"Rough bones, she an' I was apprentices o' Ol’ Granny Hannah,” Granny Esmer began. “Only one o' us could succeed her, an' Danielle thought it ought be her. She did no actually want to be Granny Woman, mind, did no have the Callin’. She wanted it 'cuz I did. Our relationship were… strained. When I were named successor, Danielle sought another path. Called up a devil, ate four people, an' I had to end her. Now she’s back.”

“I am sorry. I know the toll demons can take on a family. My sister and nephew, they…” He shrugged. The Granny Woman nodded.

“Danielle a'came Akis, an' I put her down. I killed her, an' buried her like I shoulda, head separate from body, silver in her heart. What came back ain't anything what I buried. She's a'come somethin’ more, somethin’ else.”

Blake rubbed his chin. If the demon Akis had indeed been a vampire before its monstrous resurrection, that would explain how the revenant had been raised. Vampires had a greater command of the undead than succubi. But Blake had never heard of a vampire returning as a demon. To the uneducated, a demon and a vampire might appear similar enough for the transformation to be plausible, but to Blake it was as if wood had transformed into diamond.

“You did not burn her?"

"I could no do that, no to Dany." Penny to dollars, Blake bet she regretted her reverence now.

"Where did you bury her?"

"In the mountains. Found a nice place over a waterfall. Green trees, good soil. Peaceful."

"Hmm.” Blake rubbed at his chin. “Can you get my bag for me? I need a couple things.”

“Got a diviner chart in there, or scryin’ bowl?” Granny Esmer asked as she stood and lumbered to the wall. She grunted as she lifted the bag, giving it and Blake an appraising look. “Heavy.”

“Need my books.” He shrugged.

“Ah, ye are a learned man.” She sat the bag next to his bed. “What ye need? Best not let ye dig through it.”

Blake sighed but did not argue. “I need my journal, and my references. I may not have heard of a vampire becoming a demon, but that does not mean no one has.”

“Sensible,” Granny Esmer said as she flipped open the bag. “Which ones?”

Blake paused at the ease with which she bypassed his wards, but kept his mouth shut about the fact. Granny Esmer would have done well in the Ordis Ferrum.

“I need the leather backed one, and the heavy blue one. Not that pocket!" The telegram lay in there, buried deep. No one could see what it held. "There it is.”

In short order, his journal and reference book lay on the bed, iron bands reflecting the blue elymis light dully. Picking up his journal, he waved his hand over the lock and flipped to an open page. His entry about the mysterious shadow creature reminded him to inquire further when given the chance.

“Pen is in…” he began. Granny Esmer already held it out, eyeing it appreciatively.

“Quite the writing tool,” she said. “Where’bouts ye get it?”

“A gift, from a friend in Neu’ork.” Blake jotted down the date and subject. Demonic (susp. succubus) presence, Sep. 7, ‘65 “Now, let us go back to the beginning. When did Dany become Akis? Do you know if Akis is the true name of the demon?”

He looked up at Granny Esmer expectant, only to see her eyes narrowed and lips tight.

“Do no talk about Dany as if she is some example from a book. She is, was, my sister. Yer tone is awful trivial for a man I rescued from Death’s door.”

“Not sure Death would take me, yet.”

Granny Esmer smacked her hand to the bedcovers by his knee. “An' do no ye fucking mutter about her either!”

“I was not-” Blake inhaled deep, despite the ache in his ribs. “I apologize. I was not disparaging your sister, I assure you. And for my line of questioning, I do not mean to make it so cold. It is simply the first step I take in all my dealings with supernatural phenomena. I must gather information from which to build an understanding. Here.”

He flipped the page back to the shadow creature entry. Granny Esmer took the book when he offered it. “This is what I am attempting to create. A place to organize my thoughts, and keep details I may forget.”

However much he may wish to forget those details. Kindale’s Fate among them, recorded forever in elymis ink. The journal containing that particular tale would be locked deep in the vaults of the Grand Temple in Neu’ork, and forgotten about, if Blake had any say.

The rustle of turning pages brought Blake out of his reverie. Granny Esmer had finished his short entry on the unknown creature and moved back through the book, beginning two weeks after the Eye Opened above Kindale. He would not have allowed her to read anything about the Eye.

“Ye’ve been busy this last year.”

Blake nodded. “Unusually so.”

“If ye did half the stuff ye wrote in here, I was right to save yer life.” Granny Esmer tossed the journal back on the bed and rubbed the back of her neck, eyes half closed. “Ain’t never seen half that shit.”

“You would have left me to die?”

She chuckled. “‘Course no. But I wouldna bothered to heal ye beyond ‘will no die.’ Ye ain’t from here, no offense.”

Blake shook his head. “None taken. Only so much you can do for outsiders.”

“Mm. I ain’t seen nothin’ like that shadow creature afore either,” Granny Esmer said and pointed to the thick blue book. “Yer guide do no mention nuthin’?”

“Nothing helpful,” Blake said. “But I am hoping it says something helpful about your sister.”

“She ain’t my sister no more,” Granny Esmer snapped. “Even less now than before.”

From the thunderous look on the Granny’s face, Blake decided it was the wiser choice not to bring up how she had defended the creature moments ago. “The more information I can gather, the better I can formulate a solution to the issue.”

“So ye need her story.” Blake nodded. Granny Esmer sighed. “I’ll give ye what I can. The devil Dany summoned were called Akisoromokevheje, an' it gave her power in return fer a blood sacrifice. She chose her husband, an' his brother. She killed a bartender'n'farmhand afore I figured what she were. Staked her through the heart with ash wood. Buried her head at her feet deep in the mountains. She were the last family I had.”

Blake winced, but recorded everything in brilliant blue ink. “The devil was Starvarian?”

“I dunno?”

“In Starvarian, Akisoromokevheje means Eater of Small Joys. At least we are not dealing with a Higher Demon. Starvarians are rather low in demonic hierarchy.” Blake rubbed at his chin. “Do you know the specific ritual she used?”

“It’s been thirty years, an' a demon spawned vampire were terrorizing the town.” The hitch in her voice prompted him to study her face in detail.

“So, yes?”

“'Course I do. What do ye take me fer, a common village woman? Granny Woman do no just mean I know how to find the best mushrooms an' birth a child. She used self-same ritual Granny Hannah taught us.”

“Your mentor taught you how to summon demons?” Concerning information if what she said was true. How many more in these mountains could do the same? Blake hoped he would not have to call an Inquisition upon the region. Peaks Prairie was still fresh on his mind, for all it had happened nine years past.

“She taught us how to recognize a summoning, an' how to banish 'em. I’ve never Called into the Dark.”

Perhaps the Inquisition was not necessary. Fortunate, as Blake hated the paperwork. “What did the ritual consist of? Summoning circle, ancient texts, use a particular artifact?”

“Summoning circle, with a stone as the focus.”

“The same stone as the Mayor’s house?” Blake asked as he wrote her answer.

“Aye, how did ye know?”

“It is not… well, it is not nice stone, to put it bluntly. It has got more than a hint of Dark about it, and something else. Seems the perfect stone for a demonic summoning focus.” The green black stone filled his mind’s eye without effort, the twisting shimmering edges sharp as a razor. Things moved in the stone, but when he focused on them, the things stilled only for more to writhe at the edges of his vision.

“Else?” The Granny did not seem skeptical. The wrongness of the stone was hard to miss.

“I cannot explain it more. The stone is not wholly of this reality. Where does it come from?”

“A mountain, up in the range. From the outside, it appears as any other mountain. Inside… the roots of it are wrong.”

Blake nodded as he wrote. “Uncovered during a mining operation, or by a lost child exploring where she should not be?”

“Minin'. How did ye-?”

“It has all happened before. Patterns to the world shape it so.” Patterns Blake spent years memorizing, analyzing. His eyes stung at the memory of the late night candle smoke as an apprentice, his master too cheap to buy clear burning candles. The Weave of Fate shifted, but the threads remained the same. “How long ago was this mine founded?”

“Afore Quincy Hill were a town. Old Man Quincy an' his sons, they built the old town up in the hills, an' sunk the mine shafts. Diggin’ fer silver, they were. They found somethin' else.”

“Town was abandoned because of what they found?”

“Abandoned 'cuz o' what they did no find. Ain’t no silver left in 'em mountains. First People took it fer 'emselves.” Blake looked at the Granny Woman in surprise.

“Quincy was not the first one to dig in the mountains? The Ytians were first?”

“Aye. Where’d ye think Granny Hannah learnt the black stone ritual?”

With a sigh, Blake rubbed at his temple. The beginnings of a headache rested there. “Of course. And the Mayor was drawn to the stone because it resonated well with the Dark worshipper in him. I am going to need a closer look at some of this stone.”

It was not a thing he was looking forward to. The way the stone moved was not how rocks should move. Stone should not move at all! Dark, twisted, it was like no substance from the mortal Earth. A sinister presence, one that reminded Blake of-.

“Oh, by the Name of Yeshas,” he said and smacked his leg, startling Granny Esmer.

“What? What is it? Yer wound achin’?” she asked, leaning forward in concern.

“No, no.” He waved his hand to dismiss her concern. “The Ytians, the ones native to these mountains. What did they do with the stone they found? They taught Granny Hannah the summoning. Did they use the stone to bring more things here?”

“The Ytian shaman who learned Granny Hannah warned her away from the stones, an' would no speak fer much when I asked later. But I can be persuasive.” Granny Esmer gave Blake a grim smile. “The natives, they used to worship… somethin', long afore the rest o' us came over the ocean. Whatever were here has been buried fer millenia. Whenever I asked, the Elders would no or could no tell me more'n it were forbidden to voice aloud. I know it's somethin' Evil they worshipped, even if it ain't Dark. Somethin'…" she trailed off, lacking the words to continue. Blake knew what she was feeling.

"Something Other."

“Aye. Ye know of it?"

“The thing I saw, the scar in my soul energy? It was Other." Blake leaned forward, focused on Granny Esmer’s eyes. “Akisoromokevheje returned April 9th, did she not?”

The way Granny Esmer’s eyes widened told him he was correct. He nodded, grim realization filling his mind. "April 9th is when Man breached the Other for the first time. Something came to Earth then. Something Evil.”

“It were no the first time,” Granny Esmer said, voice a whisper. Blake shook his head.

“It was not. These mountains are old. Older than civilizations, older than the Word. The natives found a way to reach the Other. Or the Other was already here.”

“An' since Akis were a product o' the Other, least in part, this Breach allowed whatever magic empowerin' her to, what, bring her back to life?” Granny Esmer asked. Blake was impressed with how fast the Granny Woman understood what he meant.

“Not as such,” Blake said. “I encountered a monster presenting as a succubus, while you said Akisoromokevheje was a vampire when you slew her. I think the Breach allowed the Other to change whatever remnants remained of her.” He rubbed his chin. “The Breach theory would explain the increased monster activity in the last few months. Gigante are peaceful beasts, but one destroyed the train I was travelling on before I came to Quincy Hill.”

“Spirits have been restless these last months,” Granny Esmer nodded.

“Now we have determined a probable type, let us see what I can find in here,” Blake said. The blue book creaked as he opened it, tiny cramped text filling the yellowed sheets. He flipped through the pages, discarding the immediately irrelevant subjects. “Homunculus, no. Kelpie, no. Transformation? Blood sacrifice. Hmm. No. Green magic, no. I suspect this is not a typical case.”

The Granny Woman laughed. It was a deep and boisterous laugh, one Blake felt served as a relief mechanism for Esmer. “No, I suspect ye may be right. Nothin' normal at all. Anythin' in there about faeries? Aerish, specifically.”

“Do you think there is a faerie involved? Faer folk and demons do not get along, in my experience.”

“No, I’ve always been interested in faeries since I were a girl. Me nan were from Aerland an' told me all the tales. I were wonderin’ what ye could share 'bout ‘em.”

“Plenty,” Blake said. “But I prefer to focus on the otherworldly demon at the moment.”

Granny Esmer waved her hand. “If we survive, tell me 'bout ‘em then.”

“If—” Blake was interrupted by the sound of splintering wood and the scream of Mistress Harper. Before Blake could react, Granny Esmer was standing beside the door, black staff held in position to strike. The speed of her movement startled him, not only for her age. He had seen few people capable of such agility, and those among monsters evolved for such speed. The staff itself startled him, for all he had not noticed it before.

A gnarled staff the thickness of three fingers and taller than its wielder, the wood was a blackened purple hue with lines of silver arcing throughout. Without closer examination, Blake could not be certain, but the appearance and the Feel of the staff told him it was a taking from the lightning struck black walnut he had encountered days before. A potent tool if it was so, one Blake would not mind for his own use.

Footsteps thumped outside the room. Heavy and steady. Then a second pair. Blake was not sure, but they sounded like the footsteps of Legs, the giant brute enthralled by the Lady Kath—Akisoromokevheje . The door rattled as something large impacted it, warding runes flaring into existence along the frame in response. Blake was impressed, the runes were good work. Clean and precise. He supposed the Granny Woman had a hand in the creation, it was doubtful the farmwife Harper would have experience with such lore.

The second impact cracked the wood, and the runes flickered before burning out in a puff of smoke. Whoever was behind the door could give quite the hit. In the breath before the inevitable third strike, Granny Esmer tightened her grip on the staff and gave Blake a smile accompanied by a wink of her heavy lidded eye.