"I haven't ever heard of that book before," Amber Grim said.

She was coming for her night shift just as I was headed out. I'd stopped at the Beginners' dormitory after my Junior Magic Class to chat with my sister - Amanda was offering me the moral support for a change of pace. And, to be frank, I really needed it. And I was just about fed up with the Wayfarer's Tome - it had plenty of useful spells, but I'd just about plumbed its depths and I still didn't have a way to get Cassie back. I could probably cast any of those spells without any ritual at this point - that's the difference between a competent witch and a dedicated one who's obsessed, frequently weeping, over a tome in the hopes that it might somehow bring her lost love back…

Amber picked up on my mood. "I'm sorry, Natalie… if it's a bad time…"

"No, it's not that. You know what… it's an interesting book. You should borrow it. It might give you some good reading while you wait for the girls to drift off."

"The Wayfarer's Companion," she read. "Interesting… you wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all. I need other things to occupy myself with than Ambrose Nicht's book - just bring it back when you're done… it's not actually mine."

"Sure thing, Nat." She slid the book under a her arm, clad in a lemon-yellow dress that would have made June Cleaver proud. Before I could go, she turned back and touched my elbow. "And… well, I know we're not that close, but I want you to know I'm rooting for you. I hope you find Cassandra."

"Thanks."

We might have been erstwhile rivals, however briefly, but Amber Grim was good people. As far as I could tell, the sympathy between her and Dr. Sauvage was that Amber didn't like to rock the boat, and Sauvage found that sort of conformity deeply appealing. But she was a good person, even if she'd probably never encounter a month worth of Natalie-caliber adventures in her whole, boring, centuries-long life. But maybe adventure wasn't all it was cracked up to be - after all, where had it left me beside heartbroken and miserable?

My students certainly picked up on my mood. I tried to be the fun, conspiratorial Miss Bryce that took them to secret parts of the school or egged them on in their amusing, if ultimately harmless, tricks and pranks on one another and on the student body at large. I tried to nurture creativity, to foster boldness, to let the girls know they must never stop striving to improve themselves. The sorts of things I thought a good teacher would do. But I wasn't a good teacher, not any more. I was too perpetually upset to focus properly, and I kept expecting that I'd get called into the administration and pulled out of my classes for being such a horrible teacher. But that call never came.

+++++

I think it was two days later in my Semiotics class when it finally happened… not getting called out of my class, but it. I was turning Carla's spiral glyph over in my hands, staring at the host of little imperfections in technique that made it a barely-functional glyph (in terms of holding an embedded ward) rather than a highly successful one. I flaked some of the aluminum foil off of the stone with my thumbnail and sighed.

"I… I'm sorry, Miss Bryce," Carla said, clearly picking up on my disappointment. "I'll do better. I'll start again…"

To see her big brown eyes looking at me like that, to see her nibbling her lip in worry, wavering on the verge of tears, just about broke my heart - Carla hadn't done anything wrong, and here I was, her teacher, sighing like she was undeserving of my attention. She gasped in surprise when I pulled her into a hug. "It's nothing you did, Carla. This was a very good first effort, and if you learn from the little flaked off bits where your spiral won't hold a ward, you'll be able to make one that's three times as good. Go get some of the good silver foil from the front and we'll see if your new glyph can hold…"

"Miss Bryce! Miss Bryce! Out in the commons!" Zelda Lee tugged at my hand and pointed out the window.

The last thing I needed was Zelda pointing out students getting in a snowball fight (I didn't care if it was against school regulations) out on the green… well… the white, I suppose - St. Circe's always has white winters. But Zelda was a stickler, and now that she'd brought it to my attention, I supposed it was my duty to do my due diligence and make sure nobody was going to get hurt. I sighed and stood on my tiptoes to get a good look… and boy am I glad I did.

It wasn't a snowball fight. Out there, pacing back to a town car with enough sinister decoration to be a gothic hearse, was Byron Bryce accompanied by two Gangling Men. And Amber Grim. For a moment, my mind reeled at the possibility that Amber was somehow in league with those assholes… but it was actually much worse. I could see, clutched in the hands of the shorter man, the reddish-brown leather of the Wayfarer's Companion. Amber wasn't in cahoots with those three…. she was being detained by them. For possession of the forbidden knowledge that I'd unwittingly leant to her. It hadn't even occurred to me that the book contained several symbols that we weren't supposed to know, for I'd learned all those and many more thanks to my little symbol oracle program. But it was forbidden, and now they were leading Amber away, and she was crying, eyeshadow and mascara streaming down her face.

"Fuck!" I shouted, and half the class giggled. "Girls, I have to go," I said. "Under no circumstance are you to follow me. Okay?"

"Yes, Miss Bryce," Carla said - crossing her fingers behind her back as she did.

I didn't have the time or inclination to correct her disciplinary transgression. I dashed out of the classroom, down the stairs, and out into the snow after that town car. I hopped on my bike, swerved twice in the snow, and finally got some traction, pedaling like mad to keep the car in sight. If I had to guess, they were going toward the eastern ley and, from there, they'd drive off to wherever. And things clicked into place: I could follow them. The Wayfarer's Tome, which Amber had been detained for being in possession of, had taught me how to activate the last known portal along a ley nexus. And, assuming my blood ties with Byron Bryce were strong enough, I might have enough sympathy to enter the place without triggering a fuckton of wards. But I had to get to the nexus before anybody else used it from either end - otherwise, I wouldn't be able to follow them back at all.

I cast my bike by the snowy roadside, crouched by the standing stone, and set up the ritual to open the portal. I might have done it without the ritual, but my other hand was busy preparing a ward unbinding spell to delay or stop whatever wards Byron had at the entrance to his domain. I had to be smart, and taking needless risks wasn't smart. With the little ritual circle complete, I stepped through the reactivated portal just as I finished the unbinding.

I stepped through the portal and into a dark and slightly-musty four-car garage right next to the town car. Its engine was still clicking and groaning at being in a warm garage after puttering along in the cold. At least five wards had been placed around me, but my unbinding ritual had relaxed them and my affinity for Byron's aura (via blood ties) made them barely reactive in any case. Good thing the Bryce family hadn't disowned me yet, though I couldn't conceive of why they hadn't… I suppose a simple oversight might be hoping for too much. Just as I was pondering my good luck, much worse luck came my way.

"I told you the portal was still open," Zelda Lee whispered. Fuck.

"And you were right," Amanda whispered. "Congratulations."

Three girls from my class had just popped through the portal, probably without a moment to spare before it closed. I'd been too preoccupied with the wards to formally close it from my end. And now those wards had sensed two intruders (Amanda, if anything, was considered less of an intruder than me) and were slowly cohering themselves, mere moments from triggering. I repeated my unbinding spell, good to buy a few seconds, but it would have diminishing returns.

"Shit! You guys are standing on top of about five industrial grade wards," I hissed from behind the car. "Carla! Stop… don't panic! Zelda! Breathe! And Amanda… I need you to make your way toward me using the trick I taught you! Slowly!"

Amanda nodded, a worried look in her eyes. As one of my more advanced students, I'd taught her a bit about wards - magical traps and safeguards designed to keep intruders out of a witch or warlock's domain or away from anything she wishes to safeguard. You can think of them as a magical hybrid between a complicated knot and a spider's web - tangles of magical 'sensors' symbolically chained to different triggered effects that ranged from benign (the ones we'd practiced in my class, when triggered, would make a sound and smell like a fart - the girls thought it was hilarious) to the less benign (e.g. having your body instantly shredded into bite-sized bits). These wards were closer to the latter variety. Fortunately, there were a few techniques to slip a witch through that spider's web - though they didn't always work.

Amanda worked her technique and the other girls followed in her wake - essentially, she acted like a non-reactive bulwark that the wards wouldn't attack and the girls could follow behind in a protective pocket. I guided them with my free hand, pointing to the spots in the garage that were safe, pointing to the bumper of the town car and having them climb over the thing to avoid the worst tangle of wards. Fortunately, they were all pretty competent climbers. Once they were at my spot, I pulled them a few steps past the ward field and breathed a sigh of relief.

"That was really dangerous," I said. "I told you not to follow me."

"He's my grandfather," Amanda stated. "It's my business, too."

"We just want to help," Carla added.

"Well, you can help me by staying put until I can come back to muddle my way back through the wards and get us the hell out of here. Do you hear me?" I looked Carla, specifically, in the eye. "Stay. Put. I'll be right back."

+++++

As I wandered out from that garage and into the hallways of a sumptuous Gilded Age mansion (I guess the style ran in the family), I wondered whether I was making a huge mistake. Here I was, wandering into the sanctuary of one of my greatest enemies, into a confrontation with not one, but three (or more) powerful magic users, and all I had for backup was three Tween novice witches… well, Amanda was an adult in some senses… and I'd just ordered them to stay in the garage.

It was strange, the realization that this warm and sunlit corridor, with its walnut paneling and priceless works of art, was the bastion of such a cruel man. Perhaps not quite as evil as his son, but the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree. I heard footsteps approaching and managed to crouch behind an urn just in time for a shuffling maid to miss me. She carried a great silver platter with what looked like tea cups and a piping-hot silver ewer - Byron Bryce either didn't own or didn't care to use a magically-automated set - and it didn't take a brilliant witch to guess which asshole Bryce patriarch was about to serve. So I followed after the maid as silently as possible, hoping there'd be a convenient hiding spot for me if she decided to look back.

Fortunately, it didn't come to that. At the end of the corridor was a large drawing room, its generous skylight filling the place with the golden warmth of late afternoon, a room with a lounge, a library, and a billiard table at various points around the place. I held back a few feet and watched as the maid set the tea set down and curtsied.

"Your afternoon tea, Lord Bryce," she said in a soft voice.

"Thank you, Mary Elizabeth," Byron stated. "We'll help ourselves to tea if we want it. Go back to the kitchen and remind Silvio bring me the menu for tomorrow night's gathering. Tell the others to stay away until we're done attending to our meddling witch."

"Yes, milord."

Milord? Who the fuck did 'old knickerbocker' think he was? In all likelihood, he thought he was a powerful and influential warlock - and he was right about that much. I tried to imagine what it would take for me to presume to make my staff scrape and curtsy and call me 'lady', and my conclusion was: I'd have to be a much pettier and more entitled bitch than I currently was. That tracked with what I knew about the Bryce men. I confabulated myself against the wall as Mary Elizabeth passed back. She slowed and sniffed at the air, perhaps getting a whiff of my subtle perfume (actually, Cassie's perfume - I'd put on a little to remind myself of her smell), and continued on without spotting me through my illusion. No surprise there - even seasoned witches wouldn't see through a clever bit of chameleon magic unless they were looking for it.

Byron poured himself some tea. "Out of curiosity, what do you intend on doing with the girl? I suppose I should know these things, but it's been years and years since we've had a proper case of forbidden knowledge… I guess it's in vogue now. What will become of Miss Grim?"

Beyond him were two Gangling Men and Amber, now bound to one of the lounge chairs in the sturdy black fabric of magical wrappings. The man seeing to her bindings looked back to Byron and smiled, his mouth showing a few too many slightly-crooked teeth. "If the One Voice does not care for her body and she is not added to the Tree, she will be rendered into reagents for our rituals."

Byron sneered in disgust but still took an appraising sip of tea. He poured a blot of cream in and stirred. "You'll kill her for spare parts?"

The other man nodded. "Witch's essences are strong and good for much. Those we use we'll keep alive as long as possible… but, ultimately, there are parts whose loss the body cannot survive, not even a witch's. I cannot say how Miss Grim will fare… but I suspect she will not be a valued cultivar."

"I suppose that's the price of dabbling in the forbidden. But before you take our unfortunate pedagogue to your strange lair to dangle with the Petersen girl, I hope you'll honor my right to question the woman?"

"Of course, Bryce. Your inquisitive mind has long proven invaluable. The condition is that we must be present…"

Byron nodded. "Of course. Please, help yourself to some tea."

"We do not drink," the other pale man stated.

With a flick of his wrist, Byron Bryce dispelled the wrapping around Amber's mouth. She gasped and muttered pleas for help, tears streaming down the rivulets of ruined cosmetics. Byron took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her gaze to meet his.

"I apologize for this nonsense, Miss Grim but, where your fate is concerned, my hands are tied just as much as yours. But you'd be doing your sisters a service if you told me who gave you that book, because I know you didn't do it on your own. Why… maybe these two will even take mercy on you if you'll acquiesce to the truth-finder…" He produced a small, gem-studded tiara from a nearby table and held it above Amber's head, waiting for her to indicate he could slip it on - it wouldn't be nearly as useful if applied without consent. "What do you say, gentlemen? Will you consider mercy if Miss Grim divulges her supplier?"

Amber's supplier, of course, was yours truly. And if she acquiesced to the truthfinder's tiara and admitted that it had been me, that made me as good as guilty as far as the Gangling Men were concerned. They'd probably be able to link the book to me and then back to Ambrose Nicht, who'd leant it to Simone and myself. And, if I was in Amber's spot, there's a decent chance I would have given her up if it meant not being vivisected into a living pharmacopeia for the Gangling Men. But Amber shook her head.

"Go fuck yourself," she said, her teary eyes suddenly firm and full of anger. Something deep within my chest swelled with pride in hearing that. Maybe Amber was a greater ally than I'd suspected, and it was practically my moral duty to help her. But I had to think about how…

Just then, a large man tromped past me, practically bowling me over and out of my hiding spot. "Milord, I found these three sneaking down the corridor. This one claims she's your granddaughter."

"So she is… my young granddaughter from St. Circe's. Amanda, child. What is the meaning of this… how have you come to be here?" Byron strode over to her, glowering, and placed a firm hand upon her shoulder. "Speak, girl."

"I… let Ms. Grim go, granddaddy. She's not a bad person."

"It's out of my hands, my sweet. And you haven't answered my question. I shall be quite cross if answers aren't forthcoming."

With a casual gesture, he wrapped Zelda Lee up in dark bindings. She made a little yelp as he did and even started to unwork them with her own counter-spell, but Byron was far too strong and fast for her to put up more than token resistance.

"Your friend knows a bit of witchcraft, I see. Tell me, Amanda, sweet, have you been learning the craft?"

"Please let them go," Amanda said, her voice wavering. She was about to cry.

Enough was enough. I stepped out from my hiding spot and strode into the room, all 4'10" of me in my mud-spattered, snow-damp purple dress. "I'm here for my friends, Byron. All of them. Amber Grim, these three girls, and Cassandra Petersen. If any of you have any sense of self-preservation, you'll hand them over and we'll set this little family tiff behind us."

"You aren't family," he stated. "And the impertinence of a whelp of a witch who's grown too big for her galoshes is not something I'll abide."

With that, he tried to wrap me in magical bindings, too. With to quick symbols, I deflected the attack and redirected it toward one of the Gangling Men, catching him by surprise. His colleague attempted to unbind him, and I countered him with one hand, tracing out symbols to maintain the binding far to quickly for the pale man to undo them. I turned my attention toward Byron, my face creeping up in a smile as he realized what I'd just done.

"This 'whelp' forced her way into your sanctum, 'grandfather', and she has no intention of leaving without her fucking friends. Don't make me ask again or I'll do to you what I did to Lucian."

The statement just popped out - I didn't even know what had befallen Lucian, but I knew that Byron thought I did. And my stating that inflamed him into a rage, and he started hurling out wards and curses too fast for me to dodge them. Byron Bryce was a powerful warlock with over a century of practice under his belt and, as talented as I was, I couldn't battle him off while occupying the attention of two Gangling Men. Not by myself - but I wasn't alone. I dove to avoid his next salvo and used my spare second to free Amber's hands - she could free herself the rest of the way and provide assistance. And, for her part, Amanda barely knew enough to defend herself and the other girls if they came under assault. Already, she had Zelda free and the three girls were chanting a three-person defensive ritual that I'd taught them - good thinking, girls!

"Give me my grandson, you bitch!" Byron growled - this sentiment coming from a guy complicit in kidnapping my Cassie along with Amber and probably a few other witches. He didn't deserve shit. And, as I anticipated more magical attacks and readied a few of my own, Byron gashed his own hand open with a knife he'd taken from a nearby countertop. As I considered whether or not Byron Bryce had gone completely insane, he took his hand, dribbling out crimson, and mashed it against a little jeweled box.

The box was some sort of magical artifact… something using the strange magic of the Gangling Men if I had to guess… and it was immensely powerful. And he'd just fueled the damn thing with powerful warlock blood, so it had a hell of a lot of oomph on top of its already-considerable power. He unleashed its energies at me - I raised a defensive shield just in time, and my shield lasted for all of about two seconds before the power of the device absorbed right through and sank into me. I could feel its horrible power seeping into my body, creeping into my veins, delving into my bones, and I knew that this was what the Gangling Men had used to transform me - it was some sort of horrible curse-amplifier, and I'd just been juked with it.

Suddenly, I found myself floating out of my body. I wondered if I was dead, if Byron Bryce had just instakilled me and I was now a ghost floating off toward oblivion… but that wasn't it at all. I could still see myself down below, could see the frightened Junior girls and see Amber and Amanda fending off the Gangling Men… though they were surely overmatched. I could see Byron roughly manhandling my much smaller body and setting me in one of the lounge chairs.

"I'm going to ask you this once, and if you don't answer me directly, I'm going to turn you into a goddamn worm - what have you done with my grandson and where can I find him?"

And I heard a voice… my voice, but with inflections utterly unlike my own… reply, "Me… I'm here…"

"What?" He frowned, dialing knobs on the box. "Damnit… answer me! Where is Lucian?"

"Pleeease," other-me said. With a little concentration, I found myself able to float back toward myself, buffeted by the currents of battle magic coursing through the air. "It's me, grandfather… help me…" other-me said. And, with a start, I realized where I knew its inflections from. Somehow, as impossible as it sounded, Lucian Bryce was speaking through my mouth. With a surge of effort, I pushed myself forward, coursing through the back of my own head (was my hair really that red?), intangibly passing through the dark space of my own skull, the sound of blood pulsing, the nucleus of magic within me thermonuclear-bright.

"Have it your way, you miserable wench. May you wriggle in filth forever…"

Just then, I snapped back into my body and sensation flooded back into me. There was a massive burst of magic that immediately dispelled every iota of spellcraft flying about the room… and I was not a worm. Though Byron Bryce was. He'd turned into a huge, meter-long, slimy monster of a worm… or, at least, that's what writhed and oozed about the floor where he'd just been standing. I leapt to my feet and spun about to face the others. The Gangling Men stared at me, awestruck, and before they had a chance to launch their attack anew, I had them bound and helpless.

"Not so fun, is it?" I said, knocking the broad-brimmed hats from their heads. "Don't worry… I'll take good care of your magic box." Without further ado, I slapped their foreheads, one-two, tracing out the symbol to dispel them.

"I…" Carla looked about the chaotic clutter of the drawing room and started crying, so I brought her into a hug. "I think I'm traumatized," she said, before adding with a sniffle: "I want to be just like you when I grow up."

"Then you'd better study hard and listen to your teachers," I said. "But you were very brave, Carla. Now let's get the fuck out of here before the staff decides to fetch help."

"What about Cassie?" Amanda asked.

I squeezed her hand - she and Cassie were only vaguely friends, and the fact that she'd asked meant she was thinking of me. She was a good sister. I shuffled through the piles of dispelled Gangling Man rags to find the symbol scraps that had held their forms together. "Cassie's not here - they've taken her to some kind of place that, if I had to guess, has witches dangling from some kind of messed-up magical tree. And if we want to pluck her from the tree, I have some studying to do."

"What about my grandfather?"

I shrugged. "If you don't want him to shrivel up and die, I guess we'd better take him with. Those worms can live for a good, long time, so I suggest that you have a good, long think about what to do with him… and let him have a good, long, wormy think about the wisdom of fucking with a pissed-off witch. Let's bounce, girls."

OvidLemma

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