"And this," Kirk says with gleaming eyes, "is the property I really wanted to show you!"

  Laurel appraises it, and makes an instant decision. "Too big," she states. It simply doesn't fit her vision.

  The real estate agent shakes his head with a clenched, bright white smile. "It's actually a steal. Same price as the smaller places in the area, but-"

  "No, Kirk, it's too big. I'm looking for something smaller." As much as she dislikes the process, Laurel refuses to compromise on her dream. She's been given a miracle, and to squander it with concessions is a bigger sin than any occult practices she's done.

  Kirk's nose twitches. "...the other property is more expensive, and half the size."

  "Perfect! Can I see that one next?"

  His smile is starting to crack. "I've shown you a half dozen places all across the city. At this point, I think you're just yanking my chain. Other place is fifty grand a year. Is that within your budget?"

  Laurel's brow scrunches inward. Well, it can't hurt to show him what she found in her main account. She opens her phone, types in a password, provides her thumbprint, and answers a security question. It's a little excessive, but the bank was insistent on protecting her 'fortune.' It's really not that much, at least, not to her.

  She flips her phone around, and Kirk squints to see her screen. He shuts his eyes and opens them again to make sure. "Well, you're definitely good for it, Miss Valley."

  "Just Laurel is fine."

  "Laurel, then. Let's go see it."

  Laurel eagerly gets the address from him, and follows behind the real estate agent in Willow's car. Hopefully this next place is a better match. If not, she has two more real estate companies to check with.

  Willow sighs, having been sent out to investigate dumb bullshit. Fair enough, it's been a few weeks since the last, but it's annoying that she's still being sent on field missions.

  At least it's nothing dangerous. Just checking on a report of some magician being a little too brazen about displays of magic. There aren't too many codified laws about the use of legal magic, but still, shooting off spells in public scares people.

  She knocks on the door to the guy's house, someone named Mortimer Drumlin. With a name like that, he was destined to become a magician...

  There's no reply to her knocking, as expected. She carefully scans the green-painted wood as she struggles to stay engaged, the banality of the task in a life-and-death war against her interest.

  A small design on the doorknob catches her eye, though, enough to focus her mind on the job. She'd assume it were some fancy logo, were it not for how inexplicably hungry the design feels. It depicts an emaciated wolf head snarling forward, scratched into the knob with a pocket knife or other tool. More ominously, all along the edges are alchemical symbols that meld into the outline of the wolf, giving it a bizarre, mosaic appearance at the fringes.

  Is it magic, or just using the symbols for artistic flair? She can't be sure either way, but if it is magic, it's definitely occult.

  One way to be sure. She pulls out her phone, and video calls Laurel.

  She picks up almost immediately, smiling into the camera. "Hey, Willow," she says, standing in an empty room. "What's up?"

  "Weird symbol. Kinda looks like a wolf?"

  "Show me?"

  Willow flips the camera around.

  "Is our connection stable? It's frozen on your beautiful face- oh, here it is. Lemme see..." Laurel's voice trails off, followed by a 'hrm'. "Only seen this kind of curse in one other place. Don't touch."

  That answers that, but it's unexpected. "Curse? Really?"

  "Yeah. Seriously, don't touch. I don't like the look of it."

  "What's it do?"

  "I have no idea... it's clearly a curse, but it's not a typical cursemark or ritual. I don't know. I can't see the logic here."

  "Got it. I'm gonna let HQ now. Thanks, Yanny."

  "I'm gonna lose my mind if you keep that up. Be safe, though, okay? I miss you."

  Willow hangs up. If this thing has a curse even Laurel can't understand... She slowly backs away from the door. This is beyond her pay grade, that's for damn sure.

  Laurel pockets hed phone, and looks back to Kirk with an eager smile. "Yeah... this place is perfect."

  "What were you talking about?"

  "Huh? Oh, right, I'm an occult consultant for Counter-Magic. Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

  Kirk shakily removes a cigarette from his coat, and starts chewing on it. "You know, you look a lot like this person in a docuseries I've been following with my wife..."

  "Yeah, that's me. Laurel Vale. Sorry for saying my name was Valley, I just... really want this to go right, you know? Please don't reject me. This place is genuinely perfect."

  "Ms. Vale, I-"

  "Laurel. Or just Vale, I guess."

  "Vale, aren't you, well, supposed to be in prison?"

  "I'm on parole. You can call Counter-Magic to confirm. I understand." Maybe Laurel should get business cards that explain the situation. Or perhaps a Counter-Magic hotline.

  "No, I believe you, Vale, it's just that this is a rental property. I'm a little worried about getting my deposit back, so to speak."

  "I could just buy the building. What's market?"

  He scrunches his mouth, clearly deciding between business and his LDS instincts. "Miss. It isn't for sale."

  "Fifty a year, right? So, what, two and a half million?"

  "That's what it's valued at, but again, it isn't for-"

  "Five million, lump sum?"

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  He claps his hands together, his salesman smile returning. "Well then, Miss Vale, we have some paperwork to do..."

  "I have no idea what it is, Garza, and neither does Laurel!" Willow shouts into the car's speaker, eyes only half-focused on the road.

  "You mean she's claiming she doesn't know so she doesn't get sent back to Magimax!" Garza's voice screams back, still loud despite Willow turning down the volume twice already.

  "No, I mean she genuinely doesn't know! Her parole situation specifically states that she can't be held liable for any future sharing of knowledge with Counter-Magic, our lawyer made sure of it!"

  "...shit. She actually doesn't know?"

  Willow seethes, but lowers her voice. "She said she saw something similar before, but didn't elaborate. I could try and press her a little about it."

  "Then do that!"

  The line goes dead, and Willow punches her steering wheel. She doesn't report to Garza anymore, but he's still her superior and the current occult specialist.

  Whatever. She pulls into the tiny parking lot alongside the address Laurel gave. It doesn't look like much on the outside, just an oddly small corner lot with a two-story building awkwardly squeezed into the space. She turns the loose-feeling doorknob and steps inside. She tries to push the door closed, but it doesn't quite shut all the way unless she puts a little weight into it... eerie.

  "Willow! Look at this place! Isn't it amazing?!" Laurel says, swinging her arms out wide at the empty space.

  Willow takes in the room. The walls are painted in a cozy light gray with a hint of teal, and a wooden floor that admittedly looks pretty well-maintained. Honestly, it's not even a fixer-upper, besides the door. "Beautiful. So, what's the lease? Thirty?"

  "Don't worry about it. I remembered my old bank details."

  "Oh?"

  "Yeah, so I just bought the place. The guy really didn't want to sell, though, so I just gave him five."

  "...five hundred thousand?" Willow asks. That seems low, but then again, maybe there's an issue with the building that lowered the value.

  "No, million. Admittedly, that was most of it, but-"

  "YOU HAD FIVE-" Willow takes a breath to collect herself. It's Laurel's money, not their money. Don't be an ass. "Sorry. I just... didn't know. How the hell did you make five million dollars?"

  "A lot of weird odd jobs. Like, there was this rich guy out in Kansas who really wanted to restore his old car, but the thing's engine was basically just scrap metal. Nothing a few spells couldn't put back together. I think I made a hundred grand from that. There are also a ton of those new age hippie types who think modern medicine is actually a scam, and they love the idea of using all natural healing from alchemy. I was able to sell some simple restorative ones to an online distributor pretty often. Stuff like that. Allegedly."

  Willow quietly hugs Laurel, mostly to avoid continuing the conversation topic. To her, five million dollars means never working again, and simply living modestly off of the interest. But apparently to Laurel, it means working more. Willow doesn't get it. Not even a little. But seeing the sparkle in Laurel's eyes as her dream slowly comes true, despite having accepted it may never come true? It's better than a lifetime without work.

  "So," Willow asks, as she breaks the hug. "What's the plan for the second floor?"

  "Storage? I dunno. I never really thought about having a second floor... For now, I'm excited to decorate this one!" She bounces on her feet, taking out a roll of painter's tape and marking the floor in a pattern known only to her.

  Willow slowly tromps up the staircase, hoping to find a folding chair or something else to sit on. It's a very different floor plan: this one is a hallway with branching rooms, as opposed to the retail floor, office, and back room of the first floor.

  She checks around the rooms, briefly sticking her head into each. Empty, empty, a little trash, an abandoned bed frame, a man covered in dirt curled up in the corner...

  Well, that's unexpected. "Uhh... excuse me?"

  He looks up at Willow from behind his knees, and grimaces. "Did this place get rented out?"

  "Sold, actually."

  "Okay, just give me a minute to pack up my shit, then I'll be going." He starts collecting a few things from around the room: a beat up smartphone, a charger, a few pairs of clothes.

  "Sure. Lemme just... go tell Laurel." Willow's mouth turns up in a poor approximation of a smile, and jogs down the stairs.

  She clears her throat, trying to think of the best way to phrase this without it spoiling her moment. "Hey, Laurel, there's a squatter up there."

  "A squatter," Laurel says, a little surprised but otherwise unbothered. "Did you want me to do something?"

  "No, he's leaving."

  "Why?"

  Willow's brow twitches slightly. "What do you mean, 'why'?"

  "Well, we're heading into winter soon, and I'm not using the space." Laurel shrugs. "Wait, are there a bunch of needles around up there?"

  "No, but-"

  "Then yeah. Give me a second." Laurel skips up to the second floor, looking around until she finds the guy. He's definitely been here for a while, judging by the mess. The guy himself isn't much cleaner. He's bundled in a pair of jackets tightly pulled over each other, with a dingy backpack he's trying to shove everything into. It doesn't smell bad up here, thankfully.

  The man looks up at Laurel, then back to his packing, putting his weight into compressing his clothes enough to zip the pack closed. "I'm almost out of here."

  "There's no rush. Hi, I'm Laurel."

  The man glances at her, then back to his stuff. "Okay."

  "You can stay here if you want, at least for a while. I don't have anything better to do with the second floor."

  He doesn't break his motion, finally managing to close the zipper. He swings it over his shoulder, and stands with an audible crack of his knees. "Uh-huh, sure."

  "I'm not gonna force you to stay, but I figure it's better than the cold. Stay warm, alright?"

  The corner of his mouth twitches as he regards her, but he stops as he gets closer. "...what did you say your name was?"

  "Laurel. Laurel Vale."

  "Vale... Where have I heard that name- Oh fuck!" He breaks into a full sprint, stumbling down the steps and dashing out of the building.

  Laurel purses her lips, and scans the area he was staying in. It's gonna need some cleaning, but it's not in terrible shape. She adds 'cleaning supplies' to her scattered shopping list, and smiles as she puts her phone away. Problem solved, though she hopes that man will be okay. Surely one of the dozen churches will take him in... right?

  "No, Willow. I don't want the cheaper ones."

  Willow sighs, pushing her palms into her eyes. The display cases look nearly identical, but one of them has slightly nicer corners. For twice the price. "Laurel, can you afford all this?"

  "I... Yeah, I can. Absolutely." Laurel nods to herself, though Willow can't tell for whose sake the action is for. A knock distracts her, and she grins. "Oh, the alchemy guy is here! I'm gonna go get that set up. You can handle the displays. Thank you!"

  Before Willow can object, Laurel is darting through the door, and soon directing a three-man team to carry torn and sagging cardboard boxes up the stairs.

  Sure, being uncompromising makes sense, but there's such a thing as too picky.

  What's worse is a gnawing anxiety that chews on Willow's brain. This shop was originally a way for Laurel to escape into her mind. Once it's actually here... is she going to be happy? What if it isn't what she wanted it to be?

  She runs her hand down her face. Don't catastrophize. Laurel is smiling, talking and laughing with the delivery people as she descends the stairs with them. She's clearly doing well, so no reason to get worked up. If only her anxieties were bound by logic.

  Laurel proudly opens the door for Shankar, smiling as she swings her arm out. It's literally perfect. Every display case, every detail, exactly how she imagined it. Without meaning to, she starts to tear up. She's already been here for hours, but still...

  More importantly, Laurel gives Shankar a massive packet. His shoulders sag as he thumbs through the dozens of pages, each one a specific item, a unique name, and a number she intends to produce.

  "Jesus," he says. "I didn't expect this much... half of these say you're not producing any."

  "Oh, I'm not. Those are just for approval if decide to stock them."

  "Mhmm... What the hell is a juggler's ball?"

  "Oh, that! I'm going to enchant a foam ball to fall slower. The exact process and materials are listed underneath." Laurel points out a list of items including chicken feathers, canvas, and a fleck from a meteorite.

  Shankar nods, looking it over a few times. "Okay... I'll check with my boss. See what he has to say. Hopefully he approves everything."

  "Let me know! I'm so excited. I'm so excited, I can't handle it. I need... I..."

  Laurel's eyes dart around, her whole body on fire. Everything, after so long, is going right. She centers herself, her face turning red.

  "I need to find Willow."

  Shankar looks at his papers, and shrugs. "I'll see you in a week, then."

  "Oh, hey, Laurel. How'd your meeting with- woah, hey now, take it easy..."

  Laurel hugs Willow tightly, as they stand in the nearly empty second floor room together. "Willow, I know you said you'd go into business with me. I... I'd really like that. For the long haul, okay?"

  Willow embraces her in return, gently rubbing her back. "Of course. I can't wait, even though I don't know anything about enchantment."

  With a smile, Laurel takes out her phone, and opens up a picture. "Our sign's getting delivered tomorrow."

  Willow looks closer at the glowing screen. There's a hanging wooden sign, painted that same dusky lavender as Laurel's room. There's white text written in a flowing script that reads: 'Through Valley and Vale'.

  "It's perfect."