My thoughts were quite frankly a bit of a mess. The situation was much more complicated than I initially though, with Smith’s offer weighing heavily on what previously had been a fun camping trip among friends. Yeah, sure there was the ever-present looming threat of monsters working in the dark murk of the forest, but that was, you know, supernatural.

Despite being low-key caught up in a world of dark magics and forbidden tomes secretly squirreled away in mysterious government buildings, there was always that disconnect, that vital barrier that kept it from my rational world of science, firearms, physics, electricity… you know, rational stuff.

There was that hard line between the normal and the spooky. It wasn’t like the supernatural was ever-present, making itself known in the normal mundane environment of school… Okay, bad example. But that’s all on me. And it was only a few petty spells. It was nothing big. It’s not like I’ve had some big, major, obviously supernatural being intruding, making itself known in my thoughts and home…

Who the fuck are you calling big? Are you trying to be cruel? Came the thoughts from the cat that had once again gotten caught by the former corpsman and was reluctantly being cuddled and petted.

Okay, poor example. You get the point though.

No I don’t. You are you even talking to anyways?

Isn’t having some manner of internal dialogue normal?

Yes, but you’re just acting weird. It’s like you’re expecting someone to be listening in on this.

…

What?

Clearly someone is listening in on this, you keep interrupting my train of thought?

Train of thought? It’s more like a drunkard rambling about trying to find their way back home after a long night at the bar. Is there a point to this line of thought? That was a bit harsh. Ouch.

Anyways… bad examples. But there was still somewhat of a disconnect between things that were “fun” and lighthearted, and big things like, I don’t know, me just having a friend try to recruit me into a militia. It’s like the sharp blade of unpleasant reality cut it’s way into a happy and safe camping trip?

*Its

What?

It’s “Its,” not “it’s.”

…

What?

Jahwol, mein frau Grammar Nazi.

Is that even proper German?

I don’t know, but who’s ever heard of correcting someone’s punctuation in their thoughts like that? I always imagined my thoughts as more of a voice than a written thing anyways.

But it gets transcribed into text for me, and bad grammar just, annoys me like that!

Their they’re there, it’ll be all rite. That was care-less of me, widdle kitty.

If people knew you thought like this you’d have a lot of enemies.

Then I’d just have my familiar help me curse them.

You’re thoughts like this are already cursed.

Weren’t you just lecturing me about grammar?

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

She stopped talking, but a low “mrooooooow” began to emanate from the prickly feline in Docs lap. Maybe I went to far? Nah, Probably not.

Doc, despite the clear irritation coming from her furry charge, did not put her down, but instead began to laugh.

“Awww, I think she’s purring! She’s so happy being petted, isn’t she? Aren’t you! Aren’t you, little Chesty…

If this kept going she was liable to bit someone, or worse use magic of some sort on them. I can only imagine how badly that would turn out.

“Uh, Doc? Do you think you could bring her over here? I think she might be getting a bit worn out.”

“Sure, she’s your cat, after all! If I had a cute kitty like this, I’d never want to let her go!” Somehow, the image I had previously had of Doc as a cool, reliable older-sister type of woman had been destroyed over the course of a day. There was an odd spring in her step as she came over and plopped Liah down in my lap rather roughly. I began absentmindedly pet her, and could feel the tension being released from her tiny body, like a compressed spring slowly being released.

Before the series of interruptions, I had been wondering about the best way to approach what feels like an increasingly complex situation. Learning one of my friends actually is recruiting for something seemed to throw everything out of wack for me. Yaddah yaddah comfortable world view being upturned, conceptions about the way reality works ruined, that kind of thing.

You know, I understand you’re upset that you actually have to do the job you were sent here to do, but aren’t you just here as an undercover agent? You don’t have to make any arrests or anything, just make a report. And there’s nothing illegal about being in a militia anyways. Liah said as if to reassure me.

You’re right, actually. Thanks for pointing that out.

Don’t get me wrong, I just want to make sure you have your priorities straight. What ever’s in the woods out here is much more pressing, and it feels like things could get worse. I mentioned that weird spell I sensed on the drive up, and there’s more stuff going on behind the scenes that could exacerbate the situation. Hell… actually, poor word choice. But there’s a pretty major demon flitting about too.

Here?

No, near Reading at the moment, like it’s tracking someone else. That kind of entity is more common “in the wild” as something summoned by a magician of some sort. Like one of those old-fashioned ceremonial magicians. But it’s still ominous. And things seem to be getting kind of weird up here too. Aftershocks of that spell I sensed.

Oh?

Yeah. Be careful. Anyways, I’m gonna rest up for a bit, after all that...unpleasantness.

Okay. Have fun.

With that she jumped out of my lap and trotted back to the tent, tail raised as if trying to maintain what little dignity remained after being subjected to Doc. Mindful of her warning, I checked my pockets, making sure I had the potpourri of charms I had prepared beforehand, and pulled a western-style gun belt and holster out of my pack. The gleam of charmed silver reflected in the dying sunlight, and as I popped open a beer I disassembled the revolver to make sure it was all well-regulated, to say, in good working order.

“Oh, is that a Single Action Army?” Doc asked. “And those rounds look like handloads.

“Yes….”

“Hmm, they seem kind of shiny for lead. Hard cast?”

“You could say that...”

“Naturally. Must have used a fair bit of tin to get them looking like that. Almost seems like bear loads. What’d you load it with.” She seemed eager to discuss this, and I couldn’t think of a good way to explain that there wasn’t a drop of lead in those bullets.

“Forty grains of 3f powder.” I said, checking over my Winchester ‘73.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were into the Cowboy Action stuff! That’s neat! But, aren’t you supposed to use softer rounds for black-powder?” She asked again.

“Oh, you know how it is. I was just experimenting with different cast bullets.”

At this point the discussion on reloading caught the attention of everyone else in the group.

“What kind of bullet lube did you use? I know a lot of people into historical black powder cartridges tend to use mixes of beeswax and animal grease, and I personally use bear grease with beeswax when I can get it to make a hard lube for bullets, but have you tried more modern ones? It might cut down on fouling.” Chimed in Dave, idly holding his lute as he tuned it. It figures he would know a lot about black powder cartridges, since he seemed like a major history buff. The music history degree and the loot kind of tipped me off on that one. Smith, who I had been avoiding since earlier that day, also felt the need to chime in.

“Eh, I never understood the appeal of black powder. Really I kind of like modern guns.” He said, patting the USP on his hip. Actually, was that a legit Mk 23? He even has the proper can, or suppressor, for it. Neat. The over-sized combat knife was a bit much though.

“It’s just fun. Besides I probably could out-shoot you with these wheel guns. I have the load dialed out to 100 yards if need be. Tacti-cool mall-ninja stuff is overrated.”

“Doesn’t beat a good belt-fed though.” Interjected Gabe, as he dragged a Pelican case out of his tent. Opening it revealed a design familiar to anyone who’s worked with machine guns in any sort of western-aligned country.

“Oh neat! Is that one of those semi-auto M240’s FN was making for civilian sale?” I had planned to save up for one at some point. They aren’t overly practical, but they’re neat.

“Something like that.” Gabe replied, chuckling as he scanned the treeline.

“I already showed you this one.” Jeff mentioned as he hefted his Hekate, approaching the group. “But you didn’t bring out those wheel guns. What caliber?”

“.44-40. I wanted a common caliber with the Winchester.” This was nice. Maybe I was worrying over nothing. Just a fun, casual discussion standing around the campfire, showing off neat guns while sharing a few beers. Doc had ran to her tent to grab another one of her dealer’s post-samples to show off, returning with an honest to god P90. Then Jeff’s eyes narrowed.

“Wait, are those bullets silver?”

“Eheheh, don’t be absurd. Why would I have silv-” I froze. A chill went over me, over the whole group. Something inpercievable had shifted. My first instinct was to cast a spell, almost a prayer for protection. As I cast the spell, scanning the woods for signs of danger, it felt as if its effects were somehow stronger than usual.

“Uh, Amy? You’re glowing.” Dave said. Panic shot through me. How did he?

“What do you mean? I’m not a fed, why would you possibly think that!?”

“Methinks the lady doth protest to much.” Jeff said with a nervous laugh as if to drown out the eerie atmosphere. “But that’s not important. You literally glowed just now.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“We really don’t care if you’re also a fed.” Gabe said as he loaded a belt into his m240. Dave and Doc looked on confused, which grew as a figure came running out of my tent.

“Amy! Something bad just happened! We just...”

“Who the fuck are you?” Smith asked.

“Is that… a cat-girl?” Doc rubbed her eyes as if she was crazy. Liah ran her hands over her head, blushing when she felt the ears present on top of her head. They do tend to pop out when she's feeling worked up about something.

“She’s my familiar...” I trailed off.

“But where did she… Oh. I… Must be going crazy.” Doc muttered, downing her can of beer before popping open another. Dave just looked on, thinking things over.

“This seems a bit unusual.” He said, understatement of the century.

“It really does.” Smith agreed. “So you’re already working for an agency? Damn, we wanted to headhunt you… Wait, that’s not what I should be saying, why is there a cat girl? A familiar? This is weird. Magic shouldn’t be...”

“You must be the Agency guy we were warned about.” said Jeff. “But still, to think Amy was...”

“None of this is important right now!” Liah yelled at the group. “We’re in danger! We’re not even in our usual reality anymore!”

Oh. That sounds...not good.