"What's that?" Willow turned her head to follow the odd trio that had just passed: a woman wearing a white baseball cap and carrying what appeared to be a club trailed by two students lugging backpacks.

"Oh, that's one of the Night Rangers." Sophia stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "Apparently, they're doing a brisk business since the incident in the dining hall."

"Were those… baseball bats?" Willow swiveled to face forward again.

"Yeah, what I heard is that a guy who coaches a tee ball team or something gave them some kid-sized aluminum bats. I think somebody donated the caps."

"It's a look, for sure." Willow looked at Sophia as they walked along Amherst. The night was cool and there was enough breeze off the Charles to make a jacket a functional necessity rather than a fashion accessory. Sophia had on her varsity jacket over black leggings. Willow wore her peacoat over a pine-green hoodie. "Are people really that scared? I mean, we're talking about, what, four things?"

Sophia shrugged. "I don't know, I think it's more nervous. Look at us, you can say 'It's only four things', but we're talking about it. The writing on the mirror thing was freaky, then you add in seeing people who, like, aren't there, it's a thing."

"Well, sure, it's a thing, but is it a thing?" Willow shook her head. "I mean, a utility rack tipped over."

"A utility rack that was designed to not tip over. By itself, it probably wouldn't be that much, but add it to everything else… Hey, I heard that the girl at Wiseman, she heard somebody behind her, like, talking in her ear. It scared her and that's why she fell."

"How do you know that?"

"Girl in my Physics class lives down the hall from her. They took her some of her assignments and that's when she told them." Sophia shivered in the darkness. "I think that's what it is, that weird element that can't be explained, stuff like always puts people on edge, plus all four examples of weirdness involve female students, and…" Her shoulders hunched inside her jacket. "It's like that poem Lucian mentioned. When weird stuff happens to women, it's… it's just scarier."

"I guess I hadn't thought of it like that. Have they-" Willow awkwardly mimed swinging a club "-anybody?"

"What? No." Sophia laughed. "Everybody's just a little nervous and they're trying… they're trying to help people feel safe, that's all." It was easy to feel safe in the consistent golden glow provided by the campus streetlights.

"I guess… How's Lucian?"

Sophia lifted her eyes to the heavens. "Lucian is like a twelve year old girl who got a front-row ticket to see Britney Spears."

"Really?" Willow's nose crinkled. "Still?"

"I know, I know, but…" Sophia's hands described large arcs through the air. "I know he sounds like a bad standup sometimes, especially when he's teasing Quan, but Lucian is really, really into that big picture kinda stuff. He wants to be a Big Science guy and Zelinger hits him right where he lives."

Willow hitched her backpack up on her shoulder as she walked. "I've been reading his book."

Sophia glanced behind them as though she thought they might be followed. "I have been, too, and I'm starting to agree with that girl Erin."

Willow's eyebrows drew together. "The girl from the train?"

"Yes, the girl from the train. Don't tell Lucian I said this, but the more I read the more it sounds like mumbo-jumbo. Mr. Dubose might be right."

"The old guy who sat beside us, with the overcoat?"

"Oh, yeah." Sophia nodded. "That was a nice coat. Anyway, I'm not going to say anything like that to Lucian. I figure I'll let the buzz wear off gradually."

"Yeah." Willow glanced up at the night sky. "How long do you think that'll take?"

"I don't know," Sophia said. She laughed and in the cool night air it sounded like a glass chime.

Willow zipped up her hoodie and looked in the mirror. Navy blue would have to do. She pulled up the hood and practiced tucking her hair inside, then turned her head back and forth.

Morse Elementary was across Memorial Drive from Magazine Beach, and its playground would offer the best view of anyone approaching the park, but the city of Cambridge had, probably wisely, fenced in the playground. On the Granite Street side, however, a stately old tree stood some two feet from the fence; the sidewalk jogged around it and the space between the trunk and the wire was a nice little niche in which a redheaded MIT student could hide. It offered an excellent view of Brookline and the roundabout where it intersected with Memorial, and it was where Willow ensconced herself at eleven-thirty, hands in her pockets and eyes alert.

A half-dozen young women walked along Brookline, all chattering and wearing white. Willow rolled her eyes. The girls passed under Memorial. In a few minutes, three cars rolled along Brookline, took the roundabout, and pulled into the parking lot at Magazine. Willow slipped from her hiding place and kept to the shadows as she moved around the perimeter of the fence and followed the previous groups footsteps to the pedestrian underpass at Memorial. She paused in the gloom for a moment and made sure her hood was secure, then crept into the park and followed the bike path and its convenient screen of trees until she drew abreast of the Sisters of Tituba, who had gathered in the open meadow beyond the softball field. They definitely weren't secretive and didn't seem nefarious, but Willow watched closely as she insinuated herself into a group of four fairly mature trees growing just off the path.

She couldn't tell exactly how many young women were gathered in the field. As Willow watched, one girl (Sanderson, maybe) produced a plastic bag. Each young woman present reached into the bag, then arranged themselves into a circle. A flame flared in the darkness, then a candle flickered into life. The holder (the young woman with the bag) held it out to the person next to her, who lit her candle from the flame, then repeated the gesture to the person on her left. It continued until all the candles were lit. Willow counted the bobbing flames: ten people present. Her mouth twisted. "Surprised it's not thirteen," she muttered.

The flames guttered as the attendees began to sway; a low, moaning susurration drifted through the night air. Willow placed a hand on the tree trunk and leaned forward, trying to hear what they were saying.

"Tituba, sister to us all, wrongly accused, wrongly shunned,

Tituba, hear us, hear our song.

Tituba, sister to us all, oppressed of men and race

Tituba, hear us, hear our song.

Tituba, sister to us all, held without mercy, made to pay for our sins,

Tituba, hear us, hear our song."

The incantation ceased and the participants blew out their candles, although they were still visible in the semi-gloom. There was a beat of tense silence broken by a round of giggles. One of the young women reached into her backpack and pulled out a white bag, which she passed around. Willow leaned around the tree, trying to see what was happening and was rewarded by the sight of… cookies. She exhaled and her knees shook with relief as her body relaxed. This was no witches' coven; it was just a bunch of college students play-acting. There was no intention, no purpose, none of the power of Amy's mom, or even Amy. So much for learning anything tonight. She shook her head and flexed her knees, preparing to sneak away from her hiding spot.

The prickling in her scalp was sudden, and so strong that her eye twitched. Her hand jerked involuntarily toward her hairline; the patch on her head tingled like an electric wire had passed across it. The itch was maddening. She wanted to dig her fingertips in and scratch until dawn. She stumbled and thought she saw spots dancing in front of her eyes, then realized that the light had actually changed. Willow looked up and gasped.

It wasn't that it was impressive, it was simply that it existed: a sputtering, wobbling circle, like a shoddily-improvised Catherine Wheel drifting through the night sky parallel to the ground. It was hard to say how high above the earth it floated or its actual size, although Willow had the impression that a bicycle could fall through it. Wavering streamers of colors in the indigo and violet range were cast off from the thin, fluttering orange circle and trailed into the ether as the apparition's rotation lagged, then sped up.

Willow heard the screech and squeal of brakes and turned to see traffic on Memorial snarl as some drivers slammed on their brakes while others swerved to avoid a collision and raced onward; apparently the vision in the sky was visible to anyone who cared to look. The Sisters of Tituba could certainly see it; the girls on the field screamed and tripped over each other as they scrambled toward the exits. Willow shrank back and tried to disappear into the rough bark of the tree she hid behind, but she didn't have to worry. No one was looking for her as they tried to clear the area. The air was a cacophony of blaring horns and the babble of human voices raised in fear or wonderment.

The circle spun, stopped, and wavered, then flared brightly and collapsed on itself. There was the suggestion of a wisp of smoke in the night air, and a ripple like heat shimmer rising from the concrete on a summer's day, then Willow blinked as the lights of Boston obliterated any trace of what had been. There was a charged moment of silence, then the thrum of traffic on Memorial ramped up to its previous volume; the whole incident had taken less than two minutes. Willow leaned against the tree and concentrated on slowing her breath. When she was sure that all of the 'witches' were gone, she pushed away from the tree and began her walk back to campus, taking advantage of the chaos to blend in with the foot traffic that included several members of the Sisters of Tituba. She stuffed her hands in her pockets to hide the trembling.

The Sisters of Tituba didn't have any magic, but somebody did.

She was trailing the group making its way up Vassar when she felt the crawling sensation along her spine. The athletic fields were on her right; she shot her gaze in that direction, but saw no one. Some of the white-clad SoTs had peeled off and headed to their destinations, but there were still four girls ahead of Willow. One by one, they also drifted away until Willow was alone, half a block from the dorm. When the last girl disappeared, Willow felt the tingling grow, and she increased her pace even as she told herself there was no one there.

The tension eased as she turned onto the last section of sidewalk, the path well-lit and homey. Willow exhaled and reached for the door, then recoiled. For a split-second, a fraction of a heartbeat, it was not her reflection in the door; the face she saw had a distended mouth, black lips, and a lolling tongue that dripped thick mucus. She blinked and it was gone, replaced by her own wavering reflection. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry; she tried to reach for the door again, but her arm remained stubbornly at her side. She jumped when a young man with long braids bundled at the back of his neck brushed past her as he made for the door; the brief, incidental contact broke the spell and she moved forward, but she slipped in behind him without touching the door herself. She shivered and went straight to the elevator, the sounds of the students gathered in the common area a dull and distant rumble.

She glanced over her shoulder as she waited for the car, then pressed her back against the far wall after punching the 'close door' button repeatedly. Flickers at the corners of her eyes made her gaze jump back and forth. It took an eternity for the doors to even begin to close, then they inched together with agonizing slowness. When the panels finally clicked together, Willow felt dizzy; she realized that she had been holding her breath.

She hurried from the elevator to her room. Her hands shook and it took three tries to unlock the door; it didn't help that she kept looking over her shoulder. A girl raised her hand as she approached and Willow tensed, unsure if it was a gesture of acknowledgement or a first strike. The girl passed by. Willow felt the lock click open and almost leaped through the opening and slammed the door behind her.

Her heart leaped into her mouth as the darkness closed around her. Her hand slapped against the wall and scrabbled, finally finding the switch. She flinched as the light snapped on, but the room seemed empty (although a creature could be hiding under the pile of clothes on Quan's bed). She remained flat against the door until she was satisfied there was no hidden danger, then crossed to the window. Using two fingers, she moved the curtain slightly and looked out at the sidewalk. She saw nothing.

She dropped into her chair and breathed deeply. Nothing had followed her, nothing was wrong, the image in the door was a distortion of her own reflection, the result of nerves caused by whatever had appeared in the sky over the park. Nothing was out there. Everything was normal. She repeated this to herself until she believed it, but she still waited to brush her teeth until she heard another girl headed toward the bathroom.

When she woke up with the sun coming through the window and Quan softly snoring in the other bed, Willow felt better. Yes, something magical, something otherworldly, had been present at Magazine Beach, but she had allowed her awareness of it, her knowledge that magic existed, to spook her. In the warm light of day the previous night's jitters seemed like nothing more than the creations of an overworked imagination. Willow actually hummed a little tune as she headed toward the showers.

"Man, have you heard about last night?" Sophia dumped her backpack on the floor and dropped into one of the easy chairs. The sound of sneakers and boots on tile slapped and clicked around them as Willow shrugged.

"Something over by the river?" the redhead asked.

"Everybody's saying there was something in the sky, it, like, almost caused a giant pile-up. A bunch of guys in my engineering class were trying to figure out what it could have been."

Willow kept her attention on her Calculus assignment as she asked "Any ideas?"

"Ah, a lotta hot gas about atmospheric disturbances, electrical flux, one guy thought it might be aliens." Sophia shook her head. "I didn't pay much attention. I've got an Intro to Design project that's taking up my headspace, although the 'aliens' guy might have been serious."

"You're kidding." Willow glanced up from her work.

"No, I'm not. I think he's really pushing aliens… or something." Sophia rolled her eyes as she picked up her own assignment. Forty-five minutes passed as they went deep into their school work. Willow finally closed her book and blinked.

"Oy, I think I'm about to petrify." She stood up and stretched. "See you at lunch?"

"Sure." Sophia finished stuffing her notebook and pen into the backpack. "Catch you then."

"From the general tenor of today's conversation, it appears that some of you attended a lecture at our pretentious cousin situated at the other end of Mass Avenue." Dr. Jessica Potter wore a scarlet jacket with black-trimmed lapels and black trousers. "Very well, hit me, as you Yanks say." A general groan rose from the class. "Yes?"

"What do you think of Zelinger's thesis?" The voice from the back was reedy, but definitely male.

"Well, what is his thesis?" Dr. Potter's eyebrows rose into two perfect arches.

"Um…"

"That there are other dimensions."

"All right, let's look at that." Jessica began to pace the stage, which caused Willow's pulse to race. Whenever the professor started stalking, the brain was about to be engaged. "Now, what is Zelinger's support for that statement, hmmm? Anyone? Anyone read his book? Yes, you."

Willow lowered her hand. "Well, he starts with string theory."

"Yes, but so have many, many others. What is his particular contribution?"

Willow bit her lip. "I think most of the multiverse string theorists think that the different dimensions are separate, or that they can touch each other, but he thinks they do touch each other, that they kind of... overlap."

"Oh, don't stop now. You're doing a splendid job." Dr. Potter walked to the edge of the stage and bent forward from her hips, hands in her pockets, leaning toward Willow.

"He says that dark energy and dark matter, like we talked about in class, are the evidence of the two worlds meeting, that that's where the dark matter comes from."

"Has he any support for this argument?"

"Uh, he just kinda... says it."

"Any other claims?"

"He… his hypothesis is that when people put themselves into altered states and have visions, that they've managed to make themselves vibrate at the frequency of another world, and they're experiencing it."

"An excellent summary. Now, do you think he's correct?"

Willow's eyes widened. "Well, you can't prove it, at least not… objectively?"

Jessica Potter grinned as she pivoted to face the rest of the class. "Zelinger makes what is known as an unfalsifiable claim. We, he, cannot prove whether or not his statement is correct, but neither can we refute it. Is dark energy the residue of the interaction between universes? I suppose it could be, but can we state categorically that it is? No, and one of the key elements of good philosophy and science is the recognition and avoidance of unfalsifiable claims whenever possible. Such a claim might be a first hypothesis, but then what must we try to do?"

"Prove it's true."

"Or not."

"Correct, both of you. We must always admit that there is much more about the universe- notice I used the singular- that we don't know than we do know. Accepting unfalsifiable claims is abdicating our mission to try and increase our knowledge." Jessica returned to the center of the platform. "A statement may remain unfalsifiable... Good lord, I've said that word so often it's starting to feel odd in my mouth... but we cannot simply accept that it is, particularly if it is one we agree with. You see, that's the seduction of the unfalsifiable claim. It feels right, it satisfies our desire for an explanation, especially for a simple one, and so we accept the just-so story and stop thinking and that we cannot do. We must subject all claims to examination. That's what it's all about. If Dr. Zelinger can prove his woo-woo, I welcome the debate. If he cannot, it's still woo-woo, no matter how well-polished. See you next session."

"This is not the goodness." Willow bit her lip.

Sophia winced. "No, it's not."

They were waiting for Lucian and Quan to show up for lunch, and while they waited they looked at two posters, one professionally printed and one hastily done in Sharpie. The professionally printed one was mounted inside the glass display case and announced an official statement by the president, several of the deans, and the head of campus security; it would be broadcast over Channel 6 and StreaMIT. The other one was stuck to the wall with tape and said that a rally would be held at Eastman Court that night to 'address the troubling events on our campus'.

"Which one was first?" Willow asked.

"That one." Sophia nodded toward the rally flyer. "It was up at breakfast this morning."

"Do you think it's really a big deal?" Willow hugged her books to her chest and looked at her friend.

Sophia shrugged. "I don't know. They're holding it at Eastman, so… if I was holding a big event, I'd do it at Killian with the dome behind me, so… maybe they don't think it'll be that big? That or they couldn't get permission to have anything at Killian."

"Bureaucracy, it'll get you every time." Willow shook her head.

Sophia sighed. "What about the school one?"

"That's pure cover-your-ass chickenshit."

"Oh, hi, Quan." Willow glanced down at her roomie, then returned her attention to the notice. "Although it does have a definite aura of 'something must be done, so we're doing something' about it."

"Did you hear the latest bullshit? They're trying to say it was some kind of jacked-up fireworks." Quan sneered.

"Who are 'they'?" Willow asked.

"You know, they, them, those guys."

"Ah, that 'them'."

"Screw you."

"Should we wait for Lucian?" Willow asked Sophia over Quan's head.

"Nah." Sophia drifted toward the dining hall door. "He'll find us. He always does."

"Jesus, you fuckers are revolting." Quan mimed gagging.

"Hey, is that Derek?" Sophia waved at the stream of students flowing past them.

"What-" Quan's head whipped around for a beat, then the tiny girl turned on Sophia. "Low, dumbass, really low."

"Hey, he could've been there." Sophia grinned. "Come on, let's get lunch." They worked their way through the serving area and arrived at a table. They had just gotten settled when Sophia looked up and said, "What did I tell you?"

"Ladies." Lucian spun a chair around and straddled it. He leaned toward Sophia and they touched foreheads.

"You two make me want to puke," Quan grumped.

"It's okay, you'll find someone," Lucian said. "Oh, hi Derek."

"I don't fall for that shit twice," Quan hissed as she picked up her soda, then gasped and sputtered.

"My dude." Derek clasped hands with Lucian, then leaned down to look at Quan. "You okay?"

"F-Fine," she coughed out.

"Okay." Derek straightened. Willow wondered how he made that wispy scruff of beard look groomed. "You guys all right?"

"You know it." Lucian nodded. "What are you up to?"

Derek shook his head slowly in a motion Willow thought of as 'the weed wobble'. "Not much. Got tickets to see Counting Crows at the Orpheum on Halloween."

"Nice."

"Indubitably." Derek bit his lower lip and nodded. "Hey, see you guys around." He pointed at Quan. "You be careful, don't choke." He winked and strolled away.

"Oh my fucking god," Quan moaned. "That was the most embarrassing shit ever."

"See, I told you he could be here." Sophia twirled a forkful of pasta.

"Did that make you happy, did my humiliation make you smile?" Quan scowled.

"Little bit." Sophia put down her fork. "I'm sorry. I mean, it was funny, you have to admit."

"I don't gotta admit shit." Quan's expression lost some of its ferocity. "But I woulda laughed if it had been you, so, okay, I earned that."

Willow took a drink of her soda. "Why don't you just talk to him, Quan?"

"What, you think I'm hung up on that asshole? As if." Quan shook her shoulders and drew herself up to her full, diminutive height. "Like I'm interested in getting attached to any one person."

"Okay," Willow said. "Good to see you keep your freedom." She nodded toward Lucian. "What's that?"

"This?" He held up his hand, fingers fanned. "7-Up green."

Willow nodded. "Yeah, I see it."

Lucian took a bite of his burger and chewed. "You guys see the flyers?"

"Definitely," Willow said as Sophia nodded. Quan looked bored.

"Anybody gonna go?" Lucian swiped a fry from Sophia's plate. She mock-slapped at his hand as Quan rolled her eyes.

"I think I might," Willow said. "You know, just to stay informed."