Side Stories Vol2

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Welcome to the Second Sight side stories Vol 2. Thank you so much for your contribition to Patreon! You have no idea how much I appreciate it. This will hopefully be a continually building series of side stories, mostly focused on the love interests but there will also be a few with Carter. For now, we'll consider everything here tentatively canon. I'll try to make it clear if we ever deviate from that. [[Next|MCGender]]

The Main Character is a: <<link [[Female|MCName]]>>[\ <<set $gender to "woman">> <<set $heshe to "she">> <<set $himher to "her">> <<set $hishers to "hers">> <<set $upperhisher to "Her">> <<set $hisher to "her">> <<set $upperhishers to "Hers">> <<set $upperheshe to "She">> <<set $boygirl to "girl">> <<set $upperboygirl to "Girl">> <<set $hisherself to "herself">> <<set $genderpos to "woman's">> <<set $prettyhand to "pretty">> <<set $self to "herself">> ]<</link>> <<link [[Male|MCName]]>>[\ <<set $gender to "man">> <<set $heshe to "he">> <<set $himher to "him">> <<set $hishers to "his">> <<set $hisher to "his">> <<set $upperhishers to "His">> <<set $upperheshe to "He">> <<set $upperhisher to "His">> <<set $boygirl to "boy">> <<set $upperboygirl to "Boy">> <<set $hisherself to "himself">> <<set $genderpos to "man's">> <<set $prettyhand to "handsome">> <<set $self to "himself">> ] <</link>> <<link [[Non-binary|MCName]]>>[\ <<set $gender to "person">> <<set $heshe to "they">> <<set $himher to "them">> <<set $hisher to "their">> <<set $hishers to "their">> <<set $boygirl to "kid">> <<set $upperhishers to "Their">> <<set $upperhisher to "Their">> <<set $upperheshe to "They">> <<set $upperboygirl to "Kid">> <<set $genderpos to "person's">> <<set $prettyhand to "attractive">> <<set $self to "themself">> ] <</link>>

The Main Character's name is: <<textbox "$name" "Val">> [[Next|LI genders]]

R is: <<link [[A man...|zgen]]>>[\ <<set $rgender to "man">> <<set $rheshe to "he">> <<set $rhimher to "him">> <<set $rhishers to "his">> <<set $rhisher to "his">> <<set $rupperhishers to "His">> <<set $rupperheshe to "He">> <<set $rupperhisher to "His">> <<set $rhandpretty to "handsome">> <<set $rgenderpos to "man's">> <<set $rname to "Renard">> <<set $rnamepos to "Renard's">> <<set $rupperhesheis to "He's">> <<set $rhesheis to "he's">> <<set $rself to "himself">> ] <</link>> <<link [[A woman...|zgen]]>>[\ <<set $rgender to "woman">> <<set $rheshe to "she">> <<set $rhimher to "her">> <<set $rhishers to "hers">> <<set $rhisher to "her">> <<set $rupperhishers to "Her">> <<set $rupperheshe to "She">> <<set $rupperhisher to "Her">> <<set $rhandpretty to "pretty">> <<set $rgenderpos to "woman's">> <<set $rname to "Rowan">> <<set $rnamepos to "Rowan's">> <<set $rupperhesheis to "She's">> <<set $rhesheis to "she's">> <<set $self to "herself">> ] <</link>>

Z is: <<link [[A man...|kgender]]>>[\ <<set $zgender to "man">> <<set $zheshe to "he">> <<set $zhimher to "him">> <<set $zhishers to "his">> <<set $zhisher to "his">> <<set $zupperhishers to "His">> <<set $zupperheshe to "He">> <<set $zupperhisher to "His">> <<set $zhandpretty to "handsome">> <<set $zgenderpos to "man's">> <<set $zname to "Zander">> <<set $znamepos to "Zander's">> <<set $zupperhesheis to "He's">> <<set $zhesheis to "he's">> <<set $zself to "himself">> ] <</link>> <<link [[A woman...|kgender]]>>[\ <<set $zgender to "woman">> <<set $zheshe to "she">> <<set $zhimher to "her">> <<set $zhishers to "hers">> <<set $zhisher to "her">> <<set $zupperhishers to "Her">> <<set $zupperheshe to "She">> <<set $zupperhisher to "Her">> <<set $zhandpretty to "pretty">> <<set $zgenderpos to "woman's">> <<set $zname to "Zora">> <<set $znamepos to "Zora's">> <<set $zupperhesheis to "She's">> <<set $zhesheis to "she's">> <<set $zself to "herself">> ] <</link>>

The Kestrel is: <<link [[A man...|Begin]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "male">> <<set $kheshe to "he">> <<set $khimher to "him">> <<set $khishers to "his">> <<set $khisher to "his">> <<set $kupperhishers to "His">> <<set $kupperheshe to "He">> <<set $kupperhisher to "His">> <<set $khandpretty to "handsome">> <<set $kgenderpos to "male's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "He's">> <<set $khesheis to "he's">> <<set $kself to "himself">> <<set $kpretty to "handsome">> ] <</link>> <<link [[A woman...|Begin]]>>[\ <<set $kgender to "female">> <<set $kheshe to "she">> <<set $khimher to "her">> <<set $khishers to "hers">> <<set $khisher to "her">> <<set $kupperhishers to "Her">> <<set $kupperheshe to "She">> <<set $kupperhisher to "Her">> <<set $khandpretty to "pretty">> <<set $kgenderpos to "female's">> <<set $kupperhesheis to "She's">> <<set $khesheis to "she's">> <<set $kself to "herself">> <<set $kpretty to "beautiful">> ] <</link>>

R stories: [[An Anomaly]] [[Mama Jude]] [[Distance]] [[Practical Advice]] Z stories: [[Wanting]] [[The What Could Be]] The Kestrel stories: [[Comfort]] [[Thank You]] [[Empty]] Carter stories: [[Case File 001]] [[Birthday]] [[Genesis]] [[Legends]] [[Beginning]] [[Driving Lesson]] <span style="color:gold">^^New!^^</span> Looking ahead: [[Sneak Peek - The Fae Queen]]

$zname knew that it wasn’t a coincidence that $zheshe had been chosen to go to Herman County. The directors were rarely upfront about their motives and there was surely something unseen at work. $kupperheshe could make a few educated guesses, but none of them were optimistic. In the past, the amount of travel involved with $zhisher work with MAB wasn’t a problem. $zname didn’t feel any particular connection to anywhere or anything. $zupperhisher life was bereft of other commitments–of other people. $zupperhisher entire life–$zhisher whole being–was wrapped up in MAB and $zheshe had never thought of that as an impediment. [[Next|z41]]

But $zhisher commitments to MAB made $zhimher think of $name and $zhisher guts twisted. $zname had never given much thought to $zhisher solitary existence, mostly because there wasn’t much to consider. $zupperheshe owed MAB. After all, they’d saved $zhimher. If not for MAB, $zheshe would have known nothing but cruelty and the four walls of $zhisher prison. And for years $zheshe had been content with that. It was perhaps not the same thing as happiness, but it was more than $zheshe had ever known. It was more than $zheshe had ever thought to ask for. MAB gave $zhimher freedom and a sense of purpose. It had always seemed that the least $zheshe could do was devote $zhisher life to them in return. But somehow, meeting $name changed everything. $upperhisher presence changed the things that seemed immutable. $upperhisher presence invited chaos into a life of inflexible control and certainty. $upperheshe created doubt where it had never existed. [[Next|z42]]

$zname couldn’t put into words what it was that $zheshe found so compelling about $name. It wasn’t anything so shallow as mere appearances and $zheshe had never experienced lust in the ways that others seemed to anyway. Then again, $zheshe had never //wanted// or even dreamed of having anything of $zhisher own either. And only now did $zheshe find $zself thinking frequently of the young $gender and wondering if there was something //more// to be had. Was it possible that $name could ever want the same? $zname was in over $zhisher head even before $zheshe knew the tide was coming. When $zheshe thought of $name and felt a stab of longing and want–so simultaneously bitter and sweet that $zheshe could almost feel it burning on $zhisher tongue. It was such a foreign thing to $zhimher. To //want//. To //dream//. “$zname?” [[Next|z43]]

$zname looked up at the sound of the familiar voice and saw $name leaning out of the front door. $zupperheshe had never cared much for anything as shallow as appearance. But there was something about the sight of $name standing in the golden glow of the porch light. It made all of $hisher features warmer and soft. “You know you don’t have to sit out here all night, right?” $name asked. $zname offered a tepid smile. These feelings were such a new and terrifying thing that $zheshe felt frozen by them. The idea of acting on them was a frightening concept, but so too was the notion of going //back//. Because yes, there was fear, but there was also the feeling of finally being //alive//. “I’ll be in soon,” $zname said. [[Next|z44]]

$name gave the agent an odd look. “If you’re sure…” $upperheshe lingered for a moment longer, as if half-hoping that $zname would change $zhisher mind, but eventually gave in with a nod and ducked back inside. $zname watched the spot where $heshe had stood for a few moments longer, well after $heshe had gone, before finally tearing $zhisher eyes away. $zname was no closer to a solution for $zhisher feelings or to understanding from where they came. But the longer $zheshe sat there, the less $zheshe thought on them at all. Instead, $zheshe was overrun with thoughts of $name–of $hisher voice and the color of $hisher eyes. $zupperheshe recognized this quickly, but $zheshe could not bring $zself to care. [[End|Begin]]

Herman County is far enough north to make the summer short, the winter harsh, and the spring and autumn unpredictable. Most winters, the snow gets measured in feet and between December and February there is usually at least one cold snap where the temperatures drop well below freezing. Shortly after this, there’s usually a very abrupt, mid-winter thaw. After plummeting below zero, the temperatures shoot back up and melt every bit of ice and snow, which causes substantial flooding throughout the whole county. It’s such a familiar cycle to the locals and the emergency responders that it barely warrants any more than a cautionary mention on the one local radio station that comes in clearly. The only people ever really caught off guard are the winter tourists. There’s never very many of them and for the most part, if they aren’t passing through on their way elsewhere, they come to Herman County just to investigate some of the more “seasonal” ghost stories. For your part, you’re just glad for the Indian summer because being stuck outside in the cold would have been truly miserable. [[Next|c1]]

“So, why are we out here?” you ask as you follow Carter carefully through the underbrush. Which really isn’t so careful. It’s hard to be delicate in heavy muck boots you’re wearing. At least the ground in this area is relatively dry because of its position above the floodplain. Carter doesn’t answer you, which you’ve gotten used to when his mind is somewhere else–usually on a job. You glance up at him again. He’s wearing his department issued winter jacket that has an insignia on each shoulder and the letters “HCPD” emblazoned across the back. His badge is pinned to the outside on his left breast and over one shoulder he’s carrying a rifle. “And what’s with the gun?” you add. You know that poking at Carter won’t make him answer you any sooner than he wants to, but your curiosity is getting the best of you. Over the course of the last year of living with Carter, you’ve gotten used to him getting called out at all hours of the day and night to help find missing persons. In the summer, it happens practically every week. But this is the first time he’s ever asked one of the other officers to bring you out to the woods to meet him. Unfortunately Sandy, the perky blonde officer on a permanent caffeine high, could only give you the barest of details and had no idea what Carter wanted. [[Next|c2]]

“It’s just a precaution. I told you, there are bears and cougars in the area,” Carter replies over his shoulder. “You been paying attention to the radio?” You shrug. “You mean about that missing girl? No, but I heard about it from Sandy when she drove me out here. Why?” Carter sighs and finally turns to face you. You’ve stopped in a little clearing that’s mostly sheltered from the frigid wind thanks to the denseness of the forest around you. “Jessie Silver,” he says. “She’s twenty-two. She went missing about four hours ago. Or that’s when the report came in, at least.” “Why the hell was she out in the woods in the winter?” you ask, frowning. “Probably because it doesn’t feel much like winter right now. She and a friend were out here looking into some of the urban legends,” Carter replies. “According to the friend, she was there one minute and then gone the next.” “So the friend killed her and she’s dead,” you reply. [[Next|c3]]

Carter snorts out a laugh. “You’ve been watching too many cop shows.” “I watch them with //you//,” you scoff back at him, earning another huff of laughter. “Besides, isn’t that how it usually works? It’s always someone close to you.” “Statistically speaking? Yeah. With female victims we look at the boyfriend and with male victims we look at their friends,” he replies. “But before we go jumping to a murder accusation, we need to make sure it wasn’t something else.” “Ah,” you murmur. “Like a cougar?” “Exactly. Do you remember what I told you about them?” “Solitary, ambush predators that hunt primarily at night,” you reply mechanically. “Which… if this happened four hours ago, it was the middle of the //day//.” Carter shakes his head. “In the winter they’ll get desperate and hunt whenever there’s prey to be found, and right now, with the midwinter thaw, they’ll be especially active. Unfortunately, with so much flooding most of their viable prey has moved up river where it isn’t as bad, which means that a cougar that has its den here has to travel even further to hunt.” “Or lunch on anyone stupid enough to be wandering around the woods nearby,” you say with an understanding nod. “So, why am I out here?” [[Next|c4]]

The cop glances back at you and sighs. “The friend’s story doesn’t make any sense,” he replies. “On a whole people suck at being eyewitnesses, but most people aren’t //this// bad at it. This trail’s about thirty miles and her friend told us that they camped overnight at the halfway marker. He lost track of her somewhere on the trail today, but he doesn’t know at what point.” You frown. “So if they camped at the halfway point, that means he potentially walked another fifteen miles without noticing she was gone? And he didn’t happen to look at the mile marker where he first noticed her missing? So he’s the world’s worst friend //and// a giant moron?” Carter nods and offers you a half-smile. “Exactly. Now, we could spend all day and night searching every square inch of the forest around the trail and still not find her. Especially if she’s panicked and doesn’t know to wait for a search team. We’ve got a couple dogs on the way, but I don’t think we have that kind of time if she //is// alive. It’s already four o’clock and this is the warmest it’s going to get all day. In another couple hours, the temps are going to plummet back down to near-freezing.” [[Next|c5]]

A sudden realization strikes you and you look at Carter with your brows raised in surprise. “You want //me// to track her?” Carter puts up a hand. “I want you to //try//,” he says. “I know it’s asking a lot and if you can’t, it’s no big deal. I don’t want you to feel bad.” You raise a skeptical eyebrow. You’ve only known each other for a little more than a year, but living in close-quarters to someone makes you pretty well-acquainted with them. Carter likes to play things close to the vest and he’s never involved you in his job, but there’s something different about this case that’s prompted him to ask. “All right,” you say, slowly. “I can try.” Carter nods. “That’s all I’m asking.” *** [[Next|c6]]

It doesn’t end the way either of you want it to. After picking up on Jessie’s psyonic trail, Carter commandeers a four wheeler and the two of you follow it all the way to the hikers’ campsite. The ATV has just barely come to a stop when you feel a sharp, sudden pain in the back of your head and you see–//feel//–Jessie’s body hit the ground. //Disgust and hurt. Betrayal and anger and fear–// //“Don’t touch me! What’s wrong with you?”// You shake your head, trying to push away the flood of feelings. They come from two different sources–two different people–but Jessie’s voice rises above it all. “Where?” Carter asks after watching you for a long, silent moment. You rub your eyes and point. “That way. In the creek.” [[Next|c7]]

Carter nods, but instead of getting off the ATV to go look, he starts the engine again and turns around to take you both back the way you’d come. Carter leaves you back at base camp and you’re not quite sure how he manages it from there, but eventually the search teams find the campsite. It’s dusk when the report comes in over the radio that they’ve found the body. One of the officers drives you back to the apartment you share with Carter and you wait up for him until almost dawn. “I’m sorry,” he says, before he’s even managed to close the door behind himself. There’s mud halfway up his shins and he looks more tired than usual. You frown. “Sorry about what?” Carter shakes his head. “Asking you to do that,” he replies. “That was shitty of me. I shouldn’t have put that on you. You barely sleep and eat as it is, I don’t need to //add// to that.” [[Next|c8]]

“You didn’t,” you say, shrugging. “It’s not like I’ve never experienced someone’s death before.” He shoots you a pained look. “That’s not helping me feel better about this.” You laugh a little. “I mean, I liked helping. And I’m used to all of the other gross stuff.” You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs. “But… why did you ask? I mean, what was so special about this one?” Carter frowns a little to himself, as if not sure how to answer this. He takes his time taking off his coat and muddy boots and then slumps into one of the dining table chairs. “I… had a sister,” he begins. “I guess Jessie reminded me of her a little.” “How?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Pretty, blonde, young. Her name was Cass.” [[Next|c9]]

There’s something about the look in Carter’s eye that seems far away. Like he’s gone to another place and time. “What happened?” you ask. There’s no delicate way to ask, but still you cringe at the way it comes out. But Carter shakes his head. “I’ll tell you some other time,” he says. “You sure you’re all right?” You shrug. “I’m okay,” you say. “It was… I don’t know. ‘Fun’ seems like the wrong word to use.” “Probably,” Carter snorts back. He gives you a long, thoughtful look. “So you’d really be willing to do it again?” “Sure,” you say, shrugging. “I mean… you’re always telling me that I have to be careful and that I shouldn’t abuse what I can do. Since I’m not allowed to bully the bullies at school, this is probably the next best thing.” [[Next|c10]]

He doesn’t look very convinced, but he also doesn’t say anything as he draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’ll think about it,” he says finally. He waves his hand vaguely. “You should go to bed.” You nod and stand up. “What about you?” you ask as you push your chair in. “I need to clean up,” Carter replies dismissively. “Just go get some sleep.” You can’t help but feel like there’s something else he wants to say, but you decide not to press him for answers and quietly retreat to your bedroom. [[End|Begin]]

$rnamepos initial idea to strengthen your telekinetic abilities comes as kind of a surprise. Telekinesis has always come secondary to your other abilities, which you routinely use to help Carter with his cases. So, you’ve never really thought about improving it, let alone using it for a weapon. So, you’re not totally sure if there’s a specific use $rname has in mind, or if $rheshe if this just goes hand-in-hand with everything else you’ve been practicing. $rname can’t mimic your abilities exactly–explaining offhandedly that there’s something about a psychic’s brain being built differently than others–but $rheshe can manage it enough to throw some small objects at you. Which you practice blocking and launching back at $khimher. It’s actually pretty fun. It’s strangely freeing to use your powers so openly around someone who understands. Moreover, someone who can //help//. You’ve been freehanding everything for the last ten years or so. Carter’s always tried to help, especially when it comes to the scarier or emotionally taxing bits, but before telling you about MAB he’d been forced to be rather vague. At your request. You wish you had realized sooner that you were sabotaging yourself. [[R11]]

“You’re getting much better at this,” $rname says. $rupperheshe has unbuttoned $rhisher waistcoat and rolled up $rhisher shirt sleeves. It doesn’t usually get very hot in Herman County–not even during the summer–but the humidity can be absolutely crushing. $rnamepos forehead and neck even glisten with a fine layer of sweat. “Although, I suppose I felt safer when I could trust your aim to be terrible.” You laugh. “Don’t be annoying and you won’t have anything to worry about,” you reply. $rname chuckles and rakes a hand back through $rhisher hair. The gesture combined with the smooth, musical tone sends a shiver rolls down your spine. You’re still not totally sure what you should think of $rame. You know that you’re probably starting to like $rhimher a little too much and you know for a fact that you definitely find $rhimher a little too attractive. And of course, finding $rhimher attractive does make $rhisher more annoying habits more tolerable overall, but it feels… You can’t put a word to it. [[Next|r12]]

Desperate? Like, really? You’ve always been content with being alone. Well, as alone as anyone can get in a town like Port Gillain. Then this $rgender shows up and you’re tripping over yourself? You need to get a grip. A tennis ball suddenly bounces harmlessly off the tree trunk just behind you and you snap back to yourself. “I’m glad we haven’t moved on to anything heavier,” $rname says to scold you, though $rhisher tone is full of worry. “Are you all right? Do we need to take a break?” “I–yeah. I think so,” you say, shaking your head. “Sorry. I guess I’m not all with it today.” “Today has been fine,” $rname replies, frowning at you. “It’s just that the last fifteen minutes seem to be suddenly very strenuous.” “What did I say about not being annoying?” you say warningly as you go to fetch your water bottle from where it rests under a nearby tree. $rname sighs. “I need to know when you’re feeling strain. Or you’re going to overwork yourself, make yourself sick, and then lose days of training to recovery.” [[Next|13]]

“I don’t even understand why we’re focusing on this,” you reply, annoyed by $rhisher badgering. You know that $rheshe means well, but you’re annoyed. Granted, you’re mostly annoyed with yourself. But $rheshe is still partially to blame. “You know I barely use my telekinesis, right? It’s not my strong suit.” “It isn’t you strong suit //because// you barely use it,” $rname replies. “The more facets of your powers that you can control, the more control you will have in general. As powerful as you are, you should not still be straining so much to block out interference.” “Yeah, well, there wasn’t exactly a how-to guide stapled to my ass when Carter found me.” $rname lets out a scoff–albeit an amused one–and $rhisher expression softens a little. “I’m sorry,” $rheshe says. “I’m not giving you enough credit. What you’ve managed to do by yourself is impressive.” You sigh. “You //say// that, but it doesn’t feel all that impressive. It feels like there are more gaps in my knowledge than not.” [[Next|r14]]

“That’s true of everything–supernatural or not,” $rname replies. “Only the foolish think they have nothing left to learn. Besides, I’m not sure that you really understand the full scope of your own ability. You’ve come to take it for granted and you’ve never had anything else to compare it to.” You frown at $rhimher. “What do you mean?” “What I mean is that psychics…” $rname pauses a moment to think and draws in a long breath. After a moment, $rhisher gaze returns to yours. “Psychics aren’t all that rare. As far as paranaturals go, they probably make up a decent percentage, but they generally fall within one of two categories.” You let your weight lean back against the tree behind you, nodding for $rname to go on. $rupperheshe sighs. “The majority of psychics barely even qualify as psychics. They might be especially empathetic or have the occasional bit of prescience, but for the most part they are generally unaware of their abilities. There are a handful who become decently strong, but they tend to be very specialized in just one aspect. Then there are those who are powerful. Who have the same range and strength that you do.” [[Next|r15]]

“But…?” you ask. “But they have no control,” $rname says. “They have no means of blocking out anything. So, they endure the full brunt of it–every wandering thought, every memory, every sensation. A psychic’s mind is uniquely adapted for its abilities, but it is also incredibly fragile. It does not take much for it to break.” You don’t really know how to react to that, but a thousand things you’ve always questioned suddenly make sense. You understand now why Carter was always so worried about how much you slept and ate when you were a kid. It even explains why he went so far as to purchase the cabin for you so you could have some solitude away from town. All the effort he put into caring for you and doting on you. All of the nights he stayed awake with you, all of the little things he did to keep you comfortable… “Then what does that make me?” you ask, once the silence stretched on for a little too long. “Fascinating,” $rname replies. A small smile pulls at the corner of $rhisher mouth, though you can’t quite read the feeling behind it. “It means that you’re fascinating, kitten. And quite lucky.” [[End|Begin]]

For all of $rnamepos fussing to the contrary, you think you do all right. If nothing else, you think you should be commended for not having gone insane. Which isn’t to say that you never struggle. You’re not sure exactly what brings it on, but Carter had always insisted it happens most when you’re sick or not sleeping properly. Regardless of the reason some days are excruciating. It’s a combination of the world’s worst migraine and a radio that’s been jacked into the back of your head, turned on full blast, and rapidly flipping between stations. It hurts. It’s like an ice pick being driven straight between your eyes. These bad days are almost entirely the reason why Carter eventually had the cabin built for you away from town. Living in an apartment wasn’t ideal to start with for someone with extrasensory abilities like yours, but living in such close proximity to so many other people made your bad days far, far worse. [[Next|k21]]

You never used to understand Carter’s vehemence that you needed a place by yourself, but you know now that Carter was ultimately afraid of your powers driving you over the edge. And looking back on it, you have a whole new appreciation for the lengths he went to for you. Carter promised to check on you a few times throughout the day and to keep $rname and $zname out of your hair. Not that you think they’d do anything to intentionally make it worse, but having more people around generally means there’s more for your powers to pick up on. By yourself, it’s not so bad. Which is all to say, you’re not initially aware of the Kestrel when $kheshe invites $kself into the cabin. $kupperheshe has made it a habit to come and go as $kheshe pleases, despite all of $rnamepos and $znamepos attempts to prevent it. So far, nothing’s worked. The only thing that seems to keep the Kestrel away is the physical presence of someone else. [[Next|k22]]

You //feel// $khisher presence before anything else. The strange void $kheshe creates in your perception gives them away just as much as actually being able to sense $khimher. “Sparrow?” You’re curled up in bed with your comforter pulled up over your head to block out the last little bit of light edging in around your curtains. “Go. Away,” you mumble. “I’m not in the mood today.” You half-expect the Kestrel to take it as an invitation to be troublesome, but instead $kheshe is quiet as $kheshe comes to sit on the edge of your bed. “Are you ill?” [[Next|k23]]

$kupperheshe sounds genuinely concerned. It catches you by surprise and you even pull the blanket off of your face to look at $khimher directly. The Kestrel is perched near the foot of the bed, frowning at you thoughtfully. In your dreams, you were never as put off by the Kestrel’s appearance. But in the starkness of reality, you can’t help but find $khisher strange eyes a little off-putting. Really, you think, it has less to do with the stark blackness of $khisher sklera and everything to do with the weight and intensity of $khisher stare. It feels like $kheshe stares right through you. “I’m not sick,” you say finally. “I’m just… I’m having a hard time with all the noise today.” You make a vague motion with your hand and the Kestrel murmurs quietly in understanding. “I see. I suppose power always has its price,” $kheshe says. $kupperhisher tone is not mocking or antagonizing you. Instead, $kheshe sounds quite confused. “Can the witch offer you no remedy?” [[Next|k24]]

“Witch–? Oh, you mean $rname,” you mumble as you rub your eyes. “I don’t think $kheshe would appreciate being called that and, yeah, $rheshe offered, but it didn’t seem fair to make $rhimher stay here with me all day. Besides, Carter needed $rhimher for something.” The Kestrel hums at this. “Would it be better if I left you?” $kheshe asks. You’re a little floored by the offer. If you were in the mood for theatrics, you’d make a bigger deal about it out loud because “The Kestrel showing care for your well-being” was not on your Bingo card for the day. “I…” It takes you a moment to recollect your thoughts. “No, it’s… I mean, you don’t make it //worse//. I can’t feel or read you the way I can with other people. So you’re not adding to the noise, I mean.” Belatedly, you realize that you should have worded that better. For all you know, the Kestrel is likely to take that as an invite to come around all the time. Then again, they do that anyway. How could it be worse? Or maybe you shouldn’t ask that question where it regards the fae… [[Next|k25]]

Still, the Kestrel doesn’t jump on the opportunity. Instead, $kheshe remains quiet for a few moments longer. Then: “I could help you.” “Help…?” You repeat the word, because it sounds entirely foreign coming from $khisher lips. “How?” $kupperheshe simply offers you $khisher hand. “A dream,” $kheshe says. $khisher voice is low and melodic. Soothing. It reminds you a little of how $rname sounds when inducing a trance. “I offer you a dream away from this. To let your body rest and your mind wander.” [[Next|k26]]

It’s a tempting offer. The problem is that it’s almost too tempting. “What do you expect in return?” you ask. It’s become a reflex when dealing with the Kestrel. The Kestrel shakes $khisher head. “I offer this and ask for nothing.” Your bad days have never caused you to hallucinate before, but you might have to ask $rname if that’s possible. Because you’re not totally convinced that any of this is real. Which is entirely possible considering who you’re speaking with. Still, the idea of escaping this nauseating pain… if only for a little bit. Cautiously, you place your hand in the Kestrel’s. [[End|Begin]]

“Where exactly are we going?” $rname asks, frowning. For all of $rhisher initial complaints, Port Gillain has seemingly grown on $rhimher. And for the most part the locals have grown fond of $rhimher in turn. Which isn’t necessarily surprising. Despite $rhisher penchant for being melodramatic and snarky, it’s tempered by a lot of charm. $rname always seems to know just what to say and do to put people at ease with $rhisher presence. Still, $rname puts on the act everytime you drag $rhimher around downtown. “We’re going to see Mama Jude,” you reply with a shrug. $rname simply raises an eyebrow in question and you can’t help but wonder how $rheshe manages to load such a benign gesture with so much sarcasm. “Mama Jude,” you begin. “She’s kind of… a matriarch? I guess? For the whole county. Everyone knows her. She’s been here for ages. She’s… well…” “She’s what?” $rname asks. You rub your neck and spare $rhimher a sideways look. “You’ll see.” [[Next|r21]]

You walk another block or so before coming upon one of the last residential properties in the middle of downtown. While there are loft apartments over just about every storefront, most of the old, free-standing homes were converted into businesses. Except one. It’s an old Victorian-esque house, with a rounded turret and old, wooden siding covered in a thick layer of English ivy. The covered porch is wide, with intricate scrollwork and carved spindles, and sitting in its shade is a truly ancient woman in an old rocking chair. The woman wears an amalgamation of colors and clashing patterns with half a dozen golden lavaliere necklaces and an assortment of rings. Her hair is white and pulled forward over one shoulder in a long braid and her eyes are a sharp, silvery gray. A long, churchwarden pipe hangs from her lips as she rocks slowly. “Hey, Mama,” you say as you start up the stone path from the sidewalk. The old woman smiles and pulls the pipe from her mouth. “Ah, hello sweetheart,” she says. “I knew you’d be coming by. I dreamed about you and your friend.” Her eyes slide over to $rname and she smiles. “$rname, isn’t it?” $rnamepos step falters. “Ah, yes. Ma’am. Have we been introduced?” [[Next|r22]]

Mama smiles serenely as she sets her pipe aside. “Not yet,” she says. You climb the steps onto the porch and lean down to kiss the woman on the cheek. “$rupperhesheis—” “—Helping you find that poor girl,” Mama replies, nodding sagely. “Whatcha need, baby?” “I was hoping you could do a reading for us,” you say. “We’re trying to sort out some details and I think you might be able to help.” A sly grin pulls at the corner of the old lady’s lips. “Did you come by just for the reading and not to visit Mama?” You smile a little guiltily. “We can stay for tea?” you offer. “I’ll take it,” the woman says, extending a hand to you. “Help me up.” [[Next|r23]]

You do so and Mama Jude toddles ahead of you to the opened front door, beckoning for you and $rname to follow. The inside of the house has always made you think of a witch’s hut. There are herbs hanging in bunches from the ceiling rafters and growing in little pots in the windows. The shelves play host to some ancient looking books and large, raw crystals. Sunlight filters in from the outside through filmy curtains and the furniture is all plush, purple velvet to contrast with the dark forest green of the walls. “Take a seat. I brewed some tea fresh this morning expecting you.” $rname takes a seat beside you on the sofa, $rhisher eyes focused on the beaded curtain Mama Jude just disappeared behind. “So… a witch?” $rheshe asks. $rupperhisher voice is nearly a whisper. “No idea,” you reply. “I’ve never been able to tell if it’s real or if she’s just got a good ear for gossip. But Carter’s always come to her for advice, so he seems to think it’s real.” $rname hums quietly in understanding, but doesn’t say anything as Mama Jude comes back into the room carrying a tray laden with cups, saucers, and an old, porcelain teapot. Instead, $rheshe jumps to $rhisher feet to assist the old woman by relieving her of the heavy tray. [[Next|r24]]

“Ah, thank you, darling,” Mama says, patting $rheshe on the arm. “No problem,” $rname replies with a smile as $rheshe places the tray on the coffee table and then kneels down to pour everyone a cup. Mama Jude takes a seat on the other couch and turns her attention to you. “How’s Jacob?” she asks. “Carter’s Carter,” you say. “He’s good.” Mama nods contentedly at this. “Good. You tell him he owes me a visit. I haven’t seen him in a while.” You smile. “Sure, Mama. Can you do the reading now?” The old woman nods as $rname hands her a cup of tea. The concoction is a dark, ruby red that turns pinkish when she adds a splash of milk. “Would you get my deck for me, sweetheart? It’s just over there on the mantle.” You nod and get up immediately to fetch the familiar, little box perched on the mantlepiece over the stone fireplace. The box is made from black walnut that’s been intricately carved with esoteric symbols. You carry it back to Mama Jude, who stretches out her old, gnarled hands to take it. [[Next|r25]]

“Good $boygirl,” she says, nodding in approval. You take your seat beside $rname and see that $rheshe has already poured you tea as well. You take a tentative sip. Mama Jude scoots forward in her seat to place the card box on the table and then removes the deck. The cards look as old as the woman herself, with frayed edges and faded colors. The woman tips her head back and closes her eyes as she begins shuffling the cards still in her hands. “What answers are you looking for?” “We’re thinking if we can figure out the ‘why’, we can figure out the ‘who’,” you reply. Mama nods in understanding and opens her eyes again as she finishes shuffling. Then she lays the deck on the tabletop and spreads it out. “Focus on the girl,” she says. You’ve done this before and reach out to pick a card. You slide it carefully away from the others and Mama turns it face-up. The old woman pauses for a moment as she evaluates the card. She drags her fingertips over the face, tracing the image of a woman holding a glowing orb in her hands. “Hm…” [[Next|r26]]

You sigh. You’re maybe overly familiar with this particular dance. “You got to walk me through—” Mama waggles a finger at you. “Don’t interrupt.” You sigh again, but sit back with an expectant look. Mama’s done more than a few tarot readings for you, but you’ve never had enough of an interest to memorize which cards mean what. You glance over at $rname, half-expecting $rhimher to look bored, but instead $rheshe is pitched eagerly forward in $rhisher seat, watching intently. Mama draws another card and thoughtfully considers it before drawing yet another. She draws a few more, placing them carefully after considering each. You see a handful of suit cards—swords and wands mostly—and a few face cards though you don’t recognize them. “Your girl’s a good egg,” she says, eventually. She indicates the first card she drew, which illustrates a sky of stars. “Loving. A sweet thing.” She drags her finger over the cards, eventually pausing on one that depicts a pair of lovers embracing. “This… the Lovers. There’s someone close to her at the root of this mess.” “The Lovers? So a boyfriend?” you suggest. [[Next|r27]]

Mama shakes her head. “Your soulmate ain’t gotta be your lover,” she replies. She taps the next card, which depicts someone sitting on a throne wearing a golden crown. It takes you a moment to realize that from Mama’s perspective, it’s upside down. “The Hierophant,” $rname mumbles with a contemplative frown. “But reversed. So… a troublemaker. That sounds about right.” Mama clicks her tongue and points to the next that depicts a golden scale. It’s also upside down. “Some trouble’s worth making,” she says. “Justice ain’t justice when it becomes tyranny.” $rname sits back, frowning contemplatively at the cards. “Didn’t the police speak to all of the girl’s friends?” $rheshe asks. You shrug. “I thought so,” you say. “Maybe no one knows about this other friend?” “Maybe,” $rheshe mumbles, but you can tell $rheshe doesn’t really believe it. $rupperheshe glances at Mama Jude. “Can you glean any further details about this friend?” Mama hums and scoops the cards again. She shuffles them and then pulls a few cards, laying them in a different pattern than last time. She tuts and clicks her tongue as she examines them. [[Next|r221]]

It’s absolutely infuriating when $rname mirrors the sounds. You sigh. “All right, I know that //you// two know what’s going on…” you trail off meaningfully. Mama laughs and spares you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, lovesome,” she says. She reaches out to tap one of the cards. “Since you want to know more about this friend, I asked the cards how the girl thinks of them and they showed me the Fool.” “—Which sounds bad, but it isn’t,” $rname supplies helpfully. “She sees them as something new. A curiosity.” “So, what’d you draw for the friend?” you ask. Mama’s hand moves to the next card. It’s an ominous looking one, depicting a burning tower. The woman pauses on it for a moment, her brow furrowing in concentration. You look expectantly at $rname. “The Tower,” $rheshe replies. “It indicates a radical change.” [[Next|r222]]

“I thought Death meant change,” you reply. $rname shakes $rhisher head. “Death is natural change. It’s the wheel turning,” $rheshe says. “The Tower is abrupt and destructive. So Casey’s friend might be the troublemaker, but they seem to see her as one too.” “Is that good or bad?” you wonder Mama Jude hums. “Good for the friend, I’d say,” she says. She reaches over to the deck and deftly draws one of the cards from the top and shows it to you, though she doesn’t look at it herself. It’s the scales again, still upside down. “But bad for whatever it is they are trying to change.” You and $rname share a look between yourselves. The information isn’t specific enough to go anywhere with, but it certainly provides context you were lacking before. At the very least, it gives you a different reason to look for this friend of Casey’s. Even if they aren’t what made her disappear, they’re almost certainly at the center of it. “Thanks for the reading, Mama,” you say eventually. Mama Jude nods. “Any time, sweetheart. Are you two staying for breakfast?” You glance at $rname, who shrugs amicably. You sigh. “Yeah, that sounds great, Mama. Thank you.” [[End|Begin]]

You’ve never really thought about it. No one at school has ever asked you about it—no one at school speaks to you at all if they can avoid it—and Carter’s never brought it up. And it’s not like you’ve not been busy with other things. Between weird powers you’re doing your best to control and total amnesia you’ve had a lot on your plate. Then there’s just the neverending circus that is being in high school. So it’s an unexpected surprise when you get home from school, walk into the kitchen for a glass of water, and are greeted by the sight of a bunch of gift-wrapped packages with the names attached. Most of them are from the officers at the department, but some are also from other locals you know. Among them is an elaborately hand-embroidered quilt which you know immediately is from Mama June. [[Next|c21]]

“Ah, hell, you’re home already." You turn around and see Carter standing in the kitchen doorway, rubbing his neck. He’s still got his badge and duty belt on. “What’s this?” you ask, gesturing at the table. “Birthday stuff—for you,” he replies, shrugging. “I was kind of hoping I’d have time to do something more with it, but…” “Birthday?” you repeat. “Today’s my birthday?” “Your real one? Hell if I know. But it’s the day I found you, so it’s probably the closest we’ll get,” Carter replies. He gestures vaguely toward the table, looking a little guilty. “The guys at the department made a big fuss about not doing anything for Halloween, so they’ve been harping on the birthday thing lately.” You grin a little before you know you’re doing it. Carter likes to play detached and aloof, but you’re getting to know him better than that. No one went out of their way like he does on a regular basis without actually caring. “You didn’t have to,” you say. [[Next|c22]]

Carter waves a hand. “When I took you in I told myself I’d try to give you a normal life and all of this crap is a part of that. They tried to talk me into a party, but I told them that crowds still make you nervous.” It’s the typical excuse you’ve both learned to fall back on where it concerns your powers. It’s an entirely plausible excuse and even more importantly anything that hints at trauma quickly puts an immediate end to the well-intentioned questions. “So, what’d you get me?” you ask as you both go to take a seat at the table. “I paid rent,” Carter replies in a deadpan. “Happy birthday.” You give him a flat, unimpressed look. [[Next|c23]]

The cop grins a little, but sobers quickly as shrugs. “I know school’s been hard on you and you’ve been having more bad days lately, so I was thinking that if you wanted to we could go camping. I figure getting you away from town so your mind can rest for a few days is probably a better gift for you than a party. But if you don’t want to do that, we can think of something else.” “Camping?” you repeat. You like the idea. At the very least, you’d like to try it. Maybe. “Do we really want to go camping in a place that’s notorious for campers getting lost?” Carter just laughs. “I’ll protect you, kid,” he says. “By the way, Beth wants us to come by the diner for dinner if you’re feeling up to it. I think she made you a cake.” “You think? So it's a theoretical cake?" you ask doubtfully. The cop rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why else she’d ask me what your favorite flavor was,” he says. “But I told her to just surprise us, which probably means it’s going to be weird.” [[Next|c24]]

“Well, it wouldn’t be Beth’s baking if it wasn’t weird,” you concede. Then You wrinkle your nose. “Do you remember the goat cheese and cranberry ice cream?” He snorts. “Or the rose-flavored chocolates?” You can’t help but laugh and drop your head to the table. “No! Why’d you remind me? I can still taste them when I think about it." Carter just laughs as he stands up. “C’mon, let’s go eat first and do gifts later,” he says. “Beth always gets herself worked up when you make her wait too long.” You nod in agreement and follow him out of the kitchen to the front door. “Hey, can I skip school tomorrow?” you ask as you put your shoes back on and grab your coat. [[Next|c25]]

He raises an eyebrow. “No?” “But it’s my birthday!” Carter scoffs out a laugh as he shrugs into his beat-up, leather jacket. “Tomorrow it won’t be.” “That’s not fair!” “//That’s not fair//!” he whines back at you. You hit him in the arm and he just laughs and leads you out of the apartment. [[End|Begin]]

You’ve spent enough time with Carter over the years that you’ve become an expert at reading him. At least, you’re as much of an expert of one as anyone can be. Carter isn’t a terribly expressive person, even at the best of times and you’ve watched him spend twenty hours searching for missing people in the miserable cold rains of March without ever giving so much as a hint of being tired or worried. You’re not sure what it would take to make Carter panic and you’re not particularly interested in finding out. In fact, Carter’s such a steady, unflappable person that he’s become something like an anchor for you. Whenever you’re overwhelmed, you’ve learned to focus on him and let his calm soothe you—which has helped tremendously since you’ve started working with the department. Which is all to say that you’ve become indelible parts of each other’s lives and you spend as much time together on your own as you do when you’re working. So you’re surprised—to say the least—when you first hear that Carter has a sister. As far as you’ve ever known, Carter just appeared one day after a pile of cigarette ash and old flannel congealed and gained sapience. Which makes it weird to think about him having once had a family of his own. [[Next|Carter31]]

It’s $rname who eventually lets it slip, though it’s clear that $rheshe doesn’t know anything more when you press for details. And the question is quickly put on hold when things get busy. But now as you’re helping Carter deep clean his apartment, it comes back to you as you sit on the bed in your old room sorting through old books. He’s left the room more or less completely untouched since you moved out, but your old closet has become a junk drawer of sorts. “Spit it out.” You glance up quickly at Carter, who is busy pulling boxes out of the closet to sort through. You had no idea that Carter even //had// clutter to get rid of. “What?” you ask. Carter glances back at you as he reaches up for a box on the top shelf. “I said spit it out,” he says. “I know something’s obviously bugging you.” [[Next|c32]]

You suppose the logical result of knowing Carter so well means that he knows you pretty well in return. “I don’t know if you want to talk about it,” you reply. He shrugs. “Then I’ll tell you I don’t.” You believe him. Maybe Carter’s not the most paternal person on the planet, but he has always been refreshingly straightforward. When he’s told you he won’t get mad about something, he’s never gone back on it. “Well…” You rub your neck. “$rname said something the other day that kind of surprised me.” “Like what?” Carter asks. “$rupperheshe said you have a sister.” Carter physically pauses and his shoulders go rigid. You can almost see the gears turning in his head even before he turns to look at you. You’re both quiet as he makes some kind of quick calculation. Then: “I did. Yeah.” //Did//. The use of past tense doesn’t escape you. “Were you close?” you ask. “We were twins. So, yeah. We were.” You have a million more questions, but you don’t know what to start with or even if you should. This doesn’t seem like something you should push. Especially if Carter’s never seen fit to mention it in the past. Thankfully, he makes the choice for you. “Just a second,” he says as he heads to the door. [[Next|c33]]

You’re surprised and you don’t really know what to expect, but you sit and wait. A few minutes pass before Carter finally comes back into the room, carrying an old shoe box. He sits down on the bed and places the box between you both. “It wasn’t something I was trying to keep secret,” he says eventually, nodding at the box as he pitches forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I guess I figured it didn’t matter much with her being gone and all. But now…” He pauses to rub his neck. “Now with you knowing about MAB and everything I guess it might be important, eventually. And I’d rather you get it from me before $rname opens $rhisher yap again.” You’re not sure how to answer as you pull off the lid off the box. There are old photos, a pair of time-worn and fraying friendship bracelets, and a battered journal. You reach in to pick up a grainy, black and white photo of a pair of teenagers sitting on a porch stoop. The girl is a pretty blonde with her head resting on the shoulder of a boy the same age, who is unmistakably Carter. A younger, happier looking Carter, but the squint of his eyes and the wry smirk in place of a smile is a dead giveaway. You glance back over at your surrogate father. He isn’t looking at you any more and is instead staring at some point in the distance. [[Next|c34]]

“We grew up in a rural area in the South—even more rural than Herman County. Mom died when we were kids and our sperm donor was a waste of oxygen, so we really only had each other,” he begins. “When we were fifteen, Cass got a boyfriend. I didn’t like him, but he made her happy so I tried not to say anything. Then one night she went out to meet him somewhere and she didn’t come home. At the time, cops liked to say that every missing teenager was just a runaway because that meant less paperwork for them. So no one went looking for her except me.” “No one else cared?” you ask. He shakes his head. “Our father was a jackass and I poached and committed a lot of petty theft—mostly so Cass and I had something to eat, but…” He waves a hand dismissively. “I eventually found her in the woods outside of town. Dead. The cops called it an animal attack. I told them she’d gone out to meet her boyfriend, but the bastard said they weren’t even dating and he called Cass crazy. So the cops just dropped it. But none of that made any sense. Cass wasn’t crazy and she didn’t just randomly decide to go for a hike in the middle of the night.” “What’d you do?” you ask. Your voice is almost a whisper. Carter’s never talked about his childhood so the moment almost feels sacrosanct. [[Next|c35]]

Carter snorts and rubs a hand over his mouth. “The only useful thing my father ever taught me was how to track and hunt,” he says. “So I went out to the woods by myself to look around. They called it a bear attack, but the tracks and hair I found didn’t belong to any bear I’d ever seen. Besides, a bear wouldn’t just leave a body in the open. They bury things in caches to keep it for later.” He grimaces a little, but then shakes his head as if to dismiss the thought. “I eventually found out that Cass wasn’t the first girl to go missing and wind up dead in those woods. There were others, but no one wanted to talk about them.” “Why not?” “They were scared. For good reason too. I came home one day and found a dead cat on our porch. It was obvious that someone had tortured the poor thing.” Carter takes a breath. “I eventually decided to go see this old woman we all used to call a witch when we were kids. Knowing what I know now, maybe she was. But at the time, no one really knew much about her except that she lived by herself just on the edge of that woods. I figured that maybe she’d seen something or knew something about the other girls. It took a while to get her to talk to me, but eventually she said I was right. It wasn’t a bear.” He trails off, as if lost in a thought or a memory. Then he shakes his head and glances at you again. “It was a werewolf.” [[Next|c36]]

Your eyes go wide. Whatever turn you were expecting the story to take, it hadn’t been that. “Did you believe her?” Carter shrugs. “At that point I’d been called crazy so many times that I wasn’t going to say the same to her. I knew what that felt like. So I just asked her to explain.” He hesitates again, his lip curling a little in disgust at something. He glances at you. “I was too stupid to acknowledge this when I was younger, but I want you to know it. Most packs are just families and werewolves are just people—a different kind of people, but people. Some of them are good. Some are bad. Do you understand? You can’t judge the whole lot based on what a handful do.” His tone is firm, almost forceful. Like he needs to hear it as much as you do. You nod. Carter eyes you for a moment before nodding back, apparently satisfied. “The thing with wolves is that they’ll eventually go feral and lose their minds if they’re separated from their pack. So some packs have certain rites their whelps have to perform to be acknowledged by the pack. It’s meant to keep the pack strong, but all it really does is force the whelps between a rock and a hard place. Either they do something—usually awful—to prove themselves or they go moon mad. It turned out that Cass’ boyfriend was in that kind of pack. I guess him having a human girlfriend was a bad look, so he lured her out to the woods so he could hunt her and kill her to prove himself.” [[Next|c37]]

Your stomach sinks and for the first time since you’ve met Carter you feel an absolutely nauseating wave of anguish and anger radiate off of him. It lasts for only a second before being immediately reined in. It’s so jarring it almost gives you whiplash and you wonder how Carter learned to do that. “So, the pack killed the other girls too?” you ask eventually as you rub your forehead to soothe the ache. “I never found any hard proof of that, but the dead girls all had some connection to the pack, so yeah. I think they did. And they got away with it because a few pack members were part of the local police department,” Carter replies. “So, what’d you do?” you ask. He takes a deep breath and when he looks at you and you half-expect him to say something. Instead, he seems to think better of it and shakes his head. “Nothing I’m proud of,” he says eventually. “I dropped out of school. I spent a few years mad at the world and taking it out on every supernatural I thought deserved it. Then MAB found me—not because what I was doing was wrong but because I was successful. Turns out they don’t really care what you’ve done as long as they have a use for you.” “MAB //found// you?” you ask. “How?” [[Next|c38]]

Carter shrugs again. “When you earn a reputation for hunting the apex predators of the supernatural world, you get a lot of attention whether you want it or not.” Carter has always had a habit of being bluntly direct with literally everything, so it’s strange to see him tip-toeing around details. But that’s fine. He doesn’t need to say the unspoken bits. You can connect those dots yourself. “Do you regret any of it?” you ask eventually. “I regret letting that hate control me. I regret how I justified it to myself and that I hurt people who probably didn’t really deserve it just because I’d convinced myself they did. I regret letting MAB get their hooks in,” he says. Then he looks at you and his expression softens a little. “But if it all brought me here…” He finishes the thought with another shrug, letting the unspoken words hang in the air. You smile a little. Whatever other questions you have, you’re content to let them go for now. [[End|Begin]]

MAB really wasn’t known for its retirement program, but that was mostly because their agents didn’t generally make it to retirement. Most transferred out within the first two years—a significant percentage before the end of their apprenticeships. The rest died, usually in the line of duty, but sometimes by their own hand after being confronted with something they couldn’t process. Which said a lot about Jacob Carter. Carter couldn’t attribute his success to any one particular thing. He’d seen agents with twice his experience and skill make stupid mistakes. The lucky ones died. The rest weren’t so fortunate and they were left mangled and barely more than a shell of a person. So it really wasn’t about skill at all. It was all chance and when anyone asked he’d say he was born a lot meaner than anything the supernatural had ever created. [[Next|c41]]

Once he was retired, though, Carter didn’t think about MAB much on a day-to-day basis. He’d worked for MAB for twenty, solid years and they hadn’t earned any more of his time past the occasional field report. His “plan” was to play sheriff for a small town—where the biggest day-to-day complaints were about someone else’s yard having too many dandelions—and try to get on with his life. He hadn’t planned on adopting any strays. Especially not teenage ones. The $boygirl changed a lot of things. But mostly, he couldn’t pretend anymore that his career with MAB was just a dream. Carter only met a handful of psychics in his time—mostly the ones who worked for MAB. And while some of them boasted pretty impressive telekinetic or prescient abilities, they were nowhere near as powerful as his stray. But for good reason. Psychic minds were notoriously fragile, so power and control almost never came hand-in-hand. Those fortunate few who worked for MAB were the few with demonstrable abilities who also retained their sanity. The rest spent their lives in controlled facilities, where their powers were hollowed out with medications and surgery. [[Next|c42]]

As far as Carter knew, a psychic as powerful as his stray who was also in full control of their faculties, was more of a theoretical proposition than a reality. Which made him all the more determined to protect the kid. He didn’t know exactly what MAB would do if they found out, but experience told him that it wasn’t going to be anything good. Unfortunately, the kid’s insistence that $heshe did not want to know about the supernatural made everything simultaneously easier and more difficult. In theory, it was good for $himher to have one less thing to dwell on and the mere act of “knowing” about the supernatural tended to invite it into one’s life. On the other hand, it was a lot harder to prepare $himher for the world—especially life in Herman County—without the ability to be straight forward. Stranger danger and lessons in common sense just didn’t bear the same weight as saying outright “the Fae will kidnap you” and “stay out of the water because kelpies.” [[Next|c43]]

Still, Carter was determined to abide by the kid’s wishes, so he decided that he would fill in the gaps in other ways. Whenever they could get away from town, he took the kid out camping in the woods. Camping gave him a chance to teach the kid some essential survival skills //and// how to respect nature and whether or not the kid knew they were learning how to avoid offending the various sprites and spirits that inhabited the woods didn’t matter as much. Carter pondered on all of these things as he sat staring into the campfire. $name was sound asleep in $hisher bedroll just to his right, having passed out during his impromptu lesson on celestial navigation. He glanced over at the kid. It was a relief to watch $hisher calm, even breathing and stillness, especially as it contrasted so sharply with the fitful, restless way $heshe usually squirmed around in $hisher bed. It made every minute he spent preparing camp and chopping wood for the fire worth it. [[Next|c44]]

Carter spared the kid one last glance before getting to his feet. He scrounged around in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes and his lighter and walked to the other side of camp so the wind would carry the smoke away from them. They had enough problems on their own without adding anything to it… He lit a cigarette and had it half-way to his lips when he stopped short. It took him a second to notice, but the whole woods had suddenly gone silent. The chorus of crickets and frogs was gone, leaving just the sound of the wind as it blew through the tree boughs and the crackle of the campfire. Usually, silence was a sign of a predator close by, but Carter felt a familiar shiver of an uncomfortable familiarity. He turned his attention to the otherside of the clearing, his eyes narrowing as he searched for the intruder. “You take another step closer to my kid and you’re going to fucking regret it,” he growled. [[Next|c45]]

The air at the opposite side of the clearing seemed to shiver, like it did when heat radiated off hot pavement, and there was a pause. Like his unexpected guest was thinking. Then the shimmer in the air coalesced into a figure that was distinctly not human. It was a tall, bipedal figure made of an amalgamation of animal bones and tree branches wrapped in tattered rags with a jawless bear skull in place of a head. There were drapes of moss that hung from its shoulders and two, burning red embers stood in the place of eyes, peering out from the skull. Carter took a slow drag from his cigarette. “You have no reason to be here,” he said, letting the smoke seep out between his words. “We’ve shown respect to this place. Do the same.” The figure swayed slightly in the wind, its branch-like limbs rattling softly. Without the campfire lighting the clearing, Carter might have mistaken it for nothing but another tree. [[Next|c46]]

He sighed and reached down to unbutton the cuff of his flannel shirt. “Let me rephrase that,” he began as he pushed the sleeve up to expose a tattoo that marked the inside of his forearm. It was a single, slender line of sigils that ran from the ditch of his elbow to his wrist and he held his arm up to show them to the creature. “You know who I am. We’ve shown respect, so do the same or I’ll turn you into kindling.” The creature did not move or react at first, except for a slight shivering of its limbs. And just when Carter was convinced that it was going to make itself a problem, it dipped its head to him and disappeared the same way it’d come. Carter let out a breath he’d been holding and began to readjust his sleeve as he walked back to $name and sat beside $himher again. He had just managed to rebutton his cuff, when the kid stirred. [[Next|c47]]

“Carter?” He glanced at $name and caught $hisher bleary, sleepy gaze. “What’s up?” he asked. “You all right?” $name blinked at him, barely awake. “Were you talking? I thought I heard something.” “Nah, must’ve been the wind or something,” he replied. He reached over to pull the sleeping bag back up around the kid’s shoulders. “Go to sleep. We have a long hike tomorrow.” [[End|Begin]]

You recognize immediately that you’re in a dream when you open your eyes and find yourself somewhere other than your bedroom. Instead, you’re laying in a soft nest of moss under the boughs of a willow. At least, it looks like a willow, but the whip-like branches are dotted with glowing, pinkish flowers that cast enough light to see by. You sigh as you force yourself upright and look around. You can feel the edges of the dream and how easy it would be to wake yourself, which is odd. You’re certain this is the Kestrel’s doing, but you’ve been given an unusual amount of liberty. You always manage to wake yourself, but it never comes readily. There’s always a struggle for it. You get to your feet and gently part the willow’s branches so you can step out into the open. You’re in a garden, but it’s a garden that’s grown wild. The hedges are untrimmed and the flowers have escaped the confines of their beds and spill into the grass. An overgrown, flagstone path follows the meandering flow of a stream that cuts through the heart of the garden. There are reeds growing thick and bountiful on the banks and lily pads with bright, iridescent flowers. The air itself is warm and heavy with humidity. It’s beautiful and, not for the first time, it occurs to you that the Kestrel seems to enjoy showing off. You know that $khisher powers are considered unique and special, even among the fae, and $kheshe seems to take every opportunity to flaunt them. [[Next|k31]]

To you, specifically. You’re not sure what that means, but in this instance, you don’t mind as much. In the past, you’ve told the Kestrel that there’s nothing to enjoy about dreams you can’t escape from—no matter how beautiful. Regardless of how the fae sees humans or how much like a spoiled child the Kestrel behaves, you are not in actuality a toy and you don’t enjoy being //made// to play along with anything. You’re willing to humor $khimher, but on equal terms. So this new freedom you feel to stay or go as you please does a lot to endear you to the prospect of staying—even as it makes you equally suspicious. Which probably isn’t fair. This might be the closest the Kestrel can currently come to //asking// you for anything. Treating what seems to be a gesture of good will as an inherent ploy isn’t really //fair//. Then again, if the fae wanted a fair shake at things, they probably shouldn’t have built themselves such a bad reputation. Still, you find yourself enjoying the tranquility of the garden. This is all certainly preferable to your usual dreams at any rate and the warm, humid air is a welcomed change to the frigid winter bearing down on Herman County. “Kestrel?” you call out somewhat tentatively as your path ends on one side of the stream and picks up on the other. A couple of stepping stones bridge the gap. You step lightly onto the first and then the next. It always manages to surprise you how real it all feels. Even knowing it’s a dream, you can feel the cool press of the stones against the soles of your feet and the sticky warmth of the air settling on your skin. “I know you’re here. And you can’t convince me you’re //shy//.” [[Next|k32]]

Usually provocation works, so you’re surprised when the Kestrel doesn’t show $kself. You hop from the last stepping stone back onto solid ground and continue following the path. This feels different than all of your previous meetings. You’ve always felt like prey when dealing with the Kestrel. You never really believed you were in any imminent danger, but you were also never really certain you //weren’t//. You were entirely subject to the Kestrel’s whims. And now… you’re not sure. You don’t really know what any of this means. Usually the Kestrel is eager to make $kself a nuisance, so $kheshe never waits this long to show $kself. It doesn’t feel like a game either. Is this the Kestrel’s way of letting you choose whether you wish to see $khimher or not? [[Next|k33]]

You’re curious now. You’re free to take the out, but you don’t want to. You walk on and the paved path gives way to dirt and then ends in a little clearing. Here there is nothing but tall grass and the naked sky. It’s breathtaking. And you’re somewhat surprised to find the Kestrel there as well. $kupperheshe lays back in the grass, $khisher hands folded behind $khisher head and $khisher eyes focused on some distant point in the sky. You hesitate, unsure of how to begin. The silence drags on a little longer, until you’re almost certain that you’ve somehow managed to sneak up on $khimher. Then $kheshe finally speaks: “Thank you for coming, Sparrow.” Whatever you were expecting, it was not this. From what you understand, the Fae never say “thank you”, as it implies that there’s a debt to be repaid and the Fae take debts very seriously. [[Next|k34]]

It’s an unexpected gesture of humility. And you’re not sure what it means, even as you sink into the grass beside the Kestrel. “I’m… you’re welcome,” you say. “Did… did you want something…?” Because that’s usually how this always goes. But the Kestrel gives a silent, barely perceptible shake of $khisher head and finally looks at you. “I wanted to see you.” It comes out almost like a question, like even the Kestrel doubts it. You don’t know how to answer $khimher, so you simply recline back into the grass and lay beside $khimher. Neither of you say anything, but you don’t think you have to. [[End|Begin]]

You’re still getting used to $rnamepos apartment. You’ve more or less settled with the liminal quality of it, the ever-shifting view out the window, and the weird deafness you feel, but the layout still gets you. Especially since some things seem to come and go at random. This morning, you’ve found the library. Granted, you didn’t even know one existed. You’d just thought to yourself that you might like to spend the day doing some reading—and bam. Even at just a glance, you get the impression that $rname spends a lot of time here, since it’s one of the few rooms you’ve encountered that //isn’t// spotlessly clean. There are books stacked on end tables, dog-eared pages, half-haphazardly scribbled pages of notes laying about, and rumpled couch cushions. It’s lived in. Used. You quickly realize why when you find $rname slouched in an armchair, $rhisher head tipped back and $rhisher eyes closed. $rupperhisher usually meticulous appearance is decidedly rumbled. $rupperhisher shirt is wrinkled and $rhisher hair is mussed. [[Next|r31]]

You pause to take in the unusual sight. There’s something weirdly intimate about it. Like it’s a secret you aren’t meant to know. $rname has a tendency to seem unflappable and cheerfully indifferent. That, combined with $rhisher always put-together appearance, and it’s easy to feel disconnected from $rhimher. Like you’re in the same room but still somehow a thousand miles apart. It’s intentional, of course. You’re no psychology major—or an empath for that matter—but five minutes and a thimble worth of perception is enough to pick up on it. It’s in the overly manicured appearance and the too-affectionate pet names. It’s in the playful condescension. It’s all meant to keep people at arm’s length. You understand that need for distance. Maybe better than anyone. But this goes beyond that. For all of the time you’ve spent together, you really don’t know all that much about $rname personally. $rupperheshe has mastered the ability to talk endlessly about absolutely nothing. You know a hundred useless, meaningless details, but nothing important. Nothing personal. [[Next|r32]]

On paper, you’re pretty evenly matched, all things considered, but you can’t really take any comfort in that. Because not being alone any more still feels pretty damn lonely. Which isn't $rnamepos fault, but it still stings. You glance around the library briefly before deciding you can just come back later. Maybe in time you’ll feel less like an intruder. [[End|Begin]]

It was a mistake. $zname is aware of that the instant $zheshe wakes up. Even before $zheshe registers the weight of another body beside $zhimher—before the memories of the night before come flooding back in. It was a mistake and $zheshe knows that—knows it isn’t fair. This will only hurt in the end. It //will//. But looking over at $name laying in bed next to $zhimher, makes it hard to remember all of that. The soft light of morning filtering in between the blinds and casting a hazy glow that makes the dust motes in the air sparkle, makes it hard to pull away. Just another hour. Another second. $zname isn’t given to fantasizing, but for just a second $zheshe wants to imagine it can stay this way. That life isn’t waiting just outside the door for them both. A life where this isn’t possible. Isn’t allowed. [[Next|z31]]

Carter’s done his best to keep them apart and he was right to do so. $zname knows that and it leaves a bitter taste in $zhisher mouth. $zupperheshe looks at $name again. $upperheshe moved in $hisher sleep and rolled over to face the other way. But even without seeing $hisher face, they appear peaceful—comfortable in a way that they never are when awake. With $zhisher eyes, $zname traces the curve of $zhisher bedmate’s neck and the shape of $hisher body under the covers. It won’t be long before $name realizes Carter was right. It won’t belong before this dream shatters and they’re forced to face the fractured, imperfect reality the dream leaves behind. $zname tentatively reaches out and touches $name, letting $zhisher fingertips drag down $hisher arm. [[Next|z32]]

$zupperheshe can close $zhisher eyes and remember every second of the night before. And the fact that is all they will ever have stings. Because if $zheshe lets $zself, $zheshe can imagine an entire future for the two of them. A future where the present doesn’t matter and reality can’t smother them. $zupperheshe slides a little closer and wraps an arm around $name, pulling $himher a little closer. Just another minute. Another second. $zname will do $zhisher duty when the time comes. When reality crashes back in. But here, in this bed, $zheshe just wants another second to savor the what-ifs and could-bes. Because that might be all they ever have. [[End|Begin]]

The Kestrel has been alive for a very long time. So long, in fact, that $kheshe doesn’t even remember the number to put to it. And unlike the Courts which have always shunned and isolated themselves from humans, $kheshe has always walked freely among humans when $kheshe has chosen to. Humans are such colorful things. So filled with nuance and so different from one to another. Crafters, artists, warriors, kings, peasants—$kheshe has met them all. Fae are immutable. Unchanging. They differ from one to another individually, but they do not change or grow over time. And such constancy is one of the tenets of being fae. It is not a self-imposed restriction, but a natural fact. An inescapable reality. And for most that is simply the way of it that they never question. And years ago, the Kestrel was also content. There was constancy in $khisher inconstancy. That the neverending search for something new was in itself an immutable thing. And hardly a rare one. Many fae—most, in fact—were driven by an insatiable, self-centered hunger. But others found fulfillment in the pursuit itself. [[Next|empty1]]

The Kestrel didn’t. Couldn’t. No matter how $kheshe tried to convince $kself otherwise, $khisher cup was never full and every attempt to fill it left it emptier than before. The gnawing, aching want that was $khisher lifelong companion was $khishers alone. There was no peace to be found in acceptance, but the Kestrel had stopped fighting the battle a long time ago. The mindless pursuit of temporary pleasures was easier than searching for an answer. In //that// $kheshe found a measure of contentment. And then the Sparrow… [[Next|empty2]]

At first, they were just a thing of curiosity. Something new to focus upon and then forget when the newness inevitably wore off. When the luster gave way to tarnish. Except it hadn’t. Months later and it was just as entertaining to pester the Sparrow as it had ever been. $upperhisher sharp tongue and cutting words were a new thrill each time. The Kestrel didn’t really know how to confront the realization at first. The Sparrow was not the first human to ever capture $khisher attention—not even close. But they were the first that incited more than carnal want. It was enough to simply be in $hisher presence. And in itself was something new and foreign. And frightening, in a way. But even the sinking, sick feeling of fear was its own pleasure. Its own new thing. The Kestrel had started this game between them as the hunter. Now, $kheshe had no idea where $kheshe stood. And it was a thrilling unknown. [[End|Begin]]

You’re not really sure if what you and $rname do could be considered “dating”. Mostly because you’ve never applied that label yourselves, but also because most of the time you spend together is on the job. Or doing something vicariously related to your job. There’s a lot of flirting, obviously, but you’re pretty sure that alone doesn’t mean you’re in a relationship. You’ve had talks that have somewhat alluded to it, but nothing concrete. You know part of it is $rnamepos hesitance about it. $rupperheshe hasn’t explained it all in full, but $rheshe has said enough. Being an empath makes it a little too easy to get emotionally invested in people, which in turn makes partings especially painful. To you, it sounds like $rheshe learned that the hard way, but you’ve never pried into it. There’s no point in making $rhimher relive the pain. [[Next|pa2]]

You get the feeling sometimes that $rname is waiting for you to make the first move, but you don’t know why. It’s not like you have some storied history of such relationships. You don’t have the same emotional hang-ups that $rname does, but it’s just as hard for you to get close to people. Being able to catch glimpses of the darkest parts of some people before you’ve gotten to know them makes it kind of hard to get to know them. Barring that, some people are just too loud. Even if what you pick up from them is harmless, it’s still overwhelming. Which might be why you’re drawn to $rname to start with. Like Carter, $rname has the mental wherewithal to block any inadvertent attempts to read $rhimher. You’re still not sure how Carter learned how to do it, but $rname has told you that it was a necessity $rheshe picked up when $rheshe was very young. That is all to say that you’re both sort of frozen in limbo, unsure of how to proceed. [[Next|pa3]]

“Could you not burn our dinner, kid?” You jerk back to yourself and look at Carter, who’s standing at the counter chopping vegetables. You’re supposed to both be cooking, but you’ve mostly been staring into space instead of monitoring the burger patties on the stove. He nods at the stove, his eyes on you even as he continues to chop. Since getting more acquainted with Carter’s reputation it’s harder to ignore. Carter’s always been a little too good at some things—usually things that involved tracking, knives, and guns. As a kid, you never thought to ask why. You quickly grab the spatula to flip the steaks, cringing a little at the sight of them. Calling them “browned” is probably a little too generous. Still, they’re edible. [[Next|pa4]]

“So, what’s bothering you?” Carter asks offhandedly. You sigh and turn the burner down a little. “Nothing.” “Uh-huh,” he murmurs, casting a doubtful side-eye your way. “Does it have something to do with $rname?” You know that your face has probably already given you away, but the lie comes instantly. “No! No, it’s just… I’m—” “You’re a shit liar,” Carter replies. “You realize that I don’t have a problem with $rhimher, don’t you? I mean, as far as stupid choices go, you could be dumber.” You sigh, though less out of relief and more exasperation. It’s kind of your fault, you guess. You should’ve known that you couldn’t slide anything under Carter’s radar. “Yeah, thanks,” you mutter. “And it’s… I mean, I know you don’t like $rhimher—” [[Next|pa5]]

Carter waves a hand to cut you off again. “I find them //annoying//. That’s different,” $rheshe says. “If they make you happy, that’s all that matters to me. Hence my concern, because you don’t seem all that happy.” You shake your head. “It’s not that. I guess I just don’t know where—if this is going anywhere.” “Then ask.” You roll your eyes. “It’s not that easy.” “Yes, it is. You’re just a coward.” You glare at him, though you’re sure it looks like pouting. “So according to your advice, I should just jump $rhimher and see how it plays out?” you ask dryly. [[Next|pa6]]

Carter snorts and brings the cutting board over to sweep everything off of it into the pan. Then he leans against the cupboard, facing you. “You’d get your answer, wouldn’t you?” “...You know, I’m starting to realize why you don’t date.” He barks out a laugh. “Neither do you,” he shoots back before giving you a frank look. “It’s obvious enough to me that $rheshe likes you. Granted, $rupperheshe has some hangups, but you should know all about that.” “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s the hangups causing this problem,” you grumble. Carter snorts. “Then fix it.” “‘Hey, you got pneumonia? Fix it! Depression? Just be happy! Anxiety—?’” [[Next|pa7]]

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” he cuts in, with a wry smirk. “Look. If you and $rname can’t even get past this first hurdle then it’s probably a good idea to reconsider the whole thing. I’m shit at relationships, but I’m pretty sure talking to each other is fairly important.” You sigh again. The worst part is that you know he’s right. Whatever Carter lacks in tact, he makes up for by seeing things a lot clearer than you do. “I’ll try.” “Whatever gets you to stop moping. I’m going to start cleaning up. Don’t burn the rest of our dinner.” [[End|Begin]]

The meeting place is quite the hike from Port Gillain on foot. While the foot trail is something you and Carter could have walked easily in a couple hours, you don’t have that kind of time. And it probably wouldn’t be smart to face the fae while already exhausted, anyway. So instead you pack up Carter’s old jeep and the four of you take an adjacent off-roading trail, which whittles your walk down to just under a half-mile. When you arrive, everything is quiet. And warm. It catches you completely off-guard as you step out of the snow-dusted treeline into spring itself. There are even wild flowers dotting the ground and the rustle of the leaves shivering in the breeze. It feels almost like this little patch of woods is cut off from everything else. Like you’re in a different place entirely, even though you can see with your own eyes the clear boundary between the snow and the green undergrowth. [[Next|sp]]

Carter sticks close to you, his shoulders curled and his eyes sharp as they dart around the clearing. He’s been tense and quiet all morning, which you don’t blame him for. He hasn’t told you how he earned his reputation among the fae, but the details probably don’t matter much in the long run. Carter’s unease is perfectly understandable. “Do you hear that?” Carter asked. “I don’t hear anything,” $rname replies. “Yeah. Exactly.” You were too amazed by the strange transition into this green haven to notice it at first, but you realize quickly that Carter is right. Despite looking to be full of life and beautiful, the clearing is dead silent. It’s a startling contrast, even to the winter you just left behind. Despite the snow on the ground, you still heard the rustle of rodents and the calling of birds all throughout your walk. [[Next|sp1]]

Now, you can’t even pick up anything with your extra senses, which is your only warning before it happens. You spot movement out of the corner of your eye and turn your head sharply toward it, shocked to watch a fae step out of thin air into the clearing. They’re quickly followed by a dozen others, forming a little procession of glittering, silken fabrics and polished armor that splits and spreads out around the clearing until the last soldier steps away revealing a woman walking at the end of the procession. She is stunningly beautiful, like living artwork. Her skin is a warm, alabaster white flecked with constellations of golden freckles and her hair is fiery red and nearly long enough to drag upon the ground. It is woven into braids, decorated with feathers, ivy tendrils, and flowers. Her eyes are dark and large, like a doe, and her lips curve into a gentle smile that feels patently insincere. She waves a hand and woody vines immediately burst out of the ground and weave together to form a throne that flowers as the woman takes a seat. And only then does she acknowledge any of you. [[Next|sp2]]

$rname and $zname seem to bow on reflex. But Carter doesn’t, even as the woman’s eyes fall upon him. “Balor,” she says. “It was an unexpected pleasure to hear from you.” You can see Carter visibly struggling not to roll his eyes. “Yeah. This wasn’t part of the plan.“ The fae hums in amusement and then her attention turns to you. Outwardly, her expression doesn’t change, but her eyes seem to sharpen and she gives you a bored once-over. “I see that no one thought to teach you proper etiquette in the presence of your betters.” [[Next|sp3]]

You raise your eyebrows at the sharp turnaround, but before you can formulate an answer, Carter cuts in: “They’re mine.” The fae clicks her tongue, as if disappointed by something. “You //have// changed, Balor,” she says. “Guess so,” Carter replies and something about his tone challenges her to say something more about it. Instead, the woman’s smile widens a little. [[End|Begin]]

Carter made himself a lot of promises after retiring from MAB. Mostly, he just swore an end to that life. He didn’t look back at his career with a sense of pride or accomplishment and there were some regrets that still nagged him daily. People who got hurt. People //he// had hurt… Moving to Herman County had been a chance at starting over. Granted, MAB had cut him loose, which ostensibly left him vulnerable to the rogues gallery he’d collected over the years by doing //their// dirty work, but he’d take it. Plenty of people wanted him dead, but that’d been the case since he was a teenager. However, his plans changed fast upon deciding to take in a teenager. And while it was true that playing “dad” was never on the agenda, he’d made a choice and hell or high water he was going to do what he could. Even if it ultimately meant opening some old doors he’d hoped would just stay shut. “You know, when I received your note I thought it had to be a prank.” Carter turned toward the sound of the voice and spotted $rname descending the glass and wrought iron stairs from the apartment’s loft. It was eerie how $rheshe looked the same as $rheshe had when they first met, while Carter was noticeably going gray. “Trust me, I had no intention of ever contacting you again,” the former agent said. [[Next|c51]]

$rname pouted at this, but quickly shrugged it off. “It must be something big then,” $rheshe said, crossing the living room to a minibar in the corner. “Would you like something? I know you don’t drink, but it’s polite to ask." Carter made a face. “These days, it’s tempting to say yes.” $rname shot him a noticeably surprised look. “I thought retirement was supposed to be blissful?” “Maybe if I hadn’t gone and lost my damn mind.” Carter rubbed his eyes, like he could wipe away his exhaustion. “I… adopted a kid. Well, it’s not technically an adoption yet, it’s just a foster placement, but…” He finished with a shrug and then looked at $rname just to see the $rgender staring at him in disbelief. “What?” Carter demanded. $rname blinked a few times. “I’m sorry. If I wasn’t positive that a doppelganger would have set off my wards…” $rupperheshe made a valiant effort to visibly shake off $rhisher surprise. “What possessed you to //adopt//? Shouldn’t you have started with—I don’t know—a goldfish or something?” “It’s not an adoption—” Carter stopped himself and sighed. “Nevermind. It gets worse.” “//How?!//” [[Next|c52]]

Carter sucked in a deep breath, letting his weight lean against the back of the sectional sofa that took up the center of the living room. “The kid… they’re a psychic.” $rnamepos brows rose a little. “Are they…all there? If you need the name of a facility—” “No, no,” the cop cut in, waving a hand. “They’re— it’s not like that. They’re healthy—stressed out, sure, but they’re definitely all there. In fact… they’re the strongest psychic I’ve ever seen.” $rname raises an eyebrow. “Strong how?” “They’re off the charts. Prescience, telekinesis, psychometry, retrocognition, ESP—and those are just the things they just //do//. They haven’t had to train or work for any of it.” For a moment, $rname seemed to be genuinely taken aback. “That’s… you know how exceedingly rare it is to have multiple gifts. Well, to have multiple gifts and all of your faculties.” “Yeah, obviously,” Carter retorts. “I’d expect anyone else to be brain-fried from all of that, but they already know how to block a lot of interference out on their own. They still struggle with a little psychic bleed, but…” He raked both hands back through his hair and sucked in a deep breath before looking back at $rname. “I came here because I know psychics are fragile. So, how do I protect this kid from their own brain? If I was still in MAB, I’d do my own digging, but— ” “But telling anyone about it puts the child at risk,” $rname cuts in, nodding. “Especially telling MAB. I understand. How old are they?” [[Next|c53]]

“Thirteen? That was the doctors’ best guess.” $rname paused, $rhisher mouth open as $rheshe stared at Carter. “I’m…. I’m getting the sense that there are a lot of details you’re leaving out of this—but nevermind, we’ll go over that later. First things first, it’ll be easier for me to do an evaluation if I meet—” “//No//.” Through their years of working together, $rname had become well-acquainted with Carter’s reputation. So $rheshe knew damn well what that tone meant. And it was surreal, to say the least. The Jacob Carter in $rnamepos memory was a lot of things—smart, dangerous, //terrifying//—but not //fatherly// . But that was definitely the only word for it now. And $rname wasn’t sure that someone as dangerous as Jacob Carter needed a reason to be even more dangerous, but $rheshe supposed that put the child in question in safe hands. “Then I… I will do some digging,” $rname said. “Unfortunately, if what you’re saying is true, then it doesn’t seem like they would benefit from any advice I could give at a distance. Are they in any immediate danger?” Carter shook his head. “No. Like I said, they’re stressed, but it’s nothing that’ll push them over the edge—I don’t think anyway. Anything I should do in the meantime?” [[Next|c54]]

$rname blew out a long, thoughtful breath as $rheshe tucked $rhisher hands into $rhisher pockets. “I… give them space? Maybe look into adopting a pet? Animals can be good focal points for psychics. Healthy eating, regular exercise, consistent sleep—those are all said to contribute to it too.” The retired agent made a face. “I gotta cook?” “I’m not saying you need to be a gourmand, but something green and less like salted, microwaved cardboard might be a good place to start.” Carter rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Fine.” $rname raised $rhisher eyebrows. “Really? Just like that?” “Well, I volunteered to take care of them. That means this shit too, doesn’t it? And I’ve seen psychics snap. It’s not pretty.” Carter’s words come with a shrugging kind of resignation and $rname struggled to contain $rhisher surprise. “I… suppose it does.” Carter’s concerns about secrecy were probably entirely valid, all things considered. That said, $rname couldn’t think of a single person who knew Carter who wouldn’t laugh uproariously if $rname told them Carter had adopted a kid. The only reason $rname $rself didn’t think it was a prank was because it was coming from Carter’s own mouth. Even then, $rheshe didn’t want to entirely rule out the possibility that $rheshe had hit $rhisher head on something. [[End|Begin]]

Driving lessons weren’t really something Carter was looking forward to. On one hand, it’d be convenient not to have to drive the kid around anymore. On the other, he was stressed enough on a daily basis without worrying about his teenager ending up in a ditch somewhere. Herman County was overall a pretty quiet place, but he’d seen plenty of careless drivers get scraped off the highway. Still, it wasn’t something he wanted to ruin for $name. Driving was a rite of passage and it wasn’t something he wanted $himher to be afraid of. The only thing he could do to control the situation is to be the one making sure $name learned everything $heshe had to. And for the first hour or so, everything is fine. The weather is bright and sunny, the air is warm, and they had the roads all to themselves. Carter’s glad in retrospect that he caught it in time, that he saw the moment the kid’s whole body locked up and $hisher eyes became unfocused. He knows immediately what’s happening and unbuckles his seatbelt to slide across the bench seat. He kicks the kid’s foot away from the gas before hitting the brakes and guiding the car to a stop on the shoulder of the road. $name goes limp and slumps against Carter’s side, $hisher eyes still wide open and unfocused, even tearing up as $heshe stares unblinkingly forward. [[Next|c61]]

Carter puts an arm around $himher and gives $himher a gentle shake. “C’mon kid,” he says, tapping his palm against the kid’s cheek. They don't respond. It’s not the first time he’s seen the kid completely disconnect from reality because of a vision. Thankfully, it’s not something that happens very often by accident. The kid’s managed at least that much control. It’s more just an ugly surprise that pops up when they’re stressed. Carter sighs and settles in. The visions never last very long and there’s no point in trying to snap the kid out of it when they’re in this deep. $rname even recommended against it. A few minutes pass. And then a few more. Then $name suddenly jerks, like waking up from a dream, and $hisher eyes flutter, blinking rapidly. “What—Carter—what—?” [[Next|c62]]

Carter removes his arm from around $himher and encourages $himher to sit up. “Welcome back,” he says. “Take a breath.” $name nods, even as tears roll down $hisher cheeks. At first, Carter thinks it’s just from how dry $hisher eyes had gotten staring into space, but he quickly realizes it’s real, emotional distress. He doesn’t know what to say, but he reaches out to put a hand on the back of their neck, rubbing it gently. “Must’ve been a bad one,” he says, after a few moments of quiet pass. “Take your time.” “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” $name admits quietly. “I think processing the memories of every random asshole you come across is enough of an excuse,” Carter replies. “You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to.” $name shakes $hisher head. “No, I have to. I just need a minute. Do you have a pen? I need to write something down before I forget it. The memories fade so quick…” Carter frowns but reaches into the glove box for a pen, which he hands over to the kid. [[Next|c63]]

$name sits back and starts scribbling on the back of $hisher hand. They’re about halfway done when they finally speak. “Her name was Marianne Williams.” “Whose name?” “The woman who died here.” $name glances out the window and points. “That’s where they found her body.” Carter leans to look around $himher and spots a wooden cross pounded into the dirt on the side of the road. It looks old, like it’d been there for a while. And something about it jogs his memory. “I remember that case,” he says, frowning. “Her family found her and her injuries indicated a hit and run…” He frowns a little and looks back at $name. “You saw that? Kid…” They shake their head. “I’m okay. It’s already fading, like I said. The feelings don’t linger.” Carter's not sure how much he believes that. [[Next|c64]]

He wants to argue. Because $name has described enough of $hisher visions to him that he knows how vivid they can be. But at the same time, he can’t strongarm them into talking about it. Would that even really help? “Did you see who did it?” he asks. $name raises $hisher hand to show the numbers and letters written on $hisher palm. “I have the license plate. It was a black truck. The driver was white. Had long hair. I’d know him if I saw him again.” Carter nods. “We’ll deal with that later,” he says. “Right now…” The teenager cuts him off: “I’m not going to be able to drive, am I?” Carter sighs and rubs his palm over his mouth. “I still want you to learn—for practical purposes. But maybe as you get a little older and you can control it a little better…” He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to. While there aren’t a lot of things that the kid’s powers outright make impossible for them, there are always challenges. There always will be. And it’s hard to find a balance between coddling $himher and asking too much. There’s no clear path forward and maybe that’s the most frustrating part about it all. Carter was already in over his head on a daily basis by agreeing to the whole “parent” thing, even without adding the supernatural to the equation. “Are you okay to drive back?” Carter asks. $name seems to hesitate and then glances over at him. “Maybe?” He nods. “Then let’s head back to town and if you need me to take over, just let me know.” [[End|Begin]]