The world consists of splashes of color and a cacophony of noises, filtered through beer suds and knotted wood. Bright, warm hands slam on the surfaces of her being, muffled impacts that light up her senses like sun spots against the back of her eyelids. Feet stomp, the vibrations flowing through her. Chatter, laughter, the words indistinct, unimportant, they are never important. Beings are all around her, she sees them in vibrant hues, cool toned blues, violent crimsons, and lovely buttery yellows, like small suns. The Keeper of the Ways is the brightest, yellow streaked with gold. The beings revolve around him, the center of sparkling solar system, stars winking in and out of existence. She observes the patterns of flashing colors without connection, without care. They wink in and out so fast, too fast for her to follow, except for the Keeper's golden core.

She did see the sick one, deep shadows threaded through yellow, a touch of chaos inside. A life so brief, yet so close to the keeper's golden glow. The presence is puzzling enough to focus. Focus is hard, so very hard, as if rising from the bottom of the deepest ocean. Focus, she must focus, if she wants to see.

A hand presses against her surface, shocking her with abrupt connection. Yellow threaded with black, like a fading blossom as the being staggers against her. She can hear his words.

'Please, please let me in, I beg you.'

The light begins to fade.

She opens to him, hyper aware, connecting to him in a way she never has before, not even with the Keeper. He sprawls over her surfaces, trapping her in the moment, sharpening her awareness to a blade's edge as color seeps from him, his golden yellow glow fading while the cool darkness spreads from inside him, across her surfaces. She can feel his life ebbing.

"Melvin!" The Keeper rushes forward, pulling Melvin into his arms. She sees the Keeper's horror, brushes her focused awareness against his. Connection. She is tethered to the moment like bottled lightning, awareness merging with the Keeper's for an infinite moment of agony. Through his eyes, the colors gain rich details, expressive faces and form, recognition. She is holding her heart in her arms. The man's face is tilted up, framed by dark curls. She sees the golden yellow light leaving his eyes, now lifeless green grey orbs. Lifeless. A shock-wave ripples through her.

"No," the Keeper sobs. His pain sinks into her like a thousand needle sharp blades, and for the first time in her existence she understands.

Lifeless.

She refuses to accept it, reaching, grasping, until she snags the fading threads of the man's essence. This will not be.

Calponia's eyes snapped open. She sat up, eyes unfocused. Her head spun, she was drenched with sweat, and her heart pounded. She pressed a hand to her chest, strangely relieved by the feel of it. The dream was already slipping away as she struggled to regain her equilibrium. She was in her room at the Edgewise, the lighting dim but she felt the softness of her blankets and smelled fresh flowers. How did she get here? What was the last thing she remembered?

Clinging to Eugene like a spider monkey in the flooding cave.

Her cheeks burned. Right. Think harder Calponia, linger on that later. She remembered weakness. She thought it was hardcore exhaustion, a fair assumption after all the adrenaline and general insanity of the past couple days. She remembered cold. She frowned, her fingers brushing over her chest. There was a patch of numb skin, still faintly chill beneath her fingertips. Easing from the bed, she fumbled for the night table lamp, thankful for a simple pull string as she wasn't certain her fingers would cooperate for anything more complex. Her legs wobbled but held as she made her way to the vanity mirror.

Calponia chanced a peek at her reflection and immediately regretted it. "Holy hell."

Like death warmed over, maybe hit with a baseball bat a few times for good measure, she cringed, ignoring her unfortunate face as she pulled the collar of her shirt down. At some point, someone had peeled her out of her Arden garb in favor of a long loose shirt that came down to her knees. Comfortable though it did give her a hospital gown vibe minus the gaping backside. She yanked the collar down to reveal a handprint on her chest, a dull off color gray like dead skin.

"Shit, I'm going to be so mad if this scars," she muttered, poking at it.

"Well, it might, no guarantees with magic like that," said Mack.

Calponia gave a strangled squeak and reared up in badger attack mode. She whirled on the tavern keeper, who stood in the doorway with a pile of fluffy white towels in his arms.

"How long have you been standing there?"

Mack didn't answer. He set the towels down on the chair by the door and marched across the room, not speaking a word as he pulled her into a fierce hug. He rested his chin on the top of her head, while one large hand cupped the back of her head, holding her in a grip both strong and beyond gentle, as if afraid she'd break. Or as if she already broke. She could feel his heartbeat, fast and strong, and in the long moment of silence he held her, she felt her pounding pulse finally begin to slow, the confusion and tension she woke up with unwinding. Calponia realized there were tears running down her face.

"You gave me quite the fright, youngster," murmured Mack. There was a strain in his casual words that made her curl her arm up around him, comforting him as much as he comforted her.

"I died, didn't I?" Calponia whispered, afraid to say the words out loud but she felt their truth. Mack's arms tightened on her. He swallowed.

"Yes. Please try not to do it again."

She laughed, sniffling. "Sure thing, boss."

He didn't let go of her immediately, she didn't push him away. It had been a long time since someone comforted her like this, like family. It was a balm, like liquid light pouring into her soul. When they finally let go, he lead her back to the bed, easing down beside her.

"I'll leave you to freshen up in a moment," said Mack, his expression one of wary concern as he looked over her. "I spoke with Prospero's boys about what happened." She perked up at that, curious despite herself.

"Our mystery figure captured them through deception" said Mack, "though that is puzzling enough with Ariel's abilities. They said it was a set-up, specifically for me. Both were rather surprised when you showed up and managed to foil the trap. I think they are rather taken by you."

Calponia snorted. "I doubt that."

A small smile lit his face, highlighting how tired he looked. She felt a fresh surge of alarm. Hard to weaken, that one.

She pulled her knees up, hugging them to her chest. "He said he wanted the Heart." She kept her gaze on his face. The lack of surprise was telling. "You promised to not to keep things from me, specially important stuff," she said, her voice soft and small.

Mack looked away, closing his eyes. "There wasn't time," he said. "Everything unfolded so fast, so very fast. And here, I lead you into mortal danger, again. You are so very mortal."

A knot grew in her chest as he spoke. "You knew I was mortal when you invited me to be your apprentice," she reminded him.

He looked up at her, those ageless eyes holding a deep loneliness she couldn't begin to fathom. "It's easy to forget, how fragile mortals are."

She didn't like this conversation, treading too close to her bizarre half forgotten dream. Fidgeting, she asked, "What is the Heart?'

A beat of silence followed. Mack's leg began to bounce in an agitated rhythm. "The Heart is my raison d'être. The Heart of Ways is a power source, a key to all realms, and infinite realities. It could be used to bring down the walls between realms, a merge of chaos and death. It could be used with vicious control. The worst maniacal despot would appear to be a spoiled child by comparison. In the wrong hands, it could bring the Universe to heel."

Calponia released a shaky breath. "Oh. No big deal then," she said. "I mean, you don't carry it around like a nuke in your back pocket, so that trap would be useless anyway, right?"

"He could have very well used me to get to the Heart," admitted Mack.

She hedged, uncertain he would answer her next question. "Which is where exactly?"

His expression was unfathomable as he gestured to the room. "You're looking at it."

The Edgewise? The tavern was that powerful? The dream danced at the back of her thoughts, bits and pieces coming back to her as a fractured puzzle. She debated mentioning it to Mack, but had the distinct feeling she shouldn't.

She just wasn't sure if that feeling was her own. What a troubling thought.

"Wait a second, did he attack the Edgewise while we were on Arden? How long were we gone?"

"He didn't, which is honestly more worrisome," said Mack.

Calponia made a face. "That makes no freaking sense. Why go through all the trouble to make a fancy Bond style death trap for you but not take advantage of an empty Edgewise? He's the worst Blofeld ever!"

Mack rubbed a hand over his mouth, covering what may have been a laugh. "I think he didn't attack because he couldn't. The Edgewise has vast defenses and near empty as it was, it had plenty of strength to fend off just about anything. Our mysterious gentleman is looking for a way in. He's been punching holes through bordering realms, sowing havoc looking for one. I think he needs something from me and I'm not sure he'll give up until he gets it."

"Any idea who he is?"

"No," said Mack, but his expression hinted otherwise. She poked him, glaring at him until he held up his hands in surrender. "I have a couple theories but nothing substantial."

She sighed. 'What kind of theories?" Honestly, like squeezing water from stone.

Mack shrugged. "I can only think of a handful of individuals capable of setting up such a string of events but can't think why they'd want to."

"Uh, cause you hold the key to the universe? Just thinking off the top of my head here," said Calponia.

The smile left his face. "Yes but they know such power takes as much as it gives."

The words drained the warmth from the room. Calponia rubbed the numb skin of her chest. "He told me I'd be of use to him," she said.

Mack's attention jerked back to her. "He what?"

"He said after he found a way in, he had a use for me. He told me to stay alive until then," she rubbed the numb skin harder. "What did he do to me?"

"He drained the bête noire," said Mack, "a temporary nullification. Try not to get used to it."

"Temporary null--" Calponia paused, realizing that in all the weakness and exhaustion, she hadn't once felt the taunting pull of the curse inside her. For some reason, it made her unbearably angry. She felt violated. "For how long?"

"I'm not sure, Cal," said Mack, rubbing the back of his neck. "The spell took a long time to react to you and when it finally caught up it stopped your heart. I know most forms of magic and this left me a bit baffled." She could tell he hated admitting that to her, and the effort he made to do so softened her anger.

"What do we do now?"

"You are going to take an obnoxiously long bath," said Mack, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "And if you ask nicely, the Edgewise might even scent the water for you. Something nice and floral."

"Uh huh, what are you not telling me."

"Did I ever mention you're too bloody perceptive?"

Calponia folded her arms and squinted at him.

Mack's shoulders sagged. "We've been gone over a month."

She blinked. "Wow, that is...that's a lot longer than I expected."

"Captain Ravelock and his crew never came back to the tavern. Neither did the Munch."

Her lips parted. Calponia grabbed handfuls of his shirt, yanking him close. "You're just telling me this now! With that psycho out there punching holes in reality? What if he attacked them to get to you?"

"He might have," said Mack, holding up a hand when she opened her mouth to yell at him. "That is why I will leaving to check on them as soon as you're settled in."

"What," she scowled at him, shoving him away. "No, I am coming with you--"

"You died," Mack snapped, thumping his hands against the top of the bed. "You just died, no warning. I could do nothing but try to bring you back."

The pain in his face took her breath away. Raw and utterly exposed to her, she swallowed and took his hand, gripping it between both of hers.

"Mack," she said, "It's okay, I'm alive."

He flinched, pulling away from her. "This isn't open for debate, Cal. Not this."

She wanted to argue but knew this wasn't the time to push the issue on her semi immortal boss. Mack rose, leaning over to kiss the top of her head. "Rest, relax, rejuvenate. Let the Edgewise help you heal. I won't leave until you feel like yourself again."

She should have urged him to go immediately, worried about the others, but his words were so disarmingly reassuring. She watched him leave the room from the corner of her eye. For a moment, she swore he glowed, a blur of yellow streaked with gold, like the sun.

The door shut, making her jump.

Her head felt over stuffed. She rose to her feet, wobbling her way to the bathroom with minimal effort. It was weird to cross a room without the slightest stumble. A steaming bath waited for her in a massive shell shaped tub. She could have sworn there was only a shower in here before, but the answer to that was Edgewise. Duh. Shucking off her night shirt and underwear, she sank in lavender scented water up to her neck, groaning at the cocoon of warmth around her. Bliss, this was pure freaking bliss. She could stay here for hours. She tipped back, letting herself float, her hair drifting and tickling her shoulders.

Let the Edgewise heal you. She nibbled on her lip, straining to recall the dream. Parts of it she remembered with startling clarity, but the rest, it felt whited-out, censored, and as Calponia pondered that sensation, she stared at the bathroom walls.

Sunflowers were blooming from the tile grout, their heads growing and drooping down toward her as she watched. Golden Yellow and black, brilliant and beautiful as they were impossible. She inhaled a sharp breath, reaching up to touch one's velvety petals.

Such fragile mortality.

Calponia froze. That thought, that memory, was definitely not her own.

Mack paced the narrow trench between his bed and the door. He was too unsettled to join the others downstairs, muttering to himself and gesturing at the air.

"No arguments, well she didn't argue. Why don't I feel good about that?" Truthfully he'd been unsettled from the moment Cal hit the floor. Her heart stopped. Stopped. She was so bewilderingly mortal. And he had the gall to lecture the vampire on getting attached. "I'm the bigger idiot."

He'd had a plan when he made her his apprentice. A plan to prolong her life as much as possible with the bête noire throttling her life force. A plan that unraveled with astonishing speed. When had he become so bloody arrogant?

Honestly he couldn't decide if the bête noire was the least of his problems or the worst of his problems. That their mystery assailant wanted to use Calponia made him wonder how coincidental her appearance in the Edgewise was, except why would the tavern welcome such a blatant weakness? Why seek out a being so troublesome?

Why had he been so driven to make Cal his apprentice? The more he thought about it, the more irrational the decision seemed. In the moment he took her on, he had perfect clarity. The world made sense. Now his logic was riddled with flaws and the infuriating feeling of forgotten information.

Holes in his memory, a dangerous concept. If he'd forgotten something vital, it could doom them all. Frustrated, he ran his hands through his hair. A crinkle from his front vest pocket made him pause.

Frowning he pulled a wrinkled photograph from his pocket.

"Son of a bitch," he snarled. A hush fell on the room.He glared up at the rafters, outraged by the disconnected silence. The Edgewise was deliberately shutting him out. "How dare you."

Anger made him reckless. He promised Cal he wouldn't leave, but he couldn't risk staying, not when he could sense the tugging inside his head as the Edgewise tried to creep around his mind like a bloody thief in the night. A conductor directing an invisible orchestra, he traced a shape in the air, forcing a doorway into existence. The effort drained him, making him sway on his feet but he couldn't pull on the tavern for strength. Not right now. He clenched his jaw, growling as he shoved his way through to the Earth realm. The odor of stale tea and Gold Bond smacked him in the face. Thank god there was no cat. He couldn't imagine the stink.

"Henderson," Mack called out, "where are you, you old bugger?"

There was something wrong. It wasn't simply the tea that was stale, but the air. A growing pile of mail cluttered the mail slot at the door.

"Egads, man, are you dead in here?" Mack chanced another inhale, thankful for the absence of rot. But it was clear Henderson hadn't returned to his apartment. Worry for the old man swamped him. His allies were slipping through his fingers. What if the enemy had him? Nabbed him while he was distracted in Arden, or wondering where the hell the others were? Henderson held an uncomfortable amount of knowledge about Mack and the Edgewise, but there was a long held trust between them. Once, when Henderson was a much younger man, Mack had considered making him an apprentice.

He looked down at the photo, at a face that reminded him the folly of bestowing that station on a mortal. A folly the Edgewise made him forget. A folly he'd gone on to repeat with Cal. He was such a fool.

Why had the Edgewise betrayed him so deeply?

"Not again," said Mack, biting his lip until it bled. It was a small thing, but one he could do here, outside the Edgewise's influence. There was a great deal of power in blood. Blood could track a body across realms, through untold barriers. It could be used to open secret ways, something he suspected his adversary wanted to attain from him. It could also be used to tether memory to an object.

Dabbing at his bleeding lip with his thumb, he made a bloody print on the back of the picture, anchoring it to his memory. That he had to take such measures made him so angry, he could barely think straight.

He slipped the picture back into his pocket, taking a final look around Henderson's empty apartment. "I'll find you," he promised. It was time to return. He had to, he needed to be there for Cal but he found himself hesitating at the glimmering doorway. What sort of Way Keeper didn't trust what he protected? How could he protect the Heart when the Edgewise messed with his mind? There was a simple answer to that one.

He couldn't.