Everything hurt.

Peter stopped his hike across the city to lean against the side of a building.

“Hi, Mr. Foedus. I’m Peter,” he muttered to himself. “In a past life, I was an overweight, sedentary accountant, so I thought I’d come work for you as an overweight, sedentary accountant, but maybe you could arrange for someone to beat the living piss out of me as well? You can? Great! Boy, did I put one over on you guys.”

He pushed himself off the wall, his body screaming obscenities over his refusal to lie down in the street and just die already. Instead, he did his best to ignore it and continue plodding home. Hell, if it weren’t for the Willpower and Endurance gains from his brutal training session, he’d probably be asleep on a park bench somewhere.

One hour. That’s all it took. One hour spent doing nothing but short sword drills without an opponent. They hadn’t even decided which Skills he was going to learn!

Yep, Peter. You sure are the smart one.

Stepping onto the Cirque du Chânce, Peter looked both ways and sighed.

Arbitrarily picking a direction, he got about twenty steps in before he realized he could just read the street numbers. Which he did. Then he turned around and walked the other way.

“It’s like a frigging football stadium,” he muttered under his breath.

When Peter finally got within sight of his house, he discovered a large cart parked outside. A man and a woman were in the process of unloading it, hauling the contents inside one at a time. Or at least he thought they were a man and a woman. It was hard to tell when they were both lizard people. One of them had a frill on their neck, so that probably meant something?

By the time Peter reached the cart it was empty and the movers hadn’t returned, so he headed on inside. Immediately upon stepping through the door he heard a loud banging noise upstairs, giving him a pretty good idea where they had gone, if not what they were doing.

“Peter?” Beth called from the sitting room, and he turned to look at her.

His eyes went wide.

The room was transformed. Not only were there couches, end tables, and a bookshelf—which for some reason only had one book on it—there were even a couple of paintings adorning the walls. Beth, too, looked different.

“You got new clothes!” he said with a grin.

“I did,” she said, getting up and giving him a quick kiss. “So did everyone else. Plus the house, as I’m sure you noticed.”

He nodded and looked around. “The room looks great! I can’t wait to see the rest of it.”

Beth grinned. “Come on, let me show you around.” She grabbed his hand to pull him down the hall, only for him to let out an involuntary yelp of pain as he yanked his hand out of her grip.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she said, looking at him in surprise.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said, grimacing and biting his lower lip to stifle the stinging in his palm.

“Oh, okay,” she said, her words thick with sarcasm. “So that was just one of your normal girlish squeals? Good to know.”

He cringed. “You know how I asked them to teach me a bit of basic fighting?”

She looked at him askance. “And?” she said in a flat voice.

He held up his right hand, palm facing her.

“Peter!” she exclaimed, taking his hand and inspecting it. “Honey, this looks awful. How did you get so many blisters? “

“By being a stubborn idiot?” he offered, stepping past her and heading into the bathroom. He ran cold water over his hand, sighing at the temporary relief granted by the chill. “The instructor—Ian’s his name, though I like to think of him as Satan—told me I couldn’t go home until I increased my Willpower. Which required me to keep going despite the pain. I tried to explain that my hand was being torn to shreds, but he kept saying, ‘That’s the point.’”

He shook the water off his hand and gently padded it dry with the real, actual towel now hanging in their bathroom. “Personally, I think the guy is just a sadist.”

Beth glared at him. And also at the brand-new towel that now had bloody marks on it. “I’m upset with you. This is my upset face.”

“I know it is.”

“Do you recognize it?”

“I do.”

“I use it when I’m upset with you.”

“I’ve noticed.”

She pulled him into a hug. “Okay, I’m done now.”

“That was quick.”

She pulled her head back and looked him in the eye. “How on earth did you get an accounting job that also teaches you sword fighting?”

“I know. I’m brilliant.”

“That’s not what I mean!” she said, thwacking him in the chest as she stepped away. “You’ll be sitting at a desk. Why do you need to learn how to use that.” She gestured emphatically at the sword strapped to his belt.

Peter sighed. “We’ve been over this.”

“I know, I know,” she said, shuddering and looking away from the weapon. “I can’t believe they agreed to it. I can’t believe I agreed to it.”

“It makes sense for them to get onboard,” he said. “If I’m going to be walking around with their secrets in my head, it stands to reason that they don’t want me totally defenceless when I’m not on their compound.”

Beth frowned at him. “Peter, I didn’t marry an idiot. We both know it’s more than that. They didn’t simply accept your request; they added to it. That means something.”

“I know,” he said resignedly. “Ian even suggested the same thing.”

“Isn’t he part of the Foedus Family?”

“No, he’s a mercenary, not a member of House Laws.”

She sighed. “Well, it doesn’t make up for what he did to your hand, but at least he’s talking some sense. After all, we—”

There was a bang upstairs, followed by swearing in some foreign language.

“What’s going on up there?” he asked.

“That’s Frank and Marco,” Beth said, “they’re getting the beds set up in the rooms.”

“Frank and Marco? I thought they were a boy and a girl.”

“They are. Frank has the frill, and Marco is his wife.”

Peter turned to look at her. “Marco is a girl’s name here?”

She shrugged. “Apparently the names of known Legends tend to become popular; that’s why so many of the names here sound familiar.”

“But Marco is a guy’s name.”

“So were Ashley and Lindsay at one point,” she noted wryly.

“Fair enough,” Peter said, conceding the point. He looked upstairs. “I should probably help, but I don’t think my hand would hold up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. They’re being paid for their efforts. Angela might even be able to help with your hand, come to think of it. Follow me.” Grabbing the front of his shirt, she tugged him down the hall and into the kitchen where Peter got his next surprise.

They had a table. And chairs. And pots, and pans, and bread on the counter. He walked over to the cupboard and opened it up, discovering some kinds of tuber beside some dried goods. There was even meat in an honest-to-god icebox.

He wiped a pretend tear from his cheek. “It’s beautiful.”

Then he really processed what he was looking at. “Hon, there’s no way we got enough money from the silverware to buy all this.”

“You’d be surprised,” she said. “Darius said we made out like bandits. We still had to borrow a bit of money, but having the place livable is worth it.”

Peter swung around to stare at her. “Tell me you didn’t borrow money from a Family.”

She looked confused. “Not just any Family, obviously. We had to make our purchases at Laws-owned businesses to get your discount, but they said the rates would be good since you work for them.”

“Beth! What were you thinking!” He grabbed his head, ignoring the pain in his hand. After all his work negotiating a contract that would have allowed them to switch Families! “Now that we owe them money, we’re basically…oh god, there must be a way to get out of this. Why couldn’t you have—”

He looked at her again.

“You’re messing with me.”

“Peter! How could you possibly make such an accusation?” she said with a mischievous grin.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he groaned, plunking down in one of the chairs by the table, waiting for his heart to slow. At least it seemed like his wife had a bit of life back. She’d been a zombie that morning, and while she was sure to have periods of depression as she dealt with her trauma, for right now at least, he was glad to see her smile.

“Oh, lighten up,” she said, sitting across from him. “I did borrow some money, but it was from Darius. He practically insisted, and he knew we’d pay him back once you got your first cheque.” She cocked her head. “Actually, how do they pay people here? Do they use cheques? I can’t imagine they just give you a bag of money. That seems wildly unsafe.”

Then she pointed at his hand. “And you walking around with that isn’t safe either. It will get infected. Fortunately, I know someone who has been waiting for just such an opportunity.” Turning to the back door, she shouted, “Angela! I have your trial patient!”

Peter barely got a chance to blink before his daughter burst excitedly through the door. As soon as she saw Peter, her eyes lit up.

“You hurt yourself? That’s awesome!” she said, practically giddy over the news.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “You know, most girls get upset when their dad gets hurt.”

“Yeah? Well, most girls can’t do magic,” she said as she skipped into the kitchen, her brother sauntering in from the backyard as she passed the door. There was something in Angela’s hand that Peter couldn’t see, but whatever it was, she added some water from the tap and used her finger to mix it in her palm before heading over to him.

“Don’t just sit there; let me see!” she said as she approached the table, using a foot to pull out the chair beside him and plunking herself down.

He glanced into her hand, frowning at what looked like some kind of black paste.

“It’s just some charcoal and water, dad. Now, show me where you got hurt.”

“You sure you’re not planning to kill me for the family fortune?” he asked.

“You let me know when we get one, and I’ll kill you then, okay?”

“Deal,” he said, turning over his right hand and showing her his torn-up palm.

“Holy hell, dad,” she said, looking up at him. “What did you do?”

He grimaced as she poked at it. “Put it this way: I’m almost at Tier-I in Short Swords and 1-Handed Weapons, but the method used also increased my Constitution.”

Angela grinned widely. “That sounds awesome. Did you get anything else?”

He tried to remember, but he’d been so beaten up when the session ended that he hadn’t thought about it too much. “Willpower, I think? Maybe a point in Endurance as well? Oh, and Dexterity. Plus, pain in every single muscle in my body. Can’t forget that.”

Angela’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? You got four Base Attribute points and what, 4 or 5 points to two different Skills each? And all it cost you was a sore body and some blisters? Did that golden goose lay any eggs we should know about?”

Peter cocked his head. When she put it that way, he had to agree that it was a pretty good haul for a couple hours’ work.

“No, no geese that I know of,” he said, “but I’ll let you know if I find any. How about you? Any luck with your spells?”

“Damn straight!” she said enthusiastically. “I can cast a tracking spell now, and I finished a quest at lunch that gave me some hints about the spell I’m about to do on you. Give me your hand.” Without waiting for him to move, she grabbed his wrist, tugging his hand towards her and pulling a sprig of mistletoe out of her pouch. The end of the stem looked sharpened, and she dipped it into the charcoal paste, using it to draw something on his palm while carefully avoiding the open wounds.

Peter leaned in. Whatever she was drawing, it looked like a small pattern of hexagons, and while he could feel the imprint of her stylus and see the lines left from the charcoal paste, there were other shining lines underneath that made it look like a glowing tattoo.

“What’s she doing?” he asked Mark, not wanting to break his daughter’s concentration.

“Creating a rune spell,” Mark said, gesturing at the pattern. “She tried to do it on me, but it failed. Not surprising, though. She’s pretty sure it’s a healing spell, and I wasn’t hurt.”

“Pretty sure?” he asked, growing concerned.

“Well, she tried to get me to cut my arm with a knife so she could confirm, but mom wasn’t too impressed with that idea.”

Peter opened his mouth to object to being used as a guinea pig, only to discover that his window had closed.

“All done!” Angela said, leaning back and grinning at the glowing shape she had constructed on his wrist. She peered at it for a moment, then said, “Gimme a sec. This feels different.” Closing her eyes for the barest of moments, she snapped them open and laughed. “Ha! I knew it!” Opening her belt pouch, Angela pulled out another sprig of mistletoe and tore off a leaf, placing it atop one of the runes in her diagram.

The sudden flash of light that burst from the drawing on Peter’s hand caught him completely off-guard, as did the cool sensation that subsequently washed over his entire body. There was a brief moment of dizziness as well, but that quickly vanished, leaving a slightly energized feeling in its place.

Peter peered at his hand, surprised that the runes were gone. He looked up at his daughter. “What was that?”

“It was a spell, and it totally worked!” she exclaimed. Then she peered at his hand and frowned. “Didn’t it? Why isn’t it doing anything?”

“Oh, it’s doing something,” Peter said, feeling his aches and pains subside. “My muscle soreness is going away a bit, and…wait….”

“What is it?” Angela asked, her face beaming excitedly. “Do you feel more awake? Refreshed? Maybe it’s a refresh spell? Is it a refresh spell?”

“Kind of,” he said. Then he noticed a tingling feeling where the blisters were. Looking closely, he saw the un-popped blisters fading away, while the others were losing their angry red hue and turning into the pink of freshly-healed flesh.

“Huh. Look at that,” he said, turning his hand towards Angela.

Her hands shot in the air. “Heal over time! It’s a heal-over-time spell!”

Peter had played enough games to know the difference between Heal and Heal Over Time, so he took out his belt knife and scratched the back of his opposite hand in a mild, shallow cut.

“Peter, what are you doing!” Beth exclaimed.

“What?” he said. “She needs to know if it will heal injuries that happen while the spell is in effect and whether the runes need to be drawn at the site of the injury. Those kinds of details could save our lives one day.” He pointed at the fresh cut that had now disappeared. “See? Proper heal-over-time spell. I think you could have drawn those runes anywhere, peanut.”

Angela leapt forward, giving him a big hug. “Thanks, dad! You’re the best.”

“No problem,” he said, giving her a squeeze. “I think the effects are over now, by the way. It lasted what, a minute?”

“Let me check,” she said, summoning her Tome, the heavy stone blocks thumping onto the table in front of them. He had noticed that they never seemed to be the same kind of stone and wondered if she had any control over that, or if they just appeared randomly.

“Yep!” she said, poking a slab of rock with her finger. “It’s a 1-minute Heal Over Time spell that uses a mistletoe leaf as a component. And I was right about the rune, too—Beatha is the Life Rune.”

Then she frowned. “I just wish I knew how to recharge my power rune. It’s still sitting at one charge from my earlier experimentation, so I can’t try out 2-rune combos.”

“Do you need charges?” Mark asked.

Angela looked at him funnily. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged. “If you don’t use charges when you use components, why would it matter how many charges you have left? All you need are the components.”

Angela looked back down at her Tome. “Holy shit, you might be right.”

“Angela…” Beth warned at the language.

“Sorry, mom,” she said sheepishly. Then she looked at her Tome and sighed. “Unfortunately, I don’t know what components I need for my 2-rune spells, but it’s still a great point, bro.”

“I thought you were having trouble with your magic?” Peter asked. Then he realized what he’d just said. “God, it feels weird to say that. ‘Hey kiddo, how’s your magic?’ Talk about getting tossed over the rainbow.”

“I’m partial to ‘through the looking glass,’ myself,” Angela said.

“Looking glass, down a well, short trip through a long wardrobe…What was it that got you over the hump?”

“Oh, Naomi came over today,” she said. “Gave me a whole breakdown on how magic works, the differences between rune magic and mage magic. I would never have worked it out on my own, but once you know what you’re doing, it’s surprisingly easy.”

At the mention of Naomi, Peter glanced at Beth. She didn’t show any outward response over the mention of the woman’s name, but he knew his wife was still struggling with the fact that her attackers had been employees of House Glass. Peter knew better than to trust her placid demeanor. He’d been with his wife for 22 years—he understood her body language like it was his native speech.

“Actually,” Angela continued, oblivious to her mom’s tension, “she’s coming by tomorrow. She needs my help with a ritual.”

That got Beth’s attention.

“Do we really need her to come over?” Beth asked. “She already came over once today, and while I am doing my best not to blame her Family for what happened, it’s by no means easy. We’ve just gotten our house outfitted. Wouldn’t it be nice to just…settle down for a bit? As a family?”

“About that,” Angela said to her mom. “This is about the family. This ritual—actually, first I want to be clear that there’s no guarantee it will work, and it sounds like a long shot, and I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up because that would be really upsetting if it—”

“Just spit it out, dear,” Beth said.

“Naomi thinks she might be able to find Grandpa Jack.”

Despite Peter’s shock at Angela’s words, his expression was a mere shadow of the one on Beth’s face.

Carefully, she said to their daughter, “What do you mean?”

“I know, right?” Angela said. “I don’t know the magic behind everything—obviously—but she said that since we’re a family of Legends, she might be able to modify an existing ritual and use it to find out where Grandpa Jack is. If it goes really well, she might even be able to see him.”

“And she needs you for this?” Peter asked. “No offence, but that seems a bit advanced for someone who only learned their second spell ten minutes ago.”

Angela nodded. “Like I said, I don’t understand the specifics, but all she needs me for is activating the runes; I don’t do anything beyond that. I’m like…a magical light switch, not a battery.”

Beth walked over to the chair and pulled it out, sitting down carefully. Her eyes glistened as she looked at their daughter. “She can find my grandpa?”

“She can try,” Angela said, emphasizing her disclaimer. “She was super clear that she didn’t know for sure. It sounds pretty experimental and more than a little off the books so far as the Mage’s College is concerned. She’s taking a risk doing this for us.”

Angela leaned forward in her chair. “Mom, Naomi is doing her best to make amends for what happened. This ritual? This is her way of apologizing; not whatever House Glass did to the gang who attacked you.”

Beth nodded. Without another word, she got to her feet and walked into the kitchen, opening cupboards and piling different ingredients onto the counter.

“Hon?” Peter asked.

“Yes?” she said, her brow creasing as she fiddled with the semi-magical oven.

“What are you doing?”

“I am learning how this damn kitchen works,” she said. “If that woman is coming over to find my grandfather, I’ll be damned if she’s not getting brownies.”