[ Please read the kickoff post before commenting! ] 

Webb considered Ariadne’s offer, casually looking up the restaurant on their phone in a show of deliberation. The reviews seemed decent. No one-star reviews proclaiming that the servers dragged them into a hidden back room for ritual purposes. ‘Locally sourced’ could be hit-or-miss with some places near the valley, but Webb could always opt for the veggie burger, just in case.

“Sure,” they said. “Dinner and drinks sounds fantastic. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date, anyway.” They exaggerated the tone of that as they stretched out and stood up, amusing themself with watching the way Faraday’s expression became slightly put-upon, his brows creasing.

“Hmph. You’re not worried about being in her debt?” Faraday asked, stepping aside to let Ariadne rise up as well.

“If it were that easy to gain actual sway over someone, everyone would be doing it,” Webb said, grabbing their raincoat from the hook near the door. “I’m sure you know all about the particulars of contracts and deals, Mr. Witch. It’s a simple verbal exchange: you’re offering information and dinner, I’ve agreed to accompany and listen for the duration thereof.”

“And I don’t mean anything by it,” Ariadne pipes up, nudging Faraday lightly. “Don’t be prickly and make things worse.”

Webb half expected Faraday to continue protesting, but he just sighed and leaned over, dropping a brief kiss on the top of Ariadne’s helmet. “You’re right,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I’m just… worried.”

“You do overthink things when you’re anxious.” Ariadne took his hand and squeezed it.

Webb glanced away, busying themself with their phone again. The restaurant was about a fifteen minute walk from here, in roughly the opposite direction from where Webb lived—a little outside their usual stomping grounds, but not far. They wouldn’t be stranded if anything strange happened.

“Are we walking?” they asked, opening the door and gesturing for the others to step out first.

Ariadne nodded, stepping past, waiting in the hall for Faraday to join her. “I rode here, but I can only carry one passenger. I parked nearby. We can walk back here after to pick up my bike.”

“Let me guess, your witch here has it charmed and protected for you?” Webb asked as they locked up.

“He has!” Ariadne enthused. “He’s amazing.”

“Ria…” Faraday mumbled, looking visibly flustered, in that pleased, faux-humble sort of way that Webb couldn’t stand. They let out a visible huff of breath that curled in the chill air.

The sound of rain pattering along the metallic eaves was even louder out here. It was barely past six o’clock, but the heavy cloud cover meant that the late autumn evening was already deepening into heavy twilight. Webb tugged their hood down a little to shield their sunglasses from the drizzle.

“And what is it that you specialize in, Mr. Witch?” Webb asked casually to break the sudden lull in conversation, leading the way down the narrow stairwell to the street.

Witches were typically humans who had either lived on the other side of the gate their entire lives, or who possessed some sort of magical ancestry dating back somewhere in their lineage—witch blood. Although there were common spells, rituals, and shared knowledge, most witches had a particular specialty, the way that they chose to channel their magic. Webb had met witches of all sorts: nature witches, baking witches, some that used crystals, other who manipulated the ebb and flow of social media engagement. Like to charge, reblog to cast.

How a witch worked often said at least a little about who they were as a person and what made them tick.

To Webb’s surprise, Faraday answered openly. “Threadwork,” he said. “I sell a lot of patchwork and embroidery charms. Protection and luck, mostly.”

“Oh, that does explain the… attire,” Webb observed dryly. Faraday’s outer coat was a patchwork rainbow thing that nevertheless presented a dazzling, cohesive whole: delicate embroidery around the hems, eyes and sigils and magical creatures poking out of pockets or chasing each other across the breadth of his wide shoulders.

As Webb watched, they noticed that the rain simply wasn’t touching Faraday at all—his unnecessarily luxurious hair was perfectly dry, and his boots gleamed.

“It’s been a personal project of some years,” Faraday agreed.

“And how exactly did a stitch ‘n bitch witch end up privy to vampire games?”

Faraday grimaced slightly and glanced aside at Ariadne. Ah.

“Let’s maybe wait until we’re somewhere a little more private,” Ariadne said, putting a gloved hand on Faraday’s arm and squeezing.

Webb didn’t really mind at this point, but honestly, these two. “I’m sort of getting the impression that you haven’t done this a lot before,” they said dryly. “This whole do-gooder, come-with-me-if-you-want-to-live routine.”

“Oh,” Ariadne said weakly, their soft voice still muffled. “No, I mean. No. It was sort of… an accident. But you could tell?”

“Yeah, you’re dreadful at it,” Webb sighed, turning in a lazy circle as they walked, arms outstretched. “Simultaneously cagey and altruistic. Nobody trusts anybody around here. Or at least they shouldn’t, if they want to stay safe. Of course I’m going to question what you’re telling me.”

Ariadne hugged her elbows. Faraday wrapped an arm around her shoulders. His expression was thoughtful this time, quiet.

“I know,” Ariadne said after a moment. “I mean… yeah. I don’t really know what I’m doing. But I need to do something. You know?”

“I don’t know,” Webb said firmly. “But I certainly intend to find out.”

The route to the Witch’s Brewery took them deeper into the valley. The streets became narrower, more active—in a lot of districts in the area, the night life really thrived. It wasn’t long before they made it to the restaurant, a sprawling thing with vaulted ceilings and a warehouse aesthetic. Enormous, kitschy fake spiderwebs were strung between the ceiling beams, and each table had a little cluster of candles that created a dim, intimate pool of light in the atmospheric gloom.

Webb jammed their hands in their pockets and slouched a little more aggressively as Faraday graciously engaged the hostess and arranged for their table. They’d cracked a joke about not having been on a date in a while, but they genuinely couldn’t remember the last time they’d actually gone out for dinner with someone. All of their recent partners, frequent but fleeting, had been pick-ups from bars or the Bonegrindr app (“Find your boo and don’t get ghosted!”), and to call them one night stands would be significantly overstating how long Webb let the interactions last.

This was the polar opposite of a date, but Faraday was inconsiderately handsome and Ariadne had a banging bod and a literal je ne sais quoi going on. Plus, the two were obviously fucking.

Webb pulled up the menu on their phone and started to resentfully scan for the most expensive things they could possibly order.

“Right this way, please,” said the server, leading the way to a curved booth near the back of the room. Webb felt a spike of anxiety, quickly followed by a swell of appreciation as Ariadne immediately slid in and put herself in the middle, leaving Webb and Faraday to sit on either end.

“Nice place,” Webb commented after the server took their drink orders and headed off. “I particularly dig the fake spiderwebs.”

“I don’t think they’re fake,” Faraday mused, looking up.

“… so anyway,” Webb said after a pause, “is this finally private enough for you? I’m not going into a back room even if that’s an option, by the way.”

Ariadne sighed, folding her arms on the table and slumping forward slightly. “This is enough,” she said quietly. “You have to understand, all this has the possibility to be dangerous for us, too. But…”

She reached up and unfastened her helmet, easing it off. Webb, who had expected some kind of weird and hilarious pantomime when their drinks arrived, was briefly caught off guard, staring openly.

Ariadne was exquisite, because of course she was—this was just part of how Webb was meant to suffer. Her eyes were a startlingly vivid ruby red, her ivory skin bloodlessly pale. The little bumps on the top of the helmet suddenly made a lot of sense: she had two blackened little horn nubs poking up from the peak of her high brow.

As Webb watched, she self-consciously patted at her pale hair, fingercombing it back from her face and giving him an awkward smile, lips curving back over sharp incisors.

“Sorry,” she said. “Um. Helmet hair.”

“Yeah, that was definitely what I was looking at,” Webb said dryly. “Honestly, vampire seemed like the obvious choice, but I was sort of holding out for dullahan, still.” They were still staring at her, unable to pull their attention away.

She was gazing back, wide-eyed and nervous. “Faraday and I dated a dullahan once,” she stammered.

“Oh yeah? How was the head?”

“Can we please,” Faraday breathed out, pained, “focus.”

Webb was rescued by the server coming by with their drinks. It gave them an excuse to turn their attention onto something else for a moment, taking a deep breath to reset. They drained half the pint in one go before setting it back down with finality.

Then they let out a helpless laugh. Ariadne had grasped hers in both hands and still had it tilted back, chugging the entire thing in one go.

“Okay, okay,” Webb said helplessly, shoulders still shaking. “Take your time.”

Ariadne gulped, then gasped a breath as she slammed the now-empty tankard down on the table. “Listen,” she said breathlessly. “Grimm is my sire. Our clan operates far enough outside the valley that they’ve been getting away with… with a lot of really dreadful things over the years. Eventually it became too much for me, and I ran away. That was years ago. But recently I happened to find out that they’re—they’re getting worse. And that you were involved, and you were in trouble.”

She drew in a deep breath, squeezing her hands together in a tight grasp, worrying at her lower lip with one fang as she met Webb’s gaze. “I thought, if you were a good person, you probably didn’t deserve what might happen to you. And… and I thought, maybe you’d be willing to help. If I decided to stop running away and decided to do something about Grimm once and for all.”

[Please suggest or +1 an action in the comments.

As a reminder, it can be thoughts, words, deeds, or curiosities!]

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[ Please read the kickoff post before commenting! ] 

There really was no question in Webb’s mind about whether or not they’d hear these two out, regardless of their intentions. Webb couldn’t imagine being able to sleep at night without learning more about what was going on. It went against everything they prided themselves on as a dedicated Batflix binge-watcher.

“The Grimm clan,” they echoed, resting their chin on their hand and looking between Dapper and Motorcycle Helmet with bemusement. “They don’t exactly operate much around here.”

Vampire clans weren’t anything to trifle with; Webb knew and respected that, of course. On this side of the gate, vampire lords were some of the most dangerous monsters you could come across, both from a personal power standpoint as well as their social and political influence as leaders of their respective clans.

Here in Hallow Point, the crowded valley-adjacent town that Webb called home, there weren’t a ton of big-name power players like there might be in, say, New York, or Paris, or (for some strange reason) Mississauga. But there was a hierarchy, and there were clans and groups and territories that operated within it, and as far as Webb knew, the Grimm clan simply wasn’t one of them.

“No,” Motorcycle Helmet acknowledged, fiddling compulsively with the ends of her hair. Webb watched the gesture, thoughtful. “They’re mostly based further to the northeast, in some of the mountain towns. But Lord Grimm has been getting more… um. Ambitious, in recent years.”

“And his ambitions somehow factor in me?” Webb let out a little laugh. “Darling. Look around. I’m a lightweight. A tiny feral kitten. I run Baby’s First Adventure tours. I send people out to trap wolpertingers and set up scarecrows for were-ravens. I’m not the kind of broker that arranges vampire assassinations. Why would Grimm have a bone to pick with me?”

All true, as much as it made Webb grimace a little to admit. There wasn’t a lot of pride or glory in their work. They knew they had the potential for more. And maybe sometimes they found the end of an interesting thread of information and longed to pull on it to see what would unravel—

But they never did. Dramatic adventures only ended in tragedy. They stayed out of trouble and did their best to ensure trouble stayed well away from them.

“Well,” Motorcycle Helmet pointed out, “if that is true… maybe that’s why. You’re not a big enough deal to retaliate. And the people you work with aren’t strong, right? So they’d be easier to hurt.”

There was an unpleasant ringing sound in Webb’s ears, an ashen taste in the back of their throat. They bit the inside of their cheek, fiddling with one of their lip piercings until they faintly tasted copper instead. Thoughts buzzed through their mind in spiteful sequence.

“… who are you?” they asked finally, chafing their palms together in annoyance. Buying themself time. “I mean, say I believe you. I don’t, not yet, but pretend I do, for a minute. How’d you find out about this? Why’d you decide to help me? And what do you need my help for?”

Dapper smiled like he thought Webb’s slight capitulation meant he’d won this round, or something. Webb seethed a little. “My name is Faraday. This lovely one is Ariadne.”

“That can’t be your real name,” Webb muttered sidelong at Motorcycle Helmet.

She tilted her head to the side. “It is now. Has Webb always been yours?”

“—you know what? That’s fair. I deserved that. Ariadne it is.”

Faraday was still talking: “I’ve lived not far from here for the past few years, though I spent a fair amount of time on the other side of the gate prior to that, of course.”

“Is that so?” Webb did lean a little further towards him at that, giving Faraday another scrutinizing look. Unfortunately, although plenty of the denizens of the valley and from beyond the gate were recognizably other—serpentine bodies, horns, tails, you name it—others could appear completely, unremarkably human. All Faraday had going on was his perfect hair and his stupid fancy coat.

“Faraday is a witch,” Ariadne piped up, and honestly, bless her and her apparent need to compulsively share information at all times. “Though that’s not… I mean, I’m the one who learned about this. Faraday is just… helping me.”

Webb filed that first bit away for later: witches could be good news or bad news, honestly. They sighed, leaning back in their chair and bracing their sneakers against the edge of the desk, making it creak as they rocked perilously back and forth. “Alright,” they drawled, “so you’re the I-knew-she-was-trouble-when-she-walked-in dame in distress in this scenario, then. You and the helmet you’re mysteriously refusing to take off.”

Ariadne touched her gloved hand to the motorcycle visor. “And you’re wearing mirrored sunglasses and a toque and a hood indoors. I think we all have our secrets here don’t we?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Webb offered.

Ariadne hesitated, glancing aside to Faraday, who looked a little concerned. “… really?” she ventured after a moment.

“No,” Webb said blithely. They dropped forward again, their chair wheels rattling, and picked up their phone. “Listen. You’ve obviously got a lot going on here, and I’m prepared to do business at this point, but you’re going to need to sweeten the pot a little.”

“Sweeten the pot?” Faraday echoed, visibly affronted. Webb got the impression that people didn’t tell him ‘no’ very often. “We have come to warn you that you’re in danger. The Inquisitors may be coming for you as we speak. We have absolutely no obligation…!”

The Inquisitors. That idea admittedly did give Webb a little bit of a chill. The valleys didn’t exactly do law enforcement, not really: humans and their laws stayed in their lane, and the closer you got to the gate, the more that safety and order was maintained by interlocking structures of territory, power, making the right allies, and keeping your head down. Contract law was a whole thing, sure—but Webb made very sure they were always on the right side of their contracts.

But in some towns that spilled over into a valley, like Hallow Point, it was natural that new organizations might spring up. The Inquisitors were one such faction, usually called in to deal with those who were a significant danger to the safety of others. Even though Webb had a clean record, the Inquisitors didn’t exactly have a reputation for their fair trials and their compassionate willingness to negotiate.

If the Inquisitors thought that Webb was putting others in danger, that was a big problem. But even more than that—if it were true, and Webb was responsible—

They realized they’d fallen silent, staring at their hands, and that Faraday was still talking, and that Ariadne was still watching them from behind that mirrored helmet visor.

“Listen,” they said, raising their voice over Faraday’s, sitting up straight and feeling their spine crackle in protest. “Before we move on, I have one very important question. Come here. Come closer.”

“… yes?” Ariadne prompted nervously, leaning in, eager and a bit uncertain.

Webb slid their phone across the desk, tapping one finger on the screen. “I’m starving, and I can’t decide. What do you think? Tacos? Burgers? There’s a couple of these places I haven’t tried. You said you lived nearby. Any recommendations?”

Faraday opened his mouth, then closed it again, and rubbed his face with one hand. Ariadne was silent for a moment, then began to laugh.

“Oh, there’s this place I really like,” she said. “The Witch’s Brewery. Amazing craft beer.”

“Nice,” Webb said casually, spinning the phone around to face them again. “Not on the app, though. Do they do delivery…?”

“… why don’t we go out together?” Ariadne suggested, tone thoughtful. “You said you wanted me to sweeten the pot. How about it? Dinner and drinks on me, and I’ll tell you anything else you want to know.”

[Please suggest or +1 an action in the comments.

As a reminder, it can be thoughts, words, deeds, or curiosities!]

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[ Please read the kickoff post before commenting! ] 

“Just sign here on the dotted line and you’ll be all set.” 

It was a Friday afternoon. Webb sat across the table from a trio of would-be thrill-seekers—adventurers, investigators, hunters, whatever these ones wanted to call themselves—drumming their fingers on their desk in time to the pattering of rain outside their window and trying not to look too impatient. 

This would be their final sale for the week: one that would make the very important distinction between being able to spring for a nice hot pizza delivery or having to jockey for discount sushi of questionable origins on their way home. Webb was very invested.

And their clients seemed to be getting cold feet.

“You know,” Webb pointed out reasonably, drawing the group’s attention back from where they’d begun to mutter to each other, “just because you’re buying the intel doesn’t mean you have to use it. Though, if I may say so myself, it is an interesting job…”

“You say that, but we don’t know,” responded one of them gruffly. A lycanthrope of some kind, Webb would wager, judging by the slightly shaggy appearance and the way his hackles raised when Webb raised their eyebrows. “If you told us what it was…”

“If I told you what it was prior to payment,” Webb said very patiently, “I would not be making very much money in my business of selling information. Once I’ve told you something, I can’t very well take it back, hmm?”

That wasn’t quite the truth. But they didn’t need to know that.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” said one of the others, a brunet with a steely disposition. She patted her companion on the arm when he continued to grumble. She picked up the pen, giving Webb a small smile. “He’s just a little protective, that’s all. We’ve heard this line of work can be quite dangerous, but…” 

Webb flashed her a smile, feeling momentarily grateful that she wouldn’t be able to see their eyes behind their sunglasses. “It can be dangerous,” they admit. “But that’s part of the whole thing, right? Money, power, fame, keeping the peace, dispensing justice… there’s lots of reasons people come looking to get into the business. You’ll figure out quickly enough if it’s for you.”

The brunette nodded, turning the pen around in her fingers and examining it closely, watching the way the green-gold wisps of magic ghosted around the tip. “One way or another, hmm?”

“One way or another,” Webb echoed. Indeed.

The brunette signed the contract, then handed it to the others, who also signed with minimal lingering complaints. Webb gave them all another smile, accepting their pen back and signing their own name with a flourish; the pen gave off a pulse of light that formed into a plume, leaving lingering motes dissipating in the air as its enchantment sealed the contract as binding.

“Now,” Webb said, feeling much more pleasant about the whole situation now that dinner was secured, “we can begin. In the town of Tranquil Hollow, about two hours north from here, there have been reports of nocturnal housebreaks…”

Webb felt pretty good about this one, all things considered, as they ran through the details. Their source for this investigation was one they’d worked with many times before. Petty break-and-enter cases in small towns were usually simple enough to sort out, but would build their confidence. Webb was in the business of making repeat clientele, not instant regrets, after all. 

They entertained a few more questions, exchanged a few more pleasantries, and finally oozed back in their chair with a long sigh of relief once the group had seen themselves out. With a little flick of their pen, Webb sent the contract slithering across the desk and into the filing cabinet and began to gather together their belongings for the night.

The bell over their door jingled.

“The divorce curse removal specialists are next door,” Webb said immediately, without looking up, already starting to scroll through their phone. Pizza had been their first thought, but the Pizza Hut nearby had grown legs a few months ago and had a tendency to wander off, so their delivery times were unpredictable these days. Maybe HexMex instead…?

“… oh,” said a quiet voice from the door. “No, I’m not here to curse anybody. Or uncurse anybody. No curses. I was looking for you. You’re Mx. Webb, aren’t you? The quest broker?”

Ugh. Webb hated that term. Quest. Something coined by idiots who thought there was some kind of grand purpose or calling associated with hunting vampires that got a little too murder-happy or clearing out rampant pixie infestations from vegetable gardens.

It hadn’t always been like this. About two decades back, the mundane world had undergone an abrupt transformation as rifts spontaneously opened up across pretty much every continent, connecting the “normal” world with the worlds beyond, and all the strange magic and creatures that lived within them. Most of the strangeness stayed more-or-less contained within the Uncanny Valleys that formed around the rifts, but some of it bled out into the cities and towns closely around them… which was where Webb’s work often came in.

“I deal with paranormal jobs and information and the exchange and selling thereof, and I am closed,” Webb said. “And by appointment only. You can fill out a form on my site.”

“Oh, good,” was the answer, and although it was a bit of a weird one, Webb thought that was the end of that, until they heard the door close, followed by a creak as someone sat down in the chair across from them.

Webb spun around in their chair to face the Person Who Couldn’t Take a Hint and discovered that it was, in fact, Two People Who Couldn’t Follow Basic Instructions. The one in the chair was slim and curvy, dressed from head to toe in black riding leathers and wearing a helmet with two small protuberances on top. Webb swore they’d seen something like that in an anime, once. All that Webb could make outside from that was their long blond hair, and the way they leaned forward onto the desk, posture tense and eager.

The other stranger was resentfully handsome, tall and broad-shouldered. He had warm brown skin and an absolute mane of long, wavy dark hair that cascaded over the shoulders of his long, brilliantly patterned and brightly-colored coat, and Webb hated him on sight.

“We do apologize for the disturbance, but we have some news for you that we think you’d very much benefit from hearing,” said the Dapper Man. His voice was deep and warm and rich, and he didn’t actually sound sorry at all.

“I also take tip submissions online,” Webb said, the phone in their hand practically vibrating with the force of their knee jumping up and down with agitation. “So if you really don’t mind—”

“You’re being used,” blurted Motorcycle Helmet. “The Grimm clan has been feeding you tainted information, and using it to lead people into deadly traps, and the Inquisitors are starting to look into it and are going to trace it back to you..! You’re in danger, Mx. Webb.”  

Webb fell still. The rain continued its persistent dreary pattern against the glass, and for a moment, it was the only sound in the room.

“… that was a lot of information all at once,” said the Dapper Man in that damnably gentle tone, putting a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “But… she’s right. We’re just here to help, and… well, to ask for your help as well. Please, give us a chance.”

[Please suggest an action in the comments.

As a reminder, it can be thoughts, words, deeds, or curiosities!]

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[Author’s Notes / Story Q&A]

Thank you, everyone, for joining me in Final Call! Whether you hopped in or just read (or are reading this in the future), I’m so grateful for your time and presence with me. It was a lot of fun to write, and I hope you enjoyed reading it!.

The final length of this story was almost 40,000 words (around 90 pages in gdocs)! Which is a lot, but I also achieved my goal of not trying to hit NaNo wordcounts during this hell year, lol. If and when you want to reread it, you’ll be able to find this story linked from my Interactive Fiction page. Feel free to check out some older interactive stories there too!

If you enjoyed the story and are looking for ways to support me and my work, you can learn about and pick up my books over here. Read some already? Leaving a good rating or review on Goodreads or Amazon can make all the difference. I’ve also got a tip jar over at Ko-Fi if you’d like to buy me a drink! And please, feel free to follow me on social media to see what I’m up to: Personal Twitter and Book Twitter.

Now that that’s done—let’s do a story Q&A! Feel free to ask me anything you want about the story, whether it’s about what my writing process was, how I got the idea for certain events or characters, things people may have suspected but not had confirmed, other ‘routes’, etc. Wonder what would have happened if you’d done X instead of Y? Ask it here! (Lurkers are totally allowed to ask too, you don’t need to have participated to ask!).

I think, also, the story managed to hit the full list of tropes you turned in way back at the beginning, whether in the play within the story or within the story itself. We had a betrayal, a monster who-isn’t-that-monstrous, unrequited love AND secret longing, a costume that’s more than a costume, a duel, a sudden earthquake, a key that refuses to be used, two characters mistaken for each other because of their startling resemblance, crossdressing for flimsy plot purposes and, of course, an emotionally-fraught kiss.

Thank you once again… and happy Halloween!

[Ask Me Some Questions, I’ll Tell You No Lies]