Mr. Geiller waved a hand. "Never mind that for the moment." Never mind the statement that their only source of food was potentially killing him?! "When you say you're from a different reality, do you mean that your old world followed different rules? How did magic work?"

"You just want to ignore—fine, but we're talking about this whole killing myself thing more!" Mr. Geiller made a "get on with it" gesture, and Jonathan ground his teeth. "There was no magic in my world. There were people who believed in things like demons, but there was no physical evidence that anything like that ever existed. I'd never heard of these five realms or whatever before I came here."

"Hm, so starting from nothing. Very well. To create magical effects, people must connect to and channel the energies of one of the five realms. Individual people's innate aptitude for magic varies greatly, but pretty much everyone has some level of magical capability, which is why magical tools are so prevalent." That must be referring to things like the lantern that Abigail had used the previous evening. "Now, aside from overall aptitude for magic, which can be trained, people usually have affinity to only one or two realms, which restricts the types of magic they can cast. For instance, my affinity is to the Abaddon Expanse, and we don't know Abigail's affinity yet because she hasn't been tested, though I would lay good odds on it being Fractal Gardens."

"Okay, that's great, but why do I care? I'm a lot more interested in why you think doing magic might be killing me."

"Be patient. Though it's rare, there are people with an affinity for the Infernal Abyss. There have also been a small number of recorded cases of people summoning demons and contracting them to grant the ability to channel the Infernal Abyss. There are no recorded instances of this not proving immediately lethal. The energies of the Infernal Abyss are toxic to humans."

"If that's the case, then why didn't I die as soon as I summoned Abigail her first sandwich?"

Mr. Geiller glared at Abigail. "You summoned a demon for a sandwich? Of all the—never mind." He returned his focus to Jonathan. "If you were a human, you'd have died as soon as you connected to the Infernal Abyss. I don't know if you weren't actually what we would consider a human in your original world, or if the transition changed you, or if this demon you mentioned might have done something unprecedented. But assuming you are somewhat human, then the pain you're feeling when you perform magic suggests that it is not healthy for you. That's why I said that you're probably killing yourself."

Jonathan just stared at Mr. Geiller. What he was hearing…was that he was going to have to choose between shortening his lifespan and finally obtaining pants?! "So what am I supposed to do? Magic is the only way we've been able to obtain any food!" Oh, there was a thought! "Will you feed us?"

Mr. Geiller scoffed. "Not on your life."

"Mr. Geiller!" yelled Abigail with indignation.

Mr. Geiller leaned forward and stabbed a finger toward Abigail. "Look, girl, neither of you are my responsibility. I have neither the funds nor the desire to support anyone other than myself. You should never have messed around with demonic summoning rituals at your age in the first place." He sat back. "That said, this is a fascinating situation. I am willing to offer some of my time and expertise to help the two of you explore this absurd scenario you've managed to engineer, but that is all!"

Jonathan had a pretty good idea why Abigail had been reticent to come over to Mr. Geiller's house with him, at this point. This guy was a dyed-in-the-wool asshole. "Then what are we supposed to do about food? Is there anyone out there with a conscience who'd likely help us?"

Mr. Geiller snorted. "How would I know? There's a fool born every second, but good luck finding them. The Quints would likely love to take you in, but I don't think you'd enjoy that much."

"Quints?"

"The Church, boy, the Quintarchal Church! You really aren't from this world, are you?"

"Why would the church be interested in me?"

"The vast majority of demonic summonings are performed by the Quints. I'm honestly surprised Abigail here was able to dig up a grimoire with a working summoning circle in it. They really don't like those."

"Wait, the church summons demons? Wouldn't they want to exterminate them?"

Mr. Geiller gave him a strange look. "I'm not going to go into the details of Church dogma. Waste of my life. Go talk to a priest. But I will warn you that saying something like that will immediately out you as some brand of foreigner."

That was seeming more and more like something Jonathan couldn't avoid.

"In any case, we got sidetracked by your little attempt to guilt me into giving you handouts. The important point is that you may or may not be killing yourself, but you're not dead yet. So I might be wrong about your magic." Mr. Geiller sat back. "I'm not telling you not to use magic, I'm telling you to pay attention to whether that pain you mentioned gets worse or not and if I were you I wouldn't do too much magic all at once. I've read about instances of people whose affinity for a realm is suddenly increased for whatever reason reporting pain or physical symptoms when overdrawing. Could be that's what you're experiencing."

"You couldn't have led with that?" said Jonathan with a sour look at the old curmudgeon.

Mr. Geiller shrugged, unrepentant.

"Okay, so you say you'll devote a bit your oh-so-precious time and expertise to us. What do you mean specifically?"

"Right, well first off Abigail clearly needs some grounding in basic magical theory, or she wouldn't have tried such a stupid stunt. I'm not a teacher, and I hate kids, but I'm guessing you aren't going to have any way to get her a proper teacher and I really don't want to deal with you blowing up the orphanage or loosing a rogue demon or what-have-you."

Abigail looked indignant. "I would never—"

Mr. Geiller waved her protests away. "Don't care. Starting tomorrow, I want you over here at 14:00."

Jonathan scowled. "We don't have any way to tell time in the orphanage."

"They took all the clocks, eh? Fine, then just come over around noon-ish when the sun's direct overhead. I'll go sit on my porch when I'm ready for you. Don't come over if I'm not out!"

Jonathan got a gleam in his eye. "If Abigail's coming over at noon, how about you feed her lunch? Surely you can spare enough food to feed a nine-year-old."

Mr. Geiller scowled. "Fine! Have it your way. As for you, Mr. I'm-Not-A-Demon, I don't want you on my property. I think you're probably telling the truth, but there's still a possibility it's just a longer con. After I have a chance to setup a proper containment array, I'll tell Abigail and we can do some proper tests to see if we can figure out what's going on with you."

"That doesn't make me very happy, but alright."

"Good. Wonderful. And in that vein, both of you get out of my house. You've wasted enough of my time today."

Jonathan held up a hand. "Just wait a minute, there! This whole encounter went sideways as soon as you started threatening me with your murder medallion or whatever that thing is. I mainly came over because I wanted to know who owns the orphanage, and if we're likely to run into any trouble living there."

"How would I know?" grumbled Mr. Geiller. "You think I've ever given a damn about managing an orphanage?"

Boy, did Jonathan ever want to send some choice profanities Mr. Geiller's way, but Abigail was still tracking the whole conversation from the sidelines. "Surely you have some idea who owns the land, at least."

"Everything east of my property is royal grant, that's all I know." Mr. Geiller stood up, and Jonathan grudgingly followed suit.

"What about the water?" he asked, as Mr. Geiller herded them out the door. "Does that require utility payments to keep flowing?"

"You think I've ever managed a royal grant? I imagine it's included as part of the property. Go talk to someone who cares." And Mr. Geiller shoved them out onto his porch and shut the door in their faces.

"Well, I see why you didn't want to talk to him," said Jonathan ruefully. "C'mon, Abigail, let's head home."

He was several steps toward the archway leading off Mr. Geiller's property when he realized that Abigail wasn't keeping pace with him. Turning around, he found her several feet back, looking troubled. "Abigail?"

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you about being human!" she burst out. "I just didn't see—I couldn't—"

"Hey, hey, calm down there, kid!" Jonathan leaned over so his eyes were level with Abigail's. "I admit, I haven't been very happy with how you kept blowing me off when I was telling you the truth, but I can see why you didn't believe me."

"You're not mad?"

"Do I look mad? Sure, it was a little—okay, a lot—annoying, but now you know better."

Abigail sniffed. "But Mr. Geiller said you were hurting yourself every time you used magic, that you could die—"

"He also said he had no idea what's going on. Magic takes it out of me, sure, but honestly being able to perform magic is kind of a life-long dream of mine, so it's not like it's all bad. And now that I know it might be dangerous, I can pay attention and make sure not to push myself too hard."

"You're sure? Because—"

"GET OFF MY LAWN!" Mr. Geiller yelled from inside the house.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Come on, Abigail, let's go." As she passed him, he turned around and gave Mr. Geiller's house the finger.

Probably didn't mean what he thought it did, but boy did it ever make him feel better.