"I hate everything," said Calponia, the words slurred by her bitten tongue. She hated to find herself face down again, while some big bad hovered over her to royally muck up her day. She hated feeling like a massive burden to Mack and the others, in constant Damsel in Distress mode. And most of all, she hated this bloody stupid curse. She was done, so done. This curse was going to be the death of her, probably quite soon. Except... there was a glimmer on Sanguinheim, where it seemed like she could use the damn bète noir to her advantage. If the curse went to such great lengths to sow misery, it stood to reason it wasn't too choosy with its targets. What was the saying? Misery loved company. If the curse was going to leak out of her at random, then it was time she learned to aim it.

Calponia was not a skilled fighter, but she was excellent at flailing. She threw herself sideways, flopping like a fish on land, and praying to any deity that might be listening that this worked. Her legs thrashed...

She could feel the bète noir lash out. Her foot caught the inquisitor in the back of the knee. He flew backward, ass over tea kettle, landing hard and awkward. The surrounding zealots jerked and tumbled into one another, disoriented by the fall of their puppet master. A stupid grin spread wide on Calponia's face as she tried to get to her feet, slipped on the wet cobblestones and drove her falling boot heels into the inquisitor's groin. He wheezed and curled on his side. The zealots collapsed, puppets with their strings cut. Hell hath no fury like a cursed klutz.

"What just happened?" Lady Agatha wondered out loud.

"Never mind that," said Mack. He appeared beside Calponia and scooped her off the ground, hustling back to the tavern with her in his arms. "That was brilliant."

Her dopey grin grew a little wider, so wide she had to stop her mustache from peeling off. Mack set her on her feet at the door, handing her off to Cesario who tugged and smoothed everything back into place as Lady Agatha sauntered up to them.

"Are you alright?" Cesario winced at the blood on her chin. "We'll get you cleaned up inside. Least it's keeping your beard in place."

"Bright side to everything," said Lady Agatha, looking somewhat disappointed her battle was cut short.

"Sword away, milady," said Mack, "We are trying to keep a low profile though I'm sure you'll get it plenty dirty before the day is out."

With a nod, Lady Agatha tucked her blade out of sight in her skirts once more, leaning against Cal's shoulder. "Thank goodness this brave gentleman saved my life," she said in a heightened sing song voice. Calponia wondered what the hell she was doing when she realized the tavern door was already open. She blinked, spying a room full of patrons through the crack in the door. None of them came to help, really?

Mack noticed her irate expression. "The Inquisitors aren't something they know how to deal with Cal," He winked, flicking a nonexistent piece of lint from her shoulder. "We can't all flail with such gusto."

"I do hope you'll tell me what that was about," Lady Agatha spoke in a quiet aside, barely moving her lips. She appeared the picture of feminine grace as she swooned, leaning on Calponia without putting actual weight on her. "Please, we seek sanctuary." She raised her voice to a shrill pitch that sent chairs scraping as several of the tavern patrons rushed the door. It was a challenge not to roll her eyes. The door cracked wider, filled with the wide frame and flushed face of a man in a stained bar apron. He eyed them warily, frowning at the trio of 'men' and Lady Agatha. Calponia clutched the coarse cloth of her pants, gritting her teeth under his scrutiny, praying her rebellious facial hair stayed on her face.

"What are you lot doing out on a night like this?" He spoke with a thick burr, an almost cockney accent, eyes widening with recognition. "Cesario? Sakes, lad, what are you doing escorting a lady in this pisser of a night. Get your arse in here."

"Didn't have a choice Gunny. Her carriage was sacked by these charlatans. She's lost everything," said Cesario, smoothly taking Lady Agatha's free arm and guiding her forward. The burly man moved aside, ushering them inside. The interior of the Land's End tavern was a dimly lit dingy space, overcrowded with ale stained tables and pipe smoke so thick it made Calponia's eyes water. She stuck close to the others, trying not to step on Cesario's heels in the tight space as the patrons freely gave up a table for the 'poor lady'. Accommodating as they were, Calponia caught the assessment in their sideways glances, studying Lady Agatha's body and face with an intensity that made her doubly glad for the fake mustache on her face. She wondered how they would have treated Lady Agatha if she weren't in the company of three 'men', providing her an adequate escort. Gunny, apparently the master of the establishment, hovered as they seated themselves at the table. The chair and table top were sticky with spilt drink but Calponia gratefully took a seat, feeling the aches of her fall setting in.

"A glass of your strongest spirits, please, Gunny, for the lady to calm her nerves," said Cesario, patting Lady Agatha's hand with a grave expression until the tavern master toddled off. She bent low over the table speaking to the three of them. "I'm going to report in and get a handle on the situation. Stay put and try not to draw attention to yourselves."

"I'll join you in a moment," said Mack, a move Calponia did not agree with but balked at arguing as he turned a cold stare on the surrounding bar patrons. Cesario merely nodded and shoved her way through the crowd. Mack's gaze only softened when he turned his attention to Calponia, removing a handkerchief from his coat pocket. He handed it to her with a closed expression on his face. "Clean yourself up best you can. That was some...impressive maneuvering."

Calponia took the cloth from him, gingerly patting her bloodied chin, trying to avoid her patchy beard. Lady Agatha leaned forward, taking the cloth from her as she performed the task with gentle fingers.

"That was a rather intriguing turn of events," the lady knight said, her fingers cool against Calponia's bruised skin. "What happened exactly?"

Calponia frowned, trying to find the right words to explain.

"Cal used his particular peculiarity against them," said Mack, careful with his speech with the tense crowd around them.

"I wasn't sure it would work," said Calponia, wincing as the cloth glided over her raw skin. Her eyes darted to the door. "They won't follow us in?"

Mack shook his head. "There are rule--"

Calponia frowned. "You mean the same damn rules that were supposed to keep them from, ya know, invading another realm?"

His expression turned wry. "If we are being technical, no, it's a courtesy and usually a non-issue. the bordering reality between worlds isn't supposed to be full of gaping holes for anyone to slip through at their leisure, but in this case I was referring to the rules of a different sort, " he said, jerking his chin to the entrance.

Calponia glanced sideways, noting the bundles of dried herbs framing the doorway. "What are those?"

"Yarrow, lad," said Gunny returning with a rough cut glass of smoky whiskey. "Hung a fresh bundle for a night like this one. Can I get you lads anything?"

"No thank you, sir," Mack answered for them, dismissing the man once more. He held up a hand at Calponia's expression. "Yarrow is a plant that symbolizes protection."

She snorted, feeling her mustache give a dangerous flutter. "You're telling me a plant is keeping those creepy freaks from storming in here?"

"Not quite," said Lady Agatha, eyeing her drink with disdainful speculation.

"Think of how you found the doorway to the Edgewise," said Mack, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it above the grumbles and clinks of the room. She heard him clearly enough for his words to evoke the memory, of her life falling to pieces, teetering on the edge of eviction, unable to hold down a job with her affliction, alone in the world with her parents untimely passing. Desperate enough to follow the bizarre directions in a tea soaked newspaper.

"I didn't think that would work either," Calponia breathed.

"Oh, a small part of you must have believed it would," said Lady Agatha, sipping her whiskey.

"Belief is powerful tool for the impossible," said Mack, tapping the table with an impatient finger. "Enough belief can change the fabric of reality."

"That's not how it works on my world," said Calponia. Mack turned his full attention to her.

"Are you sure of that? Belief can make fools into kings. Belief can drive men to acts of great kindness and cruelty. Belief can sway the destiny of a world, for good or ill. Are you so certain your world doesn't work that way?"

Calponia tried to process that, unable to shake the sense she hovered on the precipice of a much greater understanding. She shivered, pulling back. "So, because they believe the yarrow will protect them it does?"

"In a sense yes," said Mack. "The Inquisitors are creatures of faith and belief, therefore they can't ignore it."

"If my brain starts leaking out of my ears, I blame you," said Calponia, giving in to the urge to smooth her mustache.

"Have a drink, it helps," said Lady Agatha, pushing the whiskey into her hands.

"On that note, I need to see a man about a wind spirit and a Caliban," said Mack, rising to his feet.

A sense of dread clawed its way up from Calponia's chest, squatting in her throat. She was suddenly very aware of the many eyes watching them, a sensation of insectile legs skittering along her skin. She swallowed hard, reaching across the table to grab Mack's hand.

"Don't leave us here," she said. Her voice dried up to a soundless whisper as the sentences left her mouth.

Mack frowned at her. "What is it?"

She couldn't explain the feeling, or where it came from, only that she felt about as safe inside the Land's End as she did outside on the streets.

"I must say I agree with young Cal," said Lady Agatha, her fingers flitting along the hilt of her hidden blade. "Cesario may think this a safe haven but you can taste their fear, their hunger. There is anticipation in this room, Mack; I do not like it."

His eyes scanned the room, expression troubled. "You're right."

Cesario hustled down the stairs, shoving through the crowd with the same brusque manner. It wasn't until she stopped at their table Calponia could see the tightness around her eyes. "Mack, Cal, my lady, I would like to introduce you to my contact upstairs," said Cesario.

Calponia was all too eager to be out of her sticky seat, scrubbing her hands on her breeches as she followed Cesario's trail through the room. Her steps faltered halfway to the stairs, noticing the silence that descended on the room, a weighted silence.

Anticipation...

The hair on the back of her neck rose. The creak and whine of wood beneath their feet as they ascended the stairs practically echoed in that silence. Cesario herded them down a narrow hall, pausing outside a plain wooden door towards the closed end. A dead end. She hesitated outside, looking at them over her shoulder.

"Let's move this along," murmured Mack, "I'm eager to converse with your contact."

"About that," said Cesario, pushing on the handle. "That will be difficult."

The door swung open, revealing another man in similar ruff and garb to Cesario. He was actually quite handsome, or was when alive. His lean body was a twisted mess of ill portioned angles, limbs bent where they shouldn't be, while his head was neatly rotated one hundred and eighty degrees in the wrong direction. His blank eyes stared at them in frozen surprise.

Calponia chewed the inside of her cheek to keep from yelping, speaking through her teeth. "I am so sick of dead bodies."

Mack cocked his head. "Difficult, but I can work with it."