We fell on hard concrete, which did wonders for my knees and ankles. The darkness swallowed us up, and I couldn't see my hand when I held it up to my face. Silence echoed in my ears, and I realized the sirens were gone. Were they gone, or had we found another entrance to somewhere not-quite-home?

"Mac?" Del was close. That was more comforting than I could put into words. As weird as it sounded, if I had to be stuck in a weird, darkened basement with anybody, I was glad it was Del.

"Here," I said. "You okay?"

"Oh, yeah," Del said. "I love diving into random basements where I can't see anything. That's what I do for kicks."

"No one says kicks, Del."

"No?"

"I say kicks."

I hadn't spoken. Neither had Del. If I was any good at math, and in this case, it was basic addition, that had to mean someone else was in the room. My already frazzled nervous system kicked into overdrive.

"What the actual fuck!" Del screamed, and in most cases, that's usually a question. The way Del said it just then was most definitely a statement – one I had to appreciate.

"You're the one who wrote on the glass." I forced myself to take a deep breath and clenched my hands into fists. Whenever Captain Amygdala and His High-jack of Doom came out to play, I used my little tricks to try to take back control of the situation. Sometimes they proved successful.

"Yes! Yes, that was me!" They sounded excited – almost proud of themselves.

"This may be rude or presumptuous – " I started.

"Presumptuous?" Del asked. "I didn't know you knew that word."

"Del! I know lots of words! My life isn't all Tyrant Kings and hanging out in your game store! I have read a book on occasion!"

"And that book had presumptuous in it?"

"It did! And I had to look it up! So I definitely know what presumptuous means!"

Our new friend was laughing at us. I didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved. I felt that insulted would more than likely provoke some kind of unwanted conflict between us and the disembodied voice, so I chose relieved.

"Go ahead!" it said. "Presumpt away!"

Now it was my turn to laugh. At least the voice had a sense of humour. Maybe we weren't going to die, after all – not right away, and that again was reason to celebrate.

"It's super dark in here," I said. "I don't know if we're still hiding from the cops or if me and Del – "

"Del and I." Del couldn't help himself, grammar bitch that he was.

"Del!" I snarled. "Not the time!"

"Sorry," he muttered.

"No, no, it's me that's sorry!" Our friendly voice fumbled over itself. "This form I've chosen lets me see in the dark. One second."

The room was suddenly awash in warm golden light, but not so bright that Del and I had to shield our eyes. Still, I had to blink a few times to make sure that I truly was, in fact, standing next to a bright purple squirrel.

"You're a purple squirrel," Del said. I could always trust him to state the obvious.

"Violet, if we're getting technical," the squirrel said. It preened its whiskers and reached into a tiny satchel it had slung over its shoulder. "Purple is such a vague, blanket colour. Anyone can slap red and blue together and call it purple. Violet has integrity, commitment. Bruises are purple. Barney the Dinosaur is purple. If you can't distinguish between the two, we'll call the whole thing off now. I'm sure the authorities would love to know who sent those fireballs into the sky."

"You're violet! He's sorry, I'm sorry, you're violet!" I squealed. "We've just never seen a violet squirrel before."

"Or a talking one," Del said.

"I'm your first talking violet squirrel?" The rodent seemed genuinely excited. "You really are new at this, aren't you? When they told me to come find you, I didn't realize just how fresh you were! How exciting!"

"New at what?" Del asked. I could have flung something at him if I had anything on hand. New at needlepoint, dear friend? Cross-country skiing? What the hell was wrong with him?

"The transition from caloric intake to unconventional methods of energy transference and physical manipulation of the world entire." The squirrel sounded like it had just explained rocket science to someone on the moon. It must have been able to read something in our blank expressions because if mine looked anything like Del's, we were about as blank as a brand-new sketchbook. "Magic, in layman's terms."

Well, shit. I'd known for years magic was real, even if I wasn't supposed to say it out loud. And not obvious bullshit like Santa or the Easter Bunny or even the fucking Tooth Fairy – those were clearly all made up to sell shit and make parents look pitiful by comparison. A magical man that flies around the world in seventeen hours delivering custom-requested presents to an ever-increasing number of who-gives-a-shit-who-you-believe-in children from across the globe? Yeah, clearly invented by someone disgruntled with his relationship with his parents who needed to cook up someone to ruin people's lives every December.

But magic itself – deep-seated magic that could change the world around – was real, and I'd known it for years.

"I knew it!" Del cheered. Of course, my Dungeons & Dragons-addicted chum was in the magic is real camp. He'd never doubted it for a second. "I fucking knew it!"

"Yes, well done, good for you," the squirrel said. "It's not your fault for missing it until now. Humans are by far the worst species to ever exist. Magic had to go by the wayside to make room for..."

The squirrel reached into its satchel and pulled out a short scroll of paper. It read it and shook its head.

"Profits. Gods, what is it with you people and money?" it asked.

"Don't look at us," I said. "Not enough money to buy dinner!"

"I was hoping you were hungry!" The squirrel clapped its paws and reached back into its satchel. "I brought samosas!"

It handed each of us a huge, fist-sized piping hot samosa – a giant, deep-fried spicy potato dumpling that tasted like actual heaven, especially with mango chutney – and grinned as we ate the shit out of them.

"Thanks," I said, fanning my mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to soothe the fresh hot potato burns. "I didn't realize how hungry I was."

"Yes, well, you haven't been taking care of yourself, Mackenzie," the squirrel said.

I froze. Up until this point, I'd been going along for the ride. Sure, there was a violet squirrel right in front of me. I'd shot fireballs out of my hands, and now I had eaten a samosa the size of my hand out of a bag that didn't look big enough to hold it. All of that was cool, all of that I could roll with.

But the fucker knew my name. What the hell.

"Okay," I said, swallowing the last chunk of samosa. "Best samosa I ever had, by the way."

"I make my own garam masala," said the squirrel. "Whole spices, roasted and ground by yours truly."

"Damn," Del said. "I'll need that recipe."

"Over my dead body! And I can't die, so you'll be waiting an awfully long time!"

I couldn't take it anymore. I had to know what the hell was going on. "How do you know my name?"

The squirrel fixed its keen eyes on me, and I felt that stare right to my bones. Those were ancient eyes, and I could tell they'd seen things from before my time – before anyone's time.

"I've known your name since before you were born, Mackenzie," the squirrel said. "Even if it didn't have spoken form yet, I knew you when you were a figment of your mother's imagination."

"Okay," I said. I was at a serious disadvantage if Oldass the Squirrel knew my name and everything about me. "I think it's only fair that we get your name."

"And why would I give you my name?" The squirrel grinned. Its teeth shone pearly white inside the mouth of deep purple. "You feel my power over you, don't you?"

"Yeah," Del said.

"I was speaking to Mackenzie, spare," the squirrel said, not even looking at Del. "But I appreciate your honesty nonetheless."

"I do feel it," I said. "I'm not looking for power over you. This is all new to me. I've never experienced anything like this before. Fireballs, being chased by the police, that weird running shit I did – "

"A purple squirrel," Del said.

"Violet, stupid man. Honestly, if you're going to tag along for the ride, you're going to have up your intelligence game several notches, Del," the squirrel said. It looked oddly like Del's mother, paws crossed over its chest with one foot tapping on the ground.

"Violet, sorry. My bad."

"Yes, it is your bad. And Mackenzie – "

"Please call me Mac."

"I'm sorry?"

I cleared my throat. I didn't have to talk to people about this often because I introduced myself as Mac to everyone I met.

"I like to be called Mac. My parents named me Mackenzie, but everyone calls me Mac. I don't see myself as Mackenzie."

"Very well. Mac. I will endeavour to remember your request. I make no guarantees, seeing as how you went into the records a thousand years ago as Mackenzie, but Mac you are."

"What records?" Del asked.

"The records! You haven't even heard of the records? Things really have deviated from anything that matters down here, haven't they?"

"I'm not sure," I said. "I don't know how things were before. I've only been around a little while, you know?"

"I think I know," Del said. "I don't know anything about the records, but I always had a hunch all the Dungeons and Dragons stuff, Lord of the Rings, everything like that, kind of came from somewhere. Somewhere real. Like the stuff they were talking about actually happened. Maybe not exactly how they said, but they got their ideas from something. Am I close?"

The squirrel looked at Del as if seeing him for the first time. "So the spare's not so useless, after all. I'll give you close. Your world doesn't give artists enough credit. When you all started thinking 'money' meant 'good,' the writing was on the wall. I will allow your spare to stay."

"What happens if you tell us your name?" I asked. "Is it like Rumpelstiltskin?"

"That shitty dwarf that ripped himself in half when he didn't get his way? No, nothing like that. Don't believe everything you read, Mac."

"But you just said – " Del spluttered.

"I know what I just said, Spare," the squirrel said. "Even some of the magical stories are total bullshit. You need to do a better job at remembering which ones."

"My friend's name is Del," I said. "Please don't call him spare anymore."

The squirrel stared at me again, those timeless eyes digging into me all over again. It wasn't the most pleasant experience I'd ever had. Still, Del was my best friend. Even if this squirrel could destroy us with a thought or turn us both into toilet mould by snapping its fingers, I wouldn't let it keep giving Del the business like that.

"Well, well, Mac, you continue to surprise," said the squirrel. "You speak up for yourself and your barely functioning companions. A defender for all, the light of true justice guiding us to a better future and harmonious co-existence."

"I don't know about all that. Just be nice to Del, is all I'm asking."

The squirrel was silent for a long time. I couldn't tell if it was deciding whether or not we were worth the trouble. Del and I glanced at each other, and I just shook my head.

"You are Mac. You are Del." The squirrel took a deep breath. "And I am Chandra."

I took my first 'normal' breath since we'd jumped through the window.

"Chandra." Saying it out loud somehow made the squirrel more real to me. It wasn't like I hadn't believed in it until this point because I usually believed what I saw unless I was dreaming. Even then, I was willing to suspend disbelief more often than not, but having a name – the squirrel giving us its name without us having to trick it or deceive it or somehow steal it seemed right. "What a lovely name."

"Never been a big fan, myself," Chandra said. "I won't even tell you what it's short for. Let's just say there's not enough paper in the world to write my whole name down."

Del put up his hand. We'd been out of school for a couple of years now, and this guy still put up his hand like he needed permission to talk.

"Just say what's on your mind, Del," Chandra said. "Although I do appreciate the polite gesture. I can't tell you the reputation you humans have for rudeness. It's legendary."

"I hope this isn't culturally insensitive – " Del stammered.

The sirens roared to life again, like the police outside had caught our scent again.

"Will they find their way down here?" I asked.

"Your human cops won't," Chandra explained. "It's pitch black, and I've put a couple of extra dimensions on this room to make it impossible to even see with the human eye."

"What?" Del asked. It wasn't the most intelligent of questions, but it got right to the point. Del was good like that.

"Humans won't see what they don't understand," Chandra said. "When you killed magic, you killed your ability to see anything beyond the boring."

The room shook as something big smashed into the wall. Chandra reached into its satchel and pulled out what looked like two wristbands.

"Put these on."

I slid the band onto my arm without thinking twice. It fit perfectly and was warm to the touch.

"What are these for?" Del asked.

"They'll help you travel across layers," Chandra said.

"Layers?" I asked.

"Shifts in perspective. Humans see in the three dimensions and refuse to accept that there's anything beyond their limited scope. There are more layers than anyone can even possibly comprehend. Even someone like me, and I've been around for a day or two."

I couldn't pretend I was even beginning to understand, but I wasn't about to disagree with the magical purple...sorry, violet...squirrel that seemed to know her way around a satchel.

"You said human cops," Del said. "Does that mean some of them aren't human?"

"And here I was thinking you weren't a dead loss, after all," Chandra said. "Of course, not all your cops are humans! You may not believe in us anymore, but sadly, we aren't afforded that luxury. You spend so much time trying to kill each other that we've got to step in and make sure you don't every now and then."

"Why are these ones after us?" I asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Chandra said. "And that is why you have to come with me. If you stay, I make no promises about what will happen to you. You come with me, you're going to see some shit that will change your lives, and make you doubt your reality and question your sanity. Either way, it's now or never."

Del and I exchanged a glance.

"We'll go," we said as one.