Two days after Duncan’s scenic route meeting with Agent Mackie, there was a knock on the door shortly after Duncan arrived home.

“Who could that be?” asked Sidney.  “Did Gwen say she’d come to visit?”

Duncan shrugged.  “She’s been kind of busy with Ettie the past while.”  As he walked to the door he blushed as he remembered some of the images Gwen had sent him showing some of the more fun things they’d changed each other into.  Getting them together hadn’t helped at all as far as Gwen’s tendency to tease.  He suspected Ettie was egging her on.

The door opened on Agent Mackie’s familiar visage.  “Oh!  Official business?” asked Duncan.

Mackie shook Duncan’s proffered hand.  “Yes.  Some good news, some... well, I’m not so sure.”

Dunan showed him inside, and closed the door.  “Now we can talk freely.  What’s the good news?”

Mackie handed over a slip of paper with some large numbers on it.  “This is your gold account.  Taxes are already withheld on it, you’ll get the associated paperwork in the mail in time for next year’s taxes.”

Duncan grinned and tucked the slip into his shirt pocket. “This’ll make Sidney happy.  Can I link it to my main account?”

“Already set up.  The instructions are all there, you should be able to transfer money to your operating account whenever you want.”

“Thoughtful.  What’s the other news?”

“You know how you’ve offered to let the rest of CSIS know about magic?  They’ve suddenly decided to go ahead with the plan.  This Saturday, there’s a big seminar session on emerging threats and we’ll have agents from all over the west attending.  If you start the early session, you’ll still be able to use magic, right?”

Duncan looked away for a moment to consult his inner calendar.  “Yeah, the Moon will set around half-past ten that morning.  I’d have to look at a chart for Vancouver to give you the exact time.”

“That’s fine, we can look it up ourselves.  We’ll set you up as the first session, so you’ll have lots of empowered time.  Can you get there under your own power?”

Duncan tapped his breast pocket, making the paper within crinkle.  “I should be able to charter a flight over in plenty of time that morning.  Why the rush, though?”

Mackie shrugged.  “The government works at two speeds.  Maple syrup in January most of the time.  Then suddenly it’s all ‘get it done yesterday’.  Someone back East said jump, is my guess.”

“That would make sense, I talked to your top boss on the weekend.  Anything else I need to worry about?”

“Not that I’ve heard of.  Try to stay out of trouble.”  Mackie clapped Duncan on the shoulder and turned to go.

“Tell trouble to stay away from me, then.”

Mackie laughed.  “Good luck with that.”

After the agent had left, Sidney asked what it had all been about.  When Duncan showed her the slip, and then tested the instructions by transferring a year’s salary into their bank account, her eyes went very wide.  “We’re really rich?  What about taxes on all this, are they treating it as a lottery win?”

“No, it’s income.  But the taxes have been withheld for it already.  We have millions to spend as we see fit.  Buy what you like, but... try to keep it low-key, okay?”

“Can I give some to my mother?  She’s on a fixed income, and her condo needs more work...”

Duncan smiled and wrapped his wife in a hug.  “Of course that’d be the first thing you think of.  Yes, of course.  We should have done more for her earlier.  Let her know that money won’t be a problem from here on out.”

* * *

The balance of the week was quiet, other than Sidney’s squees of glee over her new phone and tablet.  Duncan even forgot about being human from time to time, just accepting his body for what it was.  One notable exception was the night he stepped on a toy in the dark, which made him fervently wish to have his crystal body back.  Fortunately, it was early enough that the Moon wasn’t up.  Fortunately from the point of view of keeping his promise anyway.  Duncan spent the next half hour grumbling about stupid fragile human bodies.

On Friday night, Gwen brought Ettie over for dinner, at Duncan’s invitation.  When they took their  coats off, matching rainbow-striped fur pelts were revealed.  Gwen claimed that hers were rainbow on red, while Ettie’s were rainbow on violet.  This confused Courtney as she tried to figure out what the difference was, making the adults chuckle.  Courtney was just self-aware enough to tell that the laughter was at her expense, and she pouted about it until Gwen crouched down and explained the joke to her.

Courtney was not mollified until Duncan promised to make her a rainbow fur coat “just like Auntie Gwen’s.”  That made her light up with a grin, and she ran off to start drawing her dream coat.

“So how does one earn Auntie status around here, anyway?” asked Ettie.

“By tricking Duncan into turning into a mannequin?” joked Gwen, earning her dark looks from Sidney and Duncan.  “Oh, he told you about that.”

Sidney continued to glower at Gwen while Duncan laughed.  “C’mon, sweetie.  I also told you she wasn’t in her right mind at the time.”

“Maybe not, but I can see how she’s looking at you now.  Ettie isn’t enough for you?” she asked hotly, turning on Gwen.

“Hey, I’ve reformed!” said Gwen, holding up her hands defensively.  “Mostly, anyway.  Donna’s still... well...  She’s my Goddess.”

“Your Goddess?” asked Sidney archly.

“Everyone at the Blue Vixen’s, too,” continued Gwen.  “Did you hear the hymn they sang for her?”

At Sidney’s look of confusion, Gwen and Ettie shared a glance then launched into the Blue Vixen version of House of the Rising Sun.  Duncan blushed and bowed his head while they sang, feeling the power that was expressed in their love and faith.  Everyone’s eyes went wide as that power created a faint nimbus around Duncan, a glowing feminine form that faded away as the song ended.

“What on earth was that?” asked Sidney.

Duncan shook his head.  “I don’t know.  It didn’t do that last time.”

“No, you went into full Goddess mode last time, and everyone in the room ended up glowing instead,” said Gwen.  “Is the Moon up?  I thought it rose later.”

“It doesn’t rise until almost two in the morning tomorrow.  But...”  Duncan bit his lower lip as he contemplated the problem before him.  “It feels like power that could be used.”  He held out his hand, and a tiny glimmering star formed there, then flickered out.

“Holy...” Gwen breathed.

“Exactly.”  Duncan closed his hand tight.  “I’ll keep it close.  Thank you for the gift.”

Gwen hugged Duncan tight.  “You’re welcome.”  Sidney rolled her eyes.

Ettie leaned in toward Sidney and said, “You know she’s not trying to take Duncan from you.”

Sidney sighed.  “I know.  Different sort of jealousy.”

“Oh?  How so?” asked Ettie, as Gwen tugged Duncan away from the discussion.

“It’s just...  All this stuff Donna can do.  It scares me, and makes it hard to accept her.  Accept that she’s just as much a part of Duncan as Duncan is.”  In softer voice she admitted, “Maybe a bigger part.”

“That has to be terrifying.”

“Especially when she’s off saving the world.  I know how important it is, but...”

Ettie looked over at Gwen, her expression troubled.  “You go along too.”

Gwen nodded.  “Team effort.  I keep her safe when she gets distracted.  Which is often.”

“You do?” asked Sidney.  “How?”

Gwen launched into tales of times that the ghouls had tried to take control of Donna’s mind, and how she’d helped to shield and ground her.  The business with the illusory ghoul made Sidney giggle, until she heard how it had ended.

“Are they all like that?” asked Sidney.  “Relieved?”

“The ones that don’t fight like wildcats,” sighed Duncan.  “One fought against the shield so hard that it killed itself before I could do anything.  It’s like putting down rabid dogs.  Heart-wrenching, but...” he sighed again.  “Necessary.”

“They’re people, not animals,” protested Sidney.

“They were people,” corrected Gwen, emphasizing the past tense.  “The wild ones... not much was left.  Calling them animals is an insult to most animals.”

Sidney hugged her husband tight.  “How do you do it?”

“I do it because it has to be done.  And nobody else can.  That it hurts me to do it reminds me that I’m still human.  Sort of, anyway.”

“Human enough to eat dinner?” asked Sidney.

“One of the best things about being fully human for the week, as a matter of fact,” said Duncan with a grin.  “Food!”

Sidney had spent lavishly on the ingredients, since money was no longer any sort of constraint, and it showed.  Everyone ate eagerly, ending conversation until plates were clean.  Courtney had a smaller portion, and Victor’s was cut up extra small so he could try it too.

After dinner, the children were sent off to bed.  Courtney looked a little rebellious until Duncan promised to make her fur coat in the morning before he left.

That led into a discussion about the big presentation in the morning.  Gwen and Ettie had all kinds of suggestions for how to demonstrate the reality of magic to dozens of cynical CSIS agents.  Most were wildly impractical, silly, overly suggestive, or combinations of all three.

“No, I’m not going to turn them all into catgirls,” said Duncan.  “Or toasters, or dancing silks... though I do fancy the idea of turning a couple of overly silly dancers into some.”

Ettie and Gwen chirped, “Okay!” in unison, then broke down in giggles.

“We’ll save that idea for the next time you’re at the club,” added Ettie.

Sidney actually giggled.  “You... want him to do that to you?”

“Her.  And yes,” said Ettie without hesitation.  “It’s fun to be different things.”

“But you’d be so helpless as a wisp of silk,” protested Sidney.

Gwen and Ettie both grinned at that.  “That’s the idea,” said Gwen.  “Letting your body be controlled by the whims of another is fun.  A little scary, even if you trust them.  But the thrilling kind of scary.”

Sidney was staring at Gwen like her head had been replaced by some monstrous creature’s.  Gwen surreptitiously touched her head to make sure that wasn’t indeed the case.  “Why is this so terrifying to you?”

“Did you miss the story where Duncan ate me?” quavered Sidney.

“And yet, you’re still here,” said Ettie.  “Unharmed by the experience.  Not a fan of roller-coasters, then?  Scary movies?”

Sidney shook her head at both.  “I hate being scared.  I hate being scared both for and of my husband.  But what can I do?”

Ettie hugged her tight.  “Embrace it.  Ride the wave, don’t let it ride you.  You have an amazing kitchen, thanks to that husband of yours.  Are you going to renovate the rest of the house, too?”

Sidney looked over at Duncan longingly.  “I’d love to.  Someone complains that hardwood isn’t as nice as carpet on the feet on cold mornings.  But we could afford some really nice area rugs, now.”

Duncan chuckled.  “Or spin them out of your imagination.  There’s little point in spending money on something I can create directly, and make exactly the way you see it.”

“You can do that?” asked Sidney.  “Take the images from my head, instead of me having to painstakingly describe and correct and all that?”

“Yes, but...  Well, I’ve mostly used it to change people into the image they most desire.  So you might end up briefly becoming the carpet, if I slip.  I’d be sure to change you back immediately if I did.”  Duncan peered at Sidney curiously.  “What?  No protest?”

“I...  Wow.  Same thing with the furniture?  You turn me into it, then... what, copy me?”

“We could, yes.  Could even leave you as a comfy couch for a while, and cuddle up on you with the kids.”

To everyone’s amazement, Sidney’s eyes slitted half-closed, and she sighed happily.  “Sounds cozy.”

“Less scared of your husband now?” asked Ettie softly.

“Being furniture feels... safe,” said Sidney slowly, working it out for herself.  “A couch is more durable than a person.”

“What are some other nice, safe things to be?” asked Ettie, glancing over at Duncan to make sure he was paying attention.

Sidney mused on that for a bit.  “Sculpture, big metal ones.  I’d like more art around the house.  Appliances!  Would being a stove hurt?”

“Definitely not,” said Duncan.  “Stoves aren’t harmed by the heat they generate, right?”

“Right!” agreed Sidney brightly.  “I...  Oooh, just the thought of being so warm on a winter day is...”

“I’ll make the stove special, so you can come and go as you please.  Kind of like the waitresses at the Crimson Kitten.”

Sidney’s puzzled look at the reference led to yet another explanation.

“Wait... so you’re saying I could be a couch, or a stove, or... mm, maybe an extra-big hot water tank, whenever I want, just by putting on a headband?”

“Exactly,” agreed Duncan.  “Oh, and we should set up one of those waterfall shower things, too.  We’d need more power, though, unless I can convince you that I can make a perfect filtration system...”

“Mmmm.  Can I be the waterfall shower, too?”

“The solid part, or the waterfall itself?  I haven’t turned anyone into a liquid before.”

“You turned me into a smoke ring,” noted Gwen.  “That was fun.”

Duncan looked over at Gwen and Ettie.  “And from the looks you two are exchanging, one of you is going to try being a liquid...  No, you’ve already done it.”

“Guilty as charged,” giggled Gwen.  “I turned Ettie into a life-sized Lava lamp and myself into the contents.  Sooo nice.  Fell asleep like that, and we were ‘stuck’ that way all day.”

Ettie snuggled up against Gwen, their rainbow fur clashing.  “That was the best day yet.  Can we do it again?”

“Changes won’t last after tomorrow,” said Duncan, making Ettie pout.  “CSIS is cutting it fine with this meeting as it is.”

“Oh yeah!  The big dog and pony show.  Going to go with something spectacular?” asked Gwen.

“I figured I’ll wing it when I get there.  Maybe ask the audience for a few suggestions to make it clear I don’t have some kind of pre-built stunt.”

Gwen frowned at a thought.  “Are you going to stay human?  I don’t think you should.  First meetings with CSIS haven’t generally gone well.”

Duncan shook his head.  “I made a promise to Arwen that I would stay human as long as I could.  I’ll revert on Sunday anyway.”  He went to one knee in front of Gwen.  “My Priestess, If you think it is necessary, I will break it early.”

Gwen took Duncan’s hands in hers.  “As your Anchor, I release you from your vow.  Your safety is more important.”

Duncan stood up and into a hug.  Ettie and Sidney gathered around as well.  “Thank you.  I’ll keep most of my vow, even so.  I can simply add a crystal to make this body a remote, and keep myself safe.  I’ll still need to be in the same room to make the magic happen.  Maybe hiding among the crystals in the box?”

“Sounds good to me,” affirmed Gwen.  “Now let’s work on some design plans for your new living room!”

Duncan watched in amusement as Sidney dug out a pad of graph paper and they started sketching out alternatives for the room.  Before long, he’d let his mind slip into Donna mode, and was cheerfully adding her suggestions as well.

* * *

Duncan didn’t even try to hide his excitement at getting to ride the helijet to Vancouver.  He’d flown back and forth across the country in a variety of tiny jets of his own design, but this was still a new experience.  Not having to worry about navigation was a plus, letting him concentrate on sightseeing.

He was met at the Vancouver Harbour helipad by a familiar style of black SUV, though to his disappointment neither Mackie nor Armstrong were in it.  Still, it whisked him to the CSIS regional offices just in time for the seminar.

Duncan was given a pre-printed visitor pass, his box of crystals was professionally scanned by a mystified looking guard, then he was escorted further into the building.  His escort handed him off to another stern-looking agent at the door to a seminar room with three tiers of tables surrounding a presentation podium.  On the whiteboard behind the podium was the name of the seminar, “Emerging Threats - Argent Division”

Agent Mackie was speaking when Duncan entered, talking about Argent Division in the usual maddening circumlocutions required when talking about magic.  He waved Duncan over to the podium, and introduced him as a “civilian contractor” with expertise in Argent Division’s area of specialization.

Duncan set the box of crystals off to one side then approached the podium.  “Thanks Agent Mackie.  And thanks to CSIS for allowing me to present what I know about what is perhaps one of the oldest threats facing the nation.”

“Oldest threats?” asked a silver-haired agent to the right.  “How is it an emerging threat?”

“Because you have never heard of it.  Before I can explain it, I need to demonstrate something.  If you would attend to the spot in front of me...”

Duncan gestured to the open space between the podium and the first tier of tables.  A large plant-pot was standing there, where it hadn’t been a minute earlier.   A sturdy green shoot burst from the soil, and swiftly grew into a tree taller than Duncan.  Leaves sprouted, followed by fragrant blossoms.  Moments after that, thousands of cherries in every colour of the rainbow replaced the blossoms.

Once the growth had stopped, murmurs of amazement washed through the room.  The same silver-haired gentleman spoke up again.  “A clever trick, but what exactly is your point.”

“A cynic, I see.  Fair enough.  Name an object that could fit on the desk in front of you, something simple, but that I could not have obviously prepared beforehand.”

“A toy car, painted purple with three dark red racing stripes.”

Duncan nodded, and a simple car formed on the desk in front of the speaker.  “There.  Satisfied?  Does anyone else want to name an object?”

After creating a wooden pineapple, a bowling ball, and a small gold bar, Duncan asked once more.  “Does anyone here not believe that I can summon these objects out of thin air?”

Nobody protested, this time.

“Good.  What you have seen is not sleight of hand, or some kind of fantastically advanced manufacturing methods.  It is magic.  Magic is real, and has become more active in the world since roughly the middle of the 20th century.  However, it is reclusive, protected by a form of magical censorship.  Magic cannot be used in public view, but a private space like this is not restricted.  More notably, unless someone has seen magic in action, you will not be able to discuss it in their presence.  Agent Mackie, would you care to take over and explain the true role of the Argent Division?”

Mackie returned to the podium to explain that small groups of CSIS agents had managed to figure out that each other knew about magic, and formed Argent Division to figure out whatever they could on the subject.  He also explained that they had up until now lacked any way to controllably expose someone to magic, and thus had been unable to reliably recruit more members.

He then went on to outline the events of January 19th as they had been previously explained to the public, then again with the actual magical explanation – a fight between Duncan and a “ghoul”.  Agent Mackie followed up by pointing out that the prior pattern of the “ghoul” was replicated in dozens of cities across the country.

That led to interruptions and consternation.  When asked what Argent Division was doing about the threat, Mackie handed the podium back to Duncan.

“In most cases, the threat has been removed,” said Duncan clinically.  “The ghouls in the smaller cities had less access to death magic, and thus ended up going either feral or into hibernation.  While some reacted violently to lunar magic, most simply crumbled to ash, and expired.”

“Vancouver’s ghoul was a name you’re all familiar with.  The explosion in the director’s residence was not an attack, or a gas leak.  It was him, trying to take on too much lunar energy and self-immolating as a result.”

“Are all the remaining ghouls prominent citizens?” asked one of the other senior agents.  “We can’t support a program of assassination of Canadian citizens.”

“I don’t know,” said Duncan.  “The one in Ottawa was friendly enough, but had taken pains to stay out of the public eye.  They’ve been around for centuries, which gives them time to accumulate wealth and power.  The ones with passive access to sufficient death magic have not degraded much, from the two I’ve encountered.  They look like normal humans.  I honestly don’t know how much of a danger each represents.  Using accumulated wealth and power to influence politics is hardly illegal.  Using magic to back that power, especially death magic, is much more of a problem, and one that needs to be addressed.”

“Just how do you propose to do that?” asked another.

Duncan looked stern.  “By doing exactly the same thing I have been doing.  When I am at my strongest, confront them and if necessary, eliminate the threat.”

The silver-haired agent who had first spoken harrumphed.  “That is a rather draconian approach.  Can’t we all get along?”

“Given that most of the ghouls have tried to kill me or others when I encountered them, the answer appears to be no.  Not unless they’re willing to give up death magic for good.  You don’t understand how corrosive that is to their souls.”

“Souls?  Why should we worry about their souls?”

“Because souls exist.  I have observed them depart the body in those who have died.  I have saved lives by catching souls and restoring them to repaired bodies, multiple times.  And a ghoul who is too far gone no longer has a soul.”

The silver-haired agent didn’t look at all satisfied by that answer, but let others take the lead on questioning Duncan further.  There were a lot of questions, ranging from the limits and strengths of lunar magic, to the nature of souls and the history of ghouls.  Many questions were asked about Duncan’s previous encounters as well.

The issue of how other nations were handling ghouls was one that Duncan couldn’t answer, and he turned it back on them.  “I know the Americans have a huge problem in Detroit.  If you can use your contacts to get any more information about that, it could prove very helpful.  I’ve avoided Windsor to stay off the radar of whatever’s going on there, so I don’t have any first-hand experience.”

As the questioning had progressed, Duncan had noted that there seemed to be three major groups.  On the left half of the room were a number of familiar faces, including Armstrong and Mackie.  They mostly deferred to and conferred with a trio of senior agents.  On the other side there was a collection of smaller groups, each with a senior agent in charge.  The silver-haired agent and his four subordinates sat apart from these others, and maintained an air of either superiority or disinterest, Duncan wasn’t sure which.

As the Moon neared the horizon, Duncan tried to hide his agitation.  He’d hoped to leave before he became vulnerable, but it looked like the questions were going to continue for some time.

Finally, just after the Moon had set, the silver-haired agent called for some quiet.  “I think we’re done here.  I just have two more questions for our guest.  First, I understand you can tell the position of the moon.  According to my notes, it should have set by now.  Correct?”

Duncan sighed and nodded.  “It has.  If you were hoping for more demonstrations, I’m afraid the time for that has passed.”

“We have reports that you are currently spending time fully human.  Is this true?”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed.  “Sorry?”  He took a moment to scan the room, noting motion to his left where Armstrong was rising from his chair and stepping around the end of the table.

“It’s a simple question.  Are you human?”

Duncan took a deep breath, and sighed.  And lied.  “Yes.”

The silver-haired agent’s hand twitched, just as Armstrong shouted “BOMB!”

The warning came too late.  Buried inside the podium was a claymore mine, pointed directly at where Duncan was standing.  Its detonation shredded the podium and the lower half of Duncan’s body.

Donna shut off the link to her shattered body as fast as she could.  The pain, even in that instant, had been devastating, but she had no time to deal with it.  She was still aware of the room, able to see and hear.  She watched, powerless to help, as Armstrong dove to cover what was left of Duncan.  He came up in a crouch, gun drawn on the silver-haired agent.  His first two shots hit the traitor in the chest, but return fire from his assistants knocked Armstrong flat.

Four metal objects rolled into the room as the assistants dragged their superior toward a side door.  Two smoke grenades and two flash-bangs went off, causing more than enough chaos and confusion to cover their retreat.

Donna paid them no heed, her attention was entirely on Armstrong.  He’d been wearing a tactical vest under his jacket, so the shots to his chest had done little other than bruise him.  But one silver bullet had lodged in his shoulder, and another had hit him in the head.  It hadn’t fully penetrated his thick skull, but she could tell it had still done some serious damage, spalling fragments of bone into his brain.  There was an awful lot of blood, but most of it was Duncan’s.

Drawing on the reserve of power granted by Gwen and Ettie’s hymn, Donna whispered in Mackie’s ear.  “You have to get the bullets out.  I can heal him.”

Mackie was already at his partner’s limp body.  “I see them.  But how?  The Moon has set.”

“Trust me.  And hurry.  Don’t worry about how much damage you do getting them out.”

Mackie had a swiss army knife in his pocket, and used its blade to cut into Armstrong’s shoulder.  A bloody lump of silver came free.

“Good,” whispered Donna.  “The one in his head didn’t lodge, but it left two small fragments.  Can you see them?”

Mackie shook his head, worry creasing his face.  “If I dig too much, I’ll make it worse!”

Donna created glimmers of light next to each fragment.  “Here.”

The moment they were gone, Armstrong’s wounds closed.  “Thank you, Mackie.  He took those for me, and I could never have forgiven myself if I had not done all I could to help.”

“Will he be okay?” whispered Mackie as other agents started to approach now that the smoke was dissipating.

“Yes.  But he’ll need silver to be safe for the next two weeks.  I can finish the job then.  Take good care of him.”

Mackie nodded mutely.  Donna used the last of her power to flit away, reappearing at home.

Gwen was there, waiting with Sidney, and her eyes widened to see Donna’s crystalline form appear on the table.  “How’d it go?”

Donna sighed in a voice like grinding glass.  “Five for five.  A bomb, this time.  Blew Duncan to bits.”

“Are you okay?” asked Gwen worriedly.

“Physically?  I’m fine.  Mentally?  I am sick and tired of all this and want to go kill something.”

“You might get that chance,” said Gwen.  “The house is surrounded.”