These folks who are born with magic and never get any decent training really annoy me sometimes. Letting the Jell-O zombie go before I had a chance to interrogate it? That's practically unforgiveable.

However, what's done is done, and with luck I can catch it again. And Penny is onto one good thing: who is Aeshma?

I look at Miracleman, waiting for an answer. I feel lighter somehow, but I dismiss it as the effect of vomiting so hard.

Hah! I have escaped Am-Chau's pocket (don't you just hate people who store everything in thier pockets? I can see why Gollum hated Bilbo). I straighten my skirt, lift my chin, and slip behind the sofa. Soon, soon, someone will open the door and I will be able to start my mission.

I have to find my master, Clovis the Great Devil Bunny.

"Aeshma? Oh, he's uh...well, you see...he's a guy I had to imprison in the heart of a mountain for five hundred years. Slips my mind why..."

Obviously, I think, Aeshma's back and hot on revenge. I don't suppose I could recommend a therapist to him.

"Five hundred years? Gosh, I can't imagine what he's so cranky about. Is he after just you, or is he a free form mayhem kind of guy?"

"Good question, Penny. I'm not staying around if he's after you personally, Miracleman, old buddy- no point in dying senselessly even with you," insert patented twisted grin here "but if he's free-form, I want to be with a few other magic workers."

I pat my pocket. I feel the need of a little comfort.

"He's, um...both, really. Free form, but if I'm killed along the way it's frosting on his cake. I think."

I ponder a second. "Or is it 'cream filling in his Ding-Dong'? 'Frosting on his cinammon muffin'? 'Marmalade on his toast'?"

"Butter on his scone?" I suggest, helpfully.

I'm sure I put the teaddy bear in my pocket before I left the house this morning.

//Dagfari? Is Edward at home?//

"Okay. Aeschma's a big bad, and chances are he knows about all of us here. One the plus side, I'm pretty sure my evil self is gone, and Miracleman took care of his bad side, and so far we've been able to cope with the jello and whatnot. On the other hand, Knut is missing, or maybe Knuts are missing, I have Instagolem who are chock full of evil dessert, and every time we open the door, all hell breaks loose."

I catch something with my peripheral vision. I hope it's not what I think it is.

"Also, Miracleman? I think you might have an infestation of some kind. I just saw something escape through the mail slot."

I start wandering back to Goblin Market, lugging two enormous bags of thrift store shopping goodies. When my evil twin vanished in a puff of clove cigarette-scented smoke, she left her half of the loot behind. I have no qualms about appropriating it.

I keep an eye out for one of the horse-drawn cabs that are turn up every now and then, because my feet hurt and I don't want to walk all the way home. As I'm scanning the street, a terrifying thought occurs to me - what if Pete got an evil twin? How would I tell?

I shake my head and keep walking. When I get home, I have to figure out what to do about Clovis' gremlin minions, and decide how to market those InstaGolem things.

Ugh. I'm not getting any sensible answers, and I'm freaking hungry. Maybe we can have some kind of summit meeting later, after I do something about my low blood sugar. Everyone seems so distracted, what with the vermin and the jello and the house moving around.

Also, I have got to find Knut. He's out there, maybe all bifurcated and weird. I'd feel awful if something happened.

Just then, an idea pops into my brain from out of nowhere, like I'm being paged by my own subconscious. Inspiration.

"Guys, I have to go to Goblin Market, and I have to eat before I fall over. Can you call me tomorrow? We can work on some kind of plan, maybe."

Hector and Am-Chau wave me away. Aimee and Miracleman are having some kind of discussion about housecleaning and chocolate cake. Nothing appears ready to explode just yet.

I step into the cool night; no monsters, no doubles, no craziness. I look at the stars and the blue-ringed moon. Someone is paging my brain again.

Bring take-out? Enough for four? Um. Okay.