The day sat oddly with John. On the one hand it was a bright and sunny day with just the right amount of clouds to blot out the harshest of rays, perfect for reaping the harvest. His garden, however modest, had bore a great deal of quality herbs, roots, and spices. With this bounty he would travel a ways south and mingle with the local coven, a real pleasant sort living somewhere in the middle of Idaho. As he bartered and traded his goods with the usual suspects, the elders and a young woman who just adored his ginger, the other hand began to rear it's head. It began as a tug at his chest, little more than a minor annoyance at best. However as the day road on the tug began to grow in power, slowly consuming his attention until John decided to check on an old friend.

Zee, an old timer like himself, is what some people call a prophet, an oracle, a vessel, or a hack. No matter what you believed Zee's predictions had a long track record of being correct and the air had just the right amount of nip to make John suspicious. And so, it was time for a little tradition. It took about half an hour but John had the little something that they needed for this, Bumbo. Rum, sugar, water, and a little nutmeg all coming together to make ambrosia, the drink of the gods. Well, that's what Zee would want you to think anyway. With the tribute in hand John and Zee drank the evening away, catching up with each other and talking about the "Good o'l Days" when they were genuine, boneified, grade-A ass kickers. After a deep fit of belly laughs John knew it was time to sour the mood. "Zee, I gotta ask ya to read me." His words instantly cooled the air and Zee just sighed, staying quiet for awhile before giving a sullen nod. In a matter of moments she brought out her deck of cards, an ancient set going back generations in Zee's family, the real deal. About a minute of shuffling the cards and the reading began. Three clean movements and his future was laid bare.

[i]"A reversed devil, The Tower, and Death."[/i] John stared for a moment before uttering, “Do it again.”

And so she did, again, and again, and again. Each time the same three cards, troubling to say the least. Eventually John raised his hand in a gesture to stop and the two sat in silence for awhile. "Thanks Zee, really. I'll....I'll talk to you later, this has been nice." The mute woman just nodded and gave a small smile, pouring themselves the final shots of the night before raising them high. To themselves, to the ones left behind, and to the days to come. Downing the sweet fire in a single gulp John left, driving home to collect himself.

As the truck came crunching up the driveway John had only figured one thing out, every one of those cards pointed to change. Ominous indeed. John walked into his house and sighed deeply, scanning the little house for anything that may be off. Instead his eyes just fell on Hellion, his familiar. The Great Dane was huge, her fur as black as pitch and in a pinch, could thrash a man to death and back. She could feel the unease in the air that John brought, a low whine emanating out of her throat. With a ruffle of her head John whispered, "I'll be all right girl, just got those old world jitters." Her huff showed her skepticism, she always was smart. A mirthless chuckle fell out of John as he gave Hellion a scratch behind the ear and made his way to the kitchen, digging through the fridge before finding the flask. With a swig John stood in the kitchen, thinking on the days happenings. That is, until Hellion began to growl. John could feel it too, that subtle ripple in reality that heralded a portal. Slowly he reached into his drawer and pulled out a pistol. Hellion, for her credit, did what she did best and began to shift. Eyes turned to burning coals, claws began to elongate and sharpen, and the smell of brimstone began to fill the air as her fur began to spark with flame for the first time in years. The two as ready as they can be, John and Hellion waited for whoever wanted to say hello.