Orton stared. "You've got to be kidding me."

"What?" Enna blinked in surprise. "You said to find us a place that fit the requirements. This matches everything on the list, and it's five blocks from downtown. What's the problem, exactly?"

"I meant, like... a shabby apartment, or even a storage unit or a van! Not something like this!" Orton gazed up at the two-story bungalow with visible dread.

"It's exactly what you said you wanted, Orton!" Enna stamped her foot in frustration. "It's close to the middle of town, with lots of observers, and our rooms are in the basement! The other housemates are all college students, so they're not gonna care what we do as long as we come up with the rent! And they won't even blink at all your weird stuff -- with all your weird books, and drugs, and all that, you'll fit right in!"

Orton sighed, squeezed his eyes shut, and concentrated. Focusing hard to center his ka, he took a deep breath, exhaled his stale chi, and opened his eyes. "I cannot possibly explain how exasperated I am -- "

Enna rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She started to stomp away, but Orton caught her hand. She whirled around, her face full of anger.

"-- at myself," Orton finished. She blinked, surprised. "Enna, you did everything right. It's not what I expected, but... maybe that will be a good thing." He squeezed her hand. "Everything I've tried in the past has failed. Maybe it's time to do a few things differently." He let her hand drop and waited for her response.

She clenched her fists, then let out a deep breath of her own. "Thank you. I'm..." she looked away, "I'm doing my best, Orton. A day ago, I was working a cash register and studying for my trig final."

"I know. I'm sorry." He paused, unsure of what else to say. "I know it's no excuse, but... I'm not great at people skills. I tend to spend most of each loop studying." He looked up into her eyes, trying his best to be humble. "So please, try to be patient when I stick my stupid foot in my big dumb mouth."

Enna giggled despite herself. "We'll see. Maybe you can make it up to me later."

"I will." Orton hefted his bag. "Let's go check it out."

The interior of the house was what college students call "clean enough"; Orton liked it immediately. The main living area had been repurposed into a dining room, with the actual dining room being repurposed into an extra bedroom in flagrant violation of local fire safety codes; Orton could see its occupant brushing his teeth out of a coffee mug. Enna beckoned him forwards, opening the door to the stairs down.

The basement stairs flowed into a large den, which Orton found pleasing. In addition to being a highly-defensible choke point, it had a huge comfortable couch, several beanbag chairs, and a massive TV that had to weigh well over a hundred pounds; Orton missed flat-screens. The basement also had a laundry room, a bathroom, and a bedroom that had been split into two living sections by a screen; that was theirs. The room was small for a bedroom to begin with, and the addition of the screen had made it positively tiny; there was just enough room for a futon, a chest of drawers with a pair of shabby bookends on top, and a laundry basket. It was cramped, dark, and perfect.

"This is great. Exactly what we need." He dropped his bag on the futon and opened it, quickly transferring books to the top of the dresser. "Where'd you put the alchemy supplies?"

"They're over on my side. I figured you had enough stuff to keep track of." She poked at the dresser, wrinkling her brow at its unsteadiness. "What are we going to do about clothes?"

"We'll go shopping tomorrow. I know I'm ready for clean clothes, and I would imagine you are too." Orton didn't really have the power to spare for magical laundry service right now.

"A little. But mostly I'm just really ready to start learning." She sat down on the futon, looking up at him expectantly. Orton nodded, finished putting away the contents of the bag, and sat down in front of her.

"All right. The first thing I want to say -- again -- is that this is not going to be a quick process. It'll be weeks before you can really do magic reliably, and that part is usually pretty frustrating." He assumed a lotus position. "Can you arrange your legs and feet like this?"

Enna folded her own legs up in an attempt to mirror his posture; after a few moments of straining, it became obvious she didn't have the required range of hip rotation. She scowled. "Guess I'm not as flexible as your other girls."

Orton chuckled. What other girls? I was practically a monk before last night. "It would have been unusual if you could do it on your first try. Just sit cross-legged." Enna did so. "Now close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. Focus on your breathing; next time we'll burn some incense that should let me see your aura and give you a little bit more direction, but for now, just concentrate on stilling your mind."

"This is going to be very boring, isn't it," commented Enna, her composed face a picture of tranquility.

"Some of it will be," admitted Orton. "But the sooner you learn how to meditate properly, the sooner it will become interesting, so for now, just focus on the moment." He reached out and picked up her right hand, placing her fingertips on the pulse point of her left wrist. "There. Feel your heartbeat; time your breath to match it. Long, slow, deep breaths; exhale fully through the mouth, hold the empty lungs as long as you can, then inhale slowly through your nose."

Enna winced, "My legs are starting to hurt a little."

"That's part of the process. It helps you stay focused; don't fight it." He pulled his hands back into his own lap and concentrated, letting his consciousness expand; soon he could sense her breath and heartbeat clearly without touching her. "Now, concentrate on slowing your heartbeat down. Relax and breathe." Enna nodded, and he could feel her heartbeat slowing down. "Good. Slow it down more. As slow as you can." Enna lolled a little, on the edge of sleepiness; Orton grinned nastily and clapped his hands together, sending a loud crack through the room.

Enna's eyes flew open, and her hand went to her chest as her heart raced in response to the shock. "Jesus fuck, Orton! You asshole!"

He chuckled. "Sorry. But the exercise is important; it teaches you that the mind can affect the body, and the body can affect the mind. This is the core foundation for how magic affects reality."

She frowned, closing her eyes again as she tried to regain her composure. "What do you mean?"

"Well, some of it you don't have the metaphysical grounding to understand yet, but the easy part is that humans are composed of three parts; the body, the mind, and the soul. The body can affect the mind, and the mind can affect the soul; similarly, the soul can affect the mind, and the mind can affect the body. For most people, this is a strictly internal phenomenon." He paused to take a breath. "But for people like us, we can make changes in our environments, our minds, and our souls that have effects on the world around us -- or, more accurately, that move us into different universes where those effects exist."

"Seems like a lot of science for a guy who's going to give me hard drugs," commented Enna, her eyes still closed.

"Heh. It's technically not even necessary to understand the quantum nature of things; if you invoke and have the power, they'll work. But knowing what's actually happening can be useful if you need to get creative."

"How'd you learn all this, anyway?" Enna was starting to get the hang of this meditation thing; he could feel her mind relaxing and becoming more receptive, even without substance-based assistance. That was a good sign. "Are all wizards quantum theorists?"

"Yes and no." Orton closed his own eyes. "The concepts are universal, but different cultures use different terms and perspectives to describe them. I grew up in the heyday of western science, so that's the lens I use to understand it. Hell, for all I know, my magic actually works differently because of my understanding; maybe other mages have magic that doesn't have a quantum basis. But I doubt it." He opened his eyes again. "Also, there's a specific terminology. Occult spellcasters are properly called magi; wizards are a specific subset of them, who focus on ritual magic."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Is that different from a sorceress?" Enna was practically half-asleep now.

"A little. Sorcery is, strictly speaking, just a talent for offensive magic; anyone who's exceptionally strong at combat invocations or curses can be called a sorcerer."

"Wait, what?" Her eyes flew open again. "So I'm especially good at magic that hurts people?"

Whoops. Orton grimaced at her loss of composure; that was going to take a while to regain. "Yes. But that's just the result; the root cause is that person has an intuitive affinity for impulsive magic. If magic feels natural to you, you'll be better at quick and highly-directed powers, and most combat magic falls into that category. Conversely, mages who don't have this talent have to rely more heavily on formal spells and rituals, and thus get better at them; those mages are called wizards."

Enna closed her eyes once more. "How many kinds of magi are there?"

"Right now, in this universe, there are two; because there's me, you see, and there's you." Enna giggled. "But there are hundreds of occult traditions, each with their own terminologies and rules, and I'm sure they all work in at least one universe out there. But for us, here and now, this is what magic is."

"Okay." She took another deep breath. "So now what?"

"First, I want you to concentrate and visualize two pillars on the backs of your eyelids." Enna nodded. "Now, imagine that they're surrounded by flames of a special and unusual color."

"Hmm." Her brow furrowed a little. "This is hard!"

"It'll get easier with practice, don't worry." And then you'll have to do harder stuff instead. "What color are the flames around the pillars in your imagination?"

"Um. Blue? No, wait. Greenish-blue. Cyan, I think it's called." Her eyebrows jumped up in surprise. "That's awfully specific."

"Sounds about right. Now I want you to visualize the center of your self, and imagine where it might be seated in your body. For different people, it's in different places; for some people, it's the forehead, and for others, it's in the stomach, and so on." He reached out and gently placed two fingers at the top of her sternum, directly between her collarbones. "Yours is right here."

"Holy shit, Orton!" Her eyes flew open a third time, shocked. "How'd you do that?"

"The heart chakra is green; the throat chakra is blue. So if your visual metaphor is cyan, that means the center of your self is halfway between them, and that you strongly identify with the concepts of devotion and truth."

"Pfft, that sounds like bullshit. I mean, whatever." Her eyes flicked away.

"It's fine. These sorts of things take a while to accept." He retracted his hand and put it back in his lap. "It also means you'll be especially strong with magics of the air and the voice. And that's a very, very powerful specialty for magicians, because almost all magic require a spoken incantation or command."

"What, so I can do a magic scream like a comic-book character?" She grinned. "Because that sounds pretty cool."

"There are spells that can do that," Orton conceded. "But that's not nearly as powerful as, say, commanding that someone forget you. Or that they drop dead."

Enna smirked. "So that's why you were scared of me."

"Among many other reasons." Orton shuddered. "If you wanted to, you could have made my bones jump out of my body with a word. You were very, very dangerous."

Enna's head tilted to one side, and she regarded him curiously. "Then why teach me to be that dangerous again? Aren't you scared?"

"A little," admitted Orton. "But I thought then, and still do now, that the risk is worth it. You're strong, Enna, and I need your strength. I've tried four times to do this by myself, and I've never succeeded." He closed his own eyes. "Maybe with you I'll have a chance."

Enna looked at him. "I thought you said you were going to be honest with me this time."

Orton sighed. "What do you want me to say? That I'm using you for your talent? I've never denied that." He looked down, frustrated. "I don't have the luxury of pure motives here. Gentry is too powerful, and he's always a step ahead of me."

"Who's Gentry? Is he the bad man you mentioned earlier?"

"No, that's an old sorcerer named Nej. We'll probably end up fighting him, but I've killed him four times before; he's not much of a threat." Ya countin' chickens, boy, said Nej's voice in his mind; he blocked it out and continued. "Gentry is a wizard, like me, who tries to destroy the whole world in twenty years. And I don't mean figuratively; he makes the moon crash into the Earth and destroys the planet."

"Wow." Enna blinked. "That's horrible, but also awesome."

"It's not subtle, I agree." Orton did not share her enthusiasm, but he was willing to consider that he might be a little bit biased, having spent the last fifty-odd subjective years trying to stop it. "It's not an easy or quick ritual; it has a lot of intermediate steps, and one of them is a mass human sacrifice of five million people. He does it by destroying New York City."

"Hmm. Are we sure he's evil?" Like many natives of Louisiana, Enna did not have a particularly high regard for the Big Apple.

Orton rolled his eyes. "He's very evil. He gains his powers from butchery and murder. He literally worships the devil. He is not, as they say, misunderstood."

"Okay. So, how do we stop him?" She tossed her hair, looking a little ready for a fight.

Orton had to admit he liked that. "First, you learn enough magic to fight. And then second, we go burn down that bookstore."

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The man who called himself Cameron weaved through the city streets like a fish through water; the sun had set nearly an hour ago, and he could move more freely the less he was observed. He ducked through an alleyway, shot a mugger before he could even draw his knife, and slipped away through the back door of a Chinese resturant before anyone could investigate. He didn't have time to waste.

He flowed smoothly through the kitchen (tasting a bit of the soup as he passed; it needed pepper, he decided) and ducked out the front door without being noticed before hurrying across the street and up into a loft, where he found his quarry hiding and quivering in fear. That was definitely ideal; Cameron did his best work when other people were shitting themselves.

"Now, see, wasn't that a big ol' waste of time, son?" he said, turning a chair around and straddling it as he gestured paternally with his enormous revolver. "Seems ta me that we coulda been havin' this conversation a while ago without nearly so much fuss."

The man, who until recently had been a mail carrier before coming into an unexpected sum of money and retiring early, was deeply regretting his recent life choices. He closed his eyes, too scared even to beg for his life.

"Now then." Cameron cocked the hammer on his revolver idly. "All's I want is a name, feller. Who gave you the money to deliver the package?"

"I don't know their name!" sobbed the other man. "They just gave me the package and a half-million dollars! I didn't ask any questions! Please, please don't hurt me, I'm so sorry --"

"Son, where I come from," said Cameron, standing up, "we have a saying." He strode over to the huddled, shaking form in the corner, knelt down, and raised the other man's gaze to meet his with the barrel of his firearm. "'Sorry don't fix what's broken'."

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Orton awoke. All in all, this was a pleasing turn of events; he'd been listening to Nej talk in his dreams for a subjectively unpleasant length of time, and was happy for the reprieve. But a quick look at his watch told him he'd awakened early; it would be dark for hours yet, and his circadian rhythm was still bound to the mortal realm. Something else must have roused him.

He looked around, wary and alert for signs of danger, but his sight beyond sight sensed nothing; he'd warded both the house at large and the room in particular before going to sleep, so the chances of anything hostile finding them here, especially this quickly, should have been virtually nonexistent. But something had definitely awakened him; he remained still and listened, trying to sense his surroundings.

The divider between his side of the room and Enna's shifted minutely, with a quiet sound on the hardwood floor; he relaxed. "It's okay. I'm awake."

She shifted the divider enough to pass by and peeked around it, apologetic. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep."

"It's okay." He sat up. "It's been a rough two days."

She fidgeted a little, then quietly came closer and sat down beside the bed. "I keep thinking about my dad. About whether he's lonely."

"He's not." Orton closed his eyes and lay back down. "The Clay Atborough of your original universe is fine. His daughter Julie is with him, and even though she never figured out what was going on with that weird Orton guy, she'll get over it. And the Clay Atborough of this universe has his own life, and isn't missing you." He stared at the ceiling, disturbed at his own words. Why do I suck so bad at this?

Enna was silent for a long time. Then, tentatively, she picked at Orton's covers. He repressed a sigh and moved over, creating a space for her, and she slipped into the bed with him.

"I'm sorry, Orton," she said in a small voice. "I don't mean to be needy, I just..."

"Enna." he closed his eyes. "I told you before. It's me I'm frustrated at, not you."

"Why?" He could tell she had already been crying.

He shifted around, trying to get comfortable in the face of distracting physical stimuli; being eighteen, he thought to himself, definitely has its own special problems. "Because..." he searched for the right words, knowing he wouldn't get a second chance. "Because I'm scared. Because I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to screw things up, and I'm not good at this, and a million other reasons."

She laughed, a little bitterly. "That's great. I slip into a guy's bed, and he's scared. Real great for my self-esteem."

Orton flushed. "Don't you get it? I'm not scared of you hurting me. I'm scared of losing you."

As soon as the words left his mouth, his jaw dropped open. Oh. Oh shit. Too far. I didn't mean to say that. The silence stretched tautly between them for several seconds.

Eventually, Enna sighed, her breath hitching a little. "R-right. Because you need my power to stop the moon. Sure." She started to slip out of the bed.

Fuck. Shit. Say something. "I, uh..."

"It's fine, Orton. Don't worry about it." She rose to her feet and looked back towards him, a sad expression on her face. "Like you said... you never denied it."

Orton's courage collapsed; he couldn't think of any way to refute her words. Delicately, Enna tiptoed back to her side of the room, easing the divider quietly back into place behind her; and Orton was left alone, with an aching heart and an inconvenient erection. He wasn't sure which one was worse.