I cracked open a beer, surveying the campsite as Jeff coordinated directions over the radio. Dave was taking a break from playing his lute to collapse his tent, which had been in the way of one of the fields of fire. I had already done so, after packing up most of my gear; it was starting to seem like it’d be a long night.
“Then why are you drinking?” Came the annoyed voice from beside me. “Shouldn’t you be staying sober? Things might get pretty bad here, with all these people gathered attracting monsters.”
“Haven’t you heard the phrase ‘train how you fight?’ I’ve always been ahead of the curve on this, and now it’s time to shine.”
Liah looked at me dumbfounded. She knew that I was being somewhat sincere as well. Meanwhile...
“He’ll yeah, borther!” Said Doc, raising her own beer in a toast. As our medic and, for lack of a better term, makeshift magical mortar(?), the two of us, had been left by the campfire. A bit further out, Gabe was digging a fighting position to hole up in with the machine gun he brought which, as we learned, was definitely not the semi-auto commercial variant. Doc, meanwhile, was carrying the FN P90 she had brought to show off. Naturally she had plenty of the “Mil/LEO Only” AP ammo for it. I guess being a dealer really does have its advantages.
“By the way, you do realize how lovey-dovey it looks when you act like you know each-others thoughts, right? It’s almost like you’re flaunting it.” Doc said. Liah perked up a bit from her early glower of disapproval. Rather, she oozed smugness. If smugness were a gaseous substance, everyone surrounding her would be dead of Smug poisoning. I was starting to suspect she might like me… ope, there’s that flash of annoyance again… but the amount of smugness was a bit much.
“It’s part of our witch/familiar bond.” I explained. “We can feel each-others emotions and we can communicate mentally if need be. I don’t know why she seems able to read my thoughts directly, but there’s that too.”
“That’s just because it’s all the more important for me to understand your intentions. Doesn’t that seem just unfair? It’s almost like she owns me completely, mind and body.” Liah grinned.
Doc almost seemed put off by how possessive Liah was being. Honestly I myself couldn’t remember acting so openly flirtatious before.
“Idiot.” She said to me, fondness in her eyes.
Am I just missing out on something? Is she just the kind of girl who gets competitive when she thinks someone might steal the one she wants? I enjoyed the malty goodness of my Yuengling as I contemplated what my fuzzy familiar could possibly be thinking, ignoring the growing disapproval coming from her. Actually, is this even the right time to be flirting? If she’s right, all hell’s going to break loose the moment the sun goes down.
“That’s right. I’m not sure what happened, probably someone with no formal training trying to pass through to here, to Faerie as some people call it, but they must have been on a ley-line because they just like, unzipped everything? People like us, in the know about the supernatural, are far more likely to run into it, and were the most likely to fall through.” She said, dropping into her lecture mode despite seeming unsure what happened herself.
“So is it our fault?”
“It’s like a freak accident. And we have those two witch-hunter types from DHS here too mucking with things.”
“Witch hunters? That’s a thing?”
“Well, how else would you describe them? They were targeting you, specifically for using harmful magic against others. It’s not like they’d go after every fortune teller or coven of Wiccans, they just chase after the stereotypical ‘cackling old hags casting curses’ like you.”
“Hey, I already explained, if anything I’m the pretty Morgan Le Fay type!”
“You have some good looks to be sure, but I’ve heard you practicing your cackle when you thought I was still just a cat. You even wore the hat!”
“I-” I looked around, None of the guys seemed to have heard but Doc looked to be one straw away from completely cracking up. I chose to ignore her. After how she acted petting Liah all weekend she had no right to judge me for acting a bit immature when by myself.
“Just accept it, Amy. You know I don’t judge you too much for it. It’s kind of cute in a frumpy sort of way-”
Fwwipp
The sound of a suppressed handgun going off echoed through the camp. All movement stopped, ears perked and eyes peeled looking for the source of the noise. A rustle of bushes was followed by a voice.
“Sorry about that. Found something weird and thought it’d be better to take care of it. Check this out.” Smith emerged from the bushes, looking for all the world like John Clark from a Clancy novel, suppressed .45 in hand. In his hands, grasped by the feet, was a...rabbit? No, it couldn’t be, it was-
“Is that a fucking jackalope?” Dave had finished packing up his tent by now, and was closest to where Smith had emerged from. “Weird. I wonder if it’s edible.”
“Hands off, it’s mine! I wonder if I can find a taxidermist who could mount this for me… Nah, I got this on the job, they’d probably make me burn it.”
“This isn’t a government-funded cryptid safari. Rabbit stew does sound good though.” Jeff chimed in. “And let me know next time you shoot something! We’re all on edge. Well, except for our spell-caster and healer.”
“You should have one.” I offered a can. “You’re a sniper, aren’t you? It’ll steady the nerves, that’s why it’s banned from Olympic shooting. Performance enhancing drug.”
“Figures. Both Marines here are drinking, right when we’re about to have a fuck-ton of monsters down on our heads.” (Author's note, official ANSI fuck-ton, not a metric fuck-ton)
“It’s part of our history! Way back in the Revolution John Paul Jones led a bunch of Marines on a raid on Whitehaven, England. Sacked two forts and every bar and tavern in the town!” Gabe paused from digging his hole to grab a beer. For all his initial complaining he seemed oddly good at digging. Oddly enough, I could swear I recognized the tune Dave had started playing. Was that Diggy Diggy Hole?
“Have you finished setting up?” Jeff was hiding the exasperation in his voice but it was seeping into the tone of his speech.
“Just about. I only brought a few belts worth, which luckily I grabbed from the truck earlier today after all that weird shit happened last night. Amy seemed pretty on top of things but I figured a bit more oomph could be useful. I also have a spare barrel and a few frags.”
“Be careful with those!”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Okay, and after pooling all our AR mags and 5.56, we should be good on that round for tonight, right?”
“Yah. We all have AR’s, but Doc’s agreed to lend Dave one of her post-sample M16’s she brought. Amy already has her weird silver bullets, which I imagine must do something special since she went out of her way to make them.”
“I sure as hell hope so.”
“By the way, what kind of magic can you do? Is conjuring fireballs normal?”
“It’s weird, actually. I’ve done some big spells before in the past, like stealing documents and souring milk, but nothing as, like, flagrantly and showily in denial of reality like that. I feel like I should be able to do some big stuff but, like, why?”
“I can explain that actually. Actually, you’re the witch here, you should already know more than your familiar here on this.”
“Explain, then.”
“You said it yourself, ‘denial of reality.’ You understand the basics of how magic works, right? You’re basically rejecting everyone else’s reality and substituting your own. It’s a herculean task to push against the status quo too much, especially with easily observable phenomena. But that’s just back in the world you know. We’re outside of that at the moment, in a world less bound by the billions of pesky humans who insist that ‘no, reality has to conform to these laws’ and full of supernatural beings and people who strongly feel 'yes, being able to use flashy magic is normal.'”
“So...”
“So at least while we’re here, you aren’t stuck stealing the Declaration of Independence or casting petty spells.” She paused for effect, acting overly theatrical. Probably because she knew I found it annoying. “Here you’re the equivalent of an artillery piece.”
“No shit.” I was awestruck.
In the background the music had shifted. No longer was Dave playing a lute cover of Windrose, rather, he had switched to a weirdly up-beat lute rendition of I Don’t Want to set the World on Fire by The Inkspots. Ominous. I suppose I should hold back, just this once.
“You hold back all the time. It’s like ingrained into your very being to avoid doing extra work. If anything you should be going all out. There’s a boat-load of things out there, waiting for twilight to be over to attack.”
“Good point, when is twilight going to be over in?”
It was Jeff who answered. “Well, looking at the sun, about...now?”
Eerie howls filled the surrounding forest, echoing into the air as darkness fell throughout the trees. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and the lizard part of my brain, the part where the base human instincts dwell, was screaming at me to flee. This was going to be a long fucking night.
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Dave starts playing Mick Gordan tracks....