It was rare for Zinobia to dress up and socialise, much less with the upper echelon of society. However, the sight of herself in the mirror made a convincing argument for why she should. Black velvet hugged her form and gold embellishments winked under the fluorescent shop lights as she twisted this way and that. She felt absolutely regal.

No. Godly.

She stepped from behind the screen and met Archie, the shop owner, slipping the other dresses she'd tried back onto their hangers. "I believe this is the one."

He looked up and gave a single approving nod, lips tipping up into a smile—man of few words as always. He was lean and wiry, with round glasses over his dark eyes. Zinobia had thought him rude at first, but later learned that he wasn't one to waste words. And his work spoke for itself.

"It's mostly comfortable," Zinobia explained, "but I think I could use more space in the hips."

Archie nodded again and pulled a pen and pad from his top pocket.

"Oh, I love that one," Vittoria said, peeking around her own screen. She'd chosen something green and sequenced. It contrasted well with her rosy undertones and made her eyes pop.

"So do I." Zinobia smoothed her hands down the front of the dress. "We should head up front. Unless there's anything else you'd like to try."

Vittoria gathered up her skirts. "No, I love this one. I'd wear it around the house if I could."

Zinobia breathed a laugh as she slipped behind the screen to change out of her own dress. She could certainly relate. It was refreshing to put on something form-fitting and sparkly and just... feel pretty, especially after dealing with so much ugliness. She gathered the dress lovingly in her arms and met Vittoria up front.

Archie's sewing shop had been one of her favourite places to patronise since moving to Aldemore. Though she rarely found any reason to come there beyond getting her pants and coats repaired. Zinobia found Vittoria chatting up Juliet, the shop owner's daughter, her dress draped over her arm.

"Doctor Baxter, your coats are ready." Julie drifted behind the counter and pulled out a bag sealed shut with a sticker. "As for the dresses, we'll make any needed adjustments and you can pick them up tomorrow."

"Thank you." Zinobia squared off her debt, and they were off to the next store.

The sidewalks of the city centre were buzzing with mid-Saturday activity. People wandered in and out of the shops and cafes, mouths going and arms swinging with the weight of their spoils. The scents of coffee and pastries wafted from Caulder Cafe. Laughter and music erupted from Jonah's pub, and a cat lazed in the bookshop's window.

Shouts of vendors from the farmer's markets touched every corner of the main square and every hour, a whistle blared from the train station. At the square's centre stood a statue of a young girl holding a pot filled with live hydrangea and blue iris vines that cascaded down to her feet. The Garden Girl, everyone called her. She stood facing the train station to welcome all visitors to Aldemore.

On the east side of the square, near the train station, was Monroe's jewels—the only local jeweller. There were rumours that he sourced his metal and gems from less ethical suppliers. Yet, there was no such thing as ethically sourced gems and metals. He often made house calls to those on the garden walk, and while Zinobia could probably afford it, she wasn't that pretentious and had two working feet.

A bell rang above their heads as Zinobia and Vittoria stepped into the shop. Its familiar perfumy scent enveloped her like fog. Glass cases displaying rings, watches, chains and the like lined the floor, lit up by the fluorescent overhead lights. Only one other person stood in the shop, admiring the display near the register.

Monroe came from a door behind, carrying a velvet box. "Here you are, sir. Got the hands reattached and swapped out the battery."

"Ah, thank you Munroe." The gentleman accepted the box and tipped his hat at them as he walked out.

"Now there's a face I have seen in a while," Munroe teased. "Come, come, Doctor Baxter. What can I do for you today?" Charismatic as always, he gestured at the boxes of bracelets. "I take it you'll be attending Lord Ashbourne's party?"

Zinobia arched a brow. "How'd you know?"

"The whole town has been buzzing about it since last week. I heard it's quite the exclusive affair. Small guest list. I imagine he doesn't want the media and loose-lipped socialites overrunning his estate, especially considering how long he's kept to himself."

"Ah." Of course Munroe kept up with the village gossip too. "Yes, Vittoria and I will be attending. I'd like a necklace, and what did you want, Vittoria?"

Vittoria shrugged a shoulder. "I already have earrings I like at home."

"Perhaps a bracelet, then? I just got a shipment in from—"

A crash from outside the door cut into his words, and they all startled. Please no, Zinobia begged silently. Just one quiet day in town was all she wanted. A chorus of screams erupted from the market. Through the glass storefront, she saw a man launch a dumpster into the garden girl. It exploded on impact, sending paper, food remnants, and glass flying every which way.

Zinobia had half a mind to leave it to the police, especially since Josiah wasn't with her. But that changed when a second screamer emerged from the alleyway next to the farmer's market, swinging a crowbar wildly.

She passed off her bag of lab coats off to Vittoria. "Stay here. Keep to the back of the shop, away from the glass."

"I... are you sure?" Vittoria asked, her brows knitted with worry.

"I'll be fine, I promise." Zinobia pushed her way out of the store and into the rush of people fleeing the square. The crowbar demon was chasing a group trying to take shelter in the cafe. Zinobia flooded her body with her own magic. As the demon swung at a small child, she slipped in between them, pushed the child to safety with one hand and caught the crowbar with the other.

The blow rattled her body from her palm down to the soles of her feet. "Go, get out of here," she told the people. The moment they jogged away, she spotted a giant stone pot fill with hydrangea and irises sailing towards her. She leapt out of the way as the pot hit the pavement. Dirt and shards of glass buffeted her, and she stumbled back into the cafe's chalk display. The wood buckled beneath her and a sharp pain bloomed in her side.

Zinobia, what's happening? Josiah's voice filled her head.

Screamers. Two. In town. She blinked the dust from her eyes and saw the demon scrambling towards her, crowbar cranked behind its head, eyes wild and long hair matted to her face.

It closed the distance so fast, Zinobia didn't have enough time to get her hands up. She had to take the blow and hope her magic fortified her enough that it wouldn't crack her skull open.

But as the crowbar came down, a bat connected with the side of the demon's head with a metallic clang. It fell beside her, lip and unmoving. And clutching said bat in a white-knuckled grip was James. His shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths, and sweat plastered his curls to his forehead.

"Are you okay, Doctor Baxter?" he asked.

She brushed an errant leaf from her blouse. "I'll live."

"Here." He offered her a hand up. "I'm sure someone's already called the police. We should—"

Zinobia pushed James out of the way as another trash can came sailing across the square. It flew between them and crashed into the window of Caulder's Cafe. Screams mixed with breaking glass and buckling metal.

What can I do? Josiah asked.

Nothing from where you are. Zinobia took the crowbar from the unconscious demon's hand. I have my own magic. I can handle it.

The demon stared her down from across the square, eyes glazed over, quick breaths clouding the air in front of its face. It couldn't go much longer like that. When demons got worked up, they released so much magic, and while it gave the benefit of strength and speed, it came with the drawback of working a human beyond its limit. Their heart beat so fast, too fast, until it burst. Their body temperature rose so high that they became delirious.

Zinobia didn't have to incapacitate them. She just had to outlast them.

"Hey! Stop!"

Or maybe not.

A group of police came down the street by the train station and converged on the demon, guns drawn. Zinobia dropped the crowbar and turned away. She already knew how this would end. She only hoped the parents had sense enough to make their little ones turn away. More shouting ensued, followed by a scream and three consecutive gunshots.

Zinobia exhaled a long breath and massaged her still tingling hand. "Are you alright, James?"

The boy dusted the dirt from his pants and nodded. "Was Vittoria with you? Is she alright?"

"Vittoria's fine." She started across the square, being mindful to give the police a wide berth.

The garden girl stood armless and potless, soggy newspaper draped over her shoulder and old spaghetti on her head. Garbage and broken glass littered the square, and clusters of fearful people looked out from behind shop windows.

Before now, the screamer problem had been mostly contained. Usually, a small snippet in the corner of the daily was all the exposure the general public had to the problem. But now, on a bustling Saturday afternoon, in the heart of town, the screamers had grown from a mere nuisance to a threat to public safety.

Vittoria emerged from Munroes as Zinobia approached. "Mother, are you..." A hand flew to her mouth. "You're bleeding."

For the first time, Zinobia noticed the tear in her blouse and angry, red slash on her side. "It's just a scratch. I'll take care of it."

She didn't seem convinced, but quickly got distracted by something over Zinobia's shoulder. "James? What are you doing here?"

"He helped," Zinobia said before James could speak. "One might even say he saved my skin." She looked at him over her shoulder and he'd gone beet red. "Thank you, James."