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Star stepped aside into the men’s room so that he wouldn’t risk anyone running into him, pulling himself up on the sink counter to sit. He swallowed, feeling too emotionally raw, too honest. He wanted to call Dom or Dandelion, hear their voice, but he also didn’t want to be speaking and add one more element that could break his glamour.

He texted Dom back first: I’m really worried, Dom. These people are willing to kill, and if you’re not a benefit, you’re a loose end. It sounds like Viv has gotten hold of a guy with some kind of protection magic, so meet me at the Twilight Council Community Association building? My heart says you should be going into hiding, but if nothing else, we’re gonna get some kind of protection against mind control on you, k?

Thumb hovering over the send icon, Star hesitated a few moments, then just tapped it. There was nothing that expunging his fears could gain here. He shook himself, then just sent Viv a quick text as well: Ok, on my way.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he began to briskly walk down the hall, sticking to the walls as much as he could, peeking into rooms. It was quickly apparent there wasn’t much he could do here, not without being willing to take risks while everyone was running around. He saw Heronika dashing past on her way outside and let her go, hoping that Georgio was able to talk to her, like they’d discussed.

Ugh, maybe he should talk to Georgio about getting some kind of headset or other hands-free phone. But if he’d wanted one, he’d already have one. Most of those still needed buttons pressed, or had systems like Alexa, Siri, or Lilith in them, and Star didn’t trust any of those eavesdropping digital sneaks. Whatever, he’d mention it to Vayne if and when he called.

That same sulphurous tang of magic tickled his nostrils as he passed the offices, and he gave a quick jiggle of a doorknob, but it was locked up tight. A peek in the window didn’t show anyone inside, either. Not necessarily something too suspicious—there were certainly a few witches who worked here as well; how else would they have any magical protection against cheating or things like that? But he didn’t love it. He certainly couldn’t break in right now, not with the building so active. Maybe he should come back here later once the activity had died down, he thought, then remembered the flooded track out back; if the other nix was using it as a base, he probably shouldn’t come alone if so. 

Regardless, no point thinking too much about that now. When nothing else turned up on a quick scan, Star headed back outside, fetching his phone again. Every step was exhausting, and he didn’t dare transform to his other self to go faster, not when he needed to rest up. Instead he trudged toward the TCCA building on foot, letting the glamour fade once he was a few blocks away.

Once the glamour had faded entirely, Star auto-dialed Dandelion, waiting a ring and a half until Dandelion picked up. “Are you okay?” Dandelion asked. His voice sounded odd, which was normal; phones didn’t like to carry a sidhe lord’s voice and tried to shake the timbre of them as the signals traveled.

“I guess,” Star said, a bit strained. He felt a hitch in his voice as he inhaled and tried to ignore it. “I’m just worried. A bunch of people almost died and they were—the other nixie was specifically trying to drown someone in particular. Can you and your friend meet me and Dom at the TC? I’m gonna try to talk him into whatever safety measures he needs.”

A sigh that glitched out slightly. “Sorry. My friend doesn’t leave his home. He’s tentatively willing to host your friend, though, so if you can talk him into coming, I’ll give his address to you at that time.”

That was understandable. Without details, Star had to assume that Dandelion’s ‘friend’ was a fairly powerful monster. He wondered what Dandelion was offering to make this deal, but wasn’t going to ask, not when Dandelion was clearly still in the guy’s home and could be overheard. “Okay. I’ll see what he thinks.” He should probably say his farewells now, then, and get his ass over to the Twilight Council a bit more quickly. “I miss you,” Star blurted out instead.

A long pause, enough that he thought the phone might have given up entirely. Then, “Oh, my darling, my sweet Schaum, my perfect vassal,” Dandelion said, pained. “If he says no, I’ll come to you right away. You shan’t be without me much longer.”

Schaum was the name that Star had been giving out to people in lieu of his real name, back when he and Dandelion had first met. It meant foam, because Star had felt fragile then, ephemeral, ready to dissolve. He didn’t feel that far from it now, and he imagined Dandelion could tell. “Bye,” Star choked out, and hung up.

He put his head down, wiping tears from his eyes, and hurried onward.

The Twilight Council Community Association was an old building in a central location, with a big lobby that had pamphlets about What to do when you discover you’re a witch and So you’re magic! and that kind of thing. There was a big board where people could sign up for various apprenticeships or lessons, and a bunch of rooms for practice and council meetings in the back, though it also hosted community events like teaching different forms of spellcraft to see what was suited to a person, or old spellbook reading days, things like that. There was a receptionist, presumably who could help look people up or get them in touch; they were a demon, with black-flame eyes and curling red hair. They gave Star a cheerful wave when they entered. “Hi, can I help you today?”

“I’m meeting her,” Star said, pointing to Viv, who was sitting on a chair playing a mobile game while she waited. The receptionist nodded, and Viv looked up as Star slid in. 

“You good?” Viv asked. “Your message was …uhh, alarming?”

“Yeah, it was pretty fucking alarming at the time,” Star said. “I got bit. Your guy isn’t here?”

“Naw, he has a bakery nearby,” Viv said. “Loaf Portions, he’s a kitchen witch. He can do some brief protection spells and has a whole thing for protecting from mind-affecting magic specifically. Let me see your arm.”

Star showed her. She hissed. “Oh, that looks nasty,” she said.

“So you can’t do anything about it?”

“No, but I bet the baker has a bunch of stuff on hand. Small healing is probably a common need.” 

The door jingled, and the receptionist asked Dom the same question as he entered. He kind of waved and stammered a no thanks as he looked them over; right, even if he was down here a bunch now, he still didn’t interact with demons often. “Hey,” Dom said, taking Star’s hand, and looking at the bite mark. He seemed a bit queasy. “I’m …worried.”

“Yeah, me too,” Star said. He got up jerkily. “Show the way, Viv. The witch has a shop nearby,” he added to Dom, taking Dom’s hand with the injured arm.

It truly wasn’t a long trip, and they entered Loaf Portions to the smell of fresh-baked bread and cookies. The proprietor looked up; he was a Black man in his late twenties with braided hair over an undercut, the long parts pulled up into a high bun. “Hey, you must be Vivian and her friends?”

“That’s me,” Viv said. “Antoine Durand?”

“In the flesh,” he said. He called back over his shoulder, “Babe, are the Mind Macarons ready?”

“Yup, here!” A tray was passed forward from the back, a mid-20s white man with brown hair leaning over the kitchen counter to hand it off. 

Star couldn’t help but snort incredulously. “Mind Macarons?”

“I mean, it’s a catchy name that makes it easy to see what they do,” Antoine said cheerily. “Eat this, nobody will be able to read your mind or alter the contents for the next twelve hours. It’ll be $60 for the lot of 6, though. $120 for 12. I’ll toss in a slice of protection pie. It won’t actually stop any magic, but it’ll help make people a bit less likely to attack you if they aren’t specifically planning to. It’s a deterrent, not a shield, but can’t hurt, right?”

Dom winced, but dug out his wallet. “For sure. I appreciate it. And I’ll get all twelve. Ten dollars a pop isn’t so bad for magic, right? Thanks for the rush order.”

“No worries. Don’t like to hear about some witch in our community using that kind of magic anyway,” Antoine said. “Anything else while you’re here?”

Star showed his arm. “I got bit by a nixie. Shouldn’t be too bad, but do you have anything to prevent infection?”

“I got Feelgood Flatbreads,” Antoine said. “It’s not a full healing or anything, that’s not my specialty, but it’ll boost your healing and should act as a natural antibiotic. You might want to see a doctor, though.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Star said. “I’m fine, I’m a fairy.”

“You’ll be fine with just a bit of magic intention, then,” Antoine said. He bagged the bread. “Twenty for the loaf, and eat a slice every few hours until it’s healed enough you wouldn’t be applying topical creams normally.”

Dom butted in. “I’ll get that too,” he said, “add it in.”

Star was about to protest, but let it go. There was nothing worse than being ungenerous with a gift. “I appreciate it,” he said as Dom paid. Viv moved in to talk more to Antoine, trying to figure out if there was anything else they might need, and Star drew Dom to the side. “Dom… listen, I’m really, really worried.”

Taking a bite of a Mind Macaron—it was pink and Star’s nose told him it was rose, not strawberry—Dom made a bit of an unhappy face.  “I know. I am too. This is my track too, and my livelihood, and … I mean, it was already really personal to me before this. They dicked around in my mind. I want to help, Star. I want to help investigate this and see if I can help figure things out. But… I’ll go into hiding if you think it’s best.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to, though, I want to keep living my life. But I wasn’t at the track to see it attacked, and you were. So… whatever you think is best, I’ll go along with it.”

Star swallowed. Now he didn’t know which to do: rely on these macarons to take care of things and work together with Dom, or tuck him away safely with Dandelion’s friend… 

“I just want to keep you safe,” Star said, taking Dom’s hand between both of his own. 

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Star closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the stinging pain and the weight of exhaustion after that sudden life-or-death race. Distantly, he could hear Georgio calling for medical aid, something like Hey! We got blood over here, yeah?? Don’t know if fairies can get infected, don’t want to find out!

It wasn’t worth answering it. He hissed as one of the overtaxed EMTs, the group of whom must have arrived while he was underwater, came down next to him and lifted his arm, checking the injury.

“I’m fine,” he said, to whatever he was asked. 

“What bit you?”

Star was reluctant to say another nixie, not and maybe get blamed for some of this somehow. He hedged his answers. “I’m not positive. They were humanoid. Sharp teeth.” He could make his teeth sharp too, on whim, a partial transformation into his other form overlaid on this one. “I don’t think it was venomous. I’m not going into the hospital, so don’t ask, I’m otherwise uninjured.”

The EMT said, “It wouldn’t hurt to go in and get checked out, get a tetanus shot,” but it wasn’t like they could force Star to go. 

“I’ve had one in the last five years,” he lied. “I’ll get antibiotics later.” More like he’d get magical healing as a just-in-case, but the details were his to deal with.

With a Hmm, the EMT finished examining the wound. “Little debridement needed, I’ll just—” Those were tweezers. Star closed his eyes. “Bite’s not too deep. I’ll do a surface cleaning, but you want bleeding to stop before they’re irrigated, so I really do suggest going to a professional as soon as possible after this. You’re not the cleanest you’ve ever been.” That was an understatement. The water on the track had been filthy.

“I — ow,” Star complained, as saline water was washed over his wound. He focused, pulling his own magical water over his body and letting it splash down. “I’m clean. There.”

“Ah,” the EMT said, pained and human. “Well, okay, but really consider it, and definitely go if you see signs of infection. Puffiness, redness, warmth, pus, red streaks. I know nobody can tell a fairy what to do, though.” Someone called, and they nodded to Star. “Thanks for your work out there.”

Star hated being thanked, but humans meant well with it every time. He swallowed around the instinctive complaint. “Sure.”

The medic moved away and Georgio moved in. He smelled terrible, wet and sweaty bull, but he refrained from shaking himself. “Yo, what the fuck happened in there?”

What had happened? Why would someone want to drown folks? Or… was it even meant to be this many people pulled in? What if it was just the one, and the others were just coincidental, or even meant to cover up this particular attempted murder? The other nixie had only grabbed one person specifically, after all.

Star wondered if Garrett was the scheduler who had been used by the Suspicious Pair to double-book the lane so they could corner Dom. There was no way to know until he talked to Heronika, of course. Even so, why kill him so publicly—or would it just read as a freak accident if someone wasn’t already suspicious? There was enough damage that it certainly wouldn’t look targeted if someone ended up dying.

And what else would this flooding do? Washing the track out didn’t have any magical effect he could immediately think of, but the water would be standing for some time until they could find a way to pump it. That would provide a potential base for an aquatic creature. It would also take the track out of commission for a while. Would there be a reason to do that? 

He supposed that, if nothing else, it would make it hard to search the area for evidence. Even if it was only the track, not the clubhouse or anywhere else, the area was going to be swarming with cops, maintenance workers, and reporters—

“Shit,” Star muttered. The reporters would definitely be on their way soon, and if he didn’t want to lose a lot of today, he had to get himself gone. “Georgio…”

“Yeaaaaaaaaaaah?”

Slowly, Star looked up at Georgio. Those bullish eyes were concerned, heavy brows drawn down. He’d never liked Georgio, but… well, maybe it was time for that to change. The bull had really pulled his weight around here, and was clearly standing by him now. “Can you help me?”

He gave a brief rundown of the situation to Georgio, hoping it wasn’t too stammered or confused. “I don’t know what they want with me, or with my boss, or with Dom, but they’ve already shown they’re willing to kill,” Star finished, low-voiced and shaky. “I need to investigate, but there’s already people all over the place here, and I was… I guess… a bit of a rescuing hero here so people are gonna try to corner me to talk about it, I bet you anything. I don’t know if I can afford that much time. I should probably try to sneak out. But… there’s work that still needs doing here.”

Georgio let out a rough huff of breath. “This situation’s nuttier than a peanut butter factory,” he grumbled. “Listen, I’m willing, but I’m Vayne’s guy, you know? I need to work with Vayne and with the track out we’re gonna have to figure out what we’re gonna do together. I won’t always be able to jump to help you, but… yeah. I can ask ’round here right now. Check in with Heronika about that guy,” he nodded to where the unconscious Garrett was being bundled onto a stretcher, “see if I can find out anything about the dude in black and what they was doing here today.”

Relieved, Star patted his side. He took his phone out, shaking it and magically drawing every particle of water out from its insides. “Call me if you find anything.”

“I don’t got a phone, dude. I can’t hold shit, yeah?” Georgio said, stamping a hoof. “You call Vayne, or I’ll have him call Dom. Your man Dom has his number and vice-a verse-a. Vayne can hold a phone up for me.”

That would probably work. Star got up, pulling glamour around himself so he would be unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t immune to fairy glamour; unfortunately, there were many ways to get around it. Putting a certain ointment on their eyelids, looking through an elf-shot stone, turning their clothes inside out and wearing them, even just having greater magics or glamours than himself. Those and other such folk remedies had, Star regretted, a remarkably high rate of success. Still, Georgio swore abruptly, as Star looked like he’d vanished into dew.

Invisible to at least some eyes, Star quickly composed a group message to his friends and relayed what had just happened, then picked his way around groups of gawkers, people in shock, workers, EMTs, police, arriving news agents, beginning to work his way through the clubhouse. His arm throbbed dully.

He got several messages back quickly, all of which felt like potential next steps for him: 

Dom was worried about him and wouldn’t mind company to make sure he was okay and to talk things over. 

Dandelion was with the aforementioned mysterious friend who might be willing to hide Dom, and invited Star over to come meet him and recover there. He sounded very concerned.

And Viv was over at the Twilight Council and had been told about a guy with protection magic, so he could go there to get some of that together for Dom, and maybe some healing for himself.

Which one was the best next step, he wondered.

It also occurred to him that, as much as he trusted Georgio to figure it out, he could try to do a last little bit of poking around the clubhouse while glamoured, though again, there were plenty of ways for him to still be noticed, he couldn’t talk to anyone like this, and it was likely to get too crowded within minutes. It was risky and he wasn’t sure of the reward.

Star hesitated, gazing at his phone, trying to decide who to text back and what to say.

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For a moment, Star stood frozen, still holding the hose. He wanted to run after the figure, of course, and briefly entertained an image of him and Georgio running the person down, fighting him with Georgio at his back, speed and strength working together. The idea of letting that person go when he could solve their problems now was horrible. But—

But screaming was worse, screaming meant something bad was happening, and he couldn’t turn his back on it, not again. And water, that he could do something with. “Georgio! Come with me,” he shouted, turning to run back toward the track. No time for regrets; maybe he could have sent Georgio after the mysterious figure, but it was better not to be alone right now.

After all, water, screams? Who knew what was waiting for them.

When he opened the doors at the end, water sluiced in, running up to his knees right away; it would have bowled him over if he weren’t a water spirit. The more mundane mounts in the paddocks began to scream and thump around in their stalls as their feet suddenly dampened.

“What the fuck,” Star said, and Georgio shoved the doors more wildly open with his shoulder, also standing against the water.

It was chaos outside. It appeared that five of the water trucks used to dampen the track had all burst at once, but too much water was coming out of them, like they were drawing on an endless reservoir. There was a faint sulphurous tang of magic in the air, mixed with something else, something familiar he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

The track was slightly downhill of the paddock, a dip built so the stadium seats would get a full view, and the overturned and broken water trucks were continuing to pour out an entire waterfall of water into it. The track was fully flooded already, with the water roaring around it, nearly a whirlpool as the current from the spouting water spun it along the track. The infield—the middle section that the track wrapped around—was already fully flooded, its decorative pond hidden under the rest of the water, with only one decorative tree still showing branches above the water. One woman in a janitorial outfit was barely clinging to a pole next to the track, legs and shoulders in the water, and it was clear she was going to lose her grip in a moment. Many people were along the sides, shouting, dialing for emergency services, sobbing. 

Staring in horror at the track, Star saw a pair of head and shoulders bob up from the water, then get sucked under again. There had been people swept into it. Of course there had been.

He shook himself into action. “Georgio, get that woman! I’m going to—I have to—” Georgio was already going, though, galloping over and throwing down his head to transfer her grip to the horns on either side of his human face. With his muscled neck, he would have no problem dragging her back up to safety

Good. Anyone at risk on the outside, Georgio could help with, but he’d be useless with what Star was going to do.

Star dove into the whirling water, switching forms as he did so. 

It had been a while, he had to admit. He slept in the pond, and swam in rivers, but usually stuck to his humanoid form to do so these days. But he was simply faster as a bäckahästen once he was in the water.

His legs pumped, and then he was galloping underwater faster than he’d ever be able to on land. Water filled his lungs and he coughed even as he ran; it was thick with the dirt and debris from hitting the track at such high force and breathing it was like breathing in a dust cloud would be in air. He caught sight of one form that shouldn’t be there, swam as close as he could, and stuck that figure to his side before continuing along the straightaway.

Brook horses—kelpies, nixies, whatever you wanted to call them—would traditionally hang around in the wilderness until someone tried to mount them. Then they’d stick that person to their back, make them unable to separate, and run them into the river to drown them.

Star was doing the opposite here, grabbing people who were drowning, attaching them, and running with them to get them to air. He tried desperately to do math in his head; he could do the full track in a minute and a half on the dry land. Faster in the water, but he was weaving to collect people. How long could a human hold their breath? How long had any of them been in here? No way to know how many additional breaths they’d managed to grab and how many had had them knocked out of them.

Stop thinking, he told himself. The straightaway was ending, so instead of taking the clubhouse turn, he ran up the slope the few paces it took to break into air, and released the humans stuck to him, letting momentum take them up onto the still-dry land. The helpers gathering around the water could take care of them.

He dove back in, rounding the curve without as much momentum as he’d like, sweeping up more humans, continuing along the backstretch, doing this over and over, releasing the humans he gathered as soon as seemed reasonable. Some of them might still not make it, he cautioned himself, trying to avoid disappointment.

Star hit the home stretch, flung the last stragglers out, and veered to cross the infield in case anyone had been washed out there. They didn’t seem to be, not at first; the whirling movement of the water had dragged most of them along the track, but he caught sight of one figure and swam toward it.

The figure turned and looked back at him, and he saw blue hair, tangled with seaweed, yellow eyes, a naked, lithe form—with a human in their arms. 

The human was more important than dealing with the other nixie. Star shot forward, transforming, grabbing the human and hauling at them. For a moment, his arms tangled with the other nixie’s, and then that nixie hissed, bit his arm hard, and then swam away. Blood clouded the water where he was swimming, and he lost sight of the nixie almost right away.

That was fine. Star swam upward and to the side, dragging the young man with him. He wasn’t moving, and Star pressed his lips to the man’s, sucking water from his lungs, spat it out, did it again until he was out of water, then pushed air into him.

Despite himself, he was fucking hungry. If he was drowning this man, rather than saving him, he’d be eating him about now. No help for it, he told himself in exhaustion as he attempted CPR. It was just biological.

The man coughed, and other people were rushing over now to help him. Star sat back and actually got a look at him, recognizing Garrett, one of the schedulers here. He let the professionals take over, just sort of stumbling back and taking a seat. 

When he looked around, he saw that the water trucks had finally finished pouring out water—whatever spell on them or other mechanism that had caused the increase in volume had ended. 

Georgio trotted up to him. “Yooo,” he said, shaken. “What the fuck, huuuuh?”

Star could only agree, though he was suddenly desperately grateful that Georgio had been there to help with things on the outside. He was shaking, bleeding heavily from the ragged bite mark in his arm, cold not from the water but from something else, something deeper. He felt like he should be taking some kind of action, but what? The other nixie had almost certainly gotten away in the chaos—if they’d wanted to. Same with the person in black. He could try to look for them, of course, or see what else he could do here, but his head was empty, tired. He didn’t even know what to think about, let alone what he could do. Why had this happened?

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“DON’T GOT TIME FOR WHAT, HUH?” Georgio asked, leaning into Star’s personal space. “FOR YOUR RIVAL, HUH? FOR THIS FINE HUNK OF A RACING SPECIMEN? YEAHHH?”

Star couldn’t stop thinking about it. If Dandelion viewed Dom as a romantic rival, what did that mean? Star knew Dandelion, knew he wouldn’t act against Dom—couldn’t imagine that in his personality, even if Dandelion were a noble sidhe and jealousy was a fairy’s lifeblood, even if fairies were the most possessive creatures crawling out of this green earth. No, it wasn’t like this was a lead on the situation in any way. But it was a complication, it was something that made Dom being used against Dandelion even more of a conflict. Did Dandelion even want more from Star? He’d never said anything. And he wasn’t even sure if Dom wanted more. Maybe Star should just swear off lovers. Maybe he should take an oath of chastity. Maybe he should run away.

And anyway, it’d be irrelevant what it meant if anything happened to either of them! 

He hadn’t answered Georgio, and Georgio didn’t like that. “YOU STANDING THERE LIKE YOU’RE ‘BOUT TO PUT DOWN ROOTS, YEAH, BECAUSE I’LL PULL YOU RIGHT OUT LIKE A DANDELION AND BLOW YOU AWAY.”

“Get his fucking name out of your mouth,” Star yelled back and kicked Georgio in the head. 

It was distinctly less effective than it would have been in his other form, but Georgio staggered anyway. Star drew a deep breath, lurching back to the other wall to put space between them. 

Georgio’s voice dropped out of its constant bellow, though it was still an aggressively monotone growl. “You okay, Son? That shit ain’t like you. If you got a problem with the Manotaur, we’re supposed to work it out on the track! But if you want it to be a brawl, you try comin’ at me again—” 

“The track,” Star said. He drew another breath. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He’d come here to question people. Georgio was one of those people he had meant to question. Georgio had been here when the strangers were here talking to Dom. Georgio was one of the few people who knew about the accidental double booking! But his blood was up, pounding in his ears. No, Georgio had it right, for once. “I’m having. A day. Can we run? On the track?”

“An informal race, huuuh?” Georgio growled. “Yeaaaaaaaaah, let’s go, ya little piece of nori, I’ll eat you like sushi.”

That was probably just normal Georgio shittalk. Star shook himself into his other form, heading for the track, shouldering past several maintenance workers protesting that they’d just aerated and watered the track. It was fine; even if the condition wasn’t fast, it’d be wet fast, solid and well-maintained. He could tip the maintenance workers for the extra labour after. He had to go, had to move. Georgio followed him and when they reached the line, Star gasped out, “Three, two…”

“One,” Georgio said, and they were off.

Star was all lithe speed with his thoroughbred conformation and a nature meant to scare riders to death at top speed, and the water on the track splashing up his legs felt good. He was a brook horse through and through; mud splashing up his legs felt right, like he was finally home again. He tore around the track, head down, just looking at the lane in front of him, letting his thoughts and panic fall away as he poured all of himself back into motion.

Georgio wasn’t fast and slender like Star was, and a mortal bull wouldn’t have been able to keep up, but he was a monster like Star, and his muscle translated to his speed more effectively than it would otherwise. Where Star’s legs danced against the mud, Georgio slammed through like a freight train, a fearsome mass of muscle that would mash anyone into paste if they got in the way.

It wasn’t quite enough to keep up, though, not with Star using the speed to peel mania off his body like sweat, and Star crossed the lap line first at a full fae gallop, slowing to a trot, then a shaky walk. As he let the tension go, he felt weak, exhausted, his head dropping. A night’s sleep wasn’t a real rest when stress lay heavy on him.

Mud spattered his side as Georgio ran past him, slower to adjust his speed down than Star was; once he hit his top speed he stayed there for a while. By the time Georgio had jogged to a regular walk and circled the lap line a second time, Star had shifted back to his more human form, muddy and leaning his hands on his knees.

“Better, Son?”

Star slapped a hand against Georgio’s muddy side. “You’re not half bad,” he said, instead of answering. “Here, let’s get inside and get hosed off.”

They headed to the entrance to the paddocks to do that together rather than track mud through the clubhouse, and Star got the hose down, since Georgio couldn’t do it himself. “The truth is, some shit has been going on,” Star said, spraying Georgio’s side. “Yesterday, when you were out here, did you see anything unusual?”

“Unusual?” Georgio growled. He was keeping the volume of his rasp down, presumably still a bit alarmed by Star freaking out and kicking him. Or maybe Star had finally found the volume button when he kicked, that was also possible. “What do you mean? What you after, Son?”

It occurred to Star that it was actually very possible that Georgio was in on it somehow, or that, at least, Vayne was. Like, maybe he and Vayne were the ones in the double booking for a reason. Maybe they were the ones who brought the Two Creepers to the track yesterday, or were the ones who had led them to information about Star and Dom in the first place. 

On the other hand, worrying about that involved too much thinking when what he needed was info. What was the worst that would happen if he tipped his hand that he was trying to investigate what had happened?”

“Yesterday,” Star said, “there were two weirdos here who cornered Dom after you and he met to get the double booking fixed. They cast some weird-ass spells on him and I’m worried about what they want and what they’re gonna do about it. They might even be after my boss.”

“Your boss, huh? Like, the guy who sponsors you?”

Right. Most jockeys rode because they were employed to do so by the person who owned the mount. Vayne was the Manotaur’s rider, but not the person who… well, didn’t own him, most of the mounts in the magical leagues weren’t owned as many of them were sentient. But most of them were still sponsored by some rich fuck out in the middle of nowhere. Dom and he were a different case, but he didn’t know how many people knew about that and he wasn’t exactly willing to get into it if they didn’t. “Yeah, sort of,” Star said. “Did you see ’em?”

“Two weirdos, huuuuuuuuuh,” Georgio growled. “YEAH, I SAW ‘EM. But only in passing. There was a li’l nixie and I thought it was you for a second, but she had tits, sooo it ain’t you unless you got more going on than I knew.”

“No,” Star said. “You probably shouldn’t call ’em tits.”

“Whatever, dude, we’re both just man guys here,” Georgio said, nudging Star with his now-wet bulk. “Riiiiight soooooooooooo. The other guy, only saw ’em from behind. Super tall, yeahhh, like someone took this guy and stretched him right out.”

“It was a man?”

“Not sure. Guessing so from the height,” Georgio said.

Star sighed. So that wasn’t actually more info. “But taller than human?”

“Taller’n normal for human but not like… impossible,” Georgio offered. “Just a guy who ate his wheaties and eggs every fuckin’ day and got real lucky in his parents, sort of height. Basketballer, you know, not like you’d usually see on the track. Weird, that, I assumed they were here to race, or at least ride, but you can’t get a jockey that tall easy.”

In the magical leagues, it was a little more doable since most of the mounts didn’t have quite the same limitations as mortal horses, but the heavier someone was, the slower a mount would go regardless. Height meant weight, generally. Most jockeys were pretty small. 

“Any other description, even if you just saw that one from behind?” Star asked.

“Looong black hair. Wearin’ a dress. Also all black. Goth, I guess.”

Star was starting to get a headache even at this new, improved volume. “Are you sure it was a dress and not robes?”

“No difference. Robe. Dress. Gown. All the same thing,” Georgio said. “Clothes that ain’t macho. I don’t know nothin’ bout fashion and cuts. Floor-length, though, yeahhhh.”

So maybe robes. The kind of person who wore robes. “You didn’t talk to them?”

“Naw. Vayne did, though, but I was in the paddocks at the time, getting me a niiiice snack, good fuckin’ hay here. The quality roughage, yeahhhhh.”

Interesting. Dom hadn’t known that Vayne had talked to them. Star wondered what it could be about. “What about the double booking?” Star asked. “Do you know who originally booked that lane?” 

“Well, it weren’t Heronika, she was pissed,” Georgio said. “She’d know who did it, thoughhhh, yeeaaaah. That lady got control of everything.”

That was a promising lead. Star nodded, bending to turn the hose off. As he faced up the paddocks toward the clubhouse, he abruptly saw a flash of movement—someone in all black, walking past the door between the clubhouse and the paddock.

Shit. Was that—

And then behind him, from the direction of the track, there was a sudden scream and the sound of rushing water.

Star stood bolt upright, trying to decide which way to run.

[Leave a suggestion in the comments!
You may want to decide if you go to the clubhouse after the figure,
or to the track to deal with the screaming, but if you have other ideas,
feel free to include those too natch!]

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[ Please read the instructions before commenting! ] 

Star woke to find himself alone, which was rarely a surprise, but, as a cuddler, was often a disappointment. Then again, he knew he often slept on his side with his limbs stiff, so he apparently wasn’t a great sleep-buddy.

Nobody else was home, which was mildly worrying as he walked naked through the place, checking various rooms. There was a note on the kitchen table: Have some personal business this morning, then off to meet my acquaintance. Call around or shortly after lunch if you’d like to meet him. It was signed with a doodle of a dandelion.

The rest of his worries were assuaged by check-ins on his phone that he’d received unasked. None of Adrien’s special someones were missing, but he’d stayed out overnight with a couple of them and was likely to be out for much of the day. Caoimhe had only managed to contact a few last night, who were fine, so she was following up with the rest of them this morning. 

It did make the situation feel more targeted, but Star supposed it was good if nobody else had weird people brainwashing their friends.

Dom’s check in was simpler: Still fine, nobody new, have lessons today but I’ll break the stick if anything happens. Star fired off a quick XOXO back.

Shit, there was even a message from Dr. W: Remember to do something for yourself today. 🙂 

Star stared down at his list of recent contacts, all worried and urgent. “I would fucking love to,” he said aloud, “but I don’t think I’ll have the fucking time.” Dandelion and Dom could both be in trouble! What was he going to do, just blow them off?

For a moment, he considered texting everyone to get back here, group chat, whatever, we need to plan plan plan. That’s where his head was, anyway, next step, doing the next thing for the greater good, whatever. But he was fucking sick of planning. He was not a man who wanted to sit around and chat and, besides, they’d just done that last night. At the least he needed more info before turning everything into another big get-together.

Still, Viv hadn’t messaged, and they had roughly planned to work on things together, so he sent her a message first: I’m gonna hit up the track. You should go to the TC. Try to ask around about protection magic &  those freaks, ok? Ps reply if you’re alive.

He got an answer back a few minutes later, as he searched the fridge. I was sleeping. I’ll gator. Probably auto-correct, he decided. A sleepy typo of go later? He sent her back an emoji of an alligator. 

Breakfast, then. He grabbed a pack of ground beef from the fridge and ate handfuls raw while trying to feel a bit less grumpy, then made a cup of tea in a disposable to-go cup and made himself go get dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that he owned that said Save a Horse, Ride a Nixie across the back. He didn’t bother to put anything on underneath, nor did he put on shoes. Society had asked enough of him already for a man who was biologically inclined to hate clothes at all times. 

He was meant to languish over lost loves under waterfalls, not follow decency laws.

The run to the track was fun, at least. Maybe that counted as doing something for himself? He wasn’t sure Dr. W would agree.

It was over almost too soon, though, the half-hour run to the track going by in no time. Star transformed back out front, finishing his tea and tossing the container in one of the compost bins there before heading in.

What should be first, he thought to himself. Although Dom hadn’t specified, he certainly had talked to the weirdos in the clubhouse somewhere—probably somewhere near the paddock if Halle had both seen them and been distracted by a nightmare being put up there. He could explore around there, maybe? Or, he could look for witnesses. Halle had been here, and obviously so had Heronika. It might be worth tracking down the janitors, or trying to follow up on the scheduling thing, or asking around who else had been here last night, and of course he could try to talk to—

“SON. SHOWIN’ YOUR FACE AROUND HERE, YEAH?”

There was only one person who called him Son, instead of his full title or just the usual Star. Also, there was only one person who talked at that weirdly monotone growl at such a high volume. “Georgio,” Star said, sighing. “Were you put up in the paddock here already? I thought your race was bumped out.”

“GOTTA KEEP TRAINING HARD ANYWAY, YEAHH? IT’S MIND-BOGGLING TO YA, YEAH? THAT I’M TRAININ’ NOW? YOUUUUU’RE JUST LUCKY YOU AREN’T FACING ME, YOUR GREATEST RIVAL, YEAH.” Georgio’s macho manotaur body was filling the clubhouse hall, his bearded sweaty human face comically small at the end of his bull neck. 

Ugh. Rival. There was that word again. His mind drifted back to how Dandelion had said it. A rival to Dom. In what? They had almost no activities in common, except— 

—no fucking way. Star froze, leaning against the wall as his legs suddenly wanted to make him leave immediately. He tossed his head, trying to shake the thought out. A love rival? That was stupid! Sure, Dandelion and he slept together and shared intimacies, but that wasn’t uncommon, the whole band was in this weird casual polywhatever. Why would Star having someone else who—oh fuck, who he’d let halter him, control him, give him a say over his life in the same way that Dandelion had through his very nature, why would that, of course it would, ohhh fuck—

“SCARED, YEAH? YOU AIN’T SEEN NOTHING—”

“I don’t have time for this,” Star wailed, throwing a hand up in front of Georgio’s face. He just straight up couldn’t have a full meltdown over this! He couldn’t simply run back out the doors and into the valley and never be seen again! He still hadn’t even figured out what he should do first here at the track yet!

[Leave a suggestion in the comments!
Ideally, who to talk to, where to look, what to talk about while here at the track
since previous comments hadn’t specified, but other stuff also is fine!]

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