Look at this. I've received my first piece of mail. Hmm, let's see...

(Billytea, if this ends up with giant spiders running loose in Sang Sancre, I will be very, very cross with you. IJS ...)

I scratch my head. There's no return address. Maybe it's from the zoning commission? If so, I'm quite impressed with the personal touch. I wonder what the tax office here might be like? "We cordially invite you to the upcoming auction of your house."

Anyway. Giant spiders. I believe the major worry there would be the link to the Amazon, some bird-eating spiders can have a legspan of a foot or so, and a body length of 4 inches. Of course, the wandering spider, though not as large, is far more dangerous. Very aggressive, likes to hide in shoes and other dark spaces, and - obviously - tends to wander. And possibly the most venomous spider on earth.

Well, the letter doesn't actually specify keeping them out too, but maybe I'll double-check the barrier. Can't hurt to be sure. Though they turn up in America in banana shipments anyway; maybe a couple more won't matter?

...No, maybe not. I'd better check again. I think I'll set up a fruit bin on the Amazon side too.

Ugh. My recent meal is not sitting well. As Am-Chau sidles closer to Hector, I slip away to find a bathroom. Zar starts to follow, but I shake my head and wave her off.

I run the faucet and try to suppress my gag reflex. Not sure what damage half-digested Jell-O skeletons can do--possibly a plumbing disaster of immense proportions--but I'd rather keep them contained.

I glance at my reflection just as someone starts shouting about the mirrors. Dizziness washes over me, the room twisting kaleidoscopically. Then I'm fine.

In fact, I'm better than fine. I feel strong in purpose, certain of the righteousness of my cause. I straighten my shoulders and thrust out my chest, then turn to rejoin my comrades.

"Ho, friends! Art prepared to brace the evil in its lair? Our cause is noble, our hearts are pure!"

Everyone's staring at me. Well, what of it?

"Friend wizard, wouldst tell us of our foe?"

"What kind of Jell-O was that?" Penny asks Miracleman.

The blowhard's gone. Finally.

I stroke my goatee. (His was red, mine's black. Of course.) I feel liberated, freed from all the strictures society places upon the weak. I want to use my new-found freedom. I want to pick my nose in church and trip old ladies and, well, there are so many dastardly things I want to do that I don't know where to begin. At last I am free!

Except for the fact that I'm stuck in this 20" X 40" medicine cabinet mirror. It's going to be a tight squeeze.

Something about this smells of lettuce, that is false and not of the true cabbage. Was it the Jell-O?

Hector takes my hand, and although I nearly gag at the spongy texture, I allow it, because we both need reassuring right now.

I watch as a mass of construction demons gets to work on expanding the gateway to hell and installing some cargo elevators. Other demons are already hard at work making plans to convert this city into a special hell annex, something about cell phones and theaters.

"Good progress boss?"

"These things always take longer than you want." Bored, I turn away from the demon's work and look into my crystal ball to see the fruits of my works. Curses, all the evil reflections are staying in the mirrors. I grab my dark, twisted staff and pound it to the ground in anger. A wave of evil power, smells like nutmeg oddly, bursts out, freeing the reflections from their two dimensional prisons.

I turn back to watch the demons. Boooring. "Let's go get a drink and maybe hurl some curses upon the houses of our enemies just for fun." A pick out a dread curse of solicitation and head out with my minion.

I think you should take a look at this. My computer says while I'm trying to fix a stubborn quantum flux gate.

I look at the video display. Uh oh.

Is he a threat?

"Yeah, I think so. We'll have to do something about this."

I suggest that he be eliminated.

"That's your answer to everything. I think I'll just have to visit the genetic lab and work on the garden." I pause to take another bite from my yummy vine-ripened purple orange. "Sure he might have a bunch of portals to different climates, but he won't win the Sang Sacre gardening club's garden of the month award without a fight."

So, he should be killed?

"No, no killing. Start doing some calculations to see if I can improve on my royal blue roses."

But no killing?

"No." Again I resolve to find the bloodthirsty bug in the AI software. Probably forgot a break in a switch statement somewhere. Oh well, no time now, I have a gardening award to defend.

"Ho there? Who talks like that? I don't talk like that."

I turn to Aimee and the others. "I don't, do I?"

"Occassionally," Aimee mutters.

"Huh. Well. Nice red goatee, too."

"'Nice red goatee'," a voice sneers mockingly. It sounds damnedly familiar.

"Oh. Shit."

My double steps from the mirror. Where my longcoat is grey, his is deepest black. My staff from nice solid oak is darkly mirrored in something that appears to be iron. My Captain Marvel t-shirt and khakis has become...a rather nice suit, actually.

"Evil has more style," he says.

"Yeah, but good...good has...good, you see..."

"Oh, shut up," he sneers. "You and your 'I'm on the side of good'. 'I'm only using my powers for good'. 'I can't do that...it wouldn't be good'! Well FUCK good!"

I see the shift in his aura and react. Before he can launch his no doubt devastating curse I bend space/time and transport him away.

Well, that's what I meant to do...

A psychic force entangles me and drags me into the bend with my evil twin. We hover over Sang Sacre, a few feet apart, brandishing our staves.

"You're gonna get it, Goody Two-Shoes," he snarls. "You're the good Miracleman. You have to play by the rules. I'm the bad Miracleman. I don't have any rules." He raises his staff.

I turn him into a chicken. Squawking he begins the long plummet to Earth trailing feathers.

"Good...bad...I'm the guy with the mojo."

Free! Free at last! Free to--hm. Must ask Miracleman who installed his tile. After I DESTROY him! Erm. This giggling thing is getting out of hand.

Quick mental calculations: Wizard, Other Wizard, Golem manufacturer, Psychic wild card, Bogeyman, Good Me. I'd quote that bit about discretion and valor, but it doesn't really apply. I just want to get my pretty little butt out of here before it gets smoked.

I'll take the window. These curtains . . . nice valence, too. I must get the number of this designer.

"Well FUCK good!"

The Miraclemen both blink out of the room, and I look around at the others.

"Such vulgarity," I sniff. "Does not this fair city have a Department of Standards and Practices?"

"Fuck that," says Hector. "Where's the boss?"

"Are you feeling all right?" Penny whispers to me.

I take a deep breath. "Yes, fair one, I am well, though I am itching to smote someone. I am still unclear on who is behind all this devilry."

"Um . . . guys?" Aimee is standing at the window, looking up. "I think I found Miracleman."