I entered the agreed upon meeting place, which was a small copse of trees you could fit a small one room cabin in if you really squeezed it, meeting several rifles pointed at me, held by angry, desperate looking people. I dropped my enchanted sticks and threw my hands and tentacles into the air.

“Uuuhhhh—“ I began eloquently, trying to think of something to say that would result in me not getting shot and coming up empty.

A familiar voice shouted in French and Ida emerged from behind the line of rifles, pushing them down and even slapping one individual who refused to lower his gun. “He’s the good warlock!” Ida said vehemently, switching to English. “Did I not tell you? Tentacles and black arms?!”

She switched back into French and I could follow most of it because she was delivering the most foul-mouthed dressing down I have heard in any language. The several men and women—I counted thirteen—had the good grace to look abashed as Ida chastised them. I slowly lowered my hands and—when it became apparently I wasn’t going to be shot—picked up my sticks.

I took a moment to study their equipment. Only one had a modern gun, a bullpup I wasn’t familiar with. The rest had a mix of semi-automatic rifles dating from the Korean war from ancient bolt action rifles that looked like they saw action in the trenches of World War One. Their clothing was loose and simple. Every one of them was very attractive. I got the feeling asking them what they did on the island would be a very awkward conversation.

Ida approached just as I was finishing up and helped me gather the last few. “Sorry, Colm,” she said as she stacked the last sticks on top of my pile. “They are all very nervous.”

I nodded, following her deeper into the little camp. I felt the eyes of the...servants? Islanders? Slaves? Follow us as we walked to a little station Ida had set up for me, comprising a stool and a little camp table about the size of a TV dinner. I dropped my pile next to the table and started to gather them up in bundles of five and tying them together.

“How did it go?” Ida asked, squatting down next to me to help. “I assume from all this that it wasn’t as easy as you thought.”

I shook my head. “Sadly, no,” I scratched my beard thoroughly with the backs of my knuckles. The main downside of wearing the LotOS (aside from the Lovecraftian skin cancer) is I ran a good risk of accidentally eviscerating myself if my asshole got a little itchy and I forgot about the claws. “The wards are beginning to resonate, but not at the frequency we need for them to reach critical mass. So,” I waggled a stick.

“More sticks,” Ida finished.

“Just so,” I said. “It’ll make the timing weird. You, Alice and I should be fine with our mental amulets, but anyone not in a protected circle is going to have a very bad night.”

As I said the last I glanced up through the trees, to the moon. I didn’t know enough about the cycles of the moon to tell the time this time of year (I kept a moon chart for that kinda shit in my house), but I estimated it was about ten.

“We’ll go over the plan again,” Ida said.

I gave her a despairing look, but she just leveled her much more practiced stare at me. “Fine,” I said with a sigh.

“Twenty minutes before midnight, you start making your way to town to meet up with the Wild Bunch over there,” I jerked my thumb behind me at the crew who had nearly killed me moments ago. “Planting my special sticks along the way. They will be waiting in one of the prepared circles. When the islands ward scheme breaks—signaled by a flaring of the circle—they will move into town and subdue the guards and grab as many prisoners and able bodied people who want the fuck off this island and head for the bay. You will arrive and locate the crew of the cruise ship, so that they can get that thing going and get the free islanders and prisoners the fuck outta dodge.

“Meanwhile Alice and I will be heading for the sacrifice site, planting our own little magic sticks along the way. Hopefully these plus the ones we set earlier will cause the ward scheme to go nova. We’ll use it as cover to kill the guards and any warlocks present and make our way towards the bay with the sacrifices in tow.

“Then we meet up with you, who will be waiting with our getaway vehicle, and we fucking bug out.”

Ida had been nodding along. “What if the wards don’t go down?”

“They will,” I said, my brow lowering.

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“Mhm,” Ida said mollifyingly. “But what if they don’t?”

I sighed and ran my hands through my hair, which was now an oily, stringy mess that was constantly getting in my eyes. “Then we play it by ear,” I said honestly. “I think the best option at that point is for me to make a bunch of noise at the ziggurat, bloody their noses and lead them on a merry chase while you and Alice get as many people out as you can.”

Ida began to protest but I rode her over. “I’m not letting them kill a bunch of people, Ida,” I said. “If the time comes and the wards don’t go down, I’m acting.”

She looked into my eyes for a long time before blinking slowly, then nodding. “Fine,” she said, finishing up another bundle. “Let’s hope your sticks do the trick.”

I laughed slightly. She looked up, frowning at me.

“My stick always performs,” I said jokingly, waggling my eyebrows. She threw a stick at me, bouncing off my chest. She pretended to be disgusted with me, but I saw her try to hide a rare smile.

* * *

An hour later Alice returned, looking sweaty and out of breath but with a glint of satisfaction in her eye. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she just got laid. That is, until I looked at her arms. Her hands were covered in dirt and grime, and her forearms had several shallow cuts on them. I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Was this ‘surprise’ a dozen badgers?” I asked. “Oh!” I said suddenly, stuffing my voice with enthusiasm. “Please tell me you have magical attack badgers!”

Alice rolled her eyes and crossed over to where we had stashed our supply bag, now much diminished since we were wearing most of our supplies. Alice took out a bottle of water and cleaned some of the grime off her gloves, then drained the rest of it.

Our little militia had left a few minutes ago to the protection circle I had prepped. It was hidden between two of what I was beginning to call “vegetation blisters,” out of the way of any paths leading from the village but close enough to strike from. Hopefully none of them would be dumb enough to leave it over the next hour while the three of us planted the rest of our sticks.

Alice came over and took her bundles from the pile. They were gathered together with a bit of rope on both ends, each with a slip knot so that it could be tightened a bit after removing a stick. The sticks were vibrating slightly, already working against the ward scheme of the island.

She slung her bundle over her shoulder and Ida and I did the same.

“Be careful,” Ida said, looking us with determination.

I snorted. “’Careful’ isn’t what I’d call rushing a bunch of magical pirates.”

She punched his arm. “You know what I mean.”

Alice caught the smaller woman in a hug, crushing her head to her chest. Ida froze for a moment before returning the hug. “Be safe,” Alice murmured into Ida’s hair.

“You too,” Ida said, pulling back and meeting her eyes. “Give them hell, and come back safe.”

Ida turned to me, and suddenly the air was awkward between us. I’m not a touchy-feely guy, but I wanted to do more than awkwardly wave or give her a thumbs up. Ida saved me by stepping forward and holding out her hands, which I took. She looked up at me, holding my hands tightly.

“Same goes for you,” she said. “You’re not allowed to be a fuck up tonight. Tonight…” She squinted, searching for the right words. She suddenly squeezed my hands.

“Tonight, you are the monster. Tonight, be feared.”

I convulsively inhaled, swelling at the words. They stirred something within me. Some—some longing I’ve had since I was a kid, since the first time I hid in the bathroom from my angry father. Some desire to be the cause of fear, rather than the victim of it.

And of course, me being me, I had to ruin the mood.

“You sure know what to say to get a girl in the mood,” I said, exhaling sharply.

Ida barked out a laugh and dropped my hands. I think it was the first time I’ve heard her laugh at all. That can’t be. Can it? I mean, I’m a funny fucker. I’ve had to have made her laugh before now.

Ida walked to where her AK was leaning against a tree, gave it a final once-over before slinging the strap over her head and shoulder. She gave us a final wave before adjusting her gun and stick bundle and disappearing through the trees.

“You are such a fucking dork,” Alice said once she was gone.

I shrugged, grabbing my own stick bundle. “My dorkiness charmed you, didn’t it?” My voice caught at the end of the sentence, suddenly remembering the false pretenses we were interacting under at the time.

She noticed, giving me a measured look. “Honestly? It kind of did,” she said. “The reason I called Axtrixxinizinia the day you found us was because I was thinking you were too cool to be a murderous warlock.”

I met her gaze for a bit, and felt some of the simmering… I don’t know what emotion to call it. Whatever was left over from that day I went hunting for the strange magical aura, whatever grudge or anger I was holding onto… just faded. Not entirely. I doubt there could be anything between Alice and I, much to my regret. I’ve got too much baggage in whatever part of my mind that handles trust. But now, now when I thought about what happened, there wasn’t that sting of bitterness. Just a slight melancholy over what might have been.

I mean, look at her. She’s a fuckin’ smoke show. Stupid trust issues.

“For what it’s worth,” I said. “You’re pretty fucking cool, too.”

She flashed me a big grin, adjusting her bundle and gestured toward the direction of the ziggurat. “Shall we?”

I hefted my own bundle and did my version of a courtly bow. “After you, my lady.”

Alice sketched a curtsy with a half smile and led the way out of the trees.