Arran must have asked Naomi five times if she was really okay with Cree monopolising their evening before finally agreeing to go through with it. When he said that he would do it Cree had hugged Naomi tightly in relief, Naomi hoped that she did not let on to how uncomfortable she was with the constricting embrace.

Cree darted back into the woods to collect her supplies and Arran and Naomi were left alone to make the trip back to the cottage. Arran was silent the whole way and Naomi found it hard to decipher exactly what was bothering him. Possibly it was the physical discomfort that looking into the future would bring.

In truth, Naomi wanted to see what would happen. It seemed that if she looked around hard enough there was always a reasonable explanation for most of the odder aspects of Arran's life but this was one part that was steeped in impossible seeming magic.

Back at the house Naomi sat at the small dining room watching Arran pace. She felt a twinge of guilt catch in her stomach; this had been her suggestion after all. But something told Naomi that if he had said no to Cree then he would be just as anxious knowing that she was worried. Better to get this all over with.

Arran's attention turned to the door before Naomi heard the knock that announced Cree's arrival. It was things like that that made Naomi long to be able to read Arran's mind, just once, to see what it was like to be in his head. Maybe he heard Cree's approach with his super sensitive ears, or maybe he felt her anxiety through telepathy.

Cree, now slightly more clothed, entered the holiday home carrying a plastic bag. Naomi secretly felt a little cheated, she was expecting a velvet draw-string purse or perhaps a cauldron.

The contents of the carrier bag were a lot more exciting. There was an intricate crystal tube that was tinged purple at the centre and faded to clear at the point of its many facets, a vial of water, a small plastic pot of dried plants and, most interestingly, a flame with no source of fuel, trapped inside a glass jar. The flame danced in its transparent prison as Cree set it on the table, undisturbed by the movement.

"What is all this?" she asked the still agitated Arran.

"Well that's essentially a bong, those are drugs, that's a tube of soon to be bong water and that's how you set it all going," he responded tersely.

Cree glared at him as she sat down on the bench opposite, confirming Naomi's suspicions that it was more complicated than that.

"This is a purple amethyst pipe," explained Cree, passing the heavy instrument to Naomi, "amethyst increases sobriety and logic so it enhances any spell drawn through it meant to provide clarity, like seeing the future. The ingredients are really carefully balanced and very secret, I can't tell you what they are because I don't even know. But that's why the water is so important; it's purified so there's no external influence on the mixture."

"And if you smoke it all you can see the future?" asked Naomi, glad to finally be getting some answers.

She turned the beautiful pipe over in her hands enjoying the feeling of the cold, shiny surface.

"Not exactly, if you smoke it and perform a ritual and stay in a fugue state for several days then it might help you think a problem through to its logical conclusion. If a very strong witch does all that then they might have a vision. But if our magic-hating friend over here smokes it, it'll probably trigger his innate precognisance."

"Innate Precognisance is going to be the name of the terrible band that I start at uni," said Arran, finally joining the two women at the table. "Ask me how I already know we're going to suck."

Naomi laid out her empty hand on the table toward Arran and he took it at once, bringing it to his lips to kiss. She was fairly certain that she knew what he was doing; rooting himself in the here and now with a physical sensation. Sometimes he would pinch himself or bite the inside of his cheek to do the same whenever his senses or telepathy got too much for him. She wondered if he even knew he was doing it now out of apprehension for the vision that he was about to induce. She squeezed his hand tighter to help.

"So what's with the flame?" Naomi asked, turning her attention back to the small, seemingly impossible flame.

"It's a pure fire. It's the same as the deionised water," responded Arran, massaging her fingers with his own. "Fire is very powerful, you can invoke things without even knowing it if you have something on your mind when you strike the match. Even the type of fuel that you use can charge a fire with magic, and that magic interferes with the spell we're trying to make. So a pure fire either happens without human intervention, like lightning, or is specifically lit by a witch under very specific circumstances."

Naomi nodded, even though little of this made sense to her. She felt very much like a child sat with two adults who knew far more than she did.

Arran took the pipe and very carefully unstoppered two sections inside of it, filling one with the mixture and one with the water. After replacing each part carefully he turned back to Cree to glare at her one last time Without breaking eye contact with her, he upended the jar containing the flame and ignited the end of the pipe before taking a long, careful drag and closing his eyes.

There was an awkward pause, Naomi wasn't sure what the protocol was for a spectator of someone trying to bring on a vision of the future. She tried to keep very still, just in case her movements distracted Arran.

It looked for all the world that Arran was actually taking hits off of bong designed for a specific type of instagram celebrity. The smell of the smoke was different though, like oregano and pine with an underlying scent of burning bark.

After many minutes of not a lot happening Arran began to look extremely uncomfortable, pushing the smoking apparatus away from him on the table and shaking his head as if trying to clear it. Naomi was trying to decide whether to ask if he was alright when he hit his forehead on the wood in front of him, abruptly passing out.

A quick glance at Cree told Naomi that she had nothing to worry about; the other woman looked completely unsurprised at Arran's sudden turn into unconsciousness. Naomi knew logically that a bump on the head would do nothing to hurt Arran but the impact had still shocked her and she retrieved a cushion from the small sofa to place under his head.

"Now what?" Naomi asked Cree as she sat back down.

Cree stretched her long arms out and cracked her back, her eyes fixed on the top of Arran's head.

"Now we wait," she responded, finally shifting her attention back to Naomi. "It could take a while. It's like I said, this spell is top secret. The powers that be would never let slip details like how long it takes each time so we're working on trial and error and rumours."

Naomi watched Cree swing her legs up onto the bench and stretch her back out again pushing her chest forward. The werewolf girl's idea of putting on more clothes still left little to Naomi's reluctant imagination. She was wearing high waisted, deep orange shorts that cut off at the very top of her slim but strong looking legs and a fuchsia, lace bralette that fit snugly around her small, well-shaped chest.

Even in her human form Cree managed to make Naomi feel as physically intimidated as the advancing wolf that she had seen earlier. Only in this instance the feeling that she wouldn't be able to run away from an attack was mixed in with the unpleasant realisation that if Naomi tried to wear that kind of top it would in no way provide adequate support.

"Do you want me to find some other clothes?" asked Cree, shaking Naomi from her thoughts.

"No. Shit, sorry," said Naomi, wondering if she had really been that obvious. "How did you-. Okay, I cannot believe this is a question I now have to ask people that I meet, but you're not telepathic, are you?"

"Not exactly. I can do very broad strokes with other wolves but I can't read human minds, don't worry," Cree responded with a bright laugh. "But I am good at reading people and I'm also pretty used to human reactions. If I'm making you uncomfortable-"

"No, it's fine. Really," interrupted Naomi. "You look great."

Cree smiled at Naomi. She really was gorgeous with her brilliant grin and sharp eyes gleaming against her smooth, dark skin. Naomi needed to jolt herself out of being jealous of her boyfriend's ex-girlfriend's looks and so set off in search of the rest of the bottle of wine that she and Arran had started earlier in the evening.

"Do you want a glass?" she called to Cree from the fridge.

"Don't waste it on me, it takes harder stuff than that to do anything for me."

Naomi nodded and instead pulled out the bottle of coca-cola and a half bottle of vodka that they had brought with them in case they felt like getting drunk. She set these down with a tumbler in front of Cree without a word, she didn't want to drink alone. 

"You superstar," said Cree, filling the glass with vodka and taking a large drink. "I'm really sorry about interrupting, by the way. I know Arran was meant to be introducing you to the greater paranormal world. I promise I wouldn't have butted in unless it was important."

"It's fine, we still have time."

Besides, the original point of the trip had been to allow Naomi to learn everything that she needed to know in order to make an informed decision about whether she could stay with him. She already knew that there was no way she would leave him.

"Well anything if there's anything that I can answer for you, let me know," Cree offered, taking another sip of pure vodka. "I can guarantee you that I know more about most things than Arran does."

Naomi considered this as she took a drink from her own glass. She had been worried that Arran's view of the supernatural, especially the witches, was one-sided. Plus Cree was basically a world leader, she was likely to be much more diplomatic. Even if she swung too far in the other direction Naomi would be better placed to draw her own conclusions.

As she thought it through she realised that she had been absently watching Cree drink, her eyes following the other girl's full lips around the glass. Very deliberately, Naomi found something else to focus on, not wanting to seem like she was avoiding looking at Cree. 

In the photos that Naomi had seen Cree had been pretty but she wasn't prepared for how stunning she was in real life. Her muscles were equal parts attractive and intimidating and Naomi's focus felt like it was being tugged back to study the way her limbs moved at all times. The last thing Naomi wanted was for Cree to pick up on how struck she was by her looks. It felt like admitting inferiority, somehow. 

In turn, she was irritated by her own reaction. Looks aren't everything. And it wasn't like she was overwhelmingly insecure; Arran had been a massive help in boosting her confidence. She shouldn't let herself be unnerved. There was no reason that Arran couldn't have female friends. Insanely pretty, terrifyingly strong, politically powerful and sexually experienced friends.

She needed the conversation to start up again. Staying in her own head was driving her nuts.

"I guess I don't understand why the witches would control things like this kind of spell," Naomi began, gesturing to Arran's unconscious body between them. "If all people can do, or access, magic then why would the rest of the world seclude them. And why would witches hide spells from even other witches, surely it's more beneficial to teach as many people as possible to find who has the right aptitudes for it?"

"It's the same reason anyone holds back any information: Money and power. Take a guess at how much just that flame cost me."

Naomi stiffened. She had no frame of reference for this kind of thing and on top of her usual desire to be right she did not want to show off her lack of knowledge to Cree. Instead, she shrugged and didn't respond.

"It cost £500 for one component of a one use spell," Cree supplied. "A component that only 200 witches in Europe know how to make. There are a lot of powerful witches that stand to make a lot of money when humans finally find out about all of us, it's a manufactured monopoly."

This wasn't the balanced answer that Naomi was looking for. Maybe Arran was right not to trust the witches. The thought of magic being withheld for personal profit really wasn't so hard to believe when Naomi came from a capitalist human society.

"Do you think that's likely to happen soon? Humans finding out?"

"It depends on your definition of soon. Lots of witches would have it happen tomorrow but obviously, it's a delicate matter. You wouldn't believe the reams of protocol that I've had to memorise in case of accidental global exposure. Not to mention debates every other week about putting the decision to purposefully reveal ourselves to a general vote."

"Ah yes, because putting incredibly delicate and life-changing matters to the uneducated popular vote always works great," said Naomi, who had heard similar calls for a referendum during her own exploration of supernatural social media.

The two women clinked glasses together over the toast of "fuck Brexit" and laughed. It felt good to be on more familiar ground. 

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Fuck Brexit indeed. I'm sorry for the unexpected hiatus, I was supe busy at work but I'm ahead again now and so normally schedule of Monday and Friday updates will resume <3