Laurel's eyes trace over a map bursting with annotation in red marker. It's clearly nothing of note, but she can give it one more pass with a ruler, if only to assuage Baker's nerves. Sure, the idea of aggregate spells composed of smaller spells across distance has floated around before, but these are just random points that happen to line up into a kind of circle. "Nope, nothing."

  "Damn. Really thought I was on to something. Thanks."

  "No problem." Laurel stands up, stretching her arms, and heads to next person flagging her down. At least, she would have. Garza grabs her arm as she passes by, and pulls her over to his desk.

  "There you are, Vale. Say, you know about necromancy, right?"

  She faces away, but turns her eyes back to Garza. "I am familiar with some facets of it."

  "What specifically, though?"

  "It's a broad area, hard to narrowly define."

  "Try."

  "I guess... divination, maybe?"

  "Then you won't be any help in dealing with this. Shame, lotta lives at stake..."

  "Sorry, sir."

  Garza glares at her, but lets her go once he sees Willow is watching.

  Laurel, finally freed, slides into place next to Ophelia. "What's up?"

  She points to her laptop, revealing a spell that's oddly shaped, as though it were horizontally reflected and then altered. "Can't decode the this spell... is it even a spell? I understand what the top half is doing, but not the bottom."

  Laurel takes a look at the rock carving, and nods to herself. "I've seen this before. It used to be a big thing in theosophy. As above, so below. They'd make spells in half of a circle, then use the other half to make a complimentary spell. It was partly an art form, partly for showing off. Just rotate the image."

  Ophelia picks up her laptop, and turns it upside-down. "I'll be damned... So why bother with actual spellcraft? Theosophists are occultists, not magicians."

  "As above, so below. They believe that there are two halves to magic, so they'd study both sides equally. At least, in theory."

  "Huh... were you one of them?"

  Laurel chuckles at the question. "I'm obviously not going to answer that."

  "Fine, fine. That's all, Vale. Thank you."

  "Happy to help." Laurel gets up, and seeing she's not needed at the moment, sits down next to Willow.

  She's typing an email on her phone, but Laurel doesn't feel the need to pry. It's been a couple days since Willow saved her ass, and nothing bad has happened. At least, not yet.

  Now that Laurel has time without the constant icy stabs of paranoia polluting her mind, she realizes it doesn't make much sense for Willow to try and play double agent. They're together constantly, so the risk that she'd be found out is huge, especially after Laure saw the button had a hidden microphone...

  That does lead to the question of who is listening, though. If Willow didn't have orders to, then who would be eavesdropping, and why? Magimax gave out the buttons, so maybe someone at Counter-Magic trying to stay under the radar? But again, why, at this point? And why did the MBR Director in California of all people decide to get involved?

  She involuntarily shudders thinking of that man again. Laurel has had a lot of occult experience, but something about him... he's completely steeped in some kind of magic she's not familiar with, like he took a bath in a can of pungent body spray.

  Whatever it is, a geas is binding, no matter if you're human, animal, sapient magical beast, or anything. Geas are especially useful in that they're not actually codified by words, but by intent. If the intent of both parties matches, then the pact is sealed. There's no bullshit wordplay loopholes or technicalities.

  Not that she supports the practice, of course, but it really does work in her favor here. She has gathered one sneaky little trick the Director pulled, though: no one but the two of them and Krastev know about it. Willow is completely in the dark, and she can't tell her because of the 'no exposing occult dealings' part. That trick is firmly in the Director's self-interest, though, and not the 'fuck Vale up' zone.

  With so much going relatively well, Laurel has even allowed herself to fantasize about where she's going, and what she wants to happen. First things first: keep working for Counter-Magic. Beg them to stay, if she has to, even if it means doing nothing but kissing asses and rings. It means she's doing what the only people who could reasonably hurt her want her to.

  After that... She's certain that the Director will try and mutually end the geas at some point, and hopefully by then she'll have established herself as a professional doormat who will still be allowed to work at Counter-Magic and not thrown back into prison. From there... she could start her research again in her off time. Normal research, of course. Take long walks. Meet a nice lady, someone like Willow, and settle down, finally opening up that little shop of hers that's dominated her mind for years...

  Laurel blinks back to reality, and sees she's been staring directly at Willow while entertaining her daydreams. She turns her head away, flustered. Why the hell did her mind go to Willow? Laurel's fairly certain she's not going to date anyone working for this shithole military, whatever their reason. Then again... Laurel works here herself.

  "Willow?"

  "What's up? You zoned out for a bit."

  "Sorry. Just... lost in thought." After a moment, Laurel looks back to Willow. "Why do you work for Counter-Magic?"

  Willow shrugs. "Because I nearly flunked out of high-school, but scored an eighty-one on the AFQT I took on a lark. It's really not any more complicated than that."

  "At least there's job security, right?"

  Willow laughs. "Yeah, I guess so. I don't plan on being here forever, though. I've got my GED, and I'm thinking of going into a trade in a few years. Thirty-two is past my prime, you know?"

  "Ouch."

  "You know what I mean. Are you gonna stay after you're free?"

  As long as she doesn't mention geas, she can talk about a general deal. "Yeah. I'm not sure Counter-Magic would let me leave, you know? I have an arrangement where as long as I work for the big CM, I stay out of jail. Once I'm eighty-two and my sentence is up, though, look out, world."

  "Damn. I thought it was gonna be a few years, then you're done, honestly."

  "Yeah, well, it means sleeping under blankets at night."

  At seeing Garza waving her over, Laurel politely excuses herself before sitting down next to him. "Yes, sir?"

  Garza sticks a headset onto Laurel, and slides the laptop in front of her. On display is a video feed, a bodycam of some kind, in the middle of the woods.

  "Hello?" Laurel says, looking to Garza in bemusement.

  A firm voice sounds over the headset, slightly disrupted by background noise. "Reading you, this is Captain Sixgill, you're our occult specialist?"

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  "Oh, uhh, I dunno about specialist.."

  "We're on an op. Can you tell us what this thing is? Time's a factor." The captain points the camera to a bizarre symbol on the floor of a seemingly normal house.

  "Oh, that's..." Shit, again? Same problem, this is something she never officially said she knew. "I don't know. Looks kind of like a necromancy divination circle, but I don't know enough to say otherwise."

  "Thanks. That means we're on the right track. Sixgill out."

  Towards the end of the day, Garza rallies everyone together, whistling for everyone's attention. All heads turn to him, as he looks across his task force. "Let's get something straight. Everyone, show me your panic buttons. Now."

  There's some murmuring, as about half of the people show them. Baker, Xavier, and Willow don't, among others.

  "Thought so. Where's your button, Baker?"

  Baker sticks his hands in his pockets. "Feels a little pointless. Vale's not dangerous."

  "Xavier?" Garza continues.

  He takes a long puff from his vape. "She cried yesterday when I told her about the bird that flew into the window. Yeah, real monster right there."

  "And how about you, Willow? As her supervisor, don't you think that maybe you should keep an eye on her?"

  "We live in the same house."

  "Mhmm... Alright, everyone, you're free to go."

  Laurel and Willow walk out together, casually chatting about the day.

  Garza, meanwhile, shares a silent look with Fisher.

  Willow opens the fridge door, disappointed by the contents. "Hey, Laurel?"

  "What's up?"

  "I had a block of cheese in here."

  "...okay, I forgot what cheddar tasted like, and then I got excited, so-"

  "You ate a whole block of cheese? Laurel, your stomach is gonna-"

  "I know. I accept the consequences."

  Willow rolls her eyes, settling on a snack of crackers, minus the cheese. "So, how's work?"

  "Fine. I feel bad for you, though. You don't really have anything to do since I'm so well-behaved."

  "I'm never going to complain about an easy day in this line of work.

  Laurel runs her hand along the soft couch. "Willow, I'm getting enough money to afford my own place."

  Willow seems surprised by the revelation. "...oh."

  "Yeah. I know you're not looking to stay in Counter-Magic forever, so-"

  "I'm not leaving anytime soon. I like having someone else around, honestly. Makes me feel better about my sister... do you have any siblings?"

  "I thought I projected my only child energy pretty well. I can stay here, if you want. I'll bark at intruders."

  With a laugh, Willow plops onto the couch next to Laurel, holding on to the box of crackers. "Hey, Laurel, if you didn't have to work at Counter-Magic, what would you do?"

  "...I don't really wanna think about it. I already have so much more freedom than I did in Magimax, so I want to keep my mind occupied on what is, and what realistically can be."

  "I get it. Sorry."

  "Don't be. I'm hanging out with a friend, watching TV. I literally used to fantasize about this."

  Willow takes her hands, and gives them a squeeze. Laurel accepts it without a word. She's so touch-starved that she'd take a kick in the shin, if it meant another person's contact.

  And this is a lot nicer than a kick.

  Krastev takes forceful steps into the meeting room. California's MBR Director, Garza, and Fisher are already here, as expected. He finds the sole spot at the table where he isn't sitting next to any of the three, and rests an arm on the table. "Well, what is it?" he asks, checking his watch.

  Garza clears his throat, and stands. "We're ahead of schedule. We'll have this wrapped up in a month, tops. Vale is working with us. She's being too cooperative in public, though, while remaining skeptical of Counter-Magic as a whole. Half the team aren't even bothering with the buttons. Her supervisor has taken a liking to her charge, too, despite what we originally believed."

  "Despite what you believed," Krastev corrects.

  "Mmm. Before I forget, congratulations, Lt. Colonel Krastev."

  Krastev doesn't respond, so Garza continues. "Where was I... yes, Sergeant Valley in particular is interfering on my attempts to drag more information from Vale. I suggest she be reassigned before this gets out of hand."

  "Denied," Krastev answers. "I've been against your little side-plan from the start, Garza. I have experience with this exact situation, so I'll tell you the same thing I told that bastard Norwood before he was discharged: stop fucking with her. Vale is on our side, even if she's justifiably skeptical of you. Stop trying to assert control, and let this be. You and Fisher, out. I need to speak with the Director."

  Fisher and Garza share a brief look, and head to the door. The Director whispers something in Fisher's ear on the way out, and then smiles at Krastev once they're alone. "Well, this was productive."

  "Director, be honest with me. You owe me that after I've kept your secrets. What exactly is your plan for Vale after you find what you're looking for?"

  The Director takes a flask of something from his suit jacket, taking a swig before answering. "I haven't decided... she's valuable, certainly, but she knows more than I'd like her to. Worse, Garza has been a complete failure, and now I'm not certain I'll have enough leverage to send her back, especially with your pet project supervising."

  "Isn't that a shame. Why do you care what happens to Vale, anyway?

  The Director puts the flask back in his jacket. "You don't find her understanding of such a broad range of magical disciplines curious?"

  "That's not an answer."

  "No, I suppose not, not for someone outside my field of expertise... Let's just say I don't like the way she looks at me. Have a good day, Lt. Colonel." The Director stands, and leaves Krastev alone in the room.

  Krastev makes a quick phone call. He can't get afford to get too distracted by some Magimax convict, even if she's a savant, but he can at least get someone else to keep an eye on her. The last thing Counter-Magic- no, the world needs is that slimy bastard's scheming.

  Willow grumbles to herself as she turns around in bed, exhausted, but unable to sleep. She looks at the bottle of melatonin pills on her nightstand, half empty and yet to be useful.

  She checks the time. 2am. It's been two hours. She wonders if her resident magician can help. There's gotta be a spell for this, right?

  She quietly enters Laurel's room, despite being here to wake Laurel up. She gently rests a hand on Laurel's shoulder, hesitating. Maybe she should just try and go back to sleep.

  Laurel stirs slightly in her sleep, and gently pins Willow's hand between her neck and shoulder. Cute. So cute. "Hey... Laurel..."

  Laurel's eyes slowly drift open, followed by her stumbling out of bed and putting her hands on the nearest wall for a moment.

  It really is like watching an abused puppy. "Hey, it's just me. Sorry for waking you, but do you have a, I dunno, sleep spell?"

  Laurel slowly takes her hands from the wall. "I know a sigil for that."

  "Great, that'd be perfect."

  "...you really trust me to cast a sigil on you?"

  "That's why I woke you up. Sorry about that, by the way."

  "Oh, it's fine. Routine leads to ritual, so they'd occasionally blast a really loud sound to wake me up in the middle of the night so I couldn't make a ritual out of sleeping. Let's get you to bed."

  Willow nods, trying not to think of the horrors Laurel has had to go through until now. She lies down in her bed, and looks up at Laurel. "Okay, I'm ready."

  "Great. Just stay still." Laurel presses a finger to Willow's forehead, and slowly starts dragging her finger around it. It feels a little weird, but doesn't seem to be doing anything. She does have really soft fingers, though, and it's oddly relaxing. "Hey, are-"

  Laurel finishes the sigil, cutting Willow off mid-sentence. She tucks Willow in, and smiles at the peacefully snoozing woman in front of her. She turns off the lights on the way out, and shuffles back to bed herself. Willow will get up with the alarm clock, so no reason to worry about a delayed Wake sigil. She falls back into her absurdly comfortable bed, sighing with delight as she sinks into the plush mattress, and falls asleep herself in only a few minutes.

  "Another day, another dawn," Laurel says, as she steps out of the car with Willow.

  "Every day has a dawn," she replies.

  "You're setting me up for something depressing. You know that, right?"

  "Sorry." Willow holds the door open for her friend, humming to herself as they enter.

  The place isn't a nest of activity like usual; the cacophony now replaced by the previously unheard low hum of the overhead lights. Instead is a man unknown to either Willow or Laurel, stretched back in Garza's usual chair and reading from what looks to be some kind of handbook.

  He sets down the handbook as soon as the door closes behind the two women. "Good morning," he says, in a painfully Boston accent.

  "Where is everyone?" Willow asks, reaching for the door.

  "Told them all there was a maintenance problem that needed fixing. They'll all be an hour late. But you're wondering who I am. Second Lieutenant Mikey Amato, under Lt. Colonel Krastev." He flings his military ID over to Willow, but it goes wide, striking the wall a good six feet away.

  With a few hesitant side-steps, Willow picks it up to see for herself. Satisfied, she walks up to him and returns the ID. "And what are you here for? Also, tell Krastev congratulations on the promotion."

  "Ehhhh. I'm not gonna do that, he's wicked pissed about somethin'... I'm here cuz of you two. Mostly the creepy one."

  "Why does everyone call me creepy..?" Laurel asks, to which she receives a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Willow.

  "Cuz you're an occultist. Black magic and all that creepy shit. Krastev's worried about yous both, but he's busy, and I'm not. Krastev's got a plan, and I'm here to execute it."

  "Why?" Laurel asks.

  "Krastev said you'd be skeptical. Not a surprise. Thing is, lady, those guys who fucked you over in the first place? They forgot about you. Krastev said I ain't supposed to say that, but yous two can keep a secret."

  Forgot about her? It's been two years, and they sentenced her to fifty. They can't just not care about her being released... right? "That... no, they..."

  Mikey stands up from the chair, quickly checking the time on his watch. "You think Krastev was the mastermind behind all this? Some major in Utah who personally wanted to fuck wit' you? Nope, it was someone else, but saying who would get me in trouble."

  Laurel goes quiet. This is... too convenient. But why is Krastev going around his superior's wishes, even if they don't care, on her account? There are too many unknowns here to go off of... "What do you need me to do?"

  "Right now? Nothin'. Just keep ya self on the straight and narrow like you have been. Got it?"

  She nods, but her eyes don't look up. "I understand."

  "Great. I gotta go, but have a good day. Oh, and don't trust Fisher, but you didn't hear that from me."