Deputy Connor Kenton Jr. sat at one of only two desks in the sheriff’s office of Millpoint. The big desk had been an addition to the office by Sheriff Jed, made of varnished cherry and the size of a medium boulder. It was the kind of desk with so many drawers you started shoving random things in there just to fill them and thick panels on the sides that swallowed your legs up like a cave. Sheriff Jed had said it was an “antique” somebody had taken pains to restore. It was his pride and joy.

Needless to say, Connor Kenton Jr. was not seated at the big desk.

Instead he sat at the one in front, a squat amalgam of misshapen timber and rusty nails that he was pretty sure was older than the building it sat it. Bits of nail jutted from it in places speckled with blood from when Connor had pricked himself filing paperwork, making it the most dangerous task he’d been given since taking on his post here.

Connor wasn’t an officer of the law per se, but he was one of only a handful of paladins stationed this close to the wasteland. When his superiors at the Union had given him this post he had expected to be battling monsters from the wastes, fending off bandit raids, or maybe even see one of those umbral storms he’d heard about. Instead, he spent most of his time filing the Sheriff’s reports for him, clearing away rattler nests, and helping drunks get home after a long hard day of staring at sand. Not exactly the thrilling adventure he had hoped for.

But then, almost a week ago, the Sheriff had found ———‘s body. He’d found it deeper in the canyon that most of Millpoint was nestled into during a routine patrol. Connor and Sheriff Jed generally did a sweep of the canyon every week or two (or whenever Connor was supremely bored, which was often) to check it for any possible threats to the town.

[Put a description of the crime scene here]

______________________________________

After four days of dead ends, Connor had had enough. The Union had no troops to spare for a murder investigation, supernatural or no, and Sheriff Jed had other pressing matters that demanded his attention. Four days of trying and failing to solve the case himself. He needed a fresh pair of eyes.

He spent the first half of the day digging through his requisition files until he found the form he was looking for: an [approval?] form to officially request some outside help in the investigation. A Stranger.

Not a stranger in the sense of a person he’d never met, you understand, but a Stranger with a capital “S”. A special breed of mercenary for hire. A monster hunter. Connor had heard the same superstitious things everyone else had about Strangers. They were mages who used the darker aspects of magic and they traveled from town to town, offering their services to anyone who needed them. Some of the rumors even claimed they took a piece of your soul as payment, but Connor put little stock in that sort of thing.

As far as he was concerned, Strangers were just regular folk. Folk that used magic and killed monsters, certainly, but that seemed no worse to him than what a Paladin did. Heck, he’d bet that some Strangers were even Paladins themselves!

So, after digging up the proper forms, Connor had submitted them for approval by dropping them in the small paper tray on the big desk. He then plucked them out of the tray, brought them back to his own desk, and stamped them with the little rubber seal the Sheriff had given to him to fill out requisitions. He had said that he was far too busy to look over most of the paperwork that came across his desk, so he’d presented Connor with a stamp of his signature and told him to, “Use it as much as you’d like,” so he wouldn’t have to bothered with trivial matters every time Connor needed his approval. It certainly kept things quick on Connor’s end.

And quick was what they needed now, two and a half weeks of dead ends had the townsfolk worried. He was supposed to be taking care of them, damn it! If he couldn’t manage it on his own, he wasn’t too proud to ask for some help. He’d tell Jed about it later.

And so Connor had sent out the request with Fari, the town’s supply runner. He’d even radioed command ahead of time and actually already gotten the approval, he just needed an official paper trail to keep everything above board. After he’d covered all his bases, he sent out the repeating bulletin over the radio and waited.

“This is Paladin Connor Kenton Jr. requesting a Stranger for the town of Millpoint, just north of the wastes. Standard Lamaryll Union contract and pay, additional fees negotiable depending on results. There’s been a murder we believe to be supernatural in nature and request assistance.”

He’d not used a Union channel to send out the call, that wouldn’t have done him any good. There was actually a special frequency people used to post jobs, warnings, and all sorts of other mercenary-like things he imagined it was useful to keep appraised of on the road. That was where he’d find a Stranger.

It was an agonizing couple of hours of waiting, Millpoint was at the very edge of civilization after all, but the station radio finally crackled to life while Connor had been pouring over his case notes late into the night.

“This is Flynn,” it crackled, “I’ll take the job for Millpoint. I’ll be there in 48 hours.”

He’d leapt up so quickly he nearly knocked over his chair. This was it! An answer from a real Stranger! Connor wondered what they would be like. The voice had sounded feminine over the radio, but constant dust storms blowing through town made the signal too full of static to be sure. Whatever, it didn’t matter, any and all extra hands were welcome as far as he was concerned. Hands that knew more than he did about magic were even better, and if even half the rumors were true, that’s exactly what he’d get from a Stranger.

48 hours was a bit longer than he’d been hoping, but it was probably the best he was going to get considering the town’s location. It was too long a time to leave the body at the crime scene, but the tiny closet that was the town morgue was just big enough to house it for a couple days so the Stranger could inspect it when they arrived. Hopefully they’d find anything Connor and Sheriff Jed might have missed.

He spent the time arranging his notes in a hopefully understandable order and doing his usual tasks around town. Trying to get his work done felt more like pulling teeth than anything, but even with a murder to investigate the usual goings-on of the town didn’t stop and politely wait for him to finish. People still needed him, and he couldn’t let them down at a time like this.

______________________________________

It was the slam of the office door that woke Connor. He shot up from here he’d lain across the desk, hand reaching for a sword belt he quickly realized was hanging on a hook across the room by the door. He must’ve dozed off while he was working on the reports.

A sheet of white flopped across the top of his vision while he tried to clear the sleep from his eyes, he reached up to his forehead to find one of the reports he’d been working on plastered to it. Plastered with what, he’d rather not think about. He quickly snatched it off its impromptu perch and slapped it onto the table atop the pile of other reports, then slapped his other hand down to narrowly avoid scattering them all across the desk in his haste.

“Sorry about that,” he straightened, fully turning to face the newcomer, “How can I help you?”

“You Connor Kenton?” The newcomer asked.

“Jr.!” He added automatically, “Connor Kenton Jr. ma’am, Paladin of the [insert a # here] Order, Lamaryll Union representative assigned to the town of Millpoint!” He finally shook off enough of the haze to get a proper look at the stranger standing in the dusk.

The woman stood a little bit taller than he did, and he was by no means a short man. Her thick dark hair spilled out behind her head from beneath a triangular high-brimmed hat, cut in a ragged bob just below her cheekbone and ending in a shock of bright red. She wore a rust-colored leather duster beneath a dull metal breastplate, and had stripped off its sleeves to reveal thick chords of muscle and intricate tattoos. They trailed down her arms and across her fingers in geometric lines and strange glyphs interspersed with flowers of a variety he wasn’t familiar with.

A flat spiral of silvery patterned metal hung from her neck to rest in the center of her chest, strung from a worn leather chord that looked like it had been tied in a few places along the strand. Patterns of wavy lines and ridges along the metal circled back on themselves, reminding him of tree rings that appeared to shift and twist in the low light.

A Stranger.

He looked up to meet her eyes only to find them obscured beneath colored lenses.

“Are you Miss Flynn, ma’am?”

“Yep.” She tilted her head to Connor’s sword belt beside her, “Union protocol’s to keep your belt on you while in uniform, yeah?”

“Yes ma’am.” He flushed, “I don’t remember hanging it up, but I must’ve before I dozed off. I was going over the case notes we’d gathered so far.”

“Uh-huh. Here,” she said as she hooked a finger beneath the hanging sword and deftly tossed it the Paladin’s way. “Your request sounded urgent, should we get to work?”

He caught it, bewildered, “Now ma’am? Isn’t it the middle of the night?”

“If it’s really something supernatural, it won’t stop at just one body. Cases like this without a clear motive or culprit tend to be either a hunting pattern or components to some larger ritual. The quicker we work, Mr. Kenton, the better.” She raised a wrist to her face, inspecting a spiked bracer strapped to the arm below it and adjusting one of the straps. Then she turned her attention back to him, “Shall we?”

Andromeda Flynn did not want to be working right now.

It had taken her 30 hours of travel to get to this dinky little town out on the edge of nowhere. She’d had to spend the last of her funds on rations just to make the damn trip, and a dust storm part of the way had filled her pack, food bag, water supply, boots, and unmentionables with horrible gritty sand.

Andromeda Flynn wanted a bath, real food, and to not look at sand for a couple of days.

Unfortunately, all of those things cost money. So she was in the Sheriff’s office, trying to subtly kick some sand out of her boots, and working.

Or she would be, if this little [mildly insulting name for Connor here] would wake up enough to tell her where he kept his damn corpses.

He was currently strapping his sword belt around his waist, seeming mostly awake and babbling a bit, “I can’t actually show you the body right now ma’am. It’s in the morgue and Sheriff Jed’s the only one with the key but he won’t be in until morning. I can give you my notes if you’d like? I’d show you the crime scene but it’s a bit too dark to really find anything and we haven’t got any lights or torches to put up around it. I really didn’t expect you until morning, ma’am!”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, tipping up her glasses a bit, “Right… Of course. I’ll get my camp set up then, go over your notes, and meet you here in the morning.”

“Oh there’s no need to camp ma’am, we can put you up at the motel!”

She perked up at that. A motel meant clean(ish) sheets, possibly a bath, and maybe even some breakfast in the morning. All things she could desperately use. And even more importantly than that, motels had walls that kept out dust. She realized she was growing to hate dust.

“You sure? I usually post up outside of town, people seem happier that way.”

“Oh absolutely sure ma’am! It’s actually all part of your contract, food and lodging will be provided for as long as you provide us your services! Pretty standard for the Union.” The man, she was pretty sure his name was Connor, was beaming. He might have even stood a little straighter as he rattled off the benefits.

“Well, I won’t say no to a clean bed,” she said, “Do you need me to sign the contract, or…?”

“We can take care of that in the morning ma’am. Personally, I’m exhausted, and you seem like you’ve been traveling a while and that’d have you even more beat than me!”

“Alright, alright, if you’re sure.” She raised her hands in acceptance like she actually needed persuading, “Do you mind showing me where it is?”

“Sure thing ma’am! Right this way!” He strode over to the office door and pushed it open, holding it for her. “Oh, before I forget: should I call you something other than Miss Flynn, ma’am?”

“You can quit it with the ma’am shit, for starters. I’m not that old and I’m definitely no officer. Just Annie’s fine.”

“Understood Miss Annie!”

Ugh, this guy. Annie shrugged and scooped up her bags from where she’d dropped them outside the door.

The ever so chipper Connor Kenton Jr. led her through the darkened streets of Millpoint, lit by the faint glow cast from a handful of windows and the occasional lantern hanging off a porch. Connor seemed focused on the route ahead of them, stopping every so often to look down alleyways and under porches like he’d somehow manage to catch the monster out for a midnight stroll. Even still it took less than five minutes to reach their destination, apparently “across town” from the Sheriff’s Office.

Annie squinted to read the faded sign, it read: Time Mill Tell Motel, vacancy. A small stylized windmill had been painted next to the text, with its blades replaced by the wobbly hands of a clock. Charming.

“Here we are Miss Annie,” Connor strolled up to the porch, gave a light rap on the door, then nudged his way inside and held the door for her expectantly.

“Thank you, Mr. Kenton.” She brushed past him with a nod, pausing a couple steps inside the door to wait for him. He was her ticket to a motel room, after all.

She was a little surprised at the space she entered, a large room with a long bar stretched across the far wall lined with a handful of stools and backed by a line of various glasses and spirits. There was a scattering of round tables throughout the room, two of which were occupied by some of what Annie assumed were the town’s residents, quietly talking amongst themselves over their drinks.

“Evening, Tallis! Got a room to spare?”

The woman at the counter, Tallis, looked up from the book she had been pouring over and huffed at Connor, “You know we do, Connor. Who’s your…” she stopped, looking Annie up and down with a crease in her brow before locking eyes on the spiral emblem on her breast. “Oh.”

Connor nipped the incoming uncomfortable silence in the bud, “Tallis, this is Miss Annie. She’s going to be helping Sheriff Jed and I with our investigation.”

Annie offered what she hoped was a friendly nod to Tallis and adjusted her bag. She didn’t travel with much - just some spare clothes, a handful of charms with various effects, an empty ration pouch, her waterskin, and detachable fuel tank strapped to one side. The only truly notable thing amidst her belongings was the long bundle of cloth slung opposite the fuel and water, which Tallis eyed suspiciously.

“We don’t usually allow weapons in here.” She said warily.

“Aw c’mon Tallis, can't you make an exception? She’s a Stranger, you can hardly expect her to——“

“Alright.” The Stranger shrugged the bag off her shoulder and knelt down, beginning to unfasten the buckles strapping the bundle to the side.

“Miss Annie, [Connor tells her she shouldn’t have to give up her weapons]

“It’s fine, Kenton,” Annie said as she undid the last buckle, “I’m sure my things will be safe with Tallis here, won’t they Tallis?” She smiled up at the girl.

Some of the tension left Tallis’ brow and she sighed; snapping her book closed, “Yeah, you can just grab your stuff in the morning. Put the weapons on the counter there and I’ll keep them behind the bar.”

Annie nodded in agreement and heaved the bundle on the counter with a muffled clunk. More gingerly she drew her sidearm, flipped out the revolver chamber, and tilted it back with a flick to allow the bullets to spill out into her palm. Then she pushed the chamber back into place with a click and laid the gun next to the bundle.

Reaching out, Tallis lifted one edge of the cloth that had come loose and her eyes widened, “Gods beyond, what is that thing?”

Connor shot a glance at Annie, then curiosity got the better of him and he pulled back the cloth to reveal the long blade beneath

The Stranger’s sword was made of a dark metal decorated with the same wavy ribbons of silver as her spiral emblem. Its blade was engraved with strange runes along its center and was nearly as wide as Connor’s palm with a simple blue-tinged metal cross guard that had two sharp prongs extending from the blade's base and a leather-wrapped handle ending in a circular pommel with a hole through its center

“Goddamn.” Connor breathed softly, brushing his fingers along the strange weapon and feeling an almost static buzz against his skin.

“The metal detects and disrupts veil energy. Helps disperse magic and such.” Annie offered.

“Right…” Tallis brushed her straw colored hair to the side and yanked the cloth back over the sword, briefly covering Connor’s hand in her haste. “I’m just going to keep these behind the bar. You can grab them before you head out tomorrow.”

With some effort she lifted the blade and planted it somewhere at her feet, grabbing Annie’s sidearm with less effort and tucking it next to her sword.

Shooting one last glance beneath the counter, she looked at Connor, “You’ll be covering her while she’s here?”

“You can just bill it to the office!” Connor smiled and turned to Annie, “That’s some fascinating equipment you have there, Miss Annie! I can’t wait to see it in action!” Then he turned to Annie and lightly slapped the counter, “Well Miss Annie, I’ll be seeing you in the morning!”

“Soon as there’s enough light to get a look around.” She confirmed. No sense in wasting time, she never slept terribly long anyway.

“Alright then, good night ladies.” He offered one last nod and a smile to Annie and Tallis, then took his leave back out the door.

There was a moment of silence, and then, “Ok Annie,” Tallis sighed as she turned toward the wall behind her, plucking a key hanging from the pegboard before turning back, “You’re in the third room on the right, breakfast’s a bit after me or Tulvir wake up, ends when folks stop asking for it. You need anything you go knock on the office door there or room 7 the next floor up, Tulvir’s in the office and I’m in 7.”

She pointed to the first door in the hallway, decorated with a little black plaque that read “office”.

“Need anything else?” She asked, handing Annie the key.

“No, thank you. I’m going to turn in for the night.” The Stranger turned, key in hand, and shuffled down the hall. She could feel multiple pairs of eyes boring holes in her back as she walked but paid them no mind. She was used to that sort of thing.

The key, after a bit of jostling, turned in the rusty lock enough for Annie to push the door open. The hinges groaned in protest as she went in, tossing her bags next to a small bed with a thud. It wasn’t a large room, adorned simple with the bed, the nightstand next to it, the chair across from it, and a dresser in the corner. A small window let in shafts of moonlight through the slitted blinds that pooled on a musty rug in the center.

It was glorious.

Annie shut the door behind her and flopped gratefully onto the bed with a contented “Ahhhhh”. Clean sheets. No sand. Happy Stranger.

She sat up and stripped off her boots, setting them to the side so she could dump the sand in them out the window later and then aggressively brushed even more sand from her socks before stripping them off to lay atop the boots.

She looked back at the off-white sheets and cringed, there was a vaguely human outline of dirt where she had flopped down. She’d have to apologize to whoever washed them, probably Tallis, in the morning.

Well, first things first. She rose from the bed and strolled across the room to a small door to the right of the one she’d come in from and tugged it open. Inside there was a sink, toilet, towel rack, and a glorious 4 foot by 4 foot square of cream-colored plastic behind a battered plastic sheet and beneath a little dripping cone of metal.

A shower.

A small note had been taped to the wall next to it reading, “HOT WATER FIVE MINUTES”.

She had thought that seven minutes in heaven was traditional, but she could make do with five. She turned the heat to full blast and, with a creak and a pop, steaming water surged forth in a cascade of warm, wet bliss.

It was a miracle the motel had hot water to begin with. Most other towns she’d been to you were lucky if there was even running water, much less the hot stuff. A lot of places drew water from local wells and covered what extra they needed by buying it from runners who transported goods and supplies between settlements. Hot running water was a blessing to a little nowhere town like this.

Annie figured the town’s fortune was due to the giant windmill she’d seen on the way in. An enormous machine like that had to generate a lot of power this close to the wastes and she’d bet that’s why Lamaryll thought this place was important enough to send a Paladin to guard it. A place that could make its own electricity was a goldmine to anyone of a mind to harness it. The Union had struck gold with this town.

Well, as long as she’s here she may as well enjoy the benefits. The hot water was carving canyons through her dirt-crusted skin and leaving a pool of brown beneath her to trickle into the drain. She breathed in the steam and leaned back against the wall to bask in the heat while she could. A Stranger had to take the little pleasures where she could find them.

The first traces of dawn crept through the window into the small bedroom, alighting upon a pair of dark leather boots as Annie shoved them out the window and smacked them together a few times. The sound echoed through the empty streets, deafening in the early morning silence. She inspected them, tipping one upside down and giving it a little shake to watch a trail of sand spill out in a wispy cloud, then nodded in satisfaction and drew back inside.

She had already beaten the dirt and dust out of the rest of her clothes and gotten mostly dressed. She'd hung her shirt, hat, and duster on the back of the chair along with her belt and pistol while she cleaned out her boots. Then she set them next to one of the chair legs and sat down on the edge of the bed to dig through her bags.

After a moment of blind rummaging her hand closed around a cold glass vial near the bottom. She fished it out and set it on the mattress beside her, then continued her excavation. From the depths she retrieved a small brass tube, just a little bigger than her palm. It had a ring protruding from the side and a small lever on the other.

Annie tucked a finger in one end and pulled out a short cylindrical metal frame, about half the size of the tube itself. Then she picked up the vial, briefly held it to the light to check the thick black liquid that sloshed inside, and twisted it into the other end of the tube until it made a small click and a thin needle sprung out in the center of the frame.

She grit her teeth and placed the contraption against her thigh, threading her thumb through the ring and wrapping her fingers around the lever. With a squeeze of her hand the needle leapt from the tube and pierced her leg, slipping right through the fabric of her pants as it had a hundred times before. Annie felt the ichor flow through her veins in a flood of warmth and hissed as every muscle in her body tensed.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose and untwisted the vial from the tube, setting it aside as she rose from the bed and

__________________________________

She dropped the brass injector into a waiting water glass atop the dresser and flexed her fingers to call a bit of magic to her. Threads of light shimmered into existence around her hand and she twirled one around a finger, tracing it in three-pointed geometric pattern above the glass before dipping it into the water. The liquid slowly began to gently bubble and churn. Before long steam was rising from the glass as the water simmered. 

_______________________________________

“Welp, time to get to work.” She said to the empty room as she slung her belt around her waist and cinched the secondary strap, securing the holster to her leg. Next came the jacket, then her hat, and Andromeda Flynn became a Stranger once more.

They didn’t strictly have a uniform, Strangers weren’t that kind of crowd, but there was a certain amount of presence people came to expect from you when you donned the steel spiral. People thought Strangers were mysterious, intimidating, and dangerous. Who else in their right mind would go around hunting monsters of all things? People tended to take you more seriously if you were dark and foreboding, or decked out in some extravagant armor. Showing up in jeans and a flannel to tell people you killed monsters just didn’t cut it these days.

She began to head out the door before stopping, turning on her heel, and strolling back to her bag. Digging inside she plucked out a handful of small clay discs fixed to leather clasps which she snapped onto her belt. Her fingers brushed the glyphs inscribed in each of them and felt the faint buzz of magic that emanated from the lines.

“Almost forgot these.” She muttered. Charms were important in the Stranger business. Minor enchantments that carried just a bit of magic in them helped Strangers make their own luck and gave them the edge they would need in a fight. Annie had some that made her a little harder to hit, placed her feet in just the right spot to keep her balance, warned her just before she got a nasty surprise, and other tiny adjustments to her fortunes that really added up when you piled them together.

She turned to look at the earring lying atop the nightstand. It was a miniature sword that was about two inches in length, cast in silver with small runes engraved along the blade, and had a red gemstone embedded in its tiny pommel. Annie hung it from an earlobe and secured the clasp, comforted by the slight chill of the metal.

Satisfied she was now properly equipped for a day on the job, Annie marched out the door and into the hallway beyond.

The motel was quiet, the first traces of early dawn light were just beginning to creep through the shutters of the lobby windows and the whole space was still as if it were holding its breath.

Annie’s stomach growled. Right. First breakfast, then work.

Tallis had said she and Tulvir would make breakfast once they were up. Annie felt a bit rude asking them to rise so early, but she was a bit short on options. It was less than ideal to fight monsters on an empty stomach, after all. Maybe one of them was already awake?

She passed a few doors down the hall and stopped in front of the one labelled “office”. Tulvir was supposed to be in here. She hoped he was an early riser, otherwise he might poison her breakfast for making him wake so early.

Annie rapped her knuckles lightly against the door. Silence. A little harder. Silence. Well, Tallis did say she could go to the office if she needed anything. She gently tested the doorknob and it turned with ease. Either Tulvir was a very trusting man or he was already up and about. She should check just to be sure. Quietly as she could, Annie nudged the door open.

The light that bled through was a mottled crimson that cast the Stranger’s silhouette large against the wall behind her. The heavy scent of iron cut through the air and flooded her nostrils. She threw open the door.

A corpse lay in the center of the room in a pool of blood. It was a man, a large and stocky [dragonborn] covered in dull golden scales tinted brown in the red light and clad in just a pair of plain black shorts. He had collapsed backwards on top of his legs facing towards the door, as if he’d been kneeling just before he died. It was probably Tulvir. Shit.

Annie glanced around the room, the threat was almost certainly long gone but it never hurt to check. Tulvir’s office was a repurposed motel room, the bed was in the same place as hers and it had the same tiny bathroom door, this one with a number of dents and scratches about shoulder height in the frame. A desk had been dragged in and placed opposite the bed and the chair in front of it was padded, a bit nicer than the one in Annie’s room. The papers on top of it were orderly, a small lamp connected to a bending metal arm that shone a bit of light over them and a quill set beside them to dry. Everything seemed to be in place, there were no signs of a struggle.

She moved inside, stepped over the man’s outstretched tail, and crouched over the body, careful to avoid touching it or tracking any blood around. He didn’t seem to have any defensive wounds, but the enormous gash in the front of his neck was obvious. And it wasn’t just large, it was deep. Whatever had cut into his throat had sliced through scale, skin, and muscle, stopping only when they reached the bone of his spine. And even then, it looked like a chunk of that had been severed as well. It left his head bent too far backwards, his blue reptilian eyes wide with shock and his jaw stretched open with the beginnings of a scream or maybe a desperate gasp for air. Trailing down his neck a bit Annie could see cracked scales and faint discoloration, the [dragonborn] equivalent of bruising, on his collarbone right between the neck and shoulder.

His killer had surprised him. Forced him down on his knees, and slit his throat. [Dragonborn] were a hardy folk, their scales made them a bit tougher than humans and were difficult to cut through compared to skin. And Tulvir was not a small man, he’d have come up to about Annie’s height standing, maybe even a little taller. And his arms were the size of small trees! This was a man used to labor, he’d likely been working all his life. A man like that shouldn’t have gone down so easily. Whoever had killed him was strong, unnaturally strong.

Annie looked to the bed, it looked slept in, but neat. The blanket and sheet had been tossed to one side, away from the edge. If he’d been dragged out of bed they would have gone with him for part of the trip, ended up hanging over the side or even on the floor. They weren’t, they just rested atop the bed waiting for him to return. Tulvir had gotten out of bed on his own.

So what had happened?

The killer had somehow gotten into the room, but Tulvir seemed unsurprised to see them. He had been out of bed, maybe before they got there or he had gotten up when they did, and he was comfortable enough not to look for clothes; the closet and dresser were undisturbed and she couldn’t see any discarded anywhere in the room. He was facing the door as if to greet them, so he might have trusted them? Then the killer had grabbed him, shoved him to his knees, and cut his throat all in one smooth motion so he didn’t have time to react.

The spray from the wound had arced as he fell, drawing a line in the ceiling, along the wall, and splattering the shade of the lit lamp on his bedside table. The light filtered through the blood, painting the room in an eerie red.

Annie heard a scream from behind her and whipped around, but whoever it was had taken off running down the hallway towards the main room. She heard the sound of a hinge, a clatter, another smaller clatter as something wooden bounced, then silence. She got up and walked over to the door, sticking her head out into the hall only to feel a buzz in the base of her neck that made her jerk back inside just before a click and echoing BOOM blasted a chunk of the doorframe into splinters and sawdust.

She looked around the room for something, anything that could be a weapon, then froze. Even if she found something, whoever had that shotgun was just scared. Hurting them wouldn’t help anything. And it would upset Deputy Kenton, the man who was going to write her check.

With a sigh she straightened up from where she’d crouched, tipped her hat to fall behind her head and hang on the chord strung from it, and removed her glasses.

“I’m gonna come out now, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t shoot me.” She called, and then stepped gingerly out into the hallway.

Tallis stood shaking behind the counter where Annie had first seen her, clutching a double-barrel shotgun in trembling hands that she now leveled at Annie. She hadn’t shot her yet, so that was promising.

“You! What did you do to him!?” Her voice was hoarse and she squinted like she was fighting back tears. The shotgun didn’t budge.

Annie raised her hands above her head, slowly as she could, “I didn’t do anything to him, Tallis. I just got in last night.”

Tallis wiped at her eyes and adjusted her grip, “Right. You get here one day, he’s dead the next, and that’s just coincidence?”

“Considering I never even met the man, I’d say so.” She started to slowly walk towards the counter.

“Don’t you move!” Tallis cried, raising the shotgun menacingly, “I swear to the gods I will shoot you dead!”

Annie stopped, “Okay Tallis, I’ll stand right here.” She looked the scared woman in the eyes, “What’re we gonna do now?”

“You’re gonna stand right there, and we’re gonna wait for Connor to get here!”

“Right. Okay.” Annie nodded, “But that might take a while.”

“No,” Tallis [said], “Y’all said you were going to meet in the morning. First light, I heard you!”

“You’re right, we did,” Annie said slowly, “But we didn’t actually pick a place to meet. Bit of an oversight on our part, honestly. He might be waiting for me at the station. He seems pretty polite, he might wait there a while for me.”

A flicker of worry crossed the girl’s face and she quickly covered it, “I can wait as long as it takes!”

“Tallis, listen. This is the second death in this town, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And Deputy Kenton and the Sheriff have been investigating them for almost a week.”

“Right.” Her face was dubious.

“I just got here. You checked me in. And I’ve never met Tulvir. Not much reason to kill him, and it’s a lot more likely whoever did also did the first murder.” Annie gestured with her hands a bit in the air, “Plus his throat was cut. You still have my sword. And my gun! I couldn’t kill anybody even if I wanted to!”

“You’re a damn Stranger! You could’ve used some magic or something to do it!” She cried.

“And risk bringing a crowd of demons on our heads just to kill some random innkeeper? Why would I go and do a fool thing like that?”

She could see Tallis’ arms begin to shake from the strain. Shotguns were heavy, her arms were getting tired.

“Tallis, please. I just want to help.”

A pause. And then, “Fuck!” Tallis lowered the shotgun. She didn’t look at Annie, “Fine.”

Annie let out a breath and lowered her hands, “One of us should go get Deputy Kenton.”

“I’ll do it. I don’t want…” Tallis shuddered, “I’ll do it. You stay here.”

“Yes ma’am.” She said. Tallis shot her a glare and trudged out the door, shotgun in hand, leaving Annie alone in the motel lobby.

“Right,” she said to nobody in particular, “That went well.” She slipped behind the counter. Annie hadn’t lied to Tallis really, she wouldn’t use magic to kill some random innkeeper - that could tear open the Veil and loose demons all over the place even if she was able to. Somebody had run that risk though. Tulvir was killed using magic, she was sure of it. The question remained: what kind?

She touched the amulet on her chest as the gears in her head churned. Stranger emblems, the little metal spirals they wore to prove who they were, reacted to tears in the Veil. Hers hadn’t. So whatever magic had killed Tulvir was either not very strong or pulled from somewhere else. Given the depth of that cut, she was betting on the latter.

She scooped up her weapons and noticed some string had been tied around the cloth containing her sword, keeping it from falling open. She wasn’t sure if the gesture was thoughtful or fearful, but it was appreciated nonetheless. She swung the bundle over her shoulder and felt it snap onto the magnetic clips she kept strapped across her back. A sword that size was difficult to carry on the hip without knocking it into things, so she’d found the back mount easier over the years.

Slotting her pistol into its holster, she turned and marched down the hallway back towards the office.

Arriving at the door once again, Annie took out her glasses and returned them to their proper place at the bridge of her nose. Then she tapped a tiny, almost imperceptible rune engraved on one of the pin heads that held the frame together, giving her a view of the room suffused with threads of brilliant light and color.

Mages had an ability called “Thread Sense” which let them instinctively feel the integrity of the Veil around them. This was actually an ability present in most living beings that people ascribed to instinct. Like when you feel like you’re being watched, a sudden sense of dread and you say something like, “This doesn’t feel right!” Practicing mages had to refine that ability to a near science through years of study and training until it was strong enough to detect the threads of the Veil. Only then was it deemed “Thread Sense”.

A few mages like Annie had developed tools that took that ability even further, allowing them to actually see glimpses the Veil and therefore spells that had pulled from it. She was using one such tool now.

Thin threads of neon light scattered themselves around the room, wrapping around the furniture and trailing along the walls, casting nearly every surface in light. Everything except Tulvir’s body. The Veil was present everywhere, it followed the essence of life wherever it went, leaving traces of itself wherever living beings stepped and on whatever they touched. Tulvir had lived and worked in this room, it was full of the Veil he had left behind. Some of the threads by the door were even tinged with Annie’s violet magic. But Tulvir’s body was dark, desolate compared to the rest of the room. Dead was dead. Death seemed to repel the Veil like a magnetic force meeting its opposite charge, leaving spaces feeling empty and forlorn in its absence.

It would be helpful to see what sort of magic had caused Tulvir’s wound, but whatever Veil energy had been used was scattered away by his demise. Annie hoped to find evidence elsewhere. She surveyed the room, walking in a slow circle around Tulvir to inspect every inch of the place. Threads tended to take on a color based on whoever touched them, Annie thought it had something to do with personalities and intentions. Tulvir’s threads were a steady blue, a little darker than the midday sky. She could see a variety of tone and hue shifts trail around the room as his moods shifted and varied over the years of his life he spent here. This office was lived in, it had been his home. It would start to empty without him as the stain of death slowly drove the Veil away. The office would miss him, in a sense.

Annie wasn’t finding anything productive in the room. Tulvir’s threads covered everything and the denseness of them made it hard to pick out anything else from among the tangles. She went over to the desk and rifled through the papers, lifting each one close to her face. He’d spent much less time with these, with any luck she’d find…. A-ha!

One of the papers sported a single thread of dull grey light. Somebody other than Tulvir had briefly picked this one up to inspect it. She folded it up and stuck it in her duster, the thread would cling to it for a while, she could hopefully use it for comparison.

She finished her trail around the room and stopped again at the door, she realized more grey threads lay scattered among the door’s handle and frame. Whoever these threads belonged to had opened the door and brushed the frame on their way inside. She filed that away for later.

A dull pain began to ache behind her eyes and she tapped the small rune once more, then rubbed at her eyes. Intensifying a person’s Thread Sense like that was taxing, spending too long looking at the veil lead to migraines and strange dreams. Looking at the Veil was like looking at the soul of the world. It was best to do it sparingly.

Noise in the lobby drew her from the room again and she saw Deputy Kenton walking in with Tallis and another man. He was average height, putting him a bit shorter than Connor, and he sported a thick brown mustache that covered his upper lip in dark bristles. He wore a maroon vest with a shiny tin badge pinned to it over a white collared shirt with leather pads sewn into the shoulders and elbows while atop his head sat a large grey felt hat with a wide brim and a brass buckle at the center above the forehead.

“Kenton, over here.” She called, waving the group over. The men approached her, leaving Tallis standing alone by the counter.

The man looked to the Deputy, “Connor, who the hell’s this?”

“Oh, this is Miss Annie, Sheriff. She’s the stranger I sent out the request for a couple days ago.”

The mustache quivered a bit as he shot out a puff of breath, “A Stranger! When exactly were you gonna tell me you hired a damn Stranger? How in the hell are we supposed to cover her fee?”

“Oh the Union’ll take care of that, I already got the ok from the higher ups.”

The Sheriff’s frown deepened, “You should’ve asked me first, Connor!”

“But that’s what you gave me the stamp for sir! I didn’t want to bother you when you were busy investigating.” Deputy Kenton was apologetic but firm.

The Sheriff huffed again, “That damn stamp,” he muttered, “Should’ve known it’d bite me in the ass eventually.”

He looked up at Annie and she stuck out her hand and said, “Andromeda Flynn. You’re Sheriff Jed, I presume?”

“That’s be me.” He said, taking her hand in his, “This here’s my town, and I am the law here. We understand each other?” He squeezed her hand as he shook it, trying as men like him did to make an impression. She squeezed his hand back. He winced.

“Yes sir.” She said. No point in butting heads with the local authority, he could make her job even harder than it was shaping up to be. She didn’t need to be on his good side, but she ought to avoid pissing him off.

“Right,” he pulled his hand away, “I’ll leave this to you two. I have important business elsewhere that needs my attention. Best earn your pay, Stranger.” He turned and strode towards the door in a hurry. That was fine with Annie, he’d only get in the way.

She turned to Connor, “Body’s in the office. I think it’s Tulvir. I assume Tallis told you?”

“She did,” he was trying to keep his expression masked, but it was like one of those cheap masks you’d find at Party City, the society of never ending excess and extravaganza, “Gods, poor Tulvir. He was always nice, good to his customers and helped folk around town that needed it. I’m… We’re really gonna miss him.” He let out a slow and shaky breath, as if trying to release a hurricane through the end of a balloon.

Annie wasn’t sure what to say to that. She tried to come up with something only to realize she was taking too long and Connor was looking at her expectantly. She ended up going for an awkward pat on the shoulder and then fled into the room. He followed her.

“Found him like this.” She said, trying to change the subject, “He was familiar with his attacker. The room’s undisturbed, no signs of a struggle, but he’s facing the door. Whoever did it was strong, and they left traces of magic at the desk and on the doorframe.”

“How can you tell?” Connor hunched over the body, inspecting it closely.

“Wound on the neck is deeper than any ordinary person could manage in one cut plus bruising on the collarbone. Seeing the magic is a mage thing.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He said, rising, “So… he was familiar with his killer, or thought he was anyway.” He crossed his arms and rested his hand on his chin thoughtfully. “But whoever did it had magic. Do you think it could be like a shapeshifter or something? Or somebody who could put him under some sort of spell?”

“I doubt it, the Veil’s stable here. No signs of any magic being drawn. A shapeshifter would’ve affected the veil and a mind spell’s too complicated for a portable battery to power.” She could see this frustrated Connor.

“And there’s not a trail you can follow?” He asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.

“Not really how it works.”

“Damn it!” Connor abruptly turned away from the body, not looking Annie in the eye, “We’ll have to leave him here for now. I’ll have Tallis shut down the Motel for a couple days so nobody disturbs the place. She could do with the break anyway.”

“There’s another body besides this one, right?” Annie asked.

“Yeah, we’ve got her in the morgue right now.” He sniffed, “I can take you to the crime scene too, but I doubt there’s much left of it. We haven’t got anybody to watch it, and it’s deep enough in the ravine I’d guess animals have gotten to it by now.”

“Great.” She said dryly, “Let’s hit the morgue first. I can compare what I found between this one and that one.” At least she could confirm it was the same killer. With the body being moved and a few days old she doubted she could glean much else.

Connor turned to her wincing, apologetic, “The uh… The Sheriff still has the morgue key, Miss Annie. I can take you to the crime scene and then go find him?”

“Fucking hell,” she sighed, she was doing that a lot lately, “What the hell kind of town only has two lawmen in it?”

“Apparently the town of Millpoint, Miss Annie.”

“Y’all need to fix that. It’s giving me a damn migraine!” Annie rubbed at her temple with a thumb, “Fine. Let’s take a look at the first site, then you go get the Sheriff off his ass long enough to let me do my job. Okay?”

“Sure thing Miss Annie,” Connor glanced around conspiratorially then leaned close to her, “Just don’t let the Sheriff catch you talking about him like that, you hear?”

“Sure.” She said like she gave half a damn, “Can we go?”

Connor made a “after you” gesture and together they strode out the motel door and into town. They had a long day ahead.

Annie’s feet hurt. That’s not really the kind of thing you admit to people when you’re supposed to be a scary monster hunter, but they did and she was irritated about it.

When Connor had said they’d found the first crime scene deeper in the canyon while on patrol, she hadn’t thought he’d meant over an hour of hiking through barely maintained game trails, a trudge through a creek, and a brief foray into rock climbing. What the hell kind of patrol was that?

She was trying to be deep in thought as Connor dragged her through thickets and shrubs deeper into the Canyon. Unfortunately the random swats of branches in her face kept interrupting her brooding. The Paladin was keeping a steady pace ahead of her.

“Do you mind going over what you found at the motel again?” He asked over his shoulder.

Annie grunted, “Sure,” Then paused. Frowned even deeper than usual. “This is the third time you’ve asked.” She gave the words a tone of accusation.

Connor was diligently looking ahead, “We were… Friendly.”

Friendly? Annie thought, The man is a golden retriever on two legs, he’s “friendly” with the whole damn town!

[Need to showcase Connor being friendly with more townsfolk to have this make sense, do it in an earlier vignette as they walk through town to get to the canyon]

Annie’s mouth opted to abstain from the delicacy the topic probably deserved. “Bullshit.”

Connor stiffened and Annie had to stumble to avoid crashing into him or face planting into a bush. He turned to her.

“This is a small town, Annie,” his voice was cold and mechanical, “Folks here don’t welcome outsiders.”

Annie bristled, “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Connor faltered a bit, “Sorry, that came out wrong. I just mean I’ve been here a while and it was… Difficult to make friends at first.”

He had a sort of kicked puppy look that gave her a pang of guilt. She smothered it, “And here you are continuing the tradition.”

“Miss Annie, I—“

“Deputy Kenton, I am not here to make friends. I am here to work. To kill monsters.” She gestured to the pistol strapped to her hip.

“I know that ma’am.”

“If you or anybody here is going to make that difficult, I can just leave!”

That wasn’t strictly true. Annie was somewhat lacking in the funds and food necessary to make the trip back across the desert. A fact which reared its head in the form of her growling stomach. She hadn’t even gotten to eat breakfast.

The two of them stood there for a moment, Connor dutifully staring at the ground to avoid Annie’s glare and pretending not to have heard her stomach growl.

Annie broke the silence. “The site’s not much further from here, is it?”

He sighed, “No.”

“Then lead the way Deputy Kenton.”

“Fine. It’s just through here,” Connor pushed through a thicket of yellow-flowered brush and tugged aside furrowed tree branches that let out tufts of white fluff to drift gently in the air like snow. He turned to Annie again, letting more of the stuff scatter around them and holding the branches aside for her allowing a glimpse at a small clearing beyond.

“It’s just through here Miss Annie.” He stepped the rest of the way through the thicket and held the branches aside for her.

He such a damn gentleman, it makes it hard to be mad at him. Annie thought. It didn’t actually stop her from being mad, but it softened the blow a bit. She brushed past him with a huff and then stared at the clearing.

“This is it?” She asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Conner nudged into the clearing behind her, sidestepping Annie to stand at the edge of the creek, “She was found just about dead center on this little island here.”

The island in question was little more than a mound of pebbles in the creek; there was also a log, some moss, and little else. Annie was getting a headache.

“What exactly was the sheriff doing all the way out here?” She asked.

“Oh, we patrol the canyon once or twice a week.” The Deputy chirped.

“Both of you?” Annie was having a hard time believing Sheriff Mustache doubled as an avid hiker.

“Not together, one of us has to stay in town in case something happens.”

“Has something ever happened?”

_____________________________________

“We get some creatures wandering in from the wastes every so often, but they’re easy enough to scare off,” Connor thumbed the pommel of his sword, “Though I have slain a handful myself!”

“Right…” She trailed off, turning back towards the creek.

Connor bit his lip and huffed out of his nose a bit, putting his hands on his hips. Were all Slayers this abrasive or was Annie just uniquely aggravating?

He was silent for a moment while she paced around the creek. Then, with the air of a man who’s been tortured into giving up top secret information, he said, “Tulvir was the first person to welcome me into town.”

Annie stopped mid-pace, “Huh?”

“Lamaryll stationed me here to protect the windmill, since Millpoint agreed to connect it to the Union’s power grid.” He said, “Tulvir was the first person here who talked to me like a person instead of an inconvenience.”

[Author’s note: Annie is a bitter, emotionally constipated (clam) rich kid who has fallen from grace. She hates talking about feelings.]

She wrinkled her nose and turned back to Connor, “That’s why the Union sent a Paladin so far from the center ring, they usually keep y’all on a tight leash.”

“Yeah.”

“And Tulvir was, uh… Was your first real friend here?”

“Something like that. We got very close, if you take my meaning.” Connor blushed.

“Oh.” Annie made herself busy studying the mud on her boots, letting the words hang in the air.

A silent and uncomfortable moment later, Connor coughed, “Well, I’ll give you some time to look around. Have to get that key from the Sheriff!”

Oh thank the Greys, Annie thought.

“Sounds great, I can find my way back on my own.”

“Right!” Connor spun on his heel and called over his shoulder, “I’ll see you back in town, then!” Then he dove into the bushes, vanishing from sight.

“Fucking hell.” Annie pressed a thumb into her temple to try and beat back her now pounding headache.

People didn’t usually like to talk to Strangers. They gave them a job, the Stranger killed the monster, then pay them and move on. It was one of the perks of the job. Talking to people for more than a few sentences wasn’t usually part of the package.

She groaned. The quicker she found the monster the quicker she could leave, and this dinky little island was going to give her some clues damn it!

Gritting her teeth, the Stranger got to work.

______________________________________

[Connor heads back to town and leaves Annie to investigate]

______________________________________

An aggravating 20 minutes later, Annie had discovered squat.

She put her ands on her hips and let out a low growl of frustration, kicking some rocks. They clattered around, mostly about the island and a few into the creek with a plop! Annie had been hoping there’d be something here. Evidence of a scuffle, a torn piece of clothing, a splatter of blood, a scrap of fur. Anything. But she couldn’t find it. It didn’t make sense.

It had been, what, five days? Six? Since Connor and Sheriff Jed had discovered the body. The reports didn’t put an estimate on how long she’d been dead, but it couldn’t have been too much time. In his report Connor had detailed a deep slash in the neck, scrapes and stones embedded in the knees, and a broken collarbone. nothing about defensive wounds but given the severity of what else he’d found Annie would guess there were a few.

But there was no blood! Tulvir’s wound had sprayed blood all over the room and left a damn puddle on the ground. She could understand the stuff leaking away to a degree, maybe get washed off by the creek, but not completely disappear. The water was barely a trickle right now, it was the dry(er) season on the edge of the desert, no rain or high tide was going to cover the island.

Annie stomped over to the riverbed, frowning at the mud. The kicked rocks had left little rolling trails behind them before they’d landed in the water, carving thin lines in the creek bed. Huh. She lifted her boot, inspecting the muck that now clung to the bottom and letting her eyes trail down to the boot print she had left beneath her. Could be?

She trudged over to the edge of the creek bed and turned, appraising it critically. The body had been found on the island, but she had to get there somehow. She could have taken the path Connor had shown Annie on the way here but why would she? Apparently there was a clearer trail that led to the area, but it took twice as long and turned it into a day hike rather than a sorta quick trek straight through thick undergrowth that managed to survive in the canyon and the aftermath of landslides. No, if she was just out wandering the canyon she’d take the long way.

She started pacing the perimeter of the island, eyes scouring the mud. There should be something… There! Amidst a cluster of animal prints and scattered rocks was a pair of deep furrows in the muck. She hadn’t noticed it before because she’d been looking for bootprints, now she was almost certain the woman hadn’t been killed here at all.

The furrows led away from the island and into the brush. She’d follow them in a moment. She returned to the shore and took a breath, then tapped the side of her glasses. The world exploded into a myriad of colors. The plants gave off a deep green as they gently swayed, she could see faint trails of orange and yellow where animals had come and gone, and trails of colorless thread following the water in the creek. And there, by the furrows and dragged to the center of the island, the threads just ended as if they’d been severed or forced away. She was killed elsewhere, and then the body had been dragged through here and dropped on the island.

She tapped her glasses again and the colors dissipated. She was already irritated, no need to add a migraine on top of that.

Returning to the furrows, she struck out into the unknown. Or the very well known, considering she’d seen all the plants smacking in her face on the way here. But she pushed through with only a little bit of cursing and swearing on the way.

After a few minutes of shoving her way through the undergrowth, she stopped. Something bright and yellow hung right around her shin. Crouching down, she plucked it from the branch it had snagged on. It was a scrap of fabric, probably somebody’s clothes that had torn off. Maybe the victim’s? Annie glanced around and spotted a few broken branches and stones with a crust of dirt clinging to the upturned edges. This was promising.

She tapped her glasses again and brought up her thread sense to confirm her suspicions. There was a void of magic around her, carving a path through the brush behind her and further off to the side ahead of her. She stood up, brushed off her knees, and pocketed the scrap of cloth.

Following the void was easy, the life surrounding her almost made the thread density overwhelming, but the morbid serenity of the body’s trail was a stark relief compared the mass of color and light. The corpse’s trail also meant that a path had been carved through here before, branches broken and bushes trodden down made the going much easier than trying to fight her way through on her own in an awful sort of way.

Another tap of her glasses, she had enough of a sense of the trampled undergrowth that marked where the body had been dragged she figured she could get by without them. But a weight was beginning to settle in the pit of her stomach. Monsters didn’t leave bodies to be found like this. She was certain magic was involved here, but she was less and less sure there was a monster at the end of it. More likely was a mage.

She hated dealing with mages. Monsters were simple. They had rules and patterns to follow and you could predict what they wanted to do. Mages though, mages were people. People wanted all sorts of things and killed for all sorts of reasons. A mage killing people brought all sorts of tangled motivations and variables to the situation that were very much outside her ability to anticipate. But mages were still magic, and magic taken too far made monsters. And Strangers hunted monsters. With newfound determination she shoved her way through the brush.

It wasn’t too hard making her way through the undergrowth now that Annie knew what she was looking for. Whoever had dragged that girl through here hadn’t bothered to try and cover their tracks.

I ought to look for drag marks when I inspect the body at the morgue. She thought.

The lack of blood, trail of dispersed veil energy, and trampled shrubbery was more than enough to paint her a picture of what happened; but some extra confirmation would be good for whatever paperwork Connor would have to file for his higher ups in the Union when this job was over. Poor sap.

As she pushed through a thicket a branch thwapped Annie in the face, knocking her glasses askew and sending tufts of whitish fluff into the air. She swore and batted at the rogue limb, scattering another cloud of the dreaded cotton around her. She sneezed. And sneezed again. Tried to adjust her glasses, sneezed, knocked them off her face entirely, swore some more, and crouched down to pat at the grass around where she’d seen them drop.

A glint a few feet away caught her eye and she crawled over to it, hand passing back and forth in front of her like some beach-combing metal detector. And detect it she did when it stabbed into the side of her hand.

“Ouch!” She cried out and then snatched up the offending debris. It was not, in fact, her glasses but rather the round and jagged rowel of a spur. It looked as though grass had gotten tangled in the spikes and dislodged it from whatever boot had been unlucky enough to trudge through the tangled grass and brambles.

She held the wheel by the grass and dangled it in front of her face to glare at it for a moment, mulling over the idea of hurling it out into the undergrowth. It looked to be pretty good metal, or at least it wasn’t tarnished. Maybe she could sell it? Good metal’s hard to come by, even a small amount should fetch a bit of cash. Frugality won out over anger and she pocketed the spur.

Returning to her search Annie dug around some more, ripping up some of the grass in frustration and tossing it around until at last she unearthed her glasses. They had somehow managed to land several feet away from where she’d dropped them but luckily seemed unharmed by their impromptu flight. With a sigh she plucked them from the ground and sat back on her heels to dust them off, then returned them to their perch atop her nose and rose to her feet with a grumble.

Lenses returned, she surveyed the area around her. The vegetation was actually thin enough now that she could push through with ease. With a final shove, Annie emerged from the brambly hell and into the late afternoon sunlight.

[Annie steps out and finds the cave entrance]

Beyond the brush was several yards of open space in front of the cliffside, and cutting through the center were a set of rails half-buried in the dirt, the thick metal beams stretched towards a yawning hole in the stone. Dried and broken branches haphazardly littered the ground all around them as if they’d been carelessly cleared away to unearth the tracks. And spread across it all was a thick coating of dried blood.

It had been sprayed in a wide arc, as if someone’s artery had been very forcefully severed and then the body left to drain out what blood was left onto the rails.

Just like the motel. Annie thought. But the blood here was much older, completely dry and beginning to flake away despite the sheer amount of it. When had Connor said Jed had found the body? Two weeks? More? It was lucky for them it didn’t rain much here, the scene was mostly intact and it was the spitting image of the scene in Tulvir’s office. Whatever had killed Tulvir had killed this woman first, then dragged her body away from here to be found closer to town.

Annie looked to the tunnel, whatever monster was stalking the town had wanted to protect the tunnel. The dark and scary tunnel. She didn’t like the tunnel. She didn’t want to go in the tunnel. She walked into the tunnel.

It was dark inside. Wow.

Pulling a small lantern from her pouch, Annie pulled out a match and struck it against the metal frame, then opened the tiny window and lit the wick inside. Sparks danced to life inside the glass casting an orange glow around her and illuminating the walls. It only let her see a few yards in front of her, but it was preferable to total darkness. Feeling a bit better she hooked the light to her hip, gave it a pat, then ventured deeper in.

The tunnel at least seemed well made, being wide enough for Annie to fully spread her arms and have a bit of room left before her fingers could brush the carved stone to either side. Heavy cables were strung between wooden support beams that lined the walls, they even had little defunct electrical lights hanging from each post. It was actually pretty nice as far as ancient abandoned mines went, if you ignored the cobwebs.

Passing by a reinforced archway; Annie stuck her head in, hooking the little lantern from her hip to dangle on an outstretched finger and cast light into the room. The dank stone cube was packed with abandoned equipment; a mine cart rested on its side with its wheels partially disassembled and a screwdriver propped up against it, helmets and coveralls covered in grey dust hung on pegs mounted directly into the wall, and several pickaxes were stacked unceremoniously in a corner. It was as if the miners had only just left and they might wander back in at any moment.

She wondered if they had known when they put down their pickaxes that they would never pick them up again. If this place had been home to them or just a cage. A deathtrap just waiting to devour them, bury them under uncaring earth to be lost in the darkness. When they let the lights flicker out for the last time had they abandoned their ghosts to the cave’s cold embrace, forgotten? To gather dust among their tools and yearn for the stars they could never see again, forever afraid of the dark?

Annie pulled herself away from abandoned tools and forgotten ghosts and held her lantern a little closer, letting the light guide her out of the stone room. She wouldn’t join the lost tonight, there was business to attend to.

As she returned to the tunnel, Annie cocked her head. She was beginning to hear a noise, just at the edge of perception, she strained her ears to hear it. It was a metallic sound, perhaps some old machinery except it was erratic and unpredictable, like a full toolbox being hurled down a flight of stairs. But a quiet toolbox, and stairs that were on the other side of the house. Annie hadn't heard anything like it before. She started walking towards it.

The typical quarry of a monster hunter didn't usually make machinery-esq noises. Growls, roars, and squelching noises were more their purview. The sound she heard now was by no means a squelch. Annie was intrigued, she quickened her steps. Maybe she could find something of use in these tunnels after all.

[Who could it be? IT'S YA BOI FILCH]

Romedeus Filch was pretty good at crime, as far as shady characters went. He would even go as far as to say he was proud of his work. Sneaking through shadows and hauling illicit goods was hell on one’s knees; but he got up every morning, did his stretches, gave them a bit of a rub to work out the tension, and went about his dirty business. He was an honest criminal after all.

Filch's honest work had taken him into a system of mining tunnels just outside of Millpoint. They were dark, creepy, and generally not his favorite place to be, but he prided himself on providing his customers with the best possible service. Satisfied customers were repeat customers after all.

His "best possible service" now had him dragging a rickety old hand truck through aforementioned dark and creepy tunnels. The truck rattled incessantly on the roughly carved ground to the point that Filch worried the thing would come apart before he actually made it into town. He didn't relish the idea of hauling his cargo back through the tunnels without its assistance, his knees were already sore enough.

At least his walk to Millpoint was mostly downhill, all he really had to do was keep the hand truck from rolling past him and into the darkness beyond his lantern's glow. There was no telling where it would careen off to in here.

It wasn't that Filch was afraid of the dark. Some of his most lucrative business was conducted in there after all. No, he and the dark had a working relationship. A real thief in the night sort of dynamic. He snuck around, and the dark kept him hidden. It was by far his favorite relationship in his life. The dark had yet to disappoint him.

The darkness in the tunnels should have been no different. Dark was dark. And yet, he was on edge. It was all the earth, he thought. It surrounded him, like the belly of some monstrous beast that had swallowed him up along with the sky and stars. It was unnatural, a man being underground like this. The earth was meant for corpses. No wonder the miners had abandoned the place.

Filch spat at the tunnel wall defiantly and shook his head. He wasn't scared of no ghosts, he'd walked these tunnels dozens of times without a single haunting! There was nothing for him to be scared of. It was just him in these tunnels. Him and his hand truck. All alone with the faint footsteps echoing from further down the tunnel.

Footsteps? In the tunnel? The empty and not-at-all haunted tunnel? He stopped. The crunching sound of distant boots felt deafening in the sudden absence of the hand truck's rattle.

His thoughts raced ahead of him, "Do ghosts wear boots? Do monsters?" No, that was silly. Nobody even knew about these tunnels as far as Filch was aware. It was much more likely it was an animal of some kind that had wandered in looking for shelter for the night. An animal wearing ghost boots; and no ghost-booted animal was going to scare him, no sir. He started forward again, taking small comfort in the incessant rattle that followed as he walked. He could almost imagine he hadn't heard any footsteps at all. For an honest criminal in a definitely-not-haunted tunnel, ignorance was bliss.

Andromeda's bootsteps echoed through the tunnels, not quite lost in the metallic din. She wasn't quite at a full run, but she was certainly beyond a walking pace. Being a tall woman, her stride was long and it didn't take much for her to move quickly. The closer she got to that metallic clanging, the faster she wanted to go. She'd been spinning her wheels since she got here, even a chance of some sort of progress on this job was encouraging.

She rounded the corner at speed and slammed into a hooded figure, sending him sprawling to the floor and knocking over his hand truck with a resounding CRASH! The two of them stared at each other for a split second.

Annie's first instinct was to actually apologize, but just as she opened her mouth to begin the man shouted, "GHOST BOOTS!" and leapt to his feet, shoving her away! Annie, being the mountain of a woman that she was, wasn't as effected by this as he might have expected. The shove didn't actually do much to push her away from him at all. Rather, it sent him spinning backwards to narrowly avoid falling sprawled on the ground once more.

"Ghost boots?" Annie asked, then felt a buzzing at the base of her neck.

A pistol appeared in the man's hand as he spun and Annie had just enough time to duck beneath his arm before fire blazed from its mouth with a deafening [pistol sound, maybe a crack/pop?]! Sparks ricocheted off the tunnel walls as the bullet sailed into the darkness. Pain rang in her ears and sound vanished from the world, as if the Stranger had suddenly had her head plunged underwater.

She snatched the man's wrist and felt the pistol go off again, the shot kicked violently in his hand and nearly wrenched his wrist free from her grip. She smashed his hand into the tunnel wall once, twice, three times before he dropped the gun. She was dimly aware of him yelling and cursing at her, but that didn't stop her from grabbing his throat with her other hand and pinning him against the wall. His mouth was still moving but she couldn't hear him yet, she doubted he could even hear himself right now.

She tightened her grasp around his throat and watched him wheeze, then relaxed it again and let him cough. His mouth stopped moving along with the rest of him after that, so he seemed to get the message. She was surprised he didn't struggle, just stood there and let her hold him against the wall like some sort of ragdoll.

His mouth started to move again, and she picked out the words among the ringing in her ears, "... when I'm... ma'am... give... trouble..."

She shook her head and tilted it to the side, "Come again?"

"Said I won't give you no trouble ma'am, I know when I'm beat!" He hollered, muffled but audible now.

"That was quick," she mused, "Who're you?"

"Romedeus Filch, ma'am."

"Whatcha doing here, Filch?"

"Bit o' business is all."

"Why'd you try to shoot me, Filch?"

"Apologies for that ma'am, you gave me a right good scare you did! Glad to see no harm done to you though."

He seemed genuinely apologetic. Polite, even. Annie was taken aback, "It's... fine?" she said.

"Any chance o' you letting me go now ma'am?"

She shook her head, "Politeness will get you pretty far Filch, but I do draw the line at getting shot at," the man didn't seem like a murderer to Annie. If he had the kind of strength the bodies she'd seen had suggested, there was no way Annie would even be holding him here now. Still, it was suspicious to see someone else in the secret and supposedly abandoned mines, "What kind of business brings you to a place like this?"

Filch's cheeks reddened and he pressed his chin into her knuckle to look at his feet, rubbing a toe into the dirt, "Can't tell you that ma'am," he said sheepishly, "That'd be violating client confidentiality that would!"

"What?" Annie tightened her grip, eliciting a choking noise, "Really?"

He nodded frantically, "I take my clients' privacy very seriously ma'am. Keeps me in business it does!"

The Stranger had to admit, she admired his dedication. That was real customer service! Shame she had to choke him over it. She tightened her grip further and then slackened again.

"Filch," she said seriously, "I don't really want to hurt you, since you apologized and all, but I really do need to know what you're doing in these tunnels."

"And I really can't tell you, ma'am. Truly sorry about that... And this!"

The electrified hum of magic filled the air, making Annie's hair stand on end. She leapt back as pale green threads of light surged to life around Filch, gathering around the tip of a small rod he now held in his hand.

Filch was a Mage.

He had a Needle! A gods damned Needle! Annie was kicking herself, she should've checked for that. She'd been so focused on the pistol she'd left his other hand free to grab it. Stupid!

Most Mages needed a focus of some kind to draw on ambient threads of the Veil. Needle wands were by far the most common, being easy to make and easier to mass produce. Filch had clearly customized his, it was a rough-looking metal with small engravings that glowed with green light, and some kind of leather had been wrapped around the lower shaft to make a handle. Threads of the Veil had been caught inside a hole towards the pointed tip and now trailed after it. Filch waved the needle through the air in a wide arc with a look of fierce concentration, muttering under his breath.

Annie bristled and her fingers slowly wrapped around the grip of the sidearm strapped to her waist. "Filch..." she said warningly, "We don't gotta do this!"

He didn't answer her, just kept muttering as he traced his needle through the air. Each enunciated word created a floating point of light along the threads’ arc, anchoring it in space and gradually creating a jagged geometric pattern in front of him that seemed to writhe against its anchors like a living thing.

Annie couldn't make out his words, but she didn't like magic being pointed at her at the best of times. Magic being pointed at her by a man who'd already tried to shoot her made her understandably uneasy. She drew her pistol and leveled it at him, pulling back the hammer.

“Last warning Filch!” She shouted.

He shouted the last words of his incantation, utterly incoherent beneath the sudden rush of air. It was as if he’d captured a hurricane just to unleash it in the tunnels, battering the Stranger with gale force winds. Annie pulled the trigger and was met with a click. The damn thing was empty.

The enchanted winds tore her off her feet and sent her flying down the tunnel, tumbling through the air like a very upset leaf on the breeze until she slammed into the far wall and crumpled to the ground. Spots danced across her vision as she stared up at the stone ceiling, seriously reconsidering the life choices that led to her being tossed around like a ragdoll. She should charge Connor extra. A lot extra.

She fumbled around for her empty pistol until her fingers wrapped around the smooth wood of the grip and held it above her head. Not yet determined enough to get up she flipped open the cylinder above her, pointing the barrel at the ceiling. It was, in fact, empty and Andromeda berated herself for not bothering to check it before leaving the motel. 

After a failed attempt at digging around in her hip pouch while it was smothered between her hip and the ground, she rolled to her feet with a groan. It had only been a minute or two since Filch had knocked her over, and she could hear his hand truck’s framtic rattle as he booked it in the opposite direction. Annie figured she had a few minutes to load up before she gave chase.

She tugged open her pouch, peered briefly at its contents, and then fished out a handful of bullets. Each was engraved with small runes and a tiny picture, the base of the cartridges painted with a variety of colors. Casually, she loaded the chamber with one grey bullet, two red ones, a blue, a green, and a pink . Then she snapped the chamber closed, returned the pistol to its holster, and squared her feet. Then she shouted, "I'M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS, FILCH!" and took off running after the sound.

The metallic din of hand truck ahead of her started rattling faster and emerald light blazed to life further down the tunnel. A frantic buzzing started against Annie’s chest and he glanced at the spiraled metal emblem bouncing wildly on its chord in time with her steps and emitting a stark white glow.

“You rat bastard! You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” She ripped the bundled blade off her back and began to pull at the knotted string keeping it closed. “These’re always tied too damn tight… Never learn my fucking lesson…” She muttered through gritted teeth.

Annie skidded around the corner to see the smuggler standing with his arms thrown wide in front of a writhing and sparking line of green light suspended in the air. He looked over his shoulder at Annie and then smashed his hands together in front of him grabbing fistfuls of the electrified threads of magic and twisting them hard. A squealing shriek pierced the air and a hole in reality ripped open as though it were the jaws of a hungry beast.

The world around them distorted like a smear of running ink being pulled towards the opening. Annie could feel herself being dragged forward towards the tear and she leapt up and grabbed the cable linking the electrical lights together, then dug her heels into the support beam it was attached to in order to try and anchor herself against the pull and clamped her bundled sword between her knees. The smuggler was doing much the same, hauling himself away from the ragged hole in reality with a thick coil of green energy, the end of which was swiftly vanishing into the tear.

Every tear in the veil is different. This tear in the bowels of the earth was blacker than night, not even the glimmer of Filch's magic could illuminate the oppressive darkness beyond its devouring opening. Then, as suddenly as it had began, the dragging force of the tear stopped, dropping both Annie and Filch to the ground in a cloud of dust.

The silence in the cave was deafening after the shrieking of the tear. The edges of it fizzled and cracked quietly, throwing off sparks. Slowly, painfully, a grey and sallow hand reached out from the darkness within the tear to grip the edge. The edge surged and sparked where it touched and the tunnel filled with the choking smell of dirt and burning flesh

Connor arrived back into town just as the sun reached its peak, parched beyond belief. It had been stupid of him not to bring water for the hike, he usually knew better than that.

_______________________________________________

“I’m looking for someone; tall, dark hair and red eyes. Goes by Andromeda if I’m not mistaken.” She said. There was a hardness to her voice, like the cold steel of a blade.

Connor stiffened, “May I ask what your business with her is?”

A brief twitch disturbed her blank expression, “It’s a… Personal matter. There’s some unfinished business between us.”

He hesitated, the woman narrowed her eyes.

“Right.” She said matter-of-factly and turned away to walk back towards the bar, “I’ll just wait here until… She… Gets back.”

The back of his neck prickled. There was a very specific way some people spoke about folks like him and Annie. As if they only acknowledged their identity as some sort of formality, a minor detail not to be taken seriously or an inconvenience to be navigated. He’d heard it many times himself, the insincerity that dripped from the way they referred to him. Like they were trying to use his pronouns to mock him, or it was some sort of phase they expected him outgrow with time. It sparked an ember of defiance in him, and he grabbed her by the shoulder to spin her back around.

“There’s nobody like that here!” He growled, placing a hand on his sword to emphasize the words, “You’d best be moving along, stranger.”

The woman’s face twitched again as she shrugged off his hand, “I think I’ll stick around all the same. You never know who might turn up in a quaint little town like this.” Behind that blank expression her eyes dared him to argue.

Connor quickly weighed his options. This woman was obviously dangerous, but she wasn’t technically doing anything wrong. Bad vibes aren’t against the law. That put him in a difficult position. The source of his magic, his Icon, was empowered by the ideal of order and bound by the law. It only aided him when he was dealing with someone who had actually broken the law. If he tried to fight this stranger now, force her out of his town, he’d get no help from it. He had to try something else.

“She just left town,” he said through gritted teeth, “Took her money and left. Said something about a job up north.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

“Yes. Seemed like she couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” He spat, “Good riddance.”

This elicited a chuckle, “Can’t say I’m surprised. That one’s used to the finer things. I doubt there’s anything like it out here. No offense.”

Connor was grinding his teeth so hard he thought they might crack, “None taken. We like things simple out here.”

The stranger shrugged, “Alright,” she said, “I can take a hint. I’ll be on my way.” She strode back to the bar and picked up her drink, downing it in one gulp. Then she planted the glass on the counter with a clack and turned back to him, leaning on the counter, “Let’s hope I don’t need to come back.”

Tension hung in the air between them as the two locked eyes. She smiled at him, it reminded Connor of a wolf. His grip on his sword tightened.

“That would be best.” He said.

The woman brushed past him and waved over her shoulder, “Thanks for the drink. I’ll be seeing you.”

As she left Connor looked at the ground by his feet, then to Tallis, “Sorry I spat on your floor, Tallis. You got a rag I can clean it up with?”

Outside the bar the woman in black armor stopped, pulling a necklace from beneath her breastplate. A small red sphere hung from a golden chain, glowing dimly as the liquid inside it pressed against the glass as if it were a living thing. It squirmed back in the direction of the motel. She tucked it back beneath her armor and frowned. That was fine, she could wait a while longer for her guard dog to leave.

Steam billowed out from behind the bathroom door as Annie pushed it open. She patted at her damp strands of hair with the towel draped around her neck and let out contented sigh, then winced and pressed a hand to her side. Maybe Connor was right, she should see a doctor. Except she wasn't a fan of doctors. Used to be she could just take care of things like this herself, but now...

A polite cough tore her from her thoughts and her hand shot to the other towel wrapped around her chest to pin it in place, "Who the hells...?"

She stopped. A woman stood in her doorway, leaning casually against the frame. Strands of white hair that had been tied in a loose bun framed her cold grey eyes, and black armor covered her body like the carapace of some enormous insect. Her hand rested lightly on one of two pistols strapped to her hips on either side, and a finger tapped against it.

"Vrath," Annie’s eyes widened and then quickly narrowed, "Long time. Most people are polite enough to fucking knock"

"Hey Stranger," the woman, Vrath, smirked, "That's what you're calling yourself these days, right?"

Annie ground her teeth, "How'd you find me?"

Vrath glanced at the pistol hanging from the back of the chair across the room and then back at Annie, "You still have my gun."

"I've kept it in good shape," she said, "Stay a while and I'll give you a personal demonstration."

"How about you come with me instead? Though I might suggest you get dressed first." Vrath look her up and down and raised an eyebrow.

Annie bristled, "How the fuck did you find me Jaigra?"

The other woman raised her hands in mock surrender, "Okay, okay. Here," She slowly reached a hand into her breastplate and withdrew the red sphere, allowing it to dangle from her finger, "This is it. A token of your house."

"My house!?" Annie realized she'd shouted the words. She recognized the red sphere immediately. It was a Theran Hound Sphere, a small device that used blood magic to track whoever was unfortunate enough to have their blood inside of one. She'd seen a few of them before, mostly in the possession of bounty hunters intent on claiming some poor sap's head.

Andromeda Flynn, unfortunately, tended to be one such poor sap.

She collected herself and in a lower voice said, "It's been years since I left. I'd have thought they ran out of blood to throw at cheap bounty hunters." She spat the words.

Jaigra-the-actually-rather-expensive-bounty-hunter’s face twitched in an almost imperceptible sneer, "I guess your family traded in a few favors just for you, sweetheart."

The Stranger's cheeks reddened, "If they're thick enough to give it to you then I guess you're still the lapdog of the only House that'll take you. They let you sleep at the foot of their bed too?"

If that barb struck her, this time she didn't show it. With a sudden air of seriousness Jaigra took a few steps towards Annie and said, "This has gone on long enough Andromeda. You've had your fun, it's time to come home."

Annie leaned towards her, "The only reason I'll ever go back to that place is to burn it to the ground," she growled in a low voice.

"Be serious. Nobody can resist Therult, not even a lord contender like you. The amaryllis always blooms."

"Oh don't try that stupid catchphrase with me," Annie groaned, "I'm no contender and if the amaryllis wants to bloom so damn bad then they can send a real Amaryll Lord to do the job, not some two-bit bloodhound."

"Oh honey, you're not that important," the two-bit bloodhound chided, "You'll just have to settle for little old me."

The two women glared daggers at each other until Vrath sighed. She pressed her fingers to her temple and ran them through her hair, "Andromeda..."

"No."

"You don't even-"

"No!" Annie shouted, "Leave. Now. I'm not asking."

Vrath took a step back and then paused. “Please come back Andromeda. I’m the only one who’s going to be nice about this, no one else is going to be as kind.”

Annie lunged at her, pinning the bounty hunter to the wall with her forearm and tearing Vrath's gun from its holster, “I'm done fucking around, Jaigra!” she snarled and shoved its barrel into her ribs under her breastplate, forcing a pained wheeze from the other woman.

Jaigra pressed her hand against Annie's side eliciting a ragged cry of pain from the Stranger as she quickly shoved herself away, gun still leveled at Jaigra's chest. A red stain was creeping down white towel wrapped around Andromeda and Jaigra looked at the blood glistening on the black leather of her glove in shock.

"Andromeda!" she started, hand outstretched.

Annie had slumped onto the bed clutching her wound, gun unsteady in her hand but still pointed at her, "Don't," her voice was quavered, "You've done enough." The words hung in the air between them.

“Miss Annie?” A voice called from the hallway. Jaigra turned to look. Connor was standing there just beyond the door, hand on his sword and his eyes darted between the Stranger and bounty hunter, "Are you ok?"

"I'm..." she winced, "I'm fine deputy. It's just..." her eyes rolled back and she collapsed onto the bed, limp.

"Andromeda!" Jaigra ran towards the bed.

"Stop right there, ma'am." Connor ordered, his voice full of steel, "You are breaking and entering and suspected of committing assault. Leave now or I will place you under arrest."

She whirled on him, "Listen here you little shit-"

The air in the room changed, flooded with a buzz of magic as a silhouette appeared behind the Paladin, outlining him in a halo of golden light. 

"That was not a suggestion, ma'am." Connor stared her down.

Jaigra slowly retracted her hand and placed it on her remaining pistol, "Will you get her medical attention?" she asked.

"Yes?" Connor was a bit taken aback.

"Okay," Jaigra sighed, glanced at the old pistol hanging on the back of the chair, and rubbed her eyes, "I'm leaving. Damn it!"

Connor didn't take his hand off his sword until the bounty hunter walked out the motel's front door, then he dashed to the bedside. 

"Annie!" he lifted her gently and pat her cheek a few times, "Annie can you hear me?" No response except her steady, wheezing breaths, "Alright, hang on!" He pulled a loose blanket from the bed and draped it over her, hurriedly grabbed her clothes from the bathroom, then lifted her off the mattress and carried her back out into the hallway. 

"Tallis!" He shouted, "Will you run ahead and tell the doc we're coming? Annie needs help!"

Tallis nodded and hopped the counter, taking off out the door and down the street.

"Hang on Miss Annie, just hang on..." he whispered. 

“I… Heard a little bit of what she said, miss Annie.”

Andromeda froze, then slowly turned to Connor, “Yeah?”

“She really knew how to get under your skin, didn’t she?”

She puffed out her cheeks in a long wheeze, “Yeah,” she said.

The silence that hung in the air between them was long and stilted and, much like a novice stilter, crumbled easily at the slightest push.

“I'm not gonna pretend to know you, miss Annie. Your business is your own. But as long as you're in my town, I'm here if you'd like to talk."

All the gears in Annie's head ground to a sudden halt, she could swear smoke would pour out her ears any second. Talk? To a person? In real life? The thought left her dumbstruck. Tears leapt to the corners of here eyes unbidden and she tried to blink them away. Like hell she was going to cry over a little thing like this.

"Um... Yeah. Sure." She rubbed her eyes into her sleeve furiously, pushing her glasses up onto her forehead briefly before they plopped back back down to the bridge of her nose when she was finished. Then she shuffled back into her room unceremoniously.

Connor poked his head around the doorframe, "Is that a 'I'm game to talk,' yeah sure or a 'Please leave me alone,' yeah sure?"

"Yeah." Annie flopped down onto the bed to stare at the ceiling.

"Well that's just plain unhelpful!" He trotted in behind her. She heard the click of her door closing and the creak of Connor settling into the room's solitary chair, "You know, I haven't actually spent much time in the motel's rooms. It looks nice though."

"It's better than sleeping in a tent."

"I'll bet!" Connor laughed. It was a pleasant sound, the sort of deep lilting laugh that comes from genuine joy that one could feel in their bones and just had to share with the world. It wasn't loud, exactly, but it had a presence that couldn't be missed; like the warm rays of dawn that creep through the window and alight along your skin before you're fully awake and willing to open your eyes.

[might need a bit more filler here]

Annie sighed, then took off her glasses and set them on the dresser beside the bed, "Fuck it, fine. What do you want to talk about, deputy?”

“I’m primarily concerned with the scary-looking heavily armed woman who broke into your motel room. But if you don’t wanna talk about her you don’t have to!” he somehow managed to make that sound cheerful.

“Of course you do,” Annie cupped her hands over her face briefly and pressed her fingers to her eyelids, “We used to be friends, I think.

“Were you close?”

“I trusted her more than anyone in the world. And she…” the tears welled up once again and she rolled on her side to face the wall away from Connor, “She broke my heart.”

”That’s awful Annie, I’m sorry. What, uh, what happened?” he asked.

“She sold me out.” Annie laughed bitterly, “She’s the one who… Ugh! It doesn’t matter anymore. It was a lifetime ago. I left because of her, let’s leave it at that.”

“Left where?”

“Therult. I was born there."

Connor was quiet for a moment, studying her before he said, "Is it true y'all have red eyes? Is that why you have the glasses?"

Red eyes. That's the first thing anyone asked about Therans. They were a symptom of blood magic usage which, to be fair, was a common enough practice in the Theran Empire. Especially when you compared it to the surrounding countries that banned its use outright. But that's not something Annie was eager to tell the Paladin of the Lamaryll Union no matter how nice he was.

"Some of us do." She said.

"Huh. I wonder why?"

Annie shrugged noncommittally and made a vague "I dunno," noise. Connor seemed satisfied with that.

"You couldn’t stay?" he asked.

"I wanted to be my true self. They made it very clear that wasn't an option, so I left."

"I know the feeling," Connor said, "My 'ma wasn't all that welcoming when I came out either."

Andromeda sat up to stare at him, "What?"

"Yeah, she wasn't thrilled about it, kinda made it into a whole thing. My 'pa took to the idea like a fish to water though, said he'd always wanted a son and all that." He shrugged. 

"Seriously? You? Connor Kenton McFucking Junior?" 

"Oh yeah, he loved the 'Junior' bit. He got all teary-eyed when I told him that's what I wanted to be called," he paused, "Huh."

"What?" 

"You really do have red eyes," Connor tilted his head to the side not unlike a confused retriever, "They're pretty, like rubies."

She blushed and turned away. Nobody had talked about her eyes that way since... Well it had been a long time. "Thanks, Connor."

“It’s just the truth Miss Annie, no need to thank me for it!” Connor beamed. Something about it irritated Annie.

"You're too damn nice, you know that?"

"Well, I think that's better than being too damn mean. Don't you?"

Andromeda was far too much of a grouch for this line of thinking, but she supposed she could see his point. So she just grunted irritably. 

Annie awoke with a start. She kicked the blanket off of herself and shot out of bed, then promptly tripped over a chair and tumbled down onto the carpet. It was a faded green and surprisingly plush, although her chafed and sore cheek disagreed with the assessment.

After a moment of lying in a heap to lament the motel’s choice of chair placement, Annie gingerly picked herself off the ground and replaced the chair. Then she gave it a soft kick to make herself feel better. Dignity returned and nightmare-based adrenaline receding, Annie carefully picked her way through the dark and over to the bathroom.

She didn’t turn on the light, that might involve looking in the mirror, just ran the sink and splashed some water onto her face. As she watched the water stream into the drain the thought of returning to sleep wasn’t terribly appealing. Instead she stopped the water, donned her boots and duster, and stepped out into the hallway.

Unsurprisingly, it was also dark.

Placing a hand along the wall, she meandered down the hallway, taking care not to stumble or clomp her boots too loudly against the hardwood for fear of waking the other tenants. Only once she was out of the motel and onto the street did she allow herself a sigh, puffing out a cloud of fog into the desert night air.

“Dammit.”

The side effects of consuming magic seemed random to Annie. Some days it was nausea, others it was a sort of manic adrenaline high. Tonight it was nightmares and migraines. Lucky her.

The quiet was helping. The whole town was asleep now, not a single light illuminated the empty streets except the moon. The Stranger’s only company tonight would the stars and the dust kicked up beneath her feet as she walked. At least they didn’t need much in the way of conversation. Annie preferred a quiet stroll.

She pulled her duster close against the wind and looked up. Millpoint’s pride and joy loomed above her, its sails stretched across their turbines that cut across the moon as they spun in a lazy circle. It was a calming sight and Annie found herself breathing in time to the turning mill.

[The “Thud, thud, clunk!” is a callback to Annie checking out the windmill during the daytime.]

A creaking “Thud… Thud… Clunk!” broke the silence. The windmill’s exterior door lurched open with its rusty squeals of protest and an exasperated Sheriff Jed emerged from inside. He heaved on a small hand truck to pull it over the last steps and out into the street with a clatter that made Annie wince. The cart was loaded with what looked like a large metal cylinder adorned with a series of blinking lights and a short black hose capped with some sort of metal attachment poking out of the top.

The Sheriff looked around anxiously and Annie slipped into the shadows. She watched him maneuver the hand truck onto the road and begin to wheel it away, heading further into town and… hum to himself?

The Stranger’s weirdness gauge was at full capacity. She wasn’t going to get back to sleep anyway, might as well see what Sheriff Dickhead was up to. She started after him, keeping to the pockets of darkness within the alleys and behind buildings where she could stay hidden.

[Every so often Jed would stop and take another look around and she would have to duck behind a wall to avoid his gaze] His route through town was bizarre, [Show, don’t tell!]

After a few minutes of walking the main road he suddenly took a sharp turn left, lunging into an alleyway. As much as one can lunge with a hand truck anyway. Then the brim of his 10-gallon hat then poked back around the corner and Annie had just enough time to duck behind the wooden post of a porch before his head whipped around to stare goggle-eyed back the way he came. Then, with a nod, he disappeared down the alley once more.

She let out a small grunt of irritation and peered out from her hiding place, then followed after him a bit more wary than before. Jed may have been a buffoon, but he was a paranoid buffoon. Luckily he wasn’t difficult to tail, the squeak of his ancient hand truck echoed down the alley like a trail of creaky breadcrumb leading her on. He stuck to the alleys and side streets, darting this way and that seemingly at random. It was beginning to make Annie’s head spin.

He finally stopped somewhere at the edge of town. An open space behind what Annie was pretty sure was [Doctor’s Name]’s clinic that was pressed up against the sharply sloping stone wall that made up the exterior of the ravine. A scruffy stretch of overgrown bushes lined the stone and was beginning to creep out towards the clinic unhampered. The doctor rarely bothered to trim bushes he wouldn’t see.

Sheriff Jed leaned against his hand truck, smoking a cigarette and watching the bushes intently. Then, at some unseen signal, he flicked it to the dirt and ground it under his heel.

Annie was about to step out to confront the Sheriff when the bushes began to shake. Then they lifted right off the ground!