The rush of heat through her forearms and into Morrigan’s palms was met with a matching heat from the air. The latter continued to get hotter as blinding sparks of light caught like someone striking flint against stone. Then came the flames. They danced around in small circles of embers at first, no larger than a golf ball in size. They continued to eddy, enlarging to the size of bowling balls. Their centers were mostly empty exception for the occasional flare of flame. But the outside of the orbs were a flickering sea of fire.

The orbs illuminated her body, and her outstretched arms casts shadows. The shadows danced across her black combat jeans, her duty belt where she kept her potions holstered in several reinforced pouches, and her black jacket and shirt. Her dark hair had been tied in a pony tail that went through her unglamorous ball cap, keeping it safely away from the flames.

Though not her usual style, Morrigan was still dressed for both combat and the use of her magic. All of her clothes were specially made for her, with a unique fabric that did more than just let her skin breathe. The multiple pockets in her pants had all sorts of lightweight tools, alchemical ingredients, and even a small “grimoire” in case she forget a spell that she needed to cast. And of course if that failed, there were always the handgun she tucked into her waist belt, concealed from Carol’s eyes. Granted, Morrigan would have preferred a hip holster, but didn’t want to scare Carol who had likely never seen a gun in her life.

But instead of scaring Carol with a holstered gun … Morrigan had done something worse, something that she had hoped to avoid on this trip: show Carol her magic. Morrigan had wanted plausible deniability about her magical abilities.

Magic, although alive and well in the world was the talk of folklore and movies to the common person. Even if Carol was showed magic by the bog hag, that would not guarantee that Morrigan had any special powers. Any suggestions of such could easily be laughed off or ignored.

Morrigan preferred that plausible deniability given this woman’s ability, or wealth, to find and connect with the Sons of Lilith. The Sons of Lilith was, after all, a paranormal mercenary group that should have been far, far out of Carol’s reach. Yet find them she had — or at least Harold, her Life Manager had. The hours Harold work to reach S.O.L. must have been severe.

Regardless, Morrigan had intended to only use magic if their lives counted on it.

But that’s now how this was going after all.

So many reasons…

Not being able to get a word in had taxed Morrigan’s patience. Hearing that Carol would punish Harold, a man who probably had gotten roped into working for Carol the same way Morrigan had, was wrong and needed to be prevented.

But that wasn’t all of it, now was it?

Morrigan knew she could give a thousand logical reasons why she just showed this woman magic. She could hide the reason why she took this mission under logic, or even just the concern to help the woman with her relationship goals. But looking at Carol, Morrigan could see why.

Carol’s expression had went from slack-jawed confusion, to closed mouth fear. That fear then dispersed, taken over by a smile that went from awe to pure joy. The flicker in the woman’s eyes wasn’t from the fire’s Morrigan wielded either.

“Magic … is …. Real? Magic is real!” Carol said, eyes wide, body visibly tightening and shaking in excitement like a child about to hold a puppy.

Morrigan too once held such excitement. Long before she started her sterile studies of the sciences. Before she realized that her family had their head in the clouds and that she needed to be the grounded one. Back when she was young, and her grandmother would make her cookies and tell her about all manner of, fantastical things, heroic stories, and instilling in her that the world was both exciting and people at their core were good. A time back when Morrigan could dream unabated. A time when mystery and wonder was innocently abundant.

And though, circumstance has led her to unraveling the science behind the magic of so many things to make for a better world, it didn’t mean that she stopped valuing the ability to have awe. Like a parent who knew the benefit of believing in Santa Claus for a child, she knew the value of believing in that the world was truly magical. And she didn’t want to take that away from anyone. She didn’t want someone’s wonder to fade.

“Your perception is accurate,” Morrigan responded.

Carol clapped her hands together. “Oh my gosh! This is great! I can’t believe it. I mean, I believe it, of course I do-did. But wow, I never thought I’d see real magic.”

“Yes … your Harold did a fantastic job,” Morrigan said. “If I were you, I’d give that man a raise as few other people would have been able to reach us as he did and even have me consider this.”

“Yes, but of course. He’ll surely get a raise. Don’t you worry. I might even give him a week off from being on-call. I think he gets bothered when I call him in the evening to discuss what I’ll wear the next day.” Carol brought a manicured finger up to her face, taping her chin. “I guess trying to do over the night rushed orders might be a bit challenging.”

“A few months would be minimally reasonable,” Morrigan said quickly. Carol’s words had brought Morrigan back to earth like a balloon that was running low on helium. As much as Morrigan wanted to dream or enjoy the moment of awe, she had to reconcile with reality. And the reality was that Carol was an aloof snob, even if she did believe in magic.

“Right, right. So now that I know magic is real, which is amazing, I know that the bog hag can help me. Right?”

Morrigan brought her palms together as the fireballs shrank back in size. Once they touched they collapsed onto themselves, and left noting but light ash on Morrigan’s hands. Morrigan brushed her palms off on her pants, careful not to hit her potions or to trace her gun.

“She said she would see you, as surprising as that is. So we’ll just have to see. Also —”

“Great! You’re wonderful! I’ll make sure to invite you to our next holiday bash dear! Now tell me. How do you do the,” Carol raised her palms up, “Poof thing that you did?”

“Mrs. Lancaster, the utilization of —”

Carol continued, cutting her off again, “Can I get a picture? Where did you learn how to do that? Can you teach me?” Carol continued speaking, tossing questions, making statements, and giving Morrigan no space to speak.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Morrigan felt that same annoyance rise up again. She chanted a quick utility spell and the tip of her finger alit with a small fire. Morrigan closed the rest of her fingers, giving the universal “shhh” sign to Carol.

“No! Teaching you would breach the extensive contract that you signed. S.O.L. was not contracted to be your teacher, or to educate you on magic more than necessary to warrant you safety.”

“But ….”

“And so that you know, it’s not so much a matter of where, but a matter of how to learn magic. It takes long years of studying a tiring text that are more convoluted than reading treaties born from the combined minds Fredrich Schleiemacher, Nietzsche, Newton, and Einstein. Then toss in social cognition, organic and inorganic chemistry into the mix for proper a base. All the while trying to make sure you don’t incinerate yourself from the inside out while you’re learning.”

“Um?” Carol said, looking a bit of loss of words.

“It’s like reading a manual on how to program a VCR … from a Japanese, to German, to English translation. But the manuals are encyclopedia size in length.”

“There’s got be a short cut. I’ll just have Harold —”

“You cannot! There are no shortcuts. Like science, there are steps you must take, observations to be made, calculations and analysis. Deviation in these studies would cost you your life. There are no shortcuts and no one can do the work for you. If you try to short-cut it, you will likely blow up, melt into a pile of goo, or suffer an unfortunate combination of any the former effects, such as burning from the inside while your appendages explode from their sockets like shotgun shells. I believe that would be a distasteful display for your holiday gathering. Or is my logic off?”

Morrigan gave the woman a few moments to consider the images of fingers lancing threw the air, blood splattering her walls and guests, and her body melting into a pile of goo.

As if to confirm this, Carol responded with a stutter “No … no, that wouldn’t be — “

Morrigan cut her off, “Correct. That would be very bad for your festivities. My logic is undeniable. That said, I shared that with you for two reasons: one, no more questions about me teaching you magic; two, the woman we will meet today can do a lot more to you than that. And she can do it a lot quicker than in a few years time. She can have you eviscerated by nature like that,” Morrigan said with snap of her fingers.

Carol’s eye widen, her shoulders raised, and Morrigan expected that the woman became pale, but that was hard to determine with the high-end make she wore. Skittering from the underbrush drew Morrigan’s attention away from Carol. She bladed her body towards the potential danger. But whatever was there had disappeared.

“What was that?” Carol asked, her voiced worried.

“Uncertain. I cannot verify.” Morrigan said. She sighed and looked up at the sky. Still daylight, bun the sun had shift its position. They were losing time and if Morrigan didn’t want to give this woman a piggy back ride to the bog hag’s hut so that they could make it in time, they’d need to get going, now.

“Mrs. Lancaster. We need to get going.”

“You can protect me, can’t you?”

That was a good question. Perhaps the best question Mrs. Lancaster could have asked at this point. It was a question Morrigan asked herself. She could handle the creatures of the woods, but an enraged Bog Hag was an all together different ordeal. They were elite witches in their own right and not worth the engagement on an equal playing field.

But this wouldn’t even be an equal playing field. They would be walking into the domain of a Bog Hag. In such a realm of cultivated magic, even low level spells would be supercharged. She would have access to spells not normally under her control. And the hexes that she could put on a person would nearly be unbreakable.

But Morrigan couldn’t tell Mrs. Lancaster that. They were too far along now. Mrs. Lancaster knew magic was real and would likely never leave S.O.L. or Morrigan alone until she met with the Bog Hag. Telling the woman that they were essentially walking into a spider’s lair would do no one any good.

“I can do the best I can,” Morrigan said, after making eye contact.

“What do you mean you will do your best?”

“You are an unknown variable,” Morrigan said. That wasn’t completely true. She had a sense about who this woman was, which is why she was saying going to continue her statement. “If you want to increase your likelihood of survival, you must do the following things: You will need to do as I instruct you; answer the Bog Hags questions truthfully; and, above all else, be respectful. If you do that, everything should be fine.”

Morrigan decided to keep the, “As long as she doesn’t out right attack us first,” to herself.

Mrs. Lancaster kept the gaze a bit longer than Morrigan expected. But the eyes were actually focused on Morrigan, but instead looking off into the distance. The woman shimmied her shoulders uncomfortably coming too. It appeared that Mrs. Lancaster wasn’t staring, but digesting the serious of the situation - a situation that no matter of moony would be able to help her with now.

That is, unless she wanted to go back and bring a whole team of people with her. Morrigan doubted that. And if on cue, Mrs. Lancaster patted her hair down in place, adjusted her dress, straighten in posture, giving off an air of elegance. “Well, shall we? I wish not to keep the Bog Hag from her activities and I have a cocktail party to get to later this evening.”

“Of course,” Morrigan said. As Morrigan took a step forward she felt a strand of something soft and tacky cross her face and ear.

Mrs. Lancaster had turned around too, still awkward in her movements. She took a single step forward and then her hands rushed to her face. She pulled at something invisible. Her elegant presence was shattered by her unload like spitting that reminded Morrigan of something giving a raspberry. “Pppfftss. Eww. Spider webs.”

The woman took a bad step back, stiletto heel getting stuck in an awkward angle in the mud. Then the woman started to topple like the Leaning Tower of Pizza - a slow but very clear fall. Her hands wave frantically in the air trying to catch on to the nothing that was there.

Morrigan’s boots thumped across the pathway to Mrs. Lancaster. A hand hit her in the face, knocking off her glasses, and the weight of Mrs. Lancaster’s body drilled into her. The other woman, still trying to right herself grabbed roughly onto Morrigan’s shoulders, pulling her collar out of whack.

The smack stung Morrigan’s face, her vision blurred without her glasses, and her back hurt her from catching the woman in such an odd angle. Then there was the now oblong collar to her shirt that she’d have to contend with while the taller woman continued to crawl up her. The shirt’s special properties allowed for a number of safety features. But its most important property made it fragile to pulls. At least Mrs. Lancaster had just pulled on that, and not on Morrigan’s necklace that bared a crescent moon charm.

Morrigan sighed in frustration as she tried to help Mrs. Lancaster to a stand, which was made harder from the woman’s awkward positioning and that her shoe was stuck in the ground.

It was in this instance that Morrigan wished any other member of S.O.L. was here with her. Sera could have just used her wings and flown this woman to the Hag’s hut. Ripley would have been able to simply carry the woman there.

But that would have meant Sera and Morrigan splitting up, and the Hag, made it clear that Morrigan must be present — which was unnerving in its own right. And though Ripley would have sweet talked Mrs. Lancaster with his mid-western charm while carrying her like a knight from a bye-gone era, his allergic reaction to the sun wouldn’t permit this daytime travel; vampires had few weaknesses after all, but that was an undeniable one. One which she was reluctant to figure out how to reverse through her alchemical studies.

Nope. This was a job for Morrigan and Morrigan alone.

After a few moments of the woman struggling, and batting Morrigan again, but on her ear, Carol finally came to a one legged stand. Pushing down hard on Morrigan’s shoulder as a crutch, Mrs. Lancaster pulled her foot from the pathway. She placed it down and winced automatically.

Still leaning a good amount of weight on Morrigan’s shoulder, Carol said, “I think I hurt my ankle. You’re going to have to help me walk I think.”

“Walking Miss Daisy,” Morrigan muttered to herself.

“What was that?” Carol asked.

“It was irrelevant. Just put your arm around my shoulder, and let’s get moving.”

They both began to trudge on, with the weight of Carol Lancaster on Morrigan’s shoulders. It was at this point that Morrigan decided that she’d do a few extra workouts once this trip was well an over.