Eleanor slowed and pulled over onto the side of the road, leaning forward to lean her forehead on the steering wheel. She smelled of gasoline, cordite and the sharp burnt spice scent of thaumaturgic overload. The suit she was wearing was stained and burned through in several places, though she had managed to snuff out the flames before it had burned her skin. The kept her head down for several minutes, running through a series of meditations to recenter herself. The phone began to play Hips Don’t Lie and she snatched it up.

“Well if it isn’t Atillia von Bismark,” Eleanor answered waspishly. Emmaline let out a sigh of relief that stole some of Eleanor’s pique.

“You're alive, thank the Dark Moon,” Emmaline breathed, “I heard the spring jangling.”

 

“It worked out, Mal blew up a gas station,” Eleanor replied.

“That doesn't sound like something you should put after ‘it worked out’ Eleanor,” Emmaline pointed out. 

 

“Are we disentangled yet?” Eleanor asked, pulling open Nacho on her phone. The mathematical construct looked to be wound down to something like a normal level.

“O.2 millisterns and dropping,” Emmaline confirmed. The app blinked a notification ‘EvM has ended the spell’ followed by the digits 22 minutes 5 seconds. There was a subtle relaxation in the fabric of reality as Eleanor’s luck returned to the hands of random chance.

 

“You need to get going,” Emmaline said at the exact moment Eleanor said “I need to get moving.” They shared a laugh which bled some of the tension away.

“Call me if you need me Liben,” Emmaline said and hung up the phone. Eleanor stared at the steering wheel for a few moments and then pulled off her torn and burned jacket, tossing it into the back.

 

“Hecate, call primrose,” Eleanor said as she pulled back onto the road and turned back towards the gas station. It was getting time to figure out exactly what in the nine hells was going on.