A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 5d: OF ZOMBIES AND ZEALOTS

She leapt to the side, up onto one of the thrones, using it as a launching pad to spring for some ceremonial fencing swords that were just out of her reach. (Sometimes her height is a particular drawback.) Snaring one, she brandished it in self defence, waving her palm along it to check that it was an effective weapon, and not merely decorative. To be clear, preventing a witch from speaking doesn’t prevent her from spell casting, it merely prevents the ability to focus magick for the more intensive spells.

“Magnes,” Melody stated.

Melissa felt the magnetic pull as Melody tried to relieve her of the blade. She allowed for a slight pull, then turned the trajectory into a spin, and flung the blade at the elder blonde witch. As Melody was forced to deflect, Melissa ran back for the entrance.

“Volo.” Melody flew up into the air.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

Melissa was overtaken before she could get out. Which was when her hand came up out of her bag, throwing a handful of backup salt into Melody’s face. As Melody flinched, concentration broken enough to make her return to the ground, Melissa made up the couple extra steps.

She grabbed one of the spears from the zombies who were only now untangling themselves at the entrance.

But there were more zombies closing in from all sides. Melissa saw she had no viable escape other than back through the large throne room. She took a second to clear her throat before charging back in.

The spear being mostly wood, it kept Melody at bay temporarily. Melissa needed to find the access point to the hidden room ahead.

“Aduro,” Melody intoned, and Melissa’s spear caught fire.

The brunette smirked a little at that, having hoped for just such an attempt to disarm her. Holding her bag in her hand to act as a fire buffer between her palm and the spear, she maintained her grip and ran backwards, to a tapestry. Using the flames to set it ablaze, Melissa then waved the burning shaft of wood about, to keep any newly arriving zombies at bay.

Perhaps realizing that she had just given Melissa a MORE dangerous weapon, Melody’s next summons was “Aqua”.

Again, anticipating something of the sort as soon as Melody opened her mouth, Melissa was a hair faster. Perhaps trying to make up for her earlier hesitation. She threw the blazing spear towards the entranceway, making the zombies back up. That the water then condensed and fell upon her, instead of the spear, verified that all Melody’s spells were area based, and cast in her direction, as opposed to actually on her person.

Another clever loophole. Melody wasn’t performing magick on the unwilling, Melissa was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Reaching out, the now slightly dripping witch ripped the still burning tapestry down from the wall. Concluding that her arms and shoulders were soon going to have a hard time forgiving her, she ran back for the thrones, still using the fire as a buffer.

Now Melody hesitated. Or perhaps merely concluded that she had time to think of another plan, as Melissa seemed to be cornering herself.

‘Come on, come on,’ Melissa said in her head, and possibly would have been muttering it aloud if she’d had the capability.

She saw the scuffmarks on the floor. It had to be due to the hidden door scraping on the stonework. The only remaining question was how to open it.

Unfortunately, at that moment, her luck ran out. Before she could figure out the door, there was the sound of someone clearing his or her voice on the upper level.

“What,” the voice rumbled, “is happening here?”

It was Mortum.

With Zamboni’s words, the attention of everyone in the park shifted from him to me. I was pretty sure he hadn’t set out to make my Agency (technically Melissa’s) into this lightning rod for her status, but asking me whether I had propositioned Melissa and/or was pulling her strings? Had managed to do just that.

“Melissa’s not the marrying type,” I shot back at the waiting Zamboni.

Which I immediately knew was the wrong response. First, it didn’t deny that I might have asked her, and second… it made me wonder myself whether Melissa was, indeed, inclined to stay single. For the first time since Amy, at the start of the summer, I found myself wondering how far things were going to go between Melissa and I.

“Perhaps she’s merely not the type to marry YOU,” Zamboni said, far too smugly.

Did Zamboni have a point? Why hadn’t Melissa or I touched on this subject yet? We’d merely returned to our status quo. For weeks now, nothing had changed.

I was forced to do more self-reflection. At what point do you know you’ve found ‘The One’? More to the point, hadn’t I already answered that question? My debating three months ago with Amy had led me to choose Melissa.

But I hadn’t returned to her with a ring and a promise.

Of course, Zamboni seemed to be in this for the magick lifestyle, and Melissa had feared as much of me when I first came back. And while I wasn’t about to run off with another witch, if Melissa were to give up the Agency, would I feel any disillusionment? I supposed there was an answer for Zamboni in that.

“Melissa’s married to her job, anyone who knows her knows that,” I fired off.

Except this was a job which would go away in three weeks – as either the supernatural would be a reality, or it wouldn’t. There would be no need to have an agency to balance things out. And without the job, what were we? Still a couple? What would Melissa’s next project be after the Agency? Would she want me along? Would I still want to be a part of her life if we weren’t solving supernatural crimes?

“Sorry, what?” I said, realizing I’d missed Zamboni’s latest retort.

“I said you have no reason to be speaking for Melissa here,” Zamboni repeated, narrowing his eyes. “Her job should speak for itself. Frankly, you do not even seem capable of investigating the supernatural without her. Can you perform magick?”

I grimaced. Well, lying wouldn’t help. “I can do illusion.”

“Please,” Zamboni sniffed. “Anyone can do that. No, you couldn’t conjure up a rose even if your life depended on it. You are a mere puppet, the only question is whose. Perhaps Melissa conjured you up herself, to keep suitors like me at bay, hm? Or to keep give the factions here a red herring to investigate?”

He attempted to push past me again. “Come, Melissa, let us ignore this fool and be joined. It is time.”

I reached out a hand to stop him. “Melissa is not going anywhere with you.”

“And who’s going to stop me?” Zamboni said, managing to make his voice even colder than mine. “You?”

“Perhaps,” I answered, even as I realized I was getting way out of my depth. “Don’t underestimate me. I’m full of surprises.”

“That’s true enough,” Trixie/Melissa muttered.

It was Zamboni’s turn to pause, perhaps wondering just how far I’d be willing to take this. “Very well,” he said slowly. “Let us say I agree to back off, and even give up my explosives… it would be under condition that YOU marry Melissa. After all, if she is so fond of you, doing this will avoid further meddling by me or anyone else.”

“Y-You can’t guarantee that though,” I protested, hating the quaver in my voice.

“Can’t I?” Zamboni smirked again. “You merely do not wish to finish things. Come, I have the priest. You shall be married in my place. Unless Melissa wishes to speak up for herself, for once? Rather than letting you continue to speak?”

My expression sort of froze, as I directed my gaze back towards Trixie/Melissa. She returned the look with a very Trixie-style expression that I found I could only interpret as, ‘You idiot’.

After all, the more she spoke, the more likely the deception would be uncovered. But I couldn’t play along and marry Trixie. Even if it were somehow judged to be marriage by proxy, Melissa hadn’t given consent. Nor could I admit now that this wasn’t Melissa, as Zamboni was liable to simply blow the whole place up. But then, what was the alternative?

For a moment, I felt like I needed Melissa’s guidance more than ever, and wished that I could have been with her just then.

Quick as a wink, Melissa yanked an adhesive scroll out of her pocket and slapped it onto the wall, before turning and standing in front of it.

Melissa could see him now, coming down the stairs. Mortum was a slightly portly man, balding, maybe Melody’s height, currently dressed in a black bathrobe. He quickly sized up the situation.

“Fascinating,” he concluded, expression almost a smile. “I haven’t had an unexpected visitor get this far in over fifty years. Someone, go and hold her. And my dear, if you resist, I assure you I have no qualms about throwing the person who fails me into that fire you’ve prepared.”

Melissa could think of several choice things she wanted to say to the man at that point, but perhaps fortunately for him, she still couldn’t speak. So she merely stood there, fists clenched, as two type I zombies, a male and a female, moved in to restrain her by the arms.

“Now then,” Mortum continued, upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, “we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The easy way involves you explaining to me why and how you came to be here. The hard way involves me zombifying you and getting the same information that way. Though I suppose that way is easier for me.”

Melissa’s eyes narrowed. Mortum flashed a smile. “Aha, yes, rather seems a bad idea to let you speak just now. I suppose that wasn’t really a decision I’d let you make anyway.”

He gestured at Melody. “We’ll let my most powerful spirit split it’s attentions between you two witches then. See what it can learn. Maybe it will even find itself a new home. Melody?”

The blonde witch took a step forwards as the other two zombies held Melissa firmly to prevent her getting away. The brunette’s eyes darted left and right, but she saw no possibility for escape there, and a slight struggle showed she wasn’t about to break free.

Melissa decided she had no choice but to fixate her gaze on Melody’s hand, as it drew closer and closer to her. Wondering when the zombi spirit would jump into her head.

Trying to stave off desperation, I looked from Trixie/Melissa, to Zamboni, to the priest. It was upon seeing the priest that something Zamboni had done a short time ago fully registered, and the solution hit me.

With that, I felt a surprising amount of inner calm.

“Perhaps you are right,” I said to Zamboni, “it would be proper to ask Melissa’s opinion here.”

I turned again to the image of my girlfriend, whose Trixie-expression immediately morphed from ‘You idiot’ to a concerned ‘What are you doing?’ I smiled reassuringly.

“But before we do that, you should know two things, Zamboni,” I continued. “The first is that she has been working with a protégé of her’s, Trixie, on an amazingly complex technological device, called Rixi. Mel, could you perhaps give us a demonstration? Have it call up some scrolls for a containment spell, say five or six?”

Trixie/Melissa eyed me before reaching into her jeans pocket and pulling out the device she I knew she’d grabbed before departing. She never goes anywhere without it. “Rixi, containment scrolls,” she said into it.

“All right,” Rixi said brightly. “Accessing.”

I glanced back at Zamboni, who was now starting to look suspicious, and the priest, who was looking confused.

“Yeah, Mel’s been working a bit too hard lately, she’s starting to sound like the tech,” I pointed out, as the glowing sphere deposited scrolls into Trixie/Melissa’s hand. I quickly took them from her. “It’s rather interesting though, the design wasn’t merely based on Siri, what were those other animated television shows that Trixie said she had been watching? I never remember.”

Trixie/Melissa eyed me as I began to walk to the gazebo. “Magical Lyrical Nanoha and Martin Mystery,” she admitted quietly after a moment.

“Those were the ones,” I said, as I slapped a scroll up onto one of the beams of the gazebo. “Never have found the time to get into what she calls anime, but I hear it’s fascinating stuff.”

Trixie/Melissa had to have known by now that I was stalling for time. Given how my memory wouldn’t let me forget those trivial little details, which we’d discussed during our first dinner, all those weeks previously. But would she see what I wanted her to do, or more importantly, when I wanted her to do it?

“Stop wasting time,” Zamboni cut in, apparently cluing in to the delay tactic too. I picked up the pace of my circuit of the gazebo as Zamboni continued, pasting up the scrolls. “We’re here to decide who is going to marry Melissa, not what her friend watches on TV. Is there even a second thing we should know?”

“You aren’t listening to me," I shot back. “Marrying Melissa is merely why you’re here. And you’re trying to pull me into it to, almost like as long as it happens, you get paid. Is that tuxedo even yours, or is it a rental?”

“It is MINE,” Zamboni sighed in annoyance, reaching up to adjust his bow tie. “Now stop stalling or I swear I will activate the explosives."

“Very well,” I said, raising my index finger. “The second thing then. It involves a case I was part of, one regarding a young lady named Danielle. Saving her included the use of a latin phrase, ‘die dulci fruere’. Do you perchance know how to spell that?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I gave Trixie/Melissa a pointed look. She DID remember what she’d said about the case less than an hour ago, right? Her eyebrows went up, and I knew she understood.

“It’s a rather meaningless latin phrase,” Zamboni was answering. “Which has nothing to do with those scrolls, but which I’m about to interpret as a threat.”

“Here’s the thing then,” I finished. “You say this moment is a turning point, which some spirits foretold. That may well be true. I’m sure it’s why the most devout are staying to watch, even now. But I don’t think YOU are meant to be part of this turning point, Zamboni. Because you aren’t even brave enough to carry the explosives yourself.”

I immediately shifted my attention from Zamboni to his priest, snatching the bible from his hands before he had a chance to prevent it. As I suspected, the book was a lot heavier than it should have been.

“Trixie!” I called out, throwing the object into the gazebo.

Trixie/Melissa raised her voice slightly as she completed the latin chanting that she had been doing under her breath. She raised both her hands, creating the necessary mystic gesture.

“Fac ut gaudeam!” she concluded.

The papers which I had placed around the gazebo lit up with a bright glow, just as the book hit the ground. There was a massive explosion.

And that’s when I realized I’d made a mistake.

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 5c: OF ZOMBIES AND ZEALOTS

I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of her being there, looking like my girlfriend. Particularly given her earlier thoughts about Zamboni, and possible jealousy issues towards Melissa having been picked. “I don’t know, Trixie.”

[caption id=“attachment_2345” align=“alignright” width=“186”] TRIXIE
Commission from Sen Yomi[/caption]

“James, I have to use a low level version of the illusion spell, or it’ll register a mile away,” she explained. “That means no vocals. So unless you’ve gained the ability to talk like Melissa in falsetto, you’re out. Plus, ever since throwing your name on this agency? Your identity’s been twisted up with Melissa’s. You coming along wouldn’t be seen as weird. Me there plus ‘Melissa’ too would put people on their guard.”

She made sense. “I suppose,” I said. “But you don’t really sound like Melissa either.”

“I’ll mumble and pretend I have a cold,” the redhead countered, already starting to pour a circle of flour around Melissa’s desk chair. “Honestly, me or you, what’s the difference?”

Even setting aside my concerns over ‘Trixie/Melissa’, I realized I was still worried about Trixie being in the thick of the action all of a sudden. “Just want to make sure… you really wouldn’t rather back me up from afar?”

She looked up at me then, and frowned. “I won’t freeze up.”

I raised my hands. “I didn’t say you would.”

“Don’t get all protective and caring of me either. You’ll make me hate you more, over how we can’t have a relationship.”

I rubbed my forehead. “I just want to make sure you’re doing this because you want to, not because the situation seems to require it. Okay?”

Trixie sighed, dropping the flour sack onto the floor. The circle was ready. “Fine, well, you got a plan C?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

“Then it’s fine.” She grabbed one of Melissa’s personal items from the desk and then jumped up into the chair, crossing her legs to prevent her short, plaid skirt from revealing too much. “I really am doing this to see what it’s like living in Missy’s shoes for once. We good?”

I wasn’t sure if that was a satisfactory answer, but even my plan B wasn’t solid in my head. “Okay, just make sure the spell makes you look like you’re wearing something Mel would wear.”

Trixie smiled impishly, and started to chant in Latin.

Melissa peered out from the alcove she’d selected as a hiding place. She saw nothing.

The coast should be clear now, she reasoned, all the way to the vicinity of the throne room. As to whether she’d be able to work her way back out… well, one thing at a time. She attuned herself again to her tracking spell, which had continued to move on ahead, at the edge of her awareness, and used it as a reference.

She then set out, moving quickly but quietly. Maybe ten minutes later, she was only a corridor away from her destination.

Two steps past the suit of armour, she registered her mistake. Melissa quickly jumped forwards and rolled on the ground, narrowly missing the axe that had been swung down at her.

“That was stupid,” she muttered to herself. Of course armour could contain a body. Still, it was armour. Obvious weakness. She came up on one knee, and readied the electrical spell at her fingertips.

Then paused. Once burned, twice shy.

Could a type III zombi animate a suit of armour? If THAT was the case, she couldn’t touch it at all, lest the spirit jump to her. But maybe this was a simple enchantment, and not even a zombi?

It was readying another swing of the axe. She couldn’t risk the touch.

She switched her focus from her fingertips to her palm, holding it out as it to say stop, while at the same time intoning, “Caecus!” A bright flash of light lit the corridor in front of her, and the swing of the axe went wide.

The armour could apparently be blinded, therefore had eyes of a sort. Hence not a simple enchantment. Melissa didn’t waste time with a follow-up, hopping back up onto her feet and racing down the corridor in her initial direction.

She should be able to get into the collector room around the back of the throne room, and then seal herself inside temporarily. Buying time to work out an escape. But that plan went awry too, when a person with vacant eyes stepped out of a side passage, seemingly investigating the noise.

Seeing Melissa, it blocked her way.

Melissa reached back into her bag, fingers connecting with the end of the rope inside. She yanked it out, calling out, “Ligatio!” as she threw it at the zombi that stood before her.

It had started to extend its arms, only for the rope to magically wind around it, pinning its arms to its sides. That allowed Melissa to edge to the side of it. Then, reasoning that they’d expect her to continue on her current path, she ducked back down the side passage from where her opponent had emerged.

With her presence known, stealth was becoming less and less of a concern. Given her location, she decided to go for broke.

Three more right turns would let her hit the throne room dead on. Unlikely that Mortum was hanging out there this late at night, and from there, she could still get into the room with the orb and barricade the entrances.

Heading for her third right turn, an obvious type II appeared from the left. Obvious, as no living being could have a chest wound that large. As such, she decided to risk a tactile spell.

By stopping short in her run, it couldn’t correct as fast, and almost plowed into her; Melissa extended her index finger. “Dormis!”

The zombi with the chest wound fell to the side; she didn’t waste any thought on whether the undead could dream or not. Fifteen steps became ten, then five – yet at the main doors, there were two more, now registering her arrival and holding up spears.

Two was the number she’d hoped for.

“Everro!” Melissa called, making a hand motion from left to right. The one zombi got yanked sideways into the other, both of them falling to the ground in a cluster of arms and legs. She pressed her advantage.

“Fit via vi!” was the spell, with both palms now out, her fingers interlaced. The hinges on the double door buckled from the force blast, and when Melissa slammed into the wood with her shoulder, the opening yielded to her weight. Even so, Melissa wagered she’d need an ice pack when this was all over.

As soon as she burst into the central room, with its stereotypical columns, raised dais and additional stairwell curving up one side, she was looking for a way to access the hidden area that she knew existed behind the thrones.

As such, she missed the woman with the long blonde hair standing in the corner until it was too late.

Or rather, Melissa noticed her within two seconds of entering, but was then frozen for the critical extra seconds that she’d have needed to cast a spell. She knew this woman.

“Melody,” Melissa breathed out.

“Qui tacet consentire videtur,” Melody intoned, raising her finger and pointing.

The elder blonde witch, the one who had once consulted with an old classmate of Melissa’s, who had once suspended me upside-down in a position of peril, and who had once caused Melissa herself to suffer a breakdown after summoning a recently departed spirit, stood in Mortum’s throne room.

She was now a type III zombi. Who had just taken away Melissa’s voice. A fact that my girlfriend became acutely aware of, when she found she was unable to cast a protective shield.

As we started down the stairs of the apartment building, I looked at Trixie again. The illusion made her appear exactly like Melissa, right down to the pair of tight jeans.

“So, how we gonna play this then?” the witch chirped, thrusting her smaller chest out at me. Reinforcing the fact that she didn’t have Melissa’s voice or mannerisms.

I looked away. “We determine how this lunatic is going to blow up the park, and defuse his explosives or the situation before he can marry you,” I stated.

“Duh. Can you be a bit more specific?”

“I’m still working out the details," I admitted. “Thing is, the faction side of this worries me. Why would they let Zamboni get this far?”

“What, you think they’re working together?” Trixie/Melissa asked.

“Alicia did say the groups wouldn’t be working at cross purposes for much longer.”

“Yuh huh. I bet Alicia said a lot of stuff to rope Missy into going on her mission.”

I sighed. “Maybe. Just… follow my lead, okay? And please don’t say things like ‘yuh huh' or ‘duh’ when you look like that. It’s all kinds of wrong.”

Trixie/Melissa smirked. “What if I call you an idiot instead? Hey, curious, would it be a turn on for someone who looks like Missy to call you that?”

“Trixie…”

“Call me Mel,” she giggled. She briefly grabbed for my arm, but my reaction must have told her that she’d crossed a line, and she quickly disengaged. “Sorry. Look, I won’t say that stuff because I’ll have made it look like Missy’s lost her ability to speak or something. That said, since your thinking’s stalled, I reserve the right to improvise.”

I nodded. “I guess that’s fair, but don’t take any undue risks.”

We headed to the park, after making sure our protective charm necklaces were still in place under our shirts. We weren’t about to get stabbed in the back without warning. It was just starting to grow dark, making for a bit of a gloomy atmosphere; the sunset seemed to be mostly red.

The park, I discovered, also had a lot more people in it than we might have expected… some I recognized as previous attempted guests at the apartment. Had they simply not been in this park when I walked this way? Or had they somehow used illusion to seem different?

Of course, given Zamboni’s ultimatum, maybe a lot of them were here now to catch a glimpse of Melissa, which would be more difficult at most other times. I hoped no one would try to take a shot at Trixie/Melissa, or all hell might break loose. That is, assuming they weren’t all working together somehow.

Crazy marriage guy turned out to be hard to miss. He was standing with a priest close to the park’s centre, next to the gazebo.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t one of those guys who looked that crazy. Sandy blonde hair, hazel eyes, reasonably good looking, dressed in what seemed like a rented tuxedo, complete with white bow tie. He simply drew the attention of everyone around him.

The priest nodded at Zamboni, for reasons that would make more sense later.

“Aha! Aha!” Zamboni shouted at us, as we stopped short a couple paces away. He shook his finger in the air. “See, I knew the true Chosen One would not let her brethren come to harm. See how well I know you? We are destined to be together.”

“Right, well, we’re here now, so why don’t you put away whatever detonating device you have as a show of goodwill,” I said. It looked like the guy had even put some flowers around the gazebo, which I supposed was a nice touch.

His gaze fully turned from Trixie/Melissa to me, becoming a glare. “Who are you?”

“James Conway. I run a supernatural agency, and I speak for Melissa in this case. Who are you?”

“I am the Great Zamboni. Surely you’ve heard of me?”

“Right, yes. Ice to meet you.” (That just slipped out.) “So, let’s defuse the situation, okay? Give me the explosives.” I stepped closer and extended my hand.

Zamboni shook his head. “I will not give up my insurance until me and Melissa are joined in wedlock.”

Trixie/Melissa must have rolled her eyes or something, because he then moved to try and step around me.

“Melissa,” he continued, “the time is near. You must pick someone. Surely you don’t want to face your decision alone?”

“Look,” I continued, keeping myself between Zamboni and Trixie/Melissa. “Even assuming that’s true, we don’t need a shotgun marriage yet. Let’s reschedule.”

The priest let out a grunt. Zamboni laughed.

“Fool,” Zamboni said. “This is the time that was foretold to me by the spirits from the other realm. It is the turning point, the moment when Melissa’s fate is realized. Of course we shall do this now!”

I exchanged a quick glance with Trixie/Melissa, wondering if I’d missed part of a conversation, before turning back. “Zamboni, check your calendar, you’re about three weeks early.”

The blonde man glared at me again, then waggled his finger. “You mock. But I don’t mean this is the decision of the Chosen One itself. I mean this is the turning point. And the presence that is here, within me, will help Melissa sift through the data to make the proper decision when it is time. I know it.”

He lifted his hand to his heart. Were his feelings the presence he meant? I belatedly wondered if this was a case of possession, kicking myself for not thinking of the possibility sooner.

“I don’t need a guy like you in my data,” Trixie/Melissa piped up in a rasp.

“A marriage here is out of the question anyway,” I broke in quickly. “Melissa’s parents aren’t even here. They would want to attend such an event.”

Zamboni’s eyes narrowed as his gaze was again brought back to me before he could address Trixie/Melissa. He peered. “You know of her parents? Ah, yes, yes, I can see that now. It took me a moment, but you see yourself as my rival, James. Yes? You wish to be the one sifting through Melissa’s data?”

Trixie/Melissa snorted. I had to agree, somehow that sounded dirty, but I’m not sure if it was from his tone or my mind.

“I am merely her business associate,” I stated.

Trixie/Melissa started coughing violently.

Zamboni now looked ticked off. “I am not a fool. You care for her. I know now. Curious though.” He stepped back and made a wide gesture with his hand, almost hitting his priest in the process. “Perhaps you could reveal your game to everyone here? After all, could it be that YOU have proposed to her already, as I have? Is this why you claim to speak for Melissa, hmm?”

He caught me off guard with that one.

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 5b: OF ZOMBIES AND ZEALOTS

Trixie gaped at me. “Really? We want someone like that to realize Missy’s away?”

“We can pretend Mel’s sleeping, or will be back soon,” I answered. “Danielle Timins, she was involved in my first case here. The one I documented online. I’m curious about what she wants now.”

Trixie frowned. “First case… the invisible friend thing? Where you nearly blew up a building on campus?”

Apparently this was another of the cases that Melissa had mentioned to her cousin during my three-week absence in May. “That’s the one.”

“Okay. And you’re sure that this is the same person, not some sort of illusion? And that she hasn’t joined a faction in the last four years, like maybe the stabby-stabby one?”

“I… euh…”

[caption id=“attachment_2345” align=“alignright” width=“186”] TRIXIE
Commission from Sen Yomi[/caption]

“Once an idiot, always an idiot,” Trixie sighed, rolling her eyes. She glanced at her palm, as if debating smacking me upside the head, like old times. Instead, all she said was, “I’ll hang around long enough to keep you out of trouble.”

I opened the door for Danielle.

Trixie immediately fired off with, “What faction are you representing?”

Danielle shrank back. “Oh, um, I do have scriptures explaining why the human race isn’t ready for supernatural incursions,” the blonde said timidly. “Based on what I remember of my own experi—”

“Rationals.” Trixie slammed the door in Danielle’s face and turned to me. “Told you.”

“B-But that’s not why I’m here!” Danielle called out from the other side.

I sighed. “Trixie, let her back in?”

She shot me a look. “As if we don’t have enough on our plate already?”

I crossed my arms. “And here I thought you were eager to help the Agency out with more than just the engrams.”

“This IS helping,” Trixie said. “Isn’t it?” She searched my expression, then frowned and reopened the door. “Fine. Make your case for sticking around in ten seconds or less, Danielle.”

Danielle reached to push her glasses up higher on her nose. “There’s a guy in the park down the street who says that if Melissa doesn’t show up in the next hour to marry him, he’ll blow everything up.”

I did a double-take. “He’ll what now?”

“Huh. Blow the PARK up or blow MISSY up?” Trixie questioned. I turned to see if she was making fun of the situation, only to realize she was doing up the half of her blouse buttons that had been undone. She was taking this seriously.

“Blow the park up,” Danielle clarified. “The one where a lot of us faction people have been hanging out. Trying to figure out how we can get the upper hand on the other groups.”

“Wait, all the factions are there?” I asked, looking back at her.

“Sure,” Danielle answered.

“I figured you all had to have a home base,” Trixie mused. “Okay, sorry for slamming the door on you. Question though, how is him blowing up your base a smart move?”

“He’s not part of any faction,” Danielle insisted. “Or if he is, he’s some hybrid. He showed up about five minutes ago with that crazy ultimatum. And a priest, for the marriage. And our rudimentary magick shows he does have explosives. So we’re at a bit of a loss as to what to do.”

“Did you sneak out to come get us?” Trixie asked.

Danielle shook her head. “I was nominated, as a Rational person who had once seen Melissa, and could thus maybe gain her sympathy. Even though I don’t remember much about my case, they thought you’d at least let me in.”

“In that, they were right,” I realized. I looked to Trixie. “You know, the fact that Melissa just left can’t be a coincidence,” I pointed out.

“A-duh,” Trixie retorted. “Way to not be an idiot for once, though minus points for saying that with Danielle still here.” She turned to the blonde. “It’s fine. Run along and we’ll fix things within the hour time frame this guy gave. Unless you have other useful information?” She made shoo-ing motions.

Danielle started wringing her hands. “Are you sure? When is Melissa due back? We don’t even know where this guy’s explosives are, and a lot of people in the park are hanging around to see what happens, rather than being smart and running away.”

“It’s fine,” I said, to back Trixie up. “Though, you might want to be one of the smart people who leaves the area. Okay?”

Danielle nodded, her glasses slipping down once more. “A-All right then. I’ll pass on the message. Oh, if it helps, the guy called himself the Great Zamboni. That’s all I’ve got.”

I closed the apartment door as she headed down the stairs.

“Okay,” Trixie said, tugging up on her dark stockings. “I figure that Mortum guy used Alicia’s orb, and sent this Zamboni to keep Missy busy here, so that she wouldn’t be messing around his castle. But the message was a bit late.”

“Though it could be coincidence,” I suggested. “Maybe this marriage guy was planning to blow up the park regardless, and he wants Melissa there for it, to get her in the blast. He doesn’t exactly sound balanced, he might be full of crazy instead of worship.”

Trixie nodded. “No kidding. Anyone considering marriage to Missy can’t be balanced.”

She smirked. It took me a second to parse why, and as I did a double take, she extended her tongue impishly back. At least the earlier conversation hadn’t made things awkward between us.

“Either way,” Trixie stated. “I’ll put my intimacy cravings on hold to help you with this.” A flash of uncertainty appeared. “Unless you don’t want my help. Since I guess this will be field work and a half.”

“No, I’ll need the help,” I assured her. “Since my back-up plan is going to require magick casting, and that’s your department.”

Trixie nodded. “Cool, you have a plan. This, I want to hear.”

“We have almost an hour, so it involves doing some research, while hoping Melissa’s able to complete her mission particularly expediently.”

“Uh.” Trixie didn’t look impressed. “And your back-up plan…?”

I exhaled. “Well, Plan B involves getting some flour from the kitchen.”

I’ll now relate to you some of what happened with Melissa. You’ll find out in the end whether I know this from her directly, or through other means.

When Melissa first arrived, she was forced to blink a few times to adjust to the lower light levels. In the end, she didn’t like what saw. There had been three possible points for her arrival, as Alicia had said her informant couldn’t guarantee placement.

One was down in the dungeons. Another was an arboretum-style room. The last was at the top of one of the towers, where she now seemed to be. Where there was only one point of entrance or egress, unless you counted flying. (The dungeons, funny enough, had two.) With no alternative, Melissa crouched and hurried down the stairs before her, hoping not to encounter anyone on the way. These being the same stairs she would need to take to get back out.

One of the main reasons Melissa had known this would be difficult, was because she had to avoid casting any particularly powerful spells in order to avoid detection. Ironically, casting invisibility would only serve to pinpoint her position. Another drawback was the fact that Melissa didn’t want to attack any zombies if she could avoid it; she’d already resigned herself to the fact that she would need to obtain Alicia’s orb before attempting to free them.

After all, she could only be sure all of them were released by blocking, or otherwise incapacitating, the magick of Mortum. Which implied removing any advantage he might have. Alas, since (according to Alicia) the orb itself was kept in a sealed off storage room behind the throne room, a face-off might become inevitable.

Fortunately, Melissa was in luck – there was no one in the vicinity of the stairs. As she reached the bottom, she opened her pack to remove a small jar, which held the tracking spell she had prepared earlier. It appeared as a tiny glowing ball of light, and once Melissa had unscrewed the lid, the spell fluttered out and down towards the ground.

It remained there for a moment, hovering, before shooting off down the hall. Melissa attuned herself to it, before setting off in quiet pursuit.

It was upon peering around the third corner that she caught sight of her first zombi.

It was a male, perhaps in his thirties, looking none the worse for wear (outside of his tattered clothing), thus likely a type I or type III. He’d been slowly walking through the hall, facing away from her.

Another misconception I should dispel here is that zombies always move slowly. They tend to do that when they’re on a routine patrol (who wouldn’t get bored and go on autopilot?), but they can speed up if they have to, just like a normal human.

Melissa now searched her memory, to recall what Alicia had mentioned about security patrols. The majority of the interior squad was type II (no need to feed those ones), while the majority of the exterior squad was type I (despite the remote location of this guy’s castle, there was always the possibility of them being seen by the public, or one of his collector guests).

So the fact that she’d passed the perimeter, and yet this wasn’t a II, meant it was one of the inner guard. Melissa was closer to the throne room than she’d realized. The specs hadn’t been entirely accurate.

Moreover, given the position of that zombi, and the other information she had, she reasoned that she’d have to work her way back out and around. Then wait a full half hour before a window of opportunity opened for getting through.

Melissa’s tracking spell was already out of sight, but it remained close enough for her to draw a bead on it. She wasn’t in any hurry. Or so she thought, not knowing what we were facing back home.

“Flour from the kitchen,” Trixie said, dropping the sack onto the desk and then looking at me expectantly.

“Right,” I sighed. We were down to twenty minutes left. “So you didn’t turn up anything useful on this Zamboni guy?”

I’d spent my time combing through Melissa’s files for any reference to him, or any similar cases in the past, and had come up empty. My eidetic memory had implied as much at the start, but there’d been a couple places where I’d wanted to be sure. I’d left the internet in Trixie’s hands.

Trixie leaned forwards against the desk. I saw she’d unbuttoned part of her blouse again, whether as a conscious decision or otherwise. “I didn’t find anything I saw as useful,” she said. “But here’s the rundown, on the off chance you spot something.” She smirked. “First, Zamboni’s not the manager of an ice rink, much to my surprise.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Yeah, I’m going to have to curb a desire to pun,” I admitted.

“Maybe don’t,” Trixie said. “What little there is on the guy shows that he can get riled up when he’s made fun of, which in turn leads to him making mistakes.”

I frowned. “Do we want a guy with explosives to get riled up?”

Trixie shrugged. “I said MAYBE don’t.”

“Noted. Anything else?”

She seemed to hesitate. “He’s a regular guy with bare minimum magick who’s aware of its existence, and as such is constantly looking to hook up with a witch. Which is why I did find cursory information. But his lovers don’t seem to satisfy him, or he accuses them of ulterior motives, and so he keeps bouncing around, from one witch love affair to another. Never finding a lasting relationship.”

“Ah.” I wondered if Zamboni had been exposed to magick the same way I had been. Trixie seemed to want to say something else though, so I kept staring at her.

Her mouth tightened. “So even an idiot like you can see there’s a bit of a parallel in my own life? Fine. Look, I won’t turn out like that. Whereas he’s sleeping around trying to find his place in the magick community, I’m just trying to find my place in the world. And whereas he’s thinking he’s finished because he’s found a Chosen One, I’m just going to keep going until I make, oh God, I’m not as pathetic as this guy, am I? Please say I’m not.”

I couldn’t tell if her attempt at a smile was her joking or being sincere.

“You’re not,” I assured her, honestly. “After all, you’d never blow people up to find yourself a boyfriend.”

Trixie almost facepalmed. “James. Seriously. The explosives aren’t for Missy, they’re because he’s decided that, after all this time, if she ISN’T his doorway in, nobody else WILL be. She’s no longer a girlfriend, she’s his Chosen One. His final solution. Much like how I’ve decided that anyone who wants me must have ulterior motives, making me wonder if I shouldn’t just build an AI boyfriend.”

“Uh. Wait, what? Are you making an AI along with everything else?” I said, not sure about the timing of this conversation.

“No, idiot, I’m too busy helping you and Missy first.” Trixie glanced down, apparently realizing her button popping had been distracting, and she started to do them back up. “Look, don’t worry about having this conversation with me, James. You’re no good at it. Suffice to say, I’m realizing I shouldn’t coerce people to walk my path, even if it’s obviously the best path, because I’m so smart. People have to be themselves, and forcing otherwise means things will blow up in my face.”

“Right. You’re not like Zamboni though, seriously.”

“I’m glad you think so.” She gestured at the sack she’d brought. “Now explain to me why we are throwing flour at the guy?”

I seized the topic change. “Right,” I said. “We don’t throw it. The plan is, we put that in a circle, and then you work a transformation spell to make me look like Melissa.”

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 5a: OF ZOMBIES AND ZEALOTS

Melissa looked startled, as if she’d forgotten I was even there. She looked towards me. “Sorry, James. But yes. A zombi is the ultimate perversion. Using witchcraft to turn a body into a puppet for one’s own purposes. There are laws against that sort of thing in our trade.”

“Aha. Obviously this is different from the classical ‘eat your brains’ kind of zombie.”

“Hollywood strikes again,” Melissa said with a shrug. “Also, zombi, fast i, only the plural uses an e.”

It also says something that she had to tell me that. I was pretty good at the language of the supernatural by now, yet zombies had never come up in all of our time together.

She went to sit back down at the desk, which I think was to prevent pacing back and forth. I waited until she was ready.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

“There are three types of zombi," Melissa began at last. “In the first case, a regular person, or occasionally animal, has their willpower totally supplanted by the spell, basically becoming a slave in their own body. Their actions are totally controlled by the caster. In the most dire of cases, the body can die because even though the brain knows they should be drinking water, the body received a command not to do so.”

My eyebrows went up. “That’s terrible.”

Melissa’s voice was clipped. “It gets worse. The second type of zombi involves reanimation of a dead subject by forcibly tying their spirit back into their body. This tends to warp and taint the spirit, be it slowly or quickly depending on the actions the zombi takes – and again there’s nothing the individual can do about it.”

Here I understood Melissa’s apparent revulsion. She strongly believes that once a death has occurred, that individual has passed into another state of being, if not another realm. Thus it’s unhealthy for us to use supernatural means to tie them to our mortal plane of reality, messing with the natural order of things. To do so is at best irresponsible, and at worst, can compromise the deceased’s spiritual existence.

She’s indicated that some ghosts and specters were not originally evil when they first chose, or were forced, to remain on Earth.

In fact, that one time I saw Melissa break down and cry? Was when she was forced to briefly call upon a recently departed spirit, in fighting an older witch named Melody. I’m not sure she’s ever fully forgiven herself for that one, though it did get me out of a potentially life threatening situation. It was one of the first cases that I chronicled.

“Do I even want to know about the third type?” I asked.

“Well, they’re perhaps the most dangerous, while simultaneously being the least horrific, as far as I’m concerned,” Melissa said. “Creating the third type involves enslaving a spirit, rather than a body itself, and requires at least passive acceptance on the part of the spirit. But said spirit is useless without a body, so it can take over whatever is available – temporarily. It can jump, and in fact must, once human immune systems kick in. But for hours, even days, it can supplant the will of whoever’s body it likes the most at any particular time. It is sometimes able to control multiple bodies at once. You don’t want one of them touching you.”

I thought about this. “Seems a bit like using magick on the unwilling,” I admitted.

“Alas, the dead don’t really have an advocate for what they want or don’t want,” Melissa said. “And a person not being satisfied with their life is often enough of a wedge for the zombi spirit.”

She finally couldn’t sit still any longer, standing and starting to pace despite her best efforts. “Incidentally, it’s that last zombi type that gives rise to the belief of zombies spreading an infection, and the lack of their own will that has people believing they seek brains. It’s more that a zombi seeks to regain control of their own brain. The whole practice is absolutely despicable, and I cannot believe that it’s still going on in what we laughingly call a civilized society.”

I looked a little more closely at Melissa. “Did you accept this mission in order to retrieve Alicia’s orb, or in order to free the zombies?”

She gave me a look, and I knew it was the latter.

“But if there are laws against this sort of thing, can’t you or Alicia notify the magick authorities?” I protested.

“I’m guessing this Mortum doesn’t publicize the scope of what he’s doing. Alicia probably only knows because of her person on the inside, and for that matter, this orb is probably giving the guy an advantage as well.”

I nodded slowly. “Well then, I’m going in there with you.”

“No.”

“Mel, we do these things togeth—”

“Not this time!” Melissa repeated loudly. Then her gaze softened and she reached out to take me by the shoulders. “It’s too dangerous, plus Alicia specifically stated that I’m the focus point. The only one who can slip under the radar.” She smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to go in unprepared.”

I tried to think of a good objection.

“Damn it, what’s all the shouting about?” came Trixie’s annoyed voice. Her twintails appeared as she opened her door and poked her head out. “I’m about to do some delicate work here, constructing a memory circuit using what feels like stone knives and bearskins. Do you mind?”

“It’s about zombies,” Melissa said, looking towards her cousin.

Trixie’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, fuuuuck. Spill.”

Melissa left us the following evening. She had already coordinated with Alicia by that point, so that she would have some idea as to the layout of Mortum’s castle and the size of the force she would be dealing with. She refused to share the information with me or Trixie.

“So what if we have to charge in and rescue you?” Trixie had asked earlier that day. “We won’t have your map.” The techno-witch had surfaced to find food, and found Melissa putting things into a backpack.

“You won’t need to charge in,” Melissa retorted.

“Uh huh. You know, being this Chosen One doesn’t make you invincible, yeah?” Trixie pressed. “There’s others who can take over, or whatever.”

“Of course I know that. The same way we both know field work isn’t something you excel at,” Melissa fired back. “So back off.”

Trixie glared. “Low blow. In return, maybe I should get in contact with your parents and tell them how often you’ve been sexing it up with James, against their advice?”

“At least I’ve had sex with a guy in the last three weeks, unlike you,” Melissa said. “Are your silly tricks not having their desired effect this month?”

“Whoa. WHOA,” I interjected from across the room. I’d been looking at Wing’s accounts. That had escalated too quickly. “Mel, decorum!”

Trixie’s face had become red, with either embarrassment or anger - or both. I’m not sure. “Wow, sorry for caring,” was all she snapped before going back into her room and slamming the door.

I approached Melissa. “You must know that was uncalled for.”

Melissa pressed two fingers to her forehead. “Right. Right, sorry. This zombi thing has me on edge. If you talk with Trix later, apologize to her for me? Please?”

Insisting to Melissa that she apologize herself felt like a conversation for later, particularly when Alicia herself came by to create the circle of salt for us shortly thereafter.

Know that it wasn’t strictly necessary for Alicia to do that, but she knew where the corresponding circle would be on the other side, as laid by her inside informant. Which would help to ensure safety on the return trip.

“Okay,” Melissa concluded, just before 8pm. Meaning after 1am European time. She had dressed in black for the occasion, within her usual motif - jeans, T-shirt and running shoes. “Give me at least two hours before you start to worry.” She shouldered her backpack.

“Kind of hard to schedule my concern,” I pointed out. “Besides, is there anything I can do when those two hours are up? That I couldn’t do now, that is.”

Melissa seemed about to wave me off, only to change her mind. “You could have Trixie contact the witch authorities,” she allowed. “Since at the least, I should have made it more difficult for this Mortum guy to disguise his zombi hordes by then.”

I nodded. “Please be careful, Mel.”

She simply grinned back, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Always.” Melissa leaned in for a quick kiss before moving into the salt circle. “Alea iacta est,” she muttered at last. And she vanished.

Less than a minute later, Trixie came out of her room. She was wearing a barely buttoned up red blouse and a short plaid skirt with long, dark stockings, meaning she’d changed from the more conservative outfit (for Trixie, at least) that she’d worn earlier in the day.

“Missy gone?” Trixie asked.

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “And she said she’s sorry about earlier.”

Trixie crossed her arms under her breasts, seemingly to push them up a bit, while leaning back against the wall. “Sure she is. Because you told her to be.”

“She is,” I insisted. “I mean, I know you don’t see us a lot of late, so maybe you couldn’t tell, but Mel is pretty on edge about this zombi stuff. Probably the Chosen One stuff too. Let’s talk again once this is over.”

“Uh huh.” Trixie looked me up and down. “Missy’s part of the reason I’m not getting any, you know,” she blurted out.

I stared. At Trixie’s face, for the record. “O-kay?”

“You heard her call me out on not bedding a guy lately, huh? She was right, of course. I dunno what the hint was, but her perception is as acute as ever.”

“I wasn’t going to bring it up.”

“No kidding, that’s why I’m bringing it up,” Trixie continued. “My last major Friday date was three weeks ago. Turned out to be one of Missy’s Worshippers. He was trying to use me to get to her. Ask me how I knew.”

“Um.” Playing along seemed safest. “All right, how did you know?”

“Any normal guy would be fine with nailing me back at his place. Ergo, insisting that we do the deed here, in this apartment, was a huge red flag. And yes, maybe he lived with his parents, the way I used to. Or it could’ve been a kink.” Trixie took a deep breath. “So I swiped his wallet when he wasn’t looking. Had pictures of Missy in it, and a membership card for some fan club. Can you believe it? What an idiot, keeping that stuff on hand while trying to pick me up.”

“Uh, yeah. Look, Trixie, I’m… not sure why you’re telling me this,” I admitted.

Trixie lowered her arms to push herself off the wall. “Well, aside from the fact that it’s a pretty good bit of field work on my part, who the HELL else am I going to tell? Besides, Missy’s life is interfering with mine in more ways than one… and I’ve wanted to get that off my chest.”

I think Trixie’s got it down to a science, using the word ‘chest’ at the same time as she does a heel bounce, to naturally draw the eye down. I still fall for it. “Fine,” I said. “Now could you at least… not do that, for right now?” I asked, gesturing.

“Oh, sure, because I can turn off my personality on a whim,” Trixie shot back. She stamped her foot. “Never mind all the work I’m doing for Miss Chosen One. Without any reward to speak of, aside from the work itself, I might add. Just screw Trixie, except of course I’m NOT getting screwed lately, I’m lonely as hell, and nobody cares!”

I now realized her eyes were misting over. My first instinct was to give Trixie a hug, except I worried that would result in mixed signals. “I-I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t notice.”

“Of COURSE you didn’t,” Trixie said. She rubbed her arm over her eyes, as if to clear them. “Because you’re the wonderful kind of idiot. But Missy obviously deduced it all, and didn’t care. That’s why I’m upset. Damn it, why am I helping you two idiots out again?”

I was swiftly feeling all kinds of awkward in this conversation. “Because you know Mel cares, even though she doesn’t express herself very well?”

“Cares about YOU, you mean. Maybe I should have just let her fan club into this place after all, might have taught her not to ignore me.”

“I’m, um, not sure that would have solved anything.”

Trixie stared at me. “You still don’t get it, do you. The big reason why I’m telling you.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “No?”

“Agh, IDIOT,” Trixie groaned, sliding her palm down her face. “Look. I thought I was finally fitting in here, James. Sure, I’m a bit of a third wheel, but I was helping out, right? With my skills? It seemed like that. Finally, the fact that I’m so smart, or so shallow, or so witchy, or so whatever, wasn’t a barrier.”

“Is this about field work again?”

Trixie pursed her lips. “Only partly. It’s about how despite being a part of this, I still craved intimacy. Which I thought I could fulfil through… you know. But now this job is screwing that up. I mean, don’t misunderstand. I won’t leave you now, not when I’m so close, but damn it, I need to be held. And to not wonder if it’s happening because I know Missy.”

“Um.” Again, I wondered if I should give her a hug. “Held, or groped? Because as a friend, I could manage the first…”

“James, connect the dots, it’s kinda the same thing for me,” she interrupted. “Which is why I’m going out now, dressed like this, despite Missy’s life possibly being in danger. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s an attempt at self-care. You get it?”

I nodded. “Okay. You have needs too, I get it,” I agreed.

“Good.” She didn’t immediately make any move for the doorway. “James… I AM helping you both out, right? With more than just the engram work? You still like having me around?”

I didn’t get a chance to answer, because that’s when the protective wards downstairs tipped us off to the presence of a new arrival. When I went to look, I saw a blonde woman with short hair, wearing glasses. She looked vaguely familiar.

“I need to talk to Melissa,” she said into the monitor, seeming a little out of breath.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Danielle. Danielle Timins.”

I knew that name. She’d been involved in my first ever Virga Mysteries case.

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 4e: OF PARENTS AND PROGRAMMING

First, by August, Melissa and Trixie had toned down their sniping at each other. This was largely due to how Trixie was very preoccupied with the immense computing task we’d given her, and as such remained mostly in her room.

I realized that her inexperience with field work had been a source of insecurity, one she masked through humour and conflict, to avoid appearing stupid. So having it scaled back by choice worked out.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

Meanwhile, Melissa’s own insecurity - about whether I was in love with her, or with witchcraft - was put to bed within the first couple weeks of my return. Granted, she was still vexed with how her “rival” Trixie would shake her chest at me (particularly if it was over breakfast, because there occasionally wouldn’t be a bra involved yet, and that is damn distracting) but I explained (in private) how it was a coping mechanism for Trixie.

Meanwhile, Trixie seemed to be handling her relationship issues by vanishing on Friday nights and arriving home Saturday morning looking disheveled. (“Yes, it’s what you think,” she told me once, when I asked her. “If you must know, the challenge of programming a sophisticated magical neural net gets me hot and bothered, and a vibrator is not a great way to ever find myself a permanent relationship like yours, so what do you care anyway?")

To avoid getting into deeper trouble, I simply said Trixie could talk to us if there were problems. With that, enough said about my roommates (Agency-mates?).

As far as the three factions went - recall the Crazies, who wanted Melissa dead, the Rationals, who wanted to petition her, and the Worshippers, who wanted her venerated - we didn’t see much of them. At first.

It probably helped that, with Melissa’s true location submerged, we’d put out a few false trails in other locations around the world. It’s also possible that Melissa’s parents were running interference somehow.

The first evidence that we weren’t invisible was near the end of June, when a guy refused to leave the front stoop of the apartment until he’d been allowed to touch Melissa’s hand. And present her with a rose. (“I’d almost prefer we see more of the type of people who are trying to kill me,” Melissa admitted that night. “At least I know how to handle them.”)

She did throw the rose out of the back window, over concern that it was booby-trapped. I suppose that was possible.

In July there was more of a shift. A guy came into the office claiming that he was being stalked by a demon, only to pull a bunch of files out of his briefcase and then begin a lecture on the benefits of urban fantasy entanglement.

A week after kicking him out, there was a ticking package left on our doorstep. After dunking it in water, we determined from the card that someone had tried to give Melissa a new clock. (We really should get the batteries fixed in the old one. The fact he/she didn’t know that the present wasn’t useful was somewhat heartening.)

Then the first Crazy. Someone in the apartment downstairs admitted to me that he’d let in a guy dressed in robes and a pointy hat; supposedly a knife salesman. We were out at the time, and there was no sign of the guy later.

We extended our protective wards out that day, from covering only Melissa’s apartment area to the entire building. As much for our safety as to avoid further issues with the other tenants. Also, fringe benefit, the wider net interfered with Melissa’s parents spying on us. So, one less thing for me to worry about.

Speaking of her parents, as far as I knew, they were continuing to work on the spell that would suspend all electronic activity on Earth, which would allow them to cast the ‘Merlin Reinforcement Spell’, for lack of a better phrase.

Melissa still didn’t think the latter would work, and still wasn’t sure why. If her parents knew we were working on a backup plan, they said nothing.

At any rate, none of the factions impacted our daily lives, aside from our decision to wear protective wards when out in the city. And speaking of being out, the Agency did get a number of supernatural cases that summer, though they were pretty routine.

And what is routine for us, you ask?

Let’s summarize it as: -Person comes into office with a problem (“I think there’s a curse on me” / “My garden gnomes are coming alive at night” / “My roommate has become invisible”). -Melissa (disguised) and I listen and diagnose (“It’s not a curse, there’s a devil on your left shoulder controlling your actions” / “Simple case of possession” / “Sounds more like your roommate became half an inch tall”). -We take payment and remedy the situation (“We’ll distract the devil by creating an angel on your right shoulder” / “Don’t blink, don’t look away, and tape this scroll onto their pointy hats” / “Leave this small cake out with a sign reading ‘Eat Me’.”).

For some cases, the field work is necessary (for instance, to locate the origin of a problem, so that there isn’t a new curse next week, or in that one case, to locate the tiny roommate), but all these kinds of cases tended to take less than a week from start to finish.

But make no mistake. While the cases were routine, there was definitely an uptick in supernatural events, the longer into the summer that we got. It was simply in frequency, not scale.

That is, there was nothing I know of on the order of Amy’s knife remaining as a lamp, and certainly nothing that made us think elves were about to invade from a nearby realm or anything. (Spoiler: They don’t.) But maybe these things were happening in more rural areas, so don’t get the wrong idea.

Then in early August, Alicia Wing came by. That was a big deal.

Alicia runs a small store of mystical artifacts and trinkets, the location of which is half hidden above a bookstore. She’s been Melissa’s ingredient supplier for at least the last four years, and is very tolerant of the witch’s quirks, such as her calling at three in the morning looking for an ingredient for a spell.

I’d gotten to know her reasonably well too, but had never before seen her outside of her business. Alicia had always given me the impression of being a sixty-something Chinese shut in; the white haired woman was simply there whenever we needed something, wearing traditional garb, her store perpetually cluttered and always faintly smelling of incense.

So I was a little caught off guard when she buzzed to come into our apartment building in the middle of the day, and looked to be wearing a floral print dress and straw hat.

“Mel, did you or Trixie order something from Alicia’s?” I asked.

Melissa, still sitting at her desk, looked up at me. By this point, she had dispensed with any sort of illusion spell so long as she was in the apartment, and I’d effectively returned control of the office space to her.

“Not me,” she said. “And I doubt it was Trixie - you want to risk disturbing her?”

I glanced at Trixie’s bedroom door. “Pass. Could our supplier have been recruited by one of the faction groups then?”

“Let her up and we’ll find out,” Melissa concluded.

I let Alicia come up.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I seem to be making a house call,” the older woman said as I let her in the room. “Know that this is more of a case, along with a chance to finally settle your bill.”

I stared. “Our bill?”

It struck me then that she’d always extended us so much credit that I had no idea how much we still owed to her. In a business like ours, you’re pretty much fortunate when you’re making ends meet. Then again, maybe the same could be said of Alicia.

“Your bill,” Alicia repeated back, with a hint of a smile.

I looked to Melissa once more. “Uhm, Mel, check the third file folder in the second drawer, how much DO we owe Wing’s Mystical Collectibles and Assorted Knickknacks?”

She went to have a look. Then shook her head slowly. “Did you drop a decimal when summarizing the account back in April, James?”

I went to have a look myself. “Oh. That’s not good.” I looked back at Alicia. “Please tell me we’ve at least paid you something in the last four months.”

“Something,” the older woman said, nodding. “Interest accruing can really be a problem though, can’t it?”

“Well, you’re welcome to repossess a lot of stuff,” Melissa offered. “The way things are now, I don’t think I’ll be using most of it this August, and things are a little up in the air after that.”

“I’m aware,” Alicia said. “Chosen One.”

I tried not to frown at the title. “ARE you with one of the factions…?”

“No,” Alicia assured us. “But I know this city. And they are closing in on you. At present, they’re largely cancelling each other out.”

“Cancelling out? What do you mean?” I said, at the same time as Melissa said, “I wondered about that.”

I turned to look at Melissa. “You know what she’s getting at?”

Melissa nodded. “I saw a shifty looking guy with a rifle in a trench coat at the corner last week. He was chased away by what I assume to be a small group of Worshippers. And a Rationalist got his iPad zapped and deleted by examining rather too closely our ward across the street. The one meant to protect against bladed weapons.”

“And there was a worshipper in my store looking for leads,” Alicia agreed. “She decided to move on after being subjected to a librarian’s lecture about the dangers of fantasies coming to life.”

“See James, anyone in the Crazy faction can’t attack me by conventional means,” Melissa concluded. “The Worshippers wouldn’t allow it. While the Rationals can bore Worshippers to figurative death, convincing them to give up. Unfortunately, they ignite blind rage in the Crazies, to the point where that group don’t care anymore, which is why I got that death threat in the grocery store yesterday. It’s all a cycle.”

“You mean the fact that the groups are at cross purposes has been working in our favour,” I summarized.

“Correct, but it won’t last for much longer,” Alicia cautioned.

I turned back to her. “You get that from a crystal ball or something?” I wondered.

“Or something,” Alicia repeated back, again almost smiling.

“Okay,” Melissa concluded. “So you said you had a case that would settle our debt.”

Alicia nodded. “I want you to obtain a particular mystical artifact for me. A collector who lives overseas took it from my family some time ago. If you can return it to me, I’ll consider your debt to my store paid in full.”

Melissa frowned. “One artifact? It’s worth all that?”

“It’s worth all that,” Alicia affirmed. “And it will, incidentally, retain its value regardless of your upcoming decision. Because it’s an orb that gives one the ability to look into their personal future. Even alter that future. This makes it very valuable.”

“And very difficult to get,” I reasoned. “Since if you have it, you’d see anyone else trying to obtain it.”

“Precisely,” Alicia agreed. “Except recently, Melissa’s become a bit of a focus point. Ironically, this means she’s best suited for a stealth mission into Lord Mortum’s European abode, as signs will point to her still being in this town.”

“I don’t do break and enter though,” Melissa protested. “I stay within the law, not to mention within the country.”

Alicia wasn’t about to back down. “I have a person on the inside. You can teleport right inside Mortum’s castle, at which point you merely have to deal with his security force, get the orb, and teleport out. An orb, I remind, that was in my family originally. I have the papers to prove that. Also the orb will square your financial debt to me.”

“Still a form of theft,” Melissa said, hesitating. “Have you not tried other means to obtain it?”

“I have,” Alicia assured. “He’s very stubborn.” She paused a beat. “And his security force is zombies.”

“Fuck,” Melissa swore.

I’m sure I’ve heard her do that less than a dozen times in all our history together, so for her to do it now, I knew it had to be serious.

“I have your cooperation then?” Alicia said.

Melissa’s jaw was tight. “Yes.”

“It can only be you, of course. Your other associates must remain here.”

“Understood.”

“Very well. I’ll return tomorrow with the castle layout, once you’ve made preparations.”

With that, Alicia departed, and I turned an expectant gaze upon Melissa. The emotional walls that I’d worked my way around over the last few years now seemed to be firmly back in place. She continued to look at the closed front door.

END ACT 4

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 4d: OF PARENTS AND PROGRAMMING

We remained standing that way for at least ten seconds, at which point I decided I might as well grab a piece of toast, and offer one to Melissa as well. It wasn’t until almost five minutes later that Trixie moved her head and gave a full-on blink, processing that we’d changed positions.

[caption id=“attachment_2345” align=“alignright” width=“186”] TRIXIE
Commission from Sen Yomi[/caption]

“Oh, there you are. Okay, look,” she began. “Making such an AI from scratch would be ridiculous, as I’m sure you both realize, particularly given the time constraint. But what I COULD do is take what I’ve already got coded for Rixi, and find a way of laying down the mental engrams of a real person on top.”

“Sort of like creating a virtual Melissa?” I asked.

Trixie made a face, her nose scrunching cutely. “If you insist on using HER engrams, something like that, yes.”

“Hold on,” Melissa protested. “I know enough about science to know that engrams are, first of all, hypothetical, and second of all, only valid for reliving prior traumatic events. Moreover, I don’t want Trixie screwing with my head any more than she already does on a daily basis.”

“I’m obviously using a magick component here,” Trixie explained. “To preserve engrams to a level above your typical scientific definition. And while I’m not going to say there’s no chance of complications on the technical side, on the biological side, the real person involved wouldn’t feel in a thing. In fact, I’d been thinking of using MY engrams.”

“Ahh. You’re not the Chosen One though,” Melissa fired back. Her tone was matter-of-fact, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that she was trying to claim some sort of superiority over her cousin there.

“It can be done then,” I said, in an attempt to summarize.

Trixie pulled her attention back to me, crossing and uncrossing her arms. “Yeah,” she said. “That is, I’m pretty sure.”

She finally simply clasped her hands behind her back, while simultaneously pushing out her chest, in my direction. “James, truly, you may have just given me the first actual honest to goodness challenge I’ve ever had to face in my entire life to date. I kind of love you for that.”

I then that realized her breathing rate was quicker, and her face was getting flushed. I hoped it was only excitement over the project itself.

“Ahem, must I remind you he’s taken?” Melissa cut in.

Trixie’s gaze snapped towards Melissa. “Did I SAY–”

“Um, look, Trixie, I’m glad,” I said quickly, trying to head off another argument. “Though here’s the second thing. We also need to you retroactively scrub out any information on the internet related to Melissa’s Supernatural Detective Agency, putting it in my name instead.”

Trixie turned her stare back at me, pulling herself back to her full height. “The hell? Because you thought me trying to devise a highly sophisticated neural net wasn’t challenge enough?”

“You’re the one with the IQ of 151,” Melissa murmured.

“Yeah, 151, not 515, dumbass,” she snapped.

“Sorry, Trixie,” I apologized. “I figured it would be as simple as a search and replace virus. If it can’t be done–”

“Don’t YOU start with that,” Trixie said, obviously vexed as she pointed at me. “I can do it easy, but it would take a day and there would be loopholes and my brain is kind of totally preoccupied with your first project right now. Why didn’t you lead with the simpler task?”

“I… guess we should have?” I mused.

“Right. So.” Trixie pulled the end of her ponytail into her hands, curling it about her fingers, as she again leaned towards me, now batting her eyelashes. “Can you pleeease give me at least a week with the big stuff before I look into the silly name thing?”

“We need the name thing done first,” Melissa said bluntly.

“I wasn’t asking you, Missy,” Trixie growled, this time without looking.

“She’s right though,” I said. “We’re over the three month mark, if we don’t submerge Melissa’s name fast, we’ll be faced with interruptions from all those other factions we mentioned earlier.”

“Nnngh. Three days then?” Trixie pleaded. “I have some ideas that I want to start looking at right away.” She brought a hand up to unbutton the second button on her blouse. I think the first had been unbuttoned the whole time, I’m not sure. Either way, at this point my eyes wandered, I couldn’t help it.

“No,” I asserted to Trixie’s cleavage. “Sorry.”

“Multitask,” Melissa suggested, now elbowing her way in between the two of us.

The redhead stamped her foot on the ground. “Missy, you’re never ANY fun. I’d quit this agency, if I had anything better lined up.” She pointed at me. “And James, you… you… oh God, I don’t know if I want to slap you real hard or kiss you even harder.”

“I’d STRONGLY suggest doing neither,” Melissa said.

“Fine. I’m going to my room,” Trixie concluded, storming out of the kitchen. Moments later, her door slammed. Then opened, then was slammed again for emphasis.

I looked at Melissa. “Something tells me her parents had to deal with tantrums far more than yours ever did.” My girlfriend smothered a laugh.

At least Trixie understood, in the end. We’d decided to let her stew for a day, but by the next morning, a routine online search on Melissa Virga’s real name turned up nothing. Or at least nothing related to our Melissa. But the Agency still existed, and I was in charge.

It occurred to me after the fact that if anyone else happened to have the same name as Melissa, they might be in trouble (sort of like in those Terminator movies). Mel reassured me by saying that in person, she’d be giving off certain magick vibes that were unique to spellcasters - a bit like how there’s apparently a scent on people who hang around witches long enough - along with pointing out how unusual her last name was in the first place.

I resolved to thank Trixie the next time I saw her, for her prioritizing. But then I didn’t see her until Thursday. She spent most of the intervening time in her room, working. I glanced in at one point when the door was ajar, seeing that during my absence, she’d moved in a small computer mainframe, next to the bed. Where she was asleep.

Even after I saw and thanked Trixie over breakfast, she only mumbled back a thanks, obviously preoccupied.

It wasn’t until the following Monday that Trixie surfaced from her engramatic studies, having remembered that we were owed a dinner together. Melissa agreed, even though it was technically too late per the original deal. It’s not like we were busy with cases anyway, in fact I wondered if our Agency having ceased all advertising was responsible for the lull.

I let Trixie pick the restaurant. As such, I learned that the techno-witch may have a thing for Japanese.

Trixie also wore pants for the occasion, whereas I’d thought she only owned skirts of various lengths and fabrics. And she let her hair all the way down too. I commented on that fact, as we headed out.

“Yeah, see? I can be mature. VERY mature,” Trixie said, smiling. And with that, she thrust her shoulders back, pushing her chest out into her blouse, so much so that a gap appeared between the buttons.

“Remember, nothing’s coming of this, aside from a good meal,” I pointed out.

“Uh huh. Remember that you felt you had to remind me of that,” Trixie said, wiggling her shoulders to set up vibrations.

“I say that for your sake, not mine.”

“Uh huh,” Trixie repeated, still wiggling.

With that, I ceased looking at her. At some point on our way to the restaurant, she stopped thrusting her chest out. And her possible attempts at seduction diminished even further through dinner itself, to the point that, by the time we left, she was slumped as she walked.

Of course, I also knew more about her by then, as Trixie was more of a talker than Melissa. And as I’d suspected, Trixie hadn’t had many friends in school, in part because she’d told me that she’d never been sure if they wanted to be friends for her personality or her mind. Or as she put it, “It’s no fun if people are cozying up to you for test answers.”

I wondered if maybe that’s why she’d taken to emphasizing her body the way she did, after puberty hit. Namely to remove personality and mind from the equation, so that she would always know why people were approaching her.

Trixie also admitted over dinner that she’d always had something of an interest in technology, much like her mom. In fact it was Marissa’s marriage to Wayne, a technophobe, that caused Trixie’s mother to communicate less with her sister. They weren’t estranged, to be clear, but they talked so little that Trixie hadn’t even known about Melissa’s agency until she’d been approached.

Related, her Rixi device apparently took some inspiration from Japanese anime, and a television show called ‘Martin Mystery’.

And then there was the matter of Trixie’s sex life, which I didn’t get lots of detail on (thank goodness) but apparently she’d had a couple of boyfriends. Which she brought up as more evidence of her maturity. Even though it transpired that she’d basically initiated and then broken off the relationships herself.

Not because they’d been bad in bed, more “too high maintenance”. She may have been implying she’s more into one night stands.

As we reached our street, out of the blue, Trixie straightened her posture again. “So, have you figured out why I wanted to do dinner with you yet?” she asked.

I shrugged. “To annoy Melissa,” I figured.

“Fringe benefit, but no.”

“Then to learn about me first-hand, without Melissa’s possible embellishments.”

“Kinda, but also no.”

I realized I had to think about this now. “Was it because of Melissa’s cooking?”

“No, that was an excuse, not a reason. Keep trying.”

“Uh, because you hadn’t been out on a date in a while?”

“Oh, you truly are an idiot,” Trixie sighed. “I mean, I thought the whole point of this exercise is that this wasn’t a date? Besides, I only need to dress in leather and go to a club to get a guy to buy me dinner. Which, I gotta say, would end in a way more fun way than this night is gonna.”

“Why don’t you tell me then,” I decided.

She stopped walking and fell silent, looking away from me. Then, “James, I thought I was going to be kicked out of the apartment. Before that happened, I wanted to peek into the window of a successful relationship. To see if I could learn to spot whatever Missy saw in you.” She turned back to me, her gaze questioning.

“Oh.” I felt like I should say more, but I wasn’t sure what to say. “It’ll happen for you some day,” I finished, as she kept staring.

Trixie sighed, and resumed her walk. “I wasn’t asking for platitudes, idiot. Look, did I at least seem like a normal girl towards the end of dinner? I’ve kind of forgotten how to not mess with people.”

I fell into step beside her. “You’re asking the guy dating Melissa about what’s normal?”

“Point,” Trixie admitted. “Oh well. It’s funny though, I felt like I could ask you that question, versus anyone else I’d be out with. Oh, and kind of related? On a casual basis, I’m going to keep shoving my breasts at you and doing seductive things. Just so you know to be ready.”

I held back a sigh of my own. “Trixie, there are less annoying ways to bug Melissa.”

“It’s not about Missy,” Trixie snapped. “It’s about me wanting to treat you the same as I do all other guys, James. Because if I start treating you special, I think I’ll start to care about you, and then everything will get complicated. Because of how you’re taken. Okay? Can you maybe stop saying stupid things now?”

We reached the front door of the apartment building in silence. “I wonder,” I said as we headed into the stairwell, “do you call all guys idiots, or is that more reserved for me?”

“Oh, you’re a special kind of idiot,” Trixie muttered. “In that you actually listen to me when I say that. Now, stop talking altogether, or I might want to kiss you on the cheek.”

I stopped talking.

The next day, around the apartment, Trixie wore what I think was a sheer negligee overtop of a bikini, almost like she was making up for dressing so conservatively the previous night. Or maybe she wanted to reset her life equation back to something she understood? Or show up Melissa. Trixie’s mindset was still hard for me to understand.

Regardless, at this point, I’m going to jump from the end of May to the start of August. Because that’s when everything started to come to a head, including a case that came to us courtesy of a visit by Alicia Wing.

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 4c: OF PARENTS AND PROGRAMMING

Melissa’s expression morphed into a frown. “None on Trixie’s level. Even witches thirty years her senior aren’t at her level. Plus I don’t want to tell a stranger about all this Prophecy stuff.”

“Okay. So…?”

Melissa groaned, pressing her palm to her forehead. “Uggghh, it really has to be Trixie, doesn’t it. Of all the… James, is it okay if you’re there when I’m talking about it with her? The two of us are always bickering, and I don’t want to do that with something so important.”

“Sure, Mel, anything I can do.”

“Thanks so much.” And Melissa spontaneously reached out to hug me. “Not only for being there, but for seeing another path forwards here.”

I tried to hug back, despite my arms being trapped by the hug. “It’s fine. You’d have done the same for me.”

“For sure.” She pulled back. “Now, if only we can find a way for me to keep living my life too, despite all this insanity going on. Because I love my parents, but I don’t want to stay with them for months. Particularly not while you and Trixie are off… programming together.”

There was a bit of a hesitation there, which implies to me that Melissa wasn’t only thinking about programming. Seemingly still a bit unsure about my love for her, over any possible lust for Trixie. And to be fair, the last time I’d seen Trixie, she’d been blowing me a kiss back at the motel room, so maybe she wasn’t someone to be casually dismissed.

“Maybe we can move your business to Outer Mongolia,” I quipped.

“Hah. I get the impression these three factions would find me regardless,” Melissa sighed. “No, I think our Agency is done for, given how my name’s tied to it and everything.”

My dad’s remark from earlier in the day came back to me at that point. “Okay, so what if we replace your name with my name.”

Melissa did a double take. “Pardon?”

“What if we put your supernatural agency in my name,” I insisted. “Retroactively even, if there’s a spell for that, so that anyone looking into past cases wouldn’t turn you up at all. This way, we’d still be able to function locally, and any clients we already have would recognize me. Unless you had a ton in the year before I came on board.”

Melissa’s thoughtful expression was back. “We’d need to take that website down that you put up last year, and ideally scrub any trace of me from browser searches – damn it, I think we’ll need Trixie’s help with that one too – but it could work. I can even still be there with you, if I disguise my appearance. My parents shouldn’t object to that, they’ve done it often enough.”

“I’ll take down those old case files too,” I added. “The ones I put online.”

Melissa waved me off. “Don’t bother, you called me Melissa or something in those, right? Might even get people to chase false leads.” She frowned. “Of course, if we do this, I’ll want your assurance that you don’t leave the office without some form of magick protection. Even if it’s only a ward from our usual distributor. After all, the last thing I want to do is put your life in danger simply because I can be kinda stubborn.”

I half smiled. “You, Mel? Stubborn?”

“Ha ha. Promise me, James, you’ll use protection.”

I resisted the urge to interpret that in another way. “I promise, of course,” I said, raising a hand to my heart for emphasis. Then I beamed. “See? Problems practically solved. I knew you had it in you.”

She smiled, and blushed faintly too. “Couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks for that.”

Before I knew it, we were kissing. It was nice. It progressed to french kissing. Then I was somewhat climbing on top of her, and she was pulling my shirt up out of my pants, running her hands around on my back. It was after her leg had hooked around me while I was cupping a breast that Melissa’s hand shot up, pushing my head to the side.

“James… James, no, wait,” she panted.

I swallowed, regaining a measure of awareness. “Right. Not in your parents' house.”

Melissa’s chest heaved. “I was thinking more we’re real close to disrupting the salt circle here, which would sever the connection back to our kitchen. But yes, good call about my parents' place too, yes.”

We carefully disentangled ourselves. “Maybe later?” I said, half heartedly.

Melissa gave me a look. “James, remember earlier, when I said I only missed the casual sex a little bit?”

I nodded. I have a photographic memory, after all.

“I’m now realizing it was more than a bit,” she admitted. “Three weeks is a long time, even if I was on my period for part of it.”

I wasn’t sure if Melissa bringing that up was her being blunt, or an attempt to douse my flames of passion. Either way, I started tucking in my shirt. “Let’s say definitely later then,” I rephrased.

She smiled, then turned to the pantry door. “For now, I guess I go back and apologize. Let’s wait on hitting my parents with the Agency name plan until after mom’s pie though? And let’s not tell them about the technology idea at all… it’ll only upset my mother.”

“Okay then,” I said, managing to avoid saying how much Melissa seemed to be acting like her mother now. “You think it will take a lot of convincing?”

Melissa set her jaw. “I don’t care if it does. After all, I’m the one the Prophecy is impacting the most, and it’s my life.”

In the end, as soon as Marissa and Wayne saw how determined (stubborn?) Melissa was about her idea, her parents went along with us. Also, the dazzleberry pie was quite good. I only learned later that it was somehow a mix of both fruits and vegetables.

There was, incidentally, a compromise. Melissa also agreed to have a magick listening device in our apartment, to pick up on any kind of trouble, so her parents wouldn’t worry.

I suspected this was also Wayne’s way of keeping tabs on me. Given his suggestion that we still consider living apart, “just to try it out for a while longer”. But no, I’d had enough time away from Melissa, and by now I was more than happy to be be back in my girlfriend’s apartment. In fact, owing to Trixie’s presence, I was also permanently sharing Mel’s bed.

Now, mind out of the gutter, we weren’t having sex all the time. Not with her parents spying, and the wall between Melissa and Trixie’s room not being all that thick. Seriously, you can’t get any alone time in that kind of environment, not without a good soundproofing spell, one which doesn’t require constant concentration after casting.

Melissa does know one. That’s enough about that.

We spoke to Trixie on Sunday morning over breakfast. She had sounded like she was home when we returned late the previous night, but we decided not to disturb her.

After we came into the kitchen, I started by making Trixie promise not to make any commentary until we’d laid out the entire situation for her.

[caption id=“attachment_2345” align=“alignright” width=“186”] TRIXIE
Commission from Sen Yomi[/caption]

“I’ll save you time. If you’re getting married, and want me to be the maid of honour, no thanks,” Trixie said, munching on a waffle. She was eating it straight out of the toaster.

“This is not about the relationship between me and Mel,” I assured her. “Not directly.”

“You’re just kicking me out of here under some other pretext, is that it?”

“No.”

Melissa sighed. “Can you not make commentary about a promise to not make commentary? I mean really.”

Trixie sniffed. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot I was talking to the person who never commented about me at all for four years.”

I sidestepped, so that I was between them, but looking at the redhead. “Trixie, please?” I requested.

She looked at me, and took another bite of her waffle. For reference, at this point in the morning Trixie was not sporting twintails yet, but instead had yanked all her hair back into one ponytail that fell between her shoulder blades. It helped her look more mature.

“Tell you what, James,” Trixie decided, after chewing and swallowing. “I’ll do it under condition that I’m allowed to take you out for dinner this week.”

“Trix, you’re not dating my boyfriend,” Melissa objected.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I say date? I said dinner. I think James would appreciate one night of not having to deal with a blue cheese casserole with lemon juice, or whatever the heck it was I saw in the fridge last night.”

“Lime juice. It clears the sinuses,” Melissa grumbled. She was quieter though, I suppose annoyed that she’d been caught acting insecure.

I also had to admit that Trixie had a point. I’d tried to do as much of the cooking as I could when I lived here.

“We can go to dinner,” I agreed slowly. “As long as you’re aware that it won’t lead to anything.”

“Ooh, anything? Both of your minds are just in the gutter then, huh?” Trixie said. As if to capitalize on that, she made a point of adjusting the tall stockings she was wearing (even so, they still failed to reach the hem of her red skirt) and adjusting her white satin blouse (practically fluffing her cleavage).

It’s possible I stared at that a bit more than I should have.

“Agh, I wish we didn’t need her,” Melissa sighed behind me.

That helped snap me out of it, and when I turned to glance at Melissa, she was pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. I looked back at Trixie. “Okay, so let us explain,” I said. “No commentary.”

Trixie smiled, but nodded. And so Melissa and I laid out the whole Prophecy and Chosen One situation, along with the factions and the idea that someone - maybe Merlin - had been dealing with supernatural balance for centuries. Trixie’s smile faded, and I think she literally bit down on her tongue a couple times, but she kept up her end of the bargain.

“So with that said,” I eventually concluded, “we need your help with a couple things.” Trixie’s hand shot up, implying she wanted to talk first.

“Go ahead,” I yielded.

Trixie took in a deep breath, then let it out. “Okay, hold on.” She walked all the way around Melissa, who incidentally had merely pulled on another pair of jeans and an oversized green T-shirt after getting up.

“Okay,” Trixie began again. “So you’re telling me that Missy, my plain looking, fashion impaired, socially backwards witch cousin… is going to be single-handedly responsible for deciding whether Earth goes all Shadowrun??”

“Don’t overdramatize,” Melissa said in annoyance. “And what do running shadows have to do with it?”

“Shadowrun. It’s a roleplay game where cybernetics meets urban fantasy. Supernatural creatures and technology, living together. More culture you’ve missed out on.”

“You roleplay?” I said to Trixie in surprise. I didn’t know Shadowrun, but I knew what she was getting at. She hadn’t really struck me as the type of person able to work well in a group.

“Well, no,” the redhead admitted. She shifted her gaze away from me then. “I read fanfic. There’s not much point roleplaying, because I’d never be able to generate a character more interesting than I already am.”

“I’m sure,” Melissa said dryly. “You also seem to think you can get whatever you like by giggling and looking cute, which I imagine is more difficult to manage online.”

“Oh pssh,” Trixie said dismissively, waving her arm. “I get whatever I like by using my high IQ of 151. The giggling and looking cute merely makes other people – especially men – feel better about surrendering themselves to my intellect.”

“You mean surrendering themselves to your–”

“We’re straying from the point,” I insisted, before Melissa could finish her thought. “Namely that, Trixie, do you think your mind would be capable of coding up some sort of artificial intelligence, which would be capable of handling the world’s supernatural balance issues in Melissa’s place?”

The ponytailed witch snapped her gaze over towards me, shocked. She opened her mouth as if to respond, then closed it, then opened it again, then her brow furrowed. “Euh.”

“See, James, I told you this would be beyond our capabilities to resolve in three months,” Melissa said.

“Shut up, Melissa, I’m thinking,” Trixie snapped.

Not Missy, Melissa. This was one of the first times for me to see Trixie going into full-on serious mode. Even as I processed this, she began mumbling to herself.

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 4b: OF PARENTS AND PROGRAMMING

“Are you saying rationals because their arguments will always be rational?” I wondered.

Marissa rolled her eyes. “No, more because they rationalize."

“And the last group is the Worshippers,” Wayne finished. “Those who believe you’re the greatest thing since slicing bread, or whatever. Their logic is that if they grant Melissa prayers and favours now, good fortune will shine upon them no matter how the final decision comes down.”

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

Mel’s expression morphed into one of disbelief, a good approximation of how her mother had appeared a few minutes earlier. “Worship ME? But how could anyone…” She paused, looked in my direction, then back to her parents. “I mean, that still makes no sense. I didn’t open a supernatural agency for more notoriety, and most clients find me, um, abrasive.”

“Sometimes you’ve got to tell it like it is,” Wayne said, nodding.

“Also, some men like strong women,” Marissa said, with a hint of a smile. She then glanced in my direction too.

“Hey, well, Trixie will ensure that any public adoration doesn’t go to your head,” I offered, trying to find a way to reassure my girlfriend, not to mention move the spotlight away from me. “For however long she’s around the Agency.”

“Ah, yes, about that,” Marissa said. “Melissa dear, you probably shouldn’t operate your supernatural agency over the next three months. It would be like painting a target on yourself. In fact, part of the reason we wanted you here now was to get you to start laying low, where none of those various factions will be able to find you.”

“I also think it’s best if you don’t see James from this point on,” Wayne added, looking sidelong at me. “As much for his safety as anything else, otherwise people may use him to try and influence you.”

Mel bristled. “Wait. Are you asking me to stay here for several months, while you send James away to shut down my Agency?”

“It’s an option,” her father agreed. “Plus, if things go wrong in three months time, you might not be able to continue your relationships anyway, so I think it’s best to end them now, at a time of your choosing.”

“MY choosing?” Mel yelped.

“Don’t worry about what your father says, darling, things won’t go wrong,” Marissa said, glaring at her husband pointedly. “You see how practical this is though, yes?”

I should mention here that, as of this point in my life, I had only seen Mel suffer an emotional breakdown once before. It had happened when dealing with one of her old high school friends, Eric, who had been attempting to contact people from beyond the grave. Some lines you just should not cross, and Mel had been forced to cross those lines herself when dealing with both Eric and another witch named Melody.

That case, coupled with being confronted with her controlling nature at an inopportune time, had almost devastated Mel. Yet at this point in the meal (if you can still call it a meal), I wondered if my girlfriend was about to suffer a second meltdown.

“So,” the young brunette said coldly, and I’d say only barely managing to rein in the emotions I’d seen flickering across her face. “In one shot, you’ve come back into my life, only to suggest I eliminate my livelihood, my boyfriend, and even my choice in deciding how this Prophecy thing will play out,” she said. Her jaw clenched, and I could picture her hands curling and uncurling into fists under the level of the table too. “Do I have that right, mother? Father? Tell me I don’t have that right.”

Her parents didn’t immediately answer, choosing instead to exchange glances one more time.

“She’s not wrong,” Wayne said at last.

Marissa winced. “Well…”

“Both of you, go to hell,” Mel exploded at that, standing up. She threw her napkin down onto the table and stormed out of the room before either of them had a chance to speak again.

Marissa’s expression was now much the same as when her daughter had used sarcasm. “Wayne dear, what was that?”

“A tantrum?” Wayne mused in surprise. “She’s never done that before. What happened to the calm, rational teenager we raised?” His gaze slid to me.

“Your daughter grew up,” I pointed out. “While you were off trying to make her decisions for her.”

Realizing such a comment may have been overstepping my bounds (not to mention thinking a fast exit would be prudent without Mel around to back me up) I added, “But let me go and talk to her for you.”

I rose and swiftly headed out after the girl I’d fallen in love with.

As I left, I heard Marissa say to her husband, sounding very irritated: “I told you we should have eaten the pie first.”

I found Melissa curled up into a ball in the pantry, having pulled a tissue out of her handbag for dabbing at her eyes, though I didn’t see any tear streaks.

She looked up as I entered, her expression momentarily angry, until she registered who I was, at which point she merely hooked her arms a little tighter around her legs and stared back at the floor.

There was barely enough room for me to sit down next to her without disturbing the salt circle, but that’s what I did. I then waited, to let her have the first word.

“I forgot I didn’t have a proper room to storm off to here,” Melissa admitted eventually. “What with my parents having moved. This was all I could think of.”

“Just as well, I only know how to navigate three rooms in your parents’ place too.”

She snickered. “I suppose I should have actually practiced this back when I was a teenager. Were my parents confused?”

“Surprised,” I stated. “I came to find you myself, by the way, they didn’t send me.”

The brunette witch turned to look at me again. “The worst of it is, despite what I said, I don’t think I can really blame my parents. They’re on my side here, looking out for me, like always. The problem is this Prophecy nonsense.”

“Which they kept secret from you,” I pointed out.

“Out of concern,” Melissa insisted. “And to do research.”

I nodded. “Okay, so they may be looking out for you, but you really should get to have a say in their decisions,” I added. “I mean, imagine where we’d be if my parents had unilaterally decided to find me different lodgings three years ago, rather than letting me stay with you over the summer. Our whole relationship would never have happened.”

“I guess,” Melissa said dubiously. “But I want to keep you from being a target, and keep myself from being some object of worship, just as much as my parents do. They know that.” She hugged herself even tighter before releasing her legs. “I’m going to have to agree to stay, aren’t I.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” I insisted. “There’s always options, so let’s take a moment to think about this.”

Melissa sat quietly for a short time, then shook her head. “I can’t concentrate. I’m still reeling at how supernatural balance, the thing I’ve been striving to maintain, is suddenly being handed over to me to fix. Me! I didn’t expect to have the whole world on my shoulders when I got up this morning.”

“It’s not really something you can prepare for,” I granted. “Of course, if this plan of your parents works, you may not have to make the decision. That’s the real problem here, isn’t it? That they’re taking this opportunity away?”

She didn’t answer, but I like to think I know Melissa pretty well by now.

I reached out to grasp her by the hand. “Mel, don’t think about this, but right now, off the top of your head, tell me, DO want to be the one to make that call?”

“Gods no.”

“But do you think you’re the right one to make that call?”

“Yes.” She seemed surprised by her own admission.

“There you go then,” I concluded, releasing her. “Now we need to think about why. How about you start with that.”

Her lips pursed slightly. “Huh. I… I guess… if I was chosen out of everybody on Earth, I feel like it means something. Like the Agency means something. Like, not that I should be worshipped, but that my work is important. And that if I pass the buck to someone else on this one, I’d be shirking my responsibility.”

“Stuff like this happens for a reason, even if it’s one that’s not immediately obvious,” I attempted to rephrase.

Melissa nodded. “Not to bring religion or fate into this, but yeah.”

“Which way would your decision go then?”

“Well, towards keeping the balance, obviously,” Melissa replied. “Order above chaos. Thing is, I don’t think I’m ready to handle being a Merlin. I’m barely into my twenties, and now I’ll be doing the balancing job myself, out in the ether, for some indeterminate amount of time? That’s huge.”

“Then what’s wrong with the solution offered by your parents? Surely Merlin is ready to handle being Merlin, and in the end, supernatural balance will still be restored. This will also give the witches of the world time to figure out a better solution, because the situation seems to be getting more press than it was 300 years ago.”

Melissa pushed her legs out, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, when you put it that way, there’s no issue.”

“Yet there’s something.”

“Yet there’s something,” she repeated back. “It’s weird. The more I think about it, the more I don’t think my parents' plan is going to work. I can’t put my finger on why.” She frowned. “I wish they’d given me more time to figure it out by myself. Three months isn’t enough time.”

“Okay. So their idea won’t work, but you’re not sure if you can restore order all by yourself,” I summarized. “Meaning we simply come up with a new plan by ourselves.”

She turned to stare at me, smirking. “Oh, right, as easy as that?”

“Why not? I don’t think you’ve lost a supernatural case yet, Mel.”

“There was that one last year, with the pixies.”

I shook my head. “You gave that up voluntarily. Besides, being this Chosen One probably gives you a certain degree of extra insight.” She still looked a bit dubious, so I tossed in, “We can even make it official Agency business, bringing Trixie and her IQ in on it, if that would help.”

“Joy,” Melissa said dryly, I suspect trying to determine if I was joking. “I don’t think Trixie will save the day, James. She’s more into technology, the very thing interfering with my parents’ spell. The only way that girl would be useful is if…” Her voice trailed off, and Melissa looked thoughtful.

“I hope you’re not proposing sacrificing her,” I joked after a minute.

“Don’t tempt me,” Melissa murmured. “No, it’s the technology aspect. Could there be some way of writing a program to handle supernatural balance in my place?”

I blinked in surprise. “Artificial intelligence?”

“Kinda? I mean, it would require integrating technology with magick, but Trixie’s already managed that, insofar as her Rixi is linked to her storage space. That’s not a common thing by the way. For all her shortcomings, even I have to admit that, from a technical standpoint, she really is brilliant.”

I nodded. “Okay, so programming may be the answer. Which doesn’t have to be Trixie. Maybe your parents would be better at handling it?”

Melissa laughed. “Oh, Gods, no, my dad’s even more of a technophobe than me, and by now my mom is dead set on her way of doing things, seeing as she’s invested so much in it already.” She tapped her finger on the floor. “But maybe, another techno-witch…?”

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 4a: OF PARENTS AND PROGRAMMING

“But why target me?” Mel said, the frustration in her voice obvious to me, and likely everyone in the room.

Marissa sighed. “Melissa, if we tell you, do you promise that you’ll continue to let us handle it our way?”

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

“Oh, of course, seeing as your way seems to involve me continually getting attacked,” Mel grumbled.

This time Marissa simply looked startled. “Melissa, did you just get… sarcastic with us?” Marissa shifted her look of disbelief on to me, her expression morphing into one of disapproval. Her father also looked my way.

Caught under the microscope, I found I could only shrug and smile back wanly. “Yeah, maybe she picked that up from me?” I said apologetically.

“Well, this is what we wanted. Less pure analysis, more emotionalism,” Wayne remarked, briefly drumming his fingers on the table.

“Perhaps we should have been monitoring the situation more closely though,” Marissa said, frowning in concern. “Oracles don’t get sarcasm, they take that sort of thing very literally.”

“Well, you know what I think we should have done all along,” Wayne countered, ceasing his drumming to cross his arms.

“Don’t be silly, dear, she’d have spotted a magick listening device in her apartment from a mile away.”

“Hello! Still in the room,” Mel said, seemingly gaining strength as her anger and exasperation started to bubble over. “What. Aren’t. You. Telling. Me.”

As a matter of fact, the way the tables had been completely turned on her usual know-it-all attitude, this might have been humorous under other circumstances. Poor Mel really was out of her element here.

Marissa sighed again. “Very well. Melissa, darling… in about three months time, you will be given a choice. Namely whether to have the supernatural balance of Earth completely restored, or completely shattered.”

Mel peered closer at Marissa, looking for a hint of deception.

“In the former case,” Mel’s mother clarified, “the rules would again be fully enforced, no magick would be done without appropriate consequences, and other realms would be completely shut out, preventing bleed over. In the latter case, supernatural beings would be seen with increasing frequency, and magick could be done not only by more individuals, but wielded against those without implicit consent.”

Mel made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Well, that’s a no brainer. Given order or chaos, I pick order. Let’s do it now and get it over with.”

“Unluckily, it’s not quite so cut and dried,” her father said, frowning. “For one thing, maybe the world could use a little shake-up before everyone becomes tied to the supernatural that at present exists only in their little electronic virtual worlds. While automation keeps taking over every industry, and destroying people’s imaginations.”

“Another rather more key fact,” Marissa put in, “is that if you choose to restore the balance – Melissa, you’re the one who will have to monitor and maintain that balance. Indefinitely.”

Mel stared at her parents before shaking her head. “You’ve lost me.”

“Go back to Merlin,” Wayne suggested.

“We don’t know that it’s Merlin,” his wife countered. “All we know for sure is that there is actually someone doing that job now, and that they’ve been doing it for hundreds of years. Trouble is, over time, they’ve lost perspective, and possibly their magick has become corrupted.”

“Which Merlin was smart enough to foresee,” Wayne remarked, stubbornly insisting on using the name. “Hence why he put in this ‘give a promising young witch or wizard a chance to make a choice’ clause that we’re currently faced with. Melissa, you’ll probably want to do the same, if you take over his job.”

With that, Wayne picked up his fork and cut into his pie.

“Dear, how can you eat at a time like this?” Marissa said.

“Hey, now that the truth is out there, I actually feel a whole lot better,” Wayne countered with a shrug. “Not to mention, still hungry.”

Mel still looked a bit uncertain about the whole thing, so I decided to speak up again. “Can I see if I have the gist of this?” I asked. Everyone turned to look at me, and no one objected to my speaking. “So, back in the 12th century, Merlin…”

“Fifth,” Wayne interrupted. “While his stories were from the 12th century, the actual events surrounding Merlin occurred about 700 years before.”

“And we don’t know it was Merlin,” Marissa reminded.

“So, many centuries ago, someone decided that they would monitor the supernatural balance on Earth,” I continued doggedly. “Or possibly they decided to take the job over from someone else, starting at that point. But said person knew that they couldn’t keep it up forever, thus put in some magick clause. And now, in our present, another will be Chosen to either dissolve the position entirely, or take over.”

“Correct,” Marissa said.

I leaned in. “Is it fair to extrapolate, and say that the increase in supernatural incursions over the last few years or decades is because of the current office holder starting to fail at their job?”

“Also likely,” Marissa agreed.

Wayne didn’t respond, as he was now eating his pie.

“Is there some significance as to why August of this year is the turnover?” I continued.

“Not that we’ve been able to determine. Seems random,” answered Mel’s mother.

“Why ME?” Mel said, speaking up again. “I mean, this seems huge. Shouldn’t this be the sort of thing decided by someone older? Or by a full committee, or voted on by a majority of Earth’s population or something?”

“Only one person gets to run this show,” Marissa said in resignation. “As to why you were one of those chosen to receive the earlier Prophecy, and in fact now seem to be the selected Chosen One, all I can say is that power seeks out those who won’t abuse it. Among those, you’ve apparently seemed the most fanatic, or the most insightful, with respect to issues of supernatural balance.”

“The spell needed to choose someone young too,” Wayne said offhandedly between bites. “Given the job takes centuries, you’ll want to start early. Then again, maybe there was a lack of correction factor for how long people live these days?”

“So, then… I have three months to decide whether I want this job, or whether I want to plunge the Earth into chaos,” Melissa said, numbly.

“Well, that’s just it, not necessarily,” Marissa said, now looking a bit happier. “We’ve found a work-around. A spell which can be performed to re-energize the person already managing the supernatural balance.”

“Merlin,” Wayne noted, with his mouth half full of pie.

Marissa shot her husband a look before continuing. “The spell itself will reverse any magick corruption and put off the problem for several centuries, getting you off the hook.” She smiled at her daughter.

“Put that way, it seems like we’re merely delaying the situation, sticking it on someone else,” Mel pointed out.

“Well, yes," Marissa yielded. “But if you ask me, that’s what was happening anyway. As things are now, you’d end up on the hook for handing the balancing act, until you’d also have to look towards sticking the problem on someone else. With our plan, the only difference is that we skip over your involvement, so that you can live out a proper life.”

I shook my head. It didn’t seem like passing the buck could be as easy as Marissa made it out to be. Otherwise surely this solution would have been attempted already. I said as much, also suggesting, “Is it that the spell itself is incredibly complicated?”

“Oh no,” Marissa said dismissively. “Spell’s fairly simple, just needs about five people to cast. They do give up some of their own essence, but we already found some volunteers for that, myself included.”

“Then what’s the twist?” I pressed.

“The spell can’t be focused onto the right place while there’s electronic devices functioning on the planet,” Wayne said, dropping his fork back down onto his empty plate. “There’s your twist, it’s all about the bloody tech. Well, and related to that, there’s the fact that this spell hasn’t been cast in 300 years, but it seems legit.”

I stared. “You mean to make this work, you have to hit the Earth with some kind of giant electromagnetic pulse first??” I said in shock.

“Oh, of course not, that would be terribly irresponsible,” Wayne objected, shaking his head. “Planes dropping out of the sky, life support machines failing, food spoiling in refrigerators…”

“We have found a way of shutting down, or rather, suspending the entire world’s electronic infrastructure,” Marissa cut back in. “With another spell. For only the couple of seconds we need. But the coordination involved in that is rather intense; we’re still pulling together a group of people both willing and able to invoke it.”

“So that’s the more difficult spell,” I realized.

“Partly,” Marissa yielded. “Also, it’s been determined that the optimal time to shut down all electronics is right around the time when the prophecy decision is going to be handed down anyway.”

“Globally speaking, we need a time with the fewest vehicles on the road, the least number of surgical operations in progress, all those sorts of variables,” Wayne muttered. “And yet it’s always daylight somewhere, so there’s lots to coordinate.”

“I have wondered if the timing of both events is not coincidence,” Marissa admitted. “A calmer time also being good for handing over the responsibility of the balance, assuming it’s not released entirely.”

Mel cleared her throat. “But then, what you’re saying is that I won’t have to make this decision after all.”

“That’s the plan, yes,” Marissa agreed with a smile.

“So what if I want to?”

Marissa’s smile faded. “Anyone wanting to make such a decision probably shouldn’t. But even so, Melissa, why would you take on such a huge responsibility? Honestly, we’d rather hoped to have it all figured out by now, such that you wouldn’t have had to deal with ANY of the Prophecy’s consequences, chief among them being those beings trying to kill you. Obviously, we’ve fallen short. For that, we are sorry.”

The young witch’s forehead creased slightly. “You were going to tell me all this either way though, yes?” There was a pause as her parents exchanged glances yet another time. “YES?”

“Doing that would have been the responsible choice, of course,” Wayne seemed to hedge. “As I’m sure you would have worked it all out eventually.”

Mel’s mother went for a slight shift in the topic. “So as things stand, Melissa, I’m afraid you’re liable to be accosted by three types of people over the summer. Based on our research, and owing to the three-month window between your official nomination, as it were, and the actual decision.”

“Oh, this should be good,” Mel sighed.

“The first group, as you saw, is the crazy ones, who believe that killing you will resolve this entire supernatural balance problem,” Wayne said, seizing the topic shift.

“Will it?” Mel interjected.

“No, darling, don’t be silly,” Marissa said, gesturing vaguely. “The decision would just pass on to one of the other Chosen Ones in the world, we said there were a few. But I suppose when you’re crazy, you think you can eliminate them all, or perhaps it’s merely that they believe one of the others would have viewpoints more compatible with them.”

“Who knows, when you don’t perceive reality properly?” Wayne muttered. “Figures one of them would be a lycan.”

“Couldn’t one of the other possible Chosen Ones send out a hit squad or something too?” I interjected. “To take out Mel and the other candidates?”

“It’s unlikely that they’d want to pull the attention towards themselves,” Marissa pointed out. “But even if that were the case, the Prophecy itself would then reject them as being a suitable candidate for deciding the balance.”

“Merlin still has some control,” Wayne agreed.

Marissa looked towards her husband. “Would you stop already with the Merl–”

“We’re getting off track,” Mel interjected. “Who are the other groups? Who will be after me, aside from the Crazies?”

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 3e: OF LYCANS AND PROPHECIES

Once I could see inside, I took note of the circle of salt on the floor. “Ah! Teleporting,” I concluded. Not to be confused with a circle of flour, used for transformations.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

“Seemed easiest," Melissa said. “They actually moved away from the town I grew up in, once I graduated from high school. They also prefer to keep to themselves, so infrequent teleportation visits not only mean I can find them anywhere, but that they can continue to keep people from tracking them down using more routine methods. Like following me.”

I moved into the kitchen. “I suppose their reclusive ways explains why I’ve never met them before,” I remarked.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, they get out and do stuff like normal people,” Melissa assured. “They just tend to do so in other guises. They were at my University graduation last year, for example.”

I blinked. “What? When?”

“That time I went over to talk to what I said was a couple of my former classmates. It was actually my parents.”

“Your parents…” I searched my memory. “The couple of twentysomethings with dark hair and tie dyed shirts…??”

“That was them. Made to look thirty years younger, of course.” Melissa pressed an index finger to the side of her mouth. “Come to think, they’re a bit quirky too, by your definition. Hereditary trait?”

“I guess this will be interesting then,” was all I could think to say.

Melissa smiled reassuringly as we moved into the circle. “Don’t worry about it. Now, as soon as my parents have mentally given their consent for teleport, the spell should activ—”

I found myself in another salt circle, seemingly in a pantry. In fact, the box of salt that had been used for the circle was still right in front of me.

Melissa had remained with me, and setting her handbag aside, she dusted her hands off on her jeans before heading out into the next room, which had to be the kitchen. I poked my head around the door a little more tentatively.

“Hello, mother,” Melissa said brightly, hugging the woman standing by the stove.

“Melissa, darling, good to have you back… and that must be James?”

“Uhm, hey,” I said, stepping out and waving as I realized I’d been seen.

Perhaps it’s a cliché to say this, but Melissa’s mother really did look like an older version of her daughter. Same wavy brown hair, if a bit shorter, same piercing green eyes… I suppose Marissa had an inch of extra height, but other than that…

Then again, I guess you could say their choices of attire were different too. Melissa’s mother actually sported a floor length dress in pale yellow, a contrast to her daughter’s jeans and green t-shirt.

(And if any of you are wondering why, given that this tale is using changed names, I picked ones that were so similar for the Melissa/Marissa, their real names were also very similar. Deal with it. Though, fair point, text medium, no visuals… maybe I’ll refer to Melissa as Mel for this portion of the tale? And I’ll fix this in editing.)

I paused here, not sure if Mel was going to do introductions, but I suppose she figured she’d taken care of that before the teleport. “So, um, do you prefer Marissa or Mrs. Virga?” I asked.

“Eventually you can call me Judge and Jury,” the older Virga quipped. “Though Marissa is fine for now.”

Said in a very non-confrontational tone, so maybe she had some of the humour that I’d always felt I had to teach to her daughter.

“We’re working up to Executioner, huh?” I responded in kind.

“I’m the Executioner,” came a voice from behind me.

I turned, to see what had to be Wayne Black entering the room. A huge contrast to Mel, he was just below six feet tall, wearing a dress shirt and black tie, leading me to wonder if my golf shirt was a bit too informal here. He had what might be described as chiseled good looks, including shorter dark hair with no real sign of baldness (are there spells to handle that?), and he was wearing glasses while carrying a newspaper.

Mel also has a pair of reading glasses, so maybe that was from his side of the family. Of more immediate concern, his tone had held none of the lightheartedness of his wife, making me swallow.

“Wayne, dear, give us a chance to work up to that,” Marissa said. I glanced back in her direction; now I could no longer tell if she was joking or not.

“Yeah, uh… is there a room where I can sit down? Out of the way?” I asked.

“I can show you both to the sitting room,” Wayne offered.

“Well, only if there’s nothing I can help with here,” Mel put in. “Any vegetables to chop or herbs to enchant?”

“It’s fine,” Marissa assured her daughter. “We’re actually going more traditional for James’ sake, with a lasagna. That said you’re welcome to add some marmalade to your individual salad course; I think I will.”

Checkmark for where Mel might have gotten her dining habits.

Around this point I realized I was classifying her personal quirks merely out of nerves, and decided I should stop that and think of an actual topic of conversation instead. Unfortunately, the only things coming to mind were sports or the weather. And geographically, I didn’t even know where on Earth we were. The kitchen didn’t have any windows.

“Let’s head to the next room then,” Wayne repeated.

With no other suggestions, this seemed as good an option as anything.

I lucked out a bit though, in that Mel started chatting with her dad about her latest case about the vampyre, and from there we went to Wayne’s line of work and some of his recent customers, so I didn’t have to do much talking. Even the few questions Mel’s dad pitched at me didn’t seem out of line, related to my degree or my feelings towards his daughter, so I was starting to feel much more relaxed by the time Marissa called us to the dinner table.

We each sat across from our respective partners, the table itself being closer to a square in shape than a long rectangle.

It was during dinner that I realized there was something not quite right. Namely, Mel’s parents were avoiding certain topics. Mel had mentioned the Prophecy thing twice by now, and in each case the subject was changed.

She didn’t seem to have noticed.

Wayne and Marissa also seemed to be gently probing into her relationship with me for more than her job situation, and I saw her father’s gaze seem hopeful when she mentioned how we’d just spent three weeks apart. Only for it to turn disapproving when it became obvious that we’d had intimate relations already. As Marissa served the dessert – some sort of pie – I finally couldn’t keep my suspicions to myself.

“Okay, help me out here,” I said. “Is there a chance Mel is actually some sort of Chosen One, to the point where you’re concerned about my relationship with her? Because you seem to be avoiding any direct discussion about that.”

Mel shot me a look of gratitude then, helping me to realize that she’d picked up on something of the sort, but had been hesitant to challenge her parents on it.

Wayne and Marissa exchanged a glance.

“Your answer is yes, and we’re thinking maybe you shouldn’t see each other for the next few months,” her father responded.

“Wayne, we were going to wait until after the dazzleberry pie,” his wife admonished.

“He brought it up,” her husband pointed out.

Marissa sighed. “You didn’t have to answer so bluntly.”

“Not see each other? Excuse me, you were going to tell me this exactly WHEN?” Mel demanded.

“After the pie, dear,” Marissa soothed. “Is it so bad? You’ve been apart for all these weeks already.”

“He’s already moved his stuff back in,” Mel countered. “Why would you even tell me how to live my life all of a sudden? That’s not like you.”

Marissa exchanged a glance with her husband. “Honestly, we were hoping to have the Prophecy problem solved by now.”

“Bloody technological advancements of the human race,” Wayne groused.

“Hi, sorry. Maybe you should back up to the beginning?” I requested, slowly raising my hand. I knew I’d be lost otherwise.

Her parents looked to me, and Marissa finally pushed her pie a short distance away so that she could clasp her hands on the table. “Very well. Do I assume you already know about the Prophecy that led my daughter to start up her agency, James?”

I blinked. “Um, no,” I admitted, bringing my hand back down.

I supposed I’d never asked. And while Mel wasn’t as uncommunicative as she’d been when we met, as you’ve seen, she still doesn’t tend to volunteer information.

“That wasn’t exactly a Prophecy,” Mel countered. She turned to look at me too. “It’s more a psychic reading that magick families can avail themselves of, once their children turn eighteen. I’d been trying to decide whether I should focus my supernatural interests in a more spiritual way, or a more practical one.”

“We thought it would provide guidance,” Marissa agreed.

“According to my reading,” Mel continued, “I ‘was destined to play a lead role in restoring supernatural balance’. So I went the practical route, with the agency. But these readings, they’re really just mystical fortune cookies, if slightly more accurate ones. You can interpret them to be true or not.”

“Except very few get the particular sort of reading Melissa got,” Wayne rumbled.

“Or to go with my daughter’s analogy,” Marissa put in, looking at me, “it’s like the back of her fortune had the winning lotto numbers on it. If she wanted to play them.”

Mel turned to stare at her mother. “You never told me that.”

“No, well, we knew you wanted to finish your degree, and we had a good deal of thinking to do,” Marissa continued. “That’s part of the reason we went traveling, and took a step away from your life. We figured we needed some perspective.”

“We were able to determine that at least one or two other people had received that same Prophecy style message, in other parts of the world,” Wayne stated. “And ultimately, what it meant in terms of the big picture.” He went silent.

“Which was…?” I prompted.

Wayne looked to his wife. Marissa cleared her throat. “Are we sure we wouldn’t like some pie before we get into this?”

“Mother, what did it mean?” Mel said firmly. She was using that no-nonsense tone in her voice, the one that can get a person to obey without thinking about it.

“Melissa Temetum Virga, do you REALLY want to know?” her mother countered. And though Marissa’s voice was barely above a whisper, the words were delivered with all the force of a jet engine. Hell, her tone sent chills up MY spine, and the comment hadn’t even been directed at me.

Obviously this speechifying was a family trait, and Mel’s mother didn’t like that Mel had tried to use it on her.

Mel immediately looked to me like a five year old with her hand caught in the cookie jar. Meaning not only was she in trouble, but worse, she felt that there was no possible chance of escape. She actually squirmed in her chair, an action I would never have thought possible for someone as in control as she was.

“I…”

And then Mel looked to me. Me, with her eyes pleading, as if begging me to ask the question that had been stolen from her lips. (Lesson learned, do NOT get pushy with Marissa Virga.)

“I think what Melissa means,” I attempted diplomatically, fearing Marissa turning her gaze upon me, “is that this so-called Prophecy is affecting her life now, what with vampyres and lycans attacking based on her name.”

Or at least, her first and last name. Though you should look up the latin for her middle name sometime too – I used the real one - it’s rather informative. Or at least it was for me.

“Mmm. Disturbingly accurate, that three month timeline,” Wayne mused. “If we’d known, we’d have had you come by here a day or so earlier.”

Her father’s voice seemed to give Mel the courage to speak again. “Then I am being targeted,” she concluded.

“You are, and it won’t get any better,” Wayne affirmed.

I felt like this did not bode well for us.

END ACT 3

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 3d: OF LYCANS AND PROPHECIES

“Reality bites, huh?” I offered at last, when Amy didn’t say anything. Amy laughed weakly at that. “Yeah, if it’s not my own internet success tripping me up, it’s having my childhood dreams of genies torn apart.”

My face fell. “I’m sorry. I just meant about the magic school thing being beyond you.”

She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Bah, don’t look at me that way, James, I’m being melodramatic. I must confess though, part of the reason I went along with your parents to meet you that first day was because, deep down, I’d hoped their casual dismissal of a ‘supernatural detective agency’ wasn’t necessarily something to be dismissed.” She brought her hand back to rub at her neck. “Of course, your work wasn’t at ALL what I’d expected it to be.”

I tried to smile. “I’d love to say I’ll stick around to help you through it, but… uh…”

“It’s not going to work out between us.” Amy’s tone was as matter-of-fact as Melissa’s, but her expression was anything but neutral. “Because I can’t deal with this stuff like you, and I think you’ve missed having the magic around. Or Melissa. Or maybe they’re one and the same in your mind?”

I coughed. I hadn’t thought of things that way. “I’m sorry if I kept talking about her.”

Amy shook her head. “Don’t be. I’m sorry I ignored the signals.”

“I guess I did too.” I edged a bit closer. Amy was still my friend (I hoped), and she looked so sad that I wanted to hug her. But I worried that it would give off the wrong signals.

“Live and learn,” she concluded.

Perhaps sensing my awkwardness, Amy bridged the distance then, and the two of us met in an embrace. She buried her face for a moment in my shoulder, and when she pulled back, her eyes were misty but her expression overall seemed more composed.

“Just be careful out there, okay James? It really doesn’t seem safe. At the least, it certainly puts my concerns over internet criticism in perspective.” She pursed her lips. “And, can I be honest with you?"

I nodded. “Please do. Friends should be honest with each other.”

Amy chuckled, accepting the label. “Okay then. Thing is… I’m not sure that Melissa’s the best choice for keeping you emotionally stable. I don’t mean she’s a bad person, but in particular if there are people - or beings or whatever - out there after her… but look, I grant that I haven’t known her for as long as you have, so there is that too.”

“Yeah, well, Melissa’s…” I fumbled for a word. “Unique.”

“Everyone is,” she reminded me. “You are too. Make sure she realizes that, and that she doesn’t take advantage of your good nature. She may not even do it intentionally.”

“Uh… yeah, okay.”

Amy shook her finger at me. “I mean it, James. As one friend to another. Make sure that you’re happier with Melissa than you are without her, before you commit yourself long term. Yes?”

I shifted on the bed. “Okay.”

“Good.”

We hugged again, quickly, and then Amy got out of the bed, insisting I at least get some sleep there, despite my protests. I passed out shortly thereafter, discovering in the morning that Amy had apparently done the same at some point, while sitting slumped over the desk, next to her lamp.

We were asked the next day by the motel management whether we had heard anything during the night, with respect to vandalism at their pool. I hedged, saying I’d heard something around midnight, and pointing out that my car window had also been smashed. They simply responded how they weren’t responsible for damage done on their property, as per the agreement I’d signed.

So, as far as I’m concerned, this can be an unsolved mystery for them. Particularly given the fact that Trixie told me Melissa answered “Lycan” when they’d asked the same question of her, and they dismissed her as a crazy person.

The rest of Saturday was a bit of a blur.

I got Amy back to our hometown, and then dropped in to see my parents, to let them know that I’d made my decision as far as returning to Melissa. You really don’t want me to bother transcribing that, mostly just my Mom asking whether I was REALLY sure, along with my Dad’s resigned acceptance, provided that I made sure this was something I could make a living at.

He suggested adding my name to Melissa’s agency. More on that later.

I then headed out with a lot of my essential items, bringing them back to Melissa’s apartment. Or rather, back to what felt more like my home, as I’d stayed there right through University.

Remember, if this return to living with her seems rushed, I had dinner with the Virgas on my schedule now, and I kind of wanted to be moved back in by then.

I was brought up short upon my arrival though, discovering that Trixie had, in fact, fully moved in over the past couple weeks, taking over my old room. We still had an hour before meeting up with her parents, so Melissa gave me the whole story.

Apparently the (at present) nineteen year old techno-witch had decided that schooling had nothing more to teach her after her high school graduation, and had subsequently spent more than a year doing mad science in her room while generally driving her parents crazy.

As such, Trixie’s parents had been only too keen to pawn her off on Melissa when she’d called up for technical advice with Amy’s stalker. Meaning for the moment, Trixie didn’t have anywhere else to go.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

“Two weeks ago, I thought having a technical consultant in house would be a good plan,” Melissa admitted. “At the time, I didn’t realize she’d be such a pain in the ass, and it’ll take some time before we can get rid of her.”

“It’s fine," I assured Melissa. “Besides, she was helpful in terms of the garlic and vampyre, so she can’t be as bad as all that.”

“Helpful, but a little last minute in terms of the deduction,” Melissa countered.

“To be fair, we didn’t see a connection either."

Melissa crossed her arms. “Okay, but maybe she’d have figured it out sooner if she wasn’t busy trying to seduce all our other prospective clients.”

I frowned. “I’m not sure those things are connected. Also, she what?”

“I’m talking about that thing Trixie does with getting guys to look at her huge rack, despite dressing like she’s too young to have it. She told me she showed you that pose, yes?”

I tried to think of a good way to answer that, and decided to be evasive. “I think I know what you mean. But not all our former clients were male, and how many have you even had in the past two weeks for Trixie to pull this on?”

Melissa sniffed. “Like, two. Maybe three. Only one case was actually supernatural. Look, James, clients aside, I’m not blind to the fact that Trixie’s personality is quirky like mine, except she’s funnier, and prettier than me. I’m just saying, if you and her try to run off and start a rival Agency, she’ll be a problem for you, so I wouldn’t.”

I peered at Melissa a bit closer. “Hold on. Mel, are you being evasive too?”

Melissa’s cheeks went a bit pink. “Yes. Yes, okay, fine. What I’m saying is don’t have sex with Trixie, despite her being available in your old room. Okay, James?”

“Whoa.” I coughed. “Are you saying that in a ‘hands off my young cousin’ way or in the sense that you think me and her–”

“Trixie’s not a virgin, she’s only a couple years younger - despite how she dresses - and I think she’s into you,” Melissa clarified. “Though, while we’re on the subject, the fact that she’s my cousin makes a threesome out of the question.”

I had to look away from her serious expression, rubbing my forehead for cover. “Oy. Mel, remember, Trixie has hit me multiple times. I don’t think she’s keen on me.”

“James, you’re being your wonderfully naive self,” Melissa insisted. “In smacking you, Trixie was taking the time to clue you in, rather than tune you out. You don’t help someone if you hate them. I think maybe I was singing your praises too much this past week too, which helped make her interested.”

“Okay, well, even if you’re right–” Composing myself, I fully turned back. “Mel, your cousin is not the one I’ve fallen in love with. That’s you. You don’t have anything to worry about, no matter how much your cousin might want to develop a love-hate relationship with me.”

I smiled, hoping that sounded as sincere as I felt. I worried that my earlier facial expression resembled that of your stereotypical guy in the movies who’s been blindsided with the old ‘were you looking at that woman?’ schtick.

“Right. Okay.” Melissa bobbed her head in agreement, then scrunched her face up a bit as she shook her head instead. “But while intellectually, that makes sense to me, being away from you seems to have made me insecure in new ways. I mean, I thought I’d properly planned for your departure, yet despite that… it didn’t turn out right.”

“No? What, the Agency accounts got messed up?”

“Not that.”

“Then did you run into technical issues? Because Trixie seems to have the tech-fu, or whatever you want to call it, more than either of us.”

“It wasn’t a tech problem.”

“Is was personal? Did you miss the… um, er…”

“Sex? No. Well, maybe a bit. Thing is, James, it was more I liked having someone to bounce ideas off of. Because talking to Trixie professionally just makes her get defensive, and talking to her about personal stuff… well, I mostly didn’t. I don’t want to give her ammunition. But I couldn’t shun her entirely, because I didn’t want to run this place alone.”

“So, you missed me,” I summarized.

“Nngh. Yeah,” Melissa forced out. “In fact, about a minute ago, I guess I should have simply said I love you back. If this is love I feel. I’m sorry?”

I smiled. “It’s fine, Mel. I know you. Hug?”

I moved in to give her a hug, and she hugged back, drawing in a deep breath.

“Okay,” Melissa said at last. “Dinner with my parents is in under half an hour. Might as well just put your stuff in my room for now. I mean, Trixie’s not here to complain about your return, so screw her. Not literally.”

I pulled back a bit. “Where is your cousin, dare I ask?”

Melissa made a face. “She’s been gone most of today ‘thinking’. I bet because our whole lycan-containment-fail happened, when it theoretically should have worked. She’s stupidly smart, to use an oxymoron, but that doesn’t translate to work out in the field. I can’t believe I allowed it.”

“Mel, don’t get too harsh. Trixie’s still young. We all make mistakes in our youth, as we learn.”

“She’s not that young,” Melissa sniffed. “But what, you don’t want her to move out then? You want to check out her chest a bit more?”

Having opened my mouth to respond to the first question, I paused momentarily at the second. “Uh, well, I don’t want to barge back in and kick Trixie out if she has nowhere else. But my motive is not to check out her body.”

“How could you not though,” Melissa muttered, only to pull right back from me. “Sorry. Let’s drop it, I think this parents thing is messing with me a bit tonight too. I haven’t spoken to them in months, aside from the dinner invitation, so I’m on edge.”

I had questions about that, but I suspected that asking any meant we’d run out of time for me to get my stuff inside. Or the conversation would somehow loop back to Trixie.

So I simply agreed with Melissa, and put my stuff in my no-longer-ex-girlfriend’s room. When I was finished, I moved up behind her at the desk in the main area, where she was staring at a snow globe.

“Mmm. What time is it?” she said, as my shadow fell on her.

“It’s 3 o’clock,” I responded, noting that the clock in the room still didn’t have batteries. Melissa turned in surprise.

“Oh. Seriously?”

I pulled back and gestured towards the offending timepiece. “No, that was a joke. It’s a ten to seven.”

“Oh. I knew that,” she lied.

Truly, I should have known better than to make a time joke with someone who doesn’t register the passage of time.

“Anyway, let’s go. Doesn’t matter if we’re a bit early,” Melissa decided. “I should probably help chop vegetables or something.”

Melissa reached under her desk, grabbing a handbag. Which for the record, I was pretty sure contained magical artifacts, rather than beauty products.

“Anything I should know first though?” I asked. “Because you’ve, uhm, never actually spoken to me about your family. Like, at all.”

“Haven’t I?”

“No.”

“Huh. Guess I never thought it was relevant. Well, my mom is a pixie and my dad is a dwarf, so I knew from a young age that I’d have height issues.”

I searched her face. “Now you’re joking.” It almost came out as a question.

“Yes. My mom’s name is Marissa Virga, she’s a witch like me, and my dad’s name is Wayne Black, he manages a general store and does alchemy on the side.”

I let out a breath of relief. “Well, okay then. You know, you’re definitely getting better at deadpan humour.”

“Thanks,” Melissa said with a grin, before gesturing towards the kitchen. “Shall we have you learn more about them by simply talking to them now?”

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 3c: OF LYCANS AND PROPHECIES

“You never told me that,” I protested.

A pause. “I was sure I did.”

I ran back through that night in my head, and managed to hit on something. “You said you’d wanted to talk to me about something relating to parents when you went to get my dad his water. You never specified what.”

“Oh.” Melissa rubbed her nose. “Well, I’m specifying now. You good with that?”

“I… sure.”

There was no point arguing about the circumstances. This was Melissa’s way. In fact, it felt strangely reassuring to think that things were going back to “normal” so fast. Honestly, my only hesitation was over the fact that I’d never met her parents before.

But after everything Melissa had needed to handle with my parents, doubting her supernatural connection, it seemed only fair that I give hers the chance to give me the once-over as well.

She half smiled at my acceptance, and with that, I realized just how much I had missed her. I reached out to brush some of her hair off of her face.

[caption id=“attachment_2345” align=“alignright” width=“186”] TRIXIE
Commission from Sen Yomi[/caption]

“A-HEM,” Trixie said, clearing her throat incredibly noisily. I realized that face had moved in to within an inch of my former (current?) girlfriend’s, and so I quickly pulled back. Melissa did likewise.

“I’d say get a motel room, but I’m worried you’d kick me out to use the one we’ve got,” Trixie said, hands moving to her hips. “Also, Missy, dinner what now? You never mentioned that to me.”

“Oh, good, so you won’t be offended now that you’re not coming,” Melissa said, raking her fingers back through her rumpled hair.

“No, but I’m wondering if you told your parents we’re dating,” Trixie remarked. “We’re related you know, so that’s a bit twisted.”

Melissa’s face seemed to get redder. “I only told them I might not be able to bring James. This wasn’t a matter of coming with a date either, they wanted to know who I was associating with at work. But you know, even if we weren’t related, your attitude is such that I would NEVER –”

“I think we’d best check on Amy now,” I said, hoping to prevent an argument. I attempted to clear my throat afterwards and just sounded raspy, so I turned and stepped towards the motel room door, reaching my hand out for the doorknob.

Trixie blinked. “Oh, wait, James, I put up –”

As I touched the door, I felt an electrical jolt, which not only knocked me off my feet and onto the pavement a good foot and a half away, but which left my fingers twitching spasmodically for several seconds.

“—some protective scrolls.”

“Now who’s an idiot?” I grumbled back in her direction.

“Well, it stood to reason, didn’t it?” Trixie countered. “You told me to keep her safe, and what did you think those little papers were for? Idiot.”

I glowered. This caused her to switch tactics, clasping her hands behind her back as she pushed her chest out. Despite her maturity, she looked remarkably cute, to the point where it almost felt cruel to remain upset with the freckled witch. “I sowwy,” Trixie cooed.

“Oh, I… uh…”

“Cut that out, Trixie,” Melissa grumbled, moving to stand between us, blocking my view. “He’s working with our Agency again, so he’s off limits to your nonsense. Also, let us into Amy’s room, I need to sit down.”

I saw Trixie stick out her tongue at Melissa as she walked closer, right before winking at me. That said, she then deactivated her scrolls without causing any other arguments.

At this point, per Amy’s request, we explained to her exactly what had been going on while she’d been asleep. Of course, some of it she already knew, through me. But Melissa’s account of the lycan was new to both of us, and I also had to fill in some information about Amy’s dream world for the witches. Without going into quite the detail I did above with respect to Amy the Genie, to be sure.

After all, while actual “Jinn” are supposedly neither angelic or demonic, there is an association in folk tales with more evil intentions. Sleep paralysis is also associated with Jinn attacks. I didn’t want to send the witches off on a tangent.

Oh, for the record, I did make contact with Amy again before setting this account down. She’s okay with you knowing more, given the time lag and what this managed to lead up to. It was also during this motel room discussion that Trixie hit me multiple times for failing to understand women. Couldn’t argue either, particularly being the only guy in the room.

“At the risk of sounding self-centred,” Amy said when it was all over, “What exactly is going to happen with Charlie Halko? Is he still going to be stalking me, even without that vampire’s presence?” (She really couldn’t get the hang of elongating the ‘i’.)

“Halko was never stalking you,” Trixie reminded. “That was a dream scenario. And from all the electronic data I went over, I don’t think he was necessarily interested in you, per se. His initial fascination was with lamps, he’d started buying them even before your show existed."

“I agree you shouldn’t worry,” Melissa added. “I suspect it was the vampyre’s compulsiveness that drove Charlie to monitor you to the degree that he did. You were a wedge he could use. Charlie’s now liable to be a bit hazy about the last few months of his life, plus he’ll probably associate your videos with fear and horror. So let’s classify him as mostly harmless.”

“Ooh, Missy, are you quoting Douglas Adams?” Trixie asked her cousin, expression brightening.

“What?” Melissa asked tiredly as she turned back to the redhead.

Trixie’s expression became a pout. “Sorry, for a moment there I thought you had culture.”

“Though, one more thing, speaking of lamps?” Amy broke back in. From where she sat on the bed, she gestured at the old style lamp on the night table.

The one that had formerly been a knife.

“Yeah, now, that should not have happened,” Melissa admitted.

She stood up to go and examine the object once more. Trixie immediately took Melissa’s place, sitting in the only chair in the room. I continued to lean against the wall.

We had gone to the effort of rubbing the lamp, by the way. No genie.

Melissa turned the lamp around in her hands a couple of times, then shook her head. “Still no signs it’s going to revert. The current supernatural balance is obviously even more out of whack than I previously believed,” the brunette witch concluded.

“Maybe the knife’s transformation has some connection to this Prophecy?” I suggested. “Between that and the three month window that the vampyre alluded to, perhaps we’ll start seeing more of this kind of thing.”

“The lycan mentioned a prophecy too, but I have no idea what it’s about,” Melissa said, starting to sound frustrated. “Trixie? You turn up anything yet?”

“Nopers,” Trixie said with a shrug. She’d done some online searching for it during my earlier dream explanations, and had come up empty. “But remember, I’m a techno-witch. If it’s not published on the web, I can’t find it. You’ll need to research dusty old books in the library with James. If you can keep your minds on research, that is.”

“This isn’t funny, Trix," Melissa snapped. “Can’t you try the so-called dark web or something?”

Trixie’s grin vanished. “Geez, Missy, I didn’t say I was giving up. But you can’t just call me in and expect me to fix all your problems overnight.”

“Tell me about it. It took you two weeks just to pinpoint Halko,” Melissa grumbled.

“Which is not that long given what little I had to go on. You should have called me in a week earlier, before you started following false leads.” Now Trixie was sounding defensive.

I exchanged a quick glance with Amy, who smiled tiredly and shrugged. It wasn’t just me then - the working relationship between the two witches wasn’t as amicable as the one that had existed between Melissa and I.

I coughed. “You know, we could always talk to other witches, see if they have more information,” I suggested. “Maybe they’ve heard supernatural beings talking about it too.”

“Mmm,” Melissa said, nodding her head in agreement as she put the lamp back down. “Maybe see if any other witches are also seeing a rise in supernatural incidents, or magick forced on the unwilling, that sort of thing. Good thinking, James.”

Trixie rolled her eyes, but said nothing, which at least didn’t create more problems. As far as the Agency goes, I like to think I compliment Melissa’s analysis and Trixie’s tech with a little human interaction.

“Um, about that,” Amy put in. “If I’ve understood James correctly the last couple weeks, weren’t you breaking your own rules tonight? By attacking the vampire, using your magic to contain the wolf when he didn’t want to be trapped, and that sort of thing.”

Melissa turned to look at Amy. “No, because we were up against beings who knew we were witches, and thus expected spells. Moreover, when someone attacks you, they’re implicitly opening themselves up to be attacked back. Passive acceptance.”

“Besides, our spells were basically for self-defence, and we’re allowed to protect ourselves without a backlash,” Trixie added.

“Ah,” Amy said dubiously. “I guess real magic’s a lot more complicated than I thought it would be.”

“There’s special evening courses you can take,” Melissa offered. “Though you’d need a sponsor, you have to show some natural ability, and all the participants tend to be of high school age or less. Well, occasionally first year university.”

Melissa glanced my way. I vaguely recalled her talking about it with me once, but I had been more interested in my journalism goals at the time.

“Ugh, tell me about it,” Trixie moaned. “If I hadn’t had to take all those extra magick courses, I’m sure I could have graduated regular high school two years early.” She grinned at Amy. “Say, have I mentioned my IQ?”

Amy raised her hands, palms out, and waved them back and forth with a wan smile on her face. “Never mind, it’s fine, I think I’ll leave the magic to the professionals.”

“That’s probably best,” Melissa said dismissively. I suspect that I alone had sensed the disappointment in Amy’s tone. Maybe it was time to clear the room, to give Amy some peace and quiet.

I pushed away from the wall, stretching my arms above my head. “Well, at the risk of being rude, it’s something like 3am, and I think we could all do with at least a bit of uninterrupted sleep.”

“3am?” said Melissa in surprise. “I thought it was midnight.”

She gestured at the motel’s clock radio, which had been reset at some point and was flashing twelve.

“Yes, Missy, it’s been midnight for the last three hours,” Trixie said. She rose from the chair and headed over to her cousin, grabbing her by the arm. “Don’t you worry, James, I get it. We’ll get out of your hair, leave you to say to Amy whatever it is you need to.”

Melissa humphed. “Don’t get coy, Trixie. James knows not to hint with me, if he needs time without us, he’ll say so.”

“What he needs is for you to pretend to understand relationships,” Trixie said, pulling Melissa towards the door. “Honestly, you two idiots are made for each other.”

Melissa gave Trixie a look of annoyance, and me a sort of a confused shrug, but didn’t otherwise resist being led out of the room. As Trixie pulled the door behind them, I fired off a grateful smile her way.

Trixie’s response was to meet my gaze, and give me a wink while making a kissing motion with her mouth. I couldn’t tell if the redhead was making an allusion to “kissing Amy goodbye”, if she was trying to give me her own kiss goodnight, if she was simply trying to annoy Melissa, or something completely different.

Trixie was definitely harder for me to read than her cousin.

Only once the witches had left and closed the door did I go to sit on the side of the bed near Amy. It was time to end this particular chapter of my life.

Little did I realize that this would be less like ending a chapter, and more like concluding an entire book - before launching into a new volume, one that had me in a relationship with the Chosen One of a Prophecy.

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 3b: OF LYCANS AND PROPHECIES

“Clever,” the wolfman yielded. “But remaining like that requires concentration, which will falter eventually.”

“Yes, well, gives us time to talk about why you’re so against restoring supernatural balance. Along with why you’re targeting me when there’s plenty more witches doing this on a grander scale,” Melissa said. “Am I an appetizer before them?”

“Surely you’re aware of the Prophecy. You’re the Chosen One, Melissssa Viiiirga,” it countered with a hiss.

Melissa stared. “Prophecy. How special. Okay, I’m listening.”

“I’m done talking.”

The lycan moved to grab a rather hefty concrete vase, no doubt used to provide some décor to the area, which he then threw at the brunette.

Melissa was forced to do a quick dodge, as she not only attempted to avoid the object but the splinters of the vase after it shattered against the far side of the pool. The wolf used this opportunity to jump at her.

Melissa saw no alternative.

She hopped off the broom, hefting it by the handle as she fell towards the pool bottom. She then angled up the hard wooden end holding the bristles, mentally calculating her drop in relation to the way the lycan was twisting in the air to try and land on her, then with as much force as she could muster, she jabbed it up between the lycan’s legs, hitting at the crotch of his jeans. (Sometimes, Melissa conceded, you can’t avoid the cheap shots.)

Her opponent let out a bit of a whine and his trajectory shifted, as Melissa released her grip on the push broom, calling out “Salio!” once again.

She landed on the pool bottom with both feet together, grimacing as her weight followed, bending her knees to try reduce the shock, as the spell helped her spring back up.

Know that repeated use of the same spell does tend to reduce its effectiveness, at least in the short term. (Magick tends to reward the more creative individual, rather than penalize across the board regardless of what gets cast.)

As such, Melissa didn’t spring up as high as before, this time only just managing to catch the middle rung of the ladder for the deep end of the pool, once at the height of her arc.

She looked down, noting that the wolf was apparently trying to block out whatever pain he was feeling, and was already standing up. He again jumped for her. After doing another quick mental calculation, she pulled back her leg and delivered a kick to his face before he could grab hold of either her, or the pool ladder.

He did manage to leave a bit of a scratch on her leg for his efforts, owing to his outstretched arms.

“Having fun?”

Melissa declined to answer Trixie’s remark, but did accept the redhead’s extended arm, helping her to get up out of the pool that much faster.

“Time for Plan B, containment,” Melissa said tersely. “Go to the opposite side.”

[caption id=“attachment_2345” align=“alignright” width=“186”] TRIXIE
Commission from Sen Yomi[/caption]

“What was Plan A?” Trixie mused, even as she quickly moved to comply, hopping nimbly over the low diving board at the head of the pool on the way.

The wolf, for his part, had apparently decided that it would be easier to get out by heading down to the shallow end, as he was now doing so. However, the couple of falls and hits meant he wasn’t moving at top speed.

Melissa began a quick chant here, and I won’t transcribe all of the latin, but the gist of it was a containment grid that the lycan would not be able to pass while in wolf form. Not without having to endure a lot of pain.

As Melissa finished, she looked up to link eyes with Trixie, who was by now crouching directly opposite her. “Initimus!” the two witches chorused, slapping their hands down onto the pool tiles in tandem.

The tiles lit up sequentially around the poolside, like a glowing rectangle. In less than a second, the whole perimeter had been covered, and then beams shot out laterally to cover the area as well. They passed right through the torso of the wolf as he was emerging.

The lycan howled, even as his transformation suddenly reversed, leaving what looked to be a forty-something bearded male yelling out in its wake. Said male then fell back beneath the surface of the glow, leaving him sitting in the shallow end, glaring up at the witches.

The glow itself faded after a moment, but the barrier remained.

Melissa tucked some hair back behind her ear. “Okay, we’ll question him later,” she concluded, expelling a long breath. “For now, back to James and the vampyre.”

“Worried about your James, hmmm?” Trixie inquired, standing back up and tugging on her short skirt, one hopes to make sure she was staying decent.

“No. Maybe. He’s not my James. Shut up.”

The younger witch smirked as she followed Melissa back out of the pool area. “Guessing you’re going into Amy’s dream," Trixie reasoned. “Can I come too? I haven’t seen James' bizarre form of incompetence against an adversary yet. And after your complaints about how I’m doing things different, I’m curious.”

“I wasn’t complaining. And I said shut up.”

“Uh huh. You know, it’s possible he likes redheads more. Not worried about a little witch competition, are you?”

Melissa whirled. “Trix, for the last time, I said… ohhhhh, hell-o!” Where the ‘o’ was very much tacked on, so that she could pretend she hadn’t come close to swearing.

“No, you said…” But then Trixie’s voice trailed off too, noting the expression on Melissa’s face.

She spun as well, looking back towards the motel’s pool. Where the man who had been a wolf was climbing out amid a silent crackling of energy, which lit up his face and revealed the way his teeth were clenched and his eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets as he braved whatever their barrier was doing to him.

“Sooo, you know how to fight a lycan, huh?” Trixie said. Humour was something of a defence mechanism for her.

“That should have worked,” was all Melissa could say.

Trixie hesitated. “It really should have,” she yielded, as the lycan (in human form) finally completely surfaced, collapsing back onto the deck by the side of the pool.

“He’s insane,” Melissa diagnosed. “You don’t have any new tricks hidden in your so-called hammerspace for insane lycans, do you?”

“Not so much, no.”

Melissa’s jaw tightened as the shock value wore off, and her instincts started to take over. “Fine then. Another plan forms. It involves using the mirror I brought back with me. Which means I’ll need you to tell me the moment James awakens from his spell-induced slumber, because I can’t invoke the mirror safely until I know he’s handled the vampyre spirit.”

Trixie blinked. “James and the vampyre? You think he can manage that on his own?”

“He handled a poltergeist three months ago with only minimal assistance from me.”

The redhead rolled her eyes. “Oh, right, right, the poltergeist story again. Fine, I’ll let you know when he’s conscious,” she finished, hurrying back towards the car.

Once there, Trixie later said she took the opportunity to peek in through the curtains at the slumbering Amy as well, to verify that the dream world was still both active and stable.

Melissa looked around for something new that she might be able to use as a weapon. She didn’t see anything, but then resigned herself to the fact that if the lycan could withstand all the punishment she’d thrown at him so far, brandishing a club wasn’t liable to dissuade him either.

With a few quick murmurs and gestures, she began to work on what she determined to be her best possible defence, a moveable shield. These actually work better than simply enclosing yourself in a six-sided box, as their smaller size requires much less energy to activate and maintain. Though their use does require the caster to have a sense of where the next attack is coming from.

Once completed, Melissa extended her non-dominant hand, the magick circle appearing at her palm to her eyes alone. She then looked back up at the lycan. He had managed to at least partially transform back into wolf form, and was now about ten paces away, moving slowly but steadily, still sizing her up.

“You know,” she began. “Maybe we can still talk about –”

It lunged, slamming against her invisible shield with such force that she had to take a step back.

“Or not,” Melissa sighed in defeat.

What followed was a series of clawings, poundings, and attempted bitings. No finesse at all, Melissa later noted, and no imagination either. The lycan apparently didn’t even consider capturing the nearby Trixie to use as bait, not that such a ruse would have panned out any better.

Melissa did have to expand the diameter of her shield a couple of times though, and she suspected that, had the lycan been at full strength, it wouldn’t have held out. Soon she began to grow concerned that maybe I’d decided to wait in Amy’s dream for her to get there.

“Trixie,” she called out after maybe two minutes of the lycan’s mauling attack. “Maybe we’ll get you to go into that dream after all.”

Trixie brightened. “Seriously?”

“Well, something needs to break up this stalemate, before we end up with a much bigger problem,” she shouted.

“He’s awake,” Trixie called out at that moment.

“Arcesso!” Melissa stated, Charlie’s mirror in her mind’s eye.

She extended her non-shield hand in the direction of the car as his mirror flew out through the broken rear window. The wolf’s momentary distraction at the sight of the object flying in towards Melissa even gave her the reprieve she needed to catch it.

“Honestly,” she continued. “If there’s one thing more annoying than unexpected vampyres, it’s when they’re accompanied by lycans.”

Apparently deciding that the mirror wasn’t a new threat, the wolf jumped at Melissa again.

Big mistake.

The witch dispelled her shield and brandished the mirror in both hands, calling out something rapid fire. Whatever she said meant the lycan’s jump took him right inside the mirror, and out of our plane of existence.

Melissa immediately smashed said mirror onto the ground, breaking the glass, and then she moved to stand on it, jerking the frame out of alignment. There was a long sighing sound, not unlike the air being let out of a tire, and for a moment a white haired image appeared, hovering over the debris.

This, I believe, was the Somnalibus. His image then vanished (I may have imagined a smile), and all was silence. Except for the sound of Melissa’s heavy breathing.

I waited a beat before exiting the car, looking first to Trixie. “I’ve missed something.”

“No kidding,” Trixie chirped back. “Man, you just can’t stop yourself from saying idiotic things, can you. It’s actually fascinating.”

Melissa trudged back to the car, looking tired, rumpled and sweaty, which I found simultaneously worrisome, given how she’s usually more proper, as well as bizarrely erotic, for precisely the same reason.

“Tell me you and Amy handled the vampyre spirit,” she said, more a statement of what she wanted to be true than an actual question.

“Yeah. Well, the Somnalibus did,” I amended.

“Good,” Melissa said with a sigh.

I then glanced towards the shattered mirror on the pavement of the parking lot. “Your, um, lycan dealt with?”

She shrugged. “If that went right, he’s trapped in the Culicinae realm with the vampyres. If not, well, at least he’s not here any more.”

“Ah. Well, good.”

The two of us linked eyes. Melissa’s cheeks were already flushed, and I suspect mine got darker too, at the intensity of her gaze. I cleared my throat, searching for the right words. “This is probably going to sound weird. But I’ve missed this.”

The corners of her mouth twitched. “Only the cases then?”

I slowly shook my head. It’s possible my gaze wandered over her form.

“So you’re coming back.” Again, almost a question, but more a statement of hopeful truth.

I paused for a moment to make sure I meant it. “Yeah. If you’ll have me.”

“Oh, heck yeah,” Melissa repeated, sighing again. “I’d much rather bring you to dinner with my parents tomorrow, instead of Trixie.”

“Right. I can underst– wait, what?”

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 3a: OF LYCANS AND PROPHECIES

“Hi Missy,” the redhead said in delight as soon as she picked up. “James get to you in time with the garlic?”

“So it was you who sent him.”

“No, he psychically knew you were in trouble. You two have that special bond.”

Melissa sighed. “Trixie…”

“Well, what did you expect me to say? Anyway, how is it that in all our conversations you failed to mention that James is somehow a competent idiot? That’s a real interesting mix. For the record, I’ve told him he can do better than you."

“Trixie, he’s not your type.”

“Oh, sure, immediately leap to thinking that I hit on him."

“I bet you at least did your stupid ‘look at my chest’ pose.”

“Stupid, hmm? What if I said James looked, meaning he’s a typical guy? B-t-w, green’s not a good colour on you, Missy.”

Melissa leaned in against the steering wheel. “Let’s table this. I need you to bring some items over to his and Amy’s room, ASAP.”

“I’m already here. How about you simply bring this stuff to me?”

The brunette witch blinked. “What are you doing in James’ room?”

“He wanted me to protect Amy while he was gone. Little thing called chivalry. Remind me to fill you in on the concept.”

I’d once suggested to Melissa that if someone was being deliberately annoying around her, she should simply count down from five in her head to avoid saying a rather blunt remark, thus causing the situation to escalate further. I suspect that’s why she remained silent for a moment at this point.

[caption id=“attachment_2345” align=“alignright” width=“186”] TRIXIE
Commission from Sen Yomi[/caption]

Come to think, Melissa pauses like that a lot when Trixie is around.

“Fine, well, I’m parked in front of that room with James asleep in the passenger seat,” Melissa said at last. “So we might as well be talking in person.”

“YOU called ME,” Trixie reminded.

Melissa simply hung up. She then dropped the phone onto the floor of the car and reached for the door handle – which is when the rear window shattered from the large rock that had been thrown at it.

The witch quickly spun, and she admitted to me that her heart briefly leapt into her throat, over concern that the mirror had been destroyed prior to our agreed upon time. It had fallen over, but still seemed intact.

Unfortunately, with her attention being on the mirror, she was unable to defend against the long, hairy arm that reached in through the shattered glass and grabbed for her throat from behind. “Melissssssssa,” a voice hissed.

“Urk!” was all Melissa could manage to vocalize.

Her mind immediately went to work sizing up the situation. She didn’t have enough force to break the grip. Her better spells required a focusing phrase, which was currently impossible. I was obviously not in a position to help, her phone was on the floor, and she wasn’t in the best position to strike back at her aggressor. Moreover, while slamming her hand down on the horn might attract the attention of someone - like Trixie - who could help, it might also wake up Amy, which was also not in Melissa’s best interests.

At this point, I will mention that there is a spell, unique to every witch, known as ‘ultima ratio’ (or ‘last resort’). They can invoke it in times of dire emergency.

I say it’s unique, because it might involve vanishing, or explosions, or growing a third arm, or whatever said witch has previously decided should happen if the situation is really as bad as all that. It also effectively renders the witch incapable of casting spells for quite some time afterwards, hence why it’s a last resort spell.

Of course, Melissa’s situation here was, in fact, not as bad as all that – I mostly bring it up at this point so that it’s not a surprise later, and to give you a sense of how bad things may yet become.

What Melissa did do at this point was reach up and rake her fingernails over the hairy hand that had her by the throat.

When the hand flinched, she was able to subvocalize a particular thought.

When the car then caught fire, the hand flinched even more, to the point where she could rasp out, “Fulgur.”

Melissa tapping her fingers against the hand now sent a sharp electric shock through it. By the time her opponent had processed the fact that the fire had no heat, he was jerking back and twitching from her electrical attack anyway. (Illusion, Melissa has said, can be a very powerful tool. At the very least, it can provide one with the second or two that’s needed to think up something better.)

Melissa wasted no time in kicking her car door open and getting out, in order to put herself in a more defensible position.

Her opponent – a lycan, as mentioned earlier, so essentially a wolfman in jeans – was able to backhand her before she was fully prepared.

Melissa’s body flew back onto the hood of the car, but she rolled with it, landing in front of the vehicle on one knee. Trixie poked her head around the motel room curtains at about this point, having heard something. Her eyes went wide, and keeping the drapes pulled back at least slightly, in order to still be able to see Amy, she hurried outside.

“Do you two mind?” Trixie quipped at Melissa as she opened the door, and then tried to close it as quietly as possible. “People at this motel are trying to sleep.”

“Not now, Trixie,” was Melissa’s only response, slowly getting to her feet, eyes fixated on her attacker.

The lycan, for his part, had also paused to size up the situation, seeing as he’d now lost the advantage of surprise.

“Lycan,” Trixie said, a mite reduntantly, to fill the ensuing silence. “Different from a werewolf, silver doesn’t apply. You’ll have to –”

“I know how to fight a lycan, Trix,” Melissa said, her tone clipped.

Trixie hushed. Whenever Melissa started getting terse, you knew she was serious. (Conversely, Trixie tends to use full names when she gets serious, as she likes using nicknames as a matter of course. Go figure.)

For your sake though, assuming you are unaware, I’ll mention that the main difference between a werewolf and a lycan is that the former requires a full moon to transform, while the latter has more control. There are other differences, but, well, the internet is actually not as wholly inaccurate on this particular distinction as it is on others, so you can check into them yourself if you like.

Melissa and the lycan continued their staring contest for a few moments more.

“So,” Melissa ventured. “I’m willing to go our separate ways here. Though I’d recommend some silver sulfadiazine, should help you balance out your control issues, you’re liable to get in trouble looking like that.”

“I won’t be in trouble once I keep you from restoring the balance, Melisssssa Viiiirga,” the lycan retorted at last. “Very arrogant of you to put your real name on the motel ledger.”

“I’ve been told I can be arrogant,” Melissa admitted.

“Yeah, I’ve told her that,” Trixie chimed in.

“Is this not directly connected to the whole vampyre thing with Amy then?” Melissa continued.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Trixie lamented, when the lycan simply stared. “The movies have lied to us again, not everything interconnects.” She shook her head sadly, her twintails knocking against her shoulders.

The lycan’s eyes narrowed. “You two must think you’re pretty smart.”

“IQ of 151,” the redhead said proudly.

“Must you always bring that up?” Melissa said in annoyance.

“Oh, right, cuz as you’ve told me, James never flaunted his intelligence. His apparent complete absence of such, you seem to have become love numbed towards.”

“Don’t end a sentence with a preposition.”

“Shut up,” the lycan said in disbelief.

“Make me,” Trixie shot back.

The wolf form lunged at them. Or more specifically, at Melissa, though he took a side swipe at Trixie too.

The redhead was able to simply step back; Melissa’s dodge had to be a bit more artistic, but seeing as she’d anticipated the lycan’s move, she was even able to reach out and grab one of the motel’s exterior deck chairs to use as a shield afterwards.

“MAKE me?” she said to Trixie in disbelief.

“Sorry, hadn’t parsed it was him saying that,” the younger witch mumbled.

“I’ll lead him on a chase, meet you at the pool,” Melissa concluded, as the lycan managed to rip the chair from her hands. The pool was one of the outdoor types that these motels sometimes have.

“But…” Trixie began, gesturing at the motel room, before blinking and nodding in realization. She pulled out her computing device again, punching something in quickly with her thumbs. “Rixi, protective scrolls,” she said.

“All right,” her own voice replied agreeably. “Accessing.”

One light show later, and Trixie was quickly thumbing some self-adhesive papers to the motel room’s door jamb and window.

At the same time, Melissa had made a run for her own motel room. It wasn’t, in fact, her destination, but she had hoped the lycan would believe that to be the case. She had already concluded that she wouldn’t be able to outpace him on foot – wolves are damn fast – and that running any sort of confusing zigzag pattern would only serve to slow herself down.

As expected, he did jump in front of her, so as her own foot touched the ground, she intoned, “Salio!”

As her foot came up, she shot at least ten feet into the air. With her momentum still carrying her forwards, she easily overshot her opponent, and was able to continue running.

With a snarl, the lycan turned to catch up again, this time passing her and blocking passage to the room she had booked. Which was pretty much what she’d hoped.

She turned to the side before reaching the lycan, grabbing the long push broom that someone had left next to a small pile of debris, outside an unoccupied room. After giving it a quick enchantment, she grabbed the handle, hopped up onto it, and rode it off in the other direction, like a segway. (I believe I mentioned this is how she uses brooms to travel.)

With an exclamation of annoyance, the wolf followed, but now at least they were moving at roughly the same speed.

“Hurry it up, Trix,” Melissa remarked as she came within earshot of my hotel room again.

“I’m keeping James’ current girlfriend safe,” Trixie retorted as she stepped back to activate her scrolls. “You’d be blamed if Amy came to harm.”

“That girl’s not his girlfriend yet,” Melissa was heard to mumble as she continued to ride her push broom through the parking lot.

I hesitate to point out here that no effort was made to actually protect my slumbering form in the front seat of the car. I’m not sure what that says about my witch associates, or about me, but I choose to believe they felt I was in no danger, or could handle myself. Somehow.

The lycan continued his pursuit of Melissa, obviously his primary target. She continued to glide on her broom in the dim light being cast from both the moon and the neon sign for the motel, until she reached the access to the pool.

The gate was locked, but public property has never stopped a witch before. Once inside, she was confronted with the fact that it had not yet been opened for the season, and remained totally drained.

This did not bode well for her initial idea of getting the wolf wet, and possibly altering the chlorine content to be something rather more aggravating to her adversary.

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 2e: OF VAMPYRES AND GENIES

Amy let out a little sigh of relief. The vamp quickly recovered, landing back on his feet.

“Can’t attack a genie that way,” Amy admonished, apparently starting to assert herself a bit more, seeing as we were out of the detective scenario and into something a little more familiar to her.

“You gave yourself powers,” the vampyre realized. He shot a look at the Somnalibus. “Little help here?” he demanded.

The white haired Somnalibus demon sized up the situation. The vampyre was, for the moment, keeping his distance away from Amy by the wall, as well as from me, in the light coming in from a front window.

“You can handle it,” the demon concluded, crossing his arms and leaning back against the open doorway. In other words, the outcome here was uncertain, and the Somnalibus didn’t want to be on the losing side.

“You useless piece of–” The vampyre didn’t even bother to finish the sentence, instead reaching for the vase on a nearby table, heaving it at Amy instead.

Again, she raised her fingers, the object bouncing off an invisible wall. Regrettably, the vampyre had probably counted on that, as he used Amy’s momentary distraction to jump at ME.

I was at least able to reason out his angle of attack, namely parallel to the window, since he was having to pull the curtain as he moved. To block out the sun.

This let me evade his initial strike, and vault over the couch, though without thinking I put some weight on my wrist as I did so. I cried out in pain before falling onto the floor.

“James?” Amy called out in concern.

“Capture the vampyre in a cage or something,” I suggested, my arm throbbing.

“I cannot grant you that wish unless you have my lamp,” Amy protested.

“Think of a better idea yourself then?” I ventured.

“I cannot use magic on the world around me, unless it’s in self-defense.”

Okay, her dream world, her rules. You’d think she could have bent them, but then, certain beliefs can be pretty fundamental to an individual’s personality. Also, in a way it means supernatural balance was playing a role even here.

I became very busy fending off the vampyre’s next attack, wishing that I’d had the presence of mind to throw on a turtleneck sweater at some earlier point in the evening.

With the curtain closed, grabbing one of the couch cushions became my plan for blocking an attack to my face or neck. It was successful, but the vampyre then went for my injured wrist.

Well, that wasn’t good.

I kicked at him, but he avoided it. His grip locked around my arm, and just as I felt like there was no way to prevent him from biting down on my skin somehow, there was a smashing sound, and he collapsed on top of me.

I quickly hefted him off and crawled to safety, seeing that Amy the Genie was now standing above the both of us with her hands on her hips.

“I can still attack without using magic,” she asserted. Pieces of the other vase in the room were now scattered about the floor, following its impact on the vampyre’s skull. Unfortunately, he remained conscious, and seemed to be shaking it off.

There seemed to be only one way out of this.

“Amy, give me your lamp?” I requested.

She immediately tossed it in my direction. I caught it with my good hand, then rubbed it with my opposing elbow. “We good for magick on my behalf now?” I asked.

“Mmm hmm! Three wishes, Master,” she affirmed, seemingly smothering a giggle as she tacked on that last term. Under different circumstances, it would have been very cute.

“I wish that the vampyre here be trapped in a cage that he cannot escape from, which has us on the outside, yet is such that we can still see and converse with him,” I blurted out.

The thing with genies, even friendly ones, is trying to account for some of those little loopholes that wishing always seems to generate.

“Granted,” Amy said, clapping her palms together.

With a clanging sound, a cage of iron bars dropped from the ceiling, narrowly missing my foot as it enclosed the vampire. Along with the couch and a quarter of the room.

Well, it didn’t really matter to me that it was roomy inside. I got to my feet again, moving to stand next to Amy as the vampyre also rose. He immediately lunged, reaching through the bars, but fortunately his reach wasn’t enough to touch us.

Sensing that he was temporarily out of options, he stepped back, crossed his arms and glared. “What now then, associates of Melissa?” he demanded. “Are you going to kill me?”

It was a rather good question, actually. I looked to Amy. “I don’t suppose I can wish for him to be banished back to his realm.”

“Uh, since his realm isn’t within this dream, I’d have no idea how to do that,” Amy apologized.

I rubbed my chin. “How about wishing for him to spill everything he knows about the prophecy he mentioned? Could be a clue there.”

Amy shook her head. “James - that is, Master - this vampire is not actually a character in my dream, so I can’t interfere with his free will.” She frowned. “Come on, can’t you think of some way that my magic would be of use?”

I refrained from bringing up her pronunciation issues.

“Fine, we can certainly make things uncomfortable here, such that he’d want to cooperate of his own accord,” I concluded. “Amy — uh, Genie - I wish for garlic to be in every house and environment in this world. Along with a basket of garlic bread for the both of us.”

My Asian/Arabian friend grinned once again. “Granted,” she declared, again clapping her hands.

The vampyre’s eyes went wide. “No,” he said rather hoarsely, as cloves and sprigs of garlic suddenly popped into the room. A gift basket of bread also appeared on a nearby table.

The vamp threw his arm over his face, to try and screen his breathing. Or perhaps to remind himself that he didn’t need to breathe, I don’t know.

“Fine, torture me if you like,” he shot back. “It’s still nothing compared to what my fate would otherwise be, either within your realm, or my own.”

I handed some garlic bread over to Amy as I pondered that. “What, are you a wanted felon or something back in Culicinae?” I asked, now hoping I was pronouncing it right.

He didn’t respond, simply glaring with his red eyes. I sighed, taking a bite of bread myself, before shrugging and looking back at my companion.

“Maybe we’ll have to wait until Melissa shows,” I concluded.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

Amy’s eyes went wide. “What? She’s coming into this dream as well?”

“That had been the plan, I think. She was returning to the motel first.”

“But I can’t let her see me like this,” Amy protested, tossing her garlic bread aside. “It’s bad enough that YOU are seeing one of my most secret desires. Dammit James…!”

Amy pressed two fingers to her forehead, and it felt like the room blurred a bit around the edges.

“I-I’m sorry,” I apologized, suddenly worried that she was going to wake up. “Could we simply get you a disguise?”

Amy shook her head. “Give me the knife back, I guess I need its help to reverse this whole setting.”

I frowned. “The knife?”

“Yes, I turned Melissa’s nasty knife into that lamp when I switched us over into this fantasy.”

My fingers tightened on the object.

How long had I been holding the knife/lamp now? At least a minute. And when Melissa said two minutes, she meant it. And once I exited, the mirror would be smashed, and Amy would wake up.

“Okay, big problem. Hypothetically, what would happen to the vampyre if this dream abruptly ended?” I asked, not really expecting Amy to be able to answer.

“He’d probably make me jump to another one,” answered the Somnalibus in her place.

I’d almost forgotten about him.

I turned to the white haired demon, still watching us from the entranceway to the room. “What if you were released though?” I asked, trying to speak quickly without slurring my words. “If the item in my world that the vampyre had used to trap you here with him were to be simultaneously destroyed along with the end of this dream.”

An eyebrow went up. “He’d merely be a free floating spirit then. Albeit one liable to trap another of my kind and then find more victims.”

“Could you act to prevent that, within the next thirty seconds? With my personal guarantee that you will be freed from his influence thereafter?”

The demon half smiled, straightening his posture and cracking his knuckles. “Indeed I could. Because I’ve always wanted to see precisely why my associate decreed the absence of all garlic within the dreams of your companion.”

“Now hold on,” the vampyre said, finally sounding a bit worried. “I was going to release you too. Right? Once I’d become corporeal? You’ve known this James guy for all of half an hour. How can you trust him over me?!”

“From what I have seen of her dreams, this Amy is honourable,” the Somnalibus responded. “I extrapolate the same to her friend. Moreover…” The demon smiled a rather unpleasant looking smile. “In the more lengthy time I’ve known you, I’ve decided I quite DISLIKE you, Culicinae. You think you know better than me? You may have another think coming.”

I held up the lamp. “Third wish. That the Somnalibus here have access to the vampyre’s cage, along with whatever else he might need to defeat the vampyre before I depart.”

“Granted,” Amy said, clapping her hands.

“I don’t need anything else,” the Somnalibus rumbled, grabbing Amy’s discarded garlic bread before marching through the iron bars as if they weren’t there.

The vampyre backpedaled frantically. “Buddy. Friend! Let’s talk about this,” the vampyre began, only to shriek as he put his palm down onto one of the garlic cloves that Amy had summoned up earlier.

“We may not want to watch this,” I realized.

“Yeeeah,” Amy said, briefly tugging on my sleeve before heading out into the hallway.

I followed, though was still in time to hear the vampyre scream again like it had when Melissa had blown the garlic vapours at him.

“In fact,” Amy continued, moving to sit on the stairs. “Leaving the vampyre at his mercy, even this doesn’t feel right, somehow.”

“No element of poetic justice?” I suggested.

“Maybe,” Amy granted.

The screams cut out. She shuddered.

“My wonderful genie fantasy’s been tainted," Amy murmured. “I wonder how much of this I’ll actually remember when I wake up.”

“At least your dreams will be yours own from now on,” I offered.

“Oh! There’s that.” She looked up at me. “Thanks, James. You’ve helped me to realize that magic is–”

“–a much bigger problem,” Melissa shouted.

I sat up, realizing that I was back to being in the passenger seat of the car. We seemed to be parked at the motel.

“He’s awake,” Trixie called out, staring at me through the front windshield.

“Arcesso!” Melissa stated.

I turned in time to see Charlie’s bathroom mirror fly out of the back seat, through the previously shattered rear window, towards Melissa’s outstretched hand.

“Honestly,” Melissa continued, and in the dim lighting of the parking lot, all I could see was that she was talking to some sort of beast, looming over her. “If there’s one thing more annoying than unexpected vampyres, it’s when they’re accompanied by lycans.”

I’d better back up.

END ACT 2

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 2d: OF VAMPYRES AND GENIES

“Oh good, another countdown,” Amy murmured.

Sham droned on regardless. “Next step, you leave the theatre here, take a newspaper, and walk by the park. Keep all your electronic devices on, in case that’s what he’s using to track you. Sit on a bench to read. As you do, I’ll keep an eye on things, from the shadows, and nab the guy if and when he turns up.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there on the bench with you,” I assured Amy, as she again looked dubious.

Sham shook his head. “No good. A perp like this is too smart to approach if you’re with her,” he said to me. “You can hang back with me, as long as you can keep quiet, but it’s got to look like Ms. Lampana’s alone. It’s fine, I gather he’s more likely to propose to her than stab her.”

I frowned, deciding to just come out with an accusation. “Sounds like you want to split us up, to knock me out before attacking her.”

“Whoa! Hey! SHE hired ME,” the PI countered indignantly. “And let me add that as the boyfriend, you ARE a prime suspect – if you even are who you claim to be?”

“Oh, stop,” Amy moaned. “Let’s just get this over with already. Catching this guy, that’s… that’s what ends this, right?”

The question was pretty much directed at me, as Amy had somehow sensed or decided that this would be the fix for the complications I’d mentioned to her before.

“I hope so,” was the best response I could give her.

“I’ll get the guy, don’t worry,” Sham asserted, giving me a look.

Amy could only sigh in response.

We went ahead with the plan. Amy booked the airline flight, grabbed a movie magazine, and headed out. I waited a couple beats along with Sham before following. The two of us were constantly exchanging uncertain glances – neither of us seemed to trust the other.

Consider, the original private investigator had most likely been Charlie, pulled back into reality by Melissa’s arrival. But, I wondered, did that necessarily mean that the vampyre spirt had again assumed the role?

Could the vampyre have instead had the Somnalibus pull a reset, the PI becoming a puppet, while it took on the guise of the stalker instead? It could now be biding it’s time until it felt recovered enough to attack.

I didn’t know, meaning I now had to keep an eye on both Sham (who might attack me) and Amy (who might be attacked).

It seemed to be nighttime in the dream world too, which didn’t help. I belatedly wished I was close enough to Amy to tell her to make it brighter, using her lucid dream abilities.

Instead, I could only watch as Amy chose a park bench relatively close to a lamppost, so that she could see her magazine. It was a type of lamp, I suppose that was fitting. I took up a position in the bushes nearby, slightly removed from Sham so that he couldn’t suddenly clock me in the back of the head.

We waited. A good five minutes passed.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

I started to wonder about Melissa, whether she had reached the motel, and whether she might suddenly appear here too. How close was the passage of time in this dream a match to the real world? I’ve never had a conclusive answer to that question.

A businessman in a suit and tie passed by without incident. Then some woman in a track outfit ambled by, walking their dog. Next, a brunette girl with long hair appeared on the path, facing away from me. I leaned in a bit, twisting my head to see if that was actually Melissa.

Which let me see something else out of the corner of my eye, something approaching fast from above.

I rolled left. A figure landed exactly where I’d been crouching. It wasn’t Sham, I’d been keeping tabs on him too. No, this person had somehow been in the tree above me.

The shape turned to look at me, his eyes red, his forehead ridged. “You’re not supposed to be here with her,” the vampyre hissed.

I blew my cover. All I could think about was getting away, so I scrambled out of the bushes, heart racing, barely aware of the person in the overcoat sidling up to Amy as I ran towards her.

At the time, I was thinking that she was the one with the knife, and the power over what was her own dream, so she could save me. (Again, Trixie hit me for that when I was telling this story, because from Amy’s perspective, she was now being accosted on both sides, one side by Overcoat, the other by me and a vampyre.) To perhaps no one’s surprise, Amy froze up.

“Idiots,” I heard Sham say, somewhere off to my left. It sounded like he was now hurrying in as well.

Apparently, Sham the PI was on the level, whereas Amy now had both a stalker and a vampyre to deal with.

That’s when I got knocked to the ground from behind.

It’s only a dream, I told myself as I fell, attempting to defy physics by missing the ground, or at the least springing back up like an acrobat. Instead, I wrenched something, ending up flat on my face, my wrist hurting like hell.

I quickly rolled over while bringing my knee up, which ended up knocking the vampyre aside as it tried to jump on me (or over me?), buying us a few extra seconds.

“Amy,” I called out, tilting my head back. The upside down image I saw involved Amy looking shocked on the park bench, as Sham Spayed got Overcoat into an arm lock. “Do something?”

“What?” she protested.

I was tempted to say ‘anything’ but recognizing that she needed specific directions here, I opted for, “Exert your power and change the setting!”

It was too dark to see the vampyre properly, plus with any luck, a good dose of sunlight would do him in.

“To what?” she still questioned.

My attention was back on the vampyre, as I threw an arm over my lower face and neck. It loomed above me, about to jump again. I think I said something like, “Your favourite dream. Please, Amy, now!”

Have any of you wondered what it’s like to be an animated character, where suddenly a new cel background is dropped in behind you without warning? I’m guessing no, but know that this is the point when I felt about the same way that character would feel.

The park was gone.

So were the muted colours, everything was suddenly rather bright, and I was indoors, near a window. As such, before even taking stock of everything else, I rolled in that direction, into the sunbeam. Only when it didn’t seem like the vampyre was about to reach in after me, did I sit up to take stock of the situation.

This was a residential house. I think we were in the living room, by the hallway for the front door.

The vampyre was on the floor by the couch, also looking around. Sham Spayed seemed to be accosting the coat rack near the entryway, having an empty coat in an armlock. And Amy… well, her hair was no longer purple. But that was the only thing I immediately recognized about her.

She was standing in the middle of the room, holding an older looking lamp in her hands, while dressed head to toe in Arabic looking silks and translucent fabrics. Like a djinn, or genie, basically.

Looking back, the “Aladdin” story may have been where her fascination with lamps started. It was definitely the reason she hadn’t tried to exert control on the dream before, as she’d known this was where her desires would lead, and she hadn’t been certain it would be of any help.

(I can say that definitively because Amy admitted as much to me later. For the record, she didn’t want to talk much about what happened, but as far as this setting goes, she was willing to confirm what I already suspected. Being a genie was a fantasy of hers, and she’d held out some hope of trying this by herself… until I started popping in and out of the dreamworld, speaking about complications.)

“Boss?” Sham said, dropping the overcoat.

He was speaking to the vampyre, who was now rising off the floor. The private investigator’s features morphed then, changing him into a much older looking male with white hair, his height increasing by a few inches as well.

This was the Somnalibus.

The vampyre snarled in his direction. “I thought you still held a measure of control.”

The demon shrugged. “I do. So does she. I couldn’t get the knife away from her.”

“Why were you even helping her out?” the vamp continued. “I was planning on taking over the stalker persona once I’d dealt with Melissa’s interloper here.”

“Earning her trust. A concept I know you have difficulty with.”

Something in the demon’s tone made me look closer at him. He looked back at me, and for a split second, his expression verged on apologetic.

Had his attitude towards me been out of a belief that the vampyre held a measure of control over me? Or that I was some sort of test?

Either way, I judged here that the Somnalibus wasn’t an additional adversary. Not yet. It helped that I had a couple weeks of research to back up Melissa’s initial assessment back after my graduation, namely that these demons were non-confrontational by nature.

The vamp grumbled something under his breath before concluding, “No matter. As long as I feed on these two, I’ll gain enough strength to affect their reality. You just wait for my signal, demon. Since Charlie’s been marked, there will be an unavoidable time lag before I can locate and jump to another willing patsy.”

I struggled to my feet - doing so carefully, to avoid putting any weight on my sore wrist. “But Amy has control of this scene now,” I declared. “You’re at a disadvantage. Surrender, vampyre, and maybe we’ll go easy on you!”

The vampyre turned a look of disbelief on me. “Ha! One of Virga’s associates, showing mercy to an intruder from another realm? Are you stupid, or do you merely have absolutely no idea who you’re working for?”

I was reminded of how this guy knew about Melissa prior to their meeting. Somehow. “Melissa’s fair minded,” I countered. “If you were to agree to a memory wipe prior to a return to your realm, I hardly think…”

He laughed. “No, you hardly do. I can’t believe I didn’t detect her arrival even sooner. Unless, in your realm, we only just entered the window for fulfillment of prophecy…?” His voice trailed off, as he seemed to muse on that.

I risked intruding on his thinking. “Prophecy?”

The vampyre shot me a look. “Never mind. Three months of your time should be more than adequate for reestablishing myself. But first of all…” And he lunged for Amy, who was not in a sunbeam.

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 2c: OF VAMPYRES AND GENIES

I had pulled them out as I reached the bedroom doorway. I’d had no real plan, other than throwing them at the vampyre, but Melissa must have seen them out of the corner of her eye, and she had a better idea.

She pressed the cloves between her palms, saying, “Sublimare.”

When she next opened her palms, the solid garlic had become completely gaseous. A gas which the vampyre inhaled as he again attempted to go for Melissa’s neck.

The vampyre (and Charlie?) screamed.

He screamed like he had just inhaled acid or something, loud enough for me to think that we’d finally alerted the neighbours to something happening here. The vampyre then clawed briefly at its neck, and collapsed. Or rather, Charlie’s body collapsed, as Melissa was about to clarify.

“The Culicinae spirit’s fled,” Melissa said, visibly shaken as she attempted to get back onto her feet.

I gave her a hand in rising, and she shot me a look of thanks. It was surprising how much that made this feel like old times.

“It’ll have retreated back to safety, with the Somnalibus,” Melissa added. “Thus inside Amy’s dream. We’ll need to retrieve the demonic control object, then return to the hotel so that I can perform another invocation, allowing us inside your friend’s dream world. To deal with that vampyre spirit for good.”

“I’ve already been inside Amy’s dream,” I offered. “And I likely will be again. If that’s helpful.”

In fact, it had happened to me once more on my trip over here. Fortunately, not for long, and as I was driving away from an intersection, so not at high speed. Otherwise, there could have been an accident.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

Melissa shot me a look of mild surprise. I don’t often manage to elicit that sort of response from her, and felt perversely pleased.

“You were holding the knife too,” she deduced immediately. “Okay, I can work with that. First, to the washroom.”

By which she meant the last room in the apartment that she hadn’t investigated. Immediately upon opening the door, she saw that the oddly ornate mirror, which was hung overtop of the medicine cabinet, was emitting the glow she was looking for. It’s… probably best not to dwell on the fact that the bathroom had been selected as the location for spying on Amy’s dreams.

Melissa waved her palm over the glass.

“Okay, it’s all the vampyre’s doing,” she decided. “It trapped the Somnalibus here as a way of corrupting Halko, in order to eventually get itself a body."

“Then Charlie’s innocent in all this?” I wondered.

Melissa shook her head. “Not really, he knew what he was doing. Okay James, first you kill or banish the vampyre that’s in Amy’s dream. Otherwise it might get strong enough to escape back into its realm.”

I frowned. “But don’t you want it to go back in its realm? Rather than running loose in ours?”

“He seemed more the type to return here with friends. I think we have to nip this one in the bud. Now, once you’ve dealt with him, I’ll shatter the mirror to release the Somnalibus – which will also eliminate the peculiar crack that this object seems to have generated between us and the Culicinae. Understood?”

I did, actually. Which didn’t mean there weren’t problems. “Thing is, I have no more garlic to attack the vampyre with.”

“Irrelevant, you’ll have to use dream world garlic anyway. Don’t worry, so long as our vampyre is in there, he’s vulnerable to that reality.”

“Amy’s dreams also have no garlic though,” I added.

“Makes sense, because the vampyre was controlling Amy’s dreams through Charlie. However, the Somnalibus should be able to exert more control now, if Amy allows him. Which she can do, seeing as she’s now lucid dreaming. Besides, there’s always the knife, decapitation kills most anything.”

“Um, and how exactly are we supposed to identify this demon – or the vampyre, for that matter?”

“It’s Amy’s dream, not mine,” Melissa said, starting to sound irritated. “Check inside lamps, maybe? You know her better than I do, James, you’ve just spent several weeks with the girl.”

“But I don’t–”

And with the momentary ringing in my ears, I was back inside Amy’s dream.

We seemed to be in a movie theatre now, in the main lobby. There were a handful of others present, but I was able to spot Amy once more, by virtue of her purple hair. I even managed to walk towards her this time, reality not reasserting itself quite as fast as before.

It seemed Amy was talking to a guy in a trench coat and hat. That was a new development.

“It could be an ex-boyfriend after me,” Amy was saying to TrenchCoat, before spotting my approach. “Oh, hello again James.”

I picked up on a bit of resentment there. I imagine she wasn’t thrilled with how I kept coming and going.

“And who’s this then?” TrenchCoat demanded.

“This is James. My current boyfriend,” Amy answered with a little sigh, before fully turning to me. “I was just explaining to Sham Spayed here about my stalker problem.”

The ‘boyfriend’ thing worried me, but then, this was her dream. I decided to take the comment in stride. “This is the private investigator you were going to see earlier,” I deduced. “The one who vanished.”

“Mmm,” Sham said, noncommittally. “Yeah, sorry about being called away suddenly, but I’m on the case now. So, Ms. Lampana, you said you had only a knife with which to defend yourself? Let me have a look at it.”

I immediately realized that the reappearance of the private investigator, and disappearance of the vampyre in reality, couldn’t be complete coincidence. Also, that it might be a bad idea, letting the PI have the knife that was acting as a focus for Amy’s lucid dreaming.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t voice any of that, because I again found myself back in Charlie Halko’s bathroom.

Melissa had apparently used the intervening time to pull the mirror down off the wall. (She later told me that she’d also checked that Charlie’s pulse was normal. In the end, once he came to, Charlie was pretty shaken by the incident. He swore off internet videos, which meant that Amy didn’t have to take out a restraining order against him.)

“We’re going back to the hotel,” the brunette declared, upon seeing me alert once more. She then half led, half dragged me back towards the apartment door, in passing switching off the lamp that she’d illuminated.

“Wait,” I protested, still parsing what I’d seen in Amy’s dream. “From what I just saw, I think I’d better return to the dreamworld, sooner rather than later.” Another thought occurred. “And is there some way to prevent me from being pulled back and forth at these really inconvenient times??”

“Let’s get to your car,” Melissa said succinctly. “Once there, I’ll put a conditional on you, allowing you to be in the dream permanently from that entry time up until, let’s say two minutes after you next touch the talisman knife. If you return to reality before I can enter as well, I’ll know it’s time to destroy the mirror. Sound good?”

“Two minutes? What if I need more time?”

“Don’t. I want to smash the mirror as soon after the vampyre’s defeat as possible, to prevent other incursions. But breaking it will free the demon, and subsequently cause Amy to wake up. You’ll really need to be out before then.”

“Oh, good…” I think that was Melissa’s way of telling me I might become trapped in the dream.

By this point we were in the hall, having closed Charlie’s apartment up. That seemed to be the cue for one of the adjacent apartment doors to open a crack.

“Hey, uh, did you hear screams?” a guy said tentatively from behind a chain lock.

“Tenant here REALLY didn’t like the mirror we brought him,” I offered up, thinking fast and gesturing at the object Melissa was holding.

“Ah.” A pause. “Right.” The guy’s door closed again.

People believe what they want to believe.

We hurried out to my car, this time with Melissa in the driver’s seat, the mirror tossed into the back. She turned to look at me.

“Incidentally, if you get the chance, ask the vampyre how it knew my name. If I’m becoming known outside of our realm, I’d like to know why. Now, are you ready?”

I took a deep breath. “I think I –”

“Dormis,” Melissa stated, tapping her index finger on my forehead.

I was back in the movie theatre.

The first thing I noticed was Amy and the PI both holding onto the knife from before, with him seemingly examining it. Now, I know that in theory once you start lucid dreaming, you don’t suddenly forget you’re in a dream, but we were bending the rules as it was – plus one can spontaneously wake up from a lucid dream, and I’m not sure where that would put me.

I quickly strode the two paces back over, saying, “Amy, don’t lose your grip on the knife.”

I almost reached out for it myself, before remembering that doing so would start the countdown for my own exit from the dreamworld. There was a lot to keep track of here.

Amy turned back to me. Her grip on the weapon remained firm, which was good as it seemed to me like Sham attempted to use her momentary distraction to jerk it away… but then maybe I was reading too much into him shifting his weight back and forth.

“James, can you stop running off already?” she said, trying not to sound exasperated (and failing).

“Yup,” I affirmed. “This time, I’m here until the conclusion.”

I shared a glance with Sham, the PI. His eyes narrowed a bit, but otherwise he remained pretty inscrutable.

“Fine, well, keep the knife then,” he concluded, releasing his own hold on the object.

Amy slipped it back into the pocket of the jacket she was wearing, still mostly looking at me. Possibly wondering if I was actually me, or if my declaration meant she’d manifested me as part of her dream. Hopefully my knowing about the knife’s significance was proof enough for her.

“Now, Ms. Lampana,” Sham droned on. “I know you said you preferred to keep somewhere public, but that won’t be possible all the time. Best we set up a situation now, where we can coax this stalker of yours out of hiding. We’ll confront him before he becomes violent.”

“Really?” Amy said, dubiously. She looked at me.

“Actually, yeah, the sooner the better,” I agreed.

My reasoning was, with too many people around, it would be really hard to get a read on where the vampyre was hiding. Moreover, if Sham’s setup seemed sketchy, I’d know he was the vampyre. Plus, in the back of my head, I was worried that the longer this went on, the more likely Amy would wake up of her own accord, possibly trapping me.

“Oh,” Amy concluded, rather nonplussed.

In retrospect, I completely understand her reaction. Sham and I were effectively telling Amy to put herself in harm’s way of a stalker. If it makes you feel any better about my insensitivity, Trixie gave me what for about this later, smacking my head as she pointed out that I was an idiot for not considering what kind of suggestion that was for a female.

“Don’t forget, ultimately you have control over what happens,” was all I said at the time.

She smiled uncertainly at that. After all, this was only a dream. A lucid dream that, by now, Amy should have had some control over.

Which was when it struck me how pedestrian things had remained. No magical beings or flying cars to be seen… Amy was either keeping things low key, or had not yet bothered to exert her will on the situation.

Had it been me lucid dreaming, I suspect by that point I’d have tried flying, or casting spells the way Melissa could. It made me even more aware of how incompatible Amy and I might be, long term.

“Good, then here’s what I’m proposing,” Sham went on, oblivious to the situation between us.

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 2b: OF VAMPYRES AND GENIES

“Watch out for my lights,” Charlie shouted at her, baring his teeth in anger. Which was Melissa’s first real clue as to his nature, what with two of his teeth being pointed fangs.

“Oh, perfect,” Melissa said sarcastically. (For the record, I seem to have taught Melissa sarcasm to the point where she now does it without me there. Is that good?)

Opting for avoidance, my former roommate faked left, then moved right, throwing open the doors of one of the other closed rooms. It was the bedroom, and again, pretty much what you’d expect to see there, albeit in this case including the existence of more lamps. Also, a couple of printouts of Amy in different wigs tacked up on the wall.

Nothing seemed to be glowing. So either the item controlling the Somnalibus in Amy’s dreams was in the last room, or it had been quickly hidden away somewhere.

Charlie was fast, though. Melissa has since remarked that it’s the fast reflexes and healing properties of his breed of vampyres that make them formidable opponents, rather than their physical strength. She barely had time to turn before she was being forced to back up, right into that bedroom.

While there existed the option to flee through the window (it was only the second story, plus there was a chance of grabbing at the nearby balcony - albeit equally a chance of getting tangled in the large black curtain), Melissa didn’t like her odds of getting back into the residence afterwards.

She grabbed a lamp instead, brandishing it in the a dim light entering from the main living area.

“I’ll smash this into the dresser,” she warned.

“I’ll stop you in time,” Charlie countered, poised to spring. “And then you’ll regret it.”

“You can’t be a hundred percent sure, or you would have jumped by now,” Melissa countered. “Perhaps we could talk about this.”

“You broke into my place, there’s nothing to discuss,” he shot back.

“How about the fact that you’re being possessed by a vampyre spirit of the Culicinae realm, who’s been gaining power over you by having a Somnalibus demon respond to your commands.”

Charlie stared. “How did you work THAT out?” he said, rather taken aback.

I was rather impressed myself (after the fact), given how Trixie had needed a few minutes of web searching to come to the same conclusion.

(“It was a bit of a reach,” Melissa told me later. “But along with his fast reactions and pointed teeth, there was the comfort of blackness in his place, the playing up of an obsession implying a compulsive personality, and finally a faint buzzing noise when he spoke. Trixie can research all she likes, it’s no substitute for being out in the field, James.”)

“Irrelevant,” is how Melissa responded at the time. “The point is, unless you actually WANT to become a being that requires blood for sustenance, Charlie, you need my help.”

A few emotions ran over Charlie’s face at that point. Melissa wasn’t able to describe them to me, at the time she simply held her ground, figuring any sudden moves would only help the vampyre spirit reassert itself.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

After what the brunette estimated to be about five minutes, but which no doubt felt even longer, Charlie spoke again. “I… I just want it to be over,” he said.

Melissa almost relaxed.

Charlie bared his fangs. “And if were to drink the blood of a true spell caster, like yourself, my transformation would finally be complete.”

Melissa pursed her lips. “Right, well, that’s not going to happen,” she sighed. “So, better decision, we excise the vampyre, so that it can be destroyed, freeing you to make more sensible choices.”

The dark haired man stared, and then bared his teeth again. “You are no match for us. For ME. Surrender now, and I promise not to drain you completely dry, witch.”

“Several minutes to think, and yet you still make the wrong decision,” Melissa said with another sigh. She raised her free hand into the air to snap her fingers, whilst muttering under her breath, “Illusio, Culincinae!”

Immediately, her form changed. Bumps appeared on her forehead, as two of her teeth lengthened into fangs. She drew herself to her full height, and then a bit more, before glaring, her green eyes momentarily flickering red.

“What about now?” Melissa challenged. “Same strength and speed as you, plus magical control. I suggest YOU surrender.”

Charlie took a half step back - only to reassert his pose and look smug. “I’m not stupid,” he declared. “A transformation like that is impossible to maintain. And your type cannot weild magick with the intent to cause harm, even against – I’d even say particularly against – your own self. So you cannot change your body chemistry to be vampyric on a whim, any more than I could change into a bat at any time of my choosing.”

Melissa stared. “No?”

“No. Otherwise, your human body would rebel, the same way humans need compatible blood when receiving donations. No, young witch, I have seen through you. You are out of your league here.”

Melissa’s eyes narrowed. “You seem to know an awful lot, considering you’re from another realm, Culicinae.”

Charlie – or really the vampyre, as Charlie had almost completely given up control by now – shrugged. “The more the balance on your Earth is thrown off, the more the barriers are breaking down. Faster and faster, of late. Perhaps it would be a mercy for you to die now, before it gets really bad? I can help you there.”

Melissa snapped her fingers in the air again, dispelling the illusion she’d crafted about herself. It had obviously not had the desired effect, and took at least marginal effort for her to maintain, effort she preferred to put elsewhere. Though she remained standing as tall as she could.

“Thing is, I’m going to keep it from getting really bad,” she stated coldly. “Starting with you.”

That brought the vampyre up short even more than Melissa’s vampire image had. There’s a certain tone she brings out on occasion, one that brooks no argument, and when accompanied by a look, Mel can have people obeying her almost before they know it.

Then, as if sensing he was on the verge of losing the advantage (or possibly losing control back to Charlie), the vampyre sprang.

Melissa threw the lamp at Charlie’s head.

With the reflexes of a cat, he caught it in midair with one hand, as his other moved to deliver an uppercut.

But Melissa wasn’t there any more.

She had edged to the side, then jumped over onto the bed. After one jump to turn her body back around - as well as test the springs - she coiled her body up, then sprang for the ceiling.

Accomplishing a flip around in midair, Melissa landed back in the bedroom doorway, and then strode quickly out of harm’s way. Or that had been the plan, at least.

The vampyre was a little bit faster than her.

Charlie had swiftly set the lamp aside, then headed back for the door, rather than aiming another blow for Melissa in the air. As such, he managed to grab a handful of my witch friend’s long hair as she fled through the doorframe, then used his hold to yank her back inside.

This had the added bonus of pulling her off balance.

He then twisted the hair around his hand, pulling Melissa’s head off to the side and baring his fangs. She could feel his breath on her skin as he moved to sink his teeth into the unobstructed view of her neck.

“Saeta!” Melissa gasped out.

With that, Melissa’s hair came alive. At least, it did so in that it attempted to twist away from Charlie’s grasp, while at the same time frizzing up and getting in his face, blocking the easy path to her skin.

“Pffth!” the vampyre said, now having to try and spit out a mouthful of her elegantly shampooed hair in order to again go for the jugular. Facing away from him, her next move involved lifting her foot and kicking back towards his legs.

Melissa was successful with one blow, which was immediately followed by the vampyre shoving her into the wall. Hard, and headfirst.

Melissa was unable to brace herself, or prevent her body from collapsing onto the floor, but she at least managed to turn so that the two of them were facing each another once again. She then raised one hand, preparing to deflect the next attack, her hair still attempting to defy gravity as it waved in the air.

In Melissa’s later account, she told me that it was only at this point that she really considered going on the offensive. However, I will say that she has some difficulty with that sort of mindset, plus she wanted to avoid too much collateral damage to the apartment complex. In particular, fire, her best bet against a vampyre, was liable to spread, particularly given the abundance of curtains and other flammable material.

Even as she considered her options, the vampyre grabbed the bedspread and threw it at where she sat on the floor, following it up by leaping at her himself. He was probably reasoning that she’d be preoccupied with removing the sheet, leaving herself exposed to attack.

Except Melissa simply let the spread fall upon her, which made it even more difficult for the vampire to find an opening. Granted, it also served to restrict Melissa’s movements even more.

Ultimately, the vampyre found itself trying to yank the sheet away again.

Which is where he got a bit of a break, in that one of Melissa’s arms had become tangled in the folds. So, by tossing the sheet back behind himself, she was pulled back towards him, and the fabric fell away, giving him another clear chance at a bite.

Her palm went to his chin, to keep him from biting. But at this point, there was no way she could keep him off her indefinitely, not without causing collateral damage.

This is when I arrived.

Trixie’s skeleton key having been successful at granting me access to the building, I burst through the still unlocked apartment door, quickly taking stock of the situation.

Namely, nothing happening, a flickering lamp providing the only light. But it sounded like there was a scuffle in the bedroom.

“Melissa?” I called out, risking drawing attention to myself as I hurried towards the doorway.

The vampyre froze. “Melissa… not Melissa Virga?” the possessed Charlie said, his eyes growing larger as he looked down at the brunette witch.

“Behind you,” Melissa said, throwing her voice to a position near his right ear. (Have I mentioned Melissa picked up ventriloquism in her youth?)

The vampyre jerked his head that way, allowing Melissa to smack his face, spinning him off balance for a change, the diminutive brunette then scurrying out of his clutches and off towards me, though never taking her gaze away from him.

“How can you know me?” she demanded.

Because he had, in fact, used her full, true name, not the pseudonyms I’m using as I publish Melissa’s cases here.

He simply stared at her again. Then the grin came back, and it made my blood run cold.

“I can be the one to ensure that you never restore the balance,” the Culicinae vampyre declared, his eyes taking on a hint of the crazy. As if it no longer mattered what happened to him. “I can be a hero to my realm.”

And with that, the vampyre launched himself at her once more.

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 2a: OF VAMPYRES AND GENIES

Feeling momentarily disoriented, I took a half step back before evaluating my surroundings. Large wooden desk, coat rack, filing cabinet, no obvious windows. That is, the door had a window, but the glass was frosted. Had I just been magically teleported somewhere? If so, it wouldn’t have been the first time.

Lacking anything better to do, I moved to open the door and peer outside.

On the other side of it was Amy, although she seemed to have purple hair. Like in one of her reviews, except it didn’t look like a wig, the colour looked completely natural. She looked equally startled to see me.

“James?” she said in confusion. She looked down at the rather familiar knife in her hand, then back up. “Did I summon you here? Because the private investigator I was hiring a minute ago just seemed to vanish on me when I turned–”

And then just like that, I was back in the hotel.

“–like an idiot,” Trixie concluded.

“Whoa, what?” I placed a hand to the side of my head to steady myself.

“I said you could actually suggest pertinent details from Amy’s recurring dreams, or continue to stand there like an idiot,” the redheaded witch reiterated without missing a beat, still scrolling through the internet using her electronic device.

“I think I just saw it,” I admitted. “She was with a private investigator.”

“Vampyr PIs, okay, that narrows it down to Moonlight, Angel, Forever Knight, maybe True Blood – no, wait, Blood Ties…” Trixie stopped and looked back up. “JUST saw? Wait. Were you also holding onto the talisman when Amy fell asleep?”

“Yeah.”

Trixie stared. “Huh. That’s either brilliant, or idiotic. I know which direction I’m leaning, but then again, maybe you do have some usefulness after all. Go fig.”

She finally lowered her keyboard to continue. “Look, there’s a good chance Amy’s dreams were being used as a kind of self insertion fanfiction. Can you recall anything more about a dream motif on her end that might lead us towards the kind of vampyr we’re dealing with?”

“Uh…” I tried to recall some of the information I’d previously passed on to Melissa. “The theme was often film noir, so not a lot of sunlight.”

“Yeah, but no vampyre types like sun, it doesn’t even kill all of them, and right now it’s 11 PM, so Missy can’t use that. Next?”

“Okay, euh… oh, countdowns. There was almost always a countdown to some event or other celebration in a lot of the dreams Amy could remember.”

“So now we’re leaning towards the more OCD vampyres, like the ones from X-Files or the Count from Sesame Street. Better. More?”

“I…”

With a slight ping in my ears, I was back in Amy’s dreamworld again. This time I was standing in a lobby. It seemed likely that I was in the same building that the PI’s office had been in during my last trip, as I saw Amy walking across the open area, towards the front doors.

“Amy!” I called out to her, hurrying to catch up. “Where are you going?”

She turned. “James? You’re back! I… I was thinking I should be somewhere surrounded by people. Or should I just wake up? I mean, if the investigator was Charlie, and he’s not here any more?”

“No,” I said hastily, which I then attempted to clarify. “There’s been complications. What I need to know is –”

How could I put it incredibly succinctly? There was no telling how much time I had left here! But just like that, I had it. “Is there anything that you particularly enjoy in real life, that you never, ever, remember having or seeing while you’re inside of these dreams?”

Amy blinked, and her brow creased a bit as she looped a bit of purple hair back off her ear. “Wow, no pressure, huh? Um… oh! Would garlic bread count? That and bruschetta, it’s never on the menus in the restaurants which–”

“–are being increasingly unhelpful,” Trixie concluded in annoyance, as I adjusted to my return to reality.

“Garlic,” I said firmly. “Garlic’s been absent from Amy’s dreams. It must be a particular weakness.”

“Says who?” Trixie said dismissively. “Vampyres have heightened senses, which are irritated by items like allium sativum.” Then her head canted to the side, one of her two red twintails swishing over her shoulder. “Unless?”

She resumed tapping at her keyboard.

“Unless?” I prompted after a second or two.

“Culicinae realm,” the redhead muttered. “It fits, but realistically there’s no way Charlie would know about it. Still…” She punched a final button, then spoke into her phone. “Rixi, garlic cloves.”

“All right,” the device intoned back. It didn’t sound like Siri, the voice was an electronic variation on Trixie’s own voice. “Accessing.”

Having backpedalled a step or two at the sound, I stepped forwards again. Only to take another step back as a small globe of light appeared, hovering over the screen. Inside the glowing sphere, what looked like a few cloves of garlic appeared; Trixie grabbed them, which dispelled the light.

Sensing (or expecting?) my amazement, the young witch shot me a knowing grin. “My own personal Siri, connected to my magical hammerspace. Did I mention I have an IQ of 151?”

“Um, no,” I said. I supposed I could believe it, she seemed to know exactly what she was doing. “And why do you have a hammerspace full of garlic?”

“I’ve had to eat Missy’s cooking,” Trixie said with a shrug. “Remind me to impress you more later, for now, we’d better get this to my cousin.” She strode over towards the door – which I now realized had been partly ajar throughout the whole conversation – then looked back at me expectantly.

“Trixie, I can’t leave Amy,” I pointed out, gesturing at the bed.

At that moment, my Asian friend stirred a little, and I found myself standing outside on a street, no doubt in her dream again. However, this time, before I could even get a handle on exactly where Amy was, I was back in the motel room, so all that really happened was I missed the gist of what Trixie was saying. Something about driving.

“Sorry, mentally absent again,” I apologized.

Trixie pressed a palm to her forehead, and then spoke with deliberate enunciation. “Me no license. Cannot teleport somewhere new. Car faster than broom. You drive?”

“I can, but someone has to stay with Amy,” I reiterated. “If she gets in trouble in the dream, someone may need to wake her up.”

“Seriously?” Trixie made a bit of a pouty face as she stared at me. Just as I was wondering if her interpersonal skills were really any better than Melissa’s, she reached out to grab my hand.

“Fine,” the redhead said, handing over the garlic, along with another object that she pulled from her pocket. “Skeleton key,” she explained as I looked down at it. “It’s how I got in here.”

She then rattled off an address and apartment number. “But hurry up,” Trixie finished. “While I’m sure my cousin can hold her own, it’s better for all of us if she doesn’t get bitten by any lurking vampyres in the process, hm?”

Given how it had already been close to five minutes since I’d sent the text, and from what I recalled of the town’s road map, it was liable to take me another five to get over to Melissa’s location… I hurried up.

For her part, Melissa hadn’t wasted any time in shutting her phone completely off after receiving my message. She even admitted later that she hadn’t fully read what I’d sent, so perhaps I could have texted anything. For the sake of the narrative, I’ll give you the gist of what happened here, as I was talking with Trixie.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

Focused on the task at hand, Melissa began by using a picture of a key (and a little magick) to trip the lock on the apartment complex. When that worked, she decided that the complex itself wasn’t housing a lot of witches, or at least that there was not liable to be any magical protection outside of Carlie Halko’s apartment.

Melissa then proceeded up the stairs and to the apartment door in question, taking just a moment to listen against it, figuring it was possible that Charlie wasn’t alone inside. As it turned out, she was correct in that, though not in the typical sense.

Hearing nothing, she gently tried the door – locked, eliminating the excuse of meaning to have gone next door – and proceeded to knock.

Some might find this tipping of her hand to be a curious decision, but understand that Melissa had held some hope that Charlie would be reasonable when confronted with the truth of the situation. Plus there was always the chance that she and Trixie had been wrong about his involvement, and on top of this, Melissa says deadbolts are a pain to deal with, even using magick.

There was no answer, but my former roommate later indicated to me that, at this point, she thought she heard someone moving around inside. Melissa then tried to open the door using the old trick of sliding a piece of plastic between the lock and the doorframe. (Well, it wasn’t plastic per se, but you get the gist.)

This being a more conventional way to break and enter, it could have tipped her off as to the extent of actual magical protection on the door, as well as informed her as to how much force she might need to use on a more unconventional attempt.

However, with a click, it felt like the door completely unlocked at this one attempt.

That immediately ramped up Melissa’s level of concern. Either Charlie was way too overconfident, or he was forgetful, or… he was otherwise prepared for this sort of eventuality.

She turned the knob slowly and pushed the door open.

At that point, all Melissa could register was that it was dark. Even the curtains leading to the small balcony were blacked out, meaning the only light spilling in was from the hall.

Committed now, Melissa took a step or two, attuning her senses to the talisman that Amy had, looking for a trace of it to pinpoint the Somnalibus as soon as possible.

The door swung shut.

Melissa ducked instinctively, having caught sight of movement out of the corner of her eye. The frying pan whizzed over her head, and the person swinging it was put off balance. (Of note, her small stature can be an advantage at times like this.)

During Melissa’s initial scan, in the available light from the hallway, she had remembered seeing a light switch, and dove for it now. Hoping to gain the advantage, given that Charlie’s eyes were obviously attuned to the darkness, while she had the opposite problem.

But despite flipping the switch, no light came on.

Melissa hadn’t brought a flashlight; she doesn’t like to weigh herself down with useless items. So her backup plan became a lamp on a nearby table.

Ducking again and heading over, she didn’t even fumble for the lamp’s switch, instead reaching out to touch the bulb, then calling, “Luminarium!” The lamp switched on, revealing… a lot more lamps.

As far as layout went, Charlie’s apartment door opened into a main living area and kitchen. Apart from the closet (where Melissa deduced that her assailant had crouched when she knocked), there were two other doors. But what really drew her attention now was how a lot of available space was taken up with lights and lamps.

Ones that Amy had reviewed in her online web series.

Of course, Charlie was also visible now, brandishing the same frying pan which he’d swung earlier. He was of medium build, with short dark hair, wearing a button up shirt and pants.

“Witch!” he called out, recognizing the use of a spell (and not, presumably, fumbling a ‘b’). He flung his frying pan right at Melissa’s head, despite blinking to adjust to the illumination.

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 1f: OF WITCHES AND DEMONS

“You once told me she’d be broke by now if it weren’t for you helping her plan out some investments,” Amy pointed out.

“Well, there’s that. No one’s perfect.”

“Also, she’s rude and insensitive.”

“Not out of spite. You just have to get to know her.”

Amy continued to look at me quietly for a moment. “You talk a lot about Melissa,” she said at last.

I blinked. Did I really? “Oh. Um, sorry?”

Amy shook her head. “Don’t apologize, it’s just… I don’t know. Never mind.”

Amy pulled away and rose off the bed again. “I should probably get ready to sleep,” she concluded, moving towards her overnight bag. Setting the knife on the side table, she stretched her arms over her head before reaching down to pick her bag up. “Now, no peeking,” she added, teasingly waggling a finger.

“Of course,” I retorted, pressing a hand to my chest and looking indignant as she vanished into the bathroom.

Though, truth be told, I was still a little hung up on Amy’s prior remark. With her out of the room, I used my eidetic memory to flash back to a few of my conversations over the last three weeks. Melissa had, in fact, come up in a lot of them, in one form or another.

Was I really living a life without Melissa? And was that really what I wanted?

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

For a minute, I worried that I had turned into one of those guys who’s always obliviously droning on about his ex-girlfriend. If that was the case, why hadn’t Amy said something sooner? After all, Melissa sure would have said something if… damn it, there she was again.

Amy was right, I couldn’t get her out of my head.

I forced myself to calm down and assess things a bit more rationally. It wasn’t quite as bad as it seemed. Yes, Melissa had come up in conversations, but usually only in passing, in connection to a topic already being discussed. I wasn’t purposefully mentioning her name, or drawing comparisons between the two girls, like an idiot. Melissa had simply been THERE the entire time I was in university.

Consider that game ‘Taboo’, where you have to make a person guess a word without using any of five words associated with it. Not as easy as it sounds. In the same vein, Melissa couldn’t help but be associated with a lot of words in my life. So to speak.

However.

It finally dawned on me that I’d been treating the last few weeks almost like a vacation, like “down time”. But a vacation from what? Was it in the back of my head that I’d be going back to Melissa’s agency?

Also, while I’d been enjoying my time with Amy, I hadn’t felt like she needed me the way Melissa did. Oh sure, I was helping Amy out, but I’m she could just as easily have found someone else to be a bodyguard. Could the same thing be said of the help I gave to Melissa? Because honestly, I didn’t mind helping her with organization or finance. It helped give me purpose, and she was appreciative.

Also, what of the way Melissa had been helping me to see the world?

One other point of comparison flashed into my head then, as Melissa had predicted three weeks ago. For the record, I’m not exactly proud of what I did next. When Amy came out of the bathroom, dressed in her pyjamas, I moved in close… and kissed her.

This wasn’t completely out of left field. We had almost kissed on one prior occasion, a goodnight kiss when dropping her off, and I’d been the one to turn away at the last moment. Which might be why Amy went along with it now, not shoving me or saying “what the hell?” or anything.

No, she simply kissed me back for a second or two before marginally tilting her head away.

“Why James, what prompted that?” she said coyly, slightly raising an eyebrow.

“I…” Words failed me. ‘I wanted to see if I’d enjoy a kiss with you as much as I had with Melissa’ was definitely the wrong thing to say. I wondered if Melissa would have said it anyway. “I wanted to make sure you had pleasant dreams tonight,” I managed.

I think Amy sensed there was more to it than that, but either she didn’t want to confront the issue, or she didn’t want to admit it to herself. Instead, she smiled. “Works for me!” Giving me a quick hug, she then went back over to the desk to pick up the knife, meaning she was facing away from me.

I brushed my fingers against my lips. Had Amy’s kiss been better? Worse? Well, it had been different. And maybe, in the end, that’s what was at the heart of the matter. Did I want new and different, like Amy? Or back to more of the same with Melissa? Not that any of Melissa’s cases could ever truly be called “the same” as another.

“Would you mind holding this until I actually fall asleep, then slipping it into my hand?” Amy requested, turning back and holding the knife out. “I want to minimize the chance that I’ll roll over and accidentally impale myself.”

I latched onto the change of subject. “I wouldn’t mind. But it might be that you have to be holding it when you nod off. I don’t want to be responsible for screwing up the enchantment.”

“Huh. Well, at least hold my hand too, until I’m sleeping then?”

“I… sure,” I agreed after a momentary hesitation. After all, after having kissed, that seemed like a perfectly reasonable request.

Amy got under the covers, with the exception of the arm holding the knife, and I stretched out next to her on top of the sheets, reaching over to clasp the knife along with her, as requested. She then activated it using the trigger word. The knife seemed to glow momentarily.

“Hopefully after tonight, we can put all this supernatural craziness behind us,” the dark haired girl finished with a sigh.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer. Because to hear her say that finally helped me realize that I didn’t WANT to put it behind me.

I didn’t want to go through life doing a mundane job with normal people. I wanted life to be a little adventurous, a little crazy, a little… Melissa. And as far as the romance angle went, sure, Melissa only had two settings. Hot and cold. While Amy, she had layers. But with Melissa, you always knew where you stood.

I then wondered whether a mild form of Stockholm Syndrome could have been involved.

I took more time to turn things around in my head again, as Amy slowly nodded off. But ultimately, I arrived at the point where you entered this story. Looking down at my childhood friend, then at the knife, then towards the window, I realized that Melissa Virga was the one for me. Or at least, that she was the one for me at this point in my life.

At last, I had a pathway forwards.

Noting Amy’s regular breathing, I carefully pulled my hand away from the knife, pulled my phone from my pocket, and texted Melissa that Amy was asleep.

About two seconds later, the motel room door flew open, revealing a freckled redhead, sporting two twintails. She was dressed in a sleeveless collared shirt, which was grey with blue highlights, along with a short skirt and matching stockings. The outfit screamed “schoolgirl”, but while she looked sixteen, I found out later that she wasn’t much younger than I was.

The first words she hissed at me were, “Don’t send Melissa a message.”

The redheaded teenager’s voice clicked right away. I realized we’d spoken on the phone once before. “Trixie?” I said uncertainly, and quietly, so as to not wake Amy.

“Duh,” Trixie retorted, her voice similarly muted. “Oh, wait, let me guess, my cousin didn’t mention that the two of us had taken a room at the motel too?”

“No,” I admitted, rising gingerly from the bed to approach. I glanced at our motel room door. “Also, I was sure I’d locked that.”

Trixie made a show of waving her palm in a large arc in front of her. “Hiiiii. Witch. Locked motel door, not a problem, they open for anyone with a ‘key’.”

She paused, then canted her head to the side in a way that I can only describe as being remarkably cute. “So, you’re James. Wow, you’re a LOT more drab in person. Missy is actually terrible at disseminating information. Why did you leave her, exactly?"

“Hey!” I protested. “I didn’t… leave her. Not really. I just needed some time away.”

“Psssh. You don’t hire your cousin to handle your technology if you think your ex-boyfriend is coming back. Not that I care about your relationship, you realize. I simply wish Missy could’ve shut up about you for longer than five minutes.”

That remark caught me off guard. “Mel used to mention me?”

“Duh, she sure did. It’s partly why I was interested in meeting…” Trixie’s voice trailed off and her eyes narrowed. “Are you having second thoughts about her? Oh lordy, you are. C’mon, you’re not THAT plain. You could do SO much better than Missy. Even within the magick community. You know that, right?"

“What?”

“There are witches who do tech, y’know. For example, there’s me! A witch who’s nearly twenty, and who can actually carry on an intelligible conversation on Skype.” She smiled and clasped her hands behind her back, leaning forwards alluringly. “I dress better than Missy too, hmmmm? You like?”

“Uh, yes. I mean, no. I mean, you dress different, but why are you even dressed that way?”

I was a little troubled in the way my eyes responded to her lean by slipping away from her face. I registered only that Trixie probably had the ability to do bikini modelling the way Melissa could model jeans, before forcing my gaze back up. In my defence, I was tired.

“I like keeping people off balance,” Trixie answered, flashing a smile. “Also, if someone’s talking to my chest, they’re not noticing the evil look in my eye.”

I felt like this conversation was going off the rails. “Look, Trixie, why exactly should I not have sent that text to Melissa?” I questioned.

Her eyes widened. “Sent? Past tense sent, as in she’s about to attack the vampyre, sent?”

“Yeah, uh… vampire?”

Trixie strode forwards and smacked the back of my head. “Idiot, when I tell you not to send a message, don’t let me flirt, tell me right AWAY that it’s too late,” she muttered.

She then pulled a small device out of a pocket in her top. It looked sort of like a cellphone with built-in keyboard, as in an old style Blackberry, but it seemed to have a glowing red crystal embedded in it. Trixie began to poke at the buttons with her thumbs.

“Sh-Should I wake Amy up?”

“No, idiot, that just means Missy wouldn’t know what object to destroy. Assuming she even can, given how she’s not expecting to have to fight a vampyre to get to it… you know, maybe I CAN see why you ended up stuck with Melissa for four years. What’s going on in your head, James?”

“Trixie, please back up, when exactly did vampires enter the picture?”

“Vampyres, elongate the i. And they came in about five minutes ago, when I finally clued in as to the nature of the phrase Charlie Halko uses in his .signature file.”

“Okay, so, Charlie’s a vampyre…?”

The redhead continued to tap away. “No, but he’s gained the ability to emulate one. Which is surprisingly unhelpful given the twelve dozen or so vampyre variations there are out there. I’m trying to narrow it down.” She turned her screen briefly to allow me to see it. “See? TV Tropes, Our Vampires Are Different.”

The screen of her device was faintly glowing red, as opposed to blue. My best guess was that the red crystal was giving Trixie internet access via a nearby wifi. Whether she had a password or not.

“I’d better text Melissa again,” I realized.

“Oh sure, because Missy’ll drop everything to read a TEXT,” Trixie said, rolling her eyes in a good imitation of her cousin. She was immediately back to her web surfing. “For that matter, why not just PHONE Missy, alert EVERYONE to how she’s breaking and entering? Man, just when I thought you couldn’t be even more of an idiot.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” I demanded, starting to feel panicky but still wanting to keep my voice down. Behind us, Amy let out a little moan and twisted a little in the sheets.

That’s when things got really crazy.

END ACT 1

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 1e: OF WITCHES AND DEMONS

As Melissa had suggested, I spent all that time with Amy, after moving back to my hometown and staying with my parents.

The justification was that I was keeping Amy safe, being a sort of bodyguard, as well as gathering information. Which was partially true – I did get some hints about pieces of dreams, and information about fans who had sent her messages in the past, all of which I relayed on to Melissa.

Yet at the same time, I couldn’t deny that I was also taking the opportunity to see what life would be like without the presence of supernatural investigating. What life would be like without Melissa.

It wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would be. On some level, that worried me.

I thought I’d be yearning for Melissa’s arms. Instead, I was realizing that half the time my interactions with her had involved me trying to make sure she had an income, and was functioning in modern society. The other half of the time had been spent trying to figure Mel out – her deductive skills, her thought processes, her romantic preferences, et cetera. For the first time in a long time, I no longer felt like had to concern myself with those things.

I DO grant that part of the trouble there could have been my balancing all of that with university classes as well. We all need some downtime, and I hadn’t had any of that in a long time either. Now I had both downtime, and time away from Melissa.

However, in a related note, I wasn’t seeing supernatural events everywhere, which others were writing off as natural phenomena. And that had been one of my other big concerns. Had Melissa known that I needed to experience this?

Finally, there’s the fact that Amy was kind of fun to be around.

I watched her do one of her online episodes, and helped to lay some of the groundwork for her newsletter. We went on what some might classify as dates, though neither of us admitted to each other that that’s what a dinner out was. (My parents, you might imagine, had no problems with the label.)

I also watched Amy sleep, in what we assured ourselves was a purely professional capacity, to see if there were any clues to be garnered there. There didn’t seem to be. (Note I didn’t actually share her bed, and I tried to behave in as much of a non-creepy way as possible.)

Then, I got the phone call.

“Amy’s stalker creep is Charlie Halko,” the female said on the other end of the line. “Missy wants you to bring Amy to a motel just outside the town where he lives. Within the next two or three days, if possible. I’ll email you the info, it’s not overseas or anything. Alright?”

I stared at my phone. “W-Who is this?”

“Trixie. This is James, yeah?”

“Yes… um, you’re working with Melissa?”

A pause. “O. M. G,” the female said at last. “Four years, FOUR FREAKING YEARS with my cousin, and she NEVER mentioned me?”

I did a quick scan back in my semi-photographic memory. “No…?”

Come to think, Melissa had never mentioned any relatives at all, not that I’d ever asked. But I suppose it stood to reason that someone within her family would have made a good replacement for me.

“Missy is SO going to hear from me about that!” came Trixie’s sharp voice. And she hung up.

I never got the email, instead getting the particulars from Melissa herself, when she called me an hour later. Apparently Trixie had told her to “send James the info your own damn self, he doesn’t know me”. More on Melissa’s cousin later.

Amy and I met up with Melissa Virga two days following, at the motel she had recommended.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

“So here’s the thing,” Melissa said, pacing back and forth in front of the motel room window. (I’d drawn the curtains, of course, so no one could see us. For all I knew, this Halko guy had magical means of knowing Amy was in town, and was looking for her.) “Charlie must be using some kind of item to control the Somnibulus. Problem: I’m going to have no way of identifying what that object might be, and defusing it, unless it’s active.”

“So you need me to fall asleep,” Amy deduced. She was sitting in the only chair in the room, at the desk near the television. I was sitting on a corner of the bed.

Melissa made a little gesture, indicating agreement. “You released a new episode two days ago, and James told me that you’ve had the most difficulty getting a restful sleep in the days after a publication. Plus it’s now Friday night, a good time for Charlie to stay up, so you’re liable to be targeted. Which brings me to our next problem: To have the Somnibulus demon release you of his own free will, we need to make your dreams less hospitable to him.”

I blinked and exchanged a glance with Amy. “How do we do that?”

“Lucid dreaming,” Melissa clarified. “That is, becoming aware of the fact that you’re in a dream, and taking control of it. It’s the best way. Somnibuli hate that, they basically become at your mercy rather than the other way around.”

“I’ve heard of the concept,” Amy agreed. “But I have no idea how to do it.”

“Oh, I figured as much,” Melissa said offhandedly. She finished her most recent bout of pacing over by a small bag she’d brought with her, reaching in and pulling out an ornamental knife. “That’s why I’ve enchanted this object to act as a focus. Upon seeing it in your dream, you should realize the truth of your situation and be able to act as you like.”

Amy’s eyes went a little wider. “Okay… one, what guarantee do I have that your focus will show up in my dream at all, and second, why a KNIFE of all things?”

I found myself answering. “It makes sense that if you go to bed holding it, the enchantment will take effect, bringing it into the dream with you. As to the object itself, either the knife was particularly easy to enchant, or Melissa was considering the need for self defence. Or a combination of the two.”

“That’s pretty accurate, well done,” Melissa said, lightly tapping the fingers of one hand against her other palm in light applause. “You haven’t lost your edge.”

“No, wait, hold on,” Amy protested. “Are you saying I’m actually going to have to FIGHT this demon thing??”

“Doubtful, but you may need to bare your teeth a little, yes.” Melissa extended the hand holding the knife.

Amy continued to look at it a bit nervously. “Okay, no, wait, I need a moment here," Amy said at last, sliding out of her chair and away from Melissa’s arm. “Why didn’t you warn me it was going to come down to this three weeks ago when you first diagnosed the problem? Isn’t there some other way to handle these demons?”

“No. And I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to risk your dream reactions tipping the demon off, otherwise Charlie might have shifted his target to someone else. Making it impossible for me to locate this fan and solve this problem,” Melissa said, her tone casually dismissive. “Besides, it’s not like you could have prepared.”

Amy made a face. “You don’t know that. Also, I’m not good with knives. What if the demon takes it, or otherwise manages to get control of the dream away from me?”

Melissa sighed. “I don’t know, but according to James, the demon hasn’t been giving you images of anguish and torture to this point. Why would he start now?”

“Because now I’d be actually trying to annoy him!” Amy pointed out. She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself, and it was again obvious to me that she hadn’t been kidding about getting flustered by the unexpected. “I’m not sure I’ll even be able to fall asleep at this rate.”

Melissa now let out a sound of exasperation, while rolling her eyes. “Well, I’m sorry this doesn’t fit in with your world view. But look, James will be staying here with you! Right? The way he has been for the last several weeks, to keep you out of danger, and to wake you up if necessary. All better?”

Both girls turned to look at me at that point. Amy’s expression was almost pitying, as if it was dawning on her that Melissa really was a heck of a roommate to have had for four years. Melissa’s expression… was, as always, harder to read, but it seemed almost… wistful? Could it be that she’d hoped to bring me along with her to Halko’s?

I decided I was merely seeing what I wanted to see.

“No, not all better, but with James here, I suppose there’s a better chance of me enjoying myself tonight,” Amy said after a moment. Her tone now struck me as petty, but again, might have been imagining it.

I also nodded agreement, though I’d kind of expected that I’d end up staying behind anyway. So I wasn’t upset with Melissa having volunteered this duty on me. Heck, it would hardly have been the first time she did something like that, usually my own safety being part of the equation.

“Just one more thing though,” Amy said, finally taking the knife and holding it gingerly. “Is it true that if you die in a dream, you die in real life?”

Melissa merely rolled her eyes again before looking at me. Which, I must point out, wasn’t a denial.

“James, to activate the talisman, just have Amy say ‘Incipio’,” Melissa said. “Oh, and send me one of those text things once your friend’s fully asleep. That way I’ll know it’s time to break into Charlie’s apartment. Got it? Good.”

She headed out before waiting for a response, though I suppose my not protesting or calling her back was response enough.

With that, I turned my attention back to my former schoolmate. “Let’s focus on positive thinking at this point,” I suggested, knowing Melissa had utterly failed to address Amy’s concerns. “From what I’ve read about the Somnibuli, this guy will take one look at the knife and run. No problem.”

I managed a smile, and she smiled back.

“Thanks, James.” Amy then glanced idly about the room, as I stood and went to lock the door for an added show of security. “You know, in under a month we’ve progressed from dinner to checking into a motel together,” she said. “At this rate, people will talk.”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. “Uh, yeah. Guess it’s a good thing you’re not famous enough yet to have paparazzi?” I fired back. Then, seeing her smile vanish, I back-pedalled. “Sorry, that sounded better in my head.”

Amy shook her head. “Oh, it’s not that, it’s just… well, I suppose in a way it is that.” She stood herself, moving to the bed and curling her legs up. I rejoined her, again sitting on the edge.

“It seems to be a human thing,” she continued. “To want to be popular, to want to have our fifteen minutes of fame, huh? Yet now here I am, a borderline celebrity, and look where it’s got me. Attacked by a crazed fan with a pet demon.” She shook her head. “And if I get any more popular, I may not have a life of my own to look forward to… or not a private one, anyway. Do you think people would be trying to dredge up gossip on me?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” I tried to think of something cheery to say. “At least you’re not an author, like me. We’re pretty much disregarded, barring the off chance of a story being turned into a movie or a television serial.”

“James…”

Making light of the situation obviously wasn’t helping. “Sorry,” I said again, this time reaching out to put my arm around Amy’s shoulders. She leaned into me. “You don’t have to keep doing your lamp reviews, you know,” I pointed out.

“Oh, I know,” Amy sighed. “But I enjoy it And I don’t want to disappoint the few fans I have. Of course, being a part time waitress to help pay for it, that I can do without. Maybe I should have aimed for better than a three year degree.” She shook her head. “I guess my life just isn’t going quite how I pictured it would.”

“Life never does,” I granted. “Unless you’re Melissa.”

Amy turned to look at me, her expression hinting at a frown. “What?”

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 1d: OF WITCHES AND DEMONS

“Mel…”

Her fingers snapped. “Oh, right, we’ve had this conversation before. Honestly, we should just take that clock down and be done with it.”

“It’s 8pm,” I said, holding up my wrist and pointing to my own watch.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

“There you go then," Melissa concluded. “Bedtime. I’ll join you. Not in the physical sense, admittedly.” With a quick wink, she grabbed a file folder of sheets off her desk and retreated into her bedroom.

“It’s hardly joining me if you stay up in your own bed working,” I called out to the closed door.

She didn’t respond. I hadn’t really expected her to.

Giving up, I had some dinner and made my own preparations for an early bedtime, but I ended up staring at the ceiling for a good hour. Trying to determine what I was supposed to be doing with the rest of my life. There wasn’t much time left to decide on a direction.

At this point, some of you might be wondering how I could have fallen for someone like Melissa. Given how that attitude was pretty typical behaviour for her, while I aim to be non-confrontational. Two things to bear in mind here.

First, it ramped up over the space of several years of living together, during which I got to know certain things. Like how, deep down, Melissa did care about the people around her… she simply couldn’t be bothered to conform to society’s expectations of how a person should act, and preferred to distance herself from the unpredictable. And second, I admit it, from the beginning I was physically attracted.

Could I have looked elsewhere for such companionship? Maybe. I did have a fling with a girl when we were both in second year, but she started moving way too fast, wanting me to move out of the place with Melissa after less than two months of dating. That wasn’t in the cards.

I think part of me also became accustomed to Melissa’s weird quirks and mannerisms over time, things that made others give the self-proclaimed witch a wider berth. To the point where I worried I would miss them.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, there was a time when I was put off by the fact that witches are something of a target for the supernatural. But around the same time I realized that rooming with Melissa made me a target even if we weren’t going out, she realized that I was of assistance with the human side of the equation. Also, she’s even said she finds me attractive… though I think it’s a spiritual attractiveness. I’m not the kind of guy who stands out in a crowd.

At any rate, at this point I could walk us through the graduation ceremony, but we all know how unbelievably boring those things are – minus the thirty seconds or so during which the person you know is actually receiving their congratulations. So I’ll hit the highlights:

1. I got my degree, and my parents got photos.

2. Melissa came, and wore a shimmery green dress with strappy sandals that had my jaw drop. (She really is more of a jeans and T-shirts girl, even wearing them to her own graduation. So it was nice that she made an effort on my behalf.)

3. Amy came, and returned the pendant to Melissa. Her dress was blue. We agreed to meet again the next morning before she left town, to discuss the results.

Then the five of us all went out for a late lunch, and while I doubt my mom and Melissa said more than five words to each other, no conflicts erupted. Later, there was an evening of just people from my faculty, with Melissa as my date. But we don’t generally do public displays of affection, so maybe the others thought she was there in more of a professional capacity. Who knows.

Either way, we finally got home sometime close to midnight. Melissa immediately went to check on Amy’s pendant, which she’d dropped into a glass of water earlier that afternoon.

“Somnibulus demon,” Melissa concluded, turning and holding out the glass so I could see it. The water inside was cloudy, as she reached in to pull out the pendant and dry it off on a corner of her gown.

I collapsed onto the couch, and tilted my head back so I could still see her at the desk. “Is that bad then?”

“Depends,” Melissa said, rather indelicately hopping up to sit on said desk as she looked at the pendant again. “They feed on dream energy. Usually no, not a problem, in fact one can even be beneficial when they take away a particularly bad dream. Those are the times when you can’t remember why you’re freaking out in the morning. Of course, it works both ways, sometimes they take good dreams too.”

“Mmm. How do they fit in with the idea of supernatural balance?” I asked.

For the record, this balance is actually one of the key truths in magick – spells cannot be performed on the unwilling, not without severe karmic backlash. That’s part of the reason wizards wouldn’t be terribly useful in a war… toss a fireball at someone not willing to be torched, and while they may be singed, it’s the caster who would, on balance, end up worse off.

The loophole for success is passive acceptance – if said victim had thought they were capable of simply shrugging off the fireball or something, they could not truly be classified as unwilling. It’s one of the main reasons why powerful magick users haven’t tried to fix humanity or take over the world or anything like that.

At least, that’s the way things are supposed to work, according to Melissa. Over the last several hundred years though, the karmic backlash has not been occurring as it should. Which, you might imagine, means those witches and wizards who are keeping to their principles, and requiring permission to magick someone, have it rather more difficult. Seeing as their rivals, be they other witches or actual demons from a neighbouring realm, aren’t seeing the usual repercussions from not playing fair.

“There’s often a tacit acceptance on the part of a person to not remember certain dreams,” Melissa explained, idly swinging her legs. “Where things get murky is if the demon keeps returning to the same person over and over. Said person then tends to have persistent trouble sleeping and/or recurring dreams. Somnibuli generally don’t risk that kind of action without some tangible benefit, which implies the presence of a third party.”

“A third party… is that why you asked about Amy’s celebrity status?”

“Precisely,” Melissa said, tossing the pendant into the air and catching it in her palm. She jumped off the desk again. “Something – or someone – has hired the demon in order to peer into, possibly even direct, Amy’s dreams. Why? I don’t know. But given that it needed to be someone with knowledge of magick, I wagered it wasn’t anyone in Amy’s immediate circle of friends, ergo, a deranged fan.”

“Lovely,” I said dryly. “What do we do about it?”

“Well, there isn’t much we CAN do, unless we know who’s behind it,” Melissa said, a hint of irritation creeping into her tone as she returned the pendant to storage. “And since you said Amy publishes on the internet, for all we know it’s someone in outer Mongolia. Honestly, WHY does everyone refuse to recognize the ‘world wide web’ for the pain in the ass it truly is?”

I smiled despite myself. “The internet’s not as bad as all that.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“Okay Mel, look at it this way. If this fan is going to the extent of hiring demons, they’re probably not managing to stay completely anonymous,” I pointed out. “We can search through the comments on Amy’s website, as well as her email, for anyone with a supernatural or dream fixation.”

“Pain in the ass,” Melissa insisted with a grumble, crossing her arms. “This person still might be in outer Mongolia, and I don’t do trans-pacific flights.”

“You know teleportation spells,” I reminded. “And surely there’s other witches willing to help out who live out there.”

“Could be, but I don’t speak outer Mongolian.”

“Half the time you witches talk in latin anyway.”

Melissa threw her hands up. “James, why do you always make it so difficult for me to stay annoyed with technology??”

“Because it’s weird when you start to lose your cool like that. Besides, you and that dress doesn’t equal angry. You and that dress equals sexy.”

A hint of colour came into Melissa’s cheeks. “Which is precisely why I don’t wear them. Also, I know where you’re going with that thought, but you’ve been drinking. You’re not thinking clearly.”

I sat up straight. “Hey, how do you know where I’m thinking?”

“It comes with the job.” She smirked a little. “Plus, in the last twenty eight hours, you’ve been presented with the options of staying with me, or hooking up with an old flame. I’m fairly certain I know what one point of comparison is going to be.”

“Having said that,” she continued, “it is important for you to recognize that, with each of us having had our first sexual experiences with the other, any judgment is liable to be impaired. Furthermore, you must know that the stance I have taken on remaining here with my agency is not going to be swayed by the two of us having one additional mmmmlph–”

Her trailing off would be due to me standing up as she spoke, walking over, tilting her chin up, and kissing her. After a moment, I pulled back. “Talk about sex in a detached way all you like, it won’t change my feelings for you,” I said, quietly.

Melissa looked back up at me, colour now fully in her cheeks as her breathing came a little faster. “Promise me you won’t regret anything in the morning when you’re sober?”

“I’m hardly drunk on two glasses of wine.”

“Promise anyway.”

I leaned in again to kiss her cheek. “I promise.”

“Also, still calling the top,” she asserted.

I smiled. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Uh, okay, I deleted a couple paragraphs there. Maybe I still left in too much, but I think it helps with our characterization?

Of course, I’m now wondering if I’ve managed to alienate everyone who came here looking for a supernatural thriller… which would be bad, since I’m now about to alienate those who were keen on this tale turning into some kind of love triangle. (Or maybe I’m just rewarding those who sat through the context? I don’t even know. Note to me, I need to fix this in editing.)

My point being, we were able to track the fan who sicced the Somnibulus demon on Amy.

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 1c: OF WITCHES AND DEMONS

“You need time to think too, huh?” Amy said ruefully, obviously reading something in my expression. “That’s fine. Just keep me as an option then, I suppose? Along with the job thing? I’ll do the same, because that trick with the card was pretty cool. I’d be game to see more of that.”

I smiled wanly. “Yeah, hey, maybe we can make it such that you wouldn’t need wigs for your show,” I joked. Amy simply stared. “Alright, that was pretty lame, sorry.”

“No, hey, it’s fine. You have seen the show then,” Amy remarked. “Cool.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, well, maybe I’ve looked up a few people from those days. Once or twice. I don’t know if I ever watched a full episode.”

“It’s fine. It’s something.” Amy smiled. “Hey, you ever look up what became of Kyle, that annoying trumpet player who sat behind us?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Plays tuba now. It amuses me to think of him lugging that thing around in a marching band.”

“Hah. I guess you never know where life will take you.”

“I guess you don’t,” Amy said.

She stared at me for another moment, then glanced upwards once more. For a short time, we both simply looked at the ceiling.

“So, is it safe to leave Melissa with your parents for a prolonged period of time?" Amy said at last. “Your mom in particular didn’t seem that fond of her, both when we spoke at home, and in person up there.”

I quickly looked at my watch. “Heck! Yeah, we’d better get back up there.” I stood. “You going to be okay?”

The young internet celebrity nodded, extending a hand to allow me to help her up. “Oh, sure. I get flustered when things don’t go the way I expect, that’s all. It’s why I script religiously and avoid live shows.

She smiled, I smiled back, and we hurried upstairs.

I was glad to see that nothing had really changed. My parents were still sitting on the couch, and when I peered into the kitchen, Melissa was still there. More specifically, leaning back against the fridge with one leg slightly bent, a glass of water sitting on the counter next to her.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

She turned to look at me. “Safe yet?” she questioned, by this point looking rather contrite. “I can stay here until they’re all gone, if that’s easier.”

“You should probably at least apologize to Amy before she goes,” I remarked.

Melissa rubbed her nose. “Right. I guess she wasn’t in on it? Damn. And me still trying to get the hang of apologies, seeing as I’m so rarely wrong.”

“Melissa…”

Her hand flew out in a vague gesture. “Oh, yes, yes, I know, whenever I have a ten out of ten for accuracy, I get zero points for style.” Her tone became a little gentler. “I really am sorry, James. This day’s been a little stressful for me, but that’s no excuse to have blurted out to your mother about… us.”

“Yeah, well… let’s defer that conversation until we’re alone,” I suggested.

“Okay.” She reached up with her hands and raked them back through her hair, long locks of it flowing about her shoulders like water over a waterfall. (I swear, I like her for her mind too.) “Apology first then?”

I nodded. Melissa followed me out of the kitchen, bringing the glass of water to my dad. She then looked towards Amy.

“Sorry about earlier,” Melissa said. “Shouldn’t have dragged you into my conflict with the Conways. Let me know if you want a peace offering. I could get you some water too, or even a broccoli scone with chestnuts.”

“Um, no thanks,” Amy responded, shaking her head. “At this point I think I’ll just kind of hang back until it’s time to head out.”

“Which we’ll probably want to do very soon,” my father observed, lifting the water glass.

My mother looked up at me. I could now read her expression as resigned. She took in a long breath. “You use protection, yes?”

“Buh?” Amy said, her eyebrows going up.

“Mom! Not the time to be jumping to conclusions about how far we’ve, uh…”

“All right, all right,” Helen Conway sighed, raising her hands. “Just, James, don’t run off and elope, okay? We do want you to be happy, and if you’re happy with… with Melissa here… well, then we can get on board with that. Given enough time.”

As much as I might have wanted to get on mom’s case about eloping immediately after I’d said not to jump to conclusions, I had to grant that she was making an effort to bridge the gap. As was Melissa, who I could tell was visibly holding her tongue despite having been referred to like some woman I’d found on the street.

I forced out a smile. “I’m not about to elope,” I said, honestly.

“Right then, we’ll see you tomorrow?” my dad concluded, putting his empty glass down on the end table. He can drink fast when he wants to; it’s probably good that it wasn’t anything alcoholic.

“Right,” I concurred, moving towards the door in mild relief. This lasted all of half a second, until I saw Melissa peering much more closely at Amy, who was trying not to look uncomfortable at the other girl’s sudden scrutiny.

“Uh, Melissa…” I cautioned.

My diminutive roommate turned to look at me briefly, before shifting her gaze back to Amy. “You’re having trouble sleeping,” she diagnosed. “Slight bags under the eyes, which is not itself an issue, and yet – are you having recurring dreams?”

“Well, sometimes?” Amy said, caught off guard by the question.

Melissa turned to look at me. “Is Amy some sort of local celebrity?”

“She does reviews on the internet?” I answered, trying to figure out what Melissa had seen.

Melissa walked a quick circle around Amy. “Wow, I’m an idiot for missing this on my first pass,” she concluded. “Your hair is faintly tinted blue. I think your dreams are being hijacked by a demon. Would you consent to sleeping with me?”

“Excuse me??” chorused, well, possibly all of us in the room.

“Ah!” Melissa held up a finger. “That came out wrong. What I mean is, would you consent to letting me watch you while you sleep? Hm, still not great… oh! How about this.” She walked over towards her desk as she spoke. “Take a charm with you, sleep with it instead, and let me read it tomorrow. You’re still coming to James’ graduation, right?”

“I… I’m not sure anymore.”

“You should,” Melissa assured. “You may need our help. His help,” she amended, perhaps realizing that she was (again) not making the best impression.

She pulled open the lower drawer, where I had organized a number of her mystical trinkets, and pulled out a small pendant. “We can offer a reduced rate too, since you’re a friend of the family. Or, hm, possibly we even do this one gratis,” she amended, seeing the incredulous looks that my parents were now giving her. “As a show of good faith.”

Melissa walked back over to Amy, and held the pendant out.

Amy turned to look at me, the expression on her face implying she wanted some guidance as to whether Melissa had just lost it. Or perhaps she was buying into the supernatural aspect, and was concerned that this pendant might not change colour, but rather come alive and throttle her in her sleep?

“It’s fine,” I assured my former schoolmate. Even though I had no idea what that particular pendant was for, I trusted Melissa. “Treat it like another aspect of those things in life we’re not generally aware of.”

Amy nodded slowly, finally taking hold of the pendant. She looked at it closely before slipping it around her neck.

“If you’re quite through with your supernatural theatrics, Melissa, we’ll be on our way,” my mother said, trying and failing to to keep irritation out of her tone. She looked towards me. “See you tomorrow, okay dear?”

“Yeah. For sure,” I agreed.

I ushered our guests to the door, standing there until they were out of sight a few floors down. I then closed the door and leaned back against it, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. “Oh God, could that have gone worse?” I said, mostly to myself.

“Well, sure,” Melissa remarked. “After all, I didn’t actually mention to your parents that we’d been having sex. I kind of wonder about whether your mother was guessing, or trying to catch me off guard.”

This time I did facepalm. “Melissa, Mel, sweetness, please, don’t make me think about sex with you right now. I’m feeling rather emotionally mixed up at the moment.”

“Angry with me?” she asked.

“Yes. No. I’m not sure,” I said, pulling my palm away from my face and looking towards my… roommate? Co-worker? Lover? All of the above. Damnit, why did she have to be so infuriatingly amazing?

Melissa met my gaze. “You know, you can run off with Amy if you like,” she offered. “The day things escalated between us, we did agree no strings attached. In fact, you leaving with your degree was always one of the possible outcomes I’d considered for the end of the month.”

My mouth opened and closed for a moment as I tried to find the words. “H-How can you just stand there and say that?”

My roommate (because using “lover” in this narrative feels wrong) merely shrugged. “I could say it from the other side of my desk, but I might have to say it a little louder to be heard.”

“You know what I mean. You’re acting so… so… calm and rational!”

It’s hard to describe the look Melissa gave me at that comment. It basically conveyed the fact that I’d just said the most obvious, and by extension, stupidest thing ever. Her words, at least, were an attempt to be comforting.

“James, you’ve known me for four years now. Calm and rational is how I operate. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m going to have to adjust to your absence the same way I adjusted to your presence. But whether you decide to stay or not, life goes on. Supernatural balance must be maintained.”

I threw my arms out to the sides. “Then our whole relationship, it’s meant nothing to you?”

Melissa pursed her lips. “Is that what you’re getting from this? If it is, it’s not what I meant. What I mean is, I care too much for you to keep you here against your will.” She gestured back at her office area. “This is where I belong. It comes first. I’d love to continue to share it - and my bed - with you, but let’s face it, my life is not your life.”

She sounded so sincere. It was tough to stay angry with her. Which kind of made me angry. Though at this point I was just directing my anger at the world. “Well, it’s not like I can just go back to how I was living my life before, not after everything you and your agency have shown me,” I complained.

“You say that merely because you haven’t tried,” Melissa suggested. “Perhaps you should take a vacation away from all this. Spend some time with Amy. Who, admittedly, might be the unwitting victim of a Somnibulus demon, but if we get past that, she seems nice and normal. Maybe normal is something you need.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll just go do that then,” I shot back at Melissa. Was I was trying to make a veiled threat? If so, it was a poor threat, given that I was simultaneously agreeing with her.

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 1b: OF WITCHES AND DEMONS

You should know that the first thing that strikes most people about Melissa is her height. She clocks in at only about five foot one, yet at the same time she manages to have quite a commanding presence when she chooses. Of particular note, her eyes are a piercing green, while her hair is a long, wavy, chestnut brown that nearly reaches her waist.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

Without getting too detailed, while she’s not exactly someone who could make it as a model (outside of jeans, maybe… she can fill a pair nicely), by the standards of modern society these days, her appearance can turn heads. Many would even classify her as beautiful. She doesn’t try to play that up though, if anything doing the opposite, tending to go without makeup, and wearing slightly oversized shirts.

I stood up, preparing to do introductions. “Hi Melissa! My parents you already know, and this is…”

“Your mother’s replacement for me?” my roommate interrupted, closing the closet door before sizing Amy up more closely.

“Uh, Amy Lamkins,” I finished. “Friend of the family.”

“H-Hi,” Amy said, also rising, much more tentatively. She seemed unsure as to whether to extend a hand to shake or not.

“Old high school friend, in fact,” Melissa deduced. “Here with your parents, so no doubt also coming to your graduation tomorrow, and looking a bit out of place in those conservative clothes, but trying to make a good impression.”

There’s a reason Melissa can make a living as an investigator. She shifted her attention to my mother. “I suppose you could have picked a worse companion for your son. Were they also prom dates four years ago?”

“Melissa!” I yelped. For the record, Amy and I had, in fact, gone to high school prom together. But I didn’t see how that was relevant.

Melissa turned to look at me at my exclamation. “What?” she said, her tone very matter-of-fact. “You didn’t realize? Surely you saw something like this coming, James. Your parents have never really approved of our association.”

“Well…” Sometimes I hate it when Melissa’s right. Still, did we need to discuss this with my parents in the room? “Let’s at least keep things professional,” I said. “Amy’s here only because she has a job prospect.”

I heard my dad sigh.

“Oh, she’s here for more than that,” Melissa said, gesturing with one arm. “That’s why your dad is staring at the floor while Amy is looking sidelong at your mother and starting to blush.”

“Oh… oh, th-this was a bad idea,” Amy said, starting to stammer. “I didn’t mean… that is… okay, I need some air.” She quickly moved to push past Melissa and get to the door, calling back over her shoulder, “I’ll just be out front, it’s fine!”

My mother stood as Amy left, glowering at Melissa. The brunette witch was completely unfazed by this, and despite having to look up to see Helen in the eyes, seemed to have claimed the position of power in the room. It’s a skill that comes in handy with clients.

My mother, however, was not our client.

“Melissa Virga, I don’t know how you were raised, but by my standards that was incredibly rude and insensitive,” Helen snapped.

“I was cutting to the chase,” Melissa shot back. “Insensitive is needlessly playing with someone’s emotions, as you were with Amy’s.”

“Whoa! Wait,” I said, sometimes slow to catch on. Yes, I’d just been blindsided by the romantic angle. “You mean Amy has more than a professional interest here?”

My mother pressed two fingers to a temple. “See, this, this is exactly why you need to make more friends outside of your agency work, James. People in the real world, they’re not like Melissa. Some even have interests that extend beyond their jobs.”

Melissa sniffed. “Please. You speak as if I don’t find your son attractive. I do, and we’ve made out on several occasions.”

My mother’s eyes went wide, and there was a moment of silence. A moment during which I kind of wished invisibility cloaks were a real thing.

Melissa turned to look at me then. “I just gave them too much information, didn’t I,” she said, having the decency to sound a bit troubled for the first time in the conversation.

“I always thought this detective nonsense wasn’t strictly professional,” my father remarked, crossing his arms where he still sat on the couch.

“Okay, my God, time out!” I called out at this point, tapping my hands together desperately in the T-formation.

Exactly where was I supposed to start fixing this mess?

“Firstly, the nature of my relationship with Melissa is nobody’s business but ours. Okay? Secondly, Melissa, we’ve talked about tact? This is one of those times! And thirdly… thirdly, I think I need some air too, so I’m going to go and check on Amy. Can I trust you all not to kill each other for five minutes while I do that??”

My parents and Melissa exchanged glances. Melissa cleared her throat. “Thanks for visiting. Can I get anyone a drink, or just a glass of water?”

It sounded so rehearsed that I nearly facepalmed, though my dad stepped in again with, “A glass of water and a five minute mental break sounds like a solid plan.”

“I’ll be out of the kitchen in five minutes then,” Melissa concluded, heading for the adjacent room. She glanced back over her shoulder at me. “Oh, though speaking of parents, James, remind me that we need to talk along those lines at some point this weekend.”

“Yeeeeah,” I said slowly, watching as my mother sat herself back down on the couch. Her expression was becoming difficult to read.

It didn’t seem like anything was going to immediately explode here though, and truth be told, I was a little worried about the speed of Amy’s departure. So I headed out to look for her.

She had gone down as far as the fourth floor landing, where she was sitting on the stairs. She turned her head as she saw me approach, and smiled a wan, rather sad smile. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “The idea of me and you seeing each other again… that all went so differently in my head.”

“Yeah, well, Melissa’s a bit of an unpredictable wild card," I offered. “She’s nice though. Really. Just very… focused.” I sat down next to Amy.

“I’m sure,” Amy affirmed. She leaned back on her palms, arcing her back slightly as she stared upwards. “So, have you ever thought back to those days? When we went to prom together? Or is it just me?”

“Truthfully? I haven’t thought about it,” I admitted, figuring it was best to be honest. (Granted, it could also be that some of Melissa’s attitude has rubbed off on me.) “I mean, for the prom, it was a matter of neither of us had dates, we were both in the band, and we wanted to fit in with the rest of the crowd. At least, that’s how I remember it.”

“Huh. I suppose that’s true,” Amy yielded. “And at the time, I admit I was more focused on simply being there, rather than on who I was with. But you were really nice, James – something I took for granted then, but have been forced to consider more and more now that I’m an minor internet celebrity.” She paused. “There’s a lot of weirdoes out there. Like, a LOT.”

“People who like you more for your internet persona than who you really are?” I guessed.

“That’s part of it,” she said, nodding. “So, I don’t know, maybe I’m looking for a return to the simpler days. Maybe I’m looking for something to help keep me grounded in the reality of the present. Or… maybe I’m looking to start a new chapter in my life, and feel like you could be a part of it.” She straightened her back again and turned to look at me. “Does any of that make sense?”

“Sort of,” I said. I mean, it didn’t make much sense to me personally, but I could empathize with the aspect of past, present and future colliding at a moment in time. “Thing is, I’ve changed. I’m not like I was back in high school.”

Amy grinned. “Could it be you’re less naïve?” she suggested.

I coughed. “That’s part of it,” I said, borrowing her phrase. “I hope. But more than that, I’ve come to realize there’s a lot of things in life that we’re… not generally aware of.”

“Related to that illuminati symbol on your apartment door?”

“Yeah. You know about that sort of thing?”

Amy shook her head. “Nope. Your dad said it was some new interest of yours, that’s all I know.”

I nodded. “Well, here, let me show you.” I fumbled in my pocket for my wallet, pulling out a small square of cardboard. “What colour is this?”

My old school friend shrugged. “Green.”

I nodded, then closed my hand around it. I concentrated, trying to remember the exact process that Melissa had taught to me, probably mumbling under my breath as I did so. I reopened my hand. “Now?”

“It’s yellow!” Amy said in shock. She then smirked and reached out, snatching it from my hand. “Dope, it’s green on one side and yellow on the…” Her voice trailed off as she flipped the card back and forth. “It’s… green on both sides. Wait, what? I thought it was…”

“Simple illusion,” I explained. “Which you disrupted by grabbing it from me. I don’t have Melissa’s control.”

“So you… made it appear yellow?” she said slowly, dubiously.

“Pretty much. Has to do with distorting the reflected light before you can perceive it. I don’t know all the details, science and magick are at odds with each other almost as much as they complement themselves.”

“Magic,” Amy repeated, obviously still unsure.

I took the card back and replaced it in my wallet. “Magick, hard ‘c’,” I corrected. “And you look about the same as I did four years ago. But being with Melissa forces one to come to terms with this sort of thing.”

She stared at me for a long moment. “Is being with Melissa something you’ve come to terms with then?” she asked at last.

I blinked back. “What?”

“Like, is she the one then?” Amy pressed. “Do you and her have magical adventures planned after your graduation? Because I’ll back right off, if that’s the case. I’m starting to realize I got a really distorted view of your life situation from your parents.”

“Ah. Well, uh…”

Again, there it was. What was I doing with my life, both professionally and personally? I mean, there was obviously something between Melissa and I, but what was it? Was it a professional relationship that had taken a few steps too far over the edge? Was it a whirlwind university romance, supplemented by a common interest in helping others, that ultimately couldn’t stand up to the test of time?

Or was there something more to it?

At the end of “Epsilon 4”, I did a “Paths Not Taken” for some additional notes. Here at the end of “Epsilon 5”, I’m going to do a “Behind the Scenes” post instead, as there’s more here about statistics and, well, behind the scenes stuff. (As opposed to individual poll results.) In particular, I’ll go through the various anagrams I used for the names, so if you want to figure those out on your own, read “Chanced Erasures” first.

Back in July, when “Surveillance Mission” and “Rescue Mission” tied on the initial plot voting (3 votes each), I considered calling the fifth Epsilon story “Search and Rescue”… only to notice that Part 13 of the previous story had been named “Search and Re-Skew”. Also, Part 30 of Time & Tied had used the S&R title.

So, I decided to look up anagrams. Options for those letters included “Cascade Her Runes”, “Arcane Cues Shred” and what I went with, “Chanced Erasures”.

As I said at the time, Chartreuse was always a given to return, and then Para was voted in (only 3 votes total on that poll, no idea why half of people didn’t read that far down). Alice, as the person to rescue, had actually been flagged for either a physical, mental or magical battle right from the start (which was the poll that would end part three), but I hadn’t intended for her to end up with a role as large as the one she got. How did things evolve?

FIRST HALF

The statue of the guy who started the school was Fenduro (Founder). I also planned for their trek through the school to trace out “ERECTS”, an anagram of “SECRET”, but starting in the Clover Club with the R (with “E” being in the gym, Sue’s intended starting point, that we never saw).

Part four introduced Shay Milds (Slim Shady) though his last name was only spoken aloud in part twelve, as well as Usa Staling (Assaulting), the head of security. Part five was when I mused about a second interrogation, leading to Marlin in part seven. He’s NOT an anagram, nor is the catgirl Mary-Lynn Emrys (from part eight, named in part thirteen). Both are plays on “Merlin”, from Arthurian lore, since the throwaway line about the burial ground/magic wars was becoming plot relevant.

Part six gave Sue “Storm” her invisibility. Part seven is when the “chanced erasure” title finally connected with the idea of erasing memories (in considering Thred being a victim). And that’s also when I had 30 consecutive days on the blog with fewer than 10 page views, meaning the WordPress scale reverts to decimals. Leading in part to a delay of a whole week in posting the next part, because why am I even.

That was actually the second delay - recall part 3 was delayed by a couple days. (In that case, I was playing with “Time Untied”, to submit it for the Ink & Insights competition. It placed 68 out of 146, so in the top 50%.) What this other delay meant was I only posted once for all October 2018.

SECOND HALF

November involved work on nine, ten and eleven, even as I did NaNo for “Time Untied” (made it past 25k). By part nine, I wanted the mystery device to use anagrams somehow, what with it being the underlying theme. Part ten included the name “Polsit” for “pistol”, and twelve solidified that I’d need two more parts. The “No Antidote” button in part thirteen was for “Detonation”; an “Oyster D” button (to destroy) was scrapped.

It’s worth mentioning that I’d normally draw a picture at around the halfway mark; in this case, I only did it after the second last part (at the end of 2018). It’s the image above with the star. The delay was partly due to no time in Oct/Nov, and partly because I’d been hoping to start digital drawing - which I also didn’t have time for. Fun fact, after adding the image to the index page, it got automatically added to the tweet pinned at the top of my twitter timeline.

I think the only other thing worth a mention is how some of the current events stuff in the plot (immigration to a dimension, corrupt CEOs) was put in on a whim towards the end. I’d also considered having Alice save the day as an option to end part thirteen, but she’d seemed so popular I worried it’d be an easy win. So I went with Marlin, Sue and Sam instead. As I said in part fourteen, perhaps even that poll was predictable, leading us to the so-called “bad end” of secrecy. I didn’t want any end to be truly “bad” though.

The final character results split Alice and Chartreuse with 1 vote each. Because the last two polls got only two votes total. (Part five also saw only two votes.) Contrast the end of “Epsilon 4” when I was getting 7 votes towards the end, also in a December. Ouch. Was it the story itself? Was it weaker marketing? I don’t know, but let’s delve into that side of things.

STATISTICS

I had only 2,429 page views, as compared to 6,998 in 2017… marginally better than 2015, the first full year the blog existed (2,208 page views). Granted, 2017 had a huge spike from a guest post (a couple actually), but few people are sticking around. Or so it seems.

I’m open to suggestions. Part of the trouble is I don’t have time to market, my seven month old daughter (and family) takes priority, then there’s my teaching job (I was part time, now returning to full time), then there’s the writing, then there’s reading (which is months backlogged right now), then finally at the bottom is promoting. Did I mention some nights I only get five hours sleep?

As far as bright spots go, there is that little bump from July 2018, when I got over 500 page views. Someone did read through Time & Tied that month (silently). The final part of T&T (96b) now has 21 views. (Someone read through a bunch in December too.) And while the last parts of “Epsilon 5” only have 6 views, there were three different people commenting for the duration. I also got a shout-out from Joseph Nebus in the math carnival back in October.

I suppose there’s also how my site has now been protected from 6,276 spam comments. Spammers still have their eye on me? Does that make me important? Anyway. Also, as of today I’ve managed to get an additional quarter, loonie and toonie from 2018. Just for the record.

I think that’s everything I had to say. The plan is to continuously run Melissa’s story through 2019 - it started last week, if you missed it. After that I might return to Epsilon… we’ll see where things are at. Progress on “Time Untied” is slow, but gradually coming together. And if you didn’t know, I have been writing monthly columns for the “Time Travel Nexus” as well. Here’s hoping you stick around to see more of what I’ve been putting out there. As always, thanks for reading.

[caption id=“attachment_2286” align=“aligncenter” width=“150”] December 2018[/caption]

A Virga Mystery: BALANCING ACT

ACT 1a: OF WITCHES AND DEMONS

Namely breaking into an apartment on our behalf.

[caption id=“attachment_2011” align=“alignright” width=“202”] MELISSA VIRGA
Commission from Shirley[/caption]

In retrospect, I think that’s when it finally dawned on me that Melissa Virga was, in fact, the woman I wanted in my life. Honestly, I’m not sure how I’d missed it before. Alas, I had no idea that Melissa would then be taken away from me before the end of the summer.

But you probably need more context, don’t you? Even if, by chance, you are someone who has read the previous three cases with Melissa that I chronicled, I bet you are more than a bit confused.

I’ll back up.

My name, for the purposes of this story, will be James Conway. Some of you may recall that it’s not my real name, merely the name I chose when I first started writing about Melissa’s cases. Again, that’s also a name I picked for her, though her last name of ‘Virga’ is genuine. Don’t mispronounce it, it comes from the latin. Now, since we started there, I figure we might as well keep using these names, right?

At the time of those early cases, as a university freshman, I was using them to try and ensure anonymity. Now, well, maybe the last name is all you’d need to find “Melissa”. Even ignoring her recent status in the magic community, technology has advanced in leaps and bounds, just the four years I spent working on my degree. For all I know, someone’s created a wiki page about her on the dark web.

Heck, it’s hard to believe that we’re now at the point where shutting down the entire world’s electronic infrastructure required the use of witches and wizards spanning the entire globe. Not merely to accomplish it, of course, but also to make it seem like a natural… but there I go, rushing ahead again.

How about we begin somewhere normal, namely with my university graduation.

I had spent my entire time at university living with Melissa Virga, in apartment 66 of some off-campus housing that I took sight unseen. (If you haven’t read the prior case material, know that I was kind of a naïve guy from out of town, who didn’t question why it might still be available in late August.) Melissa ran a supernatural detective agency out of the apartment.

Ultimately, I helped her do this.

Melissa continued her case work even after obtaining a philosophy degree from the university herself. In fact, I probably helped Melissa with her career work unrelated to the supernatural too, since she was a bit of a technophobe… and assuming people will just “find you”? It might serve a student acting as a private detective who doubles as a witch, but it is less helpful when you’re hoping to be paid as a creative consultant.

So really, the question became, when I graduated, would I still stick around and continue to help out said self-proclaimed witch, Melissa “Weird Gal” Virga? Or would I set off and try to make something of my english degree, with a focus on journalism?

It may come as no surprise that my parents were leaning more towards the latter. They had met Melissa, you see. Met her after my first couple of semesters away, during that first summer, when I elected to stick around and help with cases from May through August. I’d managed to prevent all but the briefest encounters prior to that point.

Upon her first official meeting with my parents, she aimed for a good first impression by offering them a casserole of blue cheese and hot peppers. My dad immediately wondered if I’d gotten Melissa pregnant and given her strange cravings. (For the record, no, she came by those naturally.)

Melissa proceeded to talk down to them, and… well, look, as they say, “show, don’t tell”. I’ll jump in with my graduation tale now, lest you get bored from too much exposition. You’ll see Melissa in action shortly. Simply picture her with less blunted edges for earlier encounters.

Though if you want - or need - a teaser for how Melissa can be, do feel free to look up my prior trilogy of cases for extra context. I’m sure they’re floating around on the internet somewhere. Then, when you’re ready, read on.

Picture it. It’s the end of April, and my parents come into town again to watch me walk across the stage. Except they’re in town a day in advance, with a surprise. When I answer the door on Friday evening, there’s Jim Conway, my dad, Helen Conway, my mom… and Amy “Lampana” Lamkins.

You may have heard of Amy, she reviews lamps and other such illuminating devices on the internet. Or more likely you haven’t heard of her, because I’m still somewhat altering the names of people in this story (including those of my parents), along with other minor details. But suffice to say, Amy has a rather niche market of internet fans, and I knew her before she became famous(?), having gone to high school with her.

I’d better describe her here too, for those who need a visual. Asian descent, short dark hair (though she varies that up during her reviews by wearing wigs), maybe five foot five (so just a couple inches shorter than me), brown eyes, and a somewhat reserved personality (at least in person). On this occasion, conservatively dressed in a blouse and skirt. Not exactly the sort of person I expected to be hanging out with my parents, who probably don’t even subscribe to UTube, so colour me a bit nonplussed as I invited them all in.

By the way, no, I won’t be describing myself (or my parents) in detail. Picture me however you like, I’m not going to do that cliche “checking myself out in the mirror” thing.

My mother sighed as she entered. “Love what you haven’t done with the place,” she said with a resigned tone.

I’m not sure what she was expecting. We’ve got a large open area which doubles as Melissa’s office and our sitting room, off of which there is a kitchen, bathroom, and mine and Melissa’s bedrooms. (My room used to be the dining room.) We don’t have dead monkey paws sitting around, or obvious mystical symbols inscribed on the walls.

I mean, I suppose there’s the eye in the triangle on the main door, so people with an interest in the supernatural can find us. But trust me, the interior was hardly as bad as it had been before I developed a filing system for Melissa.

I gestured towards the couch for my parents, our only comfortable chair for Amy, and went to grab one of the standard folding seats in front of Melissa’s desk for me. “Well, it’s great to have you all here,” I said. “Can I get anyone a drink, or just a glass of water?”

“I’m fine,” my mother assured me. “Amy?”

“Uh, I’m good,” she said. “Thanks though.”

My dad just shook his head and sat quietly, folding his arms and regarding the situation as it unfolded. He doesn’t generally say a lot, but he usually doesn’t have to in order to get his points across. In this case, I got the impression that whatever was going on was my mom’s idea.

Anyway, I simply sat down in the chair I’d pulled over, wondering what to say next. Fortunately, Amy spoke up, vocalizing exactly what was on my mind, namely, “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here, James.”

“Little bit,” I admitted.

She smiled quietly. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve kept up, but I run a little review site online. We’re planning on expanding, and starting a newsletter. So, someone with your skills would be useful, not only for stuff like proofreading, but also doing research and the like. Of course,” she added quickly, “it wouldn’t really pay much, so if you have other prospects, I understand. But they always say it’s important to keep gaining experience and contacts when you’re looking for other work.”

“Oh! Well, yeah, and I’ve nothing really on the radar at this point,” I admitted. “So sure, email me the details, and I’ll think it over.” I’m sure my brow furrowed a little. “You didn’t have to come out here and make me this offer in person though.”

Amy shrugged. “I was back in our hometown, I ended up chatting with your parents when they came to visit my parents, and I didn’t have anything else going on this weekend. So I thought, what the heck.”

“Being here is also a chance for Amy to talk to the editor of one of your university publications,” my dad put in. “Apparently they’d met in an online forum, and he has some items she could use. So it wasn’t just about seeing you again.”

“But dear, do notice how that means Amy has connections,” my mother added. “Maybe she can help give you some direction for the job market. You can’t spend the rest of your life working here on those supernatural oddities, right?”

Ah, so there it was. The fact that Amy was sitting a little uncomfortably also implied to me that her interest in my writing was genuine, and as such she wasn’t in on my parents trying to leverage me away from Melissa’s supernatural agency. I wondered if Amy even knew about the supernatural. It seemed unlikely, as my parents themselves only had a vague idea of the work Melissa and I did.

At the same time though, I had been asking myself exactly where my life was going to go after my degree. And I had been putting off thinking about it. Meaning I was simultaneously annoyed by my parents’ meddling, and yet appreciative that they were looking out for me at a time when I wasn’t really doing it for myself.

So, how to respond?

“I’m weighing my options,” was my answer. “Let me see what Amy’s looking for first. Either way, I’d rather not decide anything until after I have the all important graduation paper in my hand tomorrow.”

“Of course,” my dad said, before either of the others could speak. “So how exactly will the ceremony go then, and more importantly, how long is it and how comfortable are the chairs we’ll have to sit in?”

Talk then moved to the mechanics of graduation and other trivialities, and the whole encounter wouldn’t necessarily have been worth remembering, if it weren’t for the fact that Melissa came home about twenty minutes later.

CHANCED ERASURES: PART FOURTEEN

Fortunately, Alice didn’t have to do anything.

As the unconscious guy behind the desk let out a groan, everyone looked in that direction. That’s when Alice felt Sue grasping for the invulnerability badge she had on. She felt Sue, rather than saw her, because Sue had used her invisibility power again.

Alice let Sue take it. Moments later, Sue was standing right next to Mary-Lynn, and kicking the gun out of her hand. The cat woman snarled in response, rounding on Sue with a punch - that bounced off the invulnerability field, causing Mary-Lynn to let out a mewl of pain. Would that end up draining it for good? Well, Alice now noticed that Marlin had a hand on his wand, so could probably help out if necessary.

There was no need. In a clever move, Sue managed to twist Mary-Lynn’s arm back behind her, putting the cat woman into a hold. Fortunately, that only took one hand, leaving her other hand free to grab the tail, right before she said, “Tell us how to fix this.”

“Ow! Ow, ow! I already said there’s nothing you can do. Let go of my tail, that hurts!” Mary-Lynn hissed.

“Shay could probably help,” Usa suggested. “He’s the sort of person to have had an emergency override installed.”

“Except he’s unconscious, like Chartreuse here,” Para remarked, where she was softly stroking Chartreuse’s hair.

“Oh, my gun was set on sensory stun,” Usa said, holding it up. “Shay’s merely frozen, he’s still able to hear everything that’s going on. It’ll wear off in less than five minutes. All we need to do is use that time to somehow convince him that Mary-Lynn here is the real enemy.”

“You think we can?” Sam asked. “Shay wouldn’t listen to reason earlier.”

“Wait, um, is Chartreuse also aware of what I’m doing?” Para said, pulling her hand back. Usa simply smiled at her.

Alice turned her attention back to the dimensional device. “So, I can’t be sure, but I don’t think we’ve got much more than five minutes anyway.” Another plush cat hit her on the head. “Also, I feel like that rift is getting more aggressive, maybe due to the proximity of this thing.” In her part of the room, the small toys were stacked above her ankles.

“So how do we get Mary-Lynn to confess… wait,” Sue said. “The Hypno drug used for interrogations, is there more of it around here? We saw some in the infirmary.”

Before Usa could answer, Sam was stepping forwards. “I have some, I grabbed a vial, remember?” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. “Would someone like to do the honours?”

Sue flashed her friend a smile. “Usa, you know how to administer that stuff, right?”

“Th-That drug won’t work. Cat genetics make me immune. Go fly a kite,” Mary-Lynn yelped.

“It’s worth a try,” Usa decided. She took the vial from Sam and advanced on Mary-Lynn.

“No, this is illegal on so many levels. If you do that, you’ll never work for the Council again. Let go of my damn taaaail!” Mary-Lynn mewled, struggling against Sue. But either Sue’s grip, or the invulnerability field, or both, kept the cat woman in place.

“If you’re one of the leaders, I don’t think I want to be working for you anyway,” Usa concluded. “Thanks for your help with restraint, Sue Morts.” She administered the drug.

Alice took the opportunity to get closer to Para. “Do you know how good the shielding down here is?” she murmured, crouching. “Because you might be out of here either way.”

After all, the Epsilon station had temporal circuits. If the dimensions were to close off, Fate could, in theory, bounce back to just before that moment and initiate a retrieval. Alice kind of hated to piggyback out that way, but there was only so much they could do to influence things before they became part of the problem. Right?

Para could only shake her head and shrug back though. So Alice resigned herself to standing back up and watching as Usa stepped back from Mary-Lynn, staring her in the eyes. Hopefully there was still more they could learn.

“Your name, for the record,” Usa stated.

“Mary-Lynn Emrys, and for the record, go take a flying leap,” the cat woman snarled.

“Who sent you to this reality?” Usa continued.

“I was born here, nitwit,” Mary-Lynn said. “You know, you’re not going to trip me up this way. You don’t know the right questions. Give up now, let the device finish, the dimensions will close, and we will be safe.”

“Safe from what, from whom?” Usa pressed.

“Anything or anyone out there who’s a threat,” Mary-Lynn answered.

“But especially from the Clover group,” Alice decided to suggest. “What is it they’re calling themselves?”

“Clover Enterprises, duh,” Mary-Lynn said. There was a brief silence. Then, “Aw, hell.”

Alice smiled quietly. At last, after all this, a solid lead.

“Is that something related to this school’s Clover Club?” Sue asked.

“No, idiot, the similar name just makes for a good smoke screen,” Mary-Lynn said. “I’m not saying anything more.”

Usa had glanced over towards Alice; now she turned back to the cat woman. “I think you will say more. Because you’ve had dealings with Clover Enterprises. Right?”

“I have not, not personally.”

“But for some reason, they’re after us,” Usa insisted.

“Sure, in a sense.”

“Can you explain why in five words or less?”

“We owe them money.”

“Why’s that?” Usa challenged.

Mary-Lynn attempted to shrug. “How the hell would I know? Do I look like the top brass?”

“If it’s only a money issue, why not pay off this Clover Enterprises?” Sam spoke up, from where he’d returned to check on Thred’s unconscious body. “Is it too expensive?”

“Not really, it’s more that the CEOs want their pay raises,” Mary-Lynn stated.

Sue leaned in closer to Mary-Lynn’s ear. “Wait. Wait, let me see if I’ve got this straight,” she said. “The Council has had extra-dimensional dealings with Clover Enterprises. Some pretty long-standing dealings, as you’ve had years to use school Clover Clubs as a smokescreen. And now, instead of paying a debt, our Council is funding a dimensional closure device, which will isolate our world and hurt our economy. All this, merely so CEOs can keep their pay raises? And you’re okay with this?”

“I might be getting a cut,” Mary-Lynn said sullenly. “Besides, no worries, there’s this trickle-down effect for the cash, whereby–”

“Oh, shut it,” Usa snapped. “I cannot believe that our organization has become so corrupt.”

“But this doesn’t make sense,” Sam protested. “Why take the drastic step of shutting down all dimensions, rather than just the one where this Clover Enterprises exists?”

“Because we can,” Mary-Lynn snarked.

Sue looked towards Alice. “You mentioned the group in the first place, do you know?”

“Well, there’s a shadowy Clover group that’s been behind at least one other dimensional incursion,” Alice admitted, exchanging a glance with Para. “Meaning I doubt your Council knows which other dimensions do or don’t have ties, hence the decision to go totally dark.”

“Actually, here’s a thought,” Para piped up. “Could this Clover Enterprises have been involved in the magic wars on this very site? Maybe the company even suggested to ‘Fenduro’ that a school be put here, along with that puzzle to solve for access to the base. Could things go that deep?”

Usa frowned, and looked back at Mary-Lynn. “Well, could they?”

“I can’t say ‘no’,” Mary-Lynn said, mouth twitching. “Which actually bothers me, why am I getting creeped out?”

“Attack of conscience?” Sam suggested.

“Hi, so, the dimensions are about to get shut down,” Marlin said, speaking up again. He’d spent the last few minutes alternately looking inside the device, glancing up at the rift, and eyeing the dimensional control item that Sue had clipped to her belt.

It occurred to Alice then that Marlin could probably have rushed Sue and grabbed it by now, if he’d wanted to. It was nice that he wasn’t interrupting the interrogation with magic either. Then again, maybe the issue was Marlin had no clear idea what was going on.

That’s when Shay mumbled something.

Sam moved closer to him. “What was that?”

Usa placed her hands on her hips. “Given what we just learned, along with Shay’s brother being off-world, hopefully it was an override code.”

Sam leaned in closer. “He said… ‘Video Err’.”

“Another anagram,” Marlin muttered. “Not helpful in actually giving us an override.”

Alice snapped her fingers. “Except where it just might be.” She peered at the inside of the device again. “Heck yeah, just need to uncouple the video. Fun failsafe. Seems you can’t shut down what you can’t see. Jolly good.”

The rectangular box showing the pulses went dark. At which point the dimensional rift opened wider, and even more cat plush started pouring out.

“Aaaand pretty sure that’s coincidence,” Alice remarked.

“Okay, so, any way we can still shut THAT dimensional connection down?” Sue asked.

Mary-Lynn rolled her eyes. “You people. A regular dimensional device can patch that, at least temporarily. Release me, and I’ll show you how.”

Sam blinked over at the cat woman. “Huh. While I realize that has to be the truth, why are you offering up the information…?”

“Leniency? Also, I’m starting to question my own place in reality, given how I seriously didn’t think there was a way for you to screw with our plans. But here we are. Will you let go of my tail already?!”

“Fine. Help,” Sue said, finally releasing Mary-Lynn, “And if it’s any consolation, I don’t see any reason that the results of this interrogation should get out.”

“Otherwise the CEOs will see you coming for their blood money?” Para wondered.

“That, and the fact that we’d prefer to deal with this little problem in-house,” Usa remarked. She looked at Sam. “So this better not end up in your newsletter.”

“Don’t look at me,” Sam said, raising his hands. “I’m not sure anyone would believe me. Also, I’d prefer to stick around at least until that device is disassembled. It’ll help me sleep nights.”

“S’fine,” came Shay’s slurred voice from the floor. “Saw rye for every ting. ‘N yer in, Sham.”

Sam blinked down at Shay. “In? You mean, you won’t wipe my memory? That’d be nice, because I actually have some suggestions. Chief among them, writing instruction manuals.”

“You see?” Sue said brightly, looking over at her friend. “This has all turned out for the best.”

“Spike for yersluf,” mumbled Sir Thred, still face down on the floor.

“Great, keen, lovely, can I please get out of here before we all drown in plush cats?” Marlin pleaded. “I’ve been nothing but helpful, seriously.”

Alice flashed him a smile. “In fact, it’s high time Para, Chartreuse and I were clicking our heels together three times. We can bring Marlin along, if that’s okay.”

“Maybe you could even make it such that we were never here?” Para suggested. “I suspect the school records will automatically wipe anyway.”

Usa nodded. “This is plausible. Paperwork can get misfiled, and we’re rather busy right now dealing with this plush cat infestation.” She gestured at where Mary-Lynn was reconfiguring Sue’s gadget. “So if you have your own means of departure…”

“Say no more, say no more, say no more, squire,” Alice burbled, grasping Marlin by the sleeve and pulling him towards what she hoped was the nearest exit. Marlin didn’t resist. Para lifted Chartreuse, who now seemed to be slowly regaining the use of her limbs, and followed after. Once they reached the music room, they were able to contact the Epsilon station almost immediately.

“And you never looked back?” Fate asked, scribbling on her pad.

“Nope, we’d already overstayed our welcome,” Alice reported. She clasped her hands behind her back, wondering if they’d be able to sit down any time soon.

“Also I wasn’t, you know, able to turn my head at that point,” Chartreuse added.

“Right.” Fate made another notation, then looked up. “Well, that takes care of the report then. Good work out there.”

“I’m just soooo glad you’re all back safely,” Beam said, bouncing into the room after having gone to return Marlin to his proper world. “The fact that you got Clover information is a bonus. Ooooh, I want to kiss you all!”

“Down, girl,” Fate said, shaking her head. “Lesbian hijinks later, for now, we should get Chartreuse and Para back home too.”

“Then you’ll be continuing your Clover investigation alone?” Para mused.

Alice nodded. “For now. I mean, on the one hand, the fact that Clover Enterprises never showed up on our radar at all is significant. On the other hand, we still don’t have a specific way of finding them. But that’s for us to mess with, you all have your own dimensions to handle. Don’t worry, we’ll let you know if we need your help again.”

“Don’t forget, there’s still regular dimensional issues to monitor as well,” Fate reminded them.

“Well I’m always willing to, you know, do what I can for friends,” Chartreuse said, smiling. She looked at Para. “Speaking of that, it was nice to meet you. Thanks for, like, all the help.”

Para found herself smiling back. “Thanks for accepting me on your team, and taking that hit for me at the end.”

Chartreuse dropped a quick curtsey. “I do what I can.”

“Group hug with everyone before you go!” Beam squealed, throwing her arms open wide. “Please?”

Alice rolled her eyes, but followed the other women into the embrace. Personally, she hoped that the next stage of their investigation would involve bringing in Alijda, their super hacker. Or at least, she hoped to connect up with her roommate again soon. Might she even get a few days of relatively normal every day life then? Only time would tell.

END OF STORY 5: CHANCED ERASURES

Preferred POV character from Story5? OPTIONS:

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VOTING WILL LIKELY REMAIN OPEN AGAIN

THE ORACLE PROPHESIED: Usa’s vote from a couple parts back had a secondary consequence about Sam’s Hypno drug. I didn’t want to bring up then, lest readers had forgotten about it. If Usa had helped them find Shay, they’d have used the drug on him, to learn more on using the device (recall they could have found files for what Mary-Lynn had said here). If Usa knew how the device worked, the drug for sure would have been used on Mary-Lynn, similar to what we saw. Since they improvised using the device, I was still improvising on who would get the drug… and it turned out to be the cat woman.

EXTRA ASIDE: As a coins follow-up, in the first couple days of 2019, I got one of the new 2018 $10 bills with Viola Desmond on it, so that was kind of cool. Going forwards, I plan to edit the old Melissa Virga archive - any preference between longer parts every two weeks, or shorter parts weekly? Looking back, would people prefer if I stopped changing the point of view each part? Let me know. There’s a final Behind the Scenes here, looking at anagrams and stats. Thanks for reading!