After a decade of superheroics, KATE MORGAN finds herself in control
of strange and eldritch forces beyond all mortal ken -- and that
includes her own! Thus begins the


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# NUMBER 1 - "A DEFINITE NO ON THE POINTY HAT" #
# ------- [8F-214] ------------ [PW-58] ------- #

-------------- HOUSE MORGANA --------------------

Kate Morgan (SHIMMER), age 30. She/her.
The ghost who never died. The darkness, reflected in light. The queen,
yet to be crowned.

Simon Morgan, age 20. He/him.
Kate's brother. The boy who must be lost.

Cal Morgan (THE MIGHTY INCH), age 18. They/them.
Kate's sibling. The small hero, overlooked.

Raidne, age N/A. She/her.
Cal's lover. Voice without a mouth. Machine without parts. The ghost
who never lived.

Bethany Clayton (KNOCKOUT MOUSE), age 32. She/her.
Kate's friend. The dreamer and the cynic. The promise, and its
breaker. The paradox heart.

Claire Belden (RAINSHADE), age 31. She/her.
Kate's enemy. Kate's friend. The light, reflected in darkness. The one
who borrows. The weaver of webs.

Maile Akaka, age 20. She/her.
Kate's ally. The storm without mercy. The turncoat redeemed.

Pilar "Pill" Garcia, age 34. She/her.
Maile's lover. The collector. The knower. The laughter in the dark.

June Lash, age 47. She/her.
Maile's spymaster. The lonely heart. The kindly eyes. The lady of cats.

Azabeth "Beth" Collins, age 37. She/her.
Maile's advisor. The dream witch. The sleeper awakened.

-------------------------------------------------

Kate dreams of Claire again. As before, she is only a shadow, a
reflection, glimpsed in mirrors or out of the corner of her eye.
Sometimes she leers, sometimes she hides.

Sometimes she smiles a smile she stole from Kate. "Borrowed,"
whispers the writhing of worms. "Not stolen, but borrowed."

"I gave you more than I took," says something that lives in the
spaces between her teeth. Its voice is raspy and squeezed. "My
umbrella's in your closet."

()

As she floats back to the waking world, Kate feels a weight on her
chest, heavy and insistent, pushing the air out of her lungs.
Breathing shallowly, she opens her eyes.

The small black face purrs at her inquisitively.

"Simon," Kate mouths quietly. A quick little cantrip carries the
whisper to his ear.

"Hang on," he calls from his room, just before bounding down the
stairs. He appears in her doorway. "What's up?"

"Explain," she says, pointing at the creature.

"It's called a cat," deadpans Simon. "Common fauna on the planet Earth."

"Ha," she says flatly. "Why is it standing on me?"

"Because it's your cat," says Simon. "Happy birthday."

"A pet is not a present. It's a responsibility. You can't give me a responsibility for my birthday."

"Is it a pet," wonders Simon aloud, "or is it a familiar?"

"It's not a familiar, because I'm not a witch," says Kate. She
flicks her wrist, and the little black cat levitates into the air and
across the room. It mews plaintively until Simon snatches it into his
arms.

"I mean, you just did magic," says Simon. "If the pointy hat fits."

"You better not have bought me a pointy hat," says Kate.

"No," says Simon solemnly. "I wouldn't do that."

"Good."

"Cal, on the other hand."

Kate frowns.

"In our defense, you're really hard to shop for."

"I get it," says Kate. "You didn't know what to get me, so you
bought yourself a cat."

"Technically she was free," says Simon. "Perk of volunteering at
the shelter."

"Just keep digging that hole, buddy."

"I can keep her, though, right?" He scratches behind her ears.
Then, holding her by the armpits, he pushes the cat toward Kate. "You
can't say no to this face."

"I can if I don't look at it," says Kate. "And, I just looked at
it. Darn. Of course you can keep the cat, Simon. The cat you got
yourself for my birthday. I'm still expecting something. If you really
want to get me something, just get me something for the kitchen."

"But I'm the one that cooks."

"Then it's in the same spirit as the cat," says Kate.

"Unless you think you could use a new cauldron."

"Not a witch," says Kate. "Now get out of here before I turn you
into a frog. You and Melody will be out all night?"

He blushes. "Uh, maybe."

"That's a yes, then. See you tomorrow."

()

She spends her morning trying to learn the new piece (well, new to
her, anyway; the composer's been dead for a century and a half). She
doesn't make much progress. It's not that it's an especially
challenging or difficult piece (she's done the Hammerklavier for gosh
sake) but that her mind keeps wandering back to the new enchantment
(again, it's only "new" because it's new to her: the grimoire she
found it in is impossibly old).

Finally she surrenders, summoning the book with a flick of her
wrist, and poring over its tattered pages as she eats a late
breakfast. The weirdest thing about this whole magic thing is that she
really doesn't have any particular knack for it, no raw talent or
natural genius. None of it comes easy; it's all hard, and everything
she's learned has been through sheer stubbornness and hours of hard
work. But that's also essentially how she learned piano, so maybe it's
not so weird after all.

In either case, she makes about as much progress with the
enchantment as she did the sonata. Kate's glad when it's time for her
scheduled video call with Cal.

"Happy birthday, old one."

"Simon told me a funny joke," says Kate. "He said you got me a
witch's hat. But I know you wouldn't do that."

"Oh, that is funny," says Cal. Then, in a stage whisper to their
disembodied computer girlfriend: "Raidne, ixnay on the order from the haberdasher." Cal mugs at the camera, beaming and bright. It takes
Kate by surprise; she doesn't remember the last time Cal had this much
bounce in them, if they ever did. "I see Simon got his cat."

"I thought you liked cats."

"I did, when they were smaller than me," says Cal. "Now I'm
snack-sized. Why do you think I moved out? Simon's been dropping hints
for months. 'Oh, there was this cat at the shelter today, and we
really bonded, you know? Obviously I can't bring it home because then
it would eat you, and I know you wouldn't take too kindly to being
digested. Oh, what's that? You're thinking of moving? Well, if you're
doing that anyway, maybe I'll get a cat. But I don't care either way.
Please don't feel pressured.' And so on."

"Cal," begins Kate.

"Oh my gosh, I'm kidding, you absolute goon. Well. Half-kidding. Quarter-kidding. I was basically quoting him almost kinda verbatim?
But that's not why I moved. I mean, how am I gonna be boinking my hot girlfriend twenty-four seven in my childhood home, with my big sister
in the next room? It'd be indecent."

"Do you? Uh. With Raidne?"

"Whoa," says Cal. "That's classified information. Pervert."

"I don't want details," says Kate, who absolutely wants details:
the whole thing is incomprehensible to her. "I just want her to make
you happy."

"She does," says Cal earnestly. Then, slyly: "Several times a night."

"Gross," says Kate.

"You're the one that asked."

"How's your squad?"

"Squad's good," says Cal. "We really click, you know? It's kinda
like I found my people." They cover their mouth, realizing what they
just said. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"Cal, if we ever made you feel like you didn't belong, we didn't mean to."

"No, it wasn't you. You were great. You did everything you could.
It's just, I'm not like you and Simon. I never was. I gotta be who I
am, right, just like you gotta be who you are."

That's the million dollar question though, isn't it? Is Kate a
superhero or a sorceress? Claire was both, but she's not Claire --
even though, for a short period of time, Claire was her.

()

"Still wearing the green one?" says Bethany, frowning at Kate's costume.

"Oh, is this the green one? Somehow I didn't notice that I put on
the green costume again, the same green costume I've been wearing for
six weeks now. Huh, isn't that weird?"

"I mean, it is weird," says Bethany. "After everything Claire did
to you, you're going to keep wearing her costume?"

"It's not her costume."

"It's the same shade of green."

"That doesn't make it her costume. She never wore it, not as herself."

"No, just when she was pretending to be you."

"She made it for me."

"Because she's obsessed with you. That doesn't make it better."

"It doesn't," admits Kate. "But I like it. I like the way I look in
it. I like the way it makes me feel. Maybe it's just me, you know,
reclaiming it. Making it mine. Anyway, are we going to punch bad guys
or what?"

()

The bad guy punching goes on a little longer than anticipated, and by
the time Kate gets back home, she's exhausted and grimy. She hops into
the shower, letting the hot water beat against her back and shoulders.
It's a little too hot; burns a little. She should adjust. She doesn't.

She gives the shampoo bottle a shake and a squeeze, the gel
plopping wetly in her palm. Kate rubs her hands together, but it
doesn't feel right, doesn't feel like shampoo. She looks down: between
her hands is a mass of worms.

Instinctively, she drops it. It joins the hundreds of others
wiggling in the tub.

Just a dream, she reminds herself. No need to scream.

"But dreams are more than dreams," hisses the showerhead.

Kate steps out of the dream-tub, and out of the corner of her eye
is distracted by a sliver of Claire. When she turns her attention back
to what she's doing, she's no longer stepping out of the tub. She's in
it, on her back, completely submerged, struggling to breathe. Her
mother looms over her, pushing her down.

"This is worse than a dream," promises the water. "This is memory."

Kate knows it well. It's the reason she doesn't take baths. It's
the day her mother tied her up and tried to drown her. (It's the day
her mother died.)

The ropes bind her now. More than that, they taunt her. "You will
be the last."

Her first instinct is to phase through them, but somehow she knows
this is a trap; this is what the worms want her to do (the ropes are
worms now). Magic is the answer. The worms know this, and tighten
about her wrists, making it impossible for Kate to move her fingers,
impossible for her to cast the only spells that could get her out of
this.

"You will be the last," gasps her airless lungs.

"You will be the last!" shrieks her mother. She smiles with wicked satisfaction.

But then the smiles changes. It's Kate's smile. The face changes
too: it's Claire's. Instead of pushing Kate down, she's trying to pull
her up. The worms climb up Claire's arms. "I'm taking you down with
me," Kate's mouth says bitterly and of its own volition. The water
pours in.

"You will be the last," mourns Claire.

"No, there will be another," says a voice from within the worms as
they burst and unravel like loose bloody string.

Air fills Kate's starving, thirsty lungs. She's lying on her back
in the tub, covered in viscera. The only water is the now-freezing
spray of the showerhead. Claire's gone, her mother's gone: Kate is
alone, save for Simon's small black kitten, who sits serenely at the
edge of the tub.

"I have you to thank, I think," Kate says to the cat. She means it
as a joke, but the moment she says it, she knows that it's true. "God,
that makes you a familiar, doesn't it? I am a witch. Bring on the
pointy hat."

The cat's only response is to lick her paw.

Kate climbs up to her feet. "Feels like it's safe to stay long
enough to get the worm guts off of me. So long as you're here."

As if in agreement, the cat blinks her gorgeous eyes.

()

In Kate's bedroom, there is a door that wasn't there before, drawn in
the wall with chalk. Instinctually, Kate knows it's a door to Shallow
House. Well, she definitely wanted to talk to Beth Collins about this
spooky dream nonsense. Probably Beth figured something was up, and
sent the door to her.

"Coming with?" she says to the cat.

With some difficulty, the cat scampers onto Kate's bed, curling up
on the pillow.

"Well, see you when I get back, then."

()

Maile is surprised to see her. "You said the door just showed up?"

"Yes. You didn't send it?"

"Doesn't work that way," says Maile. "Only way a door can open to
or from Shallow House is if someone who lives here does it. It's what
keeps us safe from The Company. And the necromancer."

"How's that going, by the way?"

"It's going," says Maile, clearly frustrated. "But a door opening
for you? That should be impossible."

"Magic itself is impossible," offers Kate.

"Fair point," says Maile.

Beth enters, sipping a cup of tea. "Maybe the house brought you to
us. You said something about a dream?"

()

Kate explains the dream in the shower to Beth and Maile.

"That's powerful magic," says Beth thoughtfully. "And you've
dreamed of worms before?"

"A few times. Only these last few nights."

"And of Claire?"

"Every night since I came back to our world," says Kate. "But I
figure that's because she got into my head. My memories are all
mixed-up with hers. But the dreams started to feel different. Maybe a
few days before the worms started showing up?"

Beth nods as if this was the most natural thing in the world. "It's
a warning."

"From Claire?"

"Possibly." Beth sips the last of her tea. "Probably. Could just as
easily be something else, borrowing her face."

"So, I guess the million dollar question is, what are they trying
to warn me about?"

"About this afternoon," says Beth. "The worms in the shower. Some
dark thing reaching out for you. If not for the cat, I fear it would
have killed you."

"That's some cat," says Kate.

There's a throaty, raspy meow at Kate's feet. It's Goliath, the
oldest of the cats of Shallow House. He sits, stares, and then
stretches out low to the ground, sphinxlike. He even lowers his head,
resting his chin on his outstretched arms.

This isn't the weirdest part, though. The weirdest part is that the
other cats of Shallow House are sitting behind him: two cats behind
Goliath, three cats behind them, forming a sort of wedge shape. In
unison, the cats all stretch onto their bellies, lowering their heads.
Then, all of them purr.

"Uh, June?" Maile calls out, a little panicked.

June enters the room, mixing bowl in her hand, accompanied by Pill.

"I have not seen them do that before," says June.

Pill stares at the cats in horror, then at the humans. "How'd you
get here?" she asks Kate.

"We're not sure," says Kate. "Door appeared out of nowhere, and I
stepped through."

"Something tried to kill you? A dream tried to kill you?"

"Yes."

"You need to go. Now."

"What?"

Pill snaps her fingers. Her long blue duster flies into the room,
the sleeves sliding over her arms. "I'll explain when we get back to
your place. No time here. We need to go. Now."

Kate looks to Maile.

"I trust her," says Maile simply. "Let's go."

"Me and Kate only," says Pill. She kisses Maile's cheek. "I'll try
to come back, but there's a good chance I won't."

"Well, then I'm definitely coming."

"Don't argue. No time."

Pill opens the door, and they step through, returning to Kate's
bedroom. Pill looks at the cat and nods; the cat blinks languidly in
response. "Yeah, I figured."

"You figured what?"

Instead of answering, she reaches into one of the seemingly
infinite number of pockets inside her duster, pulling out three
twinkling specks of light. They flit about in the air.

This naturally is of great interest to the small black kitten, who
meows inquisitively. "No," says Pill firmly as the light dances out of
the room. She and Kate follow it into the bathroom, where it shimmers
over the remnants of the worms.

"You dreamed of worms," says Pill, more of a statement than a question.

Kate answers anyway. "Yes, that's what I was telling Beth. Is this
the part where you're going to explain what's going on?"

Pill is rifling through her pockets. "Not yet. Need to buy us some
time first." She passes into the living room, scanning the walls.
"Good strong wards here," she says with an approving nod at Kate's
handiwork. "But not strong enough."

()

They spend the better part of a silent hour placing new wards and
strengthening old ones. "We good?" says Kate.

"It will be enough, or it won't," says Pill with an air of
resignation. "Either you will be the last, or there will be another."

"That's what they said in the dream."

"I know." Pill reaches into her duster again, pulling out a deck of
tarot cards. "Need you to shuffle these."

"So, about that," says Kate. "Every time I touch a tarot deck,
something weird happens."

"I know. But I need to see it."

"Okay," says Kate with a shrug. She shuffles the deck. "You want me
to turn over a card?"

Pill nods. Kate flips over the first card. Queen of Cups. She looks
to Pill, who nods again, and so she turns over a second. Queen of
Cups.

Pill reaches for the next card. Two of Wands.

Kate's turn. Queen of Cups.

Pill's turn. Knight of Swords.

Queen of Cups. Eight of Cups. Queen of Cups. Six of Pentacles.
Queen of Cups. The Moon. Queen of Cups. The Fool.

There is a long, dreadful silence between them. Kate breaks it. "It
started when Claire had me trapped within the mirror."

"That makes sense."

"What does it mean, Pill?"

"It means they're coming for you," says Pill. She sniffs the air.
"Tonight. Soon. And they will keep coming for you until they win, or
you do. If we survive? Then there will be another. If we don't? Then
you will be the last."

"The last what?"

Pill flips over another card. But this one is different. This one
has Kate's face, Kate's brown hair, wears a gown of Kate's (Claire's)
green. But she still sits atop a seaside throne. Still holds a
chalice.

The Queen of Cups.


COPYRIGHT 2023 AMABEL HOLLAND

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