"Yes, I understand you are looking at it,” Emmaline responded as the taxi bumped through the darkened streets of Seattle. She tapped irritably on the glass in front of her, not for the first time, in her quest to get the driver to turn the horrid rap music of. Also not for the first time, he ignored her. Next bonus, she promised herself, she would buy a car of her own.
 
“I’m just saying that guardian spirits usually attach to special places, sacred in some way. Wal-Mart is pretty much the expression of soulless human misery.”
 
Nearly half an hour had passed since the head office had roused her from her bed. For a wonder she hadn’t been up late so it was only mildly annoying. She had pulled on her jogging attire and a light jacket against the cool spring air, grabbed her supplies, and hailed one of the few, surly, cabs to carry her to Morgan. She hadn’t even bothered to grab her gun.
 
Morgan’s reply was lost in a particularly loud blast of semi-obscene lyrics. Emmaline narrowed her eyes and focused, nesting parenthesis in her mind. With an audible pop, a component in the radio blew and the cacophony subsided to a gurgling static. The driver fiddled irritably with a now useless control. Ahead of them a light suddenly turned red. The driver stomped on the brake and the car skidded to a stop, slamming her against her prudently donned seat belt. Nothing for free.
 
“Look, I can probably contain it, at least for a while, but we need to know what it is doing there. They didn’t dig up some Druidic grove for garden supplies or something did they?”
 
Darkened Seattle loomed ominous in the streetlights. She should have felt the joy of of spring. Privately, she always hated the few weeks between the thaw of the snow and the first blooms of green. Tonight though, the green growths seemed more ominous than their skeletal, leafless, forbearers.
 
The cab pulled up in front of the Wal-Mart parking lot.
 
“You want me to take you up to the door missy?” the cab driver asked with oily politeness. He had his tip to consider now after all.
 
“No this is fine,” she responded curtly, shoving a generous amount of cash at him and hopping from the vehicle. Lights in the store flickered and died. Part of her wanted to wait here until Rob or Jacob arrived, but Morgan was in there, alone. She moved across the parking lot at a fast walk. Pulling her silver athame from her jacket pocket she held it, pointed down, against her pant leg. Better to be safe, etcetera. There was Morgan, her familiar aura marking her more clearly than her striking looks.
 
“What can I…” her question trailed off as she followed the other woman’s eyes.
 
“That…. Is not good.”