There were few things Rafferty hated more than guard duty.

Some girls actually liked guard duty. They could put their feet up, relax, maybe even take a nap. Rafferty had never understood how someone could enjoy doing nothing.

She was sitting in the Shack, a small outbuilding up the road from the Abbey. It was the worst of all possible guard duties, as far as Rafferty was concerned, because you could barely even move. Every ten minutes or so, she would get tired of just sitting there and get to her feet, only to realize yet again that there was hardly room to turn around in here, let alone actually do anything.

Her job was to inspect anyone arriving at the Abbey, but that hardly ever happened. The highlight of her week had been yesterday, when a truckload of apples had come through. Rafferty had actually gotten to leave the shack, and search the truck, lifting up the tarp and everything. They'd had to physically stop her from counting the apples.

If there had been a couple of armed assassins under the tarp, it could really have been a highlight.

Gus said that people used to have jobs like this all the time. He said some people stayed in booths like this for eight hours a day, every day, collecting taxes from people crossing bridges.

No wonder the people from Before built places like Wonderland. They all went crazy in little boxes.

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Rafferty sat in her wobbly chair and toyed with the color of her hair, which was her typical boredom fighting ritual. Right now she was working her way through the purples. She had found a shade she really liked, but then had accidentally fallen asleep. When she woke up, it was pinker than before, and not at all right. She had spent the last two hours trying to recreate it without success.

She was frustrated, but realized that her frustration probably had less to do with the elusive shade of purple or the confines of the Shack than with how complicated things had gotten lately.

The word jealousy was being thrown around a lot. According to Blaspheme, Katrin was jealous of Rafferty's recent success and that was why she was being nice to her. According to Katrin, Blaspheme was jealous of their new friendship, and that was why she wasn't being nice to her. Oh, and lots of other girls in lots of other halls were apparently jealous of how Rafferty drew all the cool assignments lately.

By Rafferty's count, her recent "success" had included breaking her ribs, nearly breaking her hand, being shot, being shot at another time, being poisoned and nearly losing her mind, getting drugged and hallucinating her way through Wonderland, losing a fight to a dog, getting captured by a witch, and making a fool of herself at a fancy dinner party.

Rafferty had a hard time understanding how all of this could inspire jealousy.

So, of course, in this frustrating time, she was stuck in the one place where it was practically guaranteed that nothing interesting would come along to distract her.

Until she saw the truck.

It was weaving erratically, barely following the road. Whoever was driving it wasn't very skilled.

Or trying to ram the Shack.

Rafferty stood up, hand on her weapon. In her excitement, she allowed her thoughts to get a little out of control.

I can fight a truck. I'll totally kick that truck's butt.

Rafferty stepped outside. The truck's brakes squealed, and it lurched to a stop in front of her. The door opened and a girl got out. She seemed about Rafferty's age. She had short, spiky black hair that Rafferty thought looked sort of cool. Rafferty relaxed her grip on her sword. She didn't know who this girl was, or why she was here, but didn't think she was looking for a fight.

"Are you one of those Hunters?" the girl asked.

Rafferty nodded. The girl was stressed. And desperate.

"Grackle. There's a God. Flarking huge. Can you help?"

Now this is promising.