"What do you think?"

A man was standing in front of me. He had long wild black hair and dark brown skin. His wide white smile, minus one top left tooth, glowed in the dark.

"Alberto?"

"Yes. What do you think, Virginia? How do I look?"

Alberto was wearing a tacky flowered-print dress that hung off one shoulder.

"Oh my. You look uh…really great."

He grunted and shed his clothes instantly, appearing as the last time I saw him–naked except for a linen loincloth.

"You are a bad liar," he said.

I was in the jungle. In the Amazon. In the home of Alberto Chitza. This was clearly a dream.

The hut was exactly as I remembered it. Three big logs burned on the ground in the center of the hut, the lit points touching each other, forming a perfect three-pointed star. A hammock swung from two house beams to the right. Where I slept for three months those years ago.

Alberto had helped me understand my gift more than anyone. He taught me how to work with the threads. How to recognize the different manifestations of matter. He was a good teacher. And so much more.

I looked at the edge of the hut, where the pulse of the jungle, so much life packed into one place, vibrated and roared. "I forgot how beautiful it is here."

I looked especially hard at the small clearing of banana trees to the left. It was where I threw up every night for two weeks. It started a few days after I arrived. A quietness would fill my head. This was inevitably followed by a roar. Like a bear had snuck up and growled in my ear. Five minutes after that, I would throw up. Every night at 9:06PM. "And I'd like to forget that."

"La Hora de Vomitar," Alberto said. "The puking hour." He howled with laughter. "You were not happy about that, Weaver."

I had to smile. "Well, who would be? At least I got smart about dinner time."

"That is true. But you had a warriors' heart. You acquitted yourself quite well. The spirits do not pick just anyone to test so vigorously. To cleanse and prepare so vigorously." He looked across the fire at me. "Why are you here, Weaver? Back so soon for lessons?"

"Here in the jungle in the middle of the night? This is a dream isn't it? I'm not really here am I?"

"What is here? But a perception of a time and place?"

"Well, considering you're speaking perfect English, I'm pretty sure this is a dream."

His lips began moving in a smooth dance. Producing sounds I could barely absorb. He was speaking his native tongue–Shuara.

"How about Spanish?" he asked. But even his Spanish was too fast for me.

I held up my hands. "Alright, alright."

He laughed loudly again and slapped his knees. "You eagles are so gullible."

Eagles–people from the north, America. More specifically, people from industrialized nations.

"You are wrong, Weaver. The eagle is a beautiful animal. It is fast, cunning. Master of the skies," he said, obviously reading my mind.

The ground rumbled and shook. A massive figured emerged from the dense tree line.

"Oof!" I said, getting knocked into a wall by the Tapir. "Hi Vega. How've you been?" I asked the five-hundred pound beast as she nudged my hands into rubbing under her chin. I wouldn't say Vega is Alberto's pet, but she was always around. Looking for company and leftover leafy greens.

"I cannot believe that bitch outlived me," he said, watching her ample sassy bottom walk back into the jungle.

"Now, you know you love that girl…wait…Alberto, you're not here anymore? You died?"

"I transformed, Weaver," he said, flapping large imaginary wings.

"I didn't know that. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? I am free," he said then smiled. "But I see you have come far in your journey too. You have mastered your sight. Become friends, allies, with the Fabric."

"Oh! Well, yes, I suppose I have more control now." Mostly, that was because of him. "Thank you."

"You are welcome." His smile was brief. "But you have not mastered yourself," he said. The scene shifted around us. We were suddenly in the falls. A beautiful spot down one of the river arms where the abutting cliffs provided warm rushing water down into an alcove. The water was up to my chest.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, but he ignored my question. He continued to stare at me. I broke eye contact with him as I noticed movement in the water. All around us. Snakes. Swimming slowly toward us.

"Fear can be a useful thing, Weaver. But not when it controls you."

"What do you mean? I'm not afraid of snakes."

"That is true. But you are afraid of something," he said, his eyes shifting, glowing and piercing me. "It sits deep in your mind, hunting, preying."

The muddy water camouflaged all but the dark spots on the snakes' bodies, creating a zigzag of spotted ripples on the surface of the water. They were Anacondas. Most of them no thicker than my arm.

"It is a trickster," he said. "Pretending. Waiting. Hiding."

The snakes closed in on me. They began wrapping their bodies around my arms, my torso. "What is a trickster? What is waiting?" I asked him.

"Providing false dreams," he continued.

The snakes wrapped around each other, using the combined strength of their muscles to squeeze me tighter. "Alberto? I really need some help with this one." My lungs were starting to shrink.

"You know what you must do," he said.

The Anacondas were suddenly so heavy. I struggled as they pulled me further under the surface. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Do you know why they squeeze so much harder, Weaver?"

I could barely hear him. The only thing above the surface now was my nose and mouth. I struggled harder as water seeped into my open lips.

"Because you struggle."

…

My eyes peeled open. I was in my bed. At Antoinette's house. I sat up, immediately regretting it. "Ow." My head hurt. My back hurt. My arms ached. How had I gotten here?

I swung my legs off the bed and made my way to the living room.

"Hey, there." Newton's voice softly caressed my mind. She was sitting in the living room on the barcalounger. "How are you feeling?"

I plopped down on the couch. "Like shit. How did I get here?"

"You don't remember?"

I nodded then scooched farther into the corner of the couch as Roscoe joined me.

Antoinette cannot pass a stray dog on the street to save her life. In fact, she'd throw herself in the street to save a stray. As such, she has collected three pooches so far: Roscoe, Baldwin, and Ruby. The boys, Roscoe and Baldwin, are no less than seventy pounds each. Ruby is a thirteen pound mutt. She rules those boys, and Antoinette most of the time. While Baldwin was passed out in a dog bed in the corner, Ruby sat on the carpet in front of me, as if making sure I was getting the attention I needed. Roscoe sat closer, pressing his big 'ol body into mine, putting his paw on my knee.

"I don't remember," I replied, watching Roscoe's soft brown concerned eyes study me.

"Well," she said and leaned forward, "You passed out in the corn maze. Antoinette and I got you to your feet and brought you here. You've been asleep for six hours."

"Oh," I said dumbly.

"What's the last thing you do remember?"

"Uh," I searched my memories, coming up short. There was only flashes of events and images. "Bees…no! Wasps, hornets, hundreds of them. Jeezus Newt, did you see that? That herd of giant hornets?"

She said nothing. She continued to study me, like I was a strange new insect.

"What?" I asked.

Lydia swept into the living room at that moment. Her tie-dyed skirt and layers of linen and knit blouses and scarfs flowing around her. Her necklaces, all adorned with crystals, gems, feathers and beads, clinking and chiming as she walked. She handed me an ornate cast iron teacup, steaming from the top, and set a tray of green things on the coffee table. "Hey Lydia."

"Oh you poor thing. Look at you." Did I look that bad? Stings! I suddenly remembered.

I threw the quilt off and examined my bare arms, felt my back. There was nothing there. "What happened to all the stings? I sure as hell remember that. Did I get treated at the hospital? Did one of the coven heal me?" I could swear I saw Newton's face fall just a bit. As if she felt sorry for me.

"Drink that tea dear," Lydia said. "It will help you recover and detox from all that negative energy."

"Thanks." I took a sip. "Oh my goodness. Lydia," I said, my lips curling in defiance. "What is in this?"

"All good things, dear." She smiled brightly, her long dangling earrings swaying. "Dandelion root, burdock, lemongrass, cayenne powder, licorice root, rosehips, a pinch of cinnamon, an infusion of garlic, and eye of newt," she said, winked and giggled. "Just drink it. You'll feel better."

I looked down into the noxious mysterious liquid.

"Oh!" she said, and rushed back into the kitchen, returning a second later with a half a lemon. Which she squeezed into the teacup. "That should make it go down smoother."

I tried to appear reassured. I took another sip. I was not reassured.

I spotted my cell phone lying on the coffee table. It was flashing at me. I touched the screen. I had a call from my mother.

That can't be good. Mom generally doesn't call me unless it's important. She's not big on small talk. I typed in my password and listened.

"Virginia…it's your mother." Like I didn't know that. "Honey…is everything ok? Your energy has been popping up all over the aether for days now. Is something going on? You know I don't generally worry. For things will be what they will. But…just call me when you get this message. I want to know you're alright." She paused. "Of course you're alright. But call me anyway. Love you."

Nope. Not good at all.

"Newton…Alberto is dead."

"Alberto?"

"Alberto? The shaman?"

"Oh! Wait…how do you know that? They don't exactly have hard lines in the jungle."

"I just spoke to him. He came to me in a dream."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Virginia."

"Me too." Alberto was not just a mentor, he was my friend. "But he seemed really happy."

"So, what did he say? Did he talk about what happened today?"

"Uh…no. He was trying to tell me something. Something about fear. Maybe my serious fear of giant hornets."

She smiled sadly then shifted in her chair. "Virginia, there were no hornets."

"What? But you saw them. I saw both you and Antoinette casting."

"It wasn't a mass of insects. It was a spell."

"What?!" Now I was really confused.

"Antoinette and I, we felt the magic being called from across the maze. It was all around you. All over you."

"Well…is everyone ok? Did anyone else get hurt? Where is Antoinette?"

"She's fine. She's running an errand." Newton's voice softened. "But…"

"But what?" I asked.

"Your little friend."

"James!" I shot from the couch. I couldn't remember much. But I had a single image of him, his face, and blood.

"He's ok, Virginia. He just had a bloody nose. But I think you may have caused that."

I sat back down heavily, feeling a weight pushing on my chest.

"I interviewed him before…before we left. He doesn't remember a thing."

I didn't have to ask. The cold countenance, the cold recall of the events, and how she said the word 'interview', I knew she had bespelled him.

"Newton, what did you tell the staff? The parents?"

She grinned mischievously. "As far as they're concerned, James fell and you fainted from low blood sugar."

"Ah." I touched my forehead. I felt so bad. But now I felt worse. My two worlds had just collided. Putting a child in danger. I had put a child in danger. "Well, what the hell kind of spell was that? And from whom? Was it one of our coven?" I asked, suddenly angry.

"I don't think so. And I don't know. I've never tasted that kind of magic before. It was compounded, complex." I lost Newton as her eyes drifted off.

Before I could ask her what she was thinking, Antoinette burst through the door. "Hello sisters of Norwood County," she sang. Normally, Antoinette's feminine warmth and brightness makes me happy.

"Hey," I said sourly.

"Oh man. How are you feeling? You look…better-ish. Has Lydia's foul tea helped you forget how shitty you feel?"

Lydia blew out a breath and shook her jangly head. "You girls."

I wanted it to be funny. I just shrugged.

"Well, you aren't going to believe what I found." Antoinette sat down next to me on the couch. "While you were napping, I went to see Jared. One of my clients."

I frowned. It seemed an odd thing to do in the middle of a crisis.

"Not for that." She frowned back. "Jared is a researcher at the university. He has access to lab equipment that I don't."

"I don't understand."

"After the incident, we discovered something. Well, Antoinette did," Newton said.

"Yeah, I discovered something alright. V, what do you remember? From the time you took off into to the maze when you left us," Antoinette asked.

"Like I told Newt, almost nothing. Antoinette, Newton says I didn't see or hear what I thought I did. And that it was a kind of magic. What the hell happened out there?"

"When we found you, I noticed something on your jacket. You were covered in dust. But not normal dust. It had a weird texture and blackish-red hue. I took some of it to Jared." She pulled a manila folder from her purse and opened it. She began reading. "What we found was a heavy duty cocktail of organic and inorganic materials in the dust." She looked at me. "You were drugged."

Alberto once said that dreams are the real world. And that this one is the illusion. I was feeling the truth of his words. I slammed back the rest of Lydia's detox tincture with gusto.

"Holy witches tits," Lydia breathed.

"From the solvent, the machine was able to identify hypnotics, sedatives, even an anxiolytic." Antoinette rattled off several Latin labels and a few complex pharmacological names with ease. I had forgotten Antoinette was a Chem major. "But the most prevalent substance was Hyoscyamus niger." She closed the folder and looked at me. "Henbane."

"Stinking nightshade," Lydia added darkly.

Newton threw herself back into the barcalounger and hung her head.

"What is it?" I asked.

"This is bad."

"Yeah, I was drugged. That's real bad."

"No, the particular drug. You girls," Newt said, shaking her head. "You need to spend a little more time with the book. If it's henbane, and these other compounds used to induce hallucination, this definitely means this is a witch. There are accounts in the Ngoa'bliss of henbane being widely used in the early 20th century. To induce trance. To provide witches with visions, into the past, present and future."

As Newton spoke, I began munching on the green things from the tray. The first one went down a little rough. Very chewy, but it tasted good. The second one went down easier. The third one I took like I hadn't eaten in weeks. It made my spine pop and tingle. My skin vibrate and hum.

"Henbane went out of favor when witches began getting sick." Newton continued. "Headaches, tremors, nausea, a few deaths even occurred. But this person obviously favors traditional warfare. We may be looking at a rival coven. Though," she paused, "that hasn't happened in decades."

"Holy cold witches tits," I said, agreeing with Lydia, my voice squeaking with excitement, and with whatever was in those green things. "Traditional warfare?" I stuffed another three green things in. "Rival covens?" And five more. "Fucking balls! It'll be a witches war!"

"Dearie," Suddenly Lydia's hand was on my arm. "You'll want to slow your roll there. I did make those specially for you. But they should be eaten with care."

I looked up at her with a leaf hanging out of my mouth. "Why? What's in them?"

"They're kale chips dear. But! I did pull some of the finer energies down from the higher vibrating lines into the recipe." She snapped her fingers and pointed to the ceiling. "You know how juicy the Fabric is the higher planes!"

"Kay." I nodded, like I did indeed know what she was talking about. Sometimes Lydia operates on a level even I can't compete with.

"I think," Newton continued, "That this witch is responsible for the beatings too."

"What do you mean? Like the couple, the guy, from earlier today?"

"Yes. And the two brothers from last week."

"Well, they were acting strange like him. Like they didn't know what they were doing. They both almost seemed to be hallucinating…"

"Henbane." The four of us said then smiled. Though my smile hurt for some reason.

"She's been using henbane to induce visions in these people. To coerce them to beat their loved ones."

"But why?"

Newt nodded her head and asked me again. "Virginia, you didn't see anyone?"

"Besides Aislinn? No."

"Aislinn," Newton whispered.

"No, no. She stepped in and helped me remember?"

"Awfully convenient though," Antoinette said. "Maybe this is more about the summons."

Antoinette and Newton shared a look. I really hoped that we weren't getting that petty. That we saw witchly conspiracies everywhere.

"No," Newt said. "The summons is done by the council. She can't affect who is summoned. No one can."

"Wait! I do remember seeing someone in the maze." The memories from the maze were starting to trickle back. "It was…a girl. No! A young woman. Maybe in her early twenties. Long dark hair, pale skin."

"Did you recognize her?"

"No. I've never seen her before."

"Was she a witch?"

"I think so. Shit, I don't know now. I could've hallucinated that whole thing too."

Newton then leaned into me. "Virginia," She lowered her voice, her expression softening. "Why didn't you stop? Feel the magic. Call the lines?"

"What are you talking about? I was drugged."

"I'm not talking about that. Using drugs against another witch is just a cheap shot. I get that. But before that. The magic probably preceded the drugs." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair as I brought my feet up, hugging my knees. "This afternoon for instance. You could've stopped, called time, called a single moment, slowed things down. Or changed his manifestation somehow. Then you could've searched for her thread. She's attached to the Fabric like everyone else."

"Newt, you know how much it takes out of me to change things."

"I know Virginia. I know. But…"

"But what?"

"It shouldn't have to."

Newt wasn't trying to be a bitch. She was trying to tell me something. I just didn't know what the hell it was. She finally sighed, patted my knee and sat back. Somehow this action, this small gesture, was worse. Much worse.

Lydia shot from her chair. "Oh! I almost forgot! I made a special poultice for your face. It's been congealing for a while."

"My face is congealing?"

"No silly. You've got some nasty cuts though."

I reached up and delicately inspected my face. I had little welts all over my cheeks and forehead.

"Thanks Lyd." I smiled gratefully at her.

"We figured you probably got those when you belted through the field. Thank god you had a jacket on," Antoinette said.

"Yes. And my paste should have your dermis healed in no time." Lydia jingled and jangled back into the kitchen.

"Newton, maybe this isn't about a single witch. Maybe it's more about the election itself. It can't be a coincidence that the council seat goes up in a few days?" Antoinette asked.

Newton blew out a heavy breath. "Right. I hadn't considered that."

I blew out a breath too. I was her Vinstri. I was part of my job to advise her about aether activity. I should've considered that. "You know Newt, with the elections so close, this may not be about me. She might be after you. The fact that I'm getting drawn into it may just be a coincidence."

There, I felt a little better. Though I could feel my mother cringing across the aether. Using the C-word in my house as a kid was worse than the F-word.

She shook her head. "I don't think so. But it's certainly a possibility. Ruling anything out at this point would be unwise. But I think it's clear that she's targeting you. I think this witch, or maybe even more than one, is trying to draw you out."

"To what end?"

"I really don't know." She sighed, revealing an emotion I'd rarely seen on Newton Hunter's face: confusion. "But we need answers. We need to find this witch before she hurts anyone else."

Newton paused and fixed me with a strange glare. "We need to go see her."

A sinking feeling came over me. The 'her' to which she's referring, is Claire–my mother.