Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
released 20th January, 2023

Jim was ready to chuck the brownie at his idiot wizard brother's head. "You need to eat more!" he insisted.

"I don't," Douxie retorted. "I am doing fine, Jim."

"Bushigal you are," Jim spat back.

"Look, I'm catching enough to keep the both of us fed and feasted," Douxie protested. "And we're splitting it pretty even down the middle, yeah?"

Jim saw his opening and went for it. "Yeah, and you're the one making us magic treehouses every night, drying the wood and clothes, keeping fires going."

"That's small magic," Douxie protested. But he knew he was losing. Jim could see it in his eyes.

"Bullshit. Small but constant adds up," Jim argued, brandishing his brownie at Douxie. "You're burning off your body fat to keep us going, don't even try to deny it. So just eat the gods-damned extra brownie, okay?"

Douxie glared impotently at him. "Fine," he conceded, and as much as snatched the treat from Jim's hand.

Jim tried hard not to smirk in triumph. He wasn't sure how well he succeeded.

Judging by Douxie's glare as he took a bite, not terribly well.

Fortunately for Jim, the chocolate and caramel goodness eroded the edge of Douxie's irritation.

"So. More tramping through the woods today?" Jim asked after a few minutes.

Douxie shrugged. "Unless you have any better idea."

Jim didn't. "How do you know we're not going in circles?"

Douxie looked at him oddly. "You seriously can't tell?"

"No?" Jim gestured aimlessly. "It's been overcast or raining since we arrived, even when the sky isn't hidden behind treetops, so you can't be triangulating that way. Is there some secret moss growing on the north side of trees type thing you're using?"

Douxie snickered. "That one's a fallacy. Though it's usually more lush on the north side. But no. I'm going with something simpler."

"What?"

Douxie grinned. "Listen."

Jim closed his eyes and tried to do just that. His hearing wasn't as sharp in human form, but... "Birds," he reported. "Wind. Um. I think that's a squirrel?"

"Wind, yes," Douxie agreed with him. "But it's also water."

"Water?" Jim opened his eyes.

"Remember that river?"

Jim glowered. "Do I ever." A flash-flooded river that could have killed you was hard to forget.

Douxie gestured off to the right. "We've been following it at a respectable distance. It's as good a landmark to guide by as any."

"Huh."


Once Zadra was slightly less likely to slice-and-dice everyone, Claire opened a portal to Trollmarket, and Blinky and Aaarrrgghh joined them.

"Oh, my, you're a big fellow, aren't you?" Lucy cooed over Aaarrrgghh. "And a big boy's got to have a big appetite, right?"

"Pancakes, coming up!" called Ricky from the kitchen, flipping one out of his pan.

It stuck to the ceiling.

In fact, Claire thought, looking up, almost the entire ceiling was pancakes.

Aaarrrgghh opened his mouth wide. One fell in. He chewed experimentally, then swallowed. "Yum," he said, opening his mouth hopefully for another.

"Uhhh." The six humans in the room exchanged glances with one another.

"That's not hygienic, right?" Mary was filming Aaarrrgghh eating the ceiling pancakes. "Tell me that's not hygienic."

"Not for humans, no," Darci agreed.

"Wait." Aja's eyes widened. "You are telling me pancakes are not supposed to go on the ceiling?"

"Nope." "No." "Uh-uh."

Aja and Krel exchanged glances. Krel shrugged. "Humans are weird."

"Um." Eli pushed his glasses up. "Maybe we should go out to IHOP?" he asked. "Or, like, Benoit's or something?"

"Ugh." Aja rolled her eyes. "Ricky, no more pancakes on the ceiling," she instructed the robot. "Our friends are squeamish about germs or something. Again."

"Righty-o, my lady-o!"

"Hey, it's totally not our fault that you guys are awesome and made of crystal or whatever and so you can't get sick the way we can," protested Toby.

"Tell it to the hand," Krel said, holding one in Toby's direction as he snagged a plate for himself and expertly caught a pancake falling from the ceiling.

"So," began Blinky, snatching another of the falling pancakes from mid-air for himself. "What are our plans, now that the wider Arcadian metropolis has been exposed to a world about which few, if any, of them knew?"

"Well." Claire picked up a plate off the stack of them on the kitchen counter. "I'm supposed to go downtown in about half an hour and meet up with the other wizards, see if we can shift the bridge back inside the museum without Douxie. Mary, you in?"

"Ugh, fine," Mary complained. "It's not like the street's going to be usable for weeks, anyway. I don't see why the museum has a rush on it."

"Have you met Nomura?" Toby asked her. "Miss slice-and-dice? She's as scary as Zadra, here!"

Zadra looked equal parts offended and intrigued.

"Any word on how the existence of trolls and extraterrestrials is being received?" Krel asked, taking a bite out of his pancake even as Ricky flipped a fresh one directly onto Claire's plate.

"Too early to tell." Mary tapped at her phone. "Comments are going crazy, positive and negative. And then there's all the people who think it's fake and a stunt."

"My dad said he'd never seen anything like that before," Darci offered. "I think he was kind of shell-shocked about the whole thing, T.B.H."

"It was, indeed, a most glorious battle!" Varvatos agreed heartily. "Even if Lieutenant Zadra did not get to participate for lack of situational awareness."

Her glare could have made him into a pincushion.

"Ooh, ooh!" Eli waved his hand in the air. "I gotta say - Toby, your Nana? Was awesome!"

"Yeah, wasn't she just?" Toby smiled softly. Then his face shifted. "Though I still haven't figured out where she got the rocket launcher and grenades."

"Quagas liked her," offered Aaarrrgghh.

"Yeah, I saw them offering her nyarlagroth flesh." Toby shuddered. "I think she ate some," he whispered, clearly horrified.

Varvatos bellowed with laughter. "Varvatos likes an adventurous woman! And it was, indeed, most delicious feast-food. These 'Quagawump' allies of yours are fine chefs!"

"Indeed," said Blinky, nodding.

Toby and Claire shuddered as one. "Agree to disagree," Claire told them both.

"Uh... what's a nyarlagroth?" asked Steve.

"That big black demon worm thing that was chasing Blinky and Aaarrrgghh around the town square," Toby informed him.

Steve blinked silently for several seconds. "...People eat those?!"

"Indeed!" said Blinky. "It had an exquisite flavor, quite similar to the Quagawumps' renowned swamp maggots."

Steve hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. Like maggots. I could see that. Maybe with some barbecue sauce..."

"No sauce." Aaarrrgghh shook his head. "Raw."

"Raw? Like sushi?" Steve suddenly looked a lot greener.

Claire patted him on the shoulder. "Yeah, I'm not one for sushi either."


Douxie was in a good mood as he and Jim wandered in and out of forest and meadow. The latter had provided a lovely patch of nettle which ought to make a nice green addition to their meals once cooked. They had just walked back into the woods, and he was keeping his eyes open for any spiderwebs which might be magically repurposed into bowstring, when he heard a sound that made him freeze.

A snuffling. A grunt.

It was a very distinctive snort. He couldn't say precisely what made this animal sound so different from any other. What it was about the tone or cadence. Or perhaps something in the pitch or rhythm. If he tried to explain how he knew exactly what it was, the words would eventually devolve into notes and music and the way the world sang, and that would make absolutely no sense to anyone. (He knew. He'd tried to describe it to Archie at one point, and the dragon, his teacher, his protector, his other half and familiar, had just looked at Douxie like he'd lost his mind.)

"Jim," Douxie breathed, "don't move."

Jim, who had been grousing about his hand, because like a green idiot he'd tried picking nettle barehanded, obediently stilled and silenced.

Douxie tracked the sound in his peripheral vision, barely daring to breathe.

There, at the very edge of his vision, a bristly black snout framed by two ivory tusks. Baleful black eyes.

A woodland boar, in its prime.

And they were in its way.

Douxie's mind ran through a litany of rather a lot of the words he wouldn't let himself say, as his heart rate ratcheted up and his body tensed. "Be ready to run," he murmured.

"What? But-"

The boar screamed, and charged.

"Run!" Douxie yelled, bolting. The unfinished bow banged against his leg.

Behind him, Jim yelped. "What the hell is that thing?" he demanded, crashing through the woodland brush, hot on Douxie's heels. The boar was screaming and chasing them.

"A boar! They eat people!" Douxie shot back. Runes flared to life on his bracer. He spun them frantically, seeking something that would help. He didn't have a magical boar spear construct, he'd never needed one, that was clearly an oversight he'd have to remedy- "Come on, come on, come on!"

"For the good of all, Excalibur is mine to command!"

"Jim, no!" The armor would only slow him down and they needed to escape-

And then a thunderous roar. A shocked squeal. And a loud crash. Followed by another. And another-

Douxie skidded to a stop, his heart in his mouth.

He turned to see...

Well, he didn't expect what he did see, which was Jim, in his full troll form. He'd apparently dug his heels in, caught up the boar by its heels, and smashed it a few times into the neighboring trees, stilling even its strenuous objections.

The boar was fairly obviously dead. Jim grinned in toothy satisfaction.

"Well, that's... that's one way of dealing with a boar," Douxie said, trying to catch his breath. He attempted to wrangle a few wits together. Still staring, adrenaline pounding through him with the ratcheting pace of his heart. "Well done."

Jim smiled, the sunny expression somewhat at odds with the rest of the scene. "Thanks." He looked at the boar, which he was still holding by one leg. "Um. What do we do with this?"

"Well." Douxie blinked, trying to think. "Um. Well, either that could be some bacon and backstrap, or..."

"Or?"

Synapses began to fire, finally, in something like a proper order. "Or," Douxie said with more conviction, stepping forward, "we could use the boar as an offering to the forest lord."

Jim looked torn. The lure of bacon must have been stronger than Douxie had thought. But, "All right," he said, nodding. "Let's find out about the local powers-that-be. Powers-that-are?"

"Be," Douxie confirmed for him, summoning a knife to his hand. "Hold that still," he directed, before making a quick slash right where he knew a major artery was. Boar blood began to patter down onto the forest floor. "O lord of the woods," he murmured, "please accept this offering." Sky blue magic sank into the forest floor together with the blood.

And inside, where Jim couldn't see his fear, Douxie pled to forces unseen and unknown that he hadn't just made a colossal mistake. One did not simply summon a god. Unless, he supposed, one was a master wizard, able to talk and treat with them on... well, almost equal terms.

But though Douxie had been a master wizard, and hopefully would be again, he wasn't one right now.

An uppity apprentice, begging for the attention of a god?

Excellent way to become less than alive.


Douxie looked like he was more worried than he was trying to let on, so Jim didn't let himself relax fully into human form once the blood had slowed to random drops and Douxie indicated he should lay the boar down. Jim shifted to half-troll shape instead. Douxie had said Nimue's favor might be worth something, and in this shape Nimue's crown was obvious on his head. Plus, he could also wield Excalibur comfortably, instead of having it feel like a table knife in oversized troll hands.

"So what do we do?" Jim asked, kneeling beside his brother.

Douxie shrugged, his knife already sliding steadily through the boar's skin. It was an ugly creature, even by Jim's standards. And he was used to trolls, who routinely weren't pretty to human eyes. "We wait. Want to learn how to butcher a hog?"

"I thought this was for the forest god," Jim accused.

"It is. We're making the food into a feast," Douxie explained. "I mean, if you were inviting someone over, you wouldn't just give them a lump of cheese and a log of salami, right? You'd cut it up and make it all pretty for hors d'oeuvres first."

"And butchering a boar is the same thing?" Jim felt skeptical.

Douxie shrugged. "Makes it more accessible and easier to eat."

That... actually kind of made sense. "Okay," Jim said. "Teach me."

Douxie reversed his grip on his knife and offered it, hilt-first. "Time for you to learn the art of butchery, young padawan."

"Lemme guess," Jim offered, accepting. "You worked as a butcher in the 1840s or something."

Douxie snorted. "Nothing so formal. You forget, I grew up in the dark ages. Everyone knew how to do this sort of thing back then. Now, make a secondary cut from the groin, along the leg..." His fingers, hovering above the stinking, bristling skin, drew a line.

Jim followed the pattern Douxie made, and tried to listen and learn, while still being ready for anything.


Waiting was the hardest thing. It put Douxie in mind of hiding in the back of Arthur's throne room, listening to the supplicants, kept waiting outside the great doors, murmuring nervously to one another. Arthur had been known to be a fair king (...For humans, Douxie thought), but still. A king was a king.

Even the great Merlin Ambrosius had deferred to Arthur. Peasants and serfs certainly had no chance. Especially if the king was having a bad day.

After Guinevere's death, there had been so many bad days.

Now, mist slowly began to rise from the forest floor. The hairs on the back of Douxie's neck began to prickle. He repressed a shiver.

"Do you feel that?" he murmured to Jim, who had seized upon the similarities between skinning a rabbit and breaking down a boar. Douxie had practically seen the light bulb go on over Jim's head when he'd reached that breakthrough; the Trollhunter's moves were much more confident now, barely needing any correction from Douxie.

"Feel what?" Jim asked, his very blue eyes meeting Douxie's as his knife stilled.

Douxie wiggled his fingers, casting about for words. "Like something's watching us, breathing," he finally said. Awareness of the numinous was an eerie sensation. It was hard to describe.

Jim paused, his eyes darting around, searching for whatever it was Douxie was sensing. "No...?" he said. "Sorry."

"It's all right." Douxie forced a smile. "It's not something everyone is sensitive to."

Which was when the wolves started streaming out from between the trees.

Jim stood with a gasp, Excalibur appearing in the hand that didn't hold Douxie's knife.

"Wait." Douxie laid a hand on Jim's shoulder before he could move to attack.

"'Wait'?" Jim's eyes were large and incredulous.

"They're not here for us," Douxie told him, his own eyes tracking the wolves. Twenty or more of them moved between the trees now, appearing and disappearing in the mist. Pale, dark, brindled. "Remember Nimue's seals?"

Jim blinked. Then, "Oh," he said in another moment of enlightenment. Excalibur lowered, though it was not sheathed. "They're with the god?"

"I believe so," Douxie said, right before an enormous white stag, taller than a man, glowing in the mists, with an impossible rack, stepped out before them.

It was gorgeous. It was unnatural.

It was very much not a stag.

"My lord Cernunnos," Douxie said, going to one knee. Jim looked at him, then followed suit.

"My name here," said a deep, gravelly voice that almost seemed better suited to a bear, "is Herne."

Douxie looked up sharply at that, only to find the stag gone and a giant of a man, almost eight feet tall before you included the magnificent crown of antlers that still wreathed the god's head. His muscular arms were crossed, dark hair caught back into a low tail. His clothing, made of deerskin, was soft browns, matching his tanned, wind-rough skin. A bearskin cloak draped over his shoulders; behind it, a bow peeked out. A belt with many knives and a sword leashed his waist. The god glowered down at him; his green eyes pierced through Douxie.

Who did not miss the fact that the innermost layer of Herne's garb was made of tanned human skin.

Before him stood a god who hunted.

And men were fair prey.

Douxie swallowed. "My apologies, my lord. I merely wished to beg safe passage for my king and myself."

"A king?" Herne's gaze shifted to Jim, then widened. His arms uncrossed, fingers drifting to Jim's crown. "This is..."

"Nimue's crown," Jim said, eyes blazing, his voice much firmer than Douxie thought his own was capable of. Jim didn't know who Herne was, what he could do, and that made him brave.

"My sister has not chosen a champion for millennia," Herne objected.

"Nor will she," Douxie said.

Herne frowned and reached forward, rubbing something between his fingers. Jim likely couldn't see it; Douxie could, barely. Herne was examining Jim's aura.

Finally he looked back at Jim. "You bear my sister's favor, and carry a gem of immeasurable power. What need have you of my attention, little hunter?"

Jim bristled. "I'm not little."

Jim did not, Douxie noted, argue the idea of him being a hunter.

"Young, then." Wolves seated themselves at Herne's feet, tongues lolling. They looked innocent, playful.

Douxie didn't think Jim was buying their act any more than he was.

"We're lost," Jim said bluntly. "In time and... in place. We don't know why we're here."

A scoff from the giant before them. "You think I can help you?"

"We're supposed to help the trolls," Jim dogged on, standing. "We know that much. Can you point us in the right direction?"

Herne drew back, a look of surprise on his face. At Jim matching him, despite the intimidation? Or something else? "The trollfolk," he rumbled. He shook his head. "They are not my concern; they do not seek the safety of my shade."

Dubious safety, Douxie wanted to say. He bit his lip on the words.

"The ground-dwellers do not come within my forests, little king," Herne told Jim. He gave a wicked smile. "Perhaps they are wiser than you, to fear a place where they are not welcome."

"Perhaps they have no interest in becoming your prey, my lord," Douxie said, standing.

Jim tensed. "Prey?" he asked.

"All manner of beings are for my hunt." A giant hand stroked the head of one of the wolves. It closed its eyes and tilted up into the touch, in apparent ecstasy. Herne gave a wide, toothy grin. It wasn't particularly nice. "Especially trespassers into my wood." His gaze shifted to Douxie. "Especially wizards."

Jim tensed.

Douxie suddenly understood, for the first time, why Merlin had perhaps locked away this being. Herne and the Wild Hunt. "Why wizards, my lord?" he asked. "Who among us angered you?"

Herne's fingers tensed. "One of your kind, wizard," he growled, "was a thief, who stole from me and mine. From the world."

"A thief?" Douxie blinked. "Who?" And, what?


Nomura stood in the town square, considering the wreckage. There were others present, of course. Mostly shell-shocked humans or those who as yet had no idea what had happened the night before, loudly exclaiming over the wreckage and the new "statuary." She ignored them all, calculating.

Behind her, the shivering hum of a portal opening, followed by footsteps. Light, familiar.

Probably trustworthy, so she didn't bother to turn.

"Wow, this is even worse in daytime," Mary Wang said.

"The carrion eaters haven't arrived yet," Nomura replied.

"Well, excepting the Quagawumps." Claire Nuñez stepped up by her. "Wow. I can't believe they ate all that."

The nyarlagroth skeleton was... well, skeletonized. Clean bones in the morning sunlight.

Nomura decided. "I want the skeleton."

"What? Eww. Why?" asked Mary, who had her phone out and was panning down the length of the thing.

Nomura grinned toothily at her. "It's part natural history museum." She gestured at the skeleton. "I want this hanging from the ceiling in the opening hall."

"Whoa." Claire's eyes were wide, clearly imagining it.

"Oh. Em. Gee." Mary's eyes were wide too. "That would be awesome!"

Behind them, rubble crunched underfoot. "What would be awesome?"

She turned, regarding the fire mage who was apparently one of Casperan's other allies. "A complete nyarlagroth skeleton in the museum."

The wizard-she hadn't caught his name the night before-scratched at the scruff on his chin, considering it. Then he grinned. "Get it set up, and I'll bring my kids. They'd love it." His gaze sharpened. "Tannlaus, no!"

The kelpie, who had been about to sink his teeth into one of the nyarlagroth's ribs, hesitated.

"The skeleton's hers," the wizard said, gesturing at Nomura. "Go find something else to harass."

The kelpie sulked. Then it turned to obey. Nomura watched in amusement as it lifted a leg and pissed on a petrified Gumm-Gumm.

She would need to also claim a few of the more intact Gumm-Gumms for the museum, she realized. And get one or two of Arcadia's wizards working on some anti-gruesome wards.

She would have liked to claim Gunmar's remains as well, but they were, to a speck, gone.

She suspected the trolls of Trollmarket, but given the witch was still down there and capable of messing with her mind, she couldn't just march down and demand them back.

They belong in a museum! she imagined telling Vendel. Her mouth curved into a smile at the thought.

There was no way the old troll would get the reference.

Maybe she could enlist Draal...

"So!" another voice cut in. Nomura whirled, not having heard someone sneaking up on them. "What're we doing first?" The white-haired wizard grinned cheekily down on them, perched on the crook of his staff.

"Jack, I swear to god-" His brown-haired partner slogged through debris behind them.

"Come on, Jamie, hurry up!" Jack sing-songed. "You'll miss all the fun!"

Despite herself, Nomura's lips quirked up even as she saw the pink-haired witch also arrive in the square.

Wizards were nothing but chaos and trouble, but they were sometimes useful.

And against long ingrained instincts, she found herself actually liking this lot of them.


Herne glowered, ignoring his questions and lighting up every nerve Douxie had. They all shouted danger! in a way even encountering Nimue, or the Arcane Order, hadn't.

This was personal, and familiar.

Herne hated wizards. And Douxie was a wizard. Ergo...

The god might help Jim.

He intended to kill Douxie, for the sins of another wizard that Douxie had never even met.

Douxie's heart lodged in his throat as something more primal than adrenaline kicked in. He drew his bow even as Herne reached for his own. In the absence of string, blue magic cracked along the bow, pulling it into an arch. A ghostly arrow formed between his fingers, aimed at the god's heart.

"I," said Hisirdoux Casperan, "will not die here today."

"Wait, what?" Jim's gaze flew back and forth between Douxie and Herne.

Herne's snarl showed fangs. "I have killed more wizards than you have years, boy. You think you can challenge me?" His own bow staff was in one hand now, an enormous huntsman's knife in the other.

"Oh, more than nine hundred, then?" Douxie snarled back. Herne's eyes widened. "I am not prey for mortal men, my lord, and I am not prey for you, either."

"Douxie-"

He ignored Jim, and let the memory of a voice, and a promise, come back to him: No more running. And also, oddly, a line from a book: "The trouble with witches is that they'll never run away from things they really hate. And the trouble with small furry animals in a corner is that, just occasionally, one of them's a mongoose."

"I'm not running," Douxie bit out, "and if I don't run, I'm not prey. Go ahead and hunt me, Herne. It will be your doom."

Beside him, Jim fell into position, Excalibur held before himself, ready to attack. "He's mine," he told the god, the green gem at his brow starting to gleam. "He's my wizard, and you can't have him. If you try, I will kill you."

Herne bared his teeth. His wolves moved restlessly but held back, not attacking yet. The moment hung, suspended in amber.

"I have killed gods before," James Lake, Junior, said softly to the god before him. "To protect my people, I will do it again. Are you challenging me?"

Herne's eyes widened.

Douxie smirked, despite himself. "I've heard tales," he said, "of what happens to gods who go against their nature." His gaze bored into Herne's. "I imagine you have as well, my lord. Not pretty, are they?"

"What do you mean?" asked Jim.

"Gods are powerful," Douxie told him, never taking his eyes off Herne. "But that comes with a price. They're more constrained by their natures than those of us with less. Nimue, lady of the lake, must stay in water; she cannot live on land. And Herne, Cernunnos, master of the wild hunt... well." His grin felt bitter and toothy, even to himself. "For m'lord Herne to hunt something that refuses to run... that's not hunting, is it? It's slaughter." He let that sink in. "I've heard being unmade, losing your very nature, is an ugly way to die," he taunted the god, very softly. "I don't deny you probably could kill me, my lord. But is it worth your own death?"

Silence.

Herne's hand tightened on his bowstaff.

So did Jim's, on Excalibur.

Then one of the wolves whined, and pawed softly at Herne's knee.

He looked down at it. At all the wolves that clustered around him, their golden eyes pleading. Slowly, his hand lowered, relaxing around the bowstaff. His fingers drifted through the wolf's fur.

Then Herne looked up again. "Well played, wizard," he said. He was clearly not happy about being fought to a draw, but accepting about it. Rather like a few chess masters Douxie had known. Herne sheathed his knife, then his bow. "Know that you have made no allies this day. But you are not prey in my forests... today," he said in a measured tone. His gaze took in both Douxie and Jim. "Find your own way," he said, and turned to go.

The wolves streamed after him, tongues lolling out. One paused to look at Douxie and Jim just before vanishing between the trees. Douxie thought it was the one that had begged for Herne's attention. Now, it almost looked like it was laughing. Then it, too, was gone.

Jim sighed, and sagged.

Douxie didn't dare let himself show weakness. Not now. Not in Herne's forest. But he did release the magic, the bowstring and arrow formed of desperation and the deep-seated instinct not to die, vanishing. His bowstaff straightened, released from the tension of magic. Douxie slung it on his back, and looked around.

The boar's carcass was gone entirely, though he hadn't seen either Herne or his wolves eating it. "Well," he said, voice steadier than he felt, "it seems they accepted our offering."

Jim looked at him, then at the blood-stained ground where the corpse had been. "Accepted?" he squawked.

"We're not dead," Douxie pointed out. "Sometimes, with gods, that's the best you can hope for." Inside, he was suddenly very, very sure about just why Merlin had - would - seal Herne away. And less sanguine about his own prophecied role in releasing the woodland god. But for now...

"Come on," Douxie said. "Let's get out of here."


Author's Note: "It was a very distinctive snort" is a line my Wonderful Husband suggested as a reference to Leverage. Nomura's wanting to tell Vendel "It belongs in a museum!" comes from Indiana Jones. Which I feel is probably really not her favorite kind of movies, but I'm also pretty sure there's no way she got the qualifications to curate the Arcadia Museum without having been exposed to those films. The line Douxie remembers from a book is out of Terry Pratchett's Witches Abroad.