I think I may have got on the wrong side of this Miracleman. Better explain, quick, before he blasts me or forces the t-word on me.

"Magic house," I say. Goddess, that was clear. "It's got to be a magic house."

"Well you came to the right town. This little townhouse we're in conveniently rests at the junction of two ley-lines and has a walk in closet that leads to any number of alternate universes as well as a wardrobe that goes to a somewhat annoying land full of talking lions and whatnot. Magic houses abound in Sang Sacre. The old real estate credo has been modified by the Sang Sacre Bureau of Commerce to read 'Location, location, enchantment."

ita's looking irritated. "Cookies? Lemon meringue pie?"

"Good."

I nod. The world goes black again.

"Aw, crap, there she goes again!"

I turn to ita (who I wish would stop polishing that blade in such a...meaningful way) and say "Looks like it's not gibbons. You don't appear to want food. I suppose you can go off and cavort with your doggies if you wish, though you're welcome to stay. This looks like she might sleep for a while and then she'll buy a house and undoubtedly unleash the forces of hell or the denizens of Ogden, Utah upon our fair and innocent *cough* town."

I wander back to the kitchen. "I wonder if this is another Gudanov situation. Maybe we should tell the Mayor that we have a new prospective citizen. And I think I'll have the roast beef."

Coming round, I decide not to nod for a while. And I'm more than a little concerned about the kind of company I've stumbled into.

But then. I don't expect a little adventure will kill me- after all, with the aid of a powerful wizard Bilbo got through. I try not think about my lack of skill at theft. Stealing the device that brought me here... no, not thinking about that.

Hector is peering down at me. I shut my eyes again.

the denizens of Ogden, Utah

Take it back, MM! Take it back! You know not whereof you speak!

Do you? t suspicious Just how much do you know of Utah?

Doggies.

I shake my head, wondering if he can be trusted to not eat the tiramisu.

I slide my gaze over to the card he's placed on a jumbled endtable.

Penny B. She's one of the new ones. She didn't shift things too much when she came into town.

I'd have pleaded with someone in Shadow to watch him and his unconscious new friend, but he said doggies.

He'll have to go unwatched for now.

"Boss, I think she's faking."

"All right, we'll find out. I'm brewing...the Special Blend."

"Boss! No!"

Oh, yes. The Special Blend. Mutant coffee beans grown in the lost caverns under the Himalayas by insane koboldean monks with a caffeine-high fixation. The soil they grow in is fertilized with the blood of yetis and the plants are exposed only to moonlight and high-intensity radiation. She won't be able to fake sleep after a sip or two of this stuff. She won't be able to fake the smoke coming from her ears, either. Muahahaa.

I open my eyes and sit up quickly at the scent of Special Blend floating through the room.

"Let's go and visit some houses I could buy!"

"You have, I assume, money that works in this world?"

Often they don't. Often it's etched quartz, or the shells of tiny squids or bags of dirt. All held out with a puzzled yet hopeful face and the expression "Is this enough?" I don't even want to know how the banks work out the exchange rate for 1400 pounds of manticore offal.