Marcus grabbed his suitcase and carry-on out of the rental car he and James had picked up at the airport.  Utah was hot and dry, even in September, and all Marcus wanted was to get out of the heat and back into some comfortable air-conditioning as soon as possible.  James already had his luggage and was heading into the hotel they had picked to get them registered.  It was a scorcher out, at least to his Canadian constitution – easily well over what Marcus would consider seasonal, and he wanted to get cool again.  I hope this bastard we’re looking for is worth it, he thought. I’m not sure what exactly we can do – but at least we can try and prevent another clinic massacre, right?

 

            By the time he dragged his luggage out of the car trunk and slammed the trunk shut, James was already inside the foyer and getting in line to confirm their arrival. Two people were ahead of James – a bored looking woman in her mid thirties, waiting for the Concierge to finish with a phone call, and a tall, thin black man who look tired and impatient, much like James and Marcus.  The plane trip from Toronto down had been grueling – the flight was only supposed to be six hours, but the two detectives had spent an additional two hours on the tarmac waiting for an unknown delay in taking off. Two layovers and a plane transfer… damn. I’m tired, I’m overheated, and I don’t want to wait in line, Marcus thought, rather crankily.

 

            The other people took care of their business with the concierge and James finally was able to confirm their rooms – each of them had a room to themselves, with an adjoining door between them for when they wanted to confer.  James had wanted to share a room to save on the expense, but Marcus valued his alone time too much.  I did offer to help James pay for it, if he needed it though. Maybe that helped? What the hell does he spend his money on anyway?  He isn’t married – neither of us are.  Where does his paycheck go?  I guess it’s really none of my business.

 

            Soon, the two detectives had their room keys – 312 and 314, and were headed up in the hotel elevator.  James turned to Marcus, and sighed. “We’re actually here. Weird.” 

 

            “What’s weird?  The fact we crossed half a continent to find answers, or the fact those answers might involve wizards, monsters and other worlds?”  Marcus asked.  “Cause frankly, I think it’s the latter. Common sense would have been for us to drop this case weeks ago – and god knows neither of us did, or could.  Face it, James – we’re part of one of your weird conspiracy theories now.  Is that good or bad?”

 

            James thought for a moment.  “I honestly don’t know.  I always imagined myself busting open some big government secret, or discovering ‘the truth’ – whatever that is – and now that I’m getting the chance, all I want to do is pretend it isn’t real and forget about it – and I can’t.  I’m scared, Marcus.  I’m scared because if it is real, if there really is magic and monsters and other worlds, I don’t know where the rest of my life will be going.  Everything I took for granted will be wiped away in an instant – and I don’t know what will fill that void.  I guess if I had to explain it, that’s why I’m scared.”

 

            Marcus nodded, as they reached their floor.  “I’m worried too, James.  It’s so damn screwy – too screwy to believe – and yet the pieces are all falling together.  I feel like I might be losing my mind – but I can’t let it go.  You know, I kind of owe Erica my life.  If I hadn’t left the scene of the Clinic to pursue him in the stolen cop car, I’d probably be dead right now.  I don’t know what to think about that, I really don’t.”

 

            “Yeah.”  James was quiet for a moment.  “I hope this gives me some closure – some way to heal over what happened to Thomas.”  Thomas was James’ younger brother, a police officer who had died at the Neilson Clinic about seven weeks ago. The loss was still a gaping wound in his soul, chafing at him from the inside.  If it doesn’t give me some closure, I really don’t know what I’m going to do, he thought.

 

*           *           *

 

            The two Detectives entered their respective rooms, and started unpacking their stuff, giving Marcus a few minutes to think and reflect.  It doesn’t really matter if Christine’s story was true or not, as weird as it being true might be – he literally HAD to know.  He could feel it gnawing in his gut like a hungry beast.  If I don’t find out the truth on this one, I might as well call it quits – It’ll eat me up if I don’t.  Maybe it’s time to take an early retirement?  Marcus shook his head in frustration.  What am I doing?  This case is just screwing with me.  I don’t even know what I’d do if I retired…

 

            It’s time to call Joanne, he thought. She’s head of Homicide in Salt Lake City, and it’s been years since we last saw each other.  Marcus couldn’t help but remember the last time he had seen Joanne – they had been working together on a cross-border case in Toronto with her chasing a killer that fled to Canada, and they had hit it off nicely.  Joanne was a serious cop, but she really knew how to have fun when she needed to relax – something Marcus never quite managed to figure out.

 

            Marcus was jarred from his reverie by a knock from James’s door.  Here I am, woolgathering again.  I’m getting old.  “Coming!” he called.  He walked over and opened the door between their rooms.  James came in, and sat down on one of the two beds opposite Marcus.

 

            “Now what, boss?” James asked.

 

            “I’m going to give Joanne a call over at SLC Homicide and see if she’s up for a get-together this evening.  Reconnect, and maybe let her know what might be going on in her neck of the woods pretty soon.”  Marcus said, thinking.  “I’ll be telling her the edited version, of course – but even the non-crazy version of our story has enough behind it to look into.  You want to come?”

 

            “Yeah, why not?”  James answered. “I hear you and she hit it off once.  Any chance it’ll happen again?”

 

            Marcus thought about it a moment.  “I doubt it, James – but I guess anything could happen.”  Marcus wondered if him hitting it off with Joanne would be a good thing or not, and he couldn’t decide.  She was great to be around - fun, sexy, good sense of humor – but she sometimes didn’t take work as seriously as Marcus did.  Maybe that was her strength and his weakness, but for Marcus it sometimes was a problem. 

 

            “Hrmph.”  James muttered.  “Well, you might as well call her then – I’ll be good to go in about an hour.  I need a quick shower and shave.”

 

            “Good enough.”  Marcus replied, reaching for the phone.  “I’ll give her a shout.”

 

*           *           *

 

            Marcus and James relaxed at their table, waiting for Joanne. Marcus wore tan slacks, a shirt and tie, and a dark brown blazer, while James wore jeans and a polo shirt.  Marcus was sipping his first Caesar, while James was half done a frosty bottle of domestic beer.  They had been sitting and waiting for about 30 minutes – Joanne had been delayed by work – and a partially destroyed appetizer of fries and gravy sat between the two of them.  

 

            “We can’t tell her the real story.”  James said, out of the blue.

 

            “Duh.”  Marcus grinned.  “Hell, I’m not even sure I believe it – I wouldn’t expect her to believe it too.”

 

            “I’ve been doing some thinking, though boss.” James said, a bit thoughtfully.  “Maybe magic is real – maybe we just don’t see it cause we have other explanations.  You know, like Alien abductions – maybe these people are teleporting somewhere and getting freaked out by what they see?  Maybe that lady who picked up the car off her kid had magic, not adrenaline?  Maybe it’s been all around us for all this time and we’ve been too blind to see it?”

 

            “Seriously, James?”  Marcus asked.

 

            “Well, either that or you and I are going collectively crazy?”  James added.  “There is literally no way that girl calling herself Erica and the others could have appeared like that at the Eaton’s Center and then jiggered all of the video footage I pulled from those seven stores, without knowing which exact moment and camera I would want to see.  So if teleportation is real, then either it’s magic or something like it, or it’s some sort of technology masquerading as magic – or you and I are stark raving mad.”

 

            Marcus had to agree, it was pretty unlikely that someone would even bother to try altering the video on the Eaton’s center by itself, let alone several other stores.  It was unlikely, but possible – and that last little shred of ‘it could be done’ was what was making it so hard for Marcus to make that last leap of faith – to say ‘yeah, magic could be real.’  I don’t know if I could do it even if I had proof, Marcus thought. I wonder.   “Yeah, maybe.”  He said. “But even so I’d rather it was sci-fi than fantasy.”

 

            “Huh.  I don’t know what I wish.  I think the possibilities magic could bring to the table would be both terrifying and exciting, good and bad.  I’m not sure what I’m hoping – other than that you and I get out of this alive.”

 

            “Amen, brother.”  Marcus said, swigging his drink.

           

            A few minutes passed, and Marcus saw Joanne arrive.  She was wearing an office dress – stylish and professional, while being undeniably feminine. She looked tired, but relaxed, and oddly enough had a little less silver in her hair than she did when they last saw each other.  She must have just come from work, Marcus thought.  She always did work too hard – like me.   The Waiter directed her over towards his table, and Marcus waved – and she waved back, coming over.  Marcus stood up to greet her.

 

            “Hey, Joanne,” he said, opening his arms. 

 

She approached him, and embraced him in a quick hug, then released.  “Hey to you too, Marcus.  Long time, no see.  What brings you to my neck of the woods?  Is this your partner?” 

 

Marcus turned to introduce his friend.  “Joanne, this is my friend James.  He’s on the job too.  James, this is Joanne Fenway. We met about twenty years ago at a police symposium, and have been friends ever since.”

 

Joanne made a shocked face.  “Marcus! You’re making me sound like an old woman!”

 

James stood, and offered to shake her hand.  “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Nice to meet you, too.” she said sitting down. “So, how have you been Marcus?”

 

“Pretty good, overall.”  Marcus replied.  “Same old, same old.  How about you?”

 

Joanne smiled.  “You know, Marcus – the usual bullshit.  You know bosses – only a few of them have brain cells, after all.”

 

“Tell me about it.”  Marcus said, snorting. 

 

“You caught me by surprise with your phone call a few days ago, Marcus.  It’s good to see you again.  So were you two mixed up with that mess north of Toronto?”  As she spoke, a waitress brought Joanne her drink – a double-shot of Johnny Walker Black.

 

“You might say that.”  Marcus said grimly.  James’s younger brother was killed in the massacre, and I was lucky to escape.  Oh fuck, it was like nothing you’ve ever seen – it was totally FUBAR.”  Marcus’s hand shook at the memory and sweat beaded his forehead… He raised his hand for the waitress. The memory of seeing all those paramedics and firefighters and police torn to pieces, dead, outside the clinic still haunted him.  It would haunt him till the day he died. 

 

“Damn right.” James said.  “We need more booze.”  They called the waitress over and ordered fresh drinks…

 

“How bad was it?”  Joanne looked worried for her friend.  “You both look rough.”

 

“It was pretty bad, Jo.”  Marcus began.  “Forty first responders dead on the scene, torn to pieces by something we never saw.  There were no explosives used – not like the TV said.  If I hadn’t left the scene in pursuit of a witness, I’d be dead now too.”  Marcus finished.  “It was a bloodbath.  The medical examiner had never seen anything like it, even at a plane crash.”

 

Joanne winced, and placed her hand on Marcus’s for support.  “So you took some time off?”

 

“Kind of.”  Marcus gave a wry smile.  “We took time off, yeah.  Officially the case is closed – the whole thing’s been blamed on Al Queda, and nobody wants to hear anything about it, but we’ve found seemingly unconnected incidents which lead us to believe that a religious nutjob who goes by the name of Vargas Elm is somehow the one behind it all, and he’s coming here with his people.”

 

Joanne went pale and took a swig of her drink…

 

Marcus continued.  “…Look, we don’t have any hard proof – but there’s a trail of seemingly unconnected bodies and information that he’s heading here.  This guy Vargas is supposedly Middle Eastern in origin, but there’s no record of him, anywhere.  Nobody’s ever heard of him before, or his group either.”

 

Joanne looked at Marcus with a questioning expression on her face.  “Then why the fuck is he coming here?”

 

Marcus sighed.  “We don’t know.  We could be totally batshit crazy and wrong – I hope we are.”

 

“What’s the guy look like?  What’ve you got on this guy.”  Joanne asked.

 

“All I’ve got is this.”  Marcus said, pulling out a police sketch. “We had a witness who saw him, and she sat down with a sketch artist.  This is all we’ve got.”

 

“Shit, I’ll tell my guys and put this out on the street – we’ll keep an eye out for him.  I’ll contact my friends in the Mormon church and see if they know of any whack-jobs headed this way.  They keep tabs on all the weirdos.” 

 

            Everyone sighed, and took a breath.  Marcus took a swig of his drink.  “What about you, Jo?  Any cases that are driving you up the wall?”  Marcus asked.

 

“Oh hell yes!”  Joanne laughed; glad the tension of a moment before had broke.  “We’ve had a hell of a time the last five months stalking this one particular serial killer…”  Joanne proceeded to tell Marcus and his friend about her case, and the three friends chatted and gossiped for hours, the tales and stories of work and play rolling off their lips.  It was very late at night when they ended their get-together, and headed back home and to their hotels in cabs.

           

*           *           *

 

            For Erica, the next two days were a blur of fatigue, driving, tolls, and exhaustion.  The road maps declared the distance between Toledo, Ohio and Salt Lake City a twenty-three and a half-hour drive, which should be coverable in three eight-hour days – but what Erica was quickly finding out was that didn’t account for bad traffic, construction, meals, bathroom breaks and gas stops.  By the end of a day, she was clocking almost 12 hours a day and was completely exhausted by the time they found a hotel each night.

 

            Erica’s Mercian friends were also feeling more than a bit wretched, none of them ever having become used to cross-country travel where they were required to sit still and do nothing for hours on end.  Sir Andred and Maeve felt the worst, but even Kai was feeling miserable by the time Erica pulled off the interstate into a gas bar outside Kimball, Nebraska.

 

            “I need to stop for gas – so anyone who wants out to stretch, you’d better do so.  It’s a full day or more to get to Salt Lake City from here, so we’ll need to grab a hotel in Cheyenne when we get there… Only another hour or so, and then we can rest and eat.”  Erica pulled up to the pumps at a gas bar, and turned off the engine. 

 

            “Thank the gods!”  Maeve exclaimed, stretching and opening her car door.  The rogue and spy stretched her limbs and loosened her muscles – and all around the car, the others were doing the same.  Sir Andred, in particular had found the trip taxing.  His muscles were sore, and Maeve suspected he was suffering from what Erica and Christine called “Arthritis”. 

 

            Kai’s nose wrinkled at the smell of spilled gasoline and car oil in the air.  I still hate the stink of it, he thought.  Erica’s world has so much wonder and so much filth it’s mind boggling.  I literally don’t know how she and her people stand it…  I don’t have the heart to tell her half the time I feel like I’m choking.  “Can we get a drink or something while we’re here?”  he asked.

 

            “I don’t see why not.” Erica answered.  “If anyone needs the washroom, go ask the attendant for the key.”

 

            “I will do so.”  Sir Andred said.  “I find that as my age increases, the time between trips to relieve myself are becoming shorter, which is most inconvenient.”

 

            “It would be nice to stay young, wouldn’t it Sir Andred?”  Maeve asked.

 

            “Aye, I suppose – but then we wouldn’t have the wisdom that age and experience brings, and I suppose people would still squander the time they had like they do now.  Perhaps we have so little time given to us so that we cherish the time we do have all the more?  It is an interesting conundrum, my friend.”  Sir Andred smirked, and headed to the gas bar kiosk to ask for the restroom key.

 

            Maeve smiled back, and looked in the purse she had been given.  I think I have enough money to get us some drinks. “I’m going to go get some drinks for us,” she said, pointing at some soda vending machines.  Maeve personally found most of the sodas that Erica liked drinking to be far too sweet or far too bitter; she much preferred iced tea or fruit juices.  Sir Andred liked the root beer, as did Kai, and Erica liked something called Diet Coke.  And here I thought you got coke from coal mining?  I guess that shows what I know of Erica’s world!  It does taste vile, though.  I don’t know how she can drink it.

 

            Maeve walked over to the soda machine and tried to determine which picture and image would get her the drinks she wanted.  I’m getting better at reading this gibberish, she thought.  If it wasn’t for Anvi’s amulet helping me learn their writing as well as their words, I’d be at a total loss.  I really need to get him these amulets back when we return to Mercia…  Maeve struggled with the buttons, and put in coins for what she thought was Iced Tea, then Diet Coke, and then two Root Beers. Two drinks came out – the root beers - and then a little yellow light came on saying ‘out of order.’  

 

            “What’s wrong with you?”  She muttered.  “Where’s my drinks?”  Dammit, she thought.  I must have broken it.  I’ll be damned if I’m getting back in that car for another hour without a drink to take with me.  Maeve looked around to see if a solution presented itself.  There were no other soda machines – but she could see something called “Caleb’s Beer & BBQ” about a block away.  I’m sure I could get a drink there, Maeve thought.  I’d better see if the others are ready to go or not.

 

            Maeve looked over to the car, and saw that it was left abandoned.  Erica must be paying for the gas, and the two boys are probably walking about or using the washroom.  I guess I’ll be right back then.   She took the two sodas she had been able to purchase, and set them in a small cooler in the front seat of the car, and then headed to Caleb’s Beer and BBQ.   I’ll just be in and out in a flash, grab some drinks, and use their bathroom and then we’ll hit the road.  What’s the worst that could happen?

 

*           *           *

 

Maeve walked over to Caleb’s, and entered the front door, feeling the cool, clean air-conditioned air wash over her.  I don’t care about most of Erica’s crazy inventions, but Air Conditioning is something we have to figure our back home as soon as we can… Maeve thought. This is so damn decadent.  The pub inside had a number of booths and some tables, a bar where a rather bored balding gentleman was chatting with two burly and slightly overweight men drinking beer, and a few tired looking waitresses carrying orders to and from the tables with patrons.

 

“Looks like a normal pub, for the most part.”  She muttered to herself, before she entered the rest of the way.  The cool air and the sound of music playing on one of Erica’s people’s strange artifices made the dimly lit barroom seem comforting and nice, rather than dingy or perhaps dirty.  She liked the ambiance. 

 

First things first, she thought, and headed to the ladies bathroom.  The idea of having a separate bathroom for men and women intrigued her – it wasn’t an idea often imitated on Mercia.  Most people who had to use the bathroom were too busy well, using the bathroom, to consider ogling anyone else or doing anything inappropriate.  After all, everyone, man and woman had to go sometime.   She took a few moments and did her business, cleaned up and returned to the bar feeling rather refreshed.  That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about back home usually – not being able to stop while travelling to pee.  I can see the lure of cars, but they have their downsides, she thought.  That and they cost a bleeding fortune. 

 

Maeve walked up to the bar, and waited, trying to get the bartenders’ attention.

 

“Hey miss, what can I get you?”

 

            “I’d like an iced tea and a diet coke to take with me, and a beer for right this moment.”  Maeve replied, sitting on one of the bar stools.

 

            “Domestic or Foreign?  Bottle or on tap?”

 

            “The kind that comes in a glass.”  Maeve said.  “It doesn’t matter, really – I just want a drink.”

 

            The bartender nodded, and poured her a beer, the frosty mug showing a nice head as he placed the amber beer in front of her.  As she picked it up and gave it a sip, he grabbed a small bottle of iced tea and diet coke from a cooler, and put them down next to her.  “That’ll be 12.50.”  

 

            Maeve nodded, and took some money out of her purse.  Odd.  There’s no twelve dollar bills?  She thought.  I’ll have to give him a twenty and let him keep the rest.  Erica said money isn’t really anything to worry about, after all.  She threw a twenty on the bar.  “Keep it,” she said.

 

             The bartender nodded his thanks, took the cash and went back to work and Maeve sat quietly for a few moments drinking.  The beer was different from the brews back home – less yeasty and more fruity, with tastes she couldn’t quite identify.  It was rather pleasant, actually.  Her eyes casually watched the exit’s behind her in the mirror behind the bar with practiced ease, so she wasn’t surprised when a man that had been watching her enter, sidled up beside her – what did surprise her was how rudely and arrogantly he grabbed her left buttock and squeezed it.

 

            “Hey, baby.”  The voice said.  “I like the way you look – how about you and I spend some time together, huh?”   The man was in his mid thirties, strong – but thick around the middle, like he hadn’t exercised in some time.  He smelled of beer and cigarettes and something Maeve couldn’t identify, and he distinctly gave her an unpleasant feeling.  His clothes were nothing special, and didn’t really indicate anything about him to Maeve, although she realized she might not ‘get’ the clues from his garb that Erica or Christine would have noticed.

 

            “How about you remove your hand and kindly fuck off before I remove it for you?”  Maeve politely said in return.  “I just want a quiet drink, okay?”  Maeve sighed to herself.  I just wanted a beer, she thought, and this drunken asshole has to come and ruin it.  I’d better be gentle on him – Erica will have kittens if I rough him up… And I don’t want Sir Andred thinking I’m setting a bad example.

 

            “What the fuck did you say to me, bitch?”  The sweaty man said, his voice rich with anger and shock.  He moved his hand from Maeve’s buttock, and reached up to grab her hair and yank it down – but she wasn’t there…  A little dumbstruck, he saw Maeve slip off the barstool, and grab his arm.  The next thing he knew he was screaming and his arm was on fire, his forehead had blood dribbling down it, and he was on the floor. 

 

            Maeve sneered at the man on the ground.  At least he won’t be grabbing anyone with that arm for a long time.  She thought with a small grin.  They tend not to work so well once you bend them backwards at the elbow.

           

            She picked up her beer and finished what was left of it in two gulps.  The man on the ground was screaming something – and just as predicted two of his buddies, who were equally thick about the middle got up to probably try and teach her a lesson.  Seriously, these drunks never learn.  It doesn’t matter what world you’re on, I guess. Oh well.  I’d better go easy on them.

 

            One of the two men – a brown haired man with a thick mustache and a brown jacket – growled, and got ready to advance on her.  “You’re in a lot of trouble, missy.”  He said.  “You just bought yourself a world of hurt.”  The other man – this one a sandy haired blonde, opened his jacket and motioned to a dark colored pistol on his belt.  “You better get on your knees and apologize to us properly, right now, bitch.” 

 

            Like hell I will.  Maeve thought.  “Your friend touched me without my permission.  Is that not against the law?  I asked him to remove his hand and he attacked me.  Is that how people behave here?”

 

            “Get on your knees, bitch!”  the blonde haired man growled, and took a step forward, grabbing for the pistol.

 

            Maeve didn’t think – she reacted – her body moved, and grabbed the arm he was shoving at her and broke it, just like she had done to the first man.  He clutched his arm, screaming, and staggered over to the bar – and patrons everywhere in the bar dove for cover.  She whipped around, still moving on instinct, grabbing mustache’s wrist and twisting till she heard it snap, then kicked him hard in the knee.  She heard it snap as well, the soft cartilage of the knee folding under her kick.  He crumpled too, screaming.

 

            I guess learning Anorian hand-fighting all those years ago was a good idea, she thought with a smirk.  It does help, but I really prefer my short sword.  I think Erica and Christine would be proud of me – they’re still breathing after all…  “I should probably go.” She said, mostly to herself, grabbing the bottle of iced tea and soda off the bar.  As she looked around, she could see several people holding up cell phone devices, pointing them at her.  Why are they doing that?  She wondered, until one waitress came up to her, looking a little afraid.

 

            “You okay, ma’am?”  She asked.  Her name tag said Brenda, Maeve thought. 

 

            “Aye, I’m fine.” Maeve said, smirking. “Have a good day, miss – sorry for the mess.”

 

            Maeve made it halfway to the door before two officers in uniforms, their badges clearly showing, and guns drawn, blocked her path.  They were clearly on their guard – and could clearly see the three injured men screaming and moaning across the room. It was equally obvious they thought she was responsible. 

 

Oh hell.  Erica is going to have kittens after all.

 

            “Get down on the ground now!”  One of the new officers said.  “You’re under arrest.  Get down now, or we’ll fire.”

 

            Maeve looked at them, considering her options.  I can take them, she thought, but Erica is going to freak out worse than Christine ever did that I dismantled some police.  Maeve snickered mentally at the mental image of Erica literally giving birth to a litter of kittens.  I’d better surrender, she thought.  Some of their bullets might hit other people.  “All right, officers.  I surrender.”  She said, and knelt down, with her hands on the ground, and bottles of soda nearby.  I hope I’m doing the right thing, she wondered.  I’ll have to trust Erica and her sisters’ lawyers.  Oh hell.

 

*           *           *

 

            Sir Andred and Kai stood by the car, stretching their muscles and enjoying the air.  Two strange black and white cars with flashing lights on their roofs had driven up to a nearby building, and entered it with their guns drawn.   Not knowing the local customs, they held back instead of acting, until perhaps Erica could tell them what was going on.

 

            “I wonder what powers the spinning lights on their roofs?”  Sir Andred mused.

 

            “Probably the same stuff that powers everything else - their trapped lightning.”  Kai said.

 

            “Probably.”  Andred looked amused.  There were so many wonders to see, he thought.  Even a carriage with lights on its top can be interesting. 

 

            “I hope Maeve and Erica hurry up.  We’re burning daylight.”  Kai groaned.  “I’m not eager to get back into the car, but I would love dinner sometime soon.”

 

            “Aye,” Sir Andred said, laughing.  “Erica said she has the last part of that movie for us to watch tonight.  We’ll get to see if they destroy the ring, or fail.”

 

            Kai grinned.  He and Maeve had a bet that the two Hobbit’s, Frodo and Sam, would kiss before the end of the film, and he wanted to see if he owed Maeve five silvers or not.  Plus, couch time with Erica was never unpleasant.  “Cool.”

 

            About that time, Erica returned to the car.  “Hey guys!  Where’s Maeve?”

 

            “In the bathroom, with you – isn’t she?”  Sir Andred asked.

 

            “Um, no.”  Erica said.  “I was just there and she wasn’t.”  Erica just then saw the police cars.  Oh no!  she thought.  “Nevermind – she’s probably over there.”  Knowing Maeve, it’ll be a miracle if no one’s dead.  Oh hell.

 

            “What are those vehicles?”  Andred asked.

 

            “Police cars – vehicles of our city watch.”  Erica said, groaning.  The two police officers emerged from the bar at that moment, dragging a grinning Maeve to one of the police cars, putting her into the back seat.  Maeve looked calm, and relaxed, and seemed to go willingly.

 

            “I’d better call Harlan.”  Erica said.  “That’s Maeve, being arrested.  I don’t even know what she did – I’d better get us down to their police station and get the ball rolling on getting her out.  Crap!”  She swore, surprising Sir Andred and Kai both. 

 

            “What?”  she said.  “We need to save both worlds…  This could slow us down enough that we don’t stop him in time.  Fuck.”  Kai and Sir Andred nodded, looking worriedly at the police outside the bar, and Erica quickly found Harlan’s number and started dialing.

 

            “Harlan?  Yeah, it’s me, Erica.  We have a bit of a problem…”