Donny lit the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling a fresh taste of the salt in the air as he breathed in.

He was in one of his moods.

There was trouble on the horizon, he knew that much, but nothing really going on right now, so his mind was left to stew in stress and dark thoughts. Times like these, he tended to find things to moan about.

He peered over to his far left, to where a crew of men were working to install another of the many electrical installations going up within the city. It was not the first he had seen of them this month; the government pushing to electrify the entire colony since late last year, but every time he noticed crews like them, it unsettled him.

“You know, I’ve lived my entire life in or near the city…and in that entire time, do you know how many times I’ve seen the city voluntarily working to improve things for everybody? For free, I might add?”

The kid said nothing.

“Exactly,” Donny went on, “Call it paranoia, but I see stuff like that and the buzzing in the back o’ my head just goes crazy. I mean, I know there’s copper in them cables, and that’s a lot of resources to be throwing around, to say nothing of whatever they're doing to generate all that electricity they’re putting out—however they’re doing it, right? Something…there’s something about it that just unsettles me, is all.”

A nearby flatfoot, some fresh-faced rookie barely competent enough to be trusted with his current task—which was to keep the looky-loos from going down to the beach Donny and the boy were now gawping at—gave him a look of confusion, the young officer then asking him, “You talking to me?”

Donny gave him a queer look in reply; he was about to nod his head to the kid behind him, but then winced instead as he realised why the copper was confused. He felt himself stiffen as he told himself to not turn around, knowing exactly what he would see—or not see in this case—and that doing so would only make him all the more the fool.

Turning around, Donny only saw the large mechanised vehicle he and Frank referred to as the Beast, and a sidewalk decidedly absent of one little shit.

Resisting the urge to take his hat off and throw it at something, he looked around further, to eventually notice the boy near the entrance to the boardwalk that went out over the sea, talking to some old men playing twenty-six—a small board with a bunch of dice on it between the three of them.

Unlike the rest of the nearby crowds of people, the men were the only ones present who seemed to hold no interest in what was going on down on the beach, a view Donny now returned his own attention to in an attempt to recover what dignity he had left, ignoring the half-smirk the baby copper nearby was doing a piss-poor job of keeping off of his smug, smooth-skinned mug.

Bodies had washed up onto the shore.

He sighed.

…the Beast was a like a woman in many ways: it asked for much, cost them much, and offered them only headaches and trouble in return for that attention.

It was the reason they were out here in the first place.

Operating and maintaining the machine was an expensive and time-consuming endeavour even on at the best of times. But here was the thing: if Donny took the Beast out for a drive, it would use up the precious fluids used to power it and wear down its internal workings. But, if he left it locked up as he much preferred to do, the liquids inside it would degrade, and its internal workings would wear down, sometimes refusing to work at all if he tried to start it after being too long at rest.

So, he was forced to pull off a balancing act of sorts, taking the vehicle out now and then to keep her warmed up for when they truly needed the Beast to serve their mobile fortress.

This was on one of those excursions; one in which Frank had convinced him to take the kid out along with him to better introduce the idiot to the various sites of their fair city—a journey that had brought him by the coast as he gave the little shit a tour of their fair home…and why he had spotted the crowds.

After first spotting them, every instinct within Donny had told him to just keep on driving. A course of action that his first assumption, that being that this was another connection to those kidnappings still going on, was still attempting to draw him to.

But running away was not how you dealt with a problem, especially when magic was tethering you to it, so he and the kid had come to see what was what.

The bodies were not human. Humanoid, yes, but not human.

Some aquatic abominations that had washed ashore late last night; probably having something to do with the sudden change in weather this last week.

Seeing that this had nothing to do with what he feared it did, Donny had stopped to see if he could weasel his way into getting a line on a new job, something to occupy his agency and draw him away from what his ability was trying to draw him towards; that, and to finally get him and Frank back in the game.

They had been relying too much on the kid since the museum debacle—and in the doing of, had been giving the boy far too much say in how things went, too much leverage to call upon it came to making decisions. They were supposed to be the ones in charge, not some snot-nosed little prick half…near half his age.

…but the police had the entire place cordoned off and were not giving the time of day to himself or any of the other freelancers that had come sniffing round.

Even now, he could see a couple of detectives talking with a city’s record keeper while they stood over the corpse of some type of…fish…man, the keeper holding up the box-like device to take another record.

Donny covered his eyes before another overly-bright flash could blind him.

Sensing the approach of someone he would rather not acknowledge, Donny said with a bit of a tone, “You know, running off without telling nobody tends to be the best way to get yourself killed, right?”

“So’s not noticing what’s going on around you,” the kid shot back.

Donny stifled any response he so desperately wanted to reply with right then. Partially because it would get him nothing, and partially because they were in public, and it would not have done well for the already poor image said public held of him.

“Anything interesting?” he inquired.

“Hm?” Goodie said, before replying, “Oh, no, I was just asking them where they shopped.”

“Wha…ugh…,” Donny began to ask, then stopped, not wanting to step into whatever mess was this kid’s train of thought.

He just did not understand the boy.

The kid had bought gifts, at least, something to drink and eat, and for more than just the two of them, he noted.

Goodie took a moment to go and hand the rest to the baby copper and his friends before returning.

Watching the scene in front of him for a good while more, Donny, noticing the kid fidgeting behind him, eventually asked, “Strange aquatic monsters not holding your interest?”

“Not really. Bit curious about all the horny people, though,” Goodie replied.

“The…what?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Donny looked back to him, then to where the kid nodded his head towards the watching crowd on the pier, amongst whom where three people, each bearing a small headband with two nubs of what could be called horns upon them, stood watching the scene as everyone else was, snidely commenting about something as they watched the scene below.

“Lokists,” Donny told the kid. “You know the god? Loki? Follows of his. Tricksters. Trouble, but mostly just annoying. They’re only a problem when they come out in numbers; pay em…”

“Well, that’s us screwed then,” the kid interrupted.

Donny looked back, then turned to look towards the new direction the boy indicated with another sharp nod of his head.

More groups. Two….four…no, more.

For whatever reason, the Locusts were out in numbers…and that was never good.

“Kid, Goodie, get in the truck.”

Thankfully, the boy did as he was told, and they soon were on their way with little fuss, aside from a disturbing sound from the Beast as Donny tried to start her.

Before heading off, he turned to his new and equally annoying partner and said, “Back there? the thing with the cops? That was smart. Really smart. Don’t do it again.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Cops ain’t our friends, kid. They’ll play nice so long as their getting something, but will always turn on you in a heartbeat. Frank has his history with them, hence his getting chummy with the lot, but you would only bring all of us trouble, you understand? If you ain’t one of them, then you ain’t their friend.”

The kid said nothing.

They rode in silence for a while, then, until the kid broke it, offhandedly uttering, “Remember, I got my meeting with Gerome.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should’a timed things better,” Donny said with a bite.

Honestly, his antagonism had nothing to do with the kid—not even with how annoying little shit was. Really, it was all about his frustration with everything. Not being in control of anything—at least more so than usual, that is—this thing with the women, whatever these locusts wanted now, and maybe these fish-men on top of everything else?

But Goodie was not one to lie down. Though generally apathetic, he now bit back as good as Donny had.

“HEY?! I’m the kid in this relationship. Maybe try acting like it? If anything, I should be the one who’s pissed off.”

“What the hell do you have to be pissed about?”

“Well, how about how you two haven’t lived up to your end of things?! Yes, I get that you two are still recovering, and you did get me registered, but I didn’t sign on for minimum effort!”

Donny wanted to retaliate, to say something that would cut the kid short, but he was not wrong. Much of what the boy said was even what he had bought up with Frank…and with himself, time and again.” He did not want to be relying on the kid, using him as a crutch, but things were currently what they were.

Still, just because the kid had a point—one he very much agreed with—did not mean he had to like it.

They once more rode on in silence, an awkward pall filling the cabin as the two fumed in muted frustration.

Well, he fumed, the kid was more concerned with a spill of his drink that occurred after driving over a bump in the road, the stain inconveniently over his crotch.

But Donny was to frustrated to find any amusement in the boy’s minor misfortune.

“Right,” Donny near-shouted a moment later, after slamming on the brakes.

The Beast squealed for but a moment before it came to a complete stop, the sound more due to the wear of its parts rather than for the speed they had been traveling at—which had been barely faster than a half-hearted run.

Taking a look out of the window, Donny then asked, “You see that bit of paper? There ahead.”

The kid only answered him after a second. Far longer than it should have taken. Looking over, he could see Goodie giving him an intense stare, brow frowning as he stared at Donny with blatant caution.

“Don’t worry, there’s a point to this. Take a look.”

Slowly, while still keeping one eye on him, the kid looked over to the bit of refuse about several metres ahead of them on the road.

Removing the cigarette from his mouth and taking a moment to knock the ash out the open window beside him, Donny raised the glowing tip back to his mouth and began to gently blow on it.

One…two…and then, ever so slowly, ever so gently, the paper ahead of them began to smoke.

It was a small thing—made all the smaller by the week of rain and the paper more than likely haven been covered in the grime of the many shoes that had obviously trodden on it since its disposal, but it was a trick worthy enough to invoke some noticeable emotion from the boy. A flicker of awe and wonder.

Donny had expected it, having seen it on many before…hell, having expressed it himself when an old war vet had shown him a similar trick when he was a child near half the kid’s age now.

Only, Donny was wrong in his assumption as to why Goodie expressed the emotion he did now.

Though he could not have known it, Goodie was not into fantasy. It was a fine distraction for any geek, sure, and with magic now being real, he would be a fool to not have a genuine interest in it, but what truly caused Goodie to feel wonder was the prospect of utility.

And if there was anything a tabletop player could attest to, was the utility of Prestidigitation.

“Just fire?” he asked a moment later.

“Huh? Oh, no, you can do water…make things wet. Dirt’ll make things dirty, but it’s harder to do for some reason. Can’t figure out what to do with wind, though.”

“Can I do that? C’n you teach me?”

“Sure. Can start now…unless we’re running late for your meeting?”

“He can wait; what do I do?”

Snorting, Donny then told him, “Well, first thing is to relax, you ain’t gonna get it done here and now. You gotta be able to actually twig on to magic itself before you can do anything. Now, you got your gift, as we all do, but that generally comes out like an instinctual reaction. Real magic—the spellwork, that is—is an entirely different matter.”

Goodie said nothing, just staring at him until he went on.

Donny reached into his jacket to pull out his lighter, but when he presented it, the boy pulled out his own. The sight of it did not please him, especially since he had yet to see the kid smoke even once.

“You know this city has some extreme views on arson, right?”

“Yeah,” Goodie replied, a frown of confusion crossing his brow.

“Just checking.”

Donny returned his lighter to his pocket, then told Goodie how to begin.

“Right; again, you can use water to wet things, but unless you wanna go out to see if it worked or not, I’d suggest getting a spark first—so, your gonna need to light that thing,” he said, nodding to the thick, metal lighter in Goodies left hand.

Goodie did so, flicking open the top of the lighter and igniting a small flame with such deftness that Donny was certain that the kid must have practiced the move for some time beforehand to be able to do that.

“Okay…now, you’re going to try and connect that flame with whatever you're trying to burn. That bit of paper on the side there, near the bench? Yeah, all you're doing is using magic to take out the middleman—convincing the universe that you’ve walked out there and pressed that lighter to that little bit of paper without actually doing it. To do that, you're gonna need to feel…,’ Donny’s words cut off as the paper in sight began to burn.

It was nothing intense, only a small flame a little better than his own earlier attempt for having something dry and somewhat less grime-covered for fuel. A visible sputter that soon burned out as Goodie ceased his efforts, staring at the man beside him in wait for confirmation as to whether he had done a good job or not.

“How…, oh, of course: Understanding taught you,” Donny rationalised out loud.

“What?”

“What?” Donny returned, looking at the boy’s confused face with one of his own.

Thinking a moment, the possibility that he might have come to the wrong conclusion entered his mind. With that thought in mind, he then told the kid in a roundabout means of investigating, “It took me several years to figure out how to entangle something, to figure out how to sense the flowing mana.”

“The…what? You mean that licky thing?”

Now it was Donny’s turn to ask, “What?”

“That liquid tongue sensation? The feeling of being slobbered on from the inside out.”

…

“You know,” Donny remarked, “there are entire collections of books dedicated to the description of the flow of mana, people having spent their entire lifetimes to describe the true majesty of the unseeable…and I will eat my hat if any of their works contain the words ‘Licky’ and ‘Tongue’ in them.”

“Well, that’s it what it feels like…”

“Okay-okay,” Donny relented, holding his hands up, “Just saying.”

Therese a moment’s pause, then Donny said, “You’re from another world?”

“Yeees?” Goodie replied, a little “I’ve told you this a hundred times already,” in his tone.

“One without Magic, you said?”

“Again, yes.”

He was not really talking to the kid, more just talking out loud.

“So, the sensation of magic would be new to you? More noticeable?”

“Okay?”

“Seven years, kid. Bit of a kick to the ego to be outdone in half a minute. Just need a bit of rationalising.”

“Okay…well, thanks anyway.”

“Eh, it’s nothing.”

“No really, thank you.”

“It’s nothing, kid. Just a magic trick.”

Goodie snorted.

“Something I don’t know?”

“Kids on my Earth’d have a different opinion about what you just showed me, ‘s all.”

“And the world without magic knows better about casting than I do?” Donny asked, all mockery in his words undisguised.

“We might not have magic, but we’ve got a lot of spare time,” Goodie answered.

“Meaning?”

“We got plenty of games about fantasy and magic…,” Goodie told him.

Not understanding the link, Donny needed a moment to connect those two concepts. Fantasy and magic.

“… and you know what a bunch of bored kids with too much time and imagination get up when they’ve got nothing better to do?”

“I can imagine.”

“Yes, well, let’s just say that it’s a good thing that my world doesn’t have magic, ‘cause the number of lives that that little spell of yours would have taken would measure in the millions.”

Now it was Donny’s turn to snort.

“No, really,” Goodie assured him.

“Yeah, I believe you. I believe you,” Donny said as he extracted a new cigarette from a small silver case within his other pocket. “How about trying…actually, you know what? Try that trick on my hat.”

“Actually,” Donny then said a second later, cutting himself off as he remembered about the kid’s abilities being sort of different, “don’t. you’re from another world; last thing I need is you turning me inside out. Try that trick on this cigarette.”

Donny looked to the boy when he did nothing.

“Go on,” he pressed further.

The boy complied then, or attempted to. Nearly a minute of effort passed before he eventually gave up.

Goodie made a good show of it, a hint of smoke rising from the tip of the cigarette in his hand. They must be a close match, he noted.

“That frequency I told you about? You remember?” Donny said a moment later.

“Yeah, protects everyone from magic.”

“Sort of, but that’s a good enough explanation for now. It won’t entirely stop someone from hexing you, but it certainly makes their efforts more difficult,” he explained, emphasising his caution by blowing on the tip of the cigarette, a wisp of smoke visibly rising into the air. “Unless they happen to share the same vibration as you, that is. Then all bets are off.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still dangerous, even if it can’t get you directly,” Goodie insisted.

“Yeah, and you remember I did mention the law on arson, right? But again, it’s just removing the middleman from things. Any schmuck with a lighter and a pair o’ legs can do the same thing. For cheaper too.”

His hands moving to get the Beast back in motion, Donny handed the now smouldering cigarette to Goodie, who shook his hand in response and said, “No…uh, thank you, but no.”

“Your loss,” Donny then said, placing the second cigarette next to the old one already between his lips, taking a huge puff as he pressed his foot against the pedal, the Beast jerking back a moment before it began to move once more.

“Y’know those things can kill you, right?” Goodie told Donny a moment later.

“Oh..kay,” he said, stifling a laugh. “And how they do that?”

“Cancer?”

Donny frowned then, looking to the boy and told him, “Been a cancer my whole life, kid; ain’t done me any wrong so far.”

“No, canc…ugh, old-timey. Um…consumption?”

Donny gave him the same look of incomprehension.

“Seriously?”

“Kid, I’ve got no idea what you’re going on about.”

Goodie tried again, explaining in detail about the effects of cancer in attempt to ascertain what name they used for it, Donny’s face taking on a look of reserved horror as he listened quietly.

“Seriously?! You’ve got the common cold, but you’ve never heard of cancer,” Goodie said a moment later, with genuine emotion.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, kid? I’ve never heard of whatever the hell you’re talking about. And honestly, I’m glad for it.”

“You ever get to my world, never mention that. You would not be making yourself any friends,” Goodie advised.

“Yeah, I can guess why. Good gods. And this things’ common there.”

“Eh…yes and no. Common enough that everybody’s got to watch out for it. Most people die from other things, though. Not that that’s any real comfort, of course.”

“Right,” Donny said, half-agreeing, but mostly just to end the conversation so he could focus on driving.

Pulling the wheel to the right, he turned the beast inward towards the city, towards their office, where the kid could get to his meeting. And where Donny could get a drink, the talk of being eaten from the inside out somehow leaving him more unsettled than some of the horrors he had witnessed in person.