Timothy

Three weeks.

I hit hard the sac. Right, left. Right. Dodge. Right. A drop of sweat approached an eye. I swiped it on my shirt. The sleeve was already rather humid. The movement was awkward due to the two bulky boxing gloves I was wearing. I hadn't even known I still owned them. But there they had been in the storage room, forgotten and alone with my ancient gym bag.

I hadn't slept.

I had tried to do an assignment still in the evening while Plume played his guitar in his own little mental world. But during the evening, the pointlessness of the task had eaten up almost all of my motivation. If I became a vampire, I doubted I would feel like continuing my studies. And if my family wasn't there, I doubted I would have the fire to continue either. And if I was dead, well... Suddenly school had seemed like a rather trivial detail.

And at eight in the morning after a sleepless night, it had suddenly seemed like the perfect idea to try discovering what things were worth living for exactly.

Front, back, front, dodge, front. I gave the sac a few tentative kicks. Very softly. Even then the thing swayed violently.

Endorfine. I had always responded well to physical activities. Even this body felt it. This body that wasn't mine. That was the underlying reason why I had given in to Valentina's practice.

Damnit.

I had known I couldn't...

No... I hadn't known. I hadn't thought.

The sac swayed as I aimed two more kicks at it. Even when I had aimed the second kick to counter the swaying movement. I was supposed to do boxing. I steadied it with my gloved hands and returned to hitting it.

I wasn't surprised. It actually made total sense.

If I had been a vampire.

"A vampire controlled by the human world is a dangerous vampire, Timothy. I will not allow my son to be dangerous if he doesn't choose to be. Drop."

Mo's words from three years ago rang in my ears.

Controlled by the human world. Mo wouldn't allow me to be controlled by the human world. She wouldn't let me be human. And there were three simple solutions to eliminating human control in my life.

I tried to jump kick the sac to the other end of the gym room. I slipped. And hit the less than gentle laminate floor ribs first.

A shocked laugh escaped my lips. I pushed myself to a sitting position, feeling lightheaded. Shameful enough, it seemed I had slipped on my own sweat.

Neither of the two other students had paid any attention. Both had music streamed into their ears and they seemed absorbed in their running cycles.

I was almost certain I hadn't broken anything, but I didn't feel like hitting anything anymore either. So I lifted myself off the floor. Without thinking, I took my shirt off and wiped the sweat off the floor with it. I had a towel in the bag, but it was at the other end of the room. And I wanted to shower. And I wanted a clean towel afterwards. The shirt wasn't exactly dry to start with. It wasn't a clean shirt anymore.

I walked to the changing rooms. As I went, I passed the dojo. The curtain wasn't drawn and I could clearly see a morning kettlebell session taking place. No Valentina. No Blizzard.

After the shower, when I came back to my bag to an empty changing room, I felt my ribs with a hand, pushing lightly. It kind of itched. But the hip felt worse. I would probably bear a huge bruise there in a few days. It would blend in well with the rest. I was still blotted white and purple after wrestling with Valentina. Bruises took time to heal. I had forgotten about that.

I slipped into my pants, and was just pulling a clean shirt over my head when music started playing. For a moment I stood frozen, a bit puzzled by the sudden sound. Then I remembered how a ringing mobile phone sounded like and reached into my bag.

I had expected it to be aunt Chime with a new technical problem. But I only saw a foreign number displayed on the broken screen.

"Mmm?" I didn't give my name, just indicated I was present and had picked up.

"Timothy?" the voice was pitched low, a male voice.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Ah, perfect. I need a favor returned this morning. Would you mind fetching me a pair of reading glasses and a book? More or less now."

I furrowed my brow, confused. "Excuse me?"

"You owe me a witch's debt, Timothy dear."

"He-hellebore?" I stuttered, absolutely stunned. "Glasses? Book? Sure. Like. Yes. Of course." Of course. I owed him. And Hellebore had, absolute, the right to collect his debt whenever it pleased him. As an afterthought I added: "No, wait. You need reading glasses and a book? You are blind."

His eyes, golden in the dimly lit kitchen. The irises had seemed huge without the black dots of pupils. I had seen them when my own had still been red. There was no doubt in my mind. Hellebore was truly without the ability to see anything.

"Yes," Hellebore said in a tone meant for explaining something simple to a three years old. "So I need reading glasses."

A pause issued.

"Oh." He needed glasses that read. "Right."

"My own happened to fall in a rather unfortunate accident this morning and I haven't been able to read even the simplest recipe. I run a tea room. I really need to be able to get the recipes right." He sighed to the phone. "And Catnip is on holidays for the week. So there is no one to read to me, except Marquise of course. But interpreting her is inconvenient."

I heard barking. Apparently Marquise disagreed.

In a moment I had two addresses in a text message. I shouldered the gym bag, hoping I had taken a backpack instead, and made it out into the windy day.

Harsh northen gale attacked the nape of my neck where shower wet hair met sensitive skin.

I didn't like the city's center as a general rule. The human masses and noisy vehicles made most vampires a bit nervous. But there was a very old part of the city, near to the center, where cars weren't really allowed. It was a very nice part of the city, of old wooden houses and small craft shops of handmade goods. The streets were of cobblestones and the air was filled with smoke rising from the chimneys here and there.

It was very cozy. And basically owned by old witch families. Vampires weren't welcome but tolerated.

I had been to this witch town a few times. It had its charm. But when I slipped to the cobble stoned street from one of the city's main avenues, I still felt nervous. Warmer air greeted me, as I crossed the invisible barrier between the witch town and the citycenter. I tried to appear relaxed, even knowing that every single person I saw was a witch. And there were so many out.

People were different than in the main streets. Everyone knew each other. They talked, smiled at each other and greeted each other as they passed. And the city's ticking hard pressed rhythm had stopped. In stead of the incessant traffic, I heard the rustle of leaves, wind chimes and people walking, their shoes clapping against the uneven stone surface. The witches' time ran differently from the human time. No one around me seemed in any kind of a hurry. They had time to stop and talk, and look at goods displayed on windows.

Laughter was everywhere. And magic. In many windows small objects were set to float. I saw a man land on a broom. Two kids played with a flying wooden bird. In a small stall set on the street a gentleman sold dried herbs for potions and on a bench a woman was enjoying the day reading tarot cards.

I took a breath, enjoying small floating lanterns above my head. There was beauty to the witch town. Everything seemed hand made. Every house was colorful and different. The witches were a crafty lot. And patient: vines hugged every building and roses circled fences. Some still bloomed brightly. Spirits seemed to enjoy this part of the city as well, the air almost hummed with passing shifting shapes.

I took my phone out to consult a map.

"Can I help?"

I lifted my gaze. The question had been asked by a girl, she seemed younger than I was. But she was a witch, so I would be wise not to assume so. She was dressed in long skirts of vivid violet hues and had a garland of leaves on her head. The dress blended in better than my jeans.

"Maybe," I said, pocketing the phone. "I am looking for a place called Shatter Glass?"

She smiled widely. "I'll take you."

People greeted her as we passed the colorful houses and stalls. I felt the eyes following us.

"Have you moved here or just visiting?" She asked.

"I..." I felt tempted to say I was just visiting. I could have even given Clover's name. But the young girl's open attitude and wide smile won her the truth.

"I have lived in Breasinghae most of my life, but I hardly ever come by the Witch Town. I am just paying a favor."

"The witch town," she tasted the name. "You are not a witch, are you?" She sounded curious.

"No, not really. I am just someone who remembers."

She seemed fascinated by this piece of information.

"So you are just a mortal? You have a job in the city and everything?"

"Well, I am still a student. But I have scheduled lectures."

"And how is it?" she asked. "That you can control time? How does it feel? You can set a meeting for next Saturday at a certain time of day and be sure you make it there."

I smiled slightly. "To tell you the truth. It feels mostly stressful. I have to keep many things in my mind all the time. It was easier when..." I let my voice trail off. It was easier when I had been a vampire, with little scheduled and superhuman speed to dash to the few meetings I had.

"I just have my rhythm," the girl was saying. "I wake up in the morning when I do, and go to school when I am ready. Sometimes I just end up crafting ceremonial candles. I have even been to the city a few times, I don't have any money, but sometimes I go to my cousin to trade some of the candles and pass on grandmother's messages..."

We stopped in front of a blue house with some flowers growing in vases by the door.

A small sign was suspended in the air by the door. Shatter Glass.

I thanked the girl. She smiled.

I was climbing a small stone step, when it suddenly hit me. Clover's father had made the glasses she wore. If there was an eyeglass maker in the witch town, couldn't that be the same person?

I drew the door out and stepped into a light room. It was a small living room, or maybe a waiting room. It seemed proper to seat myself on a delicate white coach.

I wondered if I should make some kind of a sound to announce my arrival. I search the room with my gaze for a bell.

I wasn't even sure if there was someone inside. I closed my eyes and tried to feel the house with my senses that were a bit more than a mortal should have had. I felt nothing. Well, there was a house spirit I felt humming faintly, but I felt no human presence inside.

"How can I help you young friend?"

A startled shriek escaped my lips as I flew my eyes open. There was no presence where the voice had come from.

I whipped my head around sharply, expecting to see a floating charmed artifact more or less where the sound had come from.

Instead, I saw a man. He wore a long coat that seemed faintly familiar. And his face had something familiar in it as well. He was tall and lean, maybe in his forties. But I could make out the painting behind him, hanging on the wall. He wasn't opaque.

I knew I stared.

"I see you didn't expect a ghost," he offered. He had a very patient, kind smile. "I am extremely sorry for startling you like this."

"A... a ghost?" I was still staring. The specter had no presence I could sense.

"A ghost," he repeated. "We aren't common, but you are overreacting. Are you well?"

"What..." I caught myself. "Would it be absolutely rude of me to ask you what a ghost is?"

I felt the need to explain myself: "I am afraid I can't feel any aura from you. It feels a bit... creepy?"

He looked at me thoughtfully.

"Well. A ghost," he started, "is a kind of a strong memory left after a powerful witch has passed away. Sometimes that memory is formed by a spell in the shape of the deceased and can effectively go by their everyday as if they still were alive. It can't touch anything though. But it can talk and work as a mentor for those still among the living."

"So you... I mean... the glasses you make aren't made by... you?" 

I was a bit pacified by the explanation, it could explain, to a point, the thing in front of my eyes.

"No. I don't do the crafting myself anymore. But my apprentices are very good at what they do. So please, tell me what I can do for you?"

I drew in a breath. "Hellebore sent me to collect for him reading glasses."

A shadow passed his see-through features. "You were sent by the alchemist." The tone was disappointed.

I shrugged.

He sighed. "I would advise against keeping his company. Hellebore is a dangerous god to have around. But sure. I have glasses for him, even as it seems to me he breaks a pair every other year."

He showed me into another room, a small storage room holding glasses on shelves. He tapped a pair soundlessly with his finger. As the moment stretched and he looked at me meaningfully, I suddenly remembered this ghost couldn't touch anything.

I took the pair from the shelf. They were a beautiful pair of glasses, with the golden frame made to resemble intertwined vines with tiny golden leaves. Like Clover's glasses. Even when Clover's were plainer, and silvery.

I lifted my face to the man. He wore a frown.

I had thought to ask if he had made Clover's glasses, but I felt I had somehow unintendedly overstepped his kindness.

So instead I asked: "What do you mean, when you say Hellebore is a god?"

His face softened. The ghost invited me to sit with it on the floor in the storage.

"Hellebore," he said. "Is an immortal man that breaks rules. And I don't talk about human made rules. I talk about the very fabric of life. He makes truly impossible things."

"Says the ghost," I muttered.

The ghost smiled. "Yes. Think about that, if a witch's ghost says the man is impossible. He is a god who likes to pretend to be human. But don't be fooled. It's a god you are taking those glasses to."

I turned the golden pieces in my hand. "It actually fits him," I said. "If someone must be called a god, I think he is a good candidate." I smiled to myself. After all, he had made a vampire almost human.

The ghost heaved out a sigh. "If you can, you should keep your distance. As I said, Hellebore as a friend is a dangerous thing to have."

I shook my head. "We aren't really friends. I kind of owe him. And not little."

"Oh." He looked surprised. "How old are you?"

"It's been twenty four years since I was born. Or one. Depends a bit on how you count. Hellebore was involved the second time."

Silence met this statement. It was the ghost's turn to stare. And my turn to smile. It was nice, sitting with this strange ghost on the storage room floor. I felt I could say anything, and then walk back to the real world, never seeing him again.

"Do you want something, tea, or anything?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I think I need to continue. The god wants a book too. I better fetch it, so he won't take my head back."

The ghost rose with me.

"I am called Valerian. Valerian Shatter Hat. You are welcomed to come chat any time you'd like to."

"I am called Timothy. I am not a witch."

"Timothy Notawitch. It was pleasant to make your acquaintance."

I stopped on my way out.

"Can you actually feel?" I asked.

Mister Shatter Hat simply smiled. "I act as if I could. And you treat me like a human. What would you do with the answer?"

With those words I left. To find a book for a blind man.

Clover

I disliked the Witch Town. The Great Star, for the compelling five pointed shape it occupied on the city's map. I was supposed to call it that, the Great Star. And I did. Every time I referred to it aloud.

But in my mind it would be the Witch Town. I had once heard a vampire call it that. She had had disdain in her voice, as if the place were filthy. Which of course it wasn't. But I could understand the sentiment.

The Witch Town was a place outside of the human world and time, and some of its inhabitants never set foot on non-magical territory. If they left the Town, they would pick a broom and fly to the next. Looking down at the gray, growing city with noisy streets, and packed busy crowds bowing to the ticking clock and numbers on dark screens they couldn't comprehend.

The witches of the Witch Town thought normal mortal humans were below them. It was an easy sentiment to understand, with their colorful, carefully cared for houses and careless careful living here where magic was everywhere and people could craft magic into objects, crops, heat and light.

And those that didn't succeed in this environment didn't stay to complain. Like my mother hadn't stayed. She had felt the pull of the city and had gone to live with the city's general population. I had never lived in the Great Star. From a young age I had learned to survive with the mortals and the ticking clock. And the numbers that dictated the lives of the people in the city. It was called money. Even when it was just a number on a screen. But there was no way of blessing it bigger. There was just Hellebore that dealt in many currencies.

I turned heads as I went. The witches' community wasn't huge. Everyone knew who I was. Everyone knew my father and everyone knew my mother.

"Found your way back, eh?" Old Juniper greeted me. He had been reading Tarots on a bench.

I just smiled and waved at him. I knew Juniper didn't mean to be mean.

Yet I still felt hollow as I yanked open the Shatter Glass's front door and stepped inside a light livingroom. And it was a livingroom. I had played here by the empty hearth when I had been little and mother had brought me to meet dad. When he had been alive.

I sat on the couch.

A ghost was a curious piece of magic. I understood why it was. I had never missed my father in the way a human would. But then again...

I stared at the hearth. It was bizarre. When Valerian Shatter Hat had died, his ghost had come to me the very next day. It had told me it had a pair of glasses it wanted to give me. I had been fifteen.

I sighed. It was cruel of my father. Everyone else in the witches' community were simply happy such a talented magician had had a ghost prepared for backup. He had yet so much to teach for the young. And so many old friends that wouldn't now miss him quite so.

But the glasses played a trick on me. Through them every being with a soul had a brightness to them I couldn't see in my father's ghost. Even Plume the vampire had it, though I wouldn't ever tell the vampire I saw it any more living than a teapot. But the ghost didn't have the light. My father had made sure his child wouldn't be deceived by appearances.

There came no sound, no warning, as what was left of Valerian Shatter Hat glided into my view. It wore a happy, content smile at seeing me.

"What a pleasure! Do you take tea?"

I smiled back up at the apparition.

"I'd love some."

As I followed the ghost to a kitchen, I asked: "Did someone come by today who didn't stay to chat ?"

"Mm. Hellebore has found himself a new courier. Apparently the man himself dropped another pair. I keep a dozen pairs stocked for the great alchemist. The boy who came seemed a bit lost and in a hurry. Seemed nice though. Neck deep in debt it seems. But nice."

I just nodded and filled a pot with water. It started boiling immediately with no need for any external heat source. I added some herbs from a closet. There was nothing else there, simply glass jars filled with dried leaves.

"So, my daughter, what brings you here today?" Its voice was kind. My father had never been a cruel man, and the ghost knew I disliked its presence.

I filled two cups as I thought about where to start. For some unknown reason it was polite to pour for a ghost too, even when it couldn't enjoy the offering. Because that was what the filled cup represented, an offering to the lost soul of a loved one.

"I think," I said as I brought the cups to the kitchen table and seated myself opposite my father's ghost, "that I came for counseling."

"Intriguing..." The ghost leaned forward, curling its transparent fingers around the steaming cup. "I know you hold my brother in a higher esteem than me," it mused. "So I would bet my head that this is about something concerning Aconite then?"

I nodded.

It gestured for me to continue.

I didn't trust the ghost. And that had nothing to do with it being a ghost. I hadn't really trusted my father any better with secrets. But I knew its intentions were in my favor, and there was no one who knew Aconite Shatter Hat better than his brother, dead or not.

"Aconite has been helping me with something," I started, unsure.

I didn't know how to continue. I tried again:

"I was going to ask something of him. But I bumped into a vampire on my way to his office. It seemed like Aconite was friends with it. I don't quite understand how that is possible."

"Ah. I see." The ghost flashed a sad smile. There was resignation in its voice as it continued: "There is a secret there that isn't mine to share. You should ask your uncle for an explanation for that one."

I sighed and took a sip.

"Couldn't you at least tell me if I can trust him? It is very curious. I thought he had told something to Fern from me. But since Fern hasn't talked to mother about it in turn... I am not sure what to do. If Aconite has a good reason not to talk to the city elder, I probably should keep my own mouth shut. But if... if Aconite..."

I looked at the ghost. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to burden my mother. And I knew she would turn to Fern immediately. It was as good as going to the elder myself. And maybe there was an explanation that eluded my comprehension. Maybe Aconite had a very good reason for not telling of this demon to the witches. Maybe the vampires knew more...

But I knew the vampires knew more. Timothy knew something about the demon in Lavender. I was sure that was why he had been silenced. And it would make sense that was also the reason for why Valentina had fallen prey to them.

Transparent fingers reached my hand. The ghost didn't push them through my own, but rested its hand on mine. I didn't feel anything. But the gesture in itself was warm.

"I suggest you talk to Aconite."

I looked into the eyes of my father.

"Aconite is in many ways a cursed idiot, for all his magical talent. But he loves you, Clover. You are his nephew. Even more than you have ever been my daughter. Talk it through. I trust you can find a way onward together."

I nodded. Words had stuck in my throat like stones.

The ghost smiled compassionately.

"Go fix it. You two who are still alive."

Julia

The whole city felt foreign. I had last been in the capital of Atlantis somewhere halfway through the last century. The only places that seemed stable were the very old parts of the city center and the Witch Town. Even when every building around it had shed their skins and changed into tall stony towers with glass facades. The town itself was still itself.

I would have rather gone and found the vampires. But Mo had always been shifty. I couldn't have located her and her nest. It could have been anywhere in the city or even outside the city in one of the neighboring towns. For that I needed Hellebore. And I didn't feel like meeting with Hellebore this fine autumn's day. I wanted to see with my own eyes, if I could find someone I had known. Or if all were dead. I wanted to feel my way. And not lean onto the blind alchemist. Last time, I had woken up close to him. This time I hadn't. This time I had been free to choose where I would go.

I had walked. There had been signs with familiar names. Streets that were the same, even when they looked foreign. Everything was covered with smooth layers of asphalt. Everything was made of glass and stone and metal. And there were cars. In one street more than I had seen in a long lifetime. They made the whole city hum and formed a noisy background, as if I had walked by a waterfall.

So I felt almost relieved as I crossed the invisible barrier to the Witch Town and the chaos gave way to people talking and going about their days. I breathed in air mixed with incense smoke and the fragrance of late autumn roses. Then I concentrated on walking on again.

I experienced a mild surprise as no one approached me, a foreigner in the Town. As I remembered, usually there were witches keeping an eye out for the entrances. Mostly for a stray vampire that might wander in for business. Someone to guide the ones that didn't belong to where-ever they were headed as quickly as possible. And then out again as swiftly as could be called polite.

Yet no one approached me. Either they saw me as looking witchy enough, or the spy that guarded this entrance was busy elsewhere.

I would start from the Shatter Hats. I was hoping to find the direction of Aconite just asking of whoever was home. I didn't trust Valerian. He had always been conservative and seen me as an enemy. Well. Then again. I had blown up the better part of his kitchen... But only once. I was sure the roots of our misunderstanding lay in the politics, rather than in such small accidents. And that seemed harder to fix than a few shattered kettles.

I just hoped he wouldn't be home.

I stopped by the blue house that had belonged to the Shatter Hat brothers. Once upon a time.

Shatter Glass seemed like the name of a shop, however. Then again. As I stood to think about it, Valerian had maybe once mentioned he wished to open a shop. But maybe the brothers had opened it together?

The door opened. A familiar green hair came to my view.

I stumbled backwards in my haste to put distance between us as a ghost came to the outdoor steps to see the young witch out. I didn't stay to check whether the ghost was someone I knew. I simply fled.

I wanted to find someone I knew. Not someone Lavender knew.

I walked briskly to the opposite direction from the Shatter Hats'. What if Lavender knew other witches that would know she didn't belong in the Great Star? They would know on sight I wasn't who I pretended to be. Why hadn't I thought of this before?

And would I be in trouble if I would be submerged suddenly and Lavender woke up? Any elder who crossed paths with the confused Lavender and saw my eyes would know who and what was in the cover of this delicate human shell. And I knew at least a dozen witches that wouldn't hesitate to poison me on sight and congratulate themselves afterwards for the deed.

Like old Fern Shatter Hat.

Old Fern.

I smiled and nodded to a silver haired old witch whom I recognized. Had I been a witch visiting a foreign city this would have been what I would have done. The old woman stopped. I could see her head turn. I almost felt the frown on my back.

But I didn't stop.

I opened the door to my left as if I had all this while been headed to that specific book shop. I made it quickly deeper into the shop.

I heard the chime of the door behind me.

I went upstairs. It was the only way to disappear.

I took a random book from a shelf. I browsed pages as I walked. What would I say if the elder confronted me?

That I was a witch? From where? The south maybe?

And if I picked a town where she had friends?

A Link maybe then? I was here to get a book for a master. Would Fern know the names of the vampires in the city? I doubted that. Yes. A Link was good.

My name would be... Well. It could even be Lavender.

And my vampire then, the link's owner was...

Someone tapped on my shoulder. I lifted my face with an intentionally confused smile. Which soon turned into genuine surprise.

"Timothy," I greeted the boy.

He looked at me, measuring. Then he opened his mouth with apparent reluctance.

"You wouldn't tell me where you snatched that book, would you? I have spent like an hour in here in search of that specific tome. The shopkeeper wasn't willing to help. She actually went and checked my name in some register I didn't know existed... And my name turned out as a vampire."

"You know vampires?" I asked. As Timothy nodded, I closed the book.

"Good. Listen. I think I am going to need an alibi. There is soon going to come someone looking for me..."

I trailed off as some silvery hair and a lean shopkeeper came to my view from behind the shelves. I arranged on my face a triumphant smile and hoped Timothy would help me out. Otherwise Lavender was in trouble.

"Here, Timothy," I said and handed the book to him. "This is what you were looking for, right?"

I saw the change. The drop. Timothy too arranged his face to correspond to my own emotion.

"Oh! Thank you, Lavender! I am suddenly happy I called you. I feel ashamed for not finding it myself." His voice was simply relieved. There was nothing else in it. Not human, indeed. Hellebore was right, he couldn't be human.

"Good day to you," Fern, the elder said.

Timothy whirled to meet the old witch.

"Oh. Good day. Can I help you with something? Have we done something?"

The witch elder shook her head. She looked straight at Timothy. Her eyes didn't once dart to where I stood, just a step behind my human shield.

"He is in the register as a vampire," the shopkeeper explained.

"And yet," the elder said. "You don't look like a vampire, young friend."

Timothy nodded his acknowledgment. "I am to be treated as if I were, as I understand it. I am as close to one as I can be, without a vampire's body. I can show you Mo's mark, but for that I would need to remove my shirt. You can also surely call the Court? If you give the name Timothy, anyone who picks the call will confirm this."

"Timothy...?" Fern insisted.

"Well..." Timothy seemed a bit awkward. As if the witch had asked something odd. Which she had. "For what it's worth, my human family name is White Torch. The person picking up the call might know it. More likely not though."

"And her?" The elder continued, her eyes finally sliding over to meet mine. I smiled.

"She," Timothy drew the elder's eyes back, "is good at finding things. So I asked her over. Just  a linked human. To Plume."

The elder looked at the young man.

The shopkeeper gave her a phone.

Fern looked at the small black box. She frowned, as if she were surprised of how small it was.

For a small moment I hoped she didn't know how to use it either. But unfortunately, the witch seemed confident as she slid her finger over the thing and it lit up.

"As a proper little vampire," Fern said. "You would of course know by heart the Queen's personal number, wouldn't you? Close as you are."

"And, as a good little vampire," Timothy said in a voice that suddenly lacked all warmth, "I would never give that number to a harassing witch."

A silence issued. Fern wore a slight frown as she poked the box. She lifted it close to her ear.

Suddenly, I became aware of the fact that all other customers had abandoned the shop. There were no other people except me, Timothy and the two witches. And the shopkeeper seemed willing to abandon us any second now.

"My name is Fern Shatter Hat." The elder told the phone. "A man came in, claiming the title of a vampire, what can you tell me of this man named Timothy White Torch. Gray eyes. Brown hair, not especially tall. Not especially short either."

We stood as the call continued. I felt my palms sweating. How had I ended up here? I had just meant to take a little peek. To find a familiar face. Just not the face of Fern Shatter Hat.

"... no. He is definitely breathing, I'd say..."

I didn't want to fight. I wasn't sure any spirits would come to my aid quite yet, and I had no ready made spells on my body.

"...Please forward to whomever you feel has better knowledge of the case..."

If Timothy was what he claimed, he probably knew how to use fists. But I doubted he would ever even touch the elder. I didn't doubt the old woman had at least a dozen little charms on her to stop any physical attacks. And at least double the amount to ward off evil eye.

Eventually the call ended.

Fern gave the phone back to its owner.

"My apologies," she said directly to Timothy. "My nerves seem to be affected by old age. Though, one curious vampire you are, mister Timothy."

Timothy nodded. He turned his head.

"I think I will be leaving." He lifted the book. "This is for Hellebore, please send the bill, or whatever, to him."

Well, if that didn't explain the coincidence of meeting him. I smiled wryly to myself. Trust the alchemist to get you curious meetings.

Timothy made to leave. Fern however lay a hand to his arm. Timothy flinched.

Surprise flashed through the old woman's face. She took away her hand.

"I would invite you to take anything in the Great Star, and it will be on me. As payment for the trouble I have caused."

For a moment, Timothy met the old woman's gaze. I read anger in his features. I wondered if the sentiment was faked.

"I would love to leave you indebted to me," Timothy said. "But I really don't think I will have the luxury of time to call in that debt. So, I will take then... this." He snatched a book from the nearest shelf without looking.

"Thank you. Whatever debt you might have felt hanging over your head is now justly settled."

Timothy glanced back at me. "Let's go, Lavender."

He took me straight out the Town, glancing back every now and then to make sure I was still following. I grimaced as we crossed over the enchantments to the city proper and the constant humm hit me like a physical wave. Suddenly everything was busy.

I had never liked cars, really.

Timothy took me to a glass box. I supposed it was a tram stop, based on what I had seen previously that day, and the trail that went by it. Despite the busy traffic all around us, we stood alone at the stop.

"Would you now tell me who you are?" he asked.

I considered the request. "You don't know yet?" I asked.

He snorted. Then laughed lightly, apparently for a thought that had passed by his head. I would have loved to know what it had been.

"No. I don't," he admitted easily and without further detailing. "I don't know anything else about you other than that Mo seems to be protecting you. Which, by the way, has landed me in quite the trouble. Still, I trust her evaluation of your worth. Despite the fact that you are kind of possessing a friend of mine."

"I am not really possessing her."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Aren't you?" He eyed me meaningfully up and down.

The wagon came and we stepped in. I marveled at the fabric covered seats. Everything was very harmonious and nice. Except for the flashing screen at one corner that drew my attention immediately.

"Are those advertisements?" I asked Timothy.

He was looking at me thoughtfully.

"Who are you?" he repeated. "Or even what?"

"What are you?" I countered.

He sighed. "Dead. I think I am dead."

"Somewhat morbid an answer that one, don't you think?"

He shrugged. And simply watched out the window.

I softened.

"You could call me Julia," I offered, pronouncing my name the Spanish way. "It's not the name most people know me by, but it is the name that was given to me when I was first born into this world."

Timothy nodded. He even smiled a bit. I smiled too.

"That's a start, Julia. I can't say I am exactly pleased to meet you, given the circumstances, but I am happy to have a name for you anyways."

"Now, would you tell me why you are dead?" I asked.