"Federal Express."

At this time of night? The delivery man looks pale and drawn. I'm instantly suspicious.

"Sign here, please."

I scrawl across the electronic pad. Not my name, of course, no use giving that power to anyone. Let them seek to do ill to David E. Kelley. The bastard.

I examine the label. "Hogwarts? Never heard of it."

"Harry Potter," Hector says, reading over my shoulder.

"Who?"

Hector sighs. "Really, boss, you gotta pay more attention. Harry Potter. The books? The movies?"

"That disfigured child in the glasses, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Why would he send me...?"

"No, boss. It's fiction. Hogwarts isn't real."

"Oh." I ponder that a moment. "OH!"

"There it is," Hector grumbles.

The envelope shakes a bit in my hand. I think I hear an evil chortle.

"I see. Well, then. Get me a box, please."

Hector does. I conjure a UPS label and fill it out. The delivery address is obscured, but a simple enchantment assures it will go back to the original sender. I mark the box (not usually found on UPS labels) "SUPER REALLY URGENT!! GET IT THERE NOW! YESTERDAY EVEN."

"Hector, can you take this to the local UPS establishment?"

"It's closed, boss."

"Oh, just drop it in the night slot. They'll deliver it first thing."

"You're slightly paranoid, aren't you?"

"More than slightly."

(Could I ask a little favor? I never give the penguin any dialogue, and I really rather you guys didn't, either. Feel free to use him for anything else (sticking him to a wall with velcro is always comedy gold), but please don't have him speak. If you want to interact verbally with a bar employee, I really rather you did it with Phred or Phrancis or even me. Thanks.)

Sorry, DX. I fixed the post to make the penguin mute, but threatening. Is that okay?

(Not a problem, David. Or Penny.)

(edit: Mute is fine.)

I feel unequipped to thank this woman for her hospitality, so as she leads me towards the boarding house I try to make conversation. I'm a bit rusty.

"What year is it?" I ask.

She raises her eyebrows at me. "2003. Just turned."

"2003 . . ." Thinking in terms of the human calendar is an effort. "That means I've only been gone a year."

"Oh? Where were you?" she asks.

"Underground."

"Oh. Really? Listen, if it was my place I could maybe let you lay low a while, but I really like Mrs. Thorne, and if there are cops looking for you . . ."

"No. No cops."

"Government? I'm sympathetic, believe me, it's just--"

"It wasn't that kind of underground. It was more the underground kind of underground. Deep within the earth, that kind of thing. Crust and mantle and tectonic plates."

"You don't say. I'm Penny."

"Knut." I take her hand very carefully. She doesn't seem particularly fragile, but I'm fairly certain her bones aren't made out of granite. "Penny . . . have we met?"

Have we met? Good question.

"Well, I'm new to Blood. The only person I know around here is ita, but I haven't seen her much. I know Jesse and Vortex from another dimension, but. . . wait. Knut the Difficult?"

"Difficult? Yes. Yes. That definitely sounds like me."

"I do know you, sort of. We met a long time ago, at a kind of literary Salon, and a bunch of people who used to go there ended up scattering to the four winds. I go by the same name, but others have changed identities. Actually, if you don't mind me saying so, you seem to have changed quite a bit, too."

"Yes." He drifts off. This doesn't seem to be a happy topic. There is an awkward silence, and I am glad when Mrs. Thorne opens the door.

"Everything all right, dear?"

"Fine. Fine. Mrs. Thorne, I have a friend who needs a place to live. He's very quiet, and very low maintenance."

Mrs. Thorne glances at Knut, employing whatever internal radar she has in her power. She seems satisfied.

"He can have the green room on the ground floor. It's not fancy, but I don't think you'd want that." We follow her into the house and down a passsageway. Mrs. Thorne takes an extra set of keys from her pocket and hands them to Knut.

"You can keep whatever you like in the fridge, as long as it doesn't eat other people's groceries. No parties, and no overnight guests without letting me know first.You can use the sitting room and the garden, and I serve a buffet breakfast at 7 a.m. for anyone who's up. No extra charge for the dog, but you supply whatever he needs."

"Thank you,. You won't be sorry," says Knut. Mrs. Thorne pats his enormous forearm and leaves us.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"I'm not sure, Knut. You seemed to need something, and I sometimes do things on impulse. Hell, that's why I was at Milo's in the first place."

"What were you looking for?"

"I was looking to fight evil, but I'm not sure where to start. You interested in that kind of thing? Fighting evil, I mean."

When I finally come round, Dagfari (the house, in case you missed the telepathic memo), has tided up, unpacked my few possesions, and replaced the things I was missing but really need (like my toothbrush. He explained that well-bred vampires really knew the need for a toothbrush). I hope they aren't stolen, but when I tackle him with that he just says, "You've been out for hours, lady. I have a few friends who helped," and I decide I don't want more information than that.

After breakfast, I set up the magical balancing tools. (They were in the back of a cupboard, all neatly put away with the proper protective spells, although without a password. I nearly asked Dagfari, but then didn't. The last thing I need is to be upset again.) It takes care and attention, in which process I learn much about the patterns of the place. Blood is one exciting city.

There's a newcomer - an old friend to some, new to me - but he's balancing things up a little. Not that Blood will ever slide off the scale, unless into laughter or porn. The little black and white static I keep getting eventually turns out to be the penguin speaking: it's countered by a talking rabbit having a rant. Yes, everything is good in Blood.

I go back to bed.

Ryan knocks on my office door.

I'm busy looking out my window cultivating my existential pose.

"Boss."

"Hmmm."

"Bunch of evil stuff is happening."

"How're we stocked for Fiendish Flit?"

"Four cases."

"Okay, well make sure the residents all have a can handy. It's extra strength right? The stuff that makes Cthulu sneeze?"

"Yeah."

I muster a sigh, trying to get that perfect world-weary spin on it. It comes out petulant. I clear my throat.

"Awww, fuck it, let's go unlock the armory too."

"I was looking to fight evil, but I'm not sure where to start. You interested in that kind of thing? Fighting evil, I mean."

"Well . . . it's a Yoda thing, I guess. You know, the 'wars don't make one great' thing. But sometimes it's necessary. In fact, there's something going on right now. I was going to ask DX about it, or at least if he knew how to get in touch with ita. You don't know where she is, do you?"

Penny shakes her head. "We were hunting the other day, but I haven't seen her since."

"Ah. Well, she works alone a lot, and she's more attuned to the Balance than any of us. Likely she's already at work."

A thought occurs to me. I'm still attuned to the earth and I ought to be able to check for . . . impurities, so to speak. I do a slow scan of the ground of Sang Sacre, the tunnels, the basements, the secret lairs -- a fierce blast of infernal energy stabs at me, and I feel wards strengthened to expel my consciousness.

"Yeowch!" That was painful. Zar pauses in her scratching and gives me a disapproving look. I'm still a little stunned that Mrs. Thorne could see her.

Penny raises her eyebrows again. They're getting a workout.

"I think I found the problem." I take the key Mrs. Thorne gave me and fit it to the lock. "But until we know what we're dealing with, there's no point charging in. We need more information." I swing the door open, and see glowing letters on the wall:

"What can Miracleman do for you today?"

"Huh," I say as the letters fade. "That might be a good place to start."