Grammy Lo moaned, eyes lolling back. The air in front of the gargoyles wavered, a flicker of reality you could easily miss. With a nod Curr was off, zig-zagging low amongst the ornamental shrubbery. N-ka began a slower, slinking course to follow.

“Wish we could have gone in some way other than the damn front door,” I mused, “Such a messy way.”

Grammy Lo chuckled in her half trance, “We do not choose the way as much as the way chooses us.”

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Yes, as always.”

In flashes of arterial crimson the four guards at the door deflated into sacks of bones and meat, hopes and dreams too, I supposed. As the last guard fell, N-ka was at the entry panel, working her own kind of magic.

Head down, I trudged out, “Let’s hope we walk right into this one, eh, Grammy.”

“Pray more you walk out.”

The doors slid open with a reluctant, angry hiss. Apparently, the building didn’t like to yield.

“Oh,” I called back, trying to sound careless, “We’ll be running out if anything.”