"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.

Stacy Baker was doing something she usually didn't do. Cleaning. But since firing their nanny, she had to pick up some of the slack around the house, and since she didn't have work today, this seemed like as good a time as any. She walked into her daughters bedroom to put away her clothes when she was hit with a rank smell that made her gag and recoil. She set the clothes down on the bed, then started walking around, opening the closet door and some dresser drawers, trying to find out what this smell was and where it was emanating from. She turned back around, facing the bed, and kicked a toy boat on the floor. Her daughter, Kelly, loved the model toy boats that she was given, the kind that were remote controlled and you could drive in water. Stacy bent down, picking it up and then pulled open the lid to the toybox so she could place it inside.

That's when she screamed.

                                                                            ***

Kelly looked up at her mother, seated beside her in the waiting room, and raised an eyebrow.

"Why are we here?" she asked.

"Because you need to talk to someone," Stacy replied, "and I don't want to get your father involved, so we're doing this now. He'll question the bill, but I'll just say it was a normal doctors visit."

"But why are we here? What did I do wrong?" Kelly asked.

"Because what was in your toybox," Stacy said quietly, almost as if she herself were afraid to acknowledge it. The door finally opened, and another mother and her teenage son came strolling out. As they headed past and exited the front door, the doctor looked at Stacy and Kelly and smiled politely.

"Mrs. Baker?" she asked, "I'm Anette Benning. I'll be meeting with you and your daughter today. Please, come inside, won't you?"

"Actually, I'd prefer it if we did this in parts. Perhaps you start with her and then meet with me?" Stacy asked, and Anette nodded.

"That can be done, certainly," she said, walking over to Kelly and kneeling in front of her, smiling as she said, "Hi Kelly, I'm Anette. I'm gonna be talking to you today, okay? Why don't you come inside my office and we'll talk and play a game, yeah?"

Kelly glanced at Anette, then at her mother, then climbed down from the seat and followed Anette into her office, the door shutting behind her. There was a small sandbox in the office, and Kelly immediately went to sit in it, while Anette gathered her tools - a pen, a pad of paper, her reading glasses - and then walked across the office to sit in her chair. As she looked down at Kelly, who was now busy burying something in the sand, she leaned forward and crossed her legs.

"So Kelly, your mother told me she wanted me to speak with you because she's concerned. She found something inside your toybox, something that shouldn't have been in there," Anette said, "Do you wanna talk about what that was? Maybe why it was there?"

Kelly shrugged and said, "It wasn't anything."

"It wasn't 'wasn't anything', Kelly. It really upset your mother. You don't want your mother to be upset, right?"

Kelly shook her head, her braids swinging.

"Right," Anette said, "So why would you keep that in your toybox?"

"Where else would I keep it?" Kelly asked, stopping her playing and looking up at Anette now, adding, "...that's where I keep things I like to play with."

She didn't admit it to anyone, but that made Anette's blood run cold, which was made all the more chilling by the fact that this statement came when Kelly was just a little girl.

                                                                            ***

Anette Benning was the premiere child psychologist of the area.

At this point in time, she was in her mid thirties, and she was still single, but mostly because she chose to be. She preferred to keep her focus on the children she wanted to help, instead of on herself. She was who all the upper class parents sent their trouble kids to, and she usually was capable of working wonders with them, but this wasn't the case for Kelly Baker. The thing is, she never stopped seeing Kelly, even after this incident, because she preferred to keep close tabs on her. Even now, as Kelly reached her upper teens, she was still meeting with Anette.

In fact, she was sitting in her office at this very moment, while Anette gathered her equipment for note taking. Kelly was sitting in a chair, chewing gum and looking at her makeup in her compact as Anette secretly turned on the recorder she'd used to tape every one of their sessions, and then turned and, smile on her face, walked to her own chair and sat down.

"So, how are you this week?" Anette asked.

"I'm...okay," Kelly said, "I don't know, it's been weird lately."

"How so?"

"Just...I keep feeling like people are trying to use me, use my family," Kelly said, "and frankly, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of having to protect everyone in my life. I'm sick of people taking advantage of us. Using us. I'm not even an adult yet, legally, and I still feel like I have to act like one all the time because society sucks so bad."

"I'm sorry," Anette said.

"I went a party recently," Kelly said, "and this girl, who I thought was kind of my friend, just wanted to use me to get closer to my dad, maybe get a modeling career out of him. I know it's selfish, considering his line of work in that he has to interact with these women - often times extremely young and attractive women - but...he's MY dad, you know? He's MY person. I don't know, I feel very very protective."

"As you have every right to," Anette said, "...have you had any incidents?"

Kelly cleared her throat and looked around the room, like she was avoiding the subject. Anette smiled warmly, cocking her head.

"Come on, doctor/client privilege, you know I can't tell anyone anything unless you're admitting to actively planning to hurt someone or yourself," she said, "think of me as a paid confessional."

Kelly chuckled a bit, then ran her hand through her hair and sighed.

"...I still stop and watch him," she said, "I mean, I stop by his house and watch him sometimes. He acts like he didn't do anything wrong, like he didn't...like he didn't take something from me. And I wanna scream and I wanna hurt him, but...but I was told 'oh, the justice system will take care of him, you let the justice system worry about that', and then what does the justice system do? Not deliver justice, that's for damn sure. He gets away with everything, like what happened to me doesn't matter, like my experience means less than his freedom."

Anette nodded, writing in her notebook.

"This is, unfortunately, the way it is with many women," Anette said, "Men are rarely held accountable for their actions."

"And then I see some news story about some woman who offed a man who was abusing her relentlessly, and I think to myself 'good for you, you had the guts to do what the justice system wouldn't', and I'm told that's wrong, I'm told it's wrong to congratulate a woman taking control of her life, her body, while he gets to walk away with no repercussions, as if what he did wasn't wrong."

"You have every right to be angry, I would never tell you otherwise," Anette said.

"And yet I...I don't know that I'd do anything to him, even if I was able to, or given the opportunity. If someone put us in a room together and said there'd be no legal repercussions for my actions towards him, I still don't know that I'd be able to do anything because he conditioned me to care about him. I almost feel like...like him hurting me was normal, but me hurting him is unacceptable. Like women are meant to endure pain and trauma, just part of our shared experience, our collective misery, while men are expected - and allowed - to dole it out but not receive it."

Anette nodded, and sighed. This was one of those times where she felt genuinely bad for Kelly. She could see here was a young woman hurting deeply, even with her seemingly psychotic tendencies, and for a brief moment in time, Anette was able to see through the mask Kelly wore, and see the damaged little girl underneath.

"...anyway," Kelly said, exhaling, dabbing at her eyes with her fingertips, "Uh, I don't really wanna dwell on that."

"Okay, we don't have to," Anette said, "a good week otherwise?"

"...I guess," Kelly said, shrugging.

"Kelly," Anette said, crossing her legs and resting her arms on them, "Uh...you mention about how if there were no legal repercussions, would you be able to do something to him, and I just have to ask, even if you knew you wouldn't get caught, would you?"

A long moment passed, and Kelly started to smile.

"I guess we'd have to reach that point for me to make that decision," she said.

And once again, as usual with her interactions with Kelly Baker, Anette's blood ran cold.

                                                                             ***

"She scares me," Anette said, pouring a drink for herself and her date before walking back to the couch and sitting down, handing Tati her drink before adding, "I mean, she's a child, like a literal child, and yet she terrifies me. I've never run across a kid like this."

"Well, you've only been doing this a handful of years so far, so let's wait another decade and then see who turns up," Tati said, sipping her drink as Anette laughed nervously.

"This was our first session," Anette said, "and I was almost certain by the end of it that she'd somehow have found a way to kill to me in my office without being considered the prime suspect. She's just so...disengaged? Is that the right word? Like, like she...ugh..."

Anette leaned forward and put her drink on the coffee table as Tati reached over and rubbed her back.

"Hey, it's okay," she said, "It must've been weird and frightening, but it's over."

"No, that's the thing, it isn't. I have to keep seeing her," Anette said, putting her face in her hands, adding, "I have to...I can't pawn her off on someone else. I have to make sure that she never falls off this tightrope. That's up to me, now. That's my responsibility because she was brought to me. If I passed on her, and something wound up happening, then I'd blame myself."

Tati crawled behind Anette and rubbed her shoulders, leaning in and kissing her neck.

"You need to relax," Tati said, "you need to calm down, take some deep breaths and remember...you are not responsible for everyone. You cannot save everyone. You can only hope to help some people. We are here to listen, not guide. The moment you guide, the moment you get that involved, that's when all bets are off."

Anette reached up and ran her hands into Tati's hair, smiling as she whispered, "just keep kissing me."

These days Anette was single, but back then she appreciated having Tati's company. She wasn't sure if she'd been able to handle things without it, quite frankly. Now, however, she had to go it alone, and go it alone she would. She would do what she promised. She would watch over Kelly Baker, and make sure she didn't fall off that tightrope. Only trouble was...

...she'd already fallen long ago.

                                                                               ***

Kelly was laying in bed reading, when her mother entered her bedroom. She smiled and sat down on the side of the bed, reaching over and stroking her daughters hair. Kelly looked over at her and smiled back, and for a moment, Stacy was almost able to forget about the last 48 hours.

"I'm proud of you," Stacy said, "You went and you talked and you did well. I'm proud of you."

"Did I do something wrong?" Kelly asked.

"No, no of course not, and that's the thing," Stacy said, sighing, "I just...I dealt with some things when I was your age, and I was worried you might deal with the same things. That's why I wanted to make sure you got help. To make sure you'd be okay. What's going on isn't your fault, it's my fault if anyone's, because I'm the one who passed it down to you. But I was able to get help, and I've been stable, and now if you're having the same problems, then we'll get you the right help too."

"...I didn't mean to scare you," Kelly said, her voice quivering.

"Oh baby girl, you didn't scare me," Stacy said, leaning in and hugging her daughter now, rubbing her back comfortingly as she said, "I mean, I was scared because I wasn't expecting it, but I know it wasn't intentional. It's okay. You're okay, okay?"

Kelly nodded, smiling. As her mother pulled away from her and shut her light off, the glow in the dark overhead stars now illuminating the room, she leaned back in and kissed Kelly on the forehead.

"Now go to sleep," she said, "You have school tomorrow."

"Goodnight mommy," Kelly said as Stacy exited the room, blowing her another kiss. The door shut behind her, Stacy turned and began heading down the hallway. She down to her and her husbands bedroom and walked inside. He wouldn't be home for another hour at least, and she'd have ample time to take a shower and cleanse herself of this day. As she climbed into the searing hot water coming out the shower head, Stacy couldn't help but feel like maybe things would be okay. Maybe she could nip this in the bud like her own mother had done with her.

But the thing is, and Stacy had no way of knowing this of course, what Stacy dealt with terrified her. Kelly wasn't scared by it. To Kelly, it was normal. Ordinary. Perfectly okay. Stacy, as a child, had been mortified by her actions, and had wanted desperately to get better. Kelly, as it would turn out, would go the complete opposite direction. She reveled in her sickness. She made it a part of herself, unashamed and unafraid. She found strength and comfort in the horrors she unleashed.

And it didn't help that, because she watched her parents succeed in a line of work that insisted everyone involved be a fraud, she learned to be a really good liar.

                                                                            ***

Stacy fell onto her butt, slowly backing away from the toybox, hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with fear.

After a moment of collecting her breath, she managed to crawl cautiously back up to the toybox and open the lid once more. She wanted to vomit at the sight. A beautiful dove, its wings cut off, its body covered in stab wounds, sat on top of an old quilt, keeping it from touching the other toys below it. And if it'd just been a dead dove, even a mutilated one at that, Stacy might've been able to handle it. But it wasn't the dove that terrified her. It was the fact that, surrounding the dove, almost in a perfect circle...

...were the corpses of all its children.