Piles of Blueskin bodies burned. Their personal effects lay in a heap near Gus. He sat on the balls of his feet, holding his wife’s stiff hand. As Rory and Nadine approached, he wiped at his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“I’m sorry we weren’t there to help when she needed us.” Rory swallowed a shocked gasp at first sight of the dead woman’s head. Nearly cleaved in half, two large rocks rested on either side to hold the pieces together. A wave of loss swept through her and she tightened her grip on Nadine.

She winced in pain but kept her voice level. “Is there something we can do for the Blueskins to repay them and show our appreciation for their sacrifices?”

Gus placed Maggie’s hand on her chest. “Metal shirt man dead now.” His face sharpened, and he patted his knife. He stood taller and gestured to himself. “Big Chair. Need wife for babies.”

Rory and Nadine gasped.

“No witch,” he said and spat.

Maggie isn’t even in the ground or burned or whatever they do. I should learn more about their culture if we continue working with them, Rory thought.

“Healthy woman.” He pointed towards the refugee camp where the tents were already springing back to life.

“What are you going to do with her?” Rory knelt next to Maggie’s body and placed her lips against an icy hand. She couldn’t bear to look at her face any longer. It was too grisly a way for her friend to go. Gus put a tentative palm on her shoulder and she rubbed her tears away with the arm of Doc’s jacket.

“No sad. Big Chair wife buried with Big Chair in hill. She wait in blue sky for me.” He wiped at a stray tear and gave his partner one last kiss.

Rory took another deep breath to keep herself from unraveling, warmed by the unexpected tenderness of his gesture.

Gus signaled for his guards. “Take Maggie. Bury.”

The Blueskins nodded, tied a shirt around her head and delicately lifted her body before heading off towards their camp.

“Go on and find yourself a woman,” Rory said, more than a little weary after the day’s events. “Just no kidnapping, please? I’m sure there’ll be a few happy to become a Blueskin queen if you put it that way.”

He smiled at her, but his gaze remained lifeless. The loss of his wife had broken something in him, and Rory worried his eyes would always show that pain. What about the little boy—their son—who would have to grow up without his mother?

Nadine hugged her. “Are you going to be all right?”

“Yeah,” she said, unsure if it was true or not. “Just shaken a bit. But if Gus can manage, I don’t have any reason to sit around feeling sorry for myself.”

“No time either.”

“Nope. We need to see if a Daughter named Indra made it out of this mess alive.”

Grace had erected dingy gray structures where the colorful tents of the refugee’s one stood. The purpose of the setting was clear, to strip the occupants of their humanity. Each housed rows of mildewed straw beds cramped together. Small holes dug into the siding served as the only lighting for the room. Particles of dust danced up and down the lengths. The air was balmy and thick with the stench of human waste.

It was a concentration camp.

Rory held in a dry heave and said, “Not that they had a choice, but how could anyone live like this?”

Nadine shook her head.

The guard Dale jogged up to them. “Hey, get out of there. Those structures aren’t safe. We’re about to burn them down.” Recognition flickered in his eyes. “It’s you. You really did it. I don’t know how, but thank you. And congratulations.”

At no small cost either. Rory thought about saying as much, but decided not to. It was a win, but it certainly didn’t feel like one. “I’m just happy it’s over. My friend and I are looking for a Daughter named Indra. Do you have any idea where she might be? Or where any of the Daughters are?”

“Not sure, but I’m guessing they’re all busy right about now. This Indra is probably back at the temple with the rest of the Daughters.” Dale shrugged.

“If it was safe, I don’t see why not. That’s been her home for how long? Thanks, Dale,” Rory said.

“Not a problem. Gates wide open, go on ahead.”

The two witches waved their goodbyes and made their way through the winding streets of Alma to the Immaculate’s temple. Maybe she was paranoid, but the city never felt so uninviting as it did on that walk. Cautious eyes and guarded expressions avoided their gaze. Conversations died at their approach. The residents took large detours to avoid any contact with the pair.

Nadine’s lips formed a tight white line, and her face paled to match.

“The worst part is behind us.” Rory tried to keep her tone upbeat but failed.

“I was dreading this part more.”

“Why didn’t you go back with the rest to the farmhouse?”

“And make you deal with it all by yourself? It’s about time I faced some confrontation instead of letting everyone else do it for me.” Nadine forced a smile.

“C’mon. Just act like you know what you’re doing and people assume you do. It’s what I’ve done since day one and I’ve only been taken hostage or had my life threatened a few times.”

“Rory, I realize you’re trying to cheer me up. Goddess, I do. But shut up. I’m struggling not to get sick.”

They walked arm in arm the rest of the way and Rory held her tongue.

At the grand entrance of the temple, a Daughter stood out front. She watched the witches approach with a guarded expression.

“Can I help you?” she asked when they stopped.

“I’m Rory.” She attempted to shake the woman’s hand, but received only a glare. “Anyways, I’m looking for Indra.”

“She’s busy. They’re choosing a true Catherine now. Rumors are that you stole the holy artifact. So we’re having to make new rules.”

“I’m sorry?” Rory said, unable to conjure even feigned empathy.

“Nah, you shouldn’t be. The false one would’ve smelted it down if you hadn’t. A sister told me she tried already, but the fire wasn’t hot enough.” The Daughter relaxed a little and patted Rory’s shoulder.

She attempted to smile back at the woman and forced it to reach her eyes. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’re the Immaculate Daughters going to do now?”

“I need to find the witch who cleaned the lake and get down on my knees to thank her. We don’t gotta keep hauling water to the sacred pools anymore. Sounds like they’re splitting the leadership position into two parts. An unaffiliated villager will take up the political lead while we stick to the spiritual side of things.”

“That’s a wonderful plan,” Rory said, and a weight lifted from her shoulders. “If you see Indra, can you tell her Rory was looking for her? The witches want to extend whatever aid available to assist with the rebuilding efforts, and a delegate from Inboco will also arrive in the next few days to offer theirs.”

“Inboco?” The Daughter sniffed. “What’s an Inboco?”

Nadine spoke before Rory could. “The refugees speak of a place where animals exist with people still. Have you heard of those fables?”

“Sure. My big sister told me the tales to shut me up and force me to sleep.”

“That’s Inboco. It exists.”

The woman frowned the same way Rory would if someone told her Santa’s workshop existed in the North Pole. The more she thought about it, it was exactly like that. Santa wasn’t a concept anymore. The preferred folk tale those days was all about the legendary place of beasts.

“It’s true,” she added to back up Nadine’s point. “I’ve been there before. You wouldn’t believe how beautiful it is.”

The Daughter grunted and gave them a thoughtful look. “Well, I’ll tell Indra when she’s available. Not sure when that’ll be, but we’ll clean up the Grotto for you in the meantime. It’s best if you avoid it for a while.” Guilt wore over her face. “Most of us want to make things right and the rest will follow. Just give it some time.”

“We appreciate that.” Rory wasn’t certain if she should curtsy or bow and did half of both. The two witches scurried away before she died of embarrassment.

“What will they do about the refugees?” Nadine asked as they crossed the front gate.

Rory turned to her friend; her face thoughtful. “I don’t think it’s up to us anymore. We can make sure they’re treated right. Hell, I’d be willing to offer my house for a family to move into. I have a place at the farmhouse. No point in keeping two. Otherwise, Alma can run itself. I’m sick of butting in where I’m not wanted.”

“They’re more than welcome to mine, but what’ll we do?”

“Who knows? Start a farm. We could even raise some dairy cows. Do some magic. Have a hospital if we want. Only this time outside the confines of Alma. The sky's the limit. We should stay in contact with Gus and his people now, along with Inboco and Alma. No matter where we go, we’ll always be outsiders. It’s best if we serve as the go-betweens and keep our bias to ourselves.”

Nadine’s face warmed. “A life of gardening out in the open air? I’m loving the possibilities.”

“Hey, Rory?” Nadine said as they exited out the front gates.

“Hm?” Her attention drawn to the contents of the pockets on Doc’s jacket. A handkerchief, some old papers of no consequence, and a few other items without interest. She found a beat-up pair of dog tags and slipped them around her neck for safekeeping.

“How are we getting home? The Daughters asked us not to go in the Grotto for a while, and all of Rosemary’s doors are closed.”

“Fuck.” Rory moaned. She could attempt to fly, but that would leave Nadine to fend for herself. “Let’s see if we can find any of the vampires. Who knows, they might run us there.”

Nadine nodded but paled, still not warm to the vamps’ presence.

And Rory could understand why.

After searching for almost an hour, they found neither vampires nor the hidden entrance to their tunnels. “Well, shit.” Rory moaned and rested on a large rock. “Trevor,” she called in a last-ditch effort. But to no effect.

Nadine sat next to her. “He’s probably off with the old lady Billie said he hid from.”

“Who is the old lady?” Rory wondered out loud. “Do you think it was the same Ancient Bitch Mara and Rosemary were speaking about?”

“I guess it would make sense, but why does that matter?”

Rory shook her head. “It doesn’t, not really. Just Byron used to talk about his maker being an old woman who disappeared. Sounded like they respected her in the vamp community. But I doubt it’s the same.”

Nadine’s gaze drifted back to the refugees, and she started running. “We’re saved.”

“Where are you going?” Rory asked and followed. It wasn’t long before a bright ginger beard and hair came into view. “Rufus!”

The shifter turned and smiled as they approached. “I thought all your types took off already.”

“We stayed behind to help Gus put his wife to rest and talk to the Daughters.” Rory glanced at her feet. “The Daughter we spoke with asked us not to go in the Grotto, so we’re stuck. Think you’d mind giving Nadine a ride to the farmhouse? I want to see how far I can fly.”

“Sure. Give me a sec though. I found a new arrival wandering around when I was directing some soldiers from Inboco back home. Let me introduce you to, what’s your name again?” He turned to a woman who appeared to be in her early twenties with long, freshly curled hair a bright shade of platinum that only came from a bottle. Gravity ignored her breasts in a way only possible through plastic surgery.

In fact, the more Rory studied her, the more impossible it seemed for the woman to be there at all.

“Ingrid,” she said and smiled.

Rory took a deep breath and fought the urge to begin an interrogation. First, it wouldn’t look great and second, it was clear Rufus had already become enamored with the blonde. She returned the pleasantries. “Ingrid. Where are you from?”

The woman looked to Rufus, who nodded and said, “These are two of the ones I was talking about. They’re safe and they’ll believe you.”

“I’m from Sweden,” Ingrid said without a hint of accent. “I was on a train to Stockholm with some friends for a night out.”

“Wait, Sweden? Your English is superb.” Rory grew even more cautious.

“But we’re not speaking in English.” The woman shook her head and smiled. “You’re speaking to me in Swedish.”

Nadine laughed. “You’re both delirious. Everyone I’ve met here speaks French. It’s been nice, to be honest. I was horrible with English during my time in the States.” Her laughter came to an abrupt halt. “We have been speaking in French, right?”

“As far as I know, your words are all English, all the time,” Rory said. “What about you, Rufus?”

“To me, you speak the common tongue of Inboco. There’re a few remarks now and then I can’t understand, but Rosemary claimed it would happen when I met the witches. I don’t remember how she phrased it, but it had to do with magic moving us forward as a society and granting the ability to talk to each other.”

“So, magic is translating?” Nadine crossed her arms.

Rufus scratched his head. “Yeah. When it’s able. If you say something that doesn’t exist in my vocabulary, I hear your actual word. The Blueskins have an even tougher time since their speech is mostly grunts and a handful of phrases.”

“So, Sven kept his accent because I can understand his language?” Rory asked.

“Could be.” Rufus nodded.

“Doc is from the United States. Huh. Well, consider my mind blown.” She turned her attention back to Ingrid. “Are you some covert witch then? I’m not getting any magical vibes from you. Is that your gift?”

“A witch? No, sorry. Just me.”

Rufus patted Ingrid’s hand. “We’re going to Inboco for the time being while we find how she got here. I didn’t see a Starfall but we’ve been so focused on the drama, who knows? Look, Ingrid, I need to give these two a ride home.”

“Take her with us. Rosemary might have some answers and can create a doorway to Inboco from there,” Rory said. “It’ll be faster than through the wastelands.”

His freckled cheeks turned scarlet. “Ingrid doesn’t know…” He mimed his hands as hooves.

“Rufus,” Nadine made a sharp noise of reproach at him. “She’ll find out, eventually.”

The Swede frowned. “You’re talking like I’m not right in front of all of you.”

Rory felt overwhelming sympathy for the woman. It hadn’t been so long ago she was in a similar situation. So, she gave the advice she wished someone else had given her. “Shits weird around here and it’s only going to get weirder. I promise you that. Just trust that there’s good people and Rufus is one of them. Maybe a little more than that, too.”

“Okay.” Ingrid raised an eyebrow. “That sounds ominous.”

“Grab my stuff?” Rory sighed and closed her eyes, allowing the chickadee to take her body. She hopped on the ground, tweeted at Nadine, and pecked at Doc’s jacket.

“You’re even bossy as a bird,” Nadine said and picked up the discarded items, tucking the dog tags back into the coat pocket.

Ingrid’s jaw dropped, but instead of showing fear, held out a finger. Gasps of marvel escaped her throat as Rory flitted up and landed on the offered perch.

“Go on, Rufus, your turn,” Nadine said with a hand on her hip. “I want to go home. It’s been a revealing day.”

“I can’t do it with my clothes still on. They’ll tear up in the transformation. Be right back.” He took shelter behind an outcropping of rocks and bushes. Not long after, the horse lovingly named Ol’ Betts plodded out.

“Rufus?” Ingrid gasped.

The horse made a tiny bow and snorted.

“Like Rory told you, it only gets weirder so learn to accept the strange around here,” Nadine said and hopped on the horse’s broad back. She held out a hand. “Are you staying or coming with?”

Ingrid visibly considered the options, glancing around her and sighed. “All right.” She took the offered help and jumped into place behind Nadine. “Normally, I make a man buy me dinner before I ride him.”

Rufus neighed and trotted off into the distance with Rory in the sky above him.