I spend the next few hours until sunrise closing doors. I got a new spear in the first one; a level two on a cul-de-sac not too far from the motel. Maybe like a five-minute walk or so. Two Dogs were in there — one that used a blunted scimitar, and the other that used a broad-headed spear. The goal was to destroy an altar that the two of them had been guarding. I ended the first with a front kick into its sternum that sent it flying backward, and colliding into the altar, destroying it with one movement. The second tried to stab me with the spear, but I twisted my body in such a way that the point would slide uselessly against my armor. I grabbed hold of the spear shaft and used the rim of the shield to collapse the Dog’s snout in on itself. That netted me 220 dollars and a new weapon.

There were four other doors along the cul-de-sac. I closed them all and got 1500 dollars, and the ability to raise 2 of my stat points as a result of clearing the street, in addition to the 1100 dollars from the doors. Naturally, I put both points into strength. After the third door, a helicopter passed overhead and headed in the direction of the motel. That was probably the healer that the medic mentioned the evening before. After I closed the fourth, I make my way back to the motel.

The helicopter had left by the time I had finished the fourth door, it seems, as it is nowhere to be seen. Jenna is waiting outside of the room Lawrence is resting in, watching.

“Oh, hey Shawn.” She turns her head as I approach. “Woke up bright and early thanks to the fucking helicopter.”

“Where did it land?”

“It didn’t. It hovered in place and she jumped on the roof.” Jenna motions to the room. I take a peak in. “I didn’t even have to open the door. She did it herself.”

Inside a young woman, a little younger than Jenna, is standing there running her hand over Clio’s head. Her long, silky brown hair was tied up in a ponytail. On the black belt that hung around her lithe waist was a sheathed basket hilt saber, and a duelist’s dagger right behind it; nearly obscured from view by the baggy blue sweater she wore.

“Are you the healer?”

“No, that’s my brother. He said he’d walk. He doesn’t like flying. The Coward, so hey,” she turned on the heel of her boot and looked to Jenna with her fierce green eyes. “I’m Monica; codename Swashbuckle, and you?”

“I’m Jenna. I own this motel.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“Really? At your age? Impressive.”

“It was my grandpa’s. My dad didn’t want it, so I took it.” She shrugged.

Monica’s eyes turned to me.

“You must be Oak, right? Quite famous, aren’t you?”

“I am.” I reach out my hand, and she takes it with a firm shake, “Nice to meet you.”

“And this is Lawrence? Does he have a codename yet?” She releases my hand and her eyes turn back to the comatose man on the bed. Someone had changed his clothes. Perhaps it was the medic sleeping in the room over.

“I don’t think so.”

“Hm. So, whose dog is this?”

She motions to Clio, laying down on top of Lawrence’s stomach.

“It’s his.” I motion to Lawrence.

“What’s its name?”

“Clio.” Jenna cuts in, “He told me on like the second day we met. Weird name, huh?”

Monica’s eyes dart from me to Jenna, and then to Clio.

“Hmm? It’s a good name.” She walked over and scratched Clio behind the ears, “The name of a muse, I believe.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” Monica stops the scratching and turns back to face me, “So, why can it use magic?”

“Huh?”

“Why — no, how can she use magic?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said. How can it use magic?”

“What magic is it using?”

“It’s healing him. Not efficiently, but consistently.”

“Really?”

Monica nods. I enter the room and look down at Lawrence. Most of the scars on his face — the ghosts of the burn marks from before I met him, the pock on his cheek, and the scorch marks left by the lightning, all of it had faded considerably. I force his left eye open. It’s still missing.

“Oh, what happened there?” Monica says as she peeks over my shoulder.

“His eye apparently melted right out of his head.”

“Really? What did he do? Try to use the power of a god or something?”

“What makes you think that?”

“His core is burning, have you felt it?”

I put my hand on his stomach. Right below his diaphragm. It was true, it felt as if it were on fire.

“Isn’t that just a fever?”

“No. That’s mana, can’t you feel it?”

I shake my head.

“Really? Ah, can you not feel mana?”

“No, I cannot. Is that possible?”

“Yeah. I can, and it feels to me as if he’s full of it, and his body is trying to assimilate it. That’s why he’s out. He doesn’t need healing, he needs time to process it.”

“What is mana?” Jenna interjects.

“Well, the gods and spirits and the like say that it’s the connecting force to everything,” Monica tilts her head and places her hands on her hips, “what connects our consciousness with the...well everything. Think of it as the energy left over from creation. The same energy that created the stars, created us as well, and thus that connects us, see?”

I nod blankly, and Jenna doesn’t look as if she’s understanding any of it either. Monica sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Think of it like...strings of pure energy attaching us all to one another, and to the ground, the sky, the stars, the gods. Literally everything. One can take in this energy that connects them to everything to manipulate the world around them, but only so much. The human body isn’t made to take in a whole lot of it. Especially not at once.”

“Oh, so it’s like string theory?”

“Yeah, kind of, yeah.”

“I see...”

“Uh-huh.” I cannot follow. “Will it kill him?”

“Pffft,” She blows a stream of air through her lips. “No, of course not. Probably.”

“Probably?”

“There’s nothing much we can do about it, anyhow. If he hasn’t died from it yet, he probably won’t. So...how is the dog using magic?”