-/-/-/-/- 23 hours from Now, approx. 8:00 AM

The effects spread out over the town like ripples in a pond. Cement cracked; streetlights acted strangely, some blinking wildly like a frenzied set of Christmas lights, and others all turned green and stayed there, causing several severe car accidents in scattered places about the city. In stores, employees were astounded when items refused to be arranged orderly on shelves; when shoppers tried to line up at the registers, several of them were alarmed when their shopping carts instead ran straight into tables and shelves. Flowers in planters rearranged themselves, switching from immaculately neat rows to zigzags and curves. Televisions stopped working; when one was switched on, the set would switch from channel to channel rapidly, and the volume would go up and down randomly. Phones, radios, and cars wouldn't work, either. They refused to do what they were supposed to do and, instead, did something else. One car, when it was started, proceeded to do a hip-hop dance number; another car, without needed to be started, chased down and ran over every person and animal in the neighborhood, then lay still. Furniture acted just as bizarre.

Twenty people were dead before dawn, but their reapers had yet to come to collect their souls. They had their own problems to deal with.

Daisy was awoken at 5:37 in the morning by her alarm clock. A glance at the electronic clock told her that the clock was broken, for the block letters were now disjointed and even crooked. Daisy groggily wondered why the numbers didn't look like numbers anymore before her eyes slid past the clock and she gasped in surprise. Every painting on the walls of her room, which were normally perfectly straight and spaced evenly from each other, were now crooked or threatening to fall.

George, upstairs, was taken out of sleep by noise her roommate, Daisy, was making downstairs. She groaned and rolled over in an attempt to reclaim sleep, only for her eyes to open wide. She bolted upright. The items in her room were in similar disarray.

Roxy, who had yet to go to bed, was drawn out of her apartment by a shrill scream. She hurried out into the hallway to find a woman staring, horrified, down the stairs at a man lying at its base. He'd lost his balance going down the now very disordered stairs.

Rube, who had fallen asleep reading in his chair, jerked awake when he heard a car skidding on the street outside, followed by a mighty crash. He reached for the closest pair of shoes on the floor, only to blink in astonishment as he realized that every set of his shoes, normally arranged in one long, neat row, were all scattered about the room; one was even hanging from the ceiling fan.

Jesse, the wizard reaper from Natural Causes, was washed out of his bed by a mighty tidal wave. The tidal wave had come sweeping out of Vance Hollyquick's portrait two minutes before.

As for Mason, he and Jexter spent a good deal of time stepping around, dodging, and jumping over various objects that had suddenly decided that order was boring and disorder was much more preferable. They were attempting to make their way to Pax Pacis; they'd had the best luck there the last time, and they hoped their luck would hold a second time and Lorne would be able to point them in the direction of the book they needed. If he couldn't help them, they'd move on to the bookstores, but Jexter doubted they'd have a copy; apparently, the volume was hard to come by. Getting to the bar, however, proved to be problematic, and it was confounded by the time spent stopping at each accident they happened upon.

Driven by a sense of responsibility Rube would be astounded to learn Mason possessed, Mason had called a halt to their walk each time he saw a dead body. He would then run a hand over the person or people in question. It didn't always work; reapers were assigned a specific allotment of souls, and not every person who died that morning was Mason's personal responsibility. He ended up collecting four souls and promptly sent them on their way.

It took them hours to get to Pax Pacis. They didn't dare Apparate when they had no idea what they'd Apparate into; it may not kill them, but it would waste their time. The bar was in shambles, unsurprisingly. Garbage, which had previously been contained in a group of trashcans in the corner, lay in splotches on the concrete before the entrance. The lights that had illuminated the stage were pointed in every direction now; some of them blinked, others dimmed in and out, and others weren't on. Tables and chairs had been thrown about the room, and the various bottles and glasses behind the bar were in odd places.

Lorne sat at the bar on the only righted stool, glass and bottle in hand. He glanced up when they entered. "Looks like someone came in and trashed the place, doesn't it?" he asked bitterly. "Wouldn't be the first time. First time it happened to this place, though." He drained his glass then swiveled to face them. "Guess you guys didn't get there in time, huh?"

"No," Mason replied.

"We're looking for something, the eleventh edition of The Most Magnificent of Light Magicks. Know where we should look?"

"Mm. That's some pretty powerful light magic. The only people I know who would know where to look for something like that is-"

"The Watcher's Council," Jexter finished. Lorne nodded. Jexter slammed a hand on the counter in frustration. "Fuck!"

Mason watched him, curious. "Exactly what is so bad about going to the Watcher's Council?" he asked him. He made a face. "What is the Watcher's Council?"

Lorne answered him, "They train and help the Slayers." Mason raised his eyebrows, uncomprehending. "The Slayers fight the forces of darkness. They're the good guys."

"Oh." Mason turned back to his cousin. "Didn't you say you helped them?"

Jexter rolled his eyes. "Yes, and I also said they didn't know I had a copy of The Most Gruesome of Dark Magicks. They might end up Slaying me if they found out." He ran a hand through his hair and slammed his fist against the counter again. He squeezed his eyes tight. "I'm going to kill him," he said, faintly.

Mason patted his back. "It's not your fault, Jex."

"Maybe." He took a deep, steadying breath. "I guess we'll have to contact the Council, then."

Mason slapped his back and turned back to Lorne, who'd watched the exchange. "Can we borrow your phone, by any chance?"

Lorne grimaced. "I'd let you, but there'd be no point. Your boy's spell has effected the phones, too."

"Damn!" Mason looked puzzled at his cousin. "What're we gonna do now? We don't have time to go to Cleveland ourselves."

Jexter looked unblinkingly at him for a long moment. "We owl them," he replied in an obvious tone.

Mason blinked, then smiled sheepishly. "Oh. Right." He looked outside and scowled. They'd have to go back out there if they wanted to get to the owlry.

As if on cue, they heard a horrible screech and crash, accompanied not long after by the sound of a store alarm, which belted out the chorus of Joe Diffie's 'John Deere Green'.

All three of them winced.

Mason bit his lip as he debated with himself for a long moment. "I have to do my job," he told Jexter.

Jexter looked about ready to protest, but kept his mouth shut and nodded instead. "I'll go to the owlry at Listrious Place. How about I meet you back at the hotel tonight?"

Mason grinned at him in gratitude for understanding. "I may be a little busy," he warned, "but if I've got the time, I'll be over there tonight."

Jexter nodded again. He turned to Lorne. "Thanks."

Lorne only shrugged, looking grim. "Don't mention it. Just be careful. Both of you."

The wizards nodded before exiting the bar, leaving the battle-worn demon behind them.