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Star bowed deeply to the Lindwyrm. As a fairy, he knew better than to thank the Lindwyrm—though in this case it would likely be fine, since they’d already offered him something other than words, he didn’t want to antagonize the dragon. “I’m grateful,” he said softly. “Dominic is a man I have offered control of my life to, and he has repaid me in glory. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the situation, but the risk—”

“Either a demon or a witch, and another brook horse,” the Lindwyrm said, briskly. “Lord Dandelion has explained, including updating me as more information came in. I believe I have the gist. I will not get further involved, not for any blood or words, but I will offer my hospitality and protection, as discussed.” 

Star didn’t look at Dandelion, who’d surely school his expression in front of the Lindwyrm but who hated being called Lord. “Then I’ll withdraw for a moment to reassure my human that all is well here.”

He took Dom by the shoulder, bowing again and encouraging Dom to do the same, and stepped back into the hallway, shutting the office door behind him. Dom let out a soft breath, and Star heard himself letting out an echoing one.

“How’re you doing?” he asked Dom, softly.

The silence lasted a beat too long. “I’m fine,” Dom said, then kind of gave him a rueful expression. “Sorry. Not lying, just… overwhelmed.”

“I bet,” Star said. “You want to talk about it?”

“I… I don’t know. I guess,” Dom muttered. He ran both hands over his short, tightly-coiled hair. “To be honest, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to just be actively afraid of supernatural things.”

“Even though you’re down in the Valley all the time?”

“People forget,” Dom said. “You get used to it. It becomes background. There are other fears I’m more used to.” He laughed ruefully, still low. “When I rode you the first time, I was petrified, but what you were offering me… I mean, I didn’t want to say no. I just knew that deals with monsters went bad a lot, but you seemed so legit. And then you were. I rode you and I was perfectly safe. It kind of, after that, I just kind of started to roll with it. But… maybe it’s why I’d been nervous about meeting your boss and band. Like, it’d draw me deeper into a world I was just a visitor in.”

It’s your world too, Star didn’t say. Plenty of humans stayed far away enough from the Valleys to only have the barest of interactions with otherworldly folk. He drew a slow inhalation, tasting Dom’s sweat in the air, the sense of belonging that he had when he scented Dom, someone he’d quietly added to his herd even knowing it would almost certainly be temporary. Dom would leave, or die, or some other such thing. It was natural. Still, he braced himself for rejection.

“Do you want,” Star said slowly, “after this is all done and we know it’s safe, I mean, do you want to call it off? Go back to finding work as a jockey elsewhere?”

“I don’t think so,” Dom said quickly. “I mean—” Another one of those shaky laughs. “I guess it might depend on how this all goes. If something goes horribly wrong and I get hurt or something, maybe I’ll change my mind, so I’m not going to promise, but… I don’t want to. This is the world you come from, Star. It’s the one you’ve lived in this whole time.”

What was that meant to mean? Star shook himself a little. “So?”

“So I don’t want to just walk away from the lived reality of someone who’s important to me,” Dom said, tone raw.

Star sighed, leaning against the wall, which was cool against his back. He closed his eyes.”I walked away from it myself, you know?”

There was the rustling of cloth as Dom came to lean against the wall next to him. “What d’you mean?”

“A long time ago,” Star began, and made a face. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel Dom’s eyes on him. “No, I don’t want to begin like it’s a story. I was raised in a herd. We’re herd animals; a lot of fairies are solitary, but brook horses are herd animals. For a long time, as a colt, I didn’t question what we did? Even before the gates, there were enough humans who could cross over into our world, or where we could edge out into theirs to hunt. Rivers and things like that are often between-points. Anywhere a lot of people die can be, and rivers are like that. It just wasn’t reliable, not like it’s been since the gates have opened again.” Not that he’d experienced the first time the gates were open, long before his time, back in the age of myth. They’d closed off for the intervening millennia, and had reopened around twenty-five years ago. “So they’d wander in, or we’d find a spot and slip through, and then either lure someone over to us as a human or a horse, depending on how the hunting seemed best.”

“Drown them and eat them.”

“Yeah,” Star agreed softly. Fuck, he was hungry. He hated being hungry while remembering it. “I met a boy by the river. Fell in love, though it was really a crush in retrospect. I mean, I was just a colt. It felt like the whole world, though. Spent days playing with and talking to him, until my sister saw us and forced me to drown him.”

“Forced you…?”

Star shook his head. “I was afraid of being driven out, or rejected, or beaten,” he said softly. “So I did it when I was told I had to. Of my own will, but coerced.”

Dom let out a hiss of breath.

“Then we ate him, of course.”

“So you left?”

“No. I’m a herd animal,” Star said. “And I was a child. Where would I go? So we kept on like that, which was fine until I met a girl running from an abusive father. I was a bit older then. A teenager, though of course I still considered myself a colt since I wasn’t a full-grown stallion. She found the beautiful horse by the water and sobbed against me, and I killed her father for her. I didn’t do it in front of her, and she pretended she didn’t know what I did, but she knew, and she’d ride me and hug me and whisper thanks to me time and again. I refused to drown her when the herd confronted me about being so weak a second time.”

Dom’s fingers brushed his own, and Star let him take his hand. “So you left the herd then?”

“No. Not until after they drowned her. She tasted incredible. I couldn’t do it any more. I ran as far as I could, made myself as small as possible under a waterfall and sobbed as if the fall itself were my tears. I felt like my only options were two different forms of death for my own heart. Dandelion found me there and offered me his hand and protection. As two exiles, he said. So I walked off with him and never looked back.” Star sighed softly. The old story tasted bitter on his lips. “It’s okay if you need to walk away from a situation that isn’t good for you, Dom.”

Dom lifted the hand he was holding to his mouth and kissed the palm of it, then curled Star’s fingers around the kiss for him. “You’re very brave.”

“I really am not.”

“I want to be as brave as you,” Dom said softly. “And I want to stay with you. But if I can’t, it won’t be your fault. Okay?”

It wasn’t a promise, but it’d have to be enough. Star shook himself again and pulled away with a smile. “Okay. Let’s go talk to people and learn more about this place.”

For a moment, he thought Dom was about to protest, but he just nodded, letting Star’s hand drop. “Lead on.”

Star did, taking them back to the selkie, who was packing up her harp. “Hello, miss.”

“Hello, sir,” she responded. “Finding it to your liking, then?”

“My friend here is likely to stay for a time,” Star said. “I was hoping, since you were so kind when we first talked, that you could tell me a bit about your lord the Lindwyrm.”

Her lips seemed to tighten briefly. “You surely didn’t come here knowing nothing. He’s an archivist, a collector of stories, and will offer home in exchange them, and additionally will offer protection for those who will give their blood to maintain this old house. He’s very knowledgeable about the things he has heard stories of or studied, and not about much else, as he never leaves the home. But if he’s offered to protect you here, he’ll keep his word.”

Star tilted his head. “Is it okay if someone else gives the blood and stories? My lord Dandelion offered to.”

“Dandelion?” She seemed somewhere between shocked and taken aback, and certainly had recognized his name. But then, Dandelion was a famous musician, and she was a musician as well, so it probably wasn’t that different from if Star had said something like my lord David Bowie or My liege Mick Jagger. “That’s the lordling who came in here?? Goodness.”

“It was,” Star admitted. He decided to skip the fact that he also was part of the band. “Does that make a difference?”

“Not to the Lindwyrm, surely,” she muttered. She shook her head. “It’s fine to get it from a third party; it’s still an exchange. If the Lindwyrm agrees, there’s no problem.”

“Any rules I should know about?” Dom put in.

She turned his head slightly toward him. “Violating his hospitality could cost your life. If you do something to the other tenants here, I mean. Tidy up after yourself, be polite, and treat the other tenants like expensive furniture: nice to admire and enjoy, but don’t do a thing that you’d expect to harm them.”

“Can you show us to the room Dom would be staying in?” Star asked lightly. “We’d like to take a look.”

“I’m afraid not,” she said shortly. “I can’t see the signs on the doors. I know where mine is, and one or two others, but I wouldn’t be able to tell you which rooms were empty for certain.”

“I can do it,” another voice put in, and the cat-sìth walked in. They transformed as they went, shifting into an androgynous youth in black capris and a black sweater with a white shirt peeking out from underneath. Their hair was short and fluffy black, and cat ears poked out from it, along with two tails winding behind them. “Leave it to me.”

The selkie nodded to them and turned back to her instrument, and the cat-sìth gestured. “I overheard everything you told her,” they said cheerfully. “Come with me.”

Dom and Star shared a look, but followed obligingly. “I didn’t catch your name? I’m Dom,” Dom offered. 

“Call me Miette,” the cat-sìth said, and Star updated his almost-blank impression of them to terminally online. “Don’t let Eva freak you out.” It was probably Éabha, Star realized after a moment, not Eva. “She’s overly cautious, even paranoid. Well, a demon holds her skin, so she’s been in hiding for a long time. Leaves a girl bitter boots, don’t you know?”

“Sure,” Dom said, like that was a turn of phrase that made sense to him. “Yeah, I could see that. If I had to go into hiding without half of me, I think I’d be nervous about crossing any lines myself.”

“Good man,” Miette said approvingly. “The Lindwyrm’s fine. He’s brisk, but in my experience, he treats his people as people he cares for as a liege to his subjects, not as an owner to furniture. And he’s very accommodating to the fact that different folks have different needs. Why, we keep all windows closed in here at night to keep his protection stronger, but he lets me keep mine open so I can come and go at all hours, and just puts additional warding on my room. Here we are, then, this is the most likely room.”

They stopped at one that had a blank sign on it; Star noted the ones they’d passed all either had names or symbols that surely represented the people inside. Miette opened the door for them, and gestured.

The room was nice; a bit old-fashioned, like a room in a B&B that marketed itself on its old Victorian home quality. There was a big queen-sized bed against one wall, a nice roll-top desk, a big radiator heater already humming away, and a door into an en suite bath, which was a definite nice add, Star thought. It wasn’t huge, but it was elegant and comfortable. And, yes, a window, with a lovely old oak tree outside it.

“This is lovely,” Dom said. “I… yeah. I can stay here.”

Star’s heart leaped a little. “So you’ll accept protection?”

“Like we discussed,” Dom said, “I want to help, so I want you to call me out the moment I can be useful in anything. I really don’t want to be just left on the sidelines. But it sounds like the protection will be here whenever I’m in the house, and that’s fine as long as I don’t expect to get any additional help outside.”

“That’s normal,” Miette put in, shamelessly jumping into their conversation. “Most of us have things to do, so we come and go. The Lindwyrm never goes outside, so obviously that protection doesn’t follow.”

“Then I guess we should go do an agreement,” Star said. He nodded to Miette, who nodded back, then left them, wandering down the hall like they had nothing better to do. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Dom said.

The exchange was brisk; once Dom agreed, the Lindwyrm simply turned to Dandelion, who drew a vial of silvery blood for him. He had apparently already given stories, so there was nothing else to do.

“You can begin to stay here immediately,” the Lindwyrm said. “Come and go as you please.”

“Then I’ll go pick up some of my things,” Dom said. 

Dandelion rose, fingers pressed to his bleeding wrist and sealing the wound across. “I’ll come with you,” he said. “You ought to be protected by me until you’ve made it back here. Star, what would you like to do?”

That… was a good question. He followed them out, noticing that the selkie had left the main room now, presumably having gone back to her own; he wouldn’t get any more answers from her, it seemed. He was hungry and needed to eat, so that was probably a first step. But he also needed to plan more about what he was going to do next. Where should he go? Who should he talk to, and what should he do?

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“I want to keep you safe,” Star repeated, watching Dom’s gaze slide away from his. “But I also want your help, and regardless, this should be your decision. No, it has to be your decision,” he corrected himself, as Dom looked back at him again, surprised. “If you want to help, you should be allowed to help.”

Dom swallowed visibly, throat bobbing. “But?” he prompted.

Star gave him a wincing smile. “But I think we should at least meet Dandelion’s friend. If he insists you have to stay there the whole time, that’d be a red flag, but if he offers a safe place to return to, at least for the next few nights or when you’re not out doing the stuff you need to… well, is that a bad thing? If you get there and you decide, okay, let’s do this, well, then you’ve made the decision with all information on the table.”

The tension seemed to seep from Dom’s shoulders. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “We should meet him.”

Relief and guilt warred in Star, though he wasn’t sure why he was feeling the second one. Maybe just from trying to talk anyone into anything, he thought, annoyed, and squeezed Dom’s hand once more before releasing it. “I’ll let Dandelion know.”

“Yeah. Eat your bread,” Dom added. “I’m worried about the cut. There’s no way they can trace you through your blood, right?”

Was there? Most of the blood would have dissolved into the water right away, too diluted to really draw out. But some would have got in the other nixie’s mouth, and while a nix couldn’t track by blood alone, that didn’t mean something else couldn’t, especially if they managed to get the blood out without the nixie having swallowed it. Star was sure the impulse would be to swallow; it would be his, and he’d sworn off that sort of thing a long time ago. “It’s unlikely,” Star said uneasily. “I don’t think it’ll happen. But I’m not going to say it’s impossible.”

“Cool. Great. Just another thing to try to keep in mind, I guess,” Dom said.

Trying to assuage Dom’s worries, Star took a big bite of the bread, chewing as he texted Dandelion back. Haven’t decided but we’d like to meet him. If Dom’s allowed to come and go freely but is protected in the home that’d be the most likely scenario we’d say yes to.

Dandelion texted back an address and a thumb’s up emoji, which was as good an answer as any, and Star ate another bite, forcing himself to keep going until he’d finished the slice. He wanted meat, but the bread would do for now. He could get a real meal once this was dealt with.

Turning back to Viv, he said, “I think we’re heading out for a bit now, okay? Text me if anything comes up?”

“Wait a sec,” Viv said, beckoning him over. “I was trying to figure out if there was anything else you might need, and they suggested some of this cake.”

“Covert cake,” the brown-haired ‘babe’ said. “My brother made some earlier as an experiment and we’re mostly out, but we’ve got one slice left. It’s a bit experimental but great for sneaking.”

“Your brother?” Dom asked, frowning.

‘Babe’ waved a hand. “Oh, I don’t work here. I’m just around enough to help out once in a while. My brother’s training under Antoine, so lots of experimental spell bakes end up here and I eat whatever to help test edge cases. It’s my privilege as—”

Antoine took the cake box that ‘Babe’ was holding. “Okay, that’s enough info for our customers,” he said dryly. “Covert cake is fairly good at keeping you from being seen or heard for about one hour. We’re working on a mix to try to extend it. There’s only one slice right now, so use it when you really need to not be noticed or seen for an hour.”

Star took it, vanishing it into his portable pocket. “How much?”

“$10. As noted, it’s experimental and was made by a novice.”

He paid up. “Any other warnings?” 

“Yeah. If you, or whoever eats it, interacts with someone directly, the spell will instantly break,” Antoine warned. “And for some reason, your shadow crossing any part of them, including their shadow, counts as direct interaction. So you’d need to keep your distance. Also, you can’t eat it and your freebie slice of protection pie at the same time. They don’t interact well.”

Star considered that. “That’s probably fine,” he said slowly. “Makes sense. Either you think you’re going to get into a scrape and take the pie, or you’re gonna try to avoid one and take the cake.”

“One hopes. With experimentation we might refine it, but that won’t be a quick process,” Antoine said. “I appreciate your business. Come by again if you need anything. If you call a day in advance I can try to get more whipped up.”

Frankly Star had already eaten more than enough baked goods with the slice of bread alone, but it was worth keeping in mind. “Will do. It’s a kindness. I appreciate it.”

He bowed slightly, gave Viv a farewell wave—looked like she had gotten into conversation with this ‘babe’, probably about witch stuff, and he and Dom headed for the door.

“It’s not far,” Star said, reviewing the address again. “Really close to the gate.” That was just a fifteen minute walk from the bakery. “You comfortable walking?”

“Sure,” Dom said. He fell into step beside Star.

Both were silent for a little while, and then Dom cleared his throat. “So,” he said. “You’re really worried, huh?”

“I mean. You’re my friend,” Star stammered, suddenly flustered and not entirely sure why. “You’re my rider.”

“Yeah,” Dom said. “I still don’t really… understand how this happened. Us, I mean. Rider and horse. Is it really enough for you to stick around right now?”

What was there to say? The horse Dom had been hired to jockey for had died suddenly. The owner had unfairly blamed Dom and fired him as a jockey, and Dom was left mourning a horse he’d bonded to and the loss of income and a job he was passionate about, and worried that his reputation would have been harmed. He’d lost everything at once. Star could relate to that.

So he’d offered his services. A new league, riding a horse of his own choice. He hadn’t gone by Star at the time, but they brainstormed the registered name over drinks, tears turning to laughter. “We just met at the right time,” Star said.

“I know. I mean, I remember how it happened, I just…” Dom swallowed. “You trust me so deeply, and now my mind’s been compromised and you’re still trusting me, and still helping me. Going out of your way to do so even though—I mean, it’d be safer for you and your lord if you just disavowed me right now.”

Star knew what Dom meant about trusting him so deeply. But Dom had trusted him first. When Star had offered to become Dom’s mount, he hadn’t done so blindly. Star had said he needed a show of trust, and Dom had willingly mounted him and let him run—him, a nixie, a brook horse, what would be called a kelpie if he’d come from another territory than he had been, fairies who were known to drown and kill and eat anyone who dared ride them.

The show of trust had been enough that Star owed him one in return. So he let Dom put a bridle on him. When a bridle was on him as they rode, he was completely responsive to all of Dom’s desires. He was required to be. It made him subservient to Dom in every way, and he only got his freedom back after the race when the bridle came off.

Dom hadn’t liked it, not really, had even offered to ride bridleless, but receiving commands was how a horse was ridden by a jockey instead of just following his own feet. Dom wouldn’t be doing anything without one, and the offer would have been empty. Star had tried to explain that it was just a domestic horse’s nature, to learn to respond to a bridle and have difficulty fighting it with a good rider, and Dom had argued that Star wasn’t domestic. It was true; it was a magical enchantment built into his bones as a brook horse. Impossible to make a normal human fully understand.

“I’m not going to disavow you,” Star said. “You’re important to me.”

“As a rider?”

This was all too much. “As you,” Star shot back. “Hang on, I have to text everyone.”

Dom fell silent and Star hurriedly buried his gaze in the phone, walking blindly as he sent a general message to the group to update them on the progress, and to remind everyone to give him regular check-ins if nothing had changed and updates if they did.

“I think we’re here,” Dom said, a short while later, and Star finally dared to glance up.

The air was thick with magic and strangeness, this close to the gate. For Dom, it would feel like a high pressure front, a headache and faint pain that he likely couldn’t avoid. Acclimatization to a gate was hard; if Dom didn’t come down to the valley regularly to ride, staying a place like this long term would be very difficult for him.

But he did, at least.

The mansion looked old, Victorian-style, though Star had no way of knowing if it actually was a heritage home that had been preserved through the shift in geography or if it was a newer home created in that style. There was a gated-off front garden, with a path that led to stairs up to the front door, and a personal garden that wound around the entire building. The building itself was painted an ominous black, including the building’s turret tower. 

The gate wasn’t iron, though; if Star didn’t miss his guess, it was silver, which would cause a problem to a variety of creatures, but Star wasn’t among them. He let out a breath as he led Dom in through the front gate. A large cat, almost the size of a dog, black with a white spot on its chest, was loafing on the lawn and keeping a close eye on them. Star glanced aside at it, making eye contact. A cat-sìth, standing guard—another fairy creature. It didn’t say anything to Star, but when Star inclined his head, it inclined its own back.

What kind of place was this, anyway? Clearly a fairy place, between the lack of iron and the cat-sìth out front, but what did that mean, in this case?

Nobody answered his knock, but when Star tried the door, it creaked open. He stepped inside, gesturing Dom in after him. To the right was a sitting room, where a beautiful woman who smelled of the sea sat, playing a harp made of bone to a handful of people, some human, some other fairies. 

“Hello,” Star called, and the woman put a hand on the strings to still them, turning towards him and Dom. Star realized she was blind, her white eyes not focusing on them. “My noble Lord Dandelion arrived earlier today and invited us here to meet the host. Where might I go?”

She was silent another moment, assessing the sound of his voice, and likely, the general scent and aura of him. He was sure she was a selkie, and wondered where her skin was—did Dandelion’s friend hold it hostage, or was she here under his protection, perhaps to hide from whoever had it? “Straight down the hall and to the left,” she said, softly melodious. “There’s a sitting room. Your lord has been in a meeting with mine for a time.”

“It’s a kindness,” Star told her with a bow he hoped she’d sense, if not see. He left her gazing blindly and thoughtfully after them as he led Dom that way. 

“Is it just me or is this place a little uncanny?” Dom whispered.

“Fairy hideouts often are,” Star said, with more confidence than he felt. The door was where the selkie had said it was, and he knocked briskly. 

“Come in,” a low voice said, and Star obligingly opened the door.

Behind him, Dom choked on a half-voiced curse, and Star could see why. Dandelion sat in one chair on the near side of the desk, but behind it, sprawled across a large chaise lounge, was a fifteen-foot-long dragon. He was slim and elegant, black scaled with a gold undertone, and his eyes were remarkably human. The dragon sat up as they entered, and he moved oddly; it was natural, like he was born to it, but with a sort of sense like he was being puppeted by something inside him, like how it felt to watch a Lunar New Year lion dance.

“I am the Lindwyrm,” the dragon said to Star with no preamble. “My old friend here said your friend may need a place to stay and be safe from those who might hunt him. I sell hospitality for stories, and protection for blood. Your lord already agreed to share stories to allow your friend to stay here as needed and leave freely as desired, and has also agreed to give a vial of his blood should your friend need protection at all times when under my roof. Are these terms amenable?”

“W-well,” Dom said. “We just met, I haven’t quite decided—”

“You may explore my home if you wish to confirm its safety and suitability,” the Lindwyrm interrupted briskly. “Question anyone you want, myself included, to make sure you know what you are getting into.” He seemed impatient and a little bored. Well, after all, Star had kept putting off coming. “Then, once you decide if my home is amenable to you, we can finalize the deal.”

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Heeeeeey all, I hate to do this two days in a row, but I got some very bad news today (yeah, separate from yesterday’s stuff) — one of my cats is sick and we got some pretty bad health news about him. I’m currently processing it and learn about our next steps to maintain the best quality of life for him, and I expect to be able to write tomorrow, but unfortunately all my brain power is going into this today. But I have some great ideas around your suggestions and I’m looking forward to writing it.

Day 14 turn-in for suggestions is extended to the usual time tomorrow once more (so Oct 17 at 3 pm PST) so anyone who needs the time to catch up, go for it! If I need to go a day or two into November to wrap things up, I will, so don’t worry about that either.

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Hey folks, some stuff came up today!

Day 14 turn-in for suggestions is extended to the usual time tomorrow instead of today (so Oct 16 at 3 pm PST)!

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Star stepped aside into the men’s room so that he wouldn’t risk anyone running into him, pulling himself up on the sink counter to sit. He swallowed, feeling too emotionally raw, too honest. He wanted to call Dom or Dandelion, hear their voice, but he also didn’t want to be speaking and add one more element that could break his glamour.

He texted Dom back first: I’m really worried, Dom. These people are willing to kill, and if you’re not a benefit, you’re a loose end. It sounds like Viv has gotten hold of a guy with some kind of protection magic, so meet me at the Twilight Council Community Association building? My heart says you should be going into hiding, but if nothing else, we’re gonna get some kind of protection against mind control on you, k?

Thumb hovering over the send icon, Star hesitated a few moments, then just tapped it. There was nothing that expunging his fears could gain here. He shook himself, then just sent Viv a quick text as well: Ok, on my way.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he began to briskly walk down the hall, sticking to the walls as much as he could, peeking into rooms. It was quickly apparent there wasn’t much he could do here, not without being willing to take risks while everyone was running around. He saw Heronika dashing past on her way outside and let her go, hoping that Georgio was able to talk to her, like they’d discussed.

Ugh, maybe he should talk to Georgio about getting some kind of headset or other hands-free phone. But if he’d wanted one, he’d already have one. Most of those still needed buttons pressed, or had systems like Alexa, Siri, or Lilith in them, and Star didn’t trust any of those eavesdropping digital sneaks. Whatever, he’d mention it to Vayne if and when he called.

That same sulphurous tang of magic tickled his nostrils as he passed the offices, and he gave a quick jiggle of a doorknob, but it was locked up tight. A peek in the window didn’t show anyone inside, either. Not necessarily something too suspicious—there were certainly a few witches who worked here as well; how else would they have any magical protection against cheating or things like that? But he didn’t love it. He certainly couldn’t break in right now, not with the building so active. Maybe he should come back here later once the activity had died down, he thought, then remembered the flooded track out back; if the other nix was using it as a base, he probably shouldn’t come alone if so. 

Regardless, no point thinking too much about that now. When nothing else turned up on a quick scan, Star headed back outside, fetching his phone again. Every step was exhausting, and he didn’t dare transform to his other self to go faster, not when he needed to rest up. Instead he trudged toward the TCCA building on foot, letting the glamour fade once he was a few blocks away.

Once the glamour had faded entirely, Star auto-dialed Dandelion, waiting a ring and a half until Dandelion picked up. “Are you okay?” Dandelion asked. His voice sounded odd, which was normal; phones didn’t like to carry a sidhe lord’s voice and tried to shake the timbre of them as the signals traveled.

“I guess,” Star said, a bit strained. He felt a hitch in his voice as he inhaled and tried to ignore it. “I’m just worried. A bunch of people almost died and they were—the other nixie was specifically trying to drown someone in particular. Can you and your friend meet me and Dom at the TC? I’m gonna try to talk him into whatever safety measures he needs.”

A sigh that glitched out slightly. “Sorry. My friend doesn’t leave his home. He’s tentatively willing to host your friend, though, so if you can talk him into coming, I’ll give his address to you at that time.”

That was understandable. Without details, Star had to assume that Dandelion’s ‘friend’ was a fairly powerful monster. He wondered what Dandelion was offering to make this deal, but wasn’t going to ask, not when Dandelion was clearly still in the guy’s home and could be overheard. “Okay. I’ll see what he thinks.” He should probably say his farewells now, then, and get his ass over to the Twilight Council a bit more quickly. “I miss you,” Star blurted out instead.

A long pause, enough that he thought the phone might have given up entirely. Then, “Oh, my darling, my sweet Schaum, my perfect vassal,” Dandelion said, pained. “If he says no, I’ll come to you right away. You shan’t be without me much longer.”

Schaum was the name that Star had been giving out to people in lieu of his real name, back when he and Dandelion had first met. It meant foam, because Star had felt fragile then, ephemeral, ready to dissolve. He didn’t feel that far from it now, and he imagined Dandelion could tell. “Bye,” Star choked out, and hung up.

He put his head down, wiping tears from his eyes, and hurried onward.

The Twilight Council Community Association was an old building in a central location, with a big lobby that had pamphlets about What to do when you discover you’re a witch and So you’re magic! and that kind of thing. There was a big board where people could sign up for various apprenticeships or lessons, and a bunch of rooms for practice and council meetings in the back, though it also hosted community events like teaching different forms of spellcraft to see what was suited to a person, or old spellbook reading days, things like that. There was a receptionist, presumably who could help look people up or get them in touch; they were a demon, with black-flame eyes and curling red hair. They gave Star a cheerful wave when they entered. “Hi, can I help you today?”

“I’m meeting her,” Star said, pointing to Viv, who was sitting on a chair playing a mobile game while she waited. The receptionist nodded, and Viv looked up as Star slid in. 

“You good?” Viv asked. “Your message was …uhh, alarming?”

“Yeah, it was pretty fucking alarming at the time,” Star said. “I got bit. Your guy isn’t here?”

“Naw, he has a bakery nearby,” Viv said. “Loaf Portions, he’s a kitchen witch. He can do some brief protection spells and has a whole thing for protecting from mind-affecting magic specifically. Let me see your arm.”

Star showed her. She hissed. “Oh, that looks nasty,” she said.

“So you can’t do anything about it?”

“No, but I bet the baker has a bunch of stuff on hand. Small healing is probably a common need.” 

The door jingled, and the receptionist asked Dom the same question as he entered. He kind of waved and stammered a no thanks as he looked them over; right, even if he was down here a bunch now, he still didn’t interact with demons often. “Hey,” Dom said, taking Star’s hand, and looking at the bite mark. He seemed a bit queasy. “I’m …worried.”

“Yeah, me too,” Star said. He got up jerkily. “Show the way, Viv. The witch has a shop nearby,” he added to Dom, taking Dom’s hand with the injured arm.

It truly wasn’t a long trip, and they entered Loaf Portions to the smell of fresh-baked bread and cookies. The proprietor looked up; he was a Black man in his late twenties with braided hair over an undercut, the long parts pulled up into a high bun. “Hey, you must be Vivian and her friends?”

“That’s me,” Viv said. “Antoine Durand?”

“In the flesh,” he said. He called back over his shoulder, “Babe, are the Mind Macarons ready?”

“Yup, here!” A tray was passed forward from the back, a mid-20s white man with brown hair leaning over the kitchen counter to hand it off. 

Star couldn’t help but snort incredulously. “Mind Macarons?”

“I mean, it’s a catchy name that makes it easy to see what they do,” Antoine said cheerily. “Eat this, nobody will be able to read your mind or alter the contents for the next twelve hours. It’ll be $60 for the lot of 6, though. $120 for 12. I’ll toss in a slice of protection pie. It won’t actually stop any magic, but it’ll help make people a bit less likely to attack you if they aren’t specifically planning to. It’s a deterrent, not a shield, but can’t hurt, right?”

Dom winced, but dug out his wallet. “For sure. I appreciate it. And I’ll get all twelve. Ten dollars a pop isn’t so bad for magic, right? Thanks for the rush order.”

“No worries. Don’t like to hear about some witch in our community using that kind of magic anyway,” Antoine said. “Anything else while you’re here?”

Star showed his arm. “I got bit by a nixie. Shouldn’t be too bad, but do you have anything to prevent infection?”

“I got Feelgood Flatbreads,” Antoine said. “It’s not a full healing or anything, that’s not my specialty, but it’ll boost your healing and should act as a natural antibiotic. You might want to see a doctor, though.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Star said. “I’m fine, I’m a fairy.”

“You’ll be fine with just a bit of magic intention, then,” Antoine said. He bagged the bread. “Twenty for the loaf, and eat a slice every few hours until it’s healed enough you wouldn’t be applying topical creams normally.”

Dom butted in. “I’ll get that too,” he said, “add it in.”

Star was about to protest, but let it go. There was nothing worse than being ungenerous with a gift. “I appreciate it,” he said as Dom paid. Viv moved in to talk more to Antoine, trying to figure out if there was anything else they might need, and Star drew Dom to the side. “Dom… listen, I’m really, really worried.”

Taking a bite of a Mind Macaron—it was pink and Star’s nose told him it was rose, not strawberry—Dom made a bit of an unhappy face.  “I know. I am too. This is my track too, and my livelihood, and … I mean, it was already really personal to me before this. They dicked around in my mind. I want to help, Star. I want to help investigate this and see if I can help figure things out. But… I’ll go into hiding if you think it’s best.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to, though, I want to keep living my life. But I wasn’t at the track to see it attacked, and you were. So… whatever you think is best, I’ll go along with it.”

Star swallowed. Now he didn’t know which to do: rely on these macarons to take care of things and work together with Dom, or tuck him away safely with Dandelion’s friend… 

“I just want to keep you safe,” Star said, taking Dom’s hand between both of his own. 

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