Hi, all! Displaced time traveler Annabelle Hawthorne staring at you live from the end of 2025!

Okay folks, let's get this train back on the rails and some text in front of your eyeballs so that you can add yet another chapter to

The Collection

Lily whistled as she stepped out the front door of her rental property, a small one bedroom studio apartment overlooking the ocean on the northern side of George Town. Though the skies were currently overcast with dark rain clouds that had yet to burst, the succubus whistled happily to herself as she strolled along the main road.

Spirit Mike walked in step at her side. Though she was wearing a bikini top with very tiny denim shorts, he was wearing white dress shorts and a button down as if he were about to step into a fancy restaurant at any moment.

"You know what?" he asked as they waited for a bus to pass before crossing the street. "Maybe we should move the house here."

"Why's that?" she asked.

Mike studied a small piece of paper in front of him. "The tax laws, obviously," he replied. "Think about all the money we could save."

"Doesn't the geas take care of all that?" she asked.

"No idea," he replied. "You don't know, so I don't know."

The succubus smirked and paused as she caught a whiff of a particularly delicious soul walking by. It was an older man in a Panama hat, out for a stroll. She mentally tagged him for consumption later. Based on the smell of his soul, he had probably killed a few people that hadn't deserved it.

"It is kind of silly," Mike continued. "How these buildings will have thousands of companies registered there, but nobody inside."

"Well, not nobody. They usually have someone who makes sure nobody is mailing them a bunch of shit." In fact, the place where they were going had a pair of guards or secretaries, Eulalie wasn't entirely certain what the scope of their responsibilities were. Most of it was to register businesses at the address itself, but apparently they were armed.

"Do you think they live there?" he continued. "Wouldn't be a bad gig. Keep the building clean, sort some mail, go be a beach bum on the weekend..."

"I would fucking love to be a professional beach bum," Lily replied. "Seriously, if I wasn't tied down, I would probably live on some of the best beaches in the world. The trash would bring itself to me, so I'd have plenty to eat. The rest of the time, I could just relax and enjoy life."

"Tied down, huh?" Mike raised an eyebrow. "That's an interesting way of putting things."

Lily snorted. "If Romeo wasn't tied down with everyone else, I would have conned him into it already."

"You could spend more time with the merfolk," Mike suggested.

"Nobody to eat there." Lily sighed. "This is what you get when your man has important shit to take care of at home and a family that's eternally growing."

"I thought you enjoyed the bigger family." Mike turned around and was walking backward now. "It means that you don't always have to be the center of attention."

"Ugh, but I want to be the center of your attention." Lily shook her head. "The real you, no offense."

"None taken. I'm just the masturbatory equivalent of the original." He stepped sideways to avoid someone walking the opposite direction. "So it's that delicate balance you crave, being at the top of the pack."

"And admitting it's a selfish desire," she added. "But I'm a demon. We're selfish by nature."

"Tell me more about yourself." Mike grinned and waggled his eyebrows as he continued to walk backward, leading Lily to their destination. The two continued chatting until they arrived at a nondescript, unlabeled building with glass doors. There were a few windows along the upper floors, but the sun's light made them impossible to see through.

"Front door is unguarded," Mike whispered. "No sign of private security or ninjas."

"If there were ninjas there, you technically wouldn't see them," Lily muttered as she studied the entrance. "Cloaked assassins stick to the shadows."

"Ah, that's what they want you to think," Mike countered. "Caribbean ninjas wear clothes that make them look like tourists or beach bums. All that black would make them stand out on the beach."

"You're thinking about this far too much." Lily approached the glass doors and shifted her appearance ever so slightly. Gone was the confident walk of a woman who knew what she was doing and where she was going. Instead, she looked slightly older, her makeup now running in places from the heat. She was just a typical lost tourist who made the mistake of taking a cab to the wrong part of town. She pushed open the door and stepped into the lobby. "Hello?"

The lobby was cooled by AC and kept meticulously clean. At the entry desk, an espresso machine had been set up, but nobody was manning it. "Is anybody here?"

When a receptionist failed to appear, Lily turned toward the machine and started fiddling with the controls. It didn't take long to figure out how the controls worked, and in just a few minutes, she had a piping hot cappuccino poured into a white, unlabeled mug.

She stood around and sipped at the drink. It wasn't terribly good, but gave her a reason to linger. Leaning over the desk, she noticed there weren't any electronics or even a phone.

"It's really weird that they have such a fancy machine with nobody around to run it." Lily fiddled with the machine some more and got it to spray hot, coffee colored water all down its front. "Oh shit," she shouted, hoping that someone would hear and make an appearance.

After a couple of minutes, the machine ran out of water, leaving a puddle on the floor. Lily and Mike stared at it, then each other.

"Still nothing?" she muttered.

Mike tapped his nose. "Caribbean ninjas," he whispered. "I bet they jump us on the way out for breaking their machine."

"It's not broken," she replied, then jammed her thumb into the touch screen until it cracked. "Now it is."

"What are the laws on property damage in Grand Cayman?" Mike reached into one pocket and pulled out a brick. "Maybe we should smash some windows."

"While I love your bad boy side, the whole point is to avoid the local police." Undeterred, the succubus roamed the lobby, looking for a door. When she finally found one, she gave it a tentative push to see if it was locked. It wasn't.

"Do you guys have a bathroom?" she asked as she pushed the door open. Instead of any sort of interior office space, it was just a stairwell. "Fuck," she muttered.

"At least it only has one direction," Mike said. "Up."

"Maybe the real lobby is up there." Lily jogged up the steps. "I'd be far happier away from the street, anyway. There will be far fewer surprises that way."

The two of them climbed, but Mike started appearing on each landing ahead of her. At first, he was just waiting with his eyes turned to the next landing. Soon, he was striking goofy poses for her, his outfits shifting and changing to make it look like he was posing for magazine covers.

Lily laughed at Mike's antics and playfully swatted at him. After several more floors, he linked arms with her and they climbed together.

"What kind of a building doesn't have doors on each floor?" Mike asked. "Or at least one every few floors?"

"One with secrets," she said. "Maybe we have to say the secret password or something."

"What would the password be for a place like this? Captain Morgan?"

"Don't be so crass. It's probably something classy, like 'I want to see some mommy milkers on the beach.'"

"Mmmhmm, mmmhmm." Mike nodded his approval. "Out of curiosity, what classifies them as mommy milkers anyway? Do they have to produce milk, or can they just be mommy milkers in spirit?"

"I imagine it's spiritual," Lily replied. "You simply can't have a massive pair of hooters. It doesn't count."

"Is it a willingness to share, then?" Mike paused in the stairwell and turned to face her. "You've got to have big hooters and share them with somebody?"

"They don't have to be big," Lily replied, fondling her own breasts. "I'm sure there's a lower limit, though. It's like fine dining, you know. It's all about how your meal is plated."

"Plate it, then." Mike leaned against the railing. "Show me what you've got."

"Here?" she replied.

He shrugged. "You don't have to. But I haven't seen a single camera. Have you?"

She shook her head. "This stairwell is essentially empty."

"It could have a pair of bare tits in it." Mike grinned. "Unless you're scared."

Lily rolled her eyes. "You should know better than that," she replied, then yanked her top down. "What do you think?"

Mike nodded his approval. "I like the heart-shaped nipples."

"Figured you would approve." She grabbed the bottom of each breast and gave it a squeeze. "They're large and I'm willing to share, you know."

"Maybe I want more than that." Mike licked his lips and stepped forward.

"Well this is all you're getting," she replied. "To start with," she added with a smirk.

Mike stepped forward and groped her breasts. Grinning lewdly, he pressed them together and buried his face between them.

"This is better than therapy." His voice was muffled. "Your subconscious thanks you."

"Why should my subconscious have all the fun?" Lily pinned Mike's head between her boobs and laughed. "C'mon. Get to sucking."

"Ma'am," was all he managed before he nibbled and sucked on the tender flesh along the inside of her breasts. Lily sighed, enjoying the attention. She decided to really just go with it and not process what might actually be happening.

Mike growled and grabbed her ass, then pressed her up against the railing. Lily responded by grinding her pelvis against his, satisfied at the rigid cock now bulging beneath his dress shorts.

"You know, this really isn't the time or place," she declared. "A little titty therapy can be useful, but--"

Mike lifted his head and smirked. "Oh, I'm not done with you," he replied, then undid the zipper on his shorts. "A girl who shows you her tits in a stairwell only wants one thing."

"Ice cream? A beach trip? A Disney movie that isn't a remake?"

Lily laughed as Mike spun her around and bent her over the rail. He yanked the fabric of her skirt up and teased her with just the tip of his cock.

"Did you know you're literally steaming back here? It's quite the visual."

Lily was unable to reply as he shoved his cock inside her, her unspoken words transforming into a prolonged groan of delight. She held onto the railing for dear life as Mike pounded her from behind, the length of him filling her up.

"Fuck, you're so big," she whispered.

"I bet you tell that to all your hallucinations." He slapped her ass, eliciting a yelp. "Arch that back!"

"Yes, sir!" Lily moaned as he continued to fuck her from behind. His cock thickened inside of her as his bulging member stretched her wide. Mike's breathing was frantic as he raced toward orgasm.

At some point, he pulled too hard on her and she actually slid away from the railing. In her haste to adjust her grip, she sank too low and was pushed forward by Mike's hips, her head passing between the rails and getting lodged there.

"Help me, step Caretaker, I'm stuck!"

Mike laughed, which turned into a growl as he grabbed onto her hips and pumped himself inside of her. When he came, she did too, her arms bending the metal railing that overlooked the stairwell. Mike slapped her ass a couple more times for good measure, then stepped away from her.

"You're still steaming," he said. "But now you're leaking, too."

"I feel bad for the poor asshole who has to mop the stairs because of it." Sighing, Lily pulled her head out from between the rails and pulled up her top. "That was...surprisingly satisfying," she said.

"The brain is the largest erogenous zone." Mike grinned and looked up the stairs. "C'mon. Let's get out of this stupid place."

In full agreement, Lily adjusted her clothes and followed him up the stairs. A few flights later, they reached a bright blue door that opened into the lobby of the building. Walking past the messy espresso machine, they stepped out into the light of day and headed off toward the beach.

It was almost an hour later when Lily was in the middle of tracking the man in the Panama hat when she realized what had happened. "Fuck!" she yelled, spinning on her heels and running back toward the strange building.

"Why are we running?" asked Mike.

"You know why," she growled. She didn't know if the spell had been inlaid in the stairwell, or perhaps if the coffee had been poisoned. "How many floors did that building have?"

"From the outside? Maybe five," said Mike.

"How many were in that stairwell?" she asked.

Mike winced. "Way more than five," he replied. "And we came out on the same floor we left."

"Magical redirection," she replied. "I forgot why we went there. That's not simple magic, not if it affected me."

"So how do we get in?" he asked.

Lily surveyed the area and took a detour down a road where the building had a fire escape. Scrambling up the brick with clawed hands, she made it to the fire escape and climbed to the roof. From there, she was able to identify the structure she wanted a few blocks over.

Her legs and outfit changed color to match the blue sky above, and the succubus threw herself across the gap between buildings. Anyone looking up might catch a brief glimpse of her, but in her experience, people didn't randomly look up that often, not when there were more interesting things on the ground.

When they were back at the mysterious building, Lily attempted to leap across the gap, only to watch it widen beneath her. Unfurling her wings, she powered through the strange spell trying to keep her out and came to a rolling stop across the graveled roof.

"Witches," she growled, getting to her feet. "This place has some serious spellwork on it."

"That doesn't bode well," Mike replied. "You should tell Lala."

Lily frowned, then pulled out her phone and saw that the signal was gone. "You should have thought of that two minutes ago," she replied.

"I should have," he said. "But since I'm really just an extension of you, then--"

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. If she got off the roof to make the call, there was a chance that whoever had cast the spell would know that it had been breached. A nastier version could be put in place, or perhaps she would get lost and forget what she was doing again.

Sinking her fingers into the metallic security door, Lily ripped it free of the hinges and tossed it to the side as she entered another stairwell. This one only descended a single flight, and she used her tail to open this one by sliding it under the door and yanking the latch on the other side.

"Be careful," Mike said as she entered the structure. Based on the geometry of the building, Lily was somewhere in the middle. She stood in a long corridor punctuated by locked doors on each side. Forcing one open, she saw that it was empty.

"Shell companies," she muttered under her breath. Based on what Eulalie had shared, there was a computer somewhere in this building.

By the time she was back out in the hallway again, she felt reality shift and warp around her as a massive spell activated. The hallway she had been inside of suddenly looked far longer than it had before.

"Some sort of spatial effect," Mike said as he looked back the way they had come. "Exit is gone."

"They've taken down the Keep Out sign," Lily replied. "Now the place is a trap."

"Except they're trapped in here with us." Mike smirked and punched one fist into his palm. "Let's beat some ass."

"We need to find some ass before we can beat it." Lily moved to the next door and kicked it down. This room was similar to the first, only it had an empty trashcan inside.

The contents of each room rarely offered more than a random chair or trash can, though one did have a poster with the hanging kitty inside. By the time Lily made it to the end of the hallway, she had broken into nearly twenty offices. Now, she was presented with the choice of going right or left. Both directions eventually terminated in another turn as the hallways turned back in toward the center of the building.

"Flip a coin?" Mike suggested.

"Let's go left." Lily proceeded down the hallway, pausing to knock down a couple of doors. She had just slammed one open when Mike put his hand on her arm and squeezed.

"Shhh," he said. "I heard something."

Lily cocked her head and listened, but whatever Mike heard wasn't making noise anymore.

"It freaks me out when you do that," said Lily. "How does an extension of my mind see or hear shit that I don't?"

"I'm a physical manifestation of your subconscious," Mike replied. "Instead of getting a bad case of the willies, you're being told what your brain just barely picked up. Isn't that better?"

"Maybe," Lily admitted. "But it's still annoying."

"You didn't think I was annoying in the stairwell."

Lily opened her mouth to reply, but Mike pressed his hand against her lips and turned to look down the hall. This time, she heard a heavy thud, followed by the sound of bristles being dragged against something solid. It made Lily think of someone dragging a massive paintbrush along drywall.

"That's an awfully specific image," Mike muttered, reading her thoughts.

"Gee, I'm sorry my imagination didn't provide me with a better fitting alternative," she snapped. "Maybe they hired some poor bastard to paint the place and he got stuck here a week ago, did you ever think of that?"

"Don't be mad at me," Mike replied. "We haven't even been here that long, and seriously doubt we're in any danger."

At the end of the hallway, a massive figure stepped around the corner. Nearly eight feet tall and completely naked, the minotaur stared at the two of them and snorted loudly through its nose. Its shaggy head brushed against the corner, causing that odd shushing sound again.

"Okay, I don't think either of us expected--" Mike was cut off when the minotaur roared and charged forward, lowering its head to level a pair of sharpened horns at Lily.

The beast was unusually fast. When Lily dodged to the side at the last moment, the minotaur twisted its head and tore a massive gouge into the wall as it tried to skewer her. If she had been human, the attack would have killed her right there.

Luckily, she was far faster than a human, and far more limber. She twisted and shrank to avoid taking the hit, then stabbed the minotaur several times with her tail, injecting the beast with sleeping venom.

Lily leapt back from the minotaur and smirked. "You're lucky I'm short on time," she told it. "Otherwise, I'd fire up the grill and--"

The minotaur took a swing at her, which she barely dodged. This opened her up for a charge, and she was promptly gored as the minotaur sprinted forward, snorting wildly as it carried her down the hall and smashed her through the wall at the end. Cursing loudly, Lily stabbed the thing over and over again, puzzled why it hadn't fallen asleep yet.

After being plowed through three different office walls, Lily grabbed the beast by the horns and slid her torso off, then spiked her tail into the carpet and slid beneath the beast. The minotaur slammed through another wall by the time Lily was up and running the other way.

"Why isn't it going down?" Mike asked as he jogged ahead of her.

"I don't fucking know!" Lily looked back over her shoulder to see the minotaur shaking drywall off of its head. "And who the fuck sticks a minotaur in an office building?"

"This place sucks."

Lily pivoted in one of the offices and opened the door into a clean hallway. The minotaur smashed through the office two doors down, which gave her enough time to make a run for it.

"When was the last time your venom didn't work?" asked Mike.

"Against a mortal creature? Can't remember right now." Lily came to a corner and went around it, then leapt into the air and used her arms and legs to spider crawl toward the ceiling.

The minotaur ran beneath her, oblivious to its prey. She watched the beast charge down the hallway before vanishing around another corner.

"Dumb cow," she muttered before dropping down onto the floor. "I've never thought of Asterion as particularly bright, but I would think even he would have wondered where I went."

Mike leaned against a nearby wall, his chin in his hand while he was deep in thought. "That also begs the question why there's even a minotaur here in the first place. With so many protections to keep you out, why not just hire someone with a gun to shoot intruders. As for the minotaur, it clearly isn't normal, which means they were expecting magical interference."

"Witches doing witch things," Lily replied. "This place isn't much different than that data center."

"Huh. You think they're related?"

"If so, then I've probably tripped an alarm or something."

"Shit. So now we've potentially got witches descending on us?" Mike shivered. "Maybe they're good witches?"

"Oh, sure. Good witches who run shell companies and employ--" A fist burst through the wall and grabbed Lily by the neck. The minotaur yanked her through, cracking the studs as her bones creaked and snapped to fit through the gap. The beast contemplated her for a moment before tossing her body onto the ground and trampling her.

"Hey, hey!" Mike was now holding a road flare, of all things. "Minotaurs can only pick up movement, hold still!"

"That's dinosaurs, you ass!" Lily coughed dust from her lungs and used her wings as shields to protect herself from impact. "Why are you making stupid movie references right now?"

"Levity?" Mike threw the road flare, which bounced harmlessly off the minotaur's head. "Curses, my one weakness! That thing is real and I'm not!"

Growling, Lily snagged a hoof and yanked it violently to one side, then kicked the minotaur in the balls. The beast didn't even grunt, but it did lean down and punch at her so hard that its fist passed through the thin carpet and chipped the concrete beneath.

Lily bit down on the wrist by her head, her fangs sinking deep as the minotaur yanked his hand away, pulling her into the air. She spat out a mouthful of hair and dodged to the side to avoid the next blow.

"C'mon, you want to fight?" Fire crackled along her fingertips as skin cracked and peeled to reveal the true demon beneath.

Unphased, the minotaur grabbed one of her wings and her left leg, then lifted her up and gored her through the next wall.

"Brute strength is your only move, isn't it?" Lily clawed at the creature's face, her thumbs digging into the minotaur's eyes. The minotaur tried to push her away, but she wrapped her tail and legs around its waist.

"Your pullout game isn't strong enough!" she declared, then promptly gouged the creature's eyes out.

Expecting a roar of pain, she was fully unprepared for the fist that smashed into her face. Desperate to disentangle herself, she took several punches from the minotaur before able to back away. It sniffed the air and turned in her direction, its eye sockets just empty holes.

"Wait a second," Lily muttered to herself as the thing charged. Leaping straight up, she sank her claws into the ceiling and wrapped her tail around the minotaur's neck in an attempt to strangle it. The beast grabbed her tail and yanked her off the ceiling. Grunting with effort, Lily sprouted razor-blade like fins all along her tail and yanked.

The minotaur reeled her in and struck again. Lily blocked the blow and tightened the noose of her tail, the scales now vibrating in an attempt to bite through all that fur. Minotaur hair fell to the ground in clumps as the two continued to fight. It was only when Mike grabbed the tip of Lily's tail with one hand and a door frame in the other that she got enough leverage to properly pull.

With the crackling sound of bone being sheared, the minotaur's head popped off. The body stumbled around, swinging blindly before crashing to the floor.

"What the absolute fuck!" Mike gave the head a kick. Naturally, it didn't move. "That was way harder than it should have been."

"Agreed." Lily knelt to inspect the corpse. She immediately noticed the lack of blood or gore. Grabbing the minotaur's head, she saw that the interior had the dull grey color of muscles that hadn't been supplied fresh blood or oxygen for some time.

"Nasty." Mike knelt beside her. "What are we thinking? Undead? Construct? Vampire minotaur?" He dropped his voice. "Don't tell Dana if it's the last one."

"I'm not entirely sure," Lily replied, then sniffed the air. After a bit of prodding, she tossed the head aside. "I'm fairly certain the thing didn't have a soul, though."

"So it was built?" Mike asked.

"Too organic for that. I'm guessing some sort of undead, powered by magic." Lily's skin knitted itself back together as her human form reasserted itself. "A soulless minotaur powered by magic and left to guard an empty office building."

"It can't be completely empty," Mike replied. "Why go through all the trouble of guarding nothing?"

"Hmm." Lily reached into her core and pulled out her cellphone. "I think it's time to call Lala and let her know...shit."

"Did it get broken?" Mike asked.

"Still no signal." Lily held up the phone and frowned. "The place is clearly warded. C'mon. Let's go find a window we can smash or something."

The two of them left the corpse behind and moved through the building once more. Though they stopped to search the rooms, they found nothing. Worse still, after over an hour of travel, they still hadn't found the exit, or any semblance of an exterior wall. At some point, Lily took the minotaur's approach to interior redecorating and started smashing through walls. She eventually turned around to look back at the tunnel she had created and it was over a mile long.

"What do you think?" Mike asked. "It's got to be some sort of spatial rift."

Lily scowled. "I wonder if it's not something worse than that. This place looks like a maze, and even had a guardian. But what if it's not a maze at all?"

"What else would it be?" Mike asked.

Lily scowled. "A trap," she said. "One that will be very difficult to escape from."

In the distance, they heard the roar of a minotaur. A second roar sounded from much farther away.

"This is why I hate white collar jobs," Lily groaned as she knelt down and started tearing up the carpet.

"What's the plan?" Mike asked.

"No trap is one-size-fits-all," Lily replied, her tail pounding at the concrete. "I'm not about to let some bargain bin backrooms eat me alive."

"That's my girl." Mike patted Lily on the butt. He looked down the long, busted hallway and frowned when a shaggy figure appeared in the distance. "I hope the others are having a better time than we are."

"Can't believe witches ruined my trip to the beach," Lily grumbled as she stood and braced herself for the minotaur charging her way.

Ingrid was at least an hour from anywhere when the air conditioning in her rental car went out. Her immediate reaction was suspicion as she glared over at the doll strapped into an infant's child seat in the passenger side.

"That had better not be you," she growled.

What if it is? Jenny replied.

The mage stared out at the dusty terrain. The horizon shimmered with heat, broken up only by the occasional sagebrush.

"I'll roll down the window and send you to live out your cowboy dreams," Ingrid said.

Yeehaw, Jenny replied.

"I'm not joking." Ingrid pressed the power window button and the air in the car shifted dramatically as the window shifted downward. "If you're lucky, I'll give Mike a zip code in which to find you."

Jenny cackled. You're fun. It's not me, though. You let me pick the music.

In an interesting twist, Jenny had demanded that they listen to classical music. For whatever reason, the doll really seemed to enjoy concertinas that were heavy on the violin.

"I don't suppose you could fix it," Ingrid suggested.

Jenny cackled again, but went silent. About five miles later, she spoke. I don't know how any of it works, she admitted.

Ingrid had rolled down the back windows to circulate the air by then. It was almost ninety-nine degrees in whatever part of Buttfuck, Texas they were currently driving through. Her little sidequest was taking her over an hour away from any semblance of civilization, otherwise Eulalie would have just deposited her directly at their destination.

"When we get home, we'll add teaching a cursed spirit how air conditioning systems work to the to-do list." Ingrid let out a sigh and rolled down the front windows of the car. "Do you want me to pull the cover down on your bassinet?"

Eat my ass, was Jenny's response. After a long pause, the ghost added I like seeing new places.

"Fair." Ingrid turned up the stereo to drown out the sound of wind as the two of them continued to their destination. The road had long ago turned into some amalgamation of asphalt and dirt. Ingrid's main concern was getting a flat tire from a massive pothole or, gods forbid, getting stuck in the sand.

Honestly, there was a good chance Jenny could help with the latter. Ingrid didn't fancy kneeling on the hot ground to jack the car up.

The first sign of their destination was a road with a cattle baffle surrounded by metal fencing. In the distance, cows could be seen grazing on grass. As Ingrid drove along the one lane dirt road, she double checked her GPS to make sure she was headed in the right direction.

Eulalie's location was just a GPS coordinate, one that had yielded no data via satellite. The pictures had looked like the middle of nowhere, which had suspiciously not included any trace of the fence she had driven past or the road she was on.

Upon cresting a hill, Ingrid found herself looking at a small villa in the distance, the air so shimmering hot that it wouldn't be a stretch to pretend it was just a hallucination. However, the structure didn't fade as she drew closer, the image eventually resolving into what looked like a small ranch.

"That definitely wasn't on the satellite imagery," Ingrid said. Near the home, a small cluster of goats was busy munching some weeds, and a pair of trucks were parked in the driveway. Whoever owned the place didn't seem in a hurry to chase her off. A potential concern was that whoever lived out here might shoot first and ask questions later.

Ingrid held a wand in her left hand, generating a magical barrier in front of the windshield just in case someone tried to use her for target practice. She wasn't too concerned yet. If things got hot, she'd just let Jenny at them.

As she neared the home, she honked the horn to alert the owner that someone was in front of their house and waited. She didn't want to surprise anyone.

After a few minutes, she got out of her car just as the front door opened. An older man in jeans and a button down shirt gave her a wave. True to form, he was also wearing a large, white cowboy hat.

"Hi!" she called out as she got out of the car. "Sorry to disturb you, my phone lost battery and I think I'm really lost."

The man didn't respond at first. After an incredibly long moment, he waved for Ingrid to approach and watched as she retrieved her travel bag from the car, pausing just long enough for Jenny to crawl inside.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you," she said as she walked onto the man's porch. "My AC blew a few miles back, and it is brutally hot out."

The stranger snorted. "I reckon," he replied. In Texas, this meant 'I agree with you completely, driving around in America's crotch truly is a miserable experience', but words were one of the only things not big in Texas.

"If I could just get directions back to Highway 180, that would be fantastic," she said, laying on the charm. "I wouldn't say no to a bathroom and maybe some water."

"You from out of town?" he asked.

"East coast," Ingried replied, then held out her hand. "My name is Ingrid. What's yours?"

"Bruce."

"This is a nice place you've got here," she said, turning to gesture at the house. When she looked back, Bruce had already stepped into his home and was waiting for her to follow.

'In for a penny, in for a pound,' she thought as she clutched the rod she still had concealed in her palm. It was a simple bit of prestidigitation that would never work if anyone was watching her from behind.

She pulled the door shut behind her and let out a sigh of relief as cold air pressed against her damp body. She had managed to sweat through her blouse in a most unflattering manner. Fanning at her face, she followed Bruce through his front room to the kitchen where he had a counter with a trio of red, glossy stools that looked like they had been lifted straight from a 50's diner.

"Water?"

"Please." Ingrid sat at the counter and set her bag on the stool next to her. "I was starting to think I might need to turn around."

"Mmm hmm." Bruce turned his back to grab some ice from the freezer and put it in a glass. Ingrid couldn't help but notice the revolver on the man's belt.

"I hope I didn't cause any problems driving onto your road," she continued. "There wasn't a gate or anything, so I figured if I drove along it, I'd end up somewhere."

"You certainly have." Bruce handed her a glass of water and set a second one next to it.

"Oh, thanks," Ingrid replied. "I only need one." She lifted the glass to her lips.

"That's for your partner," Bruce said.

"My...partner?" Ingrid felt her pulse quicken.

"Are they sneaking around back while you keep me distracted?" Bruce's eyes were suddenly deathly serious.

"I swear, it's just me," she said, reaching for her bag.

"I didn't think mages of the Order went anywhere without a knight," Bruce continued. "But we'll know soon enough. My partner is watching from the second floor. A bullet to the leg would be mighty inconvenient."

"I..." Ingrid licked her lips and studied Bruce. Whoever this man was, he knew about the Order. If he was involved with the auction in any way, then it was likely that he knew even more than that. Pleading ignorance wasn't going to buy her anything but bad will. "It really is just me," she said. "A former mage of the Order. I'm semi-retired."

"Really?" Bruce scrutinized her. "What does semi-retired even mean?"

"She's telling the truth," said a man's voice. A bald, black man wearing a button down flannel shirt and jeans came around the corner of the kitchen holding a rifle. "If anyone is sneaking up on the place, they're too good for these old eyes."

Bruce scowled at the newcomer. "You gave up pretty quick."

"Pshhh." The bald man waved Bruce off. He studied Ingrid for a minute and grinned. "You'll have to excuse my husband. He can be a real stick in the mud."

Ingrid looked back and forth between the odd couple, then nodded. "You'll have to excuse me if I'm suddenly suspicious of the sudden tone shift."

"Ha!" The bald man held out his hand. "My name is Anthony."

"Ingrid."

"A pleasure, a real...ah, don't be a grump, Brucey!" Anthony pouted as Bruce rolled his eyes. "If this was an official Order operation, no amount of guns would have done us any good."

"Is it just the two of you?" Ingrid asked.

Anthony nodded. "Yep. Well, we have a couple of farm hands who live in the guest house out back and...Bruce!"

The older cowpoke muttered something about heroes and took the spare glass of water for himself, then left the kitchen.

"Sorry, sorry. Would you look at you? An actual mage of the Order. In. My. House!" Anthony laughed and slapped the counter. "Okay, so what did I do wrong? Or is it something else? Has there been a cryptid sighting? I honestly have no idea what those lights in the sky are, but if you know, I will pay handsomely."

"Wait, I..." Ingrid blinked in astonishment. "What lights? No, don't tell me, I don't want to know."

"Have you ever met Bigfoot?" Anthony leaned on the counter with his elbows, staring at her with a dreamy grin. "I've got a video in my collection where he's stumbling around in the woods, either drunk off his ass or high on shrooms. It's one of my favorites, I laugh every time I watch it."

"I haven't," Ingrid admitted. "But, if I'm being honest, I wouldn't mind seeing it."

Anthony clapped his hands together and moved around the counter. "You're in for a treat! But before I show you anything, we really should discuss the real reason you're out here. The last thing I want is to have some of the...rarer items in my collection confiscated."

"Your collection?" Ingrid asked, following the strange man.

"Oh, honey, I am very well known in certain circles." Anthony walked backward toward the nearest fireplace. "In fact, some people know me as the Collector."

Ingrid's pulse began to quicken.

"Of official Order memorabilia!" Anthony continued, obviously going for dramatic effect. "When I was a little boy, my family got pulled into an Order operation. I got to see a Knight and a mage in action."

"Oh?" Ingrid made sure to grab her backpack. "What happened?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me what you're looking for." Anthony grinned. "Let's trade secrets."

"Well..." Ingrid scrunched up her face, not entirely certain what to make of the man. He was clearly excited to see her, which didn't vibe with who they were trying to track down. Again, she opted for honesty. "Something was purchased at auction recently, and we have been tasked with tracking down the buyer."

"Oh, how salacious!" Anthony tapped on one of the stones on the fireplace and it slid to the side to reveal a keypad. "Maybe I bought the thing that you're looking for."

"Perhaps," Ingrid agreed, but she had doubts.

"Now you said we," Anthony continued as he typed in a code. "I thought it was just you out here."

"The rest of the team is hunting elsewhere," she said. "Multiple leads."

"It can be like that." Anthony finished typing in his code and a secret door clicked open behind him. "Well, c'mon. Let's see if I have it."

"You're being surprisingly forthright about this," Ingrid said. "Forgive me if I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Please. This is like an early Christmas treat for me," Anthony said as he led Ingrid into a room with no windows. All along the walls were various Order memorabilia, some of it which she recognized, others which she didn't. The collection had been carefully curated and professionally displayed, each piece labeled with either a card or a plaque.

"How the hell did you acquire all of this?" she asked.

Anthony grinned. "I worked for big oil for a very long time," he said. "Brucie's family owns numerous oil fields. He's 2nd generation. We don't have kids for obvious reasons, which means we have plenty of money to spend on stuff like this."

"I see." Ingrid looked around the room, suddenly aware that if Anthony had bought a shoggoth at auction, this place was about to become even more interesting. "I'm guessing you couldn't adopt them."

"Huh?" Anthony frowned in confusion. "Adopt who?"

"Kids," said Ingrid. "Since you're both men."

The man laughed. "Ha! We have money, honey. If we wanted kids, we could have paid somebody very good money to have one for us, or even just raise a child out here where the world can't judge a damned thing."

"Then what's the obvious reason?" she asked, almost dreading the answer.

"Brucie refuses to leave Texas." Anthony shook his head. "I keep telling the man we could retire by the beach or anywhere in the world, but he wants to live in the middle of Yeehaw, Nowhere. I couldn't do that to a child. Relationships are about compromises, you know. He gets to live here. I get to spend his money on magical knicknacks."

Ingrid actually laughed. "What a trade," she said.

"Here, come look at this." Anthony moved to a display case with a familiar coat inside. "I've only seen one of these at auction. Belonged to a mage who lost it in the early nineties during a werewolf attack. I debated leaving the bloodstains on the collar, but decided it was too unsanitary."

"And you wouldn't know whose blood it was," Ingrid added. "Werewolf blood is bad news."

"Have you ever met one?" he asked.

Ingrid nodded. "I wasn't on field assignments for very long, but I was an up and comer. Did you find all the pockets on this thing?"

"Honey, I've fucked in that thing." Anthony smirked. "Even got Brucie to wear the sword for me."

"You have a Knight's sword?"

Anthony nodded. "Bought it off some hooligan last year who kept pretending it was a lightsaber at parties. I paid entirely too much for it, but I'm far happier with it here than in someone else's hands."

They slowly crossed the room, Anthony pausing to share stories about the things he had collected. The man had clearly been doing this for decades, and there were a few items locked behind bulletproof glass that even Ingrid was surprised to see. One was a gun etched with religious symbols, capable of harming demons with holy water bullets. Another was a small pocket watch that immediately reminded her of Brother Cyrus. Lost in thought, she didn't hear Anthony's question.

"Honey, you've got history with that thing, don't you?" He knelt down by her side to study it.

"I knew somebody who had one," she replied. "He, uh, died recently."

"How recently?" asked Anthony. "I may have something of his, depending on--"

"There weren't any remains," she added. "It was a big fire."

"Wow." Anthong scratched at his chin. "Was he one of the newer guys or the old guard?"

"Old guard," she replied. "Called out of retirement."

"What a shame." Anthony shook his head. "The stories he could have told us..."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that a lot." Ingrid looked back at the pocket watch. "Wish I could just call him up and ask questions when I have them."

"Is he why you retired?" Anthony asked, his voice suddenly soft.

"Sort of. Operation went bad enough that I started having doubts about the organization," she admitted. "Not that I mean to take away from what you've collected."

"No offense taken. I am well aware that today's Order is...lacking." The man frowned. "If you don't mind me asking, what operation was it?"

Ingrid wasn't about to give away secrets that weren't hers to share, no matter how much she suddenly liked this man. "It was related to Maui," she said.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" Anthony ran to the door of his secret vault. "YOU HEAR THAT, BRUCIE?!? MAUI WAS AN ORDER OP!"

"Stop yelling at me, you pompous ass," Bruce shouted from somewhere else in the house. "I always agreed with you!"

"Tell me everything!" Anthony said as he pulled Ingrid to a nearby chair. "That whole viral Godzilla movie campaign was total bullshit. I could smell it through my television."

"Um...I can't really share the details," Ingrid replied. "There are some things bigger than the Order, and we ended up caught between a couple of them."

"Alright, alright, I get it." Anthony's eyes were glittering like a caffeinated child who had just been handed a puppy. "I heard there were skeletons!"

"There were." There was video footage of it, all hotly contested. Eulalie and the Order had culled most information coming out of Hawaii, but nobody was perfect and some had made it to the fringe message boards.

"How about the merfolk? I know about them," Anthony added. "I have an old file about their settlement. Brucie and I tried to visit them a couple of times, but always got chased off by Order personnel pretending to be an environmental watchdog group."

"They were there, too."

"Ooh, girl, you're teasing me. If I named a price, would you sell me some information?"

"I..." Ingrid winced. "I need to think on that."

"Playing hard to get, I love it." Anthony laughed. "I've bent your ear enough. I haven't even unboxed my auction winnings yet. They came just yesterday and Brucie was smoking a hog. God knows that man knows how to smoke meat. He should be teaching classes on it."

"Do you have any leftovers?" Ingrid asked, then cringed. What the hell kind of question was that?

"Leftovers for days. Maybe I'll make you a to-go bag in exchange for..." Anthony licked his lips. "What that big creature in the ocean was."

"I'll think about it." Ingrid knew better than to accept the first offer. On the odd chance the man knew something useful, that was far more important than smoked meat.

Near the back of the room was a wooden crate set up on a folding table. Ingrid stayed well back as the man used a crowbar to pop the nails off, more than a little curious what Anthony had purchased.

When the crate was cracked open to reveal a knight's sword, Ingrid wasn't surprised, but she was disappointed.

"Paid almost two hundred million for this baby," Anthony said as he delicately lifted it from the box. "Brucie got real mad when he found out and didn't let me bid on the other one." The man reached into the crate again and felt around in the packing material before pulling out the other blade from the auction. "But that's just because he wanted to surprise me for our anniversary."

"You guys paid over three hundred million on a couple of Order swords." Ingrid shook her head. "What are you gonna do with three of them?"

Anthony giggled. "I'll pick the best for display purposes. Maybe carry one around on my belt and use it. The other? Well, that's between me and my knight in shining armor."

"You've got an expensive kink," Ingrid muttered.

"I like to think I'm romantic." Anthony stared at the blades and his face fell with sudden realization. "These...aren't the things you're trying to track down, are they?"

Ingrid smiled softly at him. "They are not."

Visible relief blossomed on the man's face. "You're not mad that I'm going to keep them, are you?"

"Semi-retired, remember?" Ingrid looked around the room at the small museum that had been created. "If I'm being honest, I think they're probably in really good hands with you. You respect them as a piece of history."

"One I'd like to share with others someday," Anthony replied. "But unless the veil falls before I die, this'll just have to be a secret."

"The veil?"

Anthony nodded. "The one Merlin cast on the world, separating magic from the mundane after King Arthur's death."

"Right." Ingrid realized that when she was young, she had never once questioned why Merlin had done what he did. Her anger at the loss of her family had been too extreme. "You think it'll fall?"

"After what happened in Maui? I do." Anthony set the swords back into the box and led Ingrid over to a minibar. "Scotch?"

"No thanks," she replied.

"Suit yourself." The man spoke as he poured himself a drink. "Some people call it Merlin's Veil, or even the Great Divide. It was never meant to be a permanent solution, you know. Either the magical world would die off completely, or the mortal one would. Seeing as how neither has happened, you can think of it like a dam that's been slowly building up pressure over the years."

"I'm not sure I see it the same way," said Ingrid. "With recent technological advances, we should expect to see more unexplained magical activity, not less. Stories of the mysterious are on the decline."

"And that's the pressure I'm speaking of." Anthony handed her the scotch she had declined and clinked his glass to hers. "Merlin's Veil has to work so much harder to accomplish the same thing it used to. Random villagers speaking of a monster in the woods? Nobody listens. Video evidence of the Jersey Devil? Much harder to filter."

"We lost track of him a couple years back, actually." Ingrid sipped at the scotch out of habit, then choked when she heard Jenny giggle in the back of her head.

"The good stuff is smooth, but it can be an acquired taste." Misunderstanding Ingrid's reaction, Anthony reached over to pat her on the back. While doing so, he held out his glass towards his collection. "These are all artifacts of a very different time, one that you get to stand at the head of."

"Semi-retired, remember?" Ingrid rasped. The inside of her sinuses felt like they had melted.

"Even retired, you don't leave a lifestyle like this. It'll always come for you." Anthony turned to her with a grin. "The men and women who held these objects were legends, even if their names weren't written down in the history books. Some day, I hope those stories get to be told. Maybe you'll be the one to do it."

"Doubt it." Ingrid set down her scotch. "I'm not much of a storyteller."

"Then what are you?"

She shrugged. "I wish I knew," she replied. "The things I've seen, the people I've met...it's a lot like staring into the night sky and realizing just how small and worthless you are."

"But you are a mage." Anthony shook his head in disappointment, then held his glass in one palm like it was a magical implement. "You get to feel magic burning through your veins, bending the universe to your will!"

Ingrid chuckled. "You've romanticised it a bit. As a mage, I'm trained to use magical implements. I myself don't really have magic and can't just cast spells."

"Why not?"

"For the same reason you can't stick bullets in your mouth and fire them out your ass."

Anthony cackled. "Girl, you are fun." He gazed wistfully at his glass as if lost in thought. "I was going to make some comment about the real magic being inside you or something, but you made me forget what I was going to say."

Ingrid's eyes darted across the displays and she let out a sigh. "I don't even have access to stuff like this any more," she said. "Some parts of your collection are only for more experienced mages, so I never got a chance to use them."

"So I'm guessing I can't get you to show me how that watch works." Anthony gestured toward the case with the timepiece. "I heard they let you watch time in reverse."

"And make you puke," she added. "In theory, I could use them, but it won't be pretty." There was a blasting rod in one of the cases that had been discontinued because the explosive bolts bounced off of reflective surfaces as if they were mirrors. Many a mage had lost life or limb to spells they had cast this way.

"Maybe some other time then." Anthony sipped his drink and paused. "Out of curiosity, which auction item were you looking for?"

"Hmm?" Ingrid looked away from the rod. "I'm not sure I should say."

"But I might be able to tell you who bought it." The man grinned.

"What's your price?" she asked.

"For this, I'm just happy to be in the action. You get to be Batman, and I'll be your Alfred." He lowered his voice. "Just don't let Brucie know. He gets jealous when I roleplay with others."

"I agree on the condition that you keep my visit private," she replied. "If I find out you squealed to someone else, I'll report this place to the Order."

Anthony put a hand to his chest and acted shocked. "You wouldn't!"

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I would."

"Then it's a bargain." Anthony sipped the last of his scotch. "Should we sign our contract in blood or will a handshake suffice?"

"I'm trying to keep all my blood on the inside these days," Ingrid said and took the man's hand. "So this'll do."

"Okay, boss bitch, spill."

Ingrid smiled at the nickname. Anthony was clearly Aurora's kindred spirit. "The last auction of the night," she said. "We want to know who purchased the--"

"Shhh!" Anthony put a finger to Ingrid's lips. "I don't even want you to say it out loud."

When the man retracted his hand, Ingrid continued. "You afraid that...they will notice us?" She pointed up for emphasis.

"Oh, I'm not afraid of them," Anthony replied. "Boogiemen living between worlds want nothing to do with me. But I am afraid of her."

"Her who?"

Anthony paused for a moment and chewed at his lip, then walked over to a nearby couch and patted the seat for Ingrid to join him. When she did, he spoke. "Many years ago, I was participating in an auction for that watch you were looking at. I ended up losing, and hard. The guy who bought it was also from an oil family, but middle-eastern, if you catch my drift."

"There's always a bigger fish," Ingrid added.

The man grinned. "Someone who can build skyscrapers with daddy's pocket money. This man tacked a zero onto my highest bid. Anyway, that's the prologue to my story. This man wasn't collecting Order specific items, but magical ones. The watch has a unique enchantment on it that isn't replicable. The technique to create them has been lost to time, which is rather poetic considering the nature of the watch and its enchantment."

"Uh huh." Ingrid smiled, waiting patiently for Anthony to get to the point. Bruce appeared in the doorway of the room carrying a tray of sandwiches.

"In case you all are hungry," he said, then sat the tray quietly on a table nearby before leaving.

"He's a peach." Anthony's eyes lingered on Bruce as he left. "Where was I?"

"Magic watches, forgotten techniques."

"Ah, right. Well, as you know, power corrupts. This bastard had more money than he knew what to do with, and it went to his head. Now you have to understand that the auction itself caters to those with money, but there are a few simple rules that everyone must follow. If you bid, you pay. Otherwise, you're banned for life. You also don't mess with other people's bids."

"How would you do that?"

"By messing with the auction itself. For example, maybe you have someone cut communications to the proxy bidders to keep the heavy hitters out. Or maybe you poison someone at the beginning of the night so that they're puking their guts out instead of bidding against you. Anything that might prevent someone from throwing money at the problem and driving up the price."

"What's the penalty for that?"

"Aside from pissing off a bunch of billionaires?" Anthony smirked. "Usually, you get banned and then make the newsletter. Your name and photograph get sent out to everybody so that they know you're a troublemaker."

Ingrid chewed at her lip, suddenly wondering if her name and face might end up on a newsletter because of what had happened at the data facility. After all, someone had sent a demon after her. "Any other rules?"

"Those are the big ones. Really, the main idea is that everybody allowed to attend gets to throw as much money as they want at the auction house. On occasion, maybe some jilted billionaire decides to steal an item before delivery, or, on one occasion, damage it. That man didn't live out the night." Anthony paused to take a bite of a sandwich. "Anytime you see a billionaire dying in the news, there's a better than average chance that they pissed off the auction. More specifically, they pissed off her."

"Who is she?"

"Nobody knows for sure, but we all know her as The Collector. The one above all. She who collects." Anthony stood and poured himself another scotch. "She has been around as long as the auction has, maybe even longer. And yes, I'm aware that this makes her over a hundred years old. No, I don't know how that's possible. Let me tell this next part, and you can ask your question."

Ingrid put down her hand. Her heart was racing now, and it was taking everything in her power not to text Eulalie that they officially had a lead.

"Okay, let's see if I remember this right. Ah, yes. Our oil baron friend. Now, he has been spending big money on these auctions, and he has quite the collection himself. You should know that the Collector respects the auction heavily. Maybe she even started it. I don't know. On the rare chance that you acquire something that she wants, you'll get a letter from her, or a messenger. It's usually a congratulations, followed by an offer higher than what you paid. Some people think it's a game she plays, lets you win on purpose and then sends that letter to see if you sweat it out."

"What happens if you don't sell?"

Anthony laughed. "Didn't I tell you no questions? Not that I'm encouraging the behavior, but you'll never guess. It's nothing. Absolutely nothing. If you bought that item fair and square and want to keep it, she lets it go. No hired assassins in the dead of night, no specialty teams who steal it, nothing. There was a guy who bought an item, died of old age thirty years later, and she popped back up to try and buy it from his heirs for the original price, plus inflation."

"You made her sound much scarier," Ingrid replied. "Like the auction boogeyman."

"Shh! Not in front of my babies!" Anthony put his hand on the nearest display, obscuring her view of a shield amulet. "All jokes aside, our wealthy friend made some mistakes and maxed out daddy's credit card. Now, most people would take this as a sign that they need to scale back, but our friend really likes showing off his magical toys to his friends. That brings us to our fateful auction. You see, there's a big item being promoted, and our boy wants it for himself."

"What was it?" Ingrid asked.

"This is what I get for letting you interrupt," Anthony muttered. "The item itself doesn't matter. You see, it is exactly the rare, random ass sort of thing that might catch the Collector's interest. It was some sort of statue that supposedly contained a drop of blood from one of the gods, since I can tell you're not going to let it go."

"The devil is in the details," Ingrid said.

"Yeah, yeah. You're lucky I find you adorable." Anthony handed Ingrid a sandwich, which she accepted. After she took a bite, he raised an eyebrow. "Out of curiosity, how do you know I didn't just poison you?"

"Because if you did, my partner would rip your face off afterward."

"I thought you said you came alone?"

Ingrid smirked and pulled Jenny out of her bag and set the doll up on the table nearby. "I lied. This is Jenny. I figured she might want a look around as well."

The man smiled and waved at the doll. "Hi there, Jenny!" He turned back to Ingrid. "Some sort of long distance surveillance?"

"Hauntingly long. These sandwiches are good."

"We use the discount mayo. I don't know why that makes them better." Anthony took another bite of his sandwich and swallowed. "I got lost again."

"Rich boy is low on money, god statue."

"Right. Now, our friend decides that he really wants this thing, and the only way he can afford it is to overwhelm the system and keep the biggest spenders out. Nobody is entirely sure how he does it, but he manages to have numerous people call in on the proxy line and pretend to be our mysterious billionaires. The first sign that something was off is that the proxy bidders aren't spending much. I was actually at the auction. There was a ring I wanted, which I had already, but I stuck around for the after party."

"And because you were high as a kite off their booze," Ingrid added.

Anthony giggled. "That, too. Bruce and I got busted making out in the coat check one time, but it was after the auction and all in good fun. Anyway, the statue goes up for auction and our friend there makes his bid, and the proxy lines go dead. Nobody is offering up a counter. The auctioneer says going once! Going twice!" The man held up an imaginary gavel and started bringing it down in slow motion. "Suddenly, a phone rings. Everyone freezes."

"A proxy phone?" Ingrid asked.

"No." Anthony grins. "The phone in my pocket."

"Wait a second. I thought that place was locked down," Ingrid replied with a frown. "No information in or out."

"You're right! And that's exactly why everybody freezes. It was like a scene out of a movie." Anthony dramatically reenacted opening an imaginary coat and pulling out his phone. "My first instinct is to silence it, but I see who's calling. The Collector herself, in my contacts. I didn't put her there, had never even spoken with her. When I answer it, the auctioneer is already shouting that they need to take my phone away, but I hold up my hand and tell everyone who it is, and the whole room becomes silent like a tomb."

"What did she say?"

"She told me not to move from where I was sitting, because it was a hole in their magical protection. Then she instructed me to have the proxies hang up their phones and wait until she was able to ring back in with a code phrase."

"What was the phrase?"

"A term of endearment I use for Brucie." Anthony blushed. "Which I won't share here, thank you very much. It took the Collector almost five minutes to get into the auction through the normal phones, because whoever was hired to tie up the lines didn't know what was going on. Once she gets in, she does the same thing that happened to me with the watch and adds a zero on the end of the current bid. The whole room is in shock, and the auction comes to a close." Anthony sat back down next to her and pretended to be more interested in his sandwich than finishing the tale.

"You're a massive tease," Ingrid muttered after a couple of minutes.

"I won't tell until you ask me," Anthony replied.

"Ugh. Fine. What happened next?"

Anthony grinned. "When we step out of the auction room, our friend's cell phone starts pinging like crazy. The man turns as white as a ghost, and then a security detail hired by his father escorts him from the building. Apparently, the Collector sent his padre a letter offering her condolences on the death of his son, which sent the man into a panic. Our boy holes up in a bunker with a security detail almost fifty strong."

"Fuck," Ingrid whispered.

"Fuck is right." Anthony stood and walked over to the display case with the watch inside and put his hand on the glass. "A week later, Brucie and I are staying in a cabana in the Bahamas. We like to vacation somewhere new at least once a year to keep from getting stuck in our ways. But that's old people talk. Anyway, I get a knock on the door and think it's the cleaning service, but it's just a little white box. When I look inside, this beautiful specimen was inside with a card that just said 'Thank you for answering your phone.'"

"Holy shit. How did she find you?"

"No idea. How'd she know my number? How was she in my phone? How did she know what I call my husband in bed? These are all things that have bothered me, but maybe now you can understand why I am loathe to say anything out of line, or to perhaps cause her any sort of trouble."

"What happened to the guy who tried to ice her out of the auction?"

Anthony made a face. "I'm afraid we only have the rumor mill for that. One way or another, he's dead. His father swore vengeance immediately, then backed down the next day and even went to the trouble of scrubbing his son from existence. You would be hard pressed to find any mention of him online. His entire collection reappeared in the auction, minus the watch. The proceeds went to charity, by the way. She wanted to make it perfectly clear that this wasn't about money. So if that's the person you're up against, well...maybe consider permanently retiring instead."

"Shit." That certainly wasn't an option. "I guess I appreciate knowing what I'm up against. Sounds like me and the team need to have a long chat."

"A really long one. Really ask yourselves if it's worth losing your lives over." Anthony studied Ingrid for a minute. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Ingrid chuckled. "I would, but I've got a long drive ahead of me back to civilization. I appreciate the hospitality."

"Oh, we always try to be hospitable. I keep hoping maybe we'll run across one of the Fae that way."

"Out here in Texas?" Ingrid snorted. "It's not likely."

"You never know." Anthony turned his attention to Jenny. "Her dress is cute and modern, but she looks like an antique. Please tell me you didn't ruin something that beautiful with electronics."

"Perish the thought." Ingrid looked over at the platter with the sandwiches. "Can I take some of those to go?"

"Of course. I'll also give you this." Anthony walked over to a nearby drawer and pulled out a pad of paper. He scribbled a phone number on it. "If you ever want to sell me information on what happened out in Maui or just talk shop, I want you to call."

"Thank you." Ingrid took the slip of paper. She carried Jenny back out into the main room where Anthony bagged up a couple of sandwiches for her and tossed in a cold soda along with some smoked meat wrapped in aluminum foil. She was back in her car about thirty minutes later with Anthony's home in the rear view mirror and the windows all opened.

They were nice, said Jenny.

"They really were," Ingrid replied. "It was kind of strange finding a museum about my job, though."

That wasn't actually the strangest thing, Jenny replied, but refused to elaborate any further when pressed. To fill the silence, Ingrid turned on the stereo and proceeded to sweat through her clothes on the long drive back.

When Dana opened her eyes, it was to a blurry scene. She blinked away the fuzz clinging to her eyes and tried to make sense of her surroundings. It seemed that she was sitting in some sort of office, or maybe even a small library.

Trying to move, she realized she couldn't feel her body. When she opened her mouth to speak, no sound came out. She tried to call out for Tasia, hoping that maybe she was nearby and would see that Dana had awoken. When this failed to yield results, she closed her eyes and tried to remember.

For the first time in her unlife, Dana couldn't. At least, not right away. She vaguely remembered traveling through the portal to Kensington and wandering the streets with Tasia. Latching onto that memory, she tried to follow along with it. Some memories were patchy at best, while others didn't include all five senses. She could feel Tasia squeezing her arm through her jacket, and remembered the talk they had about Dana's diet.

Her vision cleared a bit more, revealing a circular room with books stacked up to the ceiling on shelves made of very dark wood. While unable to move her head, she could move her eyes. Her head was at an angle, as if sitting all the way back in a recliner.

"Ah, you're awake. Good for you." A feminine voice with a British accent spoke from just behind Dana, and an older woman wearing a knitted sweater and carrying a cup of tea walked into view. "I wasn't entirely certain you would. Blink three times if you understand me."

Dana obliged, more than a little concerned about what the woman was testing for.

"Fantastic. You retain your intelligence, even in an undead state." The woman dragged a chair over and put on a rubber glove. "I'm sure your thoughts are all muddled right now. I'm afraid that's my fault. When a werewolf and a zombie break into your home, one can tend to overreact."

Dana blinked furiously for a moment.

"If you're worried about the wolf, she's safe for now," the woman replied. "I wouldn't dare harm two such amazing specimens. Do you happen to know if she's a result of the Order's experimentation? They had a little pet project that went sideways, or so I was told. I'm very eager to speak at length with her. I've been unable to create and sustain a werewolf population of my own, well, one with any proper semblance of humanity. I daresay I wouldn't mind a few wolves on my staff." She leaned back in a chair. "Your friend really is a magnificent specimen. It was hard to take my eyes off of her at the auction.

The auction. Through the muddle of Beth's memories, she remembered breaching the home and standing at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Up on the landing, a painting of a farm with an old man had been hung.

"Oh, shit," Tasia had replied. "This one is a dead end. Let's get out of here."

The memory terminated there. Dana opened and closed her mouth in an attempt to speak.

"Right. I forgot." The woman leaned forward and grabbed something just above Dana's line of sight. "I had some probes stuck in your grey matter and was running tests. Your regenerative properties are quite fascinating. It's your body's attempt to revert to its original state." There was a wet schlumping sound, followed by intense pressure in Dana's sinuses, and then a six inch spike was pulled from her forehead. "I have so many questions for you, I don't even know where to begin. I'll have to reattach your torso first, so that your lungs can pump air through that voicebox of yours."

Dana's eyebrows raised. Her torso was detached.

"Yeah, I won't bother apologizing," the woman explained. "First rule of dealing with the undead is that you take the head. The two of you were so busy standing there admiring my painting that it was the first thing I did. Threatening to burn your corpse got your friend to back down pretty fast. I was thrilled, as the rug you were on is over a hundred years old."

After two more probes were pulled, Dana's memories came flooding back. The encounter had played out much like the woman had said, with Tasia begging for Dana's life.

Fuck.

The woman looked like she was about to say something else when her phone rang. Frowning, she pulled off a glove and looked at it. "Modern technology," she said. "All the conveniences of magic and somehow more annoying."

There was a sparkle of light in the woman's eyes, followed by a grin. "Well, well. I would love to stitch you back together for an old fashioned interrogation, but it would seem that a demon tried to break into one of my businesses overseas." She clucked her tongue and studied Dana for a moment. "I'd better go collect it before she figures out how to break free. I've got just the place to store her."

The woman set down her mug and held out her left hand. A broom shot into it from the other side of the room.

"Yes, I know, a bit outdated, but it's still the fastest way to get from one place to another," she said as she walked out of sight. Dana heard a window open, followed by a rush of wind. "I'll be back in several hours. Don't go anywhere."

There was a loud fluttering of movement, followed by the window clicking shut, and then silence. Dana opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

I know body horror during the Christmas season feels a little gauche, but how many people will experience the minimal version when they hit the gym on the 1st of January?