Seth came to, his head split in half from pain, lying in his own bed. He heard the wheels of his chair moving on the floor and he painfully turned his head right to see a man he didn’t recognize sitting in it.

“Welcome back to the living, dude.” The man had a military-style haircut that left his dirt-blond hair far too long to actually be a military cut. A beard sprouted from his face, trimmed immaculately to about an inch and a half at its longest point. He had hardened hazel eyes and the beginnings of crow’s feet next to them. He wore plain jeans with a drop-holstered pistol on his left hip, brown leather hiking boots, and a olive-green jacket over a tank-top with a vibrant striped pattern on it that gave off surfer vibes. The man leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “That was fucking wild.”

Seth tested himself, wiggling his now bare toes under the covers. As he mentally checked over his body, making sure he could feel everything, he realized he was stripped down to his boxers. He propped himself up on his elbows, his shoulder joints and his neck screaming in protest. “Are you…”

“With Hunter? Yeah.” The man stroked his beard. “You’re lucky my hometown is in Cali, dude. Otherwise you might not have gotten such a fast response. Still pissed you cut my leave short, but you can get me back later.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it’s always fun to run liaison with local cops and do a custom cover job. Class four, huh? Fucking badass, dude. I never get to mess with that.”

“Look, I just… What happened?”

“Werebears wanted to fuck you up, that’s what happened. But you can cast, so you made some pretty good work of at least two of them. City was cleaning up chunks of polar bear all day.”

The wind whistled and Seth leaned forward a bit more to look over to his window. Boards covered it. He fell back to the pillow. “Fuck.”

“Nah, man. You did good, though you’d be dead if you were an unknown extra. At this rate, you’ll be recovered in another twenty-four hours.”

Seth lifted his covers. A rapidly fading bite-mark covered his torso.

“Yeah, dude. That’s a bear bite. So, you’ve figured out how to cast since your last case file?”

Seth shook his head. “The ring.” It wasn’t on his finger anymore.

“Ah. Who gave you a spelljar?”

Seth hesitated, racking his foggy brain for what Olivia told him to say. “Ignis-Sacer.”

“Damn, dude. Those pricks don’t give out shit even with a subpoena.” The man stood up. “I’ve got some errands to run. Gotta get the lay of land better, I’ve been tied down here since I arrived this morning. Local police were a little uppity, didn’t like my FBI credentials, had to run a whole call up the chain to get them to chill. Anyway, if anyone asks, the bears aren’t weird at this point with all the shit that’s been going on since you kicked the hornets’ nest, but the explosion was just a broken gas line. Cool?”

“Uh… cool.”

“Great. I’m Sergeant First Class Tiberius, by the way, but you can call me Sarge, or just Brett is cool, too. Your dad is fine, just shaken up and mildly concussed. Sucks for both of you if you didn’t have tinnitus, though, ‘cause you sure do now.” He pointed to Seth’s nightstand, where a single note-card lay. “My number, a direct line to the command element, and…” He pulled a small prescription bottle out of his jacket and set it next to the card. “Eight hundred milligram ibuprofen. Don’t forget to change your socks.” He chuckled at a joke Seth didn’t understand. “Alright, dude. I’ll be back when you’re healed up.”

Brett turned and walked out of Seth’s room, closing the door behind him. Seth lay there, trying to push his splitting headache aside. A few moments later, he heard a vehicle’s engine start up as Brett pulled out of the driveway. Seth groaned and reached for the prescription bottle. It did not say ibuprofen on it.

Oxycodone.

Seth raised his eyebrows, hesitated for just a second, then popped it open and swallowed one of the small white pills. He replaced the bottle on his nightstand and lay back down, letting fuzzy comfort take over his skull as he drifted off to sleep.

***

When Seth next awoke, the splitting headache had vanished, and he only felt soreness like after a hard workout, rather than his entire body screaming from his unintended fireball-fueled abuse of it. He swung out of bed and limped to the closet, taking a look down at himself as he did so. The bite marks had faded to bright red points on his stomach and lower back. Aside from a streak of soot on his mithril augment, he looked not a whole lot worse for the wear. Seth reached his closet and glanced at his desk. Someone had placed the knife, ring, and warding crystal—surprisingly only cracked—neatly on the corner of it. He looked at the boarded window, hesitated, then put the crystal on his neck before opening his closet and dressing himself.

As he pulled his clothes on, Seth’s thoughts went to Andrew, immediately taking a much darker turn to whether or not his friend was still alive. Seth pressed his lips together as he pulled a plain white tee over his head. He couldn’t entertain that. Andrew was alive. The druids wanted leverage—though if they had killed Seth last night, they probably would have also killed Andrew. He thanked whatever god was real for Olivia’s gifts. That fight would have gone in a completely different direction without them.

Seth left his room and headed down to the kitchen, stopping in the dining room. An iPhone box sat on the table, with a sticky note.

Compliments of Hunter-33. Your phone case couldn’t save your old one.

Shit. Seth’s phone had been very, very close to the bl- His car. Seth sprinted through the living room, down the stairs to the entryway, and threw the door open to look outside.

He let out a sigh of relief that real life wasn’t a Michael Bay movie. The windows were all shattered, one of the mirrors was missing, and a rear tire was completely deflated—not to mention the horrors done to the paintjob and doors on the left side of the Subaru—but it looked all like superficial damage. Then again, he had a feeling a gas line explosion would be fully covered by insurance. No way to say he was at fault for that—even though he was, in reality. Seth closed the door behind him as he moved back into the house and returned to the dining room, opening the iPhone and setting it up.

Hunter had gone so far as to already have it registered to him, and it began to buzz with missed messages when he powered it on. The latest was from Olivia.

Glad to see you’re already putting your gifts to use. Not glad to see you didn’t respect the note. Be more careful next time.

The next was from a number he didn’t have.

Brett.

Seth saved Sergeant Tiberius’ number in his phone before moving on to the next one. It was from Andrew. Seth swallowed and opened it.

An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, Seth. You kill my second-in-command, I hurt yours.

Seth had to stop from snapping the phone in his grip. He dialed Brett’s number.

“Go for Tib.”

“Sergeant-”

“Nah, don’t say that shit.”

“Brett.”

“That’s better. What’s happening?”

“The druids texted me through Andrew’s phone.”

“What did they say?”

“They said they’re going to hurt him since I killed one of them.”

“Well, it hasn’t happened yet. I have eyes on.”

“You what?”

“These guys might be shifters, but they have no clue how to set up a perimeter. Took me all of two phone calls and a quick drive to track down where they’re holding him, and I’m literally chilling in my car across the street from them. I guess blacked-out SUVs are too much of a meme to actually be suspicious.” Brett chuckled.

“But you can see Andrew?”

“They let him out to piss. Your friend is my kinda dude. He turned around and peed right on one of them. They roughed him up a little, but he’s fine aside from a nasty shiner.”

Seth smiled a little. That did sound like Andrew. “So he’s safe?”

“I mean, safe’s a pretty strong word for being held hostage by fucking werebears, but yeah, he’s in one piece aside from a pretty bad limp. Hey, I’m gonna try and probe their building. I’ll call you back when I’m done. Shit, where’s my National Parks ID?”

“Where is it?”

“Some way off the trail community center in the state park north of town. Pretty defensible, but honestly, these guys seem dumb as shit. Here, you’re gonna be involved anyway so wait one.”

He heard Brett moving around for a bit. “There, you’re muted on speakerphone. Alright, going in.”

He heard Brett get out of the car and start walking. A barely audible voice filtered in, getting stronger as Brett moved.

“Hey! You can’t be here, this is private property.”

“I’m pretty certain it’s not.” He heard Brett fish something out of a pocket close to wherever he had his phone. “National Park Service. I’m Agent Bjorn Focker.” Brett gave the ‘o’ in Focker a very, very vague pronunciation.

“We’re not violating any park rules.”

“Right, but this building is due for an inspection.”

“We’re holding an event. Can you come back later?”

“Afraid I can’t. I have to send up my report by close of business today, and that’s in… Two hours? I really need to do this, my boss is a huge dick. Why do you think I’m working Sunday?”

“Wait out here.”

“Uh, that’s not how this works. This is my job. And this is my park. So I’m gonna go in and just have a look around. I don’t care what weird hippie shit you’re doing out here as long as you haven’t turned this place into a meth lab, okay?” Brett started moving again, and Seth heard the slap of a hand on Brett’s chest. “Sir, you’re going to want to take your hand off me.”

“I said, wait out here.”

“Alright, fine.” He heard Brett walk again. “Guess I’ll just get a few rangers and some cops out here.”

“Wait.”

“Nah, too late man. I don’t want to work Sunday, so I’m gonna take a page from my boss’s playbook and just be a dick.”

“Wait! You can go in.”

“There we go, see, I knew we could come to an agreement.” Brett moved for a bit before Seth heard a door open and shut. They moved through two more sets of doors before Brett spoke again. “Quite the party you got here. Whoa! Dude! Nice shiner. How’s the other guy look?”

“Keep your questions to yourself,” came a voice.

“Easy there. Kid just looks like he was in a fight is all.”

“He’s fine.”

“You know, I was beat by my parents as a kid. You’re really concerning me not letting him talk. You okay, kid?” There was a shuffle. “Okay, back the fuck up, twitchy! Don’t fucking get behind me like that.” There was a dull thump.

“You broke his nose!”

“Yeah, tell your boys not to sneak up on a federal agent, then. Kid, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” came Andrew’s voice. Seth clenched his hand around the phone. “Just got into a fight a few nights ago.”

“You sure? We can walk out of here right now.”

“Mr. Focker, I don’t think this is purview of the National Parks Service.”

“No, but it is CPS’s.”

“He’s eighteen.”

“Let me see his ID, then.”

“Show him.”

“Uh-huh. Fine. I’m done here.”

“Don’t want to inspect anymore?”

“I’ve seen what I need to. Hey! I said back up.”

“You should leave now.”

“Last chance, kid.” A long pause. “Alright.”

Seth heard Brett moving quickly through three doors, followed by a car door and the sound of an engine revving. “Yeah,” said Brett. “He’s fine. I spooked them, though, so I’m getting out of here. Oh, look. They’re all staring at me. Cute. I’m gonna wave at them.”

“How many are there?”

“I saw easily two dozen, and I doubt that was all of them. One of them has a nasty, nasty burn on his face, though. Guessing that’s one of the ones you caught in that spell.”

“Tall, gray hair?”

“Yup.”

“He’s their leader.”

“Thought so, everyone had submissive body language around him. Big dude. You recovered?”

“Enough.”

“Good. I’m going to check out the coven next. I want backup, and you’re it until they mobilize a full fireteam for me.”

“I already did.”

“Oh? Denying orders?”

“I-”

Brett chuckled. “I would have done the same. So, what did you learn?”

“Uh… A lot.”

“Start with the basics. How many of them?”

“Somewhere around thirty.”

“Damn. Big-ass coven. They had Matrons, I assume? How many?”

“Five. I killed one.”

“Wait, holy shit, kid. I haven’t read the entire report yet. You killed a Matron?”

“Uh, yeah.” Seth pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and finally sat down.

“Badass. You killed them when?”

“When I first encountered them.”

“Oh, so how’d round two go?”

“They want me to side with them, so not bad. But… a girl I know is one of them.”

“Dude, nice. That’s one I don’t have for my Extranormal Service Medal.”

“Your what?”

Brett laughed. “It’s a Hunter joke. You gotta- Nevermind.” He laughed again. “So the witches don’t view you as an enemy?”

“Not right now.”

“Good, we can use that. At the very least,” he said, his voice trailing off for a second. “We can avoid dealing with them until we’ve cleaned up the shifters. Though I’m pretty certain they’re a shamanic tribe.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Shifters have one trick, and that’s shifting. Shamans… And druids too, I guess, are also proper magic-users, though each of a wildly different flavor. These guys just gave off shaman vibes. And shamans usually have a native lineage in whatever country you find them in.”

“They’re shamans then.” Seth thought back to running into their leader at David and Anthony’s party. “They’re leader told me they were descended from a Native American tribe.”

“Yup. Shamans. Narrows down my research just a bit. Listen, tell your dad you’re leaving for a little bit under Hunter directive. Pack what you need and meet me at the Hilton on 98th. They know where you live, and we don’t want another gas line incident, or worse. And my government travel card has no limit, so you’re staying with me.”

“My car is kind of out of commission? And I have school?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that last one. I’ll pick you up in an hour. Be ready.” Brett ended the call.

Seth sighed and set his phone on the table. Time to pack and get out of here.