Calponia woke up surrounded by sunflowers.

Full bursting blooms turned toward her with their sun maned faces. All of them turned toward her, actually, as if their were watching her. She sighed, sinking back into the plush mattress. They were watching her. The Edgewise was over compensating.

She could feel it hovering over her, holding its breath.

"I'm okay," she said, snuggling deep under her covers. "Thank you for the flowers."

Someone snorted to her left, by the window with the view of sunshine and summer she loved so much. "Flowers on every available surface. I had to fight for a chair, you know. Took out three vases."

Calponia rolled over, partially hiding beneath her fluffy comforter. She so wasn't ready for this conversation. Physically, she felt fine, a little stiff, but the memories kicking around in her head were another matter. If she opened her mouth to talk to Mack she worried she'd start screaming and never stop. Thankfully another emotion tamped down her fear, burning low in her gut and heating her cheeks. She sat up, woozy but stable, and clasped her hands under the blanket so her boss couldn't see them shaking.

"That wasn't fair," she said.

Mack inclined his head at her, his blue eyes full of smoke and shadows, and a steaming pile of indecipherable emotions. The beard hid his mouth for the most part but she was pretty sure he wasn't smiling at her. She would start throwing things if he smiled. "What, exactly, wasn't fair?"

Her hands clenched beneath the comforter. "Being dragged to a strange world. Told nothing about it. Not told what to expect. Not told about you." His shoulders gave the sparest flinch at that. Mack rubbed his arm, the one he'd used to siphon off the effects of the bète noir. Of course it was free of bandages, revealing smooth, albeit hairy skin. She scrunched up her face. "Don't even know what the hell your deal is. I saw you die. I stood over your body right before a bunch of alien vampires hauled me off to the eighth circle of hell."

Mack's forehead wrinkled. "Alien vampires?"

"Don't change the subject," Calponia snapped. She drew up her knees, sandwiching her hands between her thighs so she didn't do something rash like strangle her boss. She had a distinct impression it 'wouldn't take'. "You threw me into a situation with no idea what the hell was going on or what could happen."

He folded his arms over his chest, the frown never quite leaving his face. "Would you have gone with me if you had all the information?"

Calponia threw up her hands. She rolled out of bed, jabbing a finger into the man's broad chest. "That is not the point, you idiot. I almost died because you were irresponsible. I didn't have to be in that situation Mack. I could have helped you. I could have helped myself instead of standing there like a useless damsel to be carted off to the tower. I. Hate. Being. Helpless." She punctuated each word stabbing her index finger into his chest; not realizing they'd backed up until Mack hit the wall.

The man had at least half a foot height on her and far more muscle mass, but for a moment, he looked thoroughly ruffled by his slight apprentice. Her words hung between them, the ring of truth taking the fight out of her. Calponia stepped away from him and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her bare feet. Someone had removed her soiled clothes, leaving her in an oversized t-shirt that hung to her knees. She rubbed her face, grateful she wasn't wearing her muck coated clothes but not certain she wanted to know who stripped her out of them. Please be Cesario or even Lady Agatha, she silently prayed. Her skin was still grimy, streaks of mud flaking off her calves. What she wouldn't do for a long, hot shower, but this was more important. There had to be boundaries established, here and now, the lines had to be drawn, the–

"You're right," said Mack, staring at the ground. His whole countenance sagged, dragged down by an epic unseen weight that made her worry for her boss despite her ire with him.

Calponia licked her lips. "Right, exactly, about what?"

"Oh, everything." He sighed. "Sanguinheim was a piss poor choice for a first outing no matter how you slice it." He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. "And I owe it to you to make sure you know what you are getting into." He shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the aspect of more talking.

She stared at him, a million questions swarming in her skull, their buzz drowning out any coherent string of thought she might have. Too many questions. She tamped them down, carefully sorting through them until she found the one she wanted to know the most. "What are you?"

Mack started, shifting from one foot to the other. "Obviously, I'm a barkeep."

She scowled at him.

"Alright, alright," said Mack, crossing the room to ease on the bed beside her. "The first question out of your mouth has the most complicated answer."

Calponia shrugged. "It's not so complicated if you break it down in parts."

"Oh? How so?"

"Are you human?" She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. Mack looked up at the ceiling, considering her question for an inordinate length of time.

"Mostly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That I am slightly something else."

She bit her lip, seeing a circular dance taking place between them. "That slightly part of you...is that what brought you back?"

He paused, weighing his answer. "Yes."

Calponia nodded, not truly understanding what he offered but she did understand something about him. "You don't have to explain what you are all that often, do you?"

Mack gave half a chuckle, rubbing his forearm again. "You're the first."

She blinked at him again. "You've never had to do this before?"

He shrugged. "You're my first...and probably last apprentice, Calponia Anders. And I almost got you killed on your first foray out the door. I will never let that happen to you again. I promise."

The rafters creaked above them. Mack's gaze rolled upward with a bitter glare. "I already admitted I erred in not preparing her," he snapped at the ceiling. "I didn't expect things to get out of hand so quickly." The last words drifted off on a murmur as Mack turned thoughtful.

Calponia gave him a moment, fiddling with the edges of her gritty bed sheet. "What exactly happened on Sanguinheim? Before you got nailed?"

Mack ran a hand over his bearded chin, his gaze concentrated on something very far from where they currently were. "You mean that pile of dead things that did not belong? Somebody put them there, someone who is opening doors that should never be opened."

There was no inflection to his words, nothing to rightfully cause the shivers that dripped and slid their way between her shoulder blades, like ghostly fingers tapping down her spine. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry from implications she didn't understand except on the most basic primitive level. Some doors should stay locked.

"What will happen to Sanguinheim?" Did she care about their fate? It seemed like an awful place that bred awful people. Was Eugene really from there or was he lying for some unknown reason?

"For now, probably nothing," said Mack, tugging on his beard. "But that..."

He looked up, catching her eye. "That little spectacle was just the beginning."

The fetid puddles of London's back alleys marked her flight in soft splashes. The icy water seeped through the leather of her boots. Cesario stumbled at the brick and mortar wall, digging her fingers into the dusty cracks between stones as she gasped on a painful breath of air. The pause chilled the sweat pouring down her face and back. She winced, squeezing at the pinch in her side as someone caught up to her, collapsing on the wall beside her.

"We have to keep moving," wheezed the old man. Cesario nodded, starting to move again when her companion collapsed to his knees.

"No, no, come on," she wrapped her arms around him, her hand landing in the dark wet patch staining his back. Shocked, she pulled her hand away to stare at the blood on her fingers.

"Go," he choked, a thin trickle of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth. "You need to go. You need to warn the waykeeper."

"And you're coming with me," said Cesario, holding up the majority of his weight.

"No, go, they will catch us," he moaned. He was right. He was dead weight in her arms, but she'd be damned if she left him behind.

"Do you have chalk, charcoal, something, anything to draw with?" Cesario looked down at her companion. His head lolled against her shoulder. He'd passed out. His wrinkled face was bone white in the dim alley light, his blood soaked clothing sticking to her bare arm. She jerked at the far off sound of splashing, the puddles warning her of their approach. No time, she had no time. Each breath threatened to turn over in her lungs. She was seconds from hyperventilating. Her free hand frantically patted her pockets, searching for anything she could draw a door with.

Could the Edgewise sense her need?

The splashes drew closer.

Cesario's breathe seized in her throat. She bit down hard on her tongue to keep from coughing out loud and giving them away. Not that it mattered. The Inquisitors would be on them any moment. She stopped, her mind reaching a dark conclusion. Cesario carefully shifted her companion's weight to her other arm and lifted up her soiled hand. She drew the outline of the door with the blood of her friend. Tears slipped down her face, but it was completed in seconds. She rapped her knuckles against the stones, once, twice, thrice.

Let us in, let us in, she pleaded silently to the night sky above them. There were no stars to light the way. They were gone. All of them were gone. Only the distant moon and the dingy street lamps were left to chase away the dark. A long shadow licked at her feet. Cesario gasped, eyes wide as she saw what approached.

The door swung open, catching her off balance. She heard the vicious snarl of the Inquisitors, sensing their prize slipping out of their reach. Cesario let herself fall, clasping her companion tight as their slumped across the warm whiskey soaked wood of the Edgewise floor.

She kicked the door shut behind her.