I thank the clerk and walk out of the second-hand store empty-handed, wearing the same formal dress I'd entered in.  She'd been very helpful, letting me try on a variety of clothes in the dressing room, and her English had been better than my shitty Portuguese.  I turn into an alley and glance around to make sure I'm unobserved, then hold a discarded newspaper over my chest for a moment, lowering it slowly.  When I've dropped it completely, the dress and heels are gone, replaced with a smart little jacket over a blue tunic, brown leggings, and a pair of scuffed but comfortable suede boots.  I hold the newspaper over my right shoulder and hold my breath, but sure enough, when I drop it again, a battered backpack is hanging there.  I hadn't been sure that would work, but apparently since a backpack is "worn", it's close enough to clothes to count.

I feel a little bad.  Not as bad as I'd probably feel if I'd gone along with my first thought, to trade in my dress...which, being a QC imprint, would've vanished not long after I'd left the store.  What I had done, just imprinting stuff in the dressing room...wasn't exactly stealing, unless you believed anti-file-sharing propaganda, but I still would've preferred to at least have given her a sale for all her help.  But it wasn't an option, since I don't have any cash.  That's my next project, though only as means to an end.

My real concern is that I need answers, and none of them are in Lisbon.  Augusta is safe enough...safer without me...but I don't think I can risk another trip into the Between.  Even in just the short wait we had before Elio plucked us out, I could already hear the Whispers starting...only the knowledge that Augusta needed me with her to negotiate with the healer kept me from bailing out at the first soft hiss.  I was so relieved when we came out, it actually helped me...restrain myself from doing anything to him.  It didn't make me feel any better, but it also helped that he was obviously terrified of me.  When he'd calmed down a little, I'd bartered away the remains of Circe's custom inscriptions for treatment, but I think he might've been willing to agree to anything just to get rid of me.  In fact, when I was going to have him fix my leg issues as well, I got so worried he might try something, I nearly lost my grip and set him on fire.  But in my panicked efforts to control myself, I somehow came up with an incantation to fix my own legs.  It was frightening, for both of us.  I need to know what that language is, how I can pronounce it perfectly without really knowing what the words mean, and how perfect incants are just popping into my head.  In any case, without the advantages of traveling via Conjure, I have to find some other way back to the States, and that means cash...enough for a fake passport good enough for airports, or illicit passage on a cargo ship or something.

So, I've decided to rob an armored car.

Dangerous, but as much for them as for me, if not more.  I want to play this smooth, so they don't even know anything's missing until the count at the end of their route.  But when I feel threatened now, my instinct is to lash out, and it's hard to stop myself fast enough.  If anything goes wrong, it'll go really wrong, and on top of hurting people, local mystics would notice...  But banks will have subtle wards or even a Seer watching over several at once, like a mystical remote monitoring service.  I'm hoping there are just too many armored cars in the city and not enough money in each for it to be worth the effort it'd take to protect all of them magically.

I realize I've been standing in the alley, lost in my thoughts, and begin heading downtown.  I'm trying to stay focused, but I'm scared out of my wits.  I've considered just turning myself in, begging for Council help, maybe getting some leniency based on what...happened...with Circe.  But it's the details that I'm trying not to think about that make me think any positive outcome there is really unlikely.  Plus, I don't want to go to them at the same time as Augusta does...if they start thinking of us as connected, it might put her in a bad light.

I don't fully understand what's happening to me, which is why I need answers.  It's obviously related to having stayed in the Between too long, to the Whispers...but it's not quite the same as what I'd heard before.  All the stories said people completely lost their minds, started hunting people down and killing them as violently as they could manage, depending on their own physical and magical capabilities.

I don't think I've lost my mind...at least not entirely.  If I stay around normal people, it's not so bad, I just have to stay calm.  But when I'm near a mystic, I immediately start having vivid daydreams...daymares?...of incantations in that strange airy language, endless ways to kill or worse, all painful, all permanent.  Somehow, I can see auras now too, which makes it harder not to recognize other Sorceresses, even at a distance.  I've taken to staring at the ground when I walk.  I think it's only my compass that's been letting me keep from acting on these impulses...sort of letting me 'navigate' my thoughts to a safe 'place', if I'm fast enough?  But it's nerve-wracking, as if I'm walking around with a toddler that can kill people if I take my eyes off of her for a second.

All of that means I can't earn money in the normal, easier ways from mystics, and thus my 'daring' heist.  Fortunately I shouldn't have the problem of figuring out routes and schedules, if my compass cooperates...as long as it's not too overworked from constantly helping me avoid magical massacres.  It points the way to a bus-stop bench in a busy commercial area, and then goes wonky, which I decide to interpret as it pointing to 'later', so I settle in to wait, watching all the stores.

Noon comes and goes, and I'm trying to decide how long to wait...my stomach complains at the dozens of pedestrians passing by with street food, and odors from nearby restaurants.  I'm not used to missing meals...my compass might eventually decide I need food more than money.  I'm a little surprised it's cooperated as much as it has already.

To my relief, a bit past one, an armored truck does pull up in front of a busy electronics store.  My compass is still misbehaving, but I ignore it and start slowly making my way over, doing my best not to stand out in the other pedestrian traffic or look like I'm staring.  My knowledge of armored cars or their procedures is sketchy at best...my idea had been to slip into the back with a little magic while the door was open, fill my backpack with bills while they drove to the next stop, then slip out the same way.  But almost immediately, I discover a snag in my plan.  I'd assumed both guards rode in the front and then one went in to get the drop-off and bring it to the back of the truck.  But I see one of the rear doors open and a guard step out of the back.  He re-secures the door and then heads into the store.

I flounder for a moment, then quickly adjust the plan a bit.  It can still work, I'll just have to do the cash-grabbing portion of the caper while he's going into a store, even though that means I'll have much less time.  But I still have to get inside the truck in the first place.  I look around, but there's no convenient alley nearby for me to change in, and there are far too many people on the street to do it unnoticed.  I head into the store itself and manage to find a ladies' room for customers, then duck into a stall, closing the door behind me.

I sit down, centering myself on one side of the seat, then shift.  Once I'm a mouse, standing on the cool plastic, I pause for a second.  I've never been particularly squeamish myself, but if I just run out on the floor, odds are some lady's going to do the TV thing and shriek, and I can't afford that attention.  Instead, I block my gravity entirely, then leap straight up.  I twist in the air to land feet-first on the ceiling, digging my claws into the squishy tile so I don't bounce off.  Once I feel secure, I move as quickly as I can manage over the ceiling to the door.  I have to wait half a minute, but eventually someone else comes in and I carefully climb 'over' the top of the door frame, hanging on tightly.

Now back in the store proper, I reorient myself and make a beeline across the ceiling towards the front doors.  To my horror, I see the guard, who is already making his way towards the exit as well.  He has to navigate around shelves and customers, so I have a slight advantage, but I don't think I'm going to get to the door before him.  I move as fast as I can, more gliding now, with only occasional pulls to boost my speed and adjust my course.  I'm maybe a step ahead of him when I get to the doors, but I can't stop myself and thud into the wall above them, dizzying myself.

As the guard opens the door, I do the only thing I can think of, and restore my gravity, dropping down toward him.  I reach out desperately and manage to grab onto the back of his shirt collar.  But he clearly feels the tug, and his hand looms towards me.  Before he can touch me, I drop again, hooking a claw on the back of his shirt halfway down and swing, angling my fall towards the canvas bag he has in one hand.  I flail my limbs wildly and barely manage to catch onto the bag, then become as still as I can manage while panting for breath.  The bag swings around as he turns, and I imagine he's looking around for whatever fell on him, but I can't see his face, which I hope means he can't see me either.

Sure enough, after a moment's puzzlement the guard continues through the door and back to the truck.  He turns a key in the back door, but it doesn't open until he calls out and knocks on the truck to get the driver's attention.  There's an electric click and then the door swings open.  The guard removes his key and climbs inside, pulling the door shut behind him.  He tosses the bag I'm hanging from into a bin with similar bags, and a small squeak escapes me as I'm mashed between layers of heavy canvas.  I instinctively cover my mouth with a paw, holding my breath, but the truck starts driving and it seems like he didn't notice.

It takes about five minutes to drive to our next stop, which gives me a chance to catch my breath, though my heart is hammering at an alarming rate, even for a mouse.  I automatically start to calm myself to avoid succumbing to any impulse to remove the threat magically, but I realize I haven't been prompted with any such options, even though I definitely feel endangered.  Is it because I'm a mouse at the moment?  I suppose I don't have the vocal apparatus to incant properly...  I'm a little distracted as well because I've noticed that my compass is pointing insistently to somewhere outside the truck, the direction changing consistently each time I feel the truck turn.

When the truck stops, I resist the urge to peek out at the guard and just wait instead for the sound of the door opening and closing.  As soon as it's shut, I clamber out of the bin and restore myself, beginning to count in my head.  I'm not sure how long he was in the electronics store, but I don't want to risk being interrupted, so I commit to hiding again when I reach sixty.  My count falters as I reach for the nearest bag, however.

I stare for a moment at the small lock holding the zipper closed.  Why can't things ever go smooth?

I suppose it's meant more as a discouragement than serious security, but I don't have any means of opening it, nor of cutting the sturdy bank bag.  A cursory glance over the other bags reveals some without locks, but when I check them, each one holds only rolls of coins.  I start looking for small bags with locks, ones that will fit into my backpack whole.  If the guy from the back does a count every time he comes in, I'm screwed, but I can't think what else to do.  I stuff a couple inside, and I'm looking for one more that might fit when the rear door of the truck suddenly swings open, revealing the driver.  He's in a "shooter's stance", legs spread, gun in both hands extended towards me.  He barks something in Portuguese, I assume telling me not to move, but I'm already frozen in shock.  Had he heard me moving around from the front?

He takes a step back and says something else, I catch the word for 'out'.  I desperately try to think of some way out of this.  I can't transform, or Vanish...even if I were willing to risk the latter...without something to block his view.  I could fit into one of the bins on the walls, but they didn't have lids.  I could cover myself with bags, maybe...but would he just stand there and let me?  It's not as if I'd be escaping from his perspective, but he might shoot me on general principle.  The driver repeats his demand, more harshly.

I hear strange syllables and for a moment before I realize they're not just in my head, but coming out of my mouth.  I actually bite my own tongue to stop it, not thinking, and I let out a small noise of pain.  My skin goes cold as I realize what's happened.

I've interrupted an incantation.

I don't even understand the language so I can't begin to guess what's going to happen, but I drop into the fetal position, covering my head with my arms, and tightly shut my eyes.  In the face of an incomplete incantation, it's about as rational as "duck and cover", but at least I won't have to see whatever uncontrolled horror results from the miscast.

I feel a burst of intense, painful heat over my entire body, and see a white flash even through my closed eyelids.  The driver cries out, and my ears are set ringing by the terribly loud crack of his gun going off in the enclosed space.  I'm half-deaf, but I can vaguely hear that he's still speaking, and there are other noises.  I brace myself against who-knows-what and open my eyes.

White.  White everywhere.  Like a paint explosion, but perfectly dry.  The walls, the floor, the bins, the bags, my clothes, my skin, the driver's clothes and skin.  His eyes.  He's groping blindly with one hand while waving the gun around wildly in the other.

Despite myself, I relax a bit.  If this is all that happened, I got off very, very lucky, though I'm trying not to think about the long-term consequences.  Even the driver, though I feel a stab of guilt as I'm fairly sure his blindness will prove to be permanent.  That does solve one problem, though.  I can hear people talking outside the truck, but in his fumbling the driver has half-closed the door and for the moment I can't see anyone else, or vice versa.  I pull the backpack back over my shoulder and shift back to my mousy-self, then run to the crack in the door, dropping down to the bumper and then the street.

I scramble underneath the truck and pause for a moment to see if anyone is taking notice of me, and only then become aware of the larger scene.  White, like in the truck, but spread outward in a cone from the edges of where the door had been open, as if it had been a kind of radiation.  The sidewalk, windows, a tree, a car, multiple pedestrians, some shouting, some crying fearfully, all groping about.  Traffic signals.  More cars.  The wall of a building further down, across a street.

I can't take it, I spin around and run in the opposite direction as fast as my paws will take me, but of course the burning in my chest and my jerking thoughts keep pace with me.

They're going to find me, they can't help but notice this, they're going to find me and kill me, I'm too dangerous.  I don't know what I'm doing.  I don't know what I am.  I should just let them take me, let them finish it, I don't want this...

My compass spins, and I keep running.