Honestly, if you'd asked me "How many times would you have to ride on a sphinx's back before it became old?" I'd have said half-a-dozen, at least. But this was my second time on Lujayn's back, and I was kind of getting used to it.

I mean, she wasn't running at the moment, just... trotting, I suppose, trying to find the address that Lyssa had written down in her fancy handwriting.

When Bunny and I arrived back at the Council building, we'd found Molly and Lyssa having a huge argument over, by the sound of it, nobility and privilege.

I tried (very nervously) to do some Assisting. By telling them, for example, that it wasn't the time for the council to be arguing among themselves. I'm pretty sure I got that off a TV programme, but it seemed to work. For all that Lyssa always called me "Human Rosemary Dulahan," she was at least glad to have someone to bounce ideas off.

The situation was this; two people murdered, 'properly' murdered, not a pub fight or whatever a 'certified killing' was. We were assuming by the same person, because it was literally worse if there were two trophy-taking murderers loose.

I had asked why – sad though it was – why we actually cared? It was Terat Guard business, surely. 

"Because to criticise the Terat Guard," Molly had said, "is to criticise the Servitors Martial, and to criticise them is to criticise to Dynast Martial, which is to criticise the Dynast Prime. Which is a terrible idea. We're a much safer target for people's ire."

So we crafted a press release. Mostly me, actually. I was beginning to think I might be alright at this. Lyssa wanted to put in a lot of promises to 'vanquish evil' in her slightly LARPer manner of speaking. Molly wanted it to be a diatribe on Terat politics and a plea for intersectional solidarity. Bunny wanted to say sorry a whole lot. Luckily, Astrid and Cassandra weren't there, so I didn't have to listen to whatever weird ideas they had.

I managed to put together a release that just said that we were supporting the Terat Guard (yeah, yeah, ACAB – but also job). That we'd keep an alert eye on the situation. But otherwise, the text hinted, don't blame us. Oh god, was I becoming a politician?

Lujayn was padding through narrow, deserted streets now, looking for Cassandra's house. I'd have felt nervous if I hadn't been on the back of a sphinx.

"I'm surprised terats are so concerned about murder," I said to Lujayn, a bit thoughtlessly. "Well, I mean, obviously they're concerned, of course, but more so than humans would be."

"People are always worried we might be going back to the old ways, before the Dynast Prime took over," said Lujayn, over her shoulder. "Murder all the time, then. Not even just 'certified killing', but full-on murder all the time."

"Okay, what's this 'certified killing'? Lyssa mentioned it too," I asked.

"Oh, traditional stuff. Like areas where vampires hunt, say."

"Oh…" I said, looking around.

"Don't worry, they are very well signposted," said Lujayn. "And mostly on Terat proper. The last thing they want is humans going there for 'adventure'."

Oh god, I could think of half-a-dozen YouTubers who would definitely make that a priority.

"But, yeah, there are rules, but vamps, or werewolves, or sirens, can hunt you in the certified areas," Lujayn said. "Or like, as a sphinx, if you failed to answer a riddle, I'd be tradition bound to eat you."

"What?"

"Relax. I'd have to get your sign off before asking you a riddle," said Lujayn. "And I like you, so I'd ask you an easy one."

"Um, no riddles, thanks," I said.

Lujayn chuckled. "I think this is it."

After we had finished the press release, Lyssa had sent me to check on Cassandra. She had, apparently, gone home 'to do magic' but often got distracted. I complained that I had been going to head back to my mum's to get some stuff. Lyssa said, airily, that she'd get some staff to do that. Well, I didn't know how my mum would handle that, but I supposed we would find out. 

Bunny was going to catch-up with Astrid. She – Astrid – had a pack member in the guard, and so might be able to get a more detailed picture of what was going on. Oh, Astrid was a lycanthrope, by the way.

Bunny gave me a secretive smile and wave as I headed out to catch a rickshaw. Luckily, I ran into Lujayn, popping into the Folly to check what all the activity was about. She offered me a lift.

"Um, how do we get in?" I asked. The place – a pretty nice detached 1920s house – was suspended a storey high, on columns of growstone, over a mushroom garden. There were no stairs or ladders; I could not see an entrance at all.

"Hold on tight," said Lujayn. "I don't enjoy flying with a passenger. Got to stay level." 

I grabbed hold of her grey fur. It was slightly longer around her neck, not like a lion, more like a fancy house cat.

Lujayn beat her wings strongly; the displaced air for each wing would have swept me off, had they not been balanced. As it was, I got dishevelled from two directions at once.

Carefully level, Lujayn circled, until we saw a balcony on the second storey. She lowered herself onto it carefully; there was only just enough room, avoiding a metal chair, and planters full of flowers. I slipped off her side again, absent-mindedly patting her.

"I'm going to go," Lujayn said. "I'm not sure this balcony is rated for sphinxes. See you at work."

She took off, a dextrous dart of wings now that I wasn't on her back. 

I waved, then turned to face the glass doors into the dark house. I think I was allowed to be slightly nervous. 

I knocked on the door. Twice. No response. I tried the handle; it turned. I made my way into the dim room, careful not to trip over anything.

"Er, hello?" I said. "I'm not a burglar. It's Rose from work."

"Hello ma'am," said a voice in front of me, quiet and serious. I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Miss Cassandra is busy and does not wish to be disturbed."

I took a step back, involuntarily. My eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. There was a figure in front of me, some faint odd glows in the dimness.

"Um… sorry, has the electricity gone, or…" I said.

The figure suddenly moved to the side. There was a click, and a small desk lamp glowed a feeble yellow.

Oh, it was Cassandra's maid. Well, I assumed maid, because she wore a Victorian style long maid's dress. Could have just been Terat fashion.

"Sorry, ma'am," she said. "Neither Miss Cassandra nor myself require as much light as a human."

I felt vaguely like I was being criticised for being an illumination slut.

I hadn't got a good look at her before, in the – also badly lit – council chambers. She was definitely not human, but in a fairly subtle way. Her ears were kind of frilly, and her skin was slightly translucent, allowing veins and arteries to show through, as well as a faintly luminous patch on each cheek. 

"Er, I am here on council business," I said. "I need to talk to Cassandra."

"She's busy. And once she's worked herself up to it, she will be out…" she trailed off. "Wait. Miss Lyssa sent you to her?"

"Um, yes."

The maid grabbed my hand. "Oh, that is much better. Yes. I'll take you to her." 

The maid pulled me towards a staircase. Her hand was wet, not with sweat, but with cold, brackish-smelling water.

"You're Cassandra's… um, maid?" I asked, slightly breathlessly, as we were climbing a long, badly lit, spiral staircase.

"Yes, Miss Rosemary," she said. "Our family has served hers since the days of the Moonset Purges."

Right. I had no idea whether that was ten years or a thousand. Set myself a mental note to Google it.

"People just call me Rose," I said.

"Yes, Miss Rosemary."

"Um… I notice that your hand is wet?" I said.

She snatched her hand back. "Sorry, Miss," she said, quietly. I wiped my hand on my skirt.

We had reached a corridor – yes, dark again – and a door. She rapped softly. 

"Come in, Zabiya," said Cassandra. "I need your help with my eyeshadow."

"Miss Cassandra," said the maid, Zabiya, "I have Miss Rosemary with me. Miss Lyssa sent her for you."

I wasn't one hundred percent sure about that description. 

"Oh," said Cassandra. "Well, come in then."

Surprisingly, the room was a lot brighter than the corridor. This was mostly due to the tall, open window through which two sets of moonlight – Earth and Terat – shone in, but also some soft lighting around the table, where makeup cases were open.

Cassandra turned around in her chair. She was wearing a black bra and panties. I averted my eyes, of course. Black feathers and white skin.

"Um, hi," I said.

"Zabiya, would you mind making us both some coffee, please?" said Cassandra. 

"Of course, Miss Cassandra," said the maid, and left.

"Lyssa sent you?" Cassandra asked.

"Yeah, she said that you often got distracted when doing magic. So I was to assist you."

Cassandra snorted. "Bloody Lyssa. It was her idea, you know? That I perform a seeing ritual, try to find out anything about the murders. As if the Guards don't have professional soothsayers."

"She does," I said, "seem rather… earnest."

"Self-important is more like it," said Cassandra. "And always trying to be the hero, as if that would cause people to forget her family. Anyway, Zabiya almost certainly has the wrong idea. Do you do makeup?"

It took me a few seconds to untangle the three separate things she was talking about. "Er, yes, I think so," I answered. Honestly, makeup is a typical trans girl worry, but I'd had enough lessons from cis girls, more experienced trans girls, and YouTube to feel fairly confident when doing my own.

"Do me," said Cassandra, using her clawed foot to turn another chair towards me.

"Um…"

"Makeup is troublesome," she said, holding up her wings and 'hands'. At the midpoint of the wings there were smallish hand/claws; two curved fingers and an opposable nub.

I sat down, moving the chair closer. "So, eyeshadow?"

Her palette was mostly greys, and black, though midnight blue and a desaturated purple added a tiny bit of colour. I listened to her instructions and started off with the base coat.

Zabiya came back with the coffee; a neat carafe and elegant cups. She placed it on a side table and served us; black and two lumps for Cassandra, loads of milk for me.

"Miss Rosemary," Zabiya said, "I usually do Miss Cassandra's makeup; do not trouble yourself."

"It's alright," said Cassandra. "Rosemary is doing it now. You can have the evening off."

"It's no trouble…" Zabiya began.

"Go on, Zab," said Cassandra. "I promise I'll ring if I really need anything."

"Yes, Miss," she said, doubtfully, and left. 

"You don't mind, do you?" asked Cassandra. 

It was a bit late to ask that now, but I shook my head, no.

"Zabiya works too hard," said Cassandra with a sad smile. "It's good to be able to give her a bit of free time."

Hmm. I nodded, working on sweeping the dark colour across the upper lid. Cassandra liked her makeup dramatic and gothy, in contrast to my own light and femme. I was nervous as hell, but Cassandra seemed trusting.

"I also want to hide it from her that I am going out tonight," she said. "Since she got the wrong end of the stick when you said Lyssa had sent you, assumed it meant I wouldn't be heading out. Did she get wet?"

Again, I had to take a moment to unscramble what she was saying. "The brine? Yes. What was that?"

"She's a deep sea nereid," said Cassandra. "It takes a considerable amount of spells and rituals to make them able to live on land permanently. To suppress a vast quantity of watery essence. Sometimes, when she's happy, it slips out. I made her laugh once, flooded the living room."

A soft note had entered Cassandra's voice. I hmmed to myself.

"So, what does she think Lyssa sent me here to do?" I asked.

"To fuck me," she said. I nearly dropped the brush. "But don't worry, domme sees domme. I need someone of the correct disposition for the ritual."

I'm more of a dommish switch actually, but decided not to introduce that complication.

"No," said Cassandra, "so now I have to go down to Earthgate Street, which Zabiya knows depresses me, and try to find someone who is not too annoying to fuck with. But they are likely to all be monster ticks, anyway."

"Monster ticks?" I said, confused.

"Worse than monsterfuckers," she said. "I mean, you're a monsterfucker, you like monsters. You slept with Bunny, didn't you?"

"Er, yes."

"What was she like?" 

"She's very sweet, and funny, and sort of clever…" I said.

"Yeah, not 'sexy slime monster, uh hot wiggly jelly action'," said Cassandra. "Because you're not a tick; you actually see us as people."

"Oh," I said, "A tick is a chaser. A person who fetishises what you are."

"Exactly."

"Well, I’m glad you don't see me as-"

"It's the minimum possible compliment, Rosemary, not something to be proud of," said Cassandra. 

"And it's sex magic?" I said. "I mean, the reason you're going out on the pull."

"Obviously, yes," said Cassandra.

"They… the ticks, they do live?"

"Hells claws, Rosemary, I'm not a sex murderer!" Cassandra snapped.

"Sorry, sorry," I said, "Lujayn was telling me about 'certified killing' and…"

"Oh, my ancestors totally would have," she said. "But even then, scoring out a human's still beating heart was for luck, not part of the ritual."

"Right," I said, nervously. "Er… your eyes are done."

"Lips next," she said, gesturing to some lip gloss and primer.

"Right," I said, taking up the primer. She didn't reply, which made sense. It felt very intimate, applying primer like this. Her lips, partially open, were captivating. Then dark lip liner, trying to keep my hand steady. Finally, lip gloss in a dark plum shade, deep and full. 

"Okay," I said, making the last stroke, "I can… um... spare you the trip to Earthgate Street, if you want."

"You will fuck me?" she said.

"Sure," I said. "I mean, I'm better than a tick."

"Hmm, I thought you were a domme?"

"Mostly, sure, but not hard," I said. "Um… a hard domme, that is. Not that… anyway, bit of a switch."

"It's harpy sex magic, I need to be in charge," Cassandra said. "You confident I won't get any dommy bullshit from you?"

"No," I said. "I'm actually more of a-"

"I don't care," Cassandra said. "I just need to know you won't interrupt the ritual with some pointless argument."

"I won't," I promised. "I mean, obviously-"

"Yes, obviously, you still get to consent."

"Okay."

"Good," she said. "Take your clothes off."

Part of me really wanted to ask her what was wrong with saying 'please', but I mastered it. Dommy bullshit. I stood and began to undress.

"Good girl," Cassandra said, pushing herself back in the chair to watch.

I had the normal moment of panic when I pulled my panties off; she had to already know I was trans, right? She wouldn't be funny about me having a cock?

She showed no surprise, just a half-grin and a calculated gaze. 

She stood. "Come here," she said.

She kissed me. I was a little taller than her, so she tilted her head up, and kissed me on the lips. The soft, satiny-ness of her dark lips was not a surprise; I'd just put lip gloss on them, after all. I remembered that I hadn't sealed or blotted, but I suppose there was no harm in a bit of messiness. Me wearing a mark of hers would get me into the right headspace.

"Has the ritual started?" I asked, as we broke apart.

"No, that was just…" she said. Her lipstick was smudged. "Anyhow, undress me."

I reached around her, under her wings – which she raised up – to unhook her bra.

"Does Zabiya normally do this?" I asked. "Help you get undressed, I mean?"

Her breasts were small and, well, neat. Her nipples were a lovely rosy pink that didn't really go with her colour scheme.

"Normally."

I crouched and pulled her panties off. I guess she probably could have done this, but you know tops. She balled up each taloned foot as she stepped out of it. As I expected, she didn't have even a tiny girldick, but the alternative is as good, in my opinion.

"Not that I am complaining at all," I said. "But why don't you get her, Zabiya, to perform the ritual with you?"

"Rosemary, I'm her employer!" Cassandra said. "This isn't Earth; we take consent and coercion seriously!"

"Okay," I said, standing up. "But you are kind of close, personal, with some of the tasks-" 

"Yes, her job!" Cassandra said, agitatedly. "Her job is not making love to me. I would embarrass her, and both mine and her families if I requested such a thing."

Hmm. "Sorry, just asking questions. I don't know how things work here," I said. "I mean, aren't you my boss, one of them, technically?"

I mentally slapped myself. What was my plan: get us both naked, and talk her out of sex?

"The council employs you; we're more like co-workers. And you volunteered," said Cassandra. "But obviously if you've changed your mind-"

"No," I said, hurriedly. "I just talk too much when I'm nervous. Pointless questions."

She smiled and kissed me again, a delicate, chaste kiss.

"You should talk less," Cassandra said.

"Fair."

"Right, we need to go to the roof now," she said.

"The roof?" I said. "Outside?"

"I don't know where humans put roofs," Cassandra said, "but, yes, on Terat they go outside. There's a flat section where I have a ritual space."

"But…"

"I thought you weren't going to make pointless arguments?" she said. "Go and stand in the window; I'll carry you."

On the one hand, I should have made some more enquiries before I made that agreement, on the other hand, Cassandra was beautiful, so it probably wouldn't have made any difference.

"Take some cushions off the bed," she said.

The window had a tiny balcony. I stood on it, cushions almost hiding my modesty, but still hoping that the people of the street didn't look up.

Cassandra moved behind me, and then up, over my head, a beating of dark wings. She grabbed me under the arms – talons pressing but not piercing – and lifted me easily. Briefly, I wondered what the death report would look like if she dropped me; naked, splattered, and covered in cushions. It was like university all over again.

She placed me carefully on the flat section of roof, then spun down in front of me. I wondered now – too late – how she'd managed to lift me, hell, how she'd managed to lift herself, let alone fly so acrobatically. Cassandra's wings were large, but to lift two humans they should have been at least thirty-five feet across. Luckily, this time I worked out the obvious answer before embarrassingly asking the question. "Magic," I mumbled to myself.

Cassandra gave me a quizzical look. "Yes, obviously, we're here to do a spell."

The flat rooftop was square-ish, with some planters of flowers at the corners. The floor was inscribed with a circular design of runes and sigils. A summoning circle, I thought, or some form of magic circle, anyway. I'd like to claim this insight came from learning in a dusty and eldritch library, but the truth was my mum loved Buffy reruns. We were standing on it, so I presumed that meant it was safe.

"Put the cushions anywhere," said Cassandra.

I still clung to them. "It's a bit cold," I said. Thank god it hadn't rained recently.

"Hang on," said Cassandra. She started intoning stuff in a language I didn't recognise; which basically meant something other than Phoenician, English or GCSE French. It was harsh, but also somehow beautiful. 

The inscribed lines began to glow pale red, and it grew warmer. But also more visible. Although this house was the largest of its neighbours, I didn't like the idea of people looking up at the rooftop sex-beacon. I dropped the cushions and sat down.

"In the old days," said Cassandra, "this would have been done on a windswept cliff top, by a turbulent sea. Icy spray needling the bodies, a lightning storm charging the air."

"People today are such snowflakes," I agreed.

Cassandra chuckled. "Are you ready?" she said.

"I think so," I said.

"Good. Lie in the centre of the circle," she instructed. 

"Do we need some protection?" I asked, scooting myself into position, arranging cushions.

Cassandra gestured around. "Magic circle," she said.

"No, I meant not from… evil spirits, but, like, babies?" I said. "I mean, the hormones I take have probably… and I don't know the harpy, um, genetics, but-"

"Magic circle," she repeated.

"Okay, sure. Well, in that case, are you absolutely certain that I'm not going to be consumed by a ravening horde of evil spirits?" I asked. 

"Only if you continue to ask stupid questions," said Cassandra, with a smile. She moved to stand above me. She was beautiful. Maybe some people wouldn't have liked the talons? I thought they were cool. Sharp black knives in powerful claws, legs covered in small feathers – black with a raven-shine – before fading out to her pale skin. Her wings were even more abrupt, a burst of feathers on her pale shoulders, and then full black wings with the iridescent shine. 

Cassandra half-grinned at me, obviously realising that I was looking at her. 

"Arms by your side," she instructed.

She dropped to straddle me, beating her wings so that it wasn't a hard drop. I felt each talon take a wrist, encircling it, not tight but solid.

Bending forwards, wings sweeping over my head, she kissed me again. Harder and more passionate, tongue darting in. Her breasts grazed mine.

Another beat of the wings, and she moved her mouth to the crook of my neck. Licking and sucking, her tongue tracing over my arteries. A tiny nip. I caught my breath.

"Scared, human?" Cassandra whispered into my neck.

"A little," I admitted. "Also hard."

She laughed, and kissed my neck; lots of tiny kisses. Another flick of her wings, and her mouth was on my breasts, her groin pressed into mine. She kissed my breast, more little kisses, then nuzzled and licked at my nipple. A teasing bite, holding my nipple between her teeth, running her tongue across it. I groaned.

She released my nipple, looking rather smug, and flapped backward, lifting her hips. Her cleft landed on the underside of my girlcock, rubbing against me, wet and getting wetter. Then she rose again, off me for a second, but coming down on me, enveloping my girldick, slowly, wings beating, until I was fully in her. She paused; I started to thrust, but she wasn't having it, letting me take more of her weight until I simmered down. 

Cassandra raised her wings, threw her head back, and started speaking in that strange language again. I was still rigid inside her. You might think that I'd find it off-putting, but my first t4t encounter was with a girl who'd do Rick and Morty voices while playing with my girl Pickle Rick. Spooky spell-casting was so much better.

After the intro or whatever – I don't know spells – was done, she started to move, voice quieter now, repeating a phrase. She started slowly, and I let her set the pace; no dommy bullshit from me. She oscillated her body, a sinuous movement, sliding up and down my girldick; I thrust gently in accordance with her timing. Her soft chant was becoming hypnotic.

She gradually sped up; I'll be honest, I wasn't sure of the time frame – it could have been hours, but was probably minutes. All I knew was that we were moving in synchronisation, me thrusting into her; her beating her wings, then getting heavy again. Her voice became breathless, then hoarse, but other voices seemed to have joined the chant. I was fairly sure there was static electricity in the air, but it's possible that I couldn't trust my senses anymore. Certainly my girldick felt like it was a well-lubricated pivot in some cosmic machine. That Cassandra and Rose were parts of that machine, destined to interlock and drive each other, to smash together harmoniously. 

Cassandra's speech turned to gasps. Her wings quivered. As she came down hard, I orgasmed and-

***

What?

Where was I?

There were lights in the darkness. No, numbers. Well, maybe, I couldn't read them, but they seemed to be counting up, or down. A clock? No, a meter. I was in a taxi. It was getting lighter, or my eyes were adjusting. Sort of. The figure driving the taxi was still shadowy. I got the sense that we were travelling at speed, so I hoped they could see better than me. Outside was mostly black, but with occasional silvery hints of cogs and escapements. Oh, Cassandra was beside me.

"Rosemary?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "Where the fuck are we?"

"The visionscape, The Mechanism Numinous, obviously," she said. "But I wasn't expecting you. It's very rare for humans to come here."

"Does that mean I have some magical powers?" I asked. "You know, latently?"

"No, it just means that we reached completion together," she said, with an affectionate smile. "The ticks are usually already done by then."

"Yes!" I said, doing finger-guns. "I am good at sex."

She rolled her eyes. "Remember that thing about speaking less?"

"So it's like a dream? The visionscape?" I said.

"If dreams could leave you with major psychological damage, yeah," she said.

"I'm trans. I went to high-school," I said, a little scared. "That's just normal dreams to me."

I looked outside. We seemed to have stopped, but with no sense of slowing down. The shadowy driver seemed to have gone.

"Did you get cold?" Cassandra asked, gesturing at me.

"What?" I looked down. Whereas Cassandra was still naked, I was wearing an overlong multicoloured scarf. This was embarrassing. 

"When I was an egg," I said, "a trans girl who didn't know it, not an actual egg, sorry if that's offensive, I thought that developing a fandom of a long running sci-fi serial would be a suitable substitute for a personality… well, for the huge gap inside me."

"But it wasn't."

"No," I said. "Turns out I just needed to admit I was a girl. For some reason, developing an encyclopaedic knowledge of seasons 12 to 18 seemed easier. Anyway, the main character wore this for a while, until he changed."

"It's very weird," said Cassandra. 

"Trans stuff?"

"No, human fandoms," she said. "Odd. But it must have some meaning for you to bring the scarf here."

"Its meaning is that I can make even a trip to The Mechanism Thingamabob embarrassing," I said. "So, um, what do you do here? To find answers, I mean?"

"Explore," said Cassandra, putting her hand on the door lever. "Look for clues. Remember and consult the codices later. Are you ready, Rosemary?"

"I prefer just Rose," I said. "And yes, Cassandra, I guess so."

"Cass," said Cassandra, opening her door. 

Really ought to have that conversation before sex, I thought; it's mildly ridiculous afterwards. I opened my door.

We were in some sort of enormous room, made of stone blocks, pillars visible on the distant wall. Honestly, I wanted to say dungeon or even tomb, but that was probably bad luck.

The taxi squealed away, kicking up sand from the flagstone floor.

"So where-" I began, but paused. The taxi was doing a three-point turn, and then sped up, toward us.

"Um…" 

Cassandra took off, grabbing my wrist in her claw, and pulling me up. I had to pull up my legs so the taxi didn't hit my feet. It passed under us and began circling.

Cassandra wheeled and flew a circuit of the room. It was big, but featureless, except for a single door in one side.

"I guess that's the way to go," said Cassandra. She lured the taxi to one side of the room and then darted towards the door. I was dropped a little before it, and she landed before the door. It was a rather generic-looking mediaeval door, iron bars and massive nails.

It was also apparently locked, refusing to open when Cass pulled the handle. Instead, a circular glyph appeared, glowing red. 

The taxi had turned around.

"Should I try?" I asked. I didn't want to be ablest about Cassandra's puny hand-claws, but also didn't want to be run down by a supernatural taxi. The eternal SJW dilemma.

"It's a locking glyph," she said. That didn't sound good. 

She made a few passes in front of it with her wing. I didn't want to hurry her, but I was aware of the taxi rapidly approaching.

The glyph dissolved. Cass pulled open the door and bundled us through into the passage beyond. The taxi slammed into the doorframe, and stayed there, revving. The inside of the taxi was dark, shadowy.

"Is that normal?" I asked, as Cass and I backed into the passage.

"What?"

"The taxi trying to get us," I said. It was still revving aggressively.

"Rose, we don't normally get a taxi to the visionscape," said Cassandra. "That's an Earth thing you've brought with you. But, yeah, things do sometimes try to kill you."

"Cool, cool," I said.

The passage was long and dimly lit. Dimly lit from nowhere, thinking about it. We walked on, pleased at least that the taxi's revving was getting quieter.

Then we hit another door, spookily similar to the first one. I tried to pull it open, but, again, a red glyph appeared instead.

"Another lock?" I asked.

Cassandra nodded again, making the passes with her wing. "But, again, the worrying thing is: we're on the right side of it."

She opened the door cautiously. It was another passage; we went through.

"A basic locking glyph," said Cass, "such as those, only really secures from one direction. If we'd been coming in the other direction, it would be next to impossible. But from that side, anyone could undo the glyph."

"I couldn't," I pointed out.

"Okay, yeah," agreed Cass, "I meant anyone who had sat through a twenty-minute video of Magic: Do's and Don'ts."

We'd reached another identical looking door. Cassandra undid the lock glyph, and we carried on.

"So this seems like a lot of doors to stop something escaping," I said. "Something that we're heading towards."

"Want to go back?"

"Okay, no," I said.

"In the real world it would be a concern," said Cassandra, "but here it is possible it's metaphorical."

Another door. Cass removed the glyph. Another passage.

"A metaphor for what?" I asked. "Being extremely bad at dungeon planning?"

We hit four more glyphed doors in series. We were both getting a little irritable.

"Can you teach me to do this one?" I asked.

"What?" said Cass, "Because things aren't slow enough already?"

"You said it was easy," I said. "Unless you're saying humans are stupid…"

"Humans are stupid," she said. "But very well."

She showed me the movements to undo the glyph. I repeated them. The glyph did not undo. She corrected me. This went round an embarrassing number of times, but eventually… I made the hand movements, and the glyph disappeared. 

"Yes!" I said. "I've done a spell, I am-"

"A counter-spell," said Cassandra. "It is a lot easier."

"-Gandalf the Gay," I muttered.

The door opened onto… the same bloody passageway. I had really hoped that me unlocking it would do something.

I tried the next door; it took two tries, but I definitely was getting better at it. More identical passageway.

Next one. Got it first time. Passage again.

Next one. Unlocked the glyph, barely thinking about it. And… not passage?

We emerged into a large room, or maybe not a room, maybe a courtyard, given that it was open to the sky. A huge chunk of glass, or maybe crystal, dominated the courtyard, the size of a small house, in the centre. It was transparent, though full of chromatic reflections and refractions.

"Rose!" Cassandra said, grabbing my arm. "What's happened to me?"

I turned. The hand that had grabbed my arm was a human hand, attached to a human arm. Cassandra's wings were gone, replaced with human arms. I felt a shock of body horror on her behalf.

"It's terrible," she said, panic in her voice. It did look wrong. I mean, they were fine human arms, but I got it. My old body would have been fine too, if I'd been a man.

"It's probably a metaphor," I said.

"A metaphor for what? Not having fucking wings?" she said, then calmed down. "Oh, right, probably that. For not having your usual capabilities."

"Right," I said, looking at the sky a couple of storeys above us. "I've got a feeling that we're meant to go up."

I tentatively touched the glass. Cold and solid. I walked around it, looking for a place to climb. Nothing.

Cassandra shouted. She was on the floor.

"What?" I yelled.

"Sorry," said Cass, pulling herself upright. "I tried to fly. You know, in case it was an illusion."

"But it wasn't," I said.

Cassandra shook her head, not even having the energy to make fun of my stupidly obvious statement.

I jumped up a couple of times, trying to soar; I did not soar.

"Right," said Cassandra. "Let's think. Neither of us can fly. The walls are unclimbable. The glass is the same?"

I nodded.

"Your scarf isn't long enough, or strong enough, even if we had a grappling hook, which we don't," continued Cass.

I looked around for, well, anything. I mean, this was a visionscape, not a 90s adventure game, but I was rapidly reaching the click on absolutely everything stage.

Cass stood. "What is it the Machine Numinous wants us to learn from this?"

"Employ a certified architect before you begin building?" I said.

"Remember what you said about…" Cassandra stopped. She had been walking around the glass, and part of it was somehow in her hand.

"I just touched it!" she said. The piece in her hand was vanishing, no, liquifying, dripping down to the floor. I hurried across and tried, but to no effect; it still felt like solid glass to me.

Cassandra took another chunk out. Larger this time. It came away easily, and quickly dissolved, splashing liquid up Cassandra's legs.

"It's just water, I think," said Cassandra. "I think this is just ice."

Well, ice and glass have completely different textures and appearances. But I suppose it was The Machine Numinous and not The Machine Pedantic Application of Physics.

"You reckon we, you, should melt it all?" I said.

"Can't see anything else to do," said Cassandra, tearing off a chunk.

Pretty soon we were standing in a thin layer of water. Then ankle deep. In fact, it didn't take much of Cassandra's efforts; as the upper parts of the glass/iceberg sloughed off, they would touch the water and begin melting themselves. A bit of this and the water was up to our chest and rising.

"Do you think there's enough water here to get us out?" asked Cassandra.

"I don't think that makes any sense at all physically," I said. I looked at the volume of water compared to the volume of ice. "But, yeah, I think it might."

"I'm a harpy; I'm not a very strong swimmer," Cass said.

"I'm a trans woman; me too," I said. "Hold on to my scarf, and we'll try to keep each other afloat."

The water level continued to rise, the iceberg collapsing into itself. We paddled together and rose towards the bright open air.

***

-I think she did too, as her gasps became a scream. The chanting had stopped. We rode together for a few more thrusts, purely on inertia. I was tired, tireder than even six months of sex in a day would account for. With a weary wingbeat, Cassandra climbed off my softening girldick, and collapsed on top of me.

When my powers of speech returned, I said, "Did you get that, the dream?"

I felt Cassandra nod into my shoulder. "I am sorry you have arms," she said. "It's terrible."

"What does it mean?" I asked. "Do you know who the murderer is?" 

"No," she said. "I need to consult the codices. Give it some thought."

"Right," I said, "because it didn't make a lot of sense how-"

Cassandra put a finger/claw to my lips. "Quiet now," she said, shuffling her body on top of mine. The dim red light of the circle gave the roof a cosy feel. Her warm wing over my chest. The midlander in me was saying don't sleep naked on roofs, but since that would mean actually getting up, I let sleep take me. 

"But," murmured Cass, distantly, "you're pretty fun to do a ritual with."