“I wish I had better news, Gina,” Christian sighed. “I'm sorry.”

“Why, did you cause the problem in the first place?” Gina retorted. “Stop being sorry, I know the causes, and you're not a part of it. Giving up six years of seniority is a pain, and I wouldn't do it if I hadn't been offered the other job, but it'll be a fair trade if the new one will have less stress. Nobody needs this kind of petty politics and infighting every day. And I'm getting sick of not being able to accomplish anything because of it.”

Christian gestured to the cards laid neatly on the dining room table. “Looks more peaceful to me, there's a pretty strong sense of harmony. Nothing's perfect, of course, but...”

“An improvement is good enough,” Gina said firmly. “I was kind of leaning in that direction anyway, sometimes there are chances you just have to take. This just makes me all the more certain.”

“I'm not infallible.” He'd said it, at least once per session, every single time he'd done a reading, even for regulars. “Or omniscient.”

“Never thought you were, but you're damned good.” She fished a folded purple ten dollar bill out of her pocket and laid it on the table. The corner of a blue five peeked out from inside. “Thanks.”

“Good luck. I'll be wishing you lots of it.”

“Never hurts.” Both stood up, but Gina paused before gathering up her jacket. “Oh, I do have a little good news for you. The nasty malicious rumours seem to be dying down, I haven't been hearing as many of them lately. Maybe whatever asshole started them has stopped feeding the fires. I mean, no one who really knows you would ever believe you'd do any of it. Maybe sanity's returning.”

“Oh, I hope so,” Christian said fervently. “A couple of other friends are noticing the same thing. It's definitely looking promising.” He smiled. “Maybe we can both have some peace and quiet for a while.”

“Let's hope.” She scooped up her jacket and pulled it on. “See you next time I have a question.”

“Any time.” Christian walked her to the front door, locked it behind her, and retreated to the kitchen. Readings always made him thirsty.

Without any great surprise, he found Val sitting on one of the stools, chatting with Sara while the latter made herself a sandwich.

“Hey, how's it going?” Hm, apple juice would do nicely.

“Pretty good,” Val said. “You left your necklace at the store last night. I thought I'd drop it off on the way home.”

“Right, that's where I left it. The chain snapped while I was at work last night, and I was so busy I didn't really think about it. Thanks, I was going crazy trying to remember.”

“This from the person who was just doing a Tarot reading for someone,” Sara said in an aside to Val. “He can see the mysteries of the universe, and loses his favourite necklace.”

“Not all the mysteries,” Christian joked. “I still can't figure out why I put pairs of socks in the dryer, but when I take them out, I couldn't find two socks that match to save my life.” He took a swallow of juice, and picked up the pentagram-and-cross pendant Val had left on the counter. The chain had given way near the clasp, he discovered, on closer examination. Now that he had the time to concentrate, it was easy enough to fit the small links back into place, and use just a touch of telekinesis to close the link that had come open. He fastened it in its familiar place, relieved.

“Handy,” Val commented. “Remind me to start bringing you broken jewellery to repair.”

“Was it busy today?” It was an educated guess—she looked tired.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Hang around, have supper here. Then I'll know you ate, and didn't just fall over into bed after a handful of cookies or something.”

She smiled. “Is Eric cooking?”

“No, we were thinking pizza party tonight.”

“Hm. Okay, but I help pay. I can’t keep letting you feed me, even if I seem to be here more often than I’m home these days.”

“I gotta look for a job,” Sara sighed. “I don't think I want to move back home.”

“Stay here, and then you don't need to worry about rent, just helping with the bills,” Christian suggested. “Heck, we'll get Val living here eventually, too, and then we'll all be paying next to nothing.”

“And tripping over each other constantly,” Val pointed out dryly. “Besides, there are only four bedrooms.”

“We could come up with something. Sid’s porch upstairs is insulated and it’s the size of most of the bedrooms. We can move some of his stuff down here to the living room and the porch, and I can move in with him so you could have my room. The window in between has a curtain on it and if sound carries enough to be annoying, I can fix that.”

“And then what will you do with your patients? You can’t have Sid in the porch when there’s another cat in there.”

Christian shrugged. “We could work it out,” he repeated. “But staying for supper's a good start.”

Val stayed not only for pizza, but to watch a rented movie before she headed for home. Sara, restless, offered to walk with her, and Mark volunteered to come so Sara wouldn't have to walk back alone.

“Hm, and it's just us left.” Eric eyed Christian speculatively, then laughed. “To tell you the truth, about all I'm in the mood for right now is someone to cuddle.”

“I can go with that,” Christian said. “I should get to bed early, I'm on tomorrow and I have to be awake to open.”

“Your place or mine?”

They curled up in Eric's bed, too comfortable together by now for either to care whether Chris bothered shapeshifting or not if sex wasn’t actually involved, and Chris was asleep before he heard Mark and Sara come home.

* * *

“Lie still, Chris,” Eric mumbled, still considerably more than half asleep.

It took a minute more for the awareness to penetrate: Chris doesn't normally talk in his sleep. Drowsily, Eric opened his eyes on darkness, illuminated somewhat by the streetlights it had taken him a while to get used to. Beside him, Christian writhed, and moaned, “I didn't, I swear I didn't, I never have!”

Hell of a nightmare, from the sounds of things. That’s not good. Eric yawned, and shifted closer to run a hand over Christian's hair gently. “Hey, Chris,” he said softly. “Wake up. It's just a dream, you're here with me.”

“Please don't, oh god, don't, I'm telling the truth!” Volume and panic level were both rising; at this rate, he'd have the whole house awake and present in a matter of minutes.

“Chris, wake up! Chris!” Eric sat up, a hunch stirring in the back of his mind. Something was wrong. Even shaking Chris didn't work, and the terror in his voice was beginning to make Eric's skin crawl.

Christian's back arched, and he let out a shriek that echoed off the walls. Eric grabbed his arms, hoping to pin him before he could hurt himself, and felt something wet. He scrambled for the reading lamp next to the bed, and switched it on.

Blood circled both of Christian's wrists; both arms were making short, abrupt jerking motions that Eric could only think of as a desperate attempt to get free.

Alexandra shoved the door aside hard enough that Eric suspected the hinges would need repairs; both hands were curled into claws, but she stopped in confusion when she saw the situation. Sara was only a step behind her, half-invisible behind the lamia's spreading wings.

“We have to wake him up now,” Eric said urgently.

“What's with the blood? There's nothing here.” Alexandra strode across the room to sit on Christian's other side. Sara hesitated in the doorway only a second, then came in as well, to perch near the foot of the bed, arms wrapped around herself as she watched Christian.

“He's a witch,” Eric said, as patiently as he could manage, afraid Christian might die before they had time to act. Dream-time was slippery. “Witches alter reality. Witches are taught very young how to grab control of a dream, because if a witch believes he's dead, he will die. I can't wake him up.”

“So what's keeping him from waking up?” Sara asked.

“Now that,” Eric said, “is a damned good question.” He ran through possibilities mentally, until instinct flagged one. “His cross? That doesn't make sense.”

“He left it at the store overnight last night,” Sara said. “Maybe it's not his, or someone messed with it.”

Alexandra grabbed it and yanked, and let go instantly—the chain, instead of snapping, held, and bit into the back of Christian's neck hard enough to draw blood. Frowning, she slid both hands under it and pulled in opposite directions, wings beating and breath catching with effort. In defeat, she held up both hands palm-up, showing the blood across them. Eric fumbled for the clasp, figuring logic might succeed where strength failed, but it simply refused to open.

Christian convulsed again, with another scream, and this one went on for what felt like forever. Both hands spasmed uncontrollably, and from under one nail at a time, more blood appeared.

“Think of something, guys,” Sara urged. “Is there anything that might cut the chain?”

“Not if I can't break it,” Alexandra said. This kind of utter helplessness didn't sit well with her at all, Eric thought. Well, he wasn't overly thrilled with it himself, not watching Christian torturing himself to death.

Christian went limp, sobbing for breath. “I'm not,” he pleaded brokenly with someone in his own mind. “I never made a pact with the Devil, I never cursed anybody, I never did any of that, I didn't...”

“Oh no,” Sara whispered. “That doesn't sound good.”

Think, Eric, think! There has to be something!

A small hand with neatly-trimmed nails reached past Eric and closed around the cross. Christian shuddered once, and the ragged gasping breaths began to smooth out.

Sara's eyes widened. “I know you, you were in my dream!”

Eric looked up at Tigerlily in relief. “Oh god, thank you... can you get it off?”

She smiled, and glanced at Alexandra. “Try again, while I hold it harmless.”

Alexandra seized it with both hands again, and yanked. The chain fragmented, bits of it flying in all directions; Tigerlily's hand, holding the pendant, never moved.

“Much better,” Tigerlily said in satisfaction. “That's an exceedingly unpleasant piece of work, to lock a witch within his own mind into one of the Inquisition's torture pits.” She looked at Alexandra again, and inclined her head, equal to equal. “Will you let me heal him?”

Alexandra nodded mutely.

Poor lady, what's caring for humans doing to you? This is the first time I've ever thought you might be about to cry.

“This will take time, but not as much as it would have if I'd come any later. There's no damage to bone or tendon, only to flesh, and I can repair that. And I think it would be best if he didn't recall the dream itself?” She looked to Alexandra questioningly, got another nod.

“Hold this? I think it's harmless to anyone while they're awake, but just in case, better in your hands than Eric's or Sara's.” She held out the pentagram-and-cross. “Please, don't destroy it. I have a much more appropriate fate in mind for it.” For just an instant, Tigerlily's expression reminded Eric of Alexandra's when she was hunting. Knowing kitsune, he decided he would be much happier not asking.

Alexandra took the pendant, and clenched her hand around it, while Tigerlily wriggled herself into position with Christian's head cradled on her crossed legs.

“How did you know?” Sara asked timidly.

“A witch's belief alters reality,” Tigerlily said, reaching down and gently crossing Christian's abused hands on his chest. “Reality has been altered for some distance, centred here. There is a very real danger of witch-hunts, in some form, in this part of the world. Christian is very strong and the dream was very powerful, and it won't take a great deal to set off a reaction that would cause considerable disruption and suffering. It was rather difficult for kitsune to overlook.”

“I wouldn't've expected you to pay any attention to human problems.” Sara looked down shyly, and blushed and tugged her oversized T-shirt down farther.

“Enlightened self-interest,” Tigerlily said. “This is considerably larger than a butterfly flapping its wings, and could cause a much larger hurricane. And he has been kind to me and to my clan-sisters.” Hands resting lightly over Christian's, she closed her eyes.

Eric slid off the bed, touched Sara's shoulder lightly, and motioned towards the door; Alexandra followed without prompting. They relocated a short way down the hall in Sara's room, Sara cross-legged in the middle of the folded-out futon, Eric on the edge of it, Alexandra on her feet and pacing restlessly.

“Chris'll be fine,” Eric said, putting all the reassurance he could into his tone. “I've seen Jade do some pretty impressive healing, even when she was three-tails, and Tigerlily's eight.”

Alexandra turned on him, just shy of snarling. “I couldn't do anything! Chris could've died in front of me, and I couldn't stop it!”

“Join the club,” Sara said, uncommonly sharply. “You can't do everything, for heaven's sake. Everyone has things they can't do. Deal with it.”

“What Sara said,” Eric agreed. “Stop pacing like that and c'mere.”

Reluctantly, Alexandra came—one hand still closed tightly around the pendant. She sank down on the edge of the bed, head bowed. “They're trying different kinds of attacks. I can protect him as long as they send spies and assassins. I can't protect him from things I can't fight.”

Eric slid an arm around her shoulders; Sara shifted closer to mirror it on the other side. “C'mon, dark lady, pull yourself together. Do you have another option in mind, other than all of us using every skill and resource we have between us to make sure we all survive? 'Cause if you do, I'm all ears.”

“We all do our best,” Sara said softly. “You can do a heck of a lot more than Val or I, but we're still hangin' in there.”

Alexandra sighed. “I could've told Vadin and Seth no. Why can I not even regret that I didn't? This doesn't make sense.”

“Feelings don't,” Sara said wryly. “That's, well, very human.”

The lamia shook herself. “You two are okay?”

“Other than worried, yep,” Eric said, and Sara nodded.

“Not so worried now,” Sara added. “I think she'll take good care of Chris. But what was she doing in my dream?”

Eric spun out the tale of asking Tigerlily for help—which he and Chris hadn't actually told anyone about in detail—for as long as he could, in hopes of distracting both Sara and Alexandra. It led into Sara asking questions about kitsune. Alexandra listened silently, but at least she was paying attention to them, instead of drowning in her own feeling of failure. That spilled into a discussion of kitsune hospitality and kitsune clans and kitsune culture in general, which Eric had a reasonably good grasp of, and which Sara found fascinating. Whether she'd have found it as much so if she weren't trying to keep her mind busy—and possibly Alexandra's, it wouldn't surprise Eric if Sara had the same thought—was another question, but he thought she might.

Tigerlily's footsteps made no sound on the hall carpet; Alexandra looking up sharply was the only clue Eric and Sara had of the kitsune's approach.

“He's well,” Tigerlily reported. “There's no harm left to his body, and I buried the memory as deeply as possible, where it's unlikely to wake and trouble him. I'd have erased it from his mind altogether if I could, it was a terrible thing. It may take him a day or more to wake, this has been a considerable strain on his body and mind both.”

“Thank you,” Alexandra said, and added, after only a heartbeat's pause, “If you ever need anything I can do...”

Eric had never seen a kitsune look surprised before. Then Tigerlily smiled, and came nearer to offer a hand; Alexandra closed her free one around it. “Just knowing it was offered is a favour in itself, but I'll remember that. There are certainly things you can do that I can't.” She tilted her head a little to one side. “You're very different from the others of your kind, in ways. The world would be better with more like you.”

“I’m a freak, old news,” Alexandra muttered, and let go, holding up the pentagram-and-cross on her other palm. “And this?”

Tigerlily grinned as she took it, showing small even white teeth. “Someone put quite a lot of effort into creating the spell on it, I think it's only fair for him to have it back to see the results, hm?” She looked at Eric, and winked. “Don't forget, you promised we'd have tea again.”

“I would never forget a promise to such a wonderful lady,” Eric said.

“Good.” She vanished.

“She's going to put it on whoever made it?” Sara asked quietly.

Silence for a moment, and Alexandra gave her a wolfish grin, much like Tigerlily's. “Think of it as extremely prompt karma. Let's go check on Chris. And ask Val to cover for him tomorrow.”