“Thanks for letting me stay over,” Cami said, draping the blanket over her legs. It was amazing, how quickly she’d adapted to dozing on a couch every night. “I swear, it won’t be for much longer. I'd be with Helena, but her housemates complicate everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me every single night,” Jane chided. She had her back to Cami as she tended the fireplace, and because of that, it was hard to tell how she felt about the whole affair. Grateful for the company? Tired of playing hostess? “Besides, where else would you be?”

Cami shrugged. “Trintio said the bunker is promising, and he just needs to tidy it up. Y'know, I always wanted something like that as a kid, so when the aliens came…”

“They wouldn’t find you. Yeah, yeah, works when you’re a kid.” Jane’s head whipped around. “But we’re not kids anymore. Wouldn’t it feel weird?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “I mean, living in a little underground bunker right by your mom, who thinks you’re… here.”

And sure, when Jane put it that way, the whole ordeal sent a chill up her spine. The very perception of her was skewed in more than a few brains, including that of her own mother.

“It’s not the weirdest thing going on,” Cami admitted. She pulled the blanket up, cocooning herself in it. “I’m going to tell everyone tomorrow, but… I want you to know first.”

Jane raised a brow. “Wow, I don’t hear that often anymore.”

A pang bloomed in Cami’s chest. “Sorry I’ve been so caught up in…” She gestured vaguely at herself. “The whole actually being a changeling thing. And Freakspotters stuff in general. I mean, save for the dead of night, it’s hardly the two of us anymore.”

“You’re not wrong.” Jane turned back to the fireplace. “If you want me to be honest: it feels like we’re a lot more distant now. And I know that happens, especially when one of you is human and one awakens to an arcane fey form.”

Cami opened her mouth to talk, but Jane wasn’t done.

“You were the only one who treated me like a person for a long, long time,” Jane went on. “I was suddenly more than daughter of Walder’s mayor. I was Jane, who liked psychology and musical theatre and cryptozoology. Now… do you even know the show I did set design for this semester?”

Cami shook her head. “No. I don’t.”

“Exactly.” Jane still hadn’t faced her. “It just… sucks, you know? And I hope things go back to normal soon. Because I miss when we had each others’ backs.”

“I saved your life this summer,” Cami blurted out. “At the party. Which… happened.”

And that was when Jane turned back to face her. “I sure don’t remember that.” She said it jokingly, but her eyes were narrowed with skepticism.

“That’s because the fey made everyone forget!” Cami insisted. She took Jane’s hands, the other girl’s skin warm against her own--Cami was always cold, now. Like taking her vow had turned her cool-blooded. “But that’s why everyone talked about me throwing a party this summer. I guess I did, to lure out the cultists, but after Abigail died, the whole night became a blur in peoples’ memories.”

Jane studied her, scanning Cami’s face for the usual tells. “You’re lying.”

“I chose you over Abigail,” Cami pressed. “Because you’re my best friend, and it was the heat of the moment, and--”

“You’re lying!” Jane shouted. It was the loudest Cami had ever heard her, and she actually flinched back, startled. Even Jane froze, as if startled by herself.

At last, Cami said, “I can’t lie anymore, Jane. Not even if I wanted to.” The truth of it hadn’t crystallized quite yet, still distant and abstract. “Even gentle little lies.”

“Gentle little lies,” Jane echoed. She looked back to the fire, face crinkled with thought. Then she said, “Remember in eleventh grade, when you stayed the night and my grandparents were in town?”

“Huh?”

“My grandparents were here. And you stayed over because we had a group project. And my grandmother brought pemmican. She’d been going through old recipes. Remember?” Her lips quirked. “They call it the ultimate survival food.”

Cami nodded. Sure enough, that’d all happened. Years ago--back when they’d thought they were straight, for goodness’s sake--but it’d happened.

“Did you like it?” Jane asked. “The pemmican. That my grandmother brought.”

Cami blushed. “Uh, well. Um. Hm. I didn’t hate it.”

“There we go!” Jane exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Cami. Cami melted into it--when was the last time the two of them had hugged? “Guess you can't lie after all--because you always lied about the damn pemmican. Everything’s weird, and I feel like it’s going to get weirder, but apparently you saved my life, so... thanks for that.”

Cami leaned into her, cherishing the warmth. “And I’ll do it again.”

~

The early December air bit at Cami’s cheeks, even through her old wool scarf. It was one of the few things she’d taken with her before Trintio set the glamour on her mother’s house.

“Do you think my mom is okay?” she wondered aloud.

Jane gave her a look. One of her classics: the why did you have to bring that up, I’m going to spiral about it later look.

“I don’t exactly know how fey magic works,” she said. “Did Trintio tell you anything?”

“Just that my mom wouldn’t get hurt, and that I’d be able to go back when things cooled off,” Cami said with a shrug. “Not very reassuring, but he can’t lie, either.”

Jane hummed in acknowledgement. Then she asked, “Did he tell you anything about today?”

Cami shook her head. “Just gave me the address. Through my student email. Again.”

“He really likes those student emails, huh?”

They were in Walder’s residential area, both sides of the alley framed by luxurious cul-de-sacs--or more specifically, luxurious cul-de-sac backyards. Basketball hoops and trampolines leered from over sturdy wooden fences. A carousel of beige bungalows lay behind them, and before them was a path into a neighbourhood park.

Even though it wasn’t where Abigail had died, or Cassidy had been mauled, or any of the crazy shit of the last two months had gone down, just the sight of a forested path sent a chill up Cami’s spine.

She slowed to a stop, and Jane did the same.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“I don’t think so. It’s just…” Cami squinted into the shade before them. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Isn’t Rachel the one who usually gets back feelings?”

Cami snorted. “I can get them too, Jane. In fact--”

A twig snapped.

“Shit,” Cami hissed. “Now I really have a bad feeling.” She took a step forward, praying for some kind of answer--a squirrel, a serial killer, whatever, she could take it.

“Forests have animals in them,” Jane pointed out. “Come on, we don’t want t-to be late.” Her teeth chattered as she said it.

Cami stepped in front of her. “Okay, but keep behind me. If anything goes south, I’m the one with powers.”

“What’re you going to do, sprout wings and fly us out of here?”

“Ideally.”

Something moved in the darkness before them--a distinctly humanoid shape, stumbling out of the shrubs and onto the path, a mess of dark robes billowing in the wind. It collapsed in a heap of limbs.

Jane clung to Cami’s arm like it was her lifeline.

“Maybe it’s someone who needs help,” she whispered. “We should… make sure they’re still breathing.”

Cami shook her head. “I’m not getting near that thing.”

“We don’t know that it’s a thing!” Jane objected. “What if it’s some poor old woman who doesn't know where she is, and has, like, I don't know, hypothermia?”

The thing stirred. When it rose, it didn’t stand--it scrambled up onto all fours. A low growl rumbled from somewhere in its throat.

Cami stepped back, Jane moving with her.

“Poor old woman, huh?” Cami grumbled.

“What do we do?” Jane squeaked.

But Cami was already in motion.