The problem with my Assistant Inspectre powers means that moving between realities, or sets of them, is somehow a helluva lot easier than moving within them. I can pop between Dresden and Chalk's multiverses like I'm taking a jog, but flitting between places on even the same planet? Good luck.

Hadleigh, who doesn't have this problem (but then, he wouldn't) told me that I'm still at that level where my powers take my job literally.

'The hell does that mean?' I grumbled around a smoke, hands in my pockets.

The oldest Oblivion clasped his behind his back, black leather duster swishing like we were on a windy plain, not underground, in some cave where the only air was stale and reeked enough to probably floor a vanilla. But then, the Detective Inspectre doesn't make allowances for mortals. Anyone willing to go looking for him instead of waiting for him to go to them should also be able to hang out where he does.

'It means,' he said, 'that your abilities see you as a being who travels between planes of existence, not inside them.'

'Wouldn't it be funny if they made it so I can't even walk around, by that logic?' I asked acidly.

Hadleigh nodded, and I think something distantly related to a smile briefly appeared on his pasty mug. 'It would be, actually. But you have alternatives in case you are immobilised.'

I gave him a dirty glare, which he met with a blank look, eyes like chips of coal under a mane of even darker hair. Finally, he said, 'You can always return to the Deep School and brush up your knowledge, Stark.'

'I need a Dark Academie reunion like I need a hole in my head,' I told him, affecting the flat tone he loves so goddamn much. Can't be assed to care about anything besides the job and the family, I guess.

Hadleigh nodded. 'Very well. Then I suppose you are going to resume looking for ways to evict your lady friend.'

He'd repeatedly said that trying to force Lilith out would cause more problems than it would solve, even if both of them didn't die in the attempt.

'Definitely ain't looking for ways to keep 'er there,' I replied.

I haven't found anything, but I'm still searching, even if, at this rate, I'll probably surpass Hadleigh when it comes to moving without moving befoe I find a solution to Taylor's mom. Speaking of Lilith...

The place I dragged Selene to, in my universe, was the result of a search, if you could call that, with my powers. I can choose where I show up in a reality, to a degree. Places I've been or ones I'm familiar with are easier to arrive in, but broad descriptions work some of the time. Before I left Chalk's universe behind, I decided I wanted to go to a desert, some nasty, sandy wasteland no one would look for, but not one the military used for sticking aliens up their probes, or whatever they did.

So, we showed up in a hellhole in the middle of nowhere, so empty of life there weren't even any bleached bones around. The boulders and cacti cast long shadows, at least, which would be useful if the witch needed another look at Lilith.

I'm not sure where I am, exactly, but since I was aiming for America, probably somewhere along the border with Mexico. I have a feeling a human would be panting in this heat even if they were wearing those loose desert nomad robes, but I'm cool as a cucumber in my leather getup, which is more than can be said for my tagalong.

Funny thing about people chopped up with my black bone blade: while they can go on after what would otherwise kill them, they still react to their surroundings like they would if they were in one piece, more or less. Which means the toadlike woman is gasping and wheezing and red-cheeked. I'm tempted to give her some water just to see her whine after it pours out the hole at the bottom of her neck.

Kasabian reacted like that to his first drink after decapitation. It was freaking hilarious, if you ask me, and Selene somehow seems to be an even bigger bitch than him, despite having some actual ambition.

Planting my ass in the sand, I lean against one of the bigger boulders. Not for the shade, because I need it even less than I want to help the witch, but because, in case some desert freak or thrill-seeker or some other dipshit shows up, they won't spot us right away.

"Go ahead, then," I tell her, smirking at the unintentional pun as I trace the base of her neck with my black knife. I've never actually tried to see how many times I can slice someone up and keep 'em alive with this. I'm sure everyone who's heard of me is shocked. "Tell me about your plan, and maybe, when I stick you on the fattest grub I can find, I'll do it neck-first."

She gulps, either at the threat or because of the weather, and it makes me want to summon my gladius and cut her in half. No one was more fucked up because of my surroundings than because of me back in Downtown, and that makes this place look downright balmy.

"This universe," she begins, likely thinking we're still in Chalk's, then stops, licking her chapped, bloodied lips. Understandable; when I moved through the space between multiverses, I did it fast enough that someone hurt and distracted like her probably missed the vibe of the place, and thought I was performing some smaller-scale teleportation. "This universe is a focal point. When events of great magnitude occur here, they send ripples beyond its boundaries, which an adept of the arcane can use to construct bridges between the now, what has been and what might be."

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Adept of the arcane...oh, someone please fuck me sideways with Larry Oblivion's fairy wand. It's like I'm back in Mason's circle, before he shipped my dumb ass to Hell in exchange for power, or talking with Dresden. He spouts shit like this when rambling about how magic should be about creation and life, like it's anything but the fanciest gun ever handed to an idiot.

"I see," I say, blinking slowly. Then, "And your idea was to shake up a restaurant, kill a handful of vanillas and put their corpses to work? Not gonna lie, even for a place boring enough to spawn you, that sounds pretty goddamn dull."

Her lips become a thin white line a she swallows a retort. First time in her life she's swallowed, probably. "Means to an end. Pure destruction is the province of dabblers and fools."

I smile, because if I mess her up more than this, she'll be unable to talk, and I don't wanna have to conduct a seance for whatever she has instead of a soul. Too much of a pain in the ass. I just wanna finish this job and go get hammered with Kas at Maximum Overdrive. Chances are Candy's there with her girl, but, shit, seeing her happy should make me happy too, not make me whine like a bitch.

Truth is, as fun as it would be to bully Humpty Dumpty and get plastered while he talks my ears off with devil movie trivia, it's not out of the question to run into people I give a damn about and who care about me in return, for some reason. Candy being there for band practice and offering me a date (I understand she and Alessa have an open relationship going on, which, good for them; if her girlfriend wants to see other chicks, that's nice) would have me grinding my teeth, because I don't need her pity, and I want to waste her time even less than I want to see that sad face she'll make when I refuse her.

Allegra will definitely be there, probably brooding over Vidocq. The immortal alchemist was more of a dad to me than either the bastard who put a load in mom or the one she replaced him with, but she loved him. And until I get over not being there to help him, I can't even crack a joke about her preference for DILFs.

Or, shit, what if Kasabian's having one of his moments of sanity and tells me I need to get my crap together (like I don't know)? He gets a dose of clarity every now and then. When he takes a break from the bare necessities, like Baloo's horny wino cousin, he's not half stupid.

Nah. If I'm here, I'm going to look for people who won't make me want to jump headfirst though a wall rather than talk. Like Samael, or Mr. Munnin.

Ex-Satan and schizophrenic God fragment. I keep a wide circle of pals, people. So wide I'm surprised they haven't seriously looked for me. I mean, Samael showed up once in a dream, nodding when he was I haven't kicked it before leaving, but I was expecting an actual talk. Mr. Munnin asking me for aa souvenir from other realities, something.

Maybe they talked to Hadleigh instead? The thought of those three in the same universe alone oughta make me clench, but I can't bring myself to do it.

I shake my head as if to shake off those thoughts, because Selene's still talking. "The metaphysical resonance of this cosmos is such that, with an appropriate sacrifice during the right ritual, one can remake reality."

I nod, like that isn't a description of prepared magic everywhere, ever. "Right, right. And-not that you'll get to make it, but I'm curious-what kinda sacrifice would that be, Selly?"

She grimaces at the nickname (I think, but she's probably just ugly like that) and tells me. I laugh my bony ass off. I don't think I've ever seen a were, much less a were kid, in my universe, the closest being those jaguar (leopard?) men with frat bro vibes who sometimes show up at Bamboo House of Dolls.

When I wind down, I smirk in her face, and damn, she's not pretty enough to pout. I like full lips as much as the next guy, but when your mouth's this fat, you just end up looking like a fish. It's a testament to how boring I am, and to how much I need her, that I'm only dissing the old bat, and in my thoughts at that.

"Let's say you manage. What happens then?"

Her eyes, green like poison, almost glimmer when she answers. "A rift would open. My husband would come through, and the aching hollowness he left behind when I lost him would disappear."

"Your hubby, huh?"

"Yes," she says, and she sounds like a schoolgirl with a crush when she adds, almost reverently, "Chernobog."

I shudder despite myself. There was some fucked up business going up in one of the more expansive macrocosmic clusters a while back, and a fucker with that name was front and center. But I know her husband can't be the Black God. Even if he was, that bastard got put away by a smarmy son of a bitch more dangerous than I'll likely ever be.

No. Most likely, just another warlock with delusions of grandeur, picking up a god's name like lost change. Same as Ahriman. Though...given how fucker up Selene's, and his too I guess, kid is, he probably wasn't too human when he died.

"Alright. Say hubs comes back, you're a happy couple again, the works." Holding her by her hair, I give her a shake. "What happens next? This rift, how long until it closes? What happens when it does?"

She looks at me like she doesn't get the question, or I don't get the greatness of what she's saying. "Once opened, it cannot be closed. But what does it matter? A version of my Chernobog, from the past or an alternate timeline, could return to me. Anyone...everyone, even you, can have their heart's desires. I could-"

I slam her into the ground, leaving her chocking on sand. Yeah, right. I know how the kind of places where everyone can get what they want end up as, and they ain't no meritocratic utopias. When they aren't anarchic shantytowns, they're just jungles. Take Hell: everyone can rise up, sure, but in reality, the weakling just end up as props in the stupid games the big boys set up...

Set up...

I can't help but grin as I lift Selene's head. She's sputtering but otherwise ok. I suppose a bodyless head wouldn't need air, but you never know, with magic. "And you still have the ritual in mind? The steps, the necessary..." I snicker at her widening eyes. "Materials?"

"What are you-"

"Shh~," I whisper, pressing the black blade against her lips, just enough to draw blood. It's neither the sacrifice nor the spell I want, but the knowledge and what it represents, the paranormal clout. "Don't get into a tizzy, now. I'm not putting you to work. Neither this place nor the one we're going to is the sort where you can set up your Tinder profile of a summoning circle." Well, the Nightside is, but she won't get the chance. "But you might just have the solution to making my job easier, Selly."

Tossing her up and down, effectively slapping her every catch, I begin whistling as I start slipping out of reality.

"I just have to pick your brain first."