The result of Rosemary’s plan led to Rory being caged in her bird form. A curiosity to draw bystanders who could share rumors. It was a solid idea. But the shape change had to be brought on by Rosemary, as Rory still couldn’t get the spell right. In the fragile body of the bird along with the cage, unable to transform, she was helpless if things went awry.

As they drew closer to the refugee camp surrounding Alma, Rory, motion sick from the swinging of her pen, felt an oozing sickness creep into her. The once bustling life of the refugees, those waiting for their turn within the safety of Alma, had grown silent. There were no cook fires, no tents, no music, no sign of the blossoming culture it contained. Instead, they were hidden away by a second wall; thick, imposing and topped with razor wire.

All the people in charge needed to complete the picture-perfect image of a prison would be a handful of searchlights.

Two guards, whose faces Rory didn’t recognize, approached. One on either side. Rosemary put up a hand in greeting. The guards narrowed their eyes at her.

This is a horrible idea, Rory thought.

“Well, it looks like someone made changes since the last time I’ve been to Alma.” Rosemary cackled. She’d cast an illusionary spell on herself that aged and withered her appearance. Before she passed for a wizened fifty, but with the illusion in place, she looked on her deathbed. Her silver-streaked blonde hair had thinned and whitened.

“Who are you then?” one guard asked. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, with dark hair and nearly black eyes, the brown was so deep.

“My name is Brigitte,” Rosemary said without pause. “I used to live in the camp but left about forty years ago. It was probably longer, but the old mind is failing me these days.” Her tone on the last sentence turned apologetic.

“Where d’you run off to then?” The other guard moved towards her, focused on Rory’s little cage.

“Not too close, Ryan. She could be a witch. Are you a witch, Brigitte?”

Rosemary tittered, and a flap of flesh under her chin shook. “Do I look like a witch? My fingers ache of arthritis and my vision is dim with age.”

“No,” Ryan said. “The women we’re looking for are young and pretty. I’ve seen the Green Witch myself, and she’s got a rack that could set a man on fire. Magic or no.” Both men exploded into laughter. When he finally got a hold of himself, Ryan pointed at the cage. “What’s that you got there?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” Rosemary’s eyes sparkled. “I found the land of myth. Where the beasts of legends and history still roam. This is a bird. If I didn’t have this little thing in a cage, it would fly into the sky.”

“Dale, you hear this shit? This crazy old lady thinks she found a fairytale land.”

“Quiet.” His dark eyes blazed, and he hissed. “Do you want to get yourself killed? If the new Catherine heard you speak like this…”

The two men stared daggers into Rosemary until she clucked her tongue and sighed.

“You’ll have to forgive my intrusion. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. My wagon broke a wheel down the road. I could pay handsomely for some help. Not money, but I’ve brought animal skins for leather and”—she narrowed her eyes and signaled for them to come closer—“There’s wine if you’d like a sip. Fresh from their vineyard. Ever tried that before?”

The men stared at her greedily and shook their heads in the negative.

Dale said dreamily, “I’ve heard of it, though. My Dad said it tasted sweeter than an Immaculate Daughter’s pussy. Don’t think he ever had one of those.”

“We might, huh?” Both men fell into a fresh bout of laughter. “What with so many dropping the robes.”

The men huddled, whispering softly to each other before breaking apart, and Dale stepped forward. “I’ll go. Ryan here’ll tend the door. If I’m not back in ten minutes, he’s raising the alarm.”

“Oh, we won’t even be that long, I’m only over the hill. My old back could barely take this brief walk as it was. Would you mind helping me?”

Dale offered his arm, as calmly as if he helped his own grandmother.

“What a dear. If only my granddaughter were still around. The Blues took her, you know. What wretched creatures. I can only hope she’s not alive for her sake and not carrying a bastard inside of her. You know how it is, right?”

Dale nodded sincerely, and his face darkened. “They’re a blight on this world. Like the Catherine says, we must wipe the unnatural from existence. We’ll start with the witches and move on to the Blueskins. I’ll remember your name Brigitte and say a prayer for your granddaughter for each one I kill.”

Rory tried telling Dale exactly what she thought of that, but it came out as a pretty tune.

“Listen to my little bird, she has so much to say about your words. Why, she must be as inspired as I am.” Rosemary gazed lovingly at Rory and winked.

They arrived at the cart with a broken wheel. Betts—or Rufus rather—waited patiently as always. Rory twittered a greeting, and the horse neighed back.

“So, you’re a member of the militia in Alma?” Rosemary asked as Dale fidgeted with the wheel.

“I am. I lead a group of my own men, actually. Take my orders from the Catherine herself.”

“What fortune to find such a powerful man as you.”

Dale blushed as she loaded on the praise.

Cheerfully, Rory sang, “Fuck you.”

Rosemary clapped her hands at her song. “Such wonderful music birds make. Don’t you think Dale? Here,” Rosemary said, once he finished changing the wheel. “Taste it, have some before you have to share. It’s your payment for a job well done.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He nodded and took a large swig from the wineskin. “This is good.” He drank more greedily.

“Careful now, it packs a punch.”

“I’ll be sh-fine,” his words slurred and his eyes crossed. He fell ungracefully, bumping his head on the side of the wagon before landing on the ground. Out cold.

“Your alchemist friend said it would work fast.” She opened the cage and Rory hopped out. The older witch said a few words, and Rory shifted back into her human form.

The two women bound Dale up, tossed him in the wagon and headed back to the farmhouse.

Dale came to, bound to a chair in the root cellar. They’d lit a few torches for effect and made sure the edge of Sven’s lab was in view. It made it all the more witchy. To add to the effect, Rory wished she had access to the spider webbing available during Halloween. She wanted to go all out and scare the hell out of the guy.

“Morning, cupcake,” she said and sat in a chair facing him.

His mouth gaped at her. “Who are you?”

“Don’t recognize me? That’s fine. I’m the other witch you met at the gate.”

His eyes widened and all the color drained from his face. “Were you the old woman?”

“Guess again.” Rory giggled at him. I might be having too much fun with this.

“The bird?”

“Tweet tweet, bitch.”

He started screaming, and she put a finger to his lips.

“Shh. You really don’t wanna do that. See, I won’t hurt you. But what’s outside, will.”

“Oh, dear Immaculates, what’s outside?” Beads of sweat dripped from his hairline.

“Seen any vampires around Alma lately?”

“Shit, they’re here? You have them? They’re working for you?”

“Think of them as free agents. But yes. They’re here, and it’s been a really long time since they’ve had blood straight from the source.” Apart from Billie but he enjoyed it and that was beside the point. “Also, don’t you try to get away. Another of my friends is watching and I have a sneaking suspicion you can’t run as fast as he can.”

The shadows parted, and Asher in his feline form sauntered out. A thick growl shook out of him before he settled at the guard’s foot and licked his chops.

Rory excitedly mouthed, “Perfect.”

And the leopard rolled his eyes.

Dale returned his attention to her, taking frequent glances back at Asher’s cat form. “What do you want? I’ll tell you anything you want to know if you let me live.”

“See, that wasn’t hard. I really didn’t want to use my magic on you since it’s kind of a bummer. I want us to be friends.” At the close of her statement, she might have smiled a little too wide. She straightened and said, “Before you start, I need to get someone else down here. She can keep track of the finer details. Holga? He’s ready to talk.”

“You nailed the creepy vibe in the basement,” Holga said as she walked down the stairs. “The glow from the portals adds a layer of otherworldly ambiance I wouldn’t have expected.” She blinked at Dale and back to Rory. “He’s wet himself.”

“Yeah, that happened when Asher appeared,” Rory said and wrinkled her nose at Dale. “Let’s get on with it so we can get you home, all right? What’s with the double walls outside Alma?”

“They’re, um, protection.” Sweat poured heavily down his face, stinging his dark eyes, causing them to water too.

Rory warmed her tone with as much authenticity as she could muster, she said, “Dale, I really want us to be friends. I’m sorry for the theatrics and the tricking you thing and the drugging you thing.” She made a face and sighed. “But you wouldn’t have just gotten into the cart and talked to us. We’re not nearly as bad as Grace makes us out to be.”

“Hold on. Now, I remember you, you’re the hot chick that worked at the clinic. You and the big witch, Doc, helped my sister-in-law when she almost miscarried.”

“I remember her. Christine, was it? Did we hurt her? Did we hurt any of our patients?”

“No, but the Catherine says that’s the way you trick us. You lure us in with false promises and pretty smiles before you sacrifice us to fuel your magic later.”

Rory looked up at the ceiling and counted backwards from ten before responding. “I see. So, you’ve never seen witches harm anyone?”

“No. Not yet, at least.”

“Okay, but what about Grace?”

Dale blanched.

“From your reaction, it’s safe to say you’ve witnessed her perhaps torture someone.” She placed a reassuring hand on his knee.

He flinched but didn’t protest. “Yeah. I’ve seen things in her chamber I wish I hadn’t.” His eyes misted over.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna untie you since we’re civilized people here. All right? That way we can have a pleasant conversation like two people. Will you promise not to hurt anyone here?”

“I promise.” He gasped as she released him from the bonds.

“That’s better. Would you like a glass of water or something to eat? I give you my word they won’t be drugged or tampered with.”

“Water, please. If it’s clean.”

“We can purify our water just as well over here. If not a little better.”

Doc arrived with a glass and handed it to him. They were all working as one flawless machine. It sent a less chaotic, ‘we stand together as one’ vibe. Doc lingered behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. A chill of excitement worked through her.

Asher yawned.

She looked down and scratched her nose to hide a grin. Once composed, she gave her full attention to Dale. “All right, now what’s going on in Alma?”

The man looked at all the witches gathered around him and deflated. “All right. Because you helped Christine and my nephew, Jeffy is alive thanks to you…” He exhaled and his Adam’s apple bobbed with a hefty gulp. “The old money in Alma ended up backing Grace for her takeover. There’s a rumor that allowing witches to stay in town was hurting their profits and they couldn’t have that. Another rumor was the elites didn’t want to live next door to the tenters… er, refugees.”

He took another drink and smacked his lips. “Good stuff.” He shifted uncomfortably.

“It is, but you’re delaying your story,” Rory said and took his hand. Doc huffed in disapproval behind her. “You’re safe. Tell me. Please. We need to know so we can make things right.”

Dale shivered and wiped at his face. “It was the elites’ idea to turn the refugee area into an internment camp of sorts. Free labor and they don’t have to live next to them. They’re given scraps to eat and only the clothes on their backs when they arrive. It’s awful. Worst part is, the Immaculate Daughters are backing it. They say it’s for the greater good, but few of us regular folk see it that way.”

Rory moved her hand to Doc’s and squeezed. He pulled his away and put them in his pockets. What the fuck? He’d never pulled away from her before. Especially when she needed him. She looked down and frowned. “We’ll do what we can. Thank you for your help. Is there anything else I can do for you while you’re here?”

“You’re not going to hurt me?” Dale looked surprised.

“No. We’re not. If you haven’t noticed, that’s not our way, and I really hope you spread that to some sympathetic ears. Just be very careful who you talk to, though. Don’t get yourself hurt for our sakes.”

“You have no idea. The camp isn’t just for the refugees anymore. It’s where they send anyone who stands up against the new regime. It wouldn’t just be me that gets sent there either. My entire family, Jeffy even, would get locked up in there.”

“Please be safe then. We’ll make our moves as quickly as we can.” She stood and nodded to Doc. “We’re going to put a bag over your head. I hope you understand, we can’t have you knowing where we are.”

Doc walked the blindfolded Dale to Rufus, who would drop the guard off on the far outskirts of Alma.

Rory followed them outside, standing on the great porch in front of the farmhouse and sat in a large old wicker chair. Her eyes never leaving Doc as he hefted the man on the back of the horse.

He mumbled a few words she couldn’t make out to them both before Rufus trotted away.

With a jaw clenched so tight she could almost hear his teeth crumbling, Doc passed by her with barely a glance.

“Wait,” she said and stood. Her hand rested on his upper arm.

He shrugged it away. “Not in the mood, Rory. Me or Asher. You can’t keep stringing us both along.” The front door slammed behind him before she could respond.

She slouched back into the chair and put her head in her hands.

Doc was right, she’d have to choose, eventually. But more important things—things that involved sparing human lives mattered beyond her simple hormonal impulses.

How would she live up to her promise to Dale? How could she save all the innocents with only a few witches?