PART 1

Aaron suppressed a sneeze.

His stomach cramped as he rose from the doll, he'd been hunched over, and he turned away... Safe. No sneeze. No quadrillions of bacilli sprayed across the room - cluttered with cheap, yet priceless, and prohibitive, yet worthless, items. He really needed to dust off the store in the next time. The motes floating in the air were plenty proof of that. But any kind of movement when it was well above a hundred degrees outside was excrutiatingly exhausting (and sweaty) work. Even more so if there was no AC. It had to be nice and cool at night and when one slept most of the day, it must have made Arizona's murderous summer bearable, he thought bitterly.

"Bless you", Sid said with evil glee.

The air tore from Aaron's unaware throat and mouth with a loud bellow and sprayed a veritable mist of snodder over the fifty year old doll. "NO", Aaron shouted in horror at the same time as Christabel squealed, "EEEW!"

Aaron hastily rubbed the residue of spittle off on his sleeve and grabbed in panic for soft microfabric tissues. Carefully, even lovingly, he wiped the patted the doll down and threw a scathing glance at Sid, who fled through the heavy hangings into the backrooms a huge smile on his face. Hoping against hope, Aaron wished for the little critter to wake up Cressinda, so he could face her wrath as punishment, but Sid wasn't that stupid. On the other hand he might well be sneaky enough to wake her and make Aaron out to be the culprit, just to play a prank on top of a prank... Aaron shuddered involuntarily and got back to his work.

The doll was dry now, and he considere using a wet tissue to clean up the remains, but there was still so much dirt in the dolls fabric, that he was scared he'd ruin all the effort he'd put into washing the victorian-style clothes by getting the dirt back into the clean spots. He certainly didn't dare to use any solvent on the delicate porcellain face, for fear of destroying the colour. He'd have repainted her himself, but Christabel had been adamant about leaving the face natural.

Aaron frowned. "Should I just taylor new clothes? I'm not so good at it, though. Actually I'm happy I could patch the holes as they were... I could go out and buy some... But Cressinda would kill me for the expense...", he muttered.

"I want these clothes! Please, just make them pretty again, for when Angie comes", Christabel said in her piping voice.

Aaron wanted to suppress a smile, but couldn't.

"Do you really think Angie will be happy to see me", Christabel asked with a shivering voice. Aaron could hear the tears clogging up her sinuses.

"Of co-", Aaron began, but then the glass door opened and the bell rang. Aaron winced, because he'd forgotten to unhook it and really didn't want it to wake Cressinda, but it was late enough that she'd wake up some time soon anyway, so he relaxed again swiftly and only draped a snow white cloth over the doll. He fixed his customary clerk-smile and said, "Welcome to Edgecombe's Antiquities, Curiosities and Heirlooms. My name is Aaron, how may I help you, ma'm?"

The middle aged woman wore a neither-cheap-nor-expensive grey costume, an oversized hat and black shoes with low heels. She clutched a big handbag to her flat stomach and looked at Aaron with big brown eyes framed by wire glasses. "I-", she began but her voice gave out. She tried again. "My name is Angela Grant. You gave me a call." Aaron jumped. Too soon! "You said, you found my doll? My Chrissy?" The woman's voice shivered, and she seemed close to tears.

"No! She can't see me like this! I'm not pretty, yet", Christabel shouted desperately

"Er... yes, but-"

"'But'?! You said you found her! Did you sell her?!" The woman stormed through the room to the counter-slash-work table. "You didn't, did you? Tell me, you didn't! I haven't seen my Chrissy for forty years!" The woman's voice took on a hystericle undertone. "Please! I know I don't deserve it, after I lost her, but, please, let me see my Chrissy!"

"Wait, wait, wait", Aaron replied hastily. "I didn't sell her! She's just... not presentable", he admitted sadly. "If you could give me another week, she'd-"

"Oh, I don't care! I just want my Chrissy, back", she pleaded.

"But-"

"It's fine, Aaron", Christabel interrupted, her voice choked with tears. "I'm so happy. Angie wants to see me again! Seeing her like this. It's too much for me, I can't bear it! Please, Aaron!"

The doll's feelings clogged his throat up as well so he merely nodded and pulled back the cloth hiding the little puppet. Angela Grant screamed in a mix of disbelief and joy, scooped little Christabel in her arms and pressed her to her chest, uncaring (or maybe unknowing) that she'd dropped her bag and its contents had spilled over the floor.

"My Chrissy! My Christabel", she whispered fiercely and tears flowed out of her pressed eyelids.

"Angie! Angie", the doll squealed in response, though it was hardly intelligible between her sobs.

The raw emotions threatened to pull Aaron along, so he distracted himself by picking up the contents of the bag. When he was done the doll and her owner had calmed down, and Angela Grant looked at him. "How much for her", she asked, suddenly all businesswoman.

Aaron handed her the bag, then scratched his head, awkward, his clerk's smile all but gone. "Erm... I know she is legally a lost and found item... but in this case we usually raise a symbolic fee of two hundred dollars, ma'm."

The woman looked at him surprised. Then she grabbed her purse, pulled out two one-hundred-dollar notes and put them on the counter. She nodded, then turned and made to leave, but stopped. She turned back around, put Christabel on the counter and grabbed his face gently. "Thank you. If there is ever anything I can do for you, just call me." She picked Christabel up again, and then left the store.

"Thank you, Aaron", Christabel shouted, as Angela Grant walked through the door, and Aaron waved at them, feeling deeply satisfied and an incredible warmth in his belly, that had nothing to do with the scorching weather.

"We could have gotten easily five hundred out of that one, Aaron. If you'd fixed it up properly we'd have gotten four digits, too", said a deep, sultry voice behind him.

"Oh, did we wake you? I'm sorry", Aaron said as he turned to Cressinda Edgecombe, his employer. Then he turned back, hastily, blushing, as she saw that she was wearing nothing but a purplish, nigh-see-through lace robe that she'd sloppily tied around her waist, leaving her grand canion cleavage open all the way to her belly button. He fought back involuntary arousal, which was useless, because Cressinda could read him like a book.

The witch snorted. "You're such a virgin, Aaron", she said with mild amusement. Then, annoyed, "I'm hungry. Get me some food. Something that goes well with whiskey, Agnes is coming over."

Aaron sighed. "Yes, ma'm."

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PART 2

Howard Bruckner hated his job.

But his parents hadn't been rich and neither had their parents been, and he hadn't ever won in the lottery, and gambling really didn't work for him and investing money had been just as hopeless (since it's clearly just another kind of gambling), and all in all he'd just really never struck it rich, short-term or long-term. And so he was stuck with this underpaid job, that paid for his work and living expenses and left just a bit of a budget to to keep his skills up-to-date. Well, the theory of it, at least. And maybe some change for gossip - because gossip needed to be paid in (mostly alcoholic) beverages, after all.

Howard was not a bad wizard per se. The problem was that being "not bad" was just not good enough for any commission handed out by any wizard's council.

And so it had come, that Howard Braindead Bruckner had applied to the newly created position of "Police Consultant in all things Supernatural", thinking that his extensive knowledge (he wasn't ignorant of the Other Side or magic in specific; he was simply untalented in executing spells) would make him a valuable asset, in a neat job. The position had been invoked at the same time as its corresponding police sub department SCI - Supernatural Crimes Investigations - when the government had been forced to accept the existence of paranormal things. It hadn't been made public, yet, but everyone agreed, that mass hallucinations of people throwing fireballs and lightnings and what-not could only explain so many of these occurances. Hence, his job. He clearly hadn't thought it out too well though, because he'd almost died on... He'd had stopped counting on how many occasions.

The problem was his "partner", Detective Ann Linsner. A strict and harsh, no-nonsense woman (she'd had to come out on top in the chauvinistic society known as "police", so he could understand that) who had further complexes because of her "cute" height of barely five-and-a-bit feet and her slight stature, Detective Linsner was accustomed to holding citizens to the law and (to her credit) mostly its spirit instead of its words. Too bad, she hadn't quite understood that law doesn't exactly apply to most things from the Other Side.

Mostly because they just laughed at whatever police officer(s) trying to take them into custody and (in the best of cases) just walked away.

Among his "favorite" examples were: Detective Ann Linsner trying to apprehend a vampire for drugging minors. Detective Ann Linsner trying to imprison a pack of werewolves for several disappearances - not that Howard wouldn't have seen them punished, but one left these things best with people actually capable of punishing a goddamn pack of werewolves! And, of course, Detective Ann Fucking Linsner trying to drag a bonafide dragon to an interrogation at the station. Interrogating. A. Dragon. Yeah, Howard would have quitted that instant, if he hadn't lost two hundreds bucks at the horses the week before. The slavery of capitalism...

"What are you grumbling about", Detective Linsner said from the driver's seat.

"Oh. You noticed", he asked in mock surprise. "I was just thinking how it's a terrific idea to waltz into that forest. In the middle of the night. To apprehend nymphs. With handcuffs. Yeah. What could go wrong?"

"Telling me that, is your job", she said drily.

"Uh huh, and ignoring what I say seems to be yours", he mumbled. But apparently she heard him, because she slammed the breaks and his face made quick and painful acquaintance with the dashboard. Should have put on the seat belt, before provoking her...

"Now, listen! You keep complaining, how it's so dangerous, but in the end you still take our money, right?! And leaving money out of it, there are laws! And these apply to all, no matter how powerful they are! And shut up about those vigilantes that 'take care of problems'. They are just as lawless as all the others! Because vigilantism is illegal", she ranted. She would have kept going, too, if not for the cars behind honking in annoyance. She huffed, then started the car again and stared straight at the street.

"My bad", Howard moaned against a tender and bleeding nose.

Ten minutes later, they "finally" arrived at First Stone Park, a cove of trees in the middle of Arizona with a nice little sea, that was the origin of Windfall. Human geographers had tried for one hundred and fifty years to figure out how this veritable miniature forest could have developed in the middle of this dry steppe. Howard knew the answer was quite simple: The local Dryads and Nymphs liked warm weather and the seclusion from other families. But the fact that Windfall had grown around this place, also meant that the true owners of the city's land where them. They usually didn't impress more control, than to dry out gardens' of people they disliked and turn the gardens' of people they loved into tiny copies of Eden, but sometimes they did play judge.

If, for example, a clique of teenagers partied at the lake in the middle of First Stone Park and sunk their empty beer cans in the usually pristine waters, well, they might just disappear, like, oops.

Which was mighty excessive in Howard's eyes and plain inacceptable in any police officers (and basically any non-green-peace-activist of the Illuminated Side), but pollution was actually the very bane of dryads and nymphs, pretty much a mortal sin, so this was a problem of two worlds clashing. And that was never pretty.

But, a clique of teenagers had disappeared, after planning to party at the lake, so here they were. Hooray?

It was nearing half past nine, so the sun was just disappearing on the horizon, taking with it the last fiery rays of another scorching day, but it left plenty of light to see comfortable by. The air was still warm beyond any reason, the sweat of an entire day of legwork under a sun guilty of one hundred and eight point seven degrees fucking Fahrenheit pasting his cheap grey suit on his skin, and for the hundredth time (approximately) Howard decided to leave Windfall and move in a nice cool state, Montana maybe? But, alas, moving costed money, money that he didn't have.

Also he wasn't allowed to leave Windfall, by degree of the Council of the Graceful Lake, for whatever reason. Which didn't make him nervous. Not at all.

Howard pushed dreadful thoughts (that had nothing to do with some (important) Council's dubious decisions, mind you) out of his head and turned his attention to the forest's unnaturally neat border. Twice unnatural, because - one - the forest was a perfect rectangle, after humans had tried to cultivate it, and because - two - Nature's Envoys had allowed them to grow so nicely. Usually dryads created wild, raw, uncontrolled forest, that fought against any edge imposed by humans.

Howard had his suspiscions about that, because, for some reason, this city was crammed with the VIP and who-is-who of the Other Side.

Just yesterday he'd stumbled across an enthusiastic car dealer, who was, in fact, St. George, the Dragon Slayer, made immortal by the blood of the dragon's he'd slain. Howard hadn't said a word, not to anyone, of course, because if people like that weren't known to be in the area, that was because they didn't want to be known in the area, and that meant hell for anyone that "ratted" them out.

Seriously, there were landmines everywhere.

And he wasn't allowed to leave. Yippie!

"You're spacing out again", said Detective Linsner's permanently annoyed voice.

Howard tore himself from his troubled thoughts and focused himself back on the forest.

"Can we go in", she asked, obviously without meaning it, because she was already well behind the line of trees.

Howard sighed. "Everything A-okay, sir."

Then he jogged after her.

----------------------------------------

PART 3

After googling "food that goes with whiskey" and fixing up seven portions of pork ribs (which were woefully inadequate, because he really didn't have the time to prepare them, and after barely thirty minutes in the oven, they just weren't how he'd have liked them), five of which were eaten directly at dinner (one for Cressinda, Agnes and himself, each, and two for Sid) and the other two as backup for when the two boozers would get their nightly snack attack, after closing up the store (and actually dusting off), Aaron went for his daily evening stroll. Today he'd only gotten out at nine o clock and some (the two boozers had already burned three bottles of whiskey, for goodness sake), but the sun was still on the horizon painting the old limestone building and the rest of the shopping street in brilliant golden and amber colors. Mr. Sanders, the owner of the bookstore (modern books in opposite to Cressinda's antiquaries), was just down pulling the shutters and locking them up, so Aaron waited politely, and, when Mr. Sanders turned, waved amicably.

"Good evening, Aaron. Tough day", the thirty-something year old man asked, handsome and smiling.

"Only the heat, Mr. Sanders", Aaron replied, smiling. "How was your day?"

"Slow, in fact, but pleasant. My airconditioning took care of that", he said and grinned mischievously.

"I'm envious", Aaron said wryly.

"Always so polite. The world could use more kids like you." Mr. Sanders laughed. "Good night, then, Aaron."

"Good night, Mr. Sanders." I wasn't always polite, though. Tyrannical witches work wonders, I guess. But, Aaron could not deny that Cressinda had given him more of a home, than he'd ever had before, and, he tought, a warmer one even, than many other's might ever have had.

"Hurry up", Sid complained. He'd dashed ahead already, far too impatient for polite chats, and waited at the road crossing ahead. Aaron jogged to catch up, then turned the corner.

As always he walked aimlessly around this part of the city - many shops, many appartment buildings, barely any buildings higher than five floors - soaking up the satisfaction of the workers finishing up or going home, the excitement of students going out to one party or another while summer vacation was still on, the simple joy of children playing in the streets and their disappointment when their parents called them in for the night. Soon, the sun set and the amber colors were swallowed up, replaced by soft shades of blues. Rarely he saw students from he knew from college - to be honest he barely knew any, he'd only started this year, and it was still awkward for him to interact with his fellow students - and when he did he merely waved friendly-like, accepted no invitations. Not so rarely, former customers called out to him, and he chatted with them briefly, always under the pressure of little Sid wanting to get going, to get moving, to not stand still.

The little rabbit-like thing, with a cat-like snout and fiery eyes and auburn fur was always jumping this way or that, hunting stray cats, flipping skirts of unsuspecting women (who had more than once blamed Aaron, thank you very much), and generally causing mischief were he could. To Sid's luck and Aaron's headache, the little critter was invisible to most humans and exploited that fact to its fullest. After running up the sheer side of a building to snag tailfeathers of no less than 30 pidgeons, Sid had finally let off some steam (he wasn't tired, of course, because he was Sid and Sids didn't get tired...) and settled on Aaron's shoulder, bursting with pride at his spoils of war. Aaron had never understood what the conditions for this particular kind of war was, but even so he scratched Sid behind his long floppy ears, watching happily how the little critter's stubby wings fluttered.

"I demand reparation", Sid said suddenly.

"From whom?"

"From you, obviously!"

"For what?!"

"For my succesful, glorious campaign, of course!"

"Of course. Which campaign exactly was that", Aaron asked dubiously.

"Making you sneeze!"

"Successful, yeah, but glorious?"

"Reparation!"

"Yes, yes, I get it. And what would your glorious self seem worthy of your grand victory", Aaron pronounced gravely.

Sid scrunched his furry forehead. "This takes deep consideration. Steak!"

"Yeah, no. I don't have that kinda money..."

"Kaviar!"

"You don't even know what that is", Aaron accused.

"Hm? What is it?"

"Fish eggs."

"Bluergh! Who eats that?!"

Aaron smiled. Attention diverted. Mission "Save Money" success. "Rich people, apparently."

"Why? Is it actually tasty?"

"Don't think so. It's one of those things that are delicious, because they're expensive, I think."

"That makes no sense", Sid said.

"Right?"

"I don't get humans."

"Humans don't get humans", Aaron said, feeling slightly philosphical, and then feeling absurdly embarassed for doing so. He shook his head and returned walking ignoring the frustrated hooting of dozens of pidgeons.

Suddenly a wave of melancholia hit him.

"Anyone there? Hello? Hello? Hello?! Heeellooooooo", a nasal, depressed voice called.

Aaron stopped dead in his tracks and looked around. There were still a good dozen children out, but that voice belonged to no child - it was a mourning old man's.

"Hey", the voice called. "Don't you want to play with me? I have many toys!"

"What's wrong, Aaron", Sid asked.

"Someone's calling", he said absently.

"Please. I'm so lonely. Won't you play with me?"

"Again? Why do those nutcases all go to you", Sid said annoyed, but Aaron waved him off with a frown.

Then, finally, he found what he was looking for. A couple feet in front of him stood an old vending machine. The kind with lots of little balls inside a big inverted fishbowl glas, where you needed to put coins into it, so that you'd get a toy. The glass was already scratched and hard grime had gathered at the edges of its panel. The slot for money had gotten slightly rusty. Here and there few edges had chipped and there was even a dark green stain of moss at its base. Apparently it didn't get refilled anymore, because there were only about a dozen toys left.

Aaron walked over with quick steps and squatted. "Hey, what's wrong", he called.

"Oh! Are you a customer!? Ah! But you're way too old! Go away!"

"Now that's really rude. I'm trying to help here", Aaron said wryly.

"I don't want your help! I want to play with the children!"

"So maybe I can help you play with them", Aaron asked patiently. He was inwardly annoyed, though, if only slightly.

"You can", the machine asked, suddenly hopeful.

"Maybe. So, tell me. What happened?"

"It's nothing that really happened. Children came at first to buy toys. And when they didn't get the one they wanted, they'd try again. And when they'd finally gotten the one they wanted, they'd be so happy!" Waves of nostalgia rolled over the underlying thick air of melancholy and loneliness, when the toy vending machine spoke of its memories. But the waves soon ebbed and thick boulders of sadness broke the surface, again painting the air in the machine's depression, and, Aaron knew, a certain harbinger of an impeding "But". "But I thought I could make them always happy, and so I gave them the toys they wanted from the start. And then they got bored!" Aaron felt the depression turn into frustration, then into bitterness. An underlying resentment for the children, the machine itself likely wasn't aware of. "So I made it really difficult to get the ones they wanted! But then they didn't want to play anymore!"

Aaron nodded. "I can't do much for you. But we can at least play a little. Wait right here. I'll be right back."

"So? What's it want", Sid asked dryly.

"It wants children to play with it again."

"Hmm... Hurry up then. This is boring."

"So you haven't seen that red-haired cat. The one sneaking glances at you", Aaron lied.

Sid perked up. "What?! Where?!" His head swivelled from side to side, his long ears slapping gently against Aaron's neck, the stubby wings bobbing rapidly in excitement

"I don't know... I only saw her once. She must be really skilled at stalking. Maybe better than you?" Aaron had to focus really hard not to grin.

"What?! Noone's better than me! Just you wait, kitty! Here I come!" With that Sid jumped off, his long legs pumping, sharp claws scratching the asphalt as he took off, racing around the street. Aaron finally allowed himself to grin, then looked for-

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

There! Aaron jogged over to the ice cream van, bought an obligatory scoop of ice cream, which he paid for with a ten dollar bill and asked for the change to be handed out in fifty cent coins. The van's owner was slightly annoyed, but complied. Then Aaron dropped his waffle of ice onto the ground (where it "mysteriously" vanished in a blur of auburn fur) and went back to the vending machine.

"Hey. I'm back."

"Ok", it said. "And now?"

"Now I'm gonna buy a toy."

"I don't want some old geezer to buy a toy from me!"

"Too bad", Aaron sang and put a coin in.

"NO! THAT'S ABUSE! THAT'S HARRASSMENT! HEELP! SOMEOOONE, HELP MEEEE!!"

"Here. I. Go!" Aaron turned the dial and a little ball popped out. He twisted it open and looked at its content. He smiled. "Perfect."

"HOW COULD YOU!!"

"Oh, pipe down, will you? Just give me a minute", Aaron said and winked. He took the little ball, with its swirly yellow and purple and pink colours, out of the sphere and threw it on the ground. It bounced back up, rushing past his head and higher still and when it dropped back down he caught with ease, giggling. He slowly walked over to the group of playing children, soaking up their nigh-hysterical joy, their innocent excitement, that incredible gift to feel giddy for pretty much anything. He dropped the ball a few more times, until one of the kids noticed.

Aaron winked at the boy, grinning.

"A superball!" At once the other children looked over to Aaron, now, that their friend was curious, nosey as well.

"Yup! Got it from the vending machine", Aaron answered and nodded down the street. The kid's face darkened, as did the other's.

"That one's bad luck. It only gives the bad things", the boy muttered, and the others agreed.

"Really? But if only bad ones came out, only the good can be left, right? Wanna check?" Aaron pulled out the fifty cent coins and grinned at the kids. They seemed dubious at first, but in the end curiosity won, and they nodded.

As one, they went over to the vending machine, a knot of kids swirling about Aaron's legs.

When the toy vending machine saw the kids it started calling, excited. "Oh yes! Oh yes! Come here! I'll give you the nice ones! I don't have many left, but I'll give you the best I ever had!"

Fifteen minutes later, each kid had a toy in its tiny hands: superballs (that jumped with ridiculous vigor, yet were so easy to catch one could do it with their eyes closed), pretty plastic rings (that looked deceivingly real) with huge rubies (that looked also real), little cars (that seemed to keep going forever) and little dolls (which seemed about to come alive).

The old vending machine kept laughing as the children shouted gleefully about their new toys, discovering with every moment once again how great they were.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou", the machine shouted suddenly.

Aaron turned with a smile. It was impossible for him not to be swept up in the euphoria surrounding him. "My pleasure." Then he saw the empty bowl. The implication, a fact that had been nagging at the back of his mind since the very beginning, the one that he'd chosen to ignore, became clear to him. This machine would never again give away its toys. It would be here, forever empty, always alone, until someone decided to send it to the junkyard.

The vending machine seemed to notice Aaron's tilting mood. "No worries. I'm done. I've done my duty. I've made children happy. I've sold all my toys. I've done my share. With your help. Thank you, Aaron Wilson."

Aaron was shocked. He hadn't mentioned his name, and even Sid hadn't called him by his last name. The only possibility...

"Goodbye. You're welcome."

A white halo grew around the machine, incredibly soft, but it emitted such a strong ray of contentment, like a sun all on its own. The nimbus of light burst into pinpricks of white iridescence, which rose on swirling winds upwards and then disappeared in the sky. Aaron had seen this happen before, but only twice.

"Look at that. It returned to Mother", Sid said beside him. Aaron hadn't noticed him approach - he'd been too occupied with the happenings. Aaron nodded. Tears threatening to burst from his eyes. "One good deed a day, is it?"

"Pure, dumb luck, actually", Aaron said, stunned.

"Well, Mother will be grateful either way. That aside", Sid added, his voice suddenly serious. "Red cat, huh? Are you trying to piss me off?"

"Huh?" Aaron was confused. Then his mind calmed, and he regained his wits and remembered. He grinned mischievously. "Revenge has been taken!"

"That's it! This means war! Just you wait!"

"Bring it, Sid!"

"Mister, who are you talking to", one of the kids, a girl, asked.

Aaron had totally forgotten about his surroundings. He thought of how ridiculous - no, how crazy he must have looked, first talking to a machine, then staring at the sky, overwhelmed, and then spouting challenges at a spot just in front of his feet.

"Erm...", he "said". Aaron scratched his head, then noticed strong suspiscions and slight aggression in his surroundings. Confused he looked around, then noticed several adults glaring at him. A woman was pointing at him and talking with two police officers.

When he'd finally figured out, that the adults were the parents, and that "a suspicious young man was playing with their children and pulling them together, so they'd better call the cops", the police men had already gotten close. One of them said, "Can we talk to you for a moment? At the police car, if possible."

Aaron hung his head in defeat. "Of course, Officer."

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PART 4

Howard noticed far too late.

They walked through the park and although it wasn't terribly big, only the third of a mile wide, and twice as long, sight was terrible. The forest canopy was thick, and scrubs higher than a man where everywhere. The only easy way to walk were the paths of the forest and here visbility sucked, because if they didn't twist left and right, they curved, so they only saw the lake when they practically stumbled into it. Well, not they. Only Howard.

He'd been grumbling about how it was just a really bad idea to go to the nymphs without any backup, and so had heard Detective Linsner's repetitive calls.

"Bruckner!"

"Huh?" He turned toward the detective at his side, but she wasn't there anymore, she stood a couple feet behind him, at the beginning of the sand banks. Huh? Suddenly he noticed sand beneath his feet, and not looking where he went he hit a log of wood and stumbled and-

The splash must have been loud, and the view of him flipping forward into the water must have been spectatcular, because after he'd gotten out and pushed his longish darkbrown hair out of his face and squeezed as much water as possible out of his suit, Detective Stick-Up-Her-Ass herself was still fucking giggling like a schoolgirl!

"At least you could cool down, eh", she said, barely suppressing another fit of giggles.

"Yeah. At least that", he said darkly.

Shaking her head once, her usual no-nonsense, professional expression returned, and she said, "So? Where are the suspects?"

Howard gestured for her to wait a moment, then opened his Third Eye. No eye in the physical sense, it was more of an omnidirectional awareness of supernatural energy (some called it mana, others nether, again somenone else chi... the names were endless, and there were minute differences in the texture of the stuff, but its base component was always the same). At first it was just a distinct impression that there was something, the feeling one got if someone else stood behind you. But through training and visualization techniques and meditation and more training, a wizard could perceive mana as colorful ribbons in their sight. Which was mildly distracting at first, because the keener one's senses got, the more he realized, that mana was actually everywhere, surrounding, suffusing, penetrating every point in space - occupied by mass or not (curiously enough, it was possible to lower mana concentration in the air. Highly technological facilities were one example, sites, where incredibly powerful magic had been casted, another). But everything that existed interacted with mana, in distinct ways, sometimes more, sometimes less, but the usual rule of thumb said: "Things from the Other Side there? Mana does weird shit."

And that was the challenge for a wizard to truly master the Third Eye, to filter the usual mana from the (attention: technical term) "Weird Shit". (The actual term is "Activity".) A true Master of the Third Eye was actually capable of reading Activity, i.e. seeing what exactly a spell does, or which creature is there before him, or, even, identifying singular personae. Howard was good with the Third Eye (it was, in fact, his best application of magic, because it didn't need his lacking talent, "only" hard work), but he hadn't become a Master of it. Yet (or so he hoped).

But despite all his skill with the Third Eye, he still mistrusted what he saw, when he opened them at the lake in First Stone Park.

He turned it off, rubbed his eyes, shook his head and turned it on again.

Nope, still the same result: Nothing. Utterly nothing.

Something prickled at the back of his neck, and his heart started pounding blood through his veins at a deafening rate.

He tuned his filters so that even undisturbed mana should enter his sight.

Still nothing.

His breathing became shallow.

He knew he was sweating, even if he couldn't tell by the lakewater still clinging to him.

He raised his Eye's sensitivity. Nothing. Raised it still.

There!

Minute amounts of mana, like single droplets from a mist, rather than the usual puddle of background noise.

Something had quite literally erased the mana in the forest. Along with Nature's Envoys, apparently. Howard wasn't sure if he actually hadn't ever heard of such a thing, but at the moment, with fear nipping at his heels and panic strumming the walls of his belly, he could certainly think of none.

He turned around, surprising the detective, and said, "Run. Run!"

And with that it was done.

Panic broke out, the ancient instinct distinctly choosing flight instead of fight and he ran.

Moments later he broke through the dense forest and its unnaturally sharp edge, the dim sky welcoming him back, and harsh, clinical street lamps accusing him of cowardice. "Linsner!" He turned around in panic, not seeing or hearing her...

He forced himself to calm down. Meditation exercises to calm his breath and heart rate (that he had used far too much since he'd been employed by the WFPD) started to work, and thoughts other than "dangerous", "get the hell out" and "what the flying fuck?" came to him, he rationalized. Linsner had had a late start. And she would have taken a bit more care than running cross-country through the dense forest (he acknowledged grudgingly that it wouldn't have caused the bloody scratches in his face and the tears in his suit, had he done the same, but oh, well) and was likely walking the normal paths, to the car.

Embarassed, and still strung up by fear he walked to the car.

Of course, Detective Linsner wasn't there, yet. She would be taking a far longer way.

And yet, half an hour later, Detective Ann Linsner still hadn't shown up.

----------------------------------------

PART 5

"Sorry, for the trouble, kiddo", the officer said.

"No, no, I can totally understand, and I was acting weird, too, and no harm was done, so, no problem?"

"Ha! Haven't had an understanding kid like you in ages! Good bye, kiddo", the officer said, and entered his car.

"Good bye, Officer", Aaron said and waved after the departing car. He looked around and saw - to noone's surprise - that all the kids had left, likely gone inside, it was past ten after all, and from their parents only three remained staring at him, distrusting. Scratching his head and only managing a poor excuse for his clerk's smile, he nodded to them and left swiftly. It wasn't full dark, yet, but the street lights had turned on, and the sky was well away from a light marine, already a deep blue, except for the horizon, where the sun had set.

"That took way too long", Sid said, yawning.

"I know. Getting interrogated is so exhausting."

"You got interrogated all the time, though."

"Not all the time. Only when they were on my trace. And it was exhausting every time."

"Don't you get used to it", Sid asked, curious.

"To the police's psychological tricks? Sure. To every part of their uniform ranting at me? No fucking way." Aaron grimaced at the memory of twenty different voices telling him to confess, that it was really in his best interest to just come clear, how it was clearly better to rat out who he was working for and what he was doing, how they could only help him if he cooperated etc. etc. Actually keeping track of which of the barrage of sentences had come from the officer was a pain in the neck. It made him only happier to have met Cressinda and to be rid of Lando and his cronies. Of course Reno hadn't been so lucky-

"You're going dark places, Aaron", Sid said forcefully.

"You're right. Sorry." Aaron forced himself out of past regrets, back into the here and now, stared at the first few visible stars and saw a man jumping from roof to roof, carrying a tiny woman in a suit.

"Sid", Aaron said.

"Yup?"

"That was a vampire, right?"

"Yup."

"And the woman was struggling?"

"Yup."

Aaron sighed. "Let's go."

"I'm getting steak for this", Sid said.

----------------------------------------

PART 6

Deciding that he'd waited enough as it is, Howard Bruckner forced himself back into the forest, his Third Eye scanning everywhere. Now that he looked he saw the trails he and the Detective had left. Threads of mana they had brought with them into the forest, floating lazily in the too empty air. By now full darkness had hit the forest, so Howard could only navigate by those trails.

Usually a (decently capable) wizard could see in the dark by using the Third Eye to look at the surrounding mana, to at least get a rough sense for walls and corners. That was, of course, impossible when all the mana was simply gone.

Howard kept his mind occupied, going through a veritable lexicon inside his mind, trying to come up just what had erased the mana.

But nothing helped.

He'd run, leaving the Detective (annoying though she was) alone in the forest with whatever. Whenever he didn't actively think about something he threw curses at himself, "pussy" and "limpdick" were far from the worst, "coward" was outright nice.

And even with that self-deprecation, it didn't vanish.

That overwhelming fear, that was haunting him at every step, every noise, every rustle of leaves, which was obviously a predator stalking him and he clearly had to flee-

No! Howard was a coward, but he had to do this. He was a third-rate wizard, but he had to do this, find the Detective and get her back, or - and of this he was certain - he'd throw himself into a hellish spiral of depression and self deprecation and hair-raising excuses, that would end his life as a wizard, and, likely, as a human, too.

The only way to avoid a fate worse than death, was finding Detective Ann Linsner, and he hated, hated himself that he had to use such an egotistical reason to go to her help. "Save her to save yourself", was the only diversion the hound known as fear would accept.

Shivering at the sudden cold, that fear had brought him, twitching at every noise and crying in horror at every branch that carressed his cheek, he finally found what he was looking for. Detective Linsner's trail. Diminutive, weak, and surprisingly calm for a human reaction it had actually followed right after his own frenzied escape from the woods.

She'd heeded him once, apparently. Howard coughed a laugh that held no joy.

Following her trail, he saw where it ended.

A blood-red stream of mana dashing perpendicular to their path of escape, scooping slightly down from above, crashing into the Detective's trail, effectively wiping it out.

Howard had seen this blood-red mana Activity before. Plenty of times. Because there were plenty vampires in Windfall. And one of them had Detective Linsner.

Howling in frustration, Howard pumped his legs, racing after the vampire's trail.

Somehow ignoring the forest that scratched, and ripped, and tore at him he broke the edge for the second time, tonight, and watched as the trail was washed away by the usual sea of mana. Still, slight tendrils remained, and he saw the general direction they took.

Flipping through his mental register for vampires, he filtered for the murderous ones first, then the ones daring enough to kill cops, then the ones stupid enough to not kill a wizard, who witnessed their crime. Well, Howard was not exactly a witness, but Ann Linsner had been notorious enough, to make herself a name on the Other Side. A name for being incredibly stupid, but at least it got word out that Howard Bruckner was partnered up with her. Howard Bruckner, a no-name third-rate wizard, who was by all accounts of no importance, but still a full-fletched wizard, recognized by a council of wizards and therefore a valid witness before any wizard council.

It was a desperate reasoning, but Howard was grasping straws, and it narrowed the list to only a handful of vampires, and only one had his territory in the direction the trail pointed.

Crushing all doubts with the force only the desperate could muster, Howard released his Third Eye - right now it would only exhaust him more - sprinted to the Detective's car, hotwired it for a futile, eternal thirty seconds, then, when the engine had finally started, he floored the accelerator and tore down the streets.

He could make it to the vampire's known habitat in just over ten minutes, if he kept the speed limit.

He didn't.

He tore down the streets with some fifty miles per hour, and at one curve he almost forgot to decelerate. He only very barely made it, with luck, because the only pedestrian on the sidewalk - a kid barely twenty if even that old, staring at the sky and running somewhere - jumped spryly out of the way.

Howard only saw him for an instant, an expression of disbelief and outrage on his face, but Howard had no time to deal with it.

Then something heavy thumped on the car.

Howard would have liked to react, but he was driving so far he couldn't do anything, but calm his racing hard.

Suddenly someone slid through the open window on the passanger's side and took a seat.

"WHAT THE FUCK", Howard shouted, but kept his eyes on the street. Only after he'd crossed another crossing did he look to the side-

To see the youth he'd almost run over sitting beside him, smiling wryly.

"Yeah, he's going really fast", the kid said to his lap. Then he turned to Howard. "Hi, I'm Aaron. I thought you could use some back up?"

"Uh. What?" Between talking to the kid and trying to stay in his lane Howard had completely lost his sense of direction.

"Erm... We just passed them, you know", Aaron said, his face worried.

"Huh? Oh, fuck!" Howard slammed the breaks, the car only just staying stable, then coming to a stuttering stop. As the kid had said, he'd passed the abandoned construction site, where the vampire was said to be housing. Howard had no idea why the kid knew, but a short check with his Third Eye proofed that he was no bloodsucker.

The kid's face showed true consternation. "Oh! That was dangerous! If Sid hadn't hid, you might've gotten blinded", he said.

"Huh? Sid? Who's that?"

Suddenly Howard heard a faint whisper in the wind. It became louder, a true choir of child's voices singing ululating vowels, that kept getting louder and louder and deafening and Howard couldn't see anymore, and feel nothing and heard only that choir-

The sound vanished abruptly, and the kid was talking to a spot on the dashboard. He seemed angry, but Howard couldn't make sense of the kid's sentences. He was speaking and English and all, but... His mind just wasn't ready for human speech just yet.

Ten seconds later, Aaron turned to him and said, "We don't have the time now, sorry! We need to get going!" Howard shook his head and blinked his eyes, but the kid had to repeat three more times before he got what he was saying.

Oh, right. Linsner. "Fuck!"

Howard slammed the door open, and rolled gracelessly onto the street. The kid helped him up, and Howard could clearly see the question forming in his mind: Shouldn't you stay behind? But the kid's soft face became hard, true steel, like he had seen only from seasoned warriors, the type that ate vampire's for breakfast. The kid turned Howard around and gave him a rough push between the shoulders. "Let's go!"

And Howard went.

----------------------------------------

PART 7

"He's useless", Sid said, but Aaron barely understood him, over the cacophony of voices coming from the wizard's clothes and tools.

"Thank you!" "Help the Detective!" "We're sorry!" "Please, help Howie!"

And on and on and on.

"He's useless", Sid said into his ear.

"He's not", Aaron mumbled back.

The wizard - Howie? - was running besides him down the street to the construction site.

"He'll die", Sid insisted.

"Maybe", he admitted.

"You're fine with that", Sid asked, surprised.

"No. But it's his decision, not mine", Aaron said.

"Who are you talking to", called Howie between huffs.

"Erm... Sid. A spirit? Kinda."

"I'm not a spirit!"

"You talk to spirits?"

"And ghosts, yeah."

"Aren't they the same", the wizard asked.

Oh, no, Aaron thought.

"SPIRITS ARE NOT GHOSTS", Sid screamed beside his ear. And the wizard's tools chimed right in: "NOW LOOK HERE, HOWIE, WE'VE BEEN VERY PATIENT WITH YOU, BUT THAT TOPS IT ALL!" "CALLING US SPIRITS, GHOSTS?!" "THE NERVE!" "OUTRAGEOUS!" "SUCH AUDACITY!"

And on and on and on and on.

Even after reaching the building they kept shouting and screaming and blaming his parents for their sightless upbringing of such a careless - nay, racist offspring. Aaron blended them out (or at least tried to) and bend down to the lock of the heavy steel door.

"Fuck", the wizard cursed beside him. "How are we gonna get inside there? Didn't think the sonuvabitch would seal the place up tighter than, fucking Alcatraz."

"Howie, language!"

"The guy speaks like a sailor", Sid complained. "A racist sailor."

"Sailor's are worse", Aaron mumbled absently. He pulled out his keys, to Cressinda's store and whispered, "Hey, little one, I'm sorry, but I really need to get in. I know the keys don't fit, but I really, really need to get in."

"What are you doing? Fuck! We gotta hurry! Linsner's... Fuck!"

"So annoying... I'm doubling the steaks Aaron."

"Language, Howie!"

Oh, for the love of god, be quiet, please!

"Hey, little one. Wakey, wakey. Can you let me in", Aaron tried again.

"Dammit, kiddo! What are you doing?"

"Yeah!" "Right!" "Help the detective" "Help Howie!" ...

"He's helping, you bloke. Aaron, that guy must have hit his head, right?"

"Please, little one, I'm begging you here", Aaron whispered desperately.

"Who's there", the tiny door lock said. Finally!

"Hey, could you let me in, please? My key doesn't quite fit. But someone in there needs my help. Can you let met pass?"

"But I'm not supposed to let anyone, but my master pass", the door lock answered. Of course. The only conscientious lock I ever meet, and I meet it today. Usually locks get quite grumpy after not seeing any oil for years and not once getting thanked for its efforts. They did their tasks, and did them well - only let the guy with the key open you, easy enough - but people had gotten so used to them, they barely registered after a week. So if a burglar came past, asking them to let him play a trick on their owners they played along. But a vampire that entered through roofs likely had not much use for locks didn't use it much. And that gave it minority complexes, apparently.

And Aaron really didn't feel like exploiting that.

"Ok. Sorry for waking you."

"Bye."

"Bye."

"What are you doing", the wizard moaned. He was close to breaking, Aaron realized.

"Ah, sorry. I tried to do this gently, but looks like we need brute force. Sid, can you give us a lift?"

"Hehe, I thought you'd never ask", the little furry creature answered, gleefully.

"Seriously, who is Sid", the wizard said. Nearly all of his clothes and trinkets echoed him.

Aaron gestured him to wait, and looked at Sid. "Partner? Please?"

The little critter nodded. Then grew.

His legs lengthened and his little torso expanded, his front paws growing fingers, adorned with menacing black claws, the stubby little wings on his back grew and grew even bigger, and his teeth lengthened to the size of fingers.

Not five seconds later Sid - still crouching - had become some easy eight feet at the shoulders. Muscles rippled underneath the thick, now true-golden fur and the eyes the size of fists glowed a fiery azure. His head, now comparable to a working desk swivelled, left and right, slapping the huge ears, almost as long as Aaron was tall, and then he tested his wings, slim appendages with a span of over twenty feet.

The resulting wind gently brushed the wizard's face.

"Huh? That wind is Sid?"

"Er... Not exactly. Sid, we need to hurry."

"No problemo. We'll be there in a jiffy!"

The huge pranks grabbed Aaron and Howie respectively, then Sid flexed his legs and jumped.

A rush of air and a sunken stomach later, Sid slammed through the window on the highest floor. Of course it was far too small for him to pass through unhindered. Fortunately Sid was one heavy badass and just tore down the surrounding wall.

Aaron took the momentum to roll forward and come back up standing, scanning the room, spotting a steel bar, picking it up, then found the detective by noise - her handgun, police badge and handcuffs were shouting for surrender - and saw the vampire standing before her, looking at him, stunned.

"What the hell", the vampire said.

Beside Aaron, the wizard had stopped rolling and puked.

Grand entrance... not.

----------------------------------------

PART 8

Dear Diary,

Today I was grabbed by a huge, invisible "Sid" got lifted up six stories, crashed through a concrete, was bowled into a room with a very likely very deadly vampire and puked.

It was a distinctively unpleasant experience.

All in all not the worst day in Howard's career as police consultant, but a close runner-up.

"Oh god, the oysters!" Howard hurled again, retching until he was empty.

Pro: The vampire really didn't expect that.

Con: It really didn't matter, because he couldn't do shit.

"Erm... Are you okay", the kid asked.

"Do I look okay?"

"Pussy." That wasn't the kid. It came from behind him. Howard swung his head, and barely saw the blood-red eyes glowing in the dark shape against the street light coming in through the whole in the wall, before the vampire threw himself at him. "Fucking shit!" He threw his arms over his face and-

A painful yelp sounded out and blessedly it wasn't his own. Panicked, he opened his eyes and saw the vampire-

"The hell", Howard muttered. It was getting thrown about repeatedly, here and there deep bloody trenches tearing itself into his body, sealing back up again only slowly.

"Sid, are you fine", the kid called. "Ok." He turned to Howard. "Let's go help your friend."

"That's Sid?"

"Yup, he's pretty awesome."

Howard pushed himself up - he decided to ignore the slimey puddle where he put his hands - then hurried over to Detective Linsner. "Um. Hi." So, now what? Things have been happening at a pace, that Howard just really didn't know what to do anymore.

"Free me, Bruckner", the detective snarled, ever her lovable self.

"Oh. Yeah. Good idea."

Two awkward minutes later, Howard was about to die of shame, when one of his amulets started to ring. It had been given to him by the Council of the Graceful Lake and- what did it do again?

Oh, right! "Oh, fuck!"

Howard jerked upright, looked panicky around the dark floor, and-

"Erm... Kiddo? Can your Sid deal with a True Blood?"

The kid turned to look at him - he'd been staying in the background, since they'd come to Linsner; considerate lad. "Huh? Oh. Ah, that's good."

What?!

"We can talk with him."

What?!

"You speak nonsense human. Call back your p-"

"Sid, it's okay. Come here", Aaron called, then more quiet to the dark shape amid the shadows, "Don't call him pet, he gets cranky about that."

Instantly the vampire-throwing stopped.

"You have sense human. But we can't talk. You entered one of mine's territory and attacked him in malicious will. For that you die."

Howard drew himself up. "Bullshit! Your fuckup of a clansmen abducted a cop!" Oh, yeah, good idea, Howard, piss off the Badass-Vampire-Overlord. "Sir", he added.

"She came of her free will", another raspy voice said. Must have been the busted vampire. That was why it was so hard to nail vampire's down. They'd just hypnotize there victims and whoops there'd be no crime.

"I did not", Detective Linsner shouted angrily. Apparently the vampire hadn't gotten to that part, yet.

"Yeah! He abducted her", Howard agreed.

"Your witnesses", the ancestor asked.

Howard swallowed. He hadn't actually seen it happening. And in a situation where it was a victim's word against the offender's the ancestor would always believe his vassal. Vampire laws, urgh. Still. As things stood they were badly fucked-

"I saw him", the kid suddenly said. "She was thrashing about and he just dragged her with him."

"You saw him", the True Blood asked. Howard could practically hear that raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. He was jumping over me, from roof to roof."

"And you recognized them. Both. In detail. With her 'thrashing'."

"Yeah."

"Let me test that", the Ancestor said. Without warning something clanged loudly behind Howard. He turned and saw the metal pipe, the kid had picked up, had been impaled by a nightblack dagger. "Huh. Impressive. But I doubt your credibility."

Oh. Come. On. That was why Howard hated vampire "trials". No matter how badly a law had been violated, vampire's just cheated themselves out of it. Vampire law. Urgh.

"Ah, I thought you'd say that. My employer would vouch for me, I think. She's out drinking, though, so you might not want to ask her directly about this." He pulled something from his pants' pocket.

"A business card", Howard asked.

"Yup." Aaron threw the card towards the True Blood.

"I don't care who your employer is- What?! Is this true?!"

"Sure, it is. Noone is so stupid as to abuse her name, right?"

The ancestor was silent. The. Fuck?

"I understand. This matter is solved. Jacob, you're guilty. You broke the treaty. By law you die."

The raspy voice seemed about to say something, but the only thing that came out was a wet gurgle.

"We are done here. I take my leave, humans."

"Goodbye, True Blood Moitessiere", the kiddo said.

"... Your name, human."

"Aaron Wilson, sir."

"Goodbye, Aaron Wilson."

And with that he left.

The kid scratched his head, as he turned towards Howard and the detective. "Erm... so, my part's done, I think. So... Bye!"

And like that he jumped out of the whole, where only minutes before there had been a window.

"Bruckner?"

"Yeah?"

"What the hell just happened?"

"No idea, Detective. But welcome to my world."