked at the three humans and said, "You know what they say: always a bridesmaid and never a bride." She moved off to the champagne fountain.

The Equestrian halted near the cake table. "Wait here," she said. "I have to go fetch Maelstrom." And she headed for the drinks table.

Wire still looked sick. "Still wondering if the cake tastes as good as it looks?" she sneered. With a flick of her fingers, ribbons of her trademark molecule-thick "wire" spun out and sliced down through the edge of the lowest tier. "Have a slice!" She yanked on the ribbons to peel the slice open.

An empty icing shell fell away from the rest of the cake. They both stared at the hollow cake in consternation as, slowly, delicately, beautifully, it began to crumble down to its component sugar molecules. Presently, the whole cake had become a pile of sugar with a dead bird on top.

Nereid bit back a sob, knowing that Wire would only make fun of her if she let it out.

The Equestrian and Maelstrom trotted up. "Get on," the Equestrian said, seizing Wire by the scruff of the neck and hauling her aboard. Nereid clambered up behind, and Maelstrom's enormous frame surged out of the clearing and into the woods, leaving the screams, howls, snarls, and snatches of drunken song behind.

Presently, Wire said, "What the fuck was that all about?"

Maelstrom shook his mane. "Do you need it spelled out for you?" His voice rumbled through his ribcage and against their legs. "Don't fuck anyone who wants to eat you. Literally or metaphorically."

"They take their metaphors," the Equestrian said, "seriously here."

---

From the Author:
Tip o' the Musketeer hat to my wife, who helped me concoct this bit of dreadful fairy drama.

I'm posting twice weekly during January. If you like this twice-weekly thing, I'm doing it again in January: if January's posts draw 50 comments total, I'll post twice weekly through February too. As before, if you provide a comment bonanza, I'll extend appropriately.


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Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

Madame Destiny's little suburban split-level house had thick, white, wall-to-wall carpeting in the foyer, the living room, and the steps down to the lower level. Nereid tread softly in the slippers she put on at the door, following X's black coattails down the stairs and into Madame's Consultation Room.

"Pacifica!" Madame said as she advanced to hug Nereid, her round face wreathed in smiles. "It's so good to see you. It's been a long time. You look so much like your father these days."

Nereid endured the embrace with a rictus of a smile. "Thanks. It's, uh, good to see you too, Madame."

When Madame released her, the Equestrian stood up from the comfortable overstuffed chair she'd been ensconced in. "Hey, there," she said, extending her hand to Nereid. She was about 4 inches shorter than Nereid, slim-bodied and blonde, and eternally 13 years old. She gave Nereid the shivering willies. Nereid had really hated being 13. "I don't think we've met in a professional capacity... and I think I last saw you when you were shorter than me."

Nereid shook her hand, murmuring a greeting, and glanced around. Tiffany lamps, peach walls, and good soundproofing made the room a quiet, comfortable, easy-on-the-eyes sort of place to gather. Only she, the Equestrian, Madame, and X were there. "Where's...?" she began, a little puzzled.

"He's a filthy horseboy," the Equestrian said with a half-smile.

"He left a mess of mud and grass on my carpet upstairs a few years ago," Madame said, reassuming her seat. "He's not allowed in until he learns to clean his boots."

The Equestrian snorted. "He'll never be in then."

"You need to teach him better manners," Madame said.

"Him?" the Equestrian said. "Better luck teaching manners to a wild bull."

X gently pushed Nereid into one of the comfy chairs adorned with a pastel flower pattern, then took a seat on what looked like a piano bench.

"So," the Equestrian said after taking a long drink from a bottle of hard lemonade, "you called, I'm here. What's up?"

Nereid looked at X. X looked grim, then said, "You've heard about Sophie -- Brainchild, the Ultimate's daughter, right?"

The Equestrian nodded, examining her bottle. "Heard she's comatose since that dustup with Josh Feldstein."

X said, "That's right. Well, the Oracle gave us a clue..."

"A typically cryptic and annoying one," Madame put in. "About going on a spiritual walkabout, essentially."

"And so Nereid and I went to Lucid's Dream Party to see if anyone there had seen Sophie," X said. "And some people had."

The Equestrian was watching X's face now, a slight frown on her face. "I don't like where this is going," she said.

X shrugged. "The door she went out through was, I'm relatively certain, a door to..."

The Equestrian waved a hand violently. "Yes, yes, I can guess. And you want me to look for her?"

"Actually," X said, meeting Nereid's gaze briefly, "we were hoping you'd take us there."

"Us?" Madame said, sitting up suddenly. "Oh, no, you can't leave, X."

X twitched visibly, then grew pale. Fists bunched so the knuckles were white, X said, through gritted teeth, "Madame, Sophie is my friend. I have to help find her."

"Your duty is here," Madame said. "I can't function here without you. You keep up on everything, and there's no telling how long you'd be in that country. Worse, if you were to be lost..." Madame wrung her hands. "I just can't condone you going, X."

"I..." X began, then bit back whatever the rest of the sentence was.

Nereid, for once in her life finding a clear cue for interfering in a conversation, hurriedly said, "That's all right, X. I can ask one of the Cosmics to come along." She looked at the Equestrian's distracted frown and added, "If the Equestrian will take us, that is."

They all looked at the Equestrian.

"If I were to take you along," the Equestrian began slowly, staring at her hand where it clenched the fabric of her breeches, "you would have to agree to follow every order and direction I give you. No questions, no cavils, because if you do something wrong there, you could be trapped there forever, or worse." She looked up at Nereid. "Can you promise to do that, Pacifica? Because if you can't promise me that you'll do as I say, then I'll go looking myself and leave you here."

Nereid nodded so hard she felt her teeth rattle against each other.

"Whoever else comes along will have to agree too," the Equestrian said, glancing only briefly at X, whose face had gone angular and expressionless. "I can't predict what will happen there. We might be separated despite you following my directions. Something else might happen. The only absolute about that place is that it's always changing, and it's always the same."

Nereid frowned, trying to parse that, and then just filed it away for later. "I understand," she said. "I promise."

The Equestrian sighed and rose to her feet. "Don't leave without seeing your parents," she said. "They'd kill me if you did."

Nereid showed uncommon good sense -- she thought -- in choosing to leave with the Equestrian, especially given the almost visible tension between X and Madame. Outside the bright green front door, the Equestrian turned and looked up at her.

"Ask someone you can count on," she told Nereid, "but I'm afraid the android probably shouldn't be the person to come along. He might, um, malfunction."

Nereid said, "Oh. Oh! That would be terrible, yes. I..." She desperately thought through the team roster and said, "I'll ask Wire. She... she cares about Sophie too."

The Equestrian cocked a smile. "Sometimes, I guess, that's all one can depend on." She snapped her fingers and an enormous black stallion with a white star on his forehead and a white sock on a front hoof stepped into sight next to her. "Need a ride home?"

Nereid took a step backward from the horse, whose eyes, she was sure, glowed red deep inside, and shook her head. "I'll... I... I'll be fine. Thanks!" With a quick wave, she turned and fled down the sidewalk toward the bus stop.

When she glanced over her shoulder, the pair was gone.


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From the Author:
Sorry for the disappearance. Real life suddenly came down like a hammer! I'll answer comments soon, I promise!

My wife was wonderful with titles again and always, making up for my lack of brain.

Again: I'm posting twice weekly during the month of December as a [fill in holiday here] gift for you all. If you like getting WCS twice weekly, then please comment on anything. :) If I get 50 comments over the course of December, I will post twice weekly all through January as well. If I get 75 comments, I'll post twice weekly through February. If, by some amazing work of you wonderful folks, I get more comments than that, I will come up with some even better reward.

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Ain't Got Nothin' But Time

More people came to visit while they were sitting shiva than to the graveside service, which was just fine as far as Ira was concerned. Not many of his old friends were willing (or able) to brave the sleet and snow and freezing temperatures, though he had appreciated those that had. The tables in the kitchen and living room were piled high with food people had brought, and the wine rack on top of the refrigerator was restocked. Suzanne moved around the room when people were there, the gracious hostess, somehow buoyed up when things should have been beating her down. He watched her with vague admiration through the slowness of his brain.

Andrea chatted amiably with people from her enthronement in the corner that day. Her husband David was whisking away abandoned glasses and plates and dealing with other logistical matters in a low-key way that made Ira think uncharitably of a butler.

People talked to Ira. Sometimes he recognized them. Nox the Night-Stalker still had those amazing eyes that reached into you and grabbed you by your figurative lapels so you couldn't help but pay attention to him. Madame Destiny was another person you couldn't ignore, and that strange apprentice of hers... The Equestrian showed up the second or third day, all apologies for not meeting him to give him warning. She finally realized he wasn't really responding to her, or anyone, and had just hugged him hard. Her horse patted him on the shoulder and given him a sad look.

Ah, how the great -- or at least mediocre -- have fallen. Pity from a horse.

Ira didn't recognize her until she had stood in front of him for a long moment, young and nervous in her black dress and battered brown winter coat. She smiled tremulously when he focused on her and put out her hand. "Mr. Metropolitan, I'm... I'm very sorry."

He saw the details of her: brown hair, pale skin, hazel eyes, and freckles. Very, very young. He stood abruptly and took her hand. "I... I'm glad you came. Ruth... the Ultimate, you know... explained what happened. I'm afraid I don't understand all of it..."

"Neither do I," she said with a twitch of a smile. Her hand was hot and a little damp and after shaking Ira's hand, she shoved it into the pocket of her coat and stood awkwardly.

"Why don't you sit down?" Ira said, gesturing to the chair next to his. "Do you want a drink or a plate of something? So many people have brought food, I don't think Suzanne and I will be hungry for months. Ruth brought a big pot of red rice, and the Silver Guardian brought over her potstickers, and Carolus brought these little... cheese things that I'm a little afraid of..." He was vaguely aware that he hadn't spoken so much since it all happened.

She started to sit, then rose, alarmed. "Oh, no! That's fine, I'm not really hungry right now."

Ira made pat-patting motions and seated himself. She sat down too. They looked over the living room together: it was crowded with people who were para or friends of paras. Several of the Guardians were there, along with some of the ex-Junior Guardians who were active when Josh was active. A few of the Gold Stars had drifted in and out, but there was, understandably, no big organizational attendance. Ira spotted a couple of the Young Cosmics, High Speed's youngest boy Mercury and that android the Cosmics had rescued some time back -- Citizen Kane or something.

Suzanne, sleek and handsome in a grey pantsuit, swept up, smiling at the girl. "Thought you might like something warm," she said. "It's pretty bitter out there." She slid a cup of hot mulled cider into the guest's hand, winked at Ira, and made her way back into the crowd.

Ira and the girl watched her go.

"She... doesn't seem like a widow," the girl ventured, sipping her cider.

"It's been hard on her, all these years," Ira said. He sighed. "I expect she's been ready to get on with her life for a long time now."

The girl looked at him. "What's going to happen now? I mean, will you live alone?"

Ira shrugged. "I don't know. This is her house, you know. I earned my keep, as much as I could, by helping take care of Josh. And now..." He shrugged again. "We haven't talked about it."

"She wouldn't throw you out?" the girl said, sounding a little outraged.

Ira smiled. "She'd be well within her rights to do it. I'll just... I'll find some place. It'll be fine. But what about you?"

The girl's gaze dropped to the carpet. "I... well, I'm where I wanted to be."

"You are?"

She nodded, looking into her cup of cider, then taking a swig. "I made a deal with her... it... whatever it was. It would get me out of my parents' nightmare of a house, out of that crappy little town, and to Wonder City, and I wouldn't have to deal with any of it but the aftermath. And she... it... got the use of my body until its mission was over."

Ira stared at her, struggling with disbelief. Then he thought about the second Bombshell, who had told him late one night after the gang's Christmas party about how she'd gotten her para powers: she'd been terrified to leave her father's house on her own, afraid of the streets and afraid of her father, so had preferred to be taken aboard an alien spacecraft, bombarded with unknown rays, and taken off to a distant planet to fight in someone else's war to staying even one more day there.

Really, it wasn't that odd.

"I understand," he said, patting her hand. "Sometimes you have that one opportunity, and you have to take it."

"Yeah," she said. "I still have my room at the Y, and she... it... we got a job at this coffee house. So it's not like I'm living on the streets or anything."

"You're doing all right, then?" he said.

She nodded. "It'll be fine."

They smiled at each other for a long moment. Then she stood up. "I should go. I'll... see you around the Y, right?"

"Sure thing," he said, rising to take her hand again. "I'll be back there next week. Thank you for coming."

"No problem," she said, clasping his hand firmly.

She took a step away, then turned back. "I forgot to tell you," she said, "my name isn't actually Lizzie."

Ira smiled sadly. "I'd wondered."

"My name is Robyn," she said in a low voice. "But... would you mind if I kept using Lizzie? I... kind of like it. And I don't really like who I'm named for."

Ira's smile threatened to crack his face. "No, darlin'. I don't mind. And I think you would've liked my Lizzie, if you could ever have met her."

"Thank you." She hesitated, then kissed him on the cheek. "See you around."

He was still smiling as he settled back into his chair.

The Outsider came over to give him a cup of tea. "That the girl?" she asked.

He nodded. "Sweet kid," he said. "Nothing like her, of course. I wonder why I thought so?"

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