Day in the story: 17th December (Wednesday)

When I finished repainting my laser, Shattered's eyes, wind rotors and all the other upgrades onto the suit and painting both the image of the new scarf and Liora into the Spell Book, I had to try the magical-girl transformation thing I'd been thinking about the whole time I was in the shower.

I was still in my underwear when I teleported back to my room, leaving Lio in the Domain for now. He lost interest in my painting after a while and went outside anyway. It mattered to me to test this properly, so it had to be as if I was literally caught pants down. Although, mind you, they were still where they belonged.

I focused on the Lifeline Talisman's painting of my Spell Book. It pulled the book along with the belt it was attached to and set the belt across my hips, where it should be. Then, with another thought, I used the suit's painted soul anchor to bring it to me.

There's one thing about slowly stepping into a tight suit that's painted and shaped to look like armor. There's an entirely different feeling when that piece of clothing is yanked out of its soul-space, moved through a dimension, and appears directly on your body, already thinking that it's a power armor. Trust me, it feels odd. Like a second skin blooming over you, sudden and real, and definitely not the glittery, twirling kind of magical-girl moment I'd imagined.

The effect, though, was exactly what I expected. In seconds I was fully armored, with my Spell Book, tool-belt, boots, scarf and the suit itself all landing on me exactly as they should.

That's the kind of magic I could get behind.

I'd slowly worked my way out of relying on preparation to hold my own in a fight by, oddly enough, preparing myself better—if that made any sense. It wasn't foolproof, though. Not yet. I was still dependent on my Lifeline Talisman; without it I'd be as good as magicless again. That had to change, regardless of how sentimental the thing was. I needed to make the talisman redundant. I'd have to get my first tattoo sooner rather than later, one that showed my Spell Book inside my Domain, covering both problems at once.

That meant sketching out the design myself and finding an artist to ink it on me, which I wasn't exactly eager about. I'd never thought of my skin as a canvas for anything permanent. Part of that came from never really being sure who I was, and part from the ordinary fear of getting bored with whatever mark I'd chosen.

Now, though, it wasn't about style. It was life or death, and aesthetics would have to take a seat way in the back in the shadows. Or—maybe that was the idea? What if I used ink invisible under normal light? If it worked, that would be perfect. Something that only showed under ultraviolet. Fantastic, if I could still use it.

Being unseen would be a huge advantage. No one could suspect me of hiding power, especially once I started facing opponents sharp enough to dig up details about me and plan counters. Still, the invisibility came with a problem. I was almost certain I couldn't infuse what I couldn't see.

There had to be a workaround, something I was missing right now. Until I found it, the tattoo would have to wait.

With that thought, I teleported straight into the Bronx, to the place I'd once brought Penrose weeks ago, the same place he had used to seize his Domain. I remembered how vividly he'd described using that kid, manipulating and finally killing him to get what he wanted. He must have seen me the same way: a disposable asset, only valuable until the day I wasn't. But now? Now he felt more manageable than before.

The place itself had changed since I'd last been there. A thin veil of snow softened the streets and rooftops, almost giving the neighborhood a brighter tone despite the poverty underneath. But Ideworld had a way of cranking everything up to eleven, and it didn't spare this place. The walls were cracked and crumbling, their gaps stuffed with rubbish and the stinking remains of dead rodents. Larger, living ones lurked in the shadows, their oversized bodies crouched low, only their red eyes betraying them.

The shadows of people moved here too, slow and heavy, carrying the weight of their lives on their bent shoulders. Most were hunched, dirty, exhausted, but still dragging groceries or scraps, whatever let them keep going. I wondered if they were drifting now, moving in a fog of survival, numbed into mindlessness just to endure this constant state of despair.

I wasn't here for them, though. I was here to get a few blocks over, to the place where Wakefield's poverty eased into a more ordered stretch, where a Jamaican community had made a home when they'd been cast away from theirs.

I touched my Spell Book and focused on the fresh painting of my new companion: his bright scales, the ribbon of color along his sides. With a flicker of thought, and no resistance, I pulled him through the world toward me. I wasn't sure it would work, but he held my Authority like an object, so I tried.

Let's just say he wasn't thrilled when the world shifted under him mid-momentum and he went snout-first into the snow-dusted pavement.

Ouch.

He lay there for a few seconds and I rushed to him to check if he was all right. "Lio! I'm so sorry," I said as he pushed himself up and shook the snow off. He hissed and glared at me, all angry whiskers and narrowed eyes, but the moment he noticed the new surroundings—actual things, actual sights—he brightened. Shadowlight ran along his sides, and he launched back into the air, practically beaming, like he'd already forgotten the rude landing.

Good.

"We ought to get somewhere so I can check what happened to the person who lived here, okay?" No answer from the lóng. Instead he flew frantic patterns, darting from car to pavement to wall, sniffing snow and peering at anyone who stirred. People woke from their drifting and scattered, terrified.

It hit me then that not every shadow around here was used to seeing the kind of things that break common sense. I'd have to remember that when I walked among them. There was so much to learn about this place.

"Lio!" I called, and finally he settled, hovering close and calm for a beat, looking at me like he cared about the plan.

"I've got to move, so follow me. If you're hungry and you know how, grab a little bird or rat or whatever you want. Otherwise stay close, okay?"

He looked like he understood, or at least I hoped he did, so I tried another test.

"Can you control your shadowlight, Lio? The light you give off." He flared a little. Well, he was already better at this than I was. "Great. Do you know colors? Can you glow green when you agree with me?"

His horns pulsed. Shadowlight spiraled around his body and ran down to his tail before leaking into the air. It started bright green, softened into a pastel, and finally faded into the washed-out color of late autumn leaves.

"That's what I'm talking about. Do that when you agree with me. Use red for disagreement, and flare yellow when you want my attention, okay?" He flashed green again, and that little victory was enough to make me nod. We moved on toward the Jamaican part of Wakefield while I kept glancing at the sky.

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It was clear here. The mirrored version, way out toward Manhattan, hung like a giant alien mothership over the city. I had a few questions about it I'd love to check out one day. Are there edges to the reflected city? What's on its underside?

Common sense said there had to be edges, but common sense didn't always mean much in Ideworld. Maybe those edges only showed from down here, and from up there the whole thing looked seamless. Maybe the underside didn't exist at all. Still, it was a good thing to wonder about while walking a relatively safe street.

Relatively safe, because I'd just noticed a group of young men Ideworld was loudly hinting belonged to a gang. Their faces were wholly tattooed, they wore heavy jackets that looked perfect for hiding things, and one of them swung a baseball bat to freshen the air in a few parked cars by making holes where the windows used to be.

I was wearing my hood, but because of the shadowlight in my veins I felt warm enough to forget to put anything over my pretty tight suit. Not to sound vain, but I was built well enough to be an eye-catcher, especially in those clothes. I made a mental note to get some infused pants I could call to myself when I needed to hide my pretty ass. I could've painted my icy jacket into the Spell Book at the very least—maybe that would've helped.

The group, however, noticed me right away and started their mating song.

"Would ya look at that cake!" one of them called, and I bailed. I jumped onto a streetlamp, then onto the roof, leaving them shrieking below. I didn't have time for them, nor was I inclined to do anything about it. I wasn't the police or a hero, as Malik would've put it.

They kept shouting after me, angry I'd slipped away, while I moved over rooftops that slowly shed their poverty-rough look and began to resemble a mash-up of modern architecture and classical Jamaican style with columns, white and yellow paint, neat facades.

Despite the snow and the cold, there were palm trees here and the whole block looked like it had been cut straight out of the Caribbean. I dropped down and asked the first person I met for the address.

She was an old lady with black skin, heavy accent, warm clothes in summery greens and yellows. One of the extra eyes on the side of my hood caught Lio checking her from a distance. He hovered above her so as not to scare her and munched on some meat that by that point didn't resemble anything living.

"I know this place, right. You gotta move that way." She pointed along the row of buildings. "It's right around the corner. Just be careful—there's a monster living there." She warned as I started to leave.

"Monster? What do you mean?"

"A tall man. He walks out at night only, when most of us are drifting peaceful. He's one of the changed ones."

"Changed? How do you mean?"

"Don't you know? The ones that change because of their nature. His must be a wicked one, I tell you." She meant the shadows that shift shape to match the thoughts of their casters. A tall one, could be the very guy I was looking for.

"Have you seen him lately?"

"No, not for some time." She answered, but Lio flared yellow shadowlight and drew my attention. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing important. Just wanted to be safe, that's all." I said, while I looked in the direction Lio had been facing. Great, the gang I'd left behind were running toward me.

Some people practically invite violence. If they were going to interfere with what I was trying to do, it would only drag things out, so I decided to teach them a lesson. One that taught respect without killing them. Painting anything in the snow was out of the question, which left my usual tools, mostly meant for killing. Mostly, but not entirely.

I focused on my Spell Book and asked it to bring me my heavy sheet—let's call it a blanket, to sound more reasonable. It draped over me like a poncho. I quickly removed the authority woven into it so I wouldn't trap myself. It was instantly obvious to me then that I should have used it like a cloak from the start. Maybe I wouldn't have drawn their attention.

"Lio, thanks for the warning. Stay away for now, okay? I want to teach them a lesson without killing them."

He flared green in answer just as they closed in and began posturing.

"You thought you were gonna run away from the Jacobs?" One of them jeered. Jacobs? If that was their name, lame.

"Look, guys. I know I don't look like much, but I can and will hurt you if you start anything funny."

"Bitch likes to talk, but you ran as soon as you saw us, eh?"

I sighed. "I ran by jumping on top of a lamp and onto a roof. Was that detail too hard to grasp? I could snap you all like twigs." At least that's how it sounded in my head. The truth was messier. They could be a lot of things—Reclaimers, shadow-spawned, mages, warlocks. Could pure shadows be mages like that? I wasn't sure. I'd have to ask someone who knew more.

For now, out of ignorance and hope, I assumed they were just normal gang shadows. I hoped I wouldn't be proven wrong. People were scattering from the street, heading for home. A few pulled out phones as they left. Calling the police, maybe.

If I was going to come out on top, it had to be quick and decisive—no time for flourishes, just a doodle.

I tossed a card over them as they kept shuffling forward with their queasy grins. The one with the bat craned his neck to follow its flight, only to see me appear in its place as it passed overhead. I dropped my blanket onto him and made it heavy as lead. The weight pinned the guy beneath while I landed on another's shoulders and sent him sprawling.

I grabbed my scarf and flung it over one of the two still standing; he looked bewildered for a second as it stiffened into hard steel and trapped him. The last guy left was facing me, and I had Noxy aimed straight at his forehead. His eyes darted to his fallen mates, but with no help coming he raised his hands.

"I made a bad decision, miss. No need to get bloody, ok?" he said.

Four guys pacified in less than a breath. Pretty good.

"Look," I began, "what's your name?"

"J-j-joel," he stuttered.

"Listen, Joel. I have nothing against a bit of crime now and then, so I won't judge how you spend your time. Just take your guys and leave me alone." He gulped and looked relieved. For some reason Malik's stupid smile flashed in my head. Eh.

"Also, you know what? That crime I just mentioned, keep it very minimal, okay?" He looked confused, and I didn't blame him. "Just occasional destruction of property is fine, I guess. Don't hurt people, or I'll come for you. You understand?"

He nodded. I bet he didn't. Hell, I wasn't even sure what I'd asked of him. Malik and his ridiculous standards of behavior were to blame for that. They'd rubbed off on me.

I'd officially become a magical girl upholding the law. My bad.

It was going to come back to bite me in the ass, I was sure of it. I lowered the gun as I moved back a little and willed the blanket and scarf back over myself, stripping the authority from both as soon as they shifted back into place.

"While we're talking," I said, as the guys retreated a bit from me, helping the one I'd dropped to the ground to stand up, "do you know anything about the guy living around the corner? The tall changed man?"

"You mean Victor?" the guy with the bad accent answered.

"Victor Bohr, yes." I confirmed. "You know him?"

"Yeah, he's a pretty chill dude."

"I heard he's a monster, just minutes ago, from a lady I met here."

"Those are prejudiced old fucks. Just because he's changed doesn't mean he's a monster." That was rich coming from a guy who, just seconds ago, wanted to do Reality-only-knows-what to me and got his ass handed to him on a platter, or under a blanket. Did that mean this Victor guy was more like them, and actually a monster? Difficult to tell. I wasn't exactly an angel either.

"Interesting. Why do you think he's a chill dude?" I asked, slipping back into investigative mode. I could feel Lio somewhere to my right, but couldn't see him without moving my head. He was very good at making himself scarce.

"He spent time with us. Likes to laugh and drink, but we haven't seen him for some time now."

"First of all, when you go around breaking people's stuff, you're not exactly approachable. Work on that. Secondly, when was the last time you saw him?"

"I dunno. Few days?"

"It was before those strange dudes appeared," the guy I'd dropped added.

"What strange guys?" I asked.

"Hard to say. Just… strange, you know? Like not from this world." Could be my side. Most likely were.

"Where did you see them?"

"Here. They were passing through with some heavy stuff. We wanted some of that for ourselves, but one guy just splattered little Timmy like he was a fly, so we moved away. We haven't seen Victor since that day."

"And those guys, you know where they went?"

"West. To Van Cortlandt Park." Another park. Fantastic.

"We could take you there, if you want," their leader said, checking me out again. I bet they'd like that.

"No need. I'll find it myself. Now get out of here before I change my mind about letting you go," I said, just as my enhanced hearing picked up the faint wail of police sirens, growing louder, coming this way.

I didn't wait to see if they'd follow my advice. I ran toward the place where Victor lived, hoping to finally find an answer about what had happened to him.

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