Marcie was late.

She was going to have to get to this birthday party quickly, and then back to the college just as quickly, since she had a paper she could not afford to have late. She sped down the road, taking sharp turns around curves and altogether ignoring traffic laws. All she wanted to do was go to college, and now that she was, she found she had to pay for it all by herself. Between her dead end job at the copier store and doing magic, she made it work, but it was barely enough to squeak by. As she turned, she realized she might've forgotten her deck of cards, and swore at the top of her lungs before beginning to dig around in the bag on the passenger seat. She didn't even see the minivan in front of her. When Marcie awoke, she was in a hospital bed.

Things were never the same after that.

She had to drop out of school altogether to recooperate and move back home, much to both her and her parents disappointment. After a few months of being on pain medication and doing physical therapy, Marcie finally became fed up with her parents, packed a rental car and split. She didn't know where to go, all she knew was that she didn't want to be here. She could remember a birthday party where she'd met a little girl who'd asked her where she could do magic professionally, and Marcie had told her maybe Vegas, so, she thought, maybe Vegas was the place to go.

It seems to be where everyone who doesn't belong anywhere else winds up.

                                                                                 ***

"May I ask, and you don't have to answer but I am curious, why you have a genie outfit in your closet?" Effie asked while standing in Allie's penthouse while Allie watered her plants.

"Because of an act I once did," Allie said, "but, uh, turns out it didn't work out the way I wanted it to, so now it just sits there as an occasional Halloween costume, or, ya know, something for a special evening."

"Hot," Effie said, making Allie smirk; Effie shut the closet door and turned to Allie, "so," she started, "why did you ask me to hang out and not Nick?"

"Nick has work today," Allie said, "Besides, we don't do enough things together."

"This counts as doing something? Jesus your bar is low," Effie said.

"You're the one capable of meeting it."

"Okay, ow," Effie replied, "Guess I deserved that."

Effie pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her shirt pocket and hit the bottom a few times before sliding one out and then lighting it, putting it between her lips.

"You don't mind do you?" she asked.

"Usually people ask before they start smoking it," Allie said.

"Well, I'm always different," Effie said.

Allie set her bright red watering can down on the dresser where her plants were sitting atop and looked around the penthouse. It felt like she didn't spend much time here anymore, what with all the time she seemed to spend at Nick's now, and she started feeling weird about even still having her own place. Maybe she should ask Nick to move in with her, but then again if something didn't work out, he'd no longer have an apartment, and that wouldn't be fair to him. Allie sighed and put her hands on her hips, looking around.

"...fuck, what time is it?" she asked, checking her watch.

"Why did you ask that if you had a watch?" Effie asked.

"I was supposed to pick up a piece of equipment for a show," Allie said, "Can you hang here until I get back? I'll buy you dinner later."

"Ooh, and I don't even have to sleep with you? Fancy," Effie said, the both of them laughing as Allie grabbed her windbreaker from the hanger by the door and pulled it on. She said she'd be back in less than an hour, and then headed out of the penthouse. She found her way downstairs to the parking garage, climbed into her car and pulled out, driving to the prop store she got all her equipment from. Allie parked, and headed into the store, to find it - as usual - mostly empty. She strolled down an aisle, looking for even a single person who worked there, before turning around a corner and bumping into someone.

"Jesus, sorry," she quickly apologized, before realizing who it was, "...Marcie?"

"...yes?" Marcie asked, looking at Allie in confusion, "Do I know you?"

                                                                              ***

After that birthday party, Allie was enamored with the idea of magic.

For her next birthday, she begged for a magic kit, which her mothers brother bought for her. She spent the remainder of her adolescence in her bedroom, perfecting her magic act. She always wanted to see The Marvelous Marcie again, but she never wound up going to another birthday party - or any party really - that required a magician, and she couldn't find her in any of the phonebooks thanks to not having her last name. All she had to remember her by was the cape Marcie had given her at the party. When Allie moved to Vegas with her cousin, she picked a stagename reminiscent of Marcie's, because she figured that was what you did. She didn't have anything else to guide her besides the magic kit, which didn't even really cover the topic of names.

But, in the back of her mind, Allie had always hoped that one day she would meet The Marvelous Marcie once again. Who would've guessed that she would, in a magic shop of all places?

                                                                                ***

Zoe groaned as she rolled over and saw Molly picking up laundry from the floor. She sat up on her elbows and pushed her bushy hair from her face, one eye squinting at her, the other still shut. Molly glanced over and smiled at her.

"You don't have to do my laundry," Zoe said.

"You're a guest in my house," Molly said, "I also made lunch, if you're hungry."

"Wow, you're a really nice hostess."

"Well," Molly said, standing up with a pile of clothes in her arms now, "I...I don't get many visitors, so I guess I'm kind of grateful for the company."

Molly turned and exited the room as Zoe climbed out of bed. Zoe took a shower, got dressed and then headed to the kitchen, where she found a plate of french toast and a cup of coffee sitting on the table for her. Zoe sat down as she watched Molly back and forth between the kitchen and the laundry room, putting load after load into the machine before starting it and joining her at the table.

"So," Molly said, "Any idea of whether or not you'll see your folks?"

"I probably have to at some point, but I'd rather it be on my terms," Zoe said, "You know what I mean? I wanna be prepared."

"I understand," Molly said, "there's nothing worse than people dropping by unannounced."

Zoe raised an eyebrow, making Molly become flustered.

"Not...not you! Oh, that sounded bad, I'm sorry. No. I meant more like family, but you dropping by unannounced was fine, and I like having you here," Molly said, "I'm sorry, that came off wrong."

"It's fine," Zoe said, laughing as she cut into her french toast, "I know you like having me here, you made me breakfast after all."

"Actually I made me breakfast, I just happened to make too much," Molly said, smiling.

                                                                               ***

"I can't believe you're in Vegas," Allie said, "I can't believe we've never run into eachother."

"I can't believe the prices here," Marcie whispered, making Allie laugh loudly; Marcie smiled and added, "So, I guess you took my advice after all, from what you've told me. How's it worked out for you?"

"Well, I currently have a long standing contract with The Card Shark, and its new location specifically, as the headlining act and I live in a penthouse suite free of charge, so I'd say it's worked out pretty goddamn well honestly. You, on the other hand, look like you'd disagree."

"I was going to college for a real career," Marcie mumbled as she slid a set of brass rings back onto the hook, "but I had to keep working because of a falling out with my folks, then I got into a nasty accident so I just gave up after living with them a while, packed my shit and left. Vegas has always been a comforting and welcoming place for transients and rejects."

"Can't argue there," Allie said, nodding in agreement, "and business is good now or?"

"It is what it is," Marcie said, "I never really wanted to do magic for a living, but if it's what I'm good at, if it pays the bills, then I suppose I can't argue. But it was always a hobby more than a career goal. Not to besmirch you or anyone else who actively chose and pursued it that way. I just..." Marcie hesitated, picking up a small fake coin from a bin and turning it over in her hand, "...I guess I never really considered what my actions might lead to. I was always a very selfish person, Allie. I lived in the moment. Instant gratification. I never thought that the things I did might lead to worse things down the road."

"...jeez, you really can bring down a mood," Allie said, "Is that a magic trick you had to learn, or you just inherently a bummer?"

Marcie snickered, which made Allie smile. The girls didn't have much, but at least they had this conversation, which was all Marcie needed right now. Allie, on the other hand, should've been listening closer. She might've heard the way her own future was about to go down.

                                                                               ***

"God it smells so good in here," Agent Siskel said, entering and sniffing the air of Sunny's apartment, Agent Tropper right behind her.

"Usually drug dens are heinous, vile places, but this actually manages to be cozy, like a den. Gotta give him credit to that," Agent Tropper replied, walking further in and looking at Sunny's belongings; he noticed a photo of Sunny and a woman together somewhere at a casino, and then asked, "...so what exactly is it we're looking for here?"

"Any kind of record or book keeping, receipts of any kind. Anything that might lead to a list of people he supplied," Agent Siskel said, "Especially if it implicates Claire. Any further evidence we can attain to corroborate her claims or refute them is good by my book."

"You mean you believe her?" Agent Tropper asked, turning to face her.

Agent Siskel sighed and pushed her bangs from her eyes, putting her hands on her hips, "I don't know, man, I just know that people with drug problems shouldn't be explicitly considered villainous, and that sometimes, people who go off their meds do things they wouldn't otherwise do. Combine those two and you've got an intricate situation which risks falling apart and hurting many people on the way down. Claire did what she did. There's no denying that. Whether she wanted to or not is the question. I...I've dealt with a lot of mental illness in my family Roger, and honestly I can't say that some part of me doesn't see her telling the truth."

"Wow, that's...that's very admirable of you," Agent Tropper said as he started to open up drawers on a table, "I'm just surprised I guess. Usually people in our line of work wanna pin people to the wall no matter what it takes, but you're actually capable of having a moral compass."

"Well, I am a woman, so," Agent Siskel said, making Tropper chuckle.

"I just don't understand why someone would kill a guy like this," Agent Tropper said, "I mean look at his place. It's spotless. It's...it's as clean as someone who works a 9 to 5 office job. He was supplying a woman with medication to help control her violent tendencies. This guy was clearly not your run of the mill everyday average drug dealer. So...what leads someone to kill someone like that? I mean, I know murder is random, and it can just happen, but it doesn't really make sense when it happens to someone who doesn't fit the mold you expect them to in this line of work."

"Self defense, maybe? Perhaps he got handsy with a female customer? I don't know," Agent Siskel said, pulling a book off a shelf and opening it, as an envelope fell out and onto the floor. She and Agent Tropper exchanged a look and she bent down to pick it up but he got to it first.

"Oooh, too slow," he said.

"Come on, I found it, let me open it," Agent Siskel said, grabbing for it but he quickly pulled it away from her, grinning; she furrowed her brow and stomped her foot, "Give it back or I'm gonna tell on you!"

The two started laughing as they fought playfully over the envelope, until finally he gave it to Siskel. She opened it and carefully pulled out a small black book along with a photo and a few folded papers. Agent Tropper took the photo and glanced at it.

"Huh," he said, "this woman is in this photo over here too," he said, pointing at the framed picture he'd seen when coming in, "...she's clearly important to him. If we could find out who she is, perhaps..."

"Oh my god," Agent Siskel whispered, as Agent Tropper turned back to her.

"What? What is is Rebecca?"

"...holy fucking shit," said whispered, flipping through the small black book, "...this guy wasn't just a drug dealer. He was laundering money..."

She stopped, looking at Agent Tropper and grinning.

"...through casinos."

                                                                            ***

Allie and Marcie were standing outside the magic shop, Allie having paid for Marcie's purchases simply to be nice and spread the wealth. Each standing near their respective cars as Allie waited for her prop to be loaded onto the roof of hers, Marcie couldn't help but feel an odd combination of gracious and disgusted.

"You can always open for me," Allie said, "For me and my partner, for us. It's been hard to get used to saying us, I was a solo act for so long."

"I appreciate that, but I prefer sticking to dingy clubs," Marcie said.

"Well, you can always contact me if you're interested in just talking, or about work. You know where I am," Allie said, and Marcie smiled, thanked her for her kindness and then climbed into her car. She tucked her cane into the passenger seat, then started the car and began driving to her apartment. When she arrived, she parked and headed upstairs. She unlocked the door and entered the apartment, to find a young high school student washing dishes.

"Oh, you're back," the girl said, glancing over her shoulder at Marcie as she locked the door behind her.

"Yeah, I got some supplies for the gig," Marcie said, "Are you okay?"

"As okay as one can be I guess," the girl said, shrugging.

Marcie walked up to her at the sink and kissed her neck, making the girl blush.

Yes, Marcie Bevel hadn't wanted to be a magician. But then again, there were a lot of things Marcie Bevel hadn't wanted to be. Like a sexual predator.

                                                                             ***

A pipe had busted.

The two men walking in the underneath of the casino, the headlamps on their hardhats turned to full, looked around for where the pipe was. One man had a map Tony had provided him, a map which Molly had given him in case something like this happened, but even still he was having trouble making sense of it. The other man pointed, and the map holding man nodded in agreement.

"Jesus, these places need to start making stuff like this more accessible," he said.

"The fuck," the first man said, shining his headlamp on something, and the map man looked.

There, embedded in the wall behind crumbling concrete, was a prop tomb.

"You don't have any prior work history on your resume," Luna said, "Am I to believe this is actually your first job? That seems a bit odd for a college student."

Chelsea - the young woman being interviewed - stared at Luna. Luna sighed and set the resume down on the desk, then cupped her tentacles on the table.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" she asked, "Is it the tentacles?"

"They don't help," Chelsea said, making Luna chuckle.

"I know that this is weird," she said, "but we don't often get human resumes, that's partially why I wanna take a gamble on you. You seem like a smart young lady, and I wanna help you pay for your education. You only have to work nights, so it won't cut into your school time. I hope we can come to some sort of arrangement. Now tell me, you've never worked before?"

"I used to do chores that I got paid for and one summer I was a lifeguard," Chelsea said, brushing her blonde hair from her eyes.

"Oh yeah? How'd that go?" Luna asked, picking up the resume once again.

"Not great, a kid drowned," Chelsea said, "but that wasn't my fault, for what it's worth. He had asthma, he shouldn't have been swimming to begin with. If anything it's his moms fault really."

A moment of silence passed as neither woman said anything.

"You...you wanna blame the mom of the dead kid? You really wanna go with that?" she asked.

"...I mean, do you have a better excuse?" Chelsea asked.

"Chelsea, there won't be much work here, for what it's worth. We don't get a ton of business, especially at night," Luna said, "so I'm gonna give you the job on a trial basis. Come with me, we need to get you a uniform, and then I'll show you how the job works."

Luna stood up and slithered out of the room, Chelsea right behind her, making sure not to step in her slime trail. As the women headed down the hall of the backroom, going to, Chelsea presumed, the uniform department, Luna kept talking.

"It's a pretty basic job, like any convenience store. You run the register, help customers, keep things clean," she said, "We have a janitor, but you likely won't see him much."

"Why not? He doesn't work nights?"

"No, he's invisible. So if you see a dustpan moving on its own, don't freak out," Luna said.

They finally reached a door, which Luna opened with her tentacles and inside was a blindingly white room with just a single enormous creature of incomprehensible shape. Chelsea followed Luna slowly inside, staying cautiously behind her as they approached the creature.

"I need a uniform for Chelsea here, a size..." Luna said, snapping her fingers.

"Uh, 8," Chelsea said.

"You heard her," Luna said.

The enormous creature nodded, or at least Chelsea thought it did, before grabbing a piece of itself and tearing away from its flesh what was a uniform. It then handed the uniform to Luna, who thanked them as they exited. Back in the hallway, she handed the uniform to Chelsea.

"You can change in our bathroom," Luna said, "I'll meet you at the register when you're done."

"What...what was that?" Chelsea asked.

"That was Todd," Luna said, "He's where all our uniforms come from. He's a creature made entirely of clothing materials that take any shape he wants them to take when he peels them off himself. He's a literal skinsuit."

"His name is Todd?"

"No, but his actual name is something you cannot pronounce," Luna replied.

"Of course it is," Chelsea said, heading to the bathroom.

                                                                            ***

Chelsea Teages had never had a job before because, quite frankly, she'd never needed one. She came from a fairly well off family who agreed to pay for her college if she agreed to get a job to chip in, to teach her responsibility. Chelsea had never really done well with responsibility. When she was 9, they got her a hamster as a pet, and after strapping it into her Barbie Convertible and sending it down the stairs and off a ramp, she realized why they had been so hesitant to get her a pet in the first place. She simply didn't do well when it came to taking care of things.

So working at Last Shop On The Left was her chance to prove herself to her folks, and even to herself to an extent. She'd only found the job offer because a flyer had been taped to a crosswalk light nearby her college dorm, and there was only one application attached, which she thought was odd. She took it, and when she went back the following day, the flyer and the crosswalk light were both gone. So she filled out the paper, sent in the application and then was given detailed directions to the store. Now, standing in this bathroom and admiring herself in her new uniform - which somehow, despite its origins, wasn't slimy or remotely damp in the slightest - Chelsea was feeling good about herself. She'd taken the initiative, and she was going to prove to her folks that she could be responsible.

Just...maybe not in the sort of way they'd expected.

                                                                            ***

"What the hell is that thing?" Chelsea asked, pointing at the machine on the counter.

"This is the register," Luna said.

The register was fleshy and made gurgling noises. Luna pressed a protrusion on it, and it slid open, revealing the money within. Chelsea was, admittedly, disgusted by the register, but she didn't want to make he revulsion that obvious to her new boss, so she kept her mouth shut.

"You got into college so logic dictates you're capable of doing at least basic mathematics," Luna said, "Figuring out how to make change and whatnot shouldn't be that difficult for you. You're also free to eat anything in the store, free of charge. Call it bonus compensation. Can't have you going hungry while you're here."

"Anything?" Chelsea asked, tugging at the collar of her uniform shirt.

"Yes, although I highly recommend you make sure it's safe for humans to eat. There's a lot of stuff in here that's made specifically for interdimensional monsters, so please be careful," Luna said.

"I'll, uh, keep that in mind," Chelsea said, starting to feel somewhat nervous.

"Now, I'm going to take off for a bit. When I get back, I'll assess your work for the night, and we'll talk about future employment," Luna said, "I shouldn't be gone too long. And, for the record, if The Muck comes out, if they try to consume you and make you a part of them, the broom to shoo them off is right there."

And with that Luna exited the store, leaving Chelsea simultaneously confused and terrified.

                                                                           ***

Nothing much happened during Chelsea's shift, much to her relief.

She spent most of the time familiarizing herself with the 'register', and doing some light reorganizing and restocking. She even managed to get into the radio tuner that played over the store speakers and found a channel called MICT, or Music for Interdimensional Creatures of Terror, which played something sort of close to what Chelsea considered music, so she found that most acceptable to her ears. While she was kneeling, pushing bags of what looked like pretzels but were probably tiny edible bones from what Chelsea had learned so far about this place, she heard the bell over the door ring.

"I'll be right with you!" she shouted over her shoulder.

After she finished putting the things on the shelf, she headed back to the front of the store, went around the counter to behind the register and then looked up at the creature standing in front of her. Her polite smile turned to a concerned grimace, but she tried to hide it. The thing standing in front of her was a creature about 7 feet tall with no discernible facial features (or a face, for that matter) and just a single gaping hole in where its face would theoretically be. Chelsea sized this creature up, then bit her lip.

"How can I help you?" she asked.

The creature didn't respond, they merely made a horrifying sound with their mouth hole and Chelsea nodded afterwards. She looked around behind her, then grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the shelf and handed them to the creature. The creature stood there momentarily, then picked them up, stuffed them in their craw, then tossed some money on the counter before exiting. Chelsea carefully picked the money up and put it into the register before exhaling.

Of all the jobs she could've applied to, she thought.

                                                                              ***

Chelsea spent the remainder of her time reading magazines that she didn't really understand, with names like "Splork!" about extreme sports for interdimensional beings. Luna had been right, business at night tended to be rather slow, so she just made sure to keep the place tidy and in check. After a bit, she heard the bell ring again and when she finally looked up, she saw a faceless man in a pinstripe suit standing in front of her at the counter. She was starting to wonder if anyone in this place had a face.

"How can I help you?" she asked.

"How can you help me when you can't even help yourself?" he asked, catching her off guard. She hadn't actually expected him to be able to respond.

"Wh...what?" she asked, flustered.

"I'm kidding," he said, laughing, "I'm just here for a pack of cigars and a bottle of wine."

"You can't go to a liquor store?" Chelsea asked as she turned to get the cigars.

"At this time of night?" he asked, "Please. I know the wine here isn't the best, but it's at least available."

"Would you like to carry these things out, or should I deliver them to your rolls royce?" she asked, smirking, making him snap his long pale slender fingers and point at her.

"You're funny," he said, "Seems like Luna finally found a good fit for this place. Last one wasn't as funny, last one also didn't last long. Got themselves caught up in a robbery."

He lit up the cigar as Chelsea leaned on the counter, curious and grateful to have someone to talk to.

"Really? What'd they take?"

"Their skin," he replied, "And most of their internal organs. Zepids, horrible little creatures. They take anything that isn't nailed down and resell it on the black market for high prices. Mostly dabble in human organs and the like. Personally, I recommend you buy a gun and keep it under the counter."

"Can a gun kill something from here?" Chelsea asked, her brow furrowing.

"I guess we'll find out if you do it," the man said, taking his wine and, cigar on his face, extended his hand for her to sake, which she did as he added, "I'm Polaris. It's nice to meet you Chelsea."

"How...how did you know my name?"

"It's on your nametag," Polaris said, pointing at her shirt, making her chuckle nervously.

"Oh, hah, right," she said, "Sorry, this has been a weird day."

"And it promises to get weirder," he said, almost sinister like as he motioned towards the front door and exited. Chelsea stood there, somewhat surprised at the conversation she'd just had. Maybe this job wouldn't be interacting with just monsters. Maybe things would be sort of normal from time to time. Maybe she'd worried too much, and sometimes customers would come in that would be almost normal.

And then the large sentient hand walked in and demolished that hope.

                                                                           ***

"You did...exceptionally well," Luna said, standing with Chelsea at the counter as Chelsea shoved her uniform into her backpack, preparing to leave.

"Yeah, well, it was weird, but there wasn't much business like you said, so," Chelsea replied, pulling her backpack onto her shoulders after she had zipped it up; she turned to Luna and asked, "So...do I have the job then?"

"...I'd say so, yeah. Come on in tomorrow night and let's see how this continues," she replied.

"Hey, uh, this guy named Polaris came in, and-"

"...he did?" Luna asked, now sounding concerned, "Chelsea, Polaris is a dangerous individual. Don't let him get inside your head, okay? If he comes in again, tell him to leave without talking to you. That's how he gets to people. All he has to do is talk. Now hurry up or you'll miss your cab."

Chelsea looked outside and noticed the taxi sitting outside with human fists for wheels. She sighed and headed towards the door.

This was gonna be a weird year.

It was a slow and quiet morning. The kind of mornings that Molly loved. She'd wake up, make a pot of coffee, warm herself up some leftover pastries from the nearby bakery, and maybe do the crossword. That was, in fact, exactly what she was doing this particular morning. She figured she'd take a nice bath after this and then get to work drafting in her home office, until the knock came at her door. Visitors at 9am? Who the hell would be here now? She groaned, pushed herself up from her breakfast nook in the kitchen and headed to the front door, which she opened to find, of all people, Zoe standing there with a few bags.

"...I need help," Zoe said, "I need to hide."

"Hide from what?" Molly asked as Zoe exhaled.

"My folks," she said.

Now that, Molly felt, was relatable. She let her in without a single hesitation. Zoe set her things down in the living room, then walked into the kitchen and sat at the table as Molly poured her a cup of coffee and warmed her up a pastry as well, setting both down in front of her before seating herself once more.

"Everything okay?" Molly asked as she sipped her coffee.

"I woke up to my mom folding my underwear, does that answer your question?" Zoe asked.

"Oddly enough, yes," Molly replied.

"I can't be around them," Zoe said, "I just...I had to bail and fast, and you were the only place I could think of to go to. I couldn't go to Allie's."

"Why not?"

Zoe didn't want to admit it, but she had thought about going to Allie's first, actually. At least until she remembered Nick was back in the picture. These days it seemed as if all of Allie's spare time was taken up by her relationship. And she felt uncomfortable going to Effie, asking if she could stay with her for a while. Sure they'd been together for over 6 months now, but it still made her feel icky. Zoe sighed and ran her hands over her face.

"thanks for letting me in," she mumbled.

"I have a guest bedroom," Molly said, "You're welcome to stay as long as you want. I'm happy for the company."

Zoe smiled. Perhaps, despite not actually being her first choice, Molly really was the best alternative after all.

                                                                               ***

Truth be told, Allie wouldn't have answered the door anyway if Zoe had gone there, because that morning in particular, she was on her back in bed, with Nick on top of her, thrusting away like there was no tomorrow. After they were finished, Allie lay there and stared at the ceiling, feeling better than she had in ages. During their brief time apart, she'd forgotten how good he was in bed, and she was grateful to be reminded now. Allie grabbed her cigarettes from the bedside table and lit one, taking a few puffs as Nick was in the bathroom, combing his hair and brushing his teeth.

"Was there anything else besides me you wanted to do today?" Allie asked, making him laugh.

"Actually," he said, "I was hoping to go check out this antique shop. I'm trying to redo my apartment, and I'm tired of living in essentially a college boys dorm. I wanna be more like a classy older man, you know, the kind of guy who drinks scotch and reads russian novels and collects things from the 20s."

"Oh okay, you wanna be a stereotype, I got it," Allie said, making him laugh again as he pulled on his shirt over his head and entered the bedroom. Allie sat up, still naked, still smoking. He sat on the bed and pulled her in, kissing her. She didn't hesitate for a second. She was, if anything, extremely happy to see him be this romantic towards her. Maybe, she thought, getting her life together was for the best after all, especially if it meant he wanted to be with her again.

"You're gonna come with me, right?" he asked.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, I don't know when your practice days are or anything," Nick said.

"Ah, we're not practicing lately. We're just doing the same show for a while," Allie said, "lemme get dressed and we can go, so long as we can get tacos while we're out."

Nick watched as she started to stand up, then he jumped back on the bed and held her down, kissing her neck, making her laugh.

"Well," he said, "maybe you don't have to get dressed just yet. Antique shop's not closing at 10 in the morning after all."

"You're a tiger," she said, "but, you know, the kind I'd like be mauled by."

Nick threw his head back and laughed. Allie's dark sense of humor was always one of his favorite qualities about her. So they stayed in the bedroom for another hour, before showering together and finally going out antique shopping. The place Nick wanted to go was called Cleopatras Closet, and it was on a somewhat abandoned drag in Vegas. In fact, the only other places opened on the same street were a Pho shop and a dirty bookstore. This was my kind of neighborhood, Allie thought, as they headed inside.

Trinkets and tchotchkes galore lined the shelves inside; old magazines, marionettes, vintage lamps. Whatever it was you were in the market for, there was a good likelihood that Cleopatras Closet had it. Allie was impressed at their selection, as she strolled along and looked at all the various items. Nick was apparently looking for things that were western themed, as he'd long since been a fan of the genre, so Allie kept her eyes peeled for anything of the sort; horses, cowboys, etc.

As she turned a corner, she bumped into someone and immediately apologized, before realizing it was her cousin Megan.

"Oh, hi," Allie said flatly.

"What are you doing here?" Megan asked.

"Shopping with my boyfriend, wherever he is now," Allie said, "What about you?"

"Shopping for a friends birthday," Megan said, as they continued to walk down the aisle together; she brushed her hair out of her face and continued, "but I'm just not good at birthday shopping. You remember, all the awful gifts I gave you over the years."

"No, I don't, cause I returned them for better ones," Allie said, making Megan laugh. They stopped and she started flipping through a scattered collection of old black and white framed photos.

"So I hear you're doing really well, you have a big marquee at the new casino and everything," Megan said.

"It's been good, yeah," Allie replied, "Zoe's been a great teammate honestly, and I've stopped drinking and taking pills, and...I mean, I occasionally have a drink and I do take painkillers if I have a headache but, I'm doing much better. I'm nowhere near as messed up as I was even just a year ago, and it feels good, it feels good to be sober and in control. It's like, you never realize-"

Allie just noticed Megan was crying. She reached out and put her hand on Megan's shoulder.

"Uh, you okay there, champ?" she asked.

"Jeff is cheating on me," she said quietly.

"What??"

"Yeah," Megan said, nodding, "He, uh, he doesn't know that I know, but I do know. I don't know what to do about it. Do I confront him, do I just leave, and then there's Lane and how would she react? Do I do what a lot parents do and stay together for the kid? I just...I never thought this sort of thing would happen to me. Jeff was always the best, he was always so supportive and romantic and..."

They heard a cluttering sound and looked down the aisle to see Nick and a little boy playing with old metal trucks together and laughing. Allie and Megan couldn't help but smile.

"...Nick's a good guy, Allie," Megan said, "Don't lose him this time. Do whatever it takes to make it work. Um, I'm free a lot of nights now, if you wanna maybe catch up and get some dinner or something. I miss you."

Allie leaned in and hugged her cousin tightly.

"I miss you too," she replied.

After Megan walked away to purchase her items, Allie couldn't help but think about how things had turned around so much. Just a year ago or so, she was the one with the relationship problems. She was the one who was breaking down. Now everything was topsy turvey and Allie was on top of the world, with the best boyfriend one could hope for. Maybe she'd invite Megan to do magic with her and Zoe some time, for old times sake. She heard the sound of metal beside her and looked over to see Nick there, holding a old toy firetruck.

"What happened to the whole western theme?" she asked.

"I mean, I still like it, but firetrucks are cool," Nick replied.

"You know you shouldn't just play with other peoples children like that," Allie said, "You're a guy, it looks weird."

"I'll try to remember that next time I'm about to abduct a child," Nick said, making her laugh.

                                                                           ***

Molly's home office was lovely.

It was filled to the brim with plant life and books about architecture and, of course, her multiple drafting tables and equipment. All of it was set in front of a large bay window, and when the sun hit at just the right time of day, yes, it was the nicest room in the house and Zoe felt lucky to see it. Standing there, looking through the bookshelf while Molly did a little work at her table, she couldn't help but notice the only photograph, framed even, sitting on the shelf in front of the books. Zoe picked it up and looked at it; a teenage Molly with, presumably, her parents.

"These your folks?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

"Yep," Molly said, not even looking back.

"You not on good terms with your parents either?" Zoe asked.

"I..." Molly started, then turned around in her chair and looked at Zoe, "uh...not particularly. Um. I was sexually assaulted when I was in high school, and when I told them, they blamed me for some reason, even though that was like the first relationship I'd ever had. Anyway, I got a scholarship to a college here, moved away and we haven't really spoken much since. My mother has since sort of backed away from the whole religious conservative mindset that soured them, but my father's a whole different story entirely. If anything he's only gotten worse with age. My mother has apologized to me, but everything is still on shaky grounds."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Zoe said, "my parents think I'm a criminal, for what it's worth. Not that they're far off...the problem is, they act as if the things they've said or done have been justifiable, and aren't even remotely aware of how their actions have hurt me, so I've just avoided them. Been living with my sister for years now."

"It hurts. Not having family," Molly said, playing with loose threads on the knees of her jeans, "I mean, it's good to not be around that much toxicity, but to not have family it makes the world feel a little smaller, a little colder. Makes holidays less enjoyable. You realize what so many others have that you don't and you feel a weird combination of jealousy and anger and regret, even though you know you're better off without them. It's...it's hard."

"It is, but that's why it's important to have found family, like Allie and I. I can't imagine not having her in my life," Zoe said, "Growing up I was such a fan, and now I'm her partner in magic, like, that's mind blowing to me, you know? You're our friend too, that's why I came here, cause I trusted you."

Molly smiled.

"Well, thank you," Molly said, "I appreciate being your friend, and I'm glad you know how I feel about family. I'm glad we're on the same page there at least."

"What are you designing?" Zoe asked, walking towards the table.

"Nothing official. I design homes for fun," Molly said, "I think I got into architecture because I came from a broken home. In my off time, I design some of them for fun, places I'd love to live but could never afford to build. But it helps seeing the dream on paper, you know? Makes it feel tangible, if nothing else."

Zoe nodded as she pulled up a seat and watched. Magic was good and all, but she liked seeing someone else make something out of nothing.

                                                                          ***

"Anything?" Agent Tropper asked as he approached Siskel's desk. She had feet up and was sucking down noodles from a chinese takeout box while her phone tucked under her chin. She shook her head and he groaned, sitting down. After a minute, she thanked the person on the phone, then hung up.

"I don't get it, this guy is the son of the governor, but nobody knows what happened to him?" Agent Tropper asked, "How's that even possible? How does a governors son just up and disappear?"

"I don't know man, but we're getting nowhere," Agent Siskel said, "All I do know is that he and Claire were mutual benefactors. Hell, he probably supplied a good portion of the people in this city. What we need to do is get access to his apartment, you know? Get a warrant and get in there, see if he left any kind of paper trail."

Agent Tropper leaned back in his seat and sighed.

"And what do we do about Driscoll?" he asked.

"Eventually she's gonna have something else for us," Agent Siskel said, "Especially if she wants to not get the death penalty. If she wants to work out some kind of deal, she's gonna have to work with us on this. I think she knows more than she's letting on."

"Why would she hide it if she did?"

"Loyalty? I don't know. Running a cult can create a kind of mindset that you can trick anyone into doing anything. It's like a magic trick, you know? You create an illusion out of nothing. She got these people to believe in something just by being charming enough, and a magician never reveals their secrets."

"You're a dweeb," Agent Tropper said, making the both of them laugh; he groaned, stood up and sighed, "Welp, guess I'll try and get that warrant. Otherwise we have no leads and it's gonna go cold before it even started."

With that, each agent went back to their respective work, each not knowing where it all would eventually lead. In the end, it would turn out that Agent Siskel was far more accurate in her comparison than they could've ever anticipated.

                                                                              ***

"I like it," Allie said, admiring the firetruck now sitting on Nick's mantel in his apartment. She was holding a glass of wine, as he came into the room, holding his own.

"It's okay if you drink wine, right?" he asked.

"Hard liquor is my issue, but yes, a glass or two is okay," Allie said, "I'm capable of restraining myself...can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly," Nick said, sitting on the couch as Allie paced in front of him.

"Do you see any kind of future?" Allie asked.

"You asking if I'm a seer, or?"

"No, idiot," she said, laughing, "No, I mean, like...what do you see for yourself, maybe, 5 years from now, you know? Do you see yourself ever owning a home, ever having a family, ever...ever having a wife? Does that sort of stuff ever cross your mind?"

"Yeah, I mean occasionally," Nick said, leaning forward, "...why, does it cross yours?"

"I like things the way they are right now," Allie said, setting their wine glasses on the table by the couch and climbing into Nick's lap, "but I can't say I'm not open to change. It just all depends. I just wanted to see what your head was at about it all."

Nick kissed her and then kissed down her neck to her collarbones, making her breath heavily.

"Let's just take it one day at a time," he said softly, and she nodded in agreement.

Seeing Megan so upset messed her up, and had gotten her thinking about her own future. Whether she'd ever want children. Whether she'd ever want to be married. And if so, could she see herself having those things with Nick? Megan wasn't wrong in calling him a good guy. Nick was, in fact, a good guy. He was the best guy she'd ever dated, and she was so happy to know him and to have him. But she couldn't help but think about the future. Things had changed so drastically in the past year that it made her think that maybe change wasn't all that bad after all.

Of course, by the end of this year, she'd go back to believing change was awful.

But like Nick had said, best to take it one day at a time.

It was just another day for Claire Driscoll.

She would wake up, take a shower, get dressed and then drive a few miles out of town to the outer desert area of Vegas, until she finally came to the compound. She'd park, she'd walk inside and she'd eat breakfast that had been lovingly made for her. She would go over her speech while she ate, sometimes even rewriting sections minutes before reciting it, and once breakfast was done, Claire would slip into her black robe and put the wooden crown on her head. She'd walk slowly, cautiously, out to the stage and look out over the large group of people she had standing, waiting for her, who cheered upon her arrival. Claire shut her eyes and smiled, basking in the adoration from her followers, and then would hold up her hands to silence them, before clearing her throat and speaking.

"Hello and good morning to you all," she said, "This is a day we will not forget soon, for it is the day the last required death will be attained. I will do this with my own hands, like all the others, so you all remain pure. Once they have been killed, we shall we be protected, just as I have promised."

The crowd murmured, some light applause scattering throughout.

"As you all know," Claire continued, pacing across the stage, "It will take a while for the world to understand, and accept, what we do here. But in the end, we will be vindicated, and you will be saved, that much I can guarantee."

Suddenly her head throbbed and she reached up, touching her forehead before suddenly exiting the stage, leaving one of her higher ups to speak in her place. Claire leaned against the wall and groaned as another higher up of hers, a young woman named Annie, approached.

"Have we heard from him yet?" Claire asked, and Annie shook her head.

"He's still not answering his phone," she said.

"Ugh," Claire groaned again, pulling her crown off and running her hands through her large matte of red hair; she continued, "this is unacceptable, I need that medication. I needed it months ago. Find out where he is, okay? Do whatever it takes."

"Yes ma'am," Annie said, leaving with her cell phone again.

Claire Driscoll hadn't wanted to lead these people in this sort of ritual, but her poor mental health had overwhelmed her. In the beginning, she'd merely been a leader of a group of people who'd wanted something more out of life, but ever since her dealers disappearance - thus losing her access to her antipsychotics - she'd slipped further and further into her delusions, eventually leading her group to follow her as she began to kill people and store their remains in the walls of an abandoned apartment complex she'd purchased.

Eventually, when her crimes were discovered and Claire was finally arrested, she swore up and down that it wasn't her fault, that if she'd just had her medication, none of this would've happened. She told them to find her dealer, to find the man who had been selling her pills since she couldn't attain healthcare, but they didn't listen to her. To them, it was just a flimsy excuse for her actions, but Claire swore she'd somehow discover what had happened to the man who'd been keeping her in line with his access to pills.

She'd discover what had happened to Sunny Sykes, the drug dealer Allie Meers had killed and buried.

                                                                               ***

Allie rolled over onto her side and opened one eye, her focus blurry, as she saw Nick lying in the bed beside her. She smiled and reached over, rubbing her hand down his arm, making him wake up a little and smile at her. After a moment, he scooted closer to her and climbed on top of her, kissing her neck, making her moan. After fucking, Allie and Nick showered, got dressed and went to get breakfast at a nearby pastry place that Zoe had been going to and raving about lately.

Zoe was already there, standing in line, with Molly by her side, waiting to order. It had been about half a year since the opening of The Card Shark, and things had only gotten better for them all. Every morning the four of them got together for breakfast at a different place, and Zoe had recommended this place the previous night because she'd been here with Effie time and time again. Waiting to order, Zoe folded her arms and sighed, tapping her foot.

"Do you want coffee?" she asked, glancing at Molly, who shook her head.

"No thanks," she replied, "No, I'm in a constant state of anxiety without the help of caffeine, thank you very much. I've been trying to drink less coffee for a few months now."

"How's that working out for you?" Zoe asked.

"Well, let's put it this way," Molly replied, "I was hired to make a suite of offices a month ago and I haven't started conceptualizing because I'm too tired all the time. That answer your question?"

"It answers my question about whether or not you're a grouch in the morning," Zoe muttered, the both of them chuckling.

Zoe suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder and looked to her side to see Allie standing there, smiling, as Nick went and got them all a table. Allie's hair was braided and she was wearing jeans and an orange v-neck with a green windbreaker. Molly was in a blouse with jeans, while Zoe was in a striped shirt with slacks. The three women stood their place in line, almost at the counter.

"What about you, you're still drinking coffee, right?" Zoe asked, glancing at Allie.

"Me? Yeah, duh. Why, who isn't drinking coffee?"

"Heyo," Molly said, raising her hand.

"You're not drinking coffee? What do you drink in the morning?" Allie asked, sounding concerned.

"Oh, usually I just lift up the toilet seat and take a few laps out of the bowl," Molly said, staring at her sternly, "I drink tea, I drink water, what the hell do you think I drink? At least I'm not out here drinking half a flask of scotch before noon."

"Don't knock it til you've tried it," Allie said, making them all chuckle.

Yes, things had been great for the girls in the six months since the Card Shark had opened, and each woman had never been better. Zoe was becoming more and more proficient in her magic skills - to the point where she was, at times, outright opening for Allie instead of just assisting her - while Molly had gained more attention for her work on the new casino and had since been offered multiple jobs by high profile clients. And Allie? Well, Allie was as Allie always is.

Astounding.

                                                                               ***

Zoe awoke in a flash, sweating, breathing hard. She'd been having these nightmares for a few weeks now, and she was beginning to get tired of them. She rolled over and looked at the clock on her bedside table, which informed her it was only 3am. She sighed and sat up, running her hands through her bushy hair. She got out of bed and headed down the hall, to the kitchen, where she made herself a sandwich and got a soda from the fridge before seating herself at the table.

She hadn't thought about Sunny in months now, so why all of a sudden was his death invading her dreams? She just tried to shake it off, best she could, and focus on her sandwich. She wondered if Allie ever had dreams like this. If Allie ever had nightmares about Sunny...about what they'd done to him. She shook that off as well, trying to outright ignore anything Sunny related now. Sandwich. All that mattered was the sandwich. She heard footsteps approaching, and glanced to the doorway to see her sister Thea coming in, yawning.

"Bad dreams again?" she asked, stretching as she took a seat.

"Yeah, why are you up?" Zoe asked.

"Period cramps," Thea replied, making Zoe nod in understanding; Thea took a sip of Zoe's soda, smacked her lips then said, "so, uh...mom called me last night while you were at work."

"Really?" Zoe asked, genuinely surprised, "Why would she ever do that?"

"Heh, I guess she just was feeling melancholy. She asked how you were doing. I told her you were doing great, and that you had a good job and a good circle of friends. She sounded actually happy for you. She said she'd like to talk to you."

"Yeah, well, that would require me wanting to talk to her, and I don't see that happening," Zoe said.

"Fair 'nuff, just thought I'd tell you," Thea said, shrugging, "Well, if you're having trouble sleeping, or are afraid you might have more bad dreams, try listening to some white noise. That always seems to relax me. But who knows, might not work for you. You might not find the soothing sounds of ocean calmness as soothing as they claim to be."

Thea stood up, kissed her little sister on the head and then headed back to bed. Zoe stayed seated and continued eating her sandwich. Once she was done, she washed her plate, crushed her soda can and tossed it in the recycling can, and then headed back to her bedroom. God. Mom...mom wanted to talk to her after all this time? Ugh. As if she didn't already have enough people she was trying not to think about without adding her parents to the mix.

                                                                               ***

Allie was seated at the bar, eating pretzel sticks out of the bowl on the counter while watching the television that was hung up overhead for patrons. The bartender, a 30sish woman by the name of Portia, walked up and started wiping the counter near Allie.

"Not working today?" she asked.

"Not til tonight," Allie replied, "these pretzel sticks are stale."

"I didn't know nor do I care. I am not the one who keeps these snack bowls filled. You wanna lodge a formal complaint, take it up with whoever that guy is," Portia said.

"Who is the guy who fills these bowls?"

"I don't know, his name's probably Greg or something, I've never met him. I just show up and they're filled, as if by some magical unseen snack loving force."

"Sounds like something a guy named Greg would do," Allie replied, the both of them smirking as Effie climbed onto the stool beside Allie and pulled a granola bar from her pocket, ripping it open with her teeth and biting into it. Allie slowly looked over at her, one eyebrow raised.

"I didn't have breakfast," she said mouth half full of granola bar.

"You're also not having breakfast now," Allie said, laughing.

"It's the closest thing I could get!" Effie said, as Allie turned Effie's wrist and looked at the wrapper.

"Honey, marshmellow and chocolate granola," Allie read, "Yeah, sounds like a real part of a balanced breakfast."

"So," Effie said, swallowing her mouthful of granola, "Zoe's not here yet?"

"I haven't seen her, no," Allie said, "She didn't spend the night with you?"

"Nah, I had to work late and then I had to do some press junkets for a TV special, so," Effie said, "I didn't want her waiting around for me. She's been doing good in her magic, I've stopped by to see her open for you and boy she's really coming along."

"Yeah, she's a very talented young lady," Allie said.

"That make you nervous? Like she could usurp you?"

"Usurp me? I'm not a king."

"You know what I mean," Effie said, laughing.

"I mean," Allie replied, shrugging half heartedly, "Sort of I guess but I also know she respects me and that we're friends. I trust that she wouldn't do that sort of thing. She has admiration for me, and frankly I've gotten used to having her around, so it wouldn't be the same without her. Besides, now we're known as a team basically, despite not being billed as such, so that sort of change would confuse showgoers. You know how the public is, they need everything to stay simple and stay the same. One little move to the left and you've got them all worked up."

"It's true," Effie said, "Once, instead of doing a set of comedy, I came on stage and performed open heart surgery. They just didn't get it."

Allie threw her head back, laughing heavily, as Effie smirked. Allie knew she should find Zoe at some point, preferably before the show that night, but until that happened she didn't mind just sitting here with Effie and having fun. Life hadn't been fun for so long, she was having a good time getting used to it again.

                                                                              ***

The door opened, and a man and a woman entered the room. The man, younger, the woman, older, both in suits. They sat down at the table, looking across at the young woman sitting opposite them, who wouldn't bring her eyes to their level. After a moment, the woman in the suit sighed and slid a file across the table towards the other woman.

"It's pretty bad," she said, "You're looking at a life sentence. Anything you wanna inform us about before the justice system makes some kind of assumption?"

"...I needed medication," Claire finally said, "...I don't think I would've done what I did had I been properly medicated. The health system is a joke, so I turned to outside sources, primarily drug dealers, and primarily one drug dealer in particular. But when he stopped returning my calls...that's when I got bad again. That's when I started spouting all that stuff about rebirth."

"So you don't believe any of it?" the man asked.

"I do, because it's all I have to believe in," Claire said, "but this is just as much his fault as it is mine, for letting me down."

The man and woman exchanged a look, then stood up and started to exit. As the woman started to pull the door shut behind her, Claire turned her head and spoke again.

"His name was Sunny Sykes," she said, "and if I'd gotten the chance, I would've killed him too for what he did to me."

With that, the door shut. The man and woman found themselves standing in the hall now, staring at one another.

"Well that's an admittance of sorts," Agent Tropper said, shaking his head, "I mean...she flat out admitted she'd have killed her own drug dealer. Then again, trying to rope him into the blame for her actions...I mean, on some level she's not wrong, cause yeah, he stopped providing her and let her slip into unreality, but he wasn't the one who carried out these acts."

"This is pretty clear cut," the woman, Agent Siskel, replied, adding, "she committed the crimes, drug dealer or not, and now she's the one who'll be facing the penalty for it. I don't think we have to work too hard to convince any judge or jury of her crimes."

"You wanna get lunch?" Agent Tropper asked.

"Yeah, sure," Agent Siskel said, the two of them heading down the hall. Suddenly, Agent Siskel stopped, her eyes glued to a board on the wall. Agent Tropper walked back to her and watched her momentarily, snapping his fingers.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"Look," she said quietly, pointing.

There, on the board, was a "Missing" poster for a man named Sunny Sykes...and below it, a statement which read:

                           "Help find the Governors Son! Any information welcome!"

"...shit," Agent Tropper whispered.