The familiar thrum of Althea's ridiculously expensive convertible was a weird sort of lullaby after the, you know, soul-sucking void-dungeon-extravaganza.

  The top was down, letting the cool night air whip through my hair, but even that felt wrong. It was too normal.

  Too... real. I kept expecting to see a floating train car or a scrap-hound skittering across the asphalt.

  No one was talking. Alfie was gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing holding her together, her knuckles white against the leather. Linda was in the passenger seat, her Sapphire Lens glowing faintly as she... I don't know, cross-referenced the streetlights with her database of existential dread or something.

  And in the backseat, sandwiched between me and a pile of Alfie's bags that smelled vaguely of vanilla and money — was Reimi.

  She hadn't said a word since leaving the garage. She just sat there, staring out the window, her reflection a pale, sullen ghost against the passing streetlights. Every so often, I'd catch her flexing her wrist, the one Julian had grabbed, a tiny movement that made my stomach do a flip-flop for reasons I didn't quite understand.

  I was still trying to process the whole thing. Jules almost dying horribly, me having a magical brain-hug with a memory-ghost, punching Reimi, Jules almost dying again, Reimi turning into a magical goth-lolita death-dealer and racking up a monster-killing score that would probably make my dad's old team look like amateurs, and then...

  My brain felt like a browser with way, way too many tabs open. And they were all playing screamo music at the same time.

  "So," Althea finally said, her voice a little too bright, a little too forced. "That was... an evening. We're all getting Akira's tomorrow. My treat. No arguments. We can... debrief."

  "Debrief. Right. Because what we need is more doughy, cheesy goodness to help us process the fact that my best friend now has a ghost in his brain and our newest member is a walking, talking trauma-grenade," I mumbled, tucking my feet under me on the seat.

  Linda sighed, turning from the window to face the backseat.

  A honking sound erupted somewhere down the street. I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat.

  "Wahhh?!?! Are we being attacked again?" I asked, whipping my head around to scan the strip mall rooftops for goblins. My instincts were seriously on the fritz.

  "No," Althea said, her voice tight. "That's just Valentina. With Jules's car. And your... friend."

  Just then, a familiar-looking Honda Civic zipped past us, going way, way over the speed limit.

  I caught a glimpse of Valentina's furious face behind the wheel, her hair a fiery blur, and Julian in the passenger seat, looking pale and confused, like he'd just been strapped to a rocket.

  "LEARN HOW TO USE A TURN SIGNAL, YOU JACKALOPE-IN-AN-SUV. YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY PERSON ON THE ROAD!"

  Her enraged shriek was swallowed by the wind as the Civic flew past, it engine screaming in protest. The SUV 20 yards behind us honked back at her with the same angry beep of their own horn.

  Linda sighed, turning from the window to face the backseat. "Oh Val. I hope she gets him home in one piece. The car, at least."

  She shook her head. "That girl really knows how to make an exit."

  "At least she had the thought to bring Jules's car with her," Althea mumbled, taking the turn a little too fast. The tires squeaked in protest. "Sorry. I'm just... my hands are still shaking."

  The convertible's engine was the only sound for a moment, a low, expensive thrum that seemed to underscore everything.

  "You know, I've been thinking," Althea said, her gaze distant.

  I braced myself.

  "We're so out of our depth," she said softly. "I've read the reports. I've seen the simulations. The Association's official training manuals make all this seem... manageable. A calculated risk. But that... tonight... that wasn't a risk. Jesus Christ. That was a suicide mission we survived by sheer, stupid luck."

  Her eyes met mine in the mirror. "And she... Reimi... she's not like anyone in the manuals. She doesn't follow the rules. She's not a Protector, or a Vanguard, or a Specialist or a Caster. She's just death with a shotgun."

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Reimi grunted. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here," she grumbled. "And I'm not death. Death is quiet. I'm just plain messy."

  I wanted to say something. To tell Althea she was wrong, that Reimi was just misunderstood, and that she'd saved us.

  But I couldn't. Because Alfie wasn't wrong.

  Linda narrowed her eyes as she turned around again, her brow furrowed in concentration. She wasn't looking at the street anymore. She was looking at Reimi.

  "You know," Linda said, her voice quiet but firm, "something's been bothering me. That... box. The talking sarcophagus."

  "Tell me about it," I mumbled, rubbing my temples.

  "It called you 'Master Reimi'," Linda said, her gaze locked on the sullen girl in the backseat.

  "So what?" Reimi snapped, her voice harsh. "It's a name. Big deal."

  "No," Linda pressed, leaning towards us "It's a big deal."

  I tilted my head at Linda, who just bit her lip when she saw my confused expression. She didn't have to say anything.

  I could see her mind was turning. She wasn't trying to be weird or analytical. She was... worried. And trying to put together the puzzle pieces she'd been given.

  And then, my brain finally braked.

  It was a small thing. A tiny little detail that had been bugging me, like a popcorn kernel stuck in your teeth.

  Majalis.

  The creepy, floating, British-sounding sarcophagus box.

  It had called her 'Master Reimi.'

  Not 'Master 0042.' Not 'Hey, you with the gun.'

  "You're thinking too much," Reimi grumbled, staring out the window again.

  "Am I?" Linda shot back. "I don't think so. That's the only name I've ever heard you called. And the box knew you. Intimately. So... that's your real name, isn't it? Reimi."

  Reimi stiffened. She didn't say anything, but the sudden tension in her shoulders was all the confirmation I needed.

  Wait.

  Hold the phone.

  Reimi.

  It was my name for her. The one I'd given her.

  I named her. I'd literally pulled it out of thin air.

  But she'd answered to it. From the very beginning. She never once questioned it.

  "Haaah?" I squeaked, the word getting stuck in my throat. "But... but I... I named you. Because of the zeroes... you know..." I trailed off, feeling like a complete and total idiot.

  Althea, who had been listening with growing confusion, glanced between me and Reimi, her brow furrowed.

  "So... wait. You just... made up a name, and it turned out to be her real name?" Alfie asked, her grip on the steering wheel loosening a little as her confusion overrode her nerves. "What are the odds?"

  "Astronomically slim, if the box wasn't just pulling some kind of prank on us," Linda said, her gaze still locked on Reimi.

  I looked at Reimi. Her face was a perfect, unreadable mask in the dim glow of the street lights.

  "Reimi," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Is that... your name?"

  She finally looked at me. She didn't say anything.

  And then, she did the last thing I expected.

  She laughed.

  It was a harsh, bitter, broken sound that was halfway between a sob and a cough.

  "It's the name you gave me, isn't it?" she said, her voice flat. "That's all that matters."

  And then, she turned her back on us, her shoulders slumping, and stared out the window again, leaving us with a hundred more questions than we'd started with.

  Althea finally pulled up to my curb, the engine of her convertible purring like a sleepy, very expensive cat. My house was dark, save for the single light on in the living room, a beacon of normalcy that felt a million miles away.

  "Okay," Alfie said, putting the car in park. "We're here. I'll... I'll call you all in the morning. We'll figure this out. Together."

  "Right," Linda nodded. "Be safe."

  Reimi was already getting out of the car before it had fully stopped. She looked up at the sky, and she finally let herself let out the breath she'd been holding.

  I was left just sitting there, my mind reeling.

  Reimi.

  Linda was annoying sharp sometimes.

  If she hadn't picked up on that detail from the box thing, it would have gone right over my head.

  The name I gave her. The name she had accepted without a question.

  And the name that talking box from her past had called her.

  It couldn't be a coincidence. Could it? The universe wasn't that... neat. That wasn't how magic worked. It was all messy and chaotic and full of weird exceptions.

  Not... whatever this was.

  Was it?

  "Maya?" Althea asked, her voice soft. "You okay?"

  I blinked, realizing I was just sitting there. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Just... processing."

  I looked over at Reimi, who was standing on the sidewalk, her back to us, a lone, dark figure under the streetlight. She raised one hand, framing the sky like a window.

  I grabbed my bag from the floor. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

  "Call me if you need anything," Linda said, her voice serious. "Anything."

  "I will," I promised.

  I climbed out of the car, the cool night air hitting me like a splash of water. Althea waited until I was on the sidewalk before she pulled away, the red lights of her car disappearing down the street.

  I was alone with Reimi.

  We stood there in silence for a long moment, the only sound the distant hum of traffic and the chirping of crickets. I had a million things I wanted to ask her. A million things I wanted to say.

  But I couldn't find the words.

  "Your dad's home," she said, her voice a flat statement. "He's probably worried."

  "Yeah..." I said, shoving my hands in my pockets. "Probably."

  I looked up at the house. At the light in the window. At the home I thought I'd almost lost twice this weekend.

  Reimi sighed.

  For the first time, she didn't look like a scary, world-weary warrior or a sullen, angsty teenager.

  She just looked... lonely.

  She had no one. No home. No family.

  Just a box of nightmares and a name.

  I walked closer to Reimi, my sneakers crunching on the gravel of my driveway as I shoulder bumped her.

  "Hey, Reimi?"

  She didn't respond.

  "Welcome home," I said, my voice small but sure.

  She just stood there for a long, silent moment, a solitary figure against the inky blackness of the night.

  "You coming in?" I asked, my voice small. "Or are you just gonna stand here and commune with your dark, spooky master or whatever?"

  She turned to look at me, her face shadowed in the dim light. I couldn't read her expression.

  "Yeah... okay," she said, her voice so quiet I almost didn't hear her.

  Together, we walked back up to my front door.

  Towards home.