"Does this satisfy you?" Caster asked, standing back and looking at Karli Dandleton's face.

"You fixed it all," she murmured in amazement.

"I did no such thing," Caster said sternly. "It was your faith that repaired this building."

They stood on Greene Street, looking up at Jerry's office. Where seconds before had been a gaping hole, there was now a neat facade. Sneaking past the police line had been easy, too: with a word Caster had Jedi Mind Tricked the cops on guard. Karli believed in magic—she had to have, to participate as she had in Jerry's ritual—and now she believed in something else, too. What twelve years of Catholic school had only served to cast doubt upon was undeniably true. Here was living proof of God.

When Caster had explained the Grail War to her, Karli had done the requisite mental gymnastics to accept everything he said. She accepted that she was a Master, and he, a heroic spirit made manifest by the power of the Holy Grail, her Servant. They would have to defeat the six other Servants—Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Berserker, Assassin—in order to complete the ritual Jerry had started and have their wishes granted. No, only five: Archer's Master, her dear friend Bobsom, was already dead.

"If you're here, does that mean the rapture is happening?" she had asked, hesitant.

Caster had thought long and hard about that one, as if puzzling through a lengthy computation or accessing deep memories. "I see that my legend has grown to absurd proportions in my absence," he had laughed, ultimately. "But whatever is said of my powers, it was never my own will or ability that changed the world. I always said I was above all a son of Man. My connection to the divine is as anyone's: a belief in the glory of God."

Karli had gaped at that one.

Now she stood in a deserted street as news helicopters circled above. She was invisible to them, Caster assured her, as the truth of God had been to the Pharisees. "Can you hide me forever?" His class suggested that he was a powerful magician, but he denied it. "The only thing I control is what I say, to whom, and when. Others may arrive at truth without me."

"Why do you seek the Grail?" she had asked. "Is it not your own blood that makes it Holy?"

"I don't know," he had admitted. "I doubt the object of this ritual is that same goblet. As for my wish, I should like to keep that to myself for now."

Karli hadn't pressed him.

"Shall we?" she asked, pointing up at Jerry's office. The sun was beginning to set. If Caster was to be believed, time was of the essence. They had to move.

Caster nodded, produced a whip, and with one crack broke down a door.

They entered the dark hallway and followed the glowing green EXIT signs in reverse, slowly making their way up the U-shaped stairs to the fourth floor. Halfway up, Caster stopped, one hand on Karli's shoulder.

"What's wr—"

The thunderous sound of galloping cut her off. It was right below her, on the stairs. She didn't have a second to think before the gleaming white stallion burst onto the landing beneath her, its white-clad rider brandishing a riding sword. Caster quickly maneuvered between her and and the mounted warrior. Karli, a deer in headlights, hoped that God would see her faith, no longer a blind faith nor a skeptical faith, hoped He would see how she gave herself up to his glory. It's not that I need a miracle to survive, she understood. It's that God is merciful, and that already is the miracle.

With a word from Caster that Karli didn't understand, the stairwell glowed with white light and the stairs folded up into a solid wall. The rider crashed headlong into it, then—judging by the sound—fell crumpled on the landing.

"Run," urged Caster, and they ran.

"Karli, Princess," came a voice from behind them as they cleared the third floor. It sounded like a young John Cusack, and Karli looked over her shoulder to see the most beautiful man in the world walking up the steps toward her. She'd never seen a smile before, she realized. This was a smile and no one else on this miserable planet was capable. He wore a suit of all white, like Caster's robes, with a red sash, like Caster's but narrower, running between golden epaulets and a golden belt. His sword hung on his hip. His hands were empty, both outstretched as if to welcome Karli into the hug that would ruin all other hugs.

He was gaining on her, and she became dimly aware that she had stopped running.

Why would she?

"Come, my Princess," he said, stopping at the landing and extending his arms. "You have worked so hard."

She had! She had fought tooth and nail for her 4.6 GPA, her scholarships, her summer jobs. She had met the every need of her nasty sisters, and taken care of all the housework, too! And when she finally got her acceptance letters, she stayed here, in her hometown, so that she could be just a few subway stops away from her stepmother's house. She visited weekends, doing laundry, tidying, scrubbing. She had worked incredibly hard! And she thought she would always continue to. Was this beautiful man offering her a break? He loved her, she could tell; he would treat her well, reward her for her toils, offer her massages at the end of each day.

In a daze of fantasies, Karli took a step toward him.

Then Caster's hand was on the collar of her shirt, pulling her away, and she remembered that she didn't have any sisters. Her mother and father were happily married and supporting her through college. They lived in Columbus, and the beautiful man was drawing his sword, smile forgotten.

They ran up the last flight of stairs, chased by the dashing stranger, and Caster closed the hallway behind them with a brief incantation.

"I'll hold him here," he said, "you get the plants."

Karli nodded and started down the hall. Behind her, she could hear metal ringing on stone, crashing and crumbling. This was the Holy Grail War. Caster was her Servant, and he was battling another. They could fight to the death. Perhaps the man in white would win. Karli didn't care too much about winning, and she understood that if her Servant died she would be removed from he war, safe, a civilian once more. The thought upset her more than she thought it would. She thought back to the summoning chant as she ran. She had promised to be all that was good. But Caster was all that was good. A direct channel to God, the strongest voice of humility and faith. She couldn't bear the idea of him losing, dying. She wanted to see his wish come true.

That's why she was here, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath outside Jerry's door. She wasn't a magus. She couldn't replenish her Servant's mana. Luckily, Jerry had prepared the orchids, which Caster had assured her were powerful stores of mana. "Like giant batteries," he had said. For three months Karli had tended to her own, watched her friends tend to theirs, all while Jerry watched over them.

"We're healing the world," Jerry had said. "The love and attention you show these flowers will multiply within you."

A "manaetic experiment," Jerry had called it. He had mentored the seven, nurtured them as they nurtured the orchids, dispelled their every frustration. Mana was the life force of the planet, of every living thing on it, and it was also an energy source to be tapped for magic. "None of us can do that, of course," Jerry had laughed. The wizards had all died off with Rome. But he was interested in mana regardless. Not to do magic, but to build people up. Mana saturation was for the soul what nine hours of sleep was for the body. That's how he had explained it. And the orchids were the foci. By developing the orchids' mana pools, he had said, the group would develop their own. "We build each other up," he would say, his favorite catchphrase. "We" included the orchids.

Karli felt like there were some disconnects between what Jerry had said and what Caster had told her, but that wasn't a surprise. Jerry had clearly been wrong about something: it was after six p.m. on November 28th, and he did not have the Grail. Nor would he ever, Karli assumed. He hadn't returned her texts, her calls. He had vanished.

In the meantime, Karli had received a text—one text, from Jass, on the group chat. "we need to talk." Caster had discourage replying, on the grounds that any response could give away vital information to the enemy. Enemies. Her dear friends, enemies. She had wanted to argue that point, but realized it was self-evident. Caster was all that was good, so were those opposed to him not necessarily bad?

Another deep breath, and she reached for the door knob. She heard a rustling inside, and froze, hand on that familiar knob.

Enemies.

Of course, she kicked herself. Caster wouldn't have been the only Servant to notice the orchids. That's why the man in white was here. Doubtless his Master was already in Jerry's office. Or maybe there was a third Servant on the scene. Karli quickly stepped away from the door and ducked around the wall so that if something exploded out of the office she would be relatively safer, even if only for a moment before she could attempt to flee.

"Who's in there?" she asked, quietly. "Raul? Onson?"

"Karli?" It was a woman's voice.

The door opened slowly, creaking. Rey McSriff stuck her head out. Her gray-brown hair was in braids, and she wasn't wearing her glasses.

"Karli!" she exclaimed, relief flooding her face. She stepped out into the hallway. "I thought I was dead when I heard footsteps." She held in each hand one potted orchid. The pots, Karli noticed, had been repaired along with the rest of the room.

"Rey!"

Karli felt the same relief. Whatever Jerry's experiment had sought to accomplish, it had succeeded in cementing the bonds between the seven students. Karli loved Rey deeply, in every way. She felt like they had grown up together, like they had raised each other, like they had shared everything they could possibly have shared. Her immediate fear was pushed back as she hugged her friend, all rationalizing about enemies forgotten.

"Karli, we need to talk," said Rey, stepping back, shrugging out of Karli's arms, still holding onto the plants.

Jass's words. "I know."

"No, you don't know. Listen. I'll share him, okay?" Karli blinked, confused. "You can have your pleasure with him whenever he's up for it, I won't bat an eye, I won't complain. I might even like it. Maybe we can have him together."

"What are you on about?" asked Karli.

"Karli, this is serious. You can have him, you can be had by him. I will do anything to make this work. Do you understand me?"

"Understand? You're talking nonsense." Karli dragged Rey into the office, further from the fighting down the hall. "Who are you even talking about?"

"My Prince," sighed Rey, flushed. She licked her lips, then sighed again. "Oh Karli, you're in for such a treat. I'll be a good senior wife, okay? We are going to have a beautiful family, the three of us."

Karli, at a loss, slapped Rey, and Rey dropped the orchids.

"Fuuuck, Karli!" Rey clutched her cheek, wincing. "That hurt!" She staggered back, resting with her butt against Jerry's desk. Then she put her hands at her sides and eased herself up onto the desk. She turned her reddened cheek to Karli. "Kiss it better?"

Karli wanted to, but how many minutes had passed already? How was Caster faring? Karli had to grab the plants and go. She and Caster would regroup at her dorm room, where he had begun building his territory. He wasn't good in prolonged combat, he'd warned her. Especially not without preparation. Most Casters had poor combat skills, he'd explained, but he was the worst of the worst: his legendary pacifism made him unable to do more than evade.

"We'll talk later, Rey." She moved for the window.

"Waaaait," whined Rey. She had Karli's right wrist in a vise grip. "You can't have those. They're our dowry."

Karli tried to worm out of Rey's grasp, but her friend was too strong. Each thing she said sounded more absurd than the previous. Karli had to get the plants and get out. Her mind focused on the solitary task, she pulled herself toward the windowsill, dragging Rey across the desk with her.

"This could be fun," Rey giggled. "I could stand to get handled by both of you at once."

Still freaked out by the false memories she'd entertained while staring into the smile of the man in white, Karli deliberately took stock of her memories of Rey.

This was abnormal behavior. The forwardness wasn't what was weird—it was the fixation on a man. Rey had experimented, as they all had under Jerry's supervision, trying on, as it were, a number of different relations. Despite the love Rey shared with the men in the group, she remained resolutely lesbian. With Karli's paradigms still reshaping, she nonetheless guessed this new behavior was the fault of magic. Some kind of charming enchantment, perhaps. Karli needed to act, and she decided that her friend simply wasn't in the room with her.

Karli twisted her arm, punching Rey at the same time with her left fist. Rey gasped and let go, and Karli took the opportunity to shove Rey to the floor. As Rey scrambled to stand, Karli scooped up four of the orchids and darted from the room.

"Got them," she called down the hall, to where Caster stood raising barrier after barrier of magical masonry, only to have them torn down just as quickly by the rapid onslaught from the other Servant.

Then she turned and ran, as fast as she ever had, making her way down the north stairwell and breaking out into the street. She was sure she looked a mess, hands red, gasping for air, clutching a bunch of potted flowers to her chest like stolen babies. Luckily, the police barricades were still up, and she was alone on the street. Praying to God that Rey would come to her senses, that Caster would survive, that no other Servants would show up before she was reunited with her Servant, she jogged raggedly toward Coral Tower.

# # #

The explosion had rocked the building, and with it the NYU community. All the buildings around Washington Square Park had been evacuated. NYPD and the fire department had shown up with barricades. Then the feds arrived. Sixteen years later, 9/11 lingered in the air, in the psyche.

Linda Bell, professor of English with research interests primarily around 19th century novels, had been one door over when Jerome Cormic's office blew up. Books flew off her shelves, and one of her own windows cracked as the walls buckled. She'd run into the hall, terrified, and left the building as fast as she could. People streamed out of 244 Greene Street, and soon there had been a stampede as people ran for the open space of the park.

She had been there. She had heard it, seen it, felt it. Her body ached from the dash, her ears from the noise.

So why, she wondered, for the first time in her life considering the fact that she might be one of the crazy people, why was this talking head on ABC News saying that there'd been a false alarm?

Alleged aerial footage of the scene showed no visible damage to the exterior. No rubble in the streets.

"NYPD is continuing to investigate the source of this hoax."

Linda screamed silently at her TV.