Cas wore the fresh robes of an acolyte, raided from a clothing chest that occupied a hidden corner of the priestess’s palanquin.

  The clothes were stiff cloth, weighing lightly on her shoulders as she stepped down the palanquin staircase.

  Under the auspices of her Aura-boost, Cas’s habit of memory was heightened, and she had been expecting a soft breeze to greet her on the outside – as was the habit of this region – but the air outside was as stolid and motionless as a cubicle’s.

  That was right; the demon had cast a bubble of silence before…

  Well, that was all in the past.

  Cas stepped down onto the dirt, waiting for Sara to join her.

  Sara had yet to appear. She was still inside, reacting with surprising clarity of mind as she arranged the mess inside.

  Cas expected that she would feel nervous standing outside by herself. Certainly her experience after the unit massacre had shown her the not to be the most composed under pressure, but her Aura-boost turned her emotions to iron, and she was feeling introspective about the whole issue. Back in the bloody atmosphere of the palanquin, with danger in the air, it had been easy to ignore the sudden strength of mind she expressed.

  Now that she was outside in the artificial tranquility of the silence spell, staring up at the noiseless sky which was just beginning to sport a few dim stars, Cas couldn't help finding her resilience strange.

  Maybe it was the aura boost, or the adrenaline crash that explained it, or maybe she was just acclimating to her new environment.

  Whatever the reason, Cas worked hard to keep away from thoughts of the Priestess… her throat popping in a burst of violence, or of the demon...

  The bubble of silence which covered the palanquin was completely invisible, but Cas could guess its extent by the acoustics inside, and by the subtle grains of pollen which dotted its surface.

  Only several pollen grains, though. There hadn’t been enough time for more to collect.

  It was amazing for her to realize that the combat had lasted less than a minute. She’d spent ten times as long in the time bubble, strategizing, asking desperate questions, psyching herself up. Sara and she had spent so much time running game plans that Cas almost felt prepared when the time came to actually fight. If only she’d gotten the same courtesy before being forced to order the demon’s-

  “Cas.”

  Sara lifted the veil covering the entrance way. Slipping through, she let the cloth drop before Cas could get a better look inside. “How are you feeling?”

  It was a simple question. Sara managed to ask it without pretension.

  Cas parroted with what was on her mind. “I feel… very responsible.”

  Sara didn’t say anything.

  Cas had expected her to. She’d expected a series of ‘It’s not your faults,’ or ‘don’t worry about it’s’, but Sara was more honest than that, it seemed. Cas almost wished she would lie.

  Sara was a master of changing topics, however, and she managed the effect without speaking a single word.

  Moving in front of Cas, she turned around, directing their mutual attention to the casket-still exterior of the Palanquin. Cas followed her gaze; she couldn’t help imagining the blood and horror that awaited any unlucky intruder into that space.

  Of course, there would be many unlucky people tonight, to tell by Sara’s expression.

  “I take it we’ll have to report this?” Cas asked miserably.

  Sara nodded. “Only to the higher ups, for now. I’ve just sent a message to the Lieutenant.”

  “What’s the word?”

  Sara squinted painfully as she tried to translate psychic images to words. “Well…. she’s saying a lot of things, but the pertinent orders are to bar the locals from the area until she sends an investigation over.”

  “Investigation?” Cas seemed offended.

  “Yes,” Sara sighed. “Even for regular soldiers, killing a priestess is a matter of investigation. And we – “ she pointed at their mutual ‘auxillary’ pins, “aren’t even regular.”

  “So we have to guard this place until they investigate. What then?”

  Sara shrugged, seeming tired for the first time, “Then, we have some explaining to do.”

  As it turned out, Sara was mistaken. They, in fact, had of explaining to do, but Sara managed easily by using her refined powers of speech.

  Cas managed even easier by using power of "letting Sara do the talking."

  For a talking Sara, expressing all her social charms, was quite a sight to see. Over the hours of interrogation and mutual scene scouring that followed, Sara cut through every suspicion and preempted every question so that, before the commander had even arrived, everyone seemed satisfied that they were in the right.

  It helped, of course, that they actually in the right, but that didn't need to be the case for her to get them off, as Sara attested to Cas in private.

  Afterwards, a generally dour mood spread through the army encampment, as the news hit of the Priestess's death.

  Cas struggled to imagine how much worse the refugee camp would be, given the circumstances.

  Thankfully, she never had to find out. The army left at the start of next morning, parting ways with the refugees.

  Cas stuck to herself the next few days. She was hardly in the mood to see happy faces, much less to face the general gloom the army displayed. It was all just so depressing, and Cas was depressed enough as it was.

  As it turned out, the root cause of the melancholy was the news of the Priestess's association with demons.

  This surprised Cas. After all, the army was hardly after the prince’s death. So, why the extreme reaction, now?

  Maybe two notable deaths, along with the unit massacre was just too much. The straw that broke the camel’s back was often the most insidious, after all. Or, perhaps it was the priestess’s position that inspired the dread. Cas overhead some of the regular soldiers gossiping. Something about the Church and demons was the topic of conversation, and the priestess’s… conversion – they used the polite term – had been deemed a terrible omen.

  Cas snorted plaintively at the analysis.

  Cas didn’t believe in omens, and she didn’t see what all the hubbub was about. The Priestess dying was sad, sure, but no sadder than the unit massacre, or the prince’s death. In her eyes, they were all human beings. So what if one of them wore fancy robes?

  Cas had never been all that religious, even as a child, and as an adult had gone full unbeliever. Maybe she just wasn’t equipped with the faculties necessary to understand the feelings of these people she found herself amongst?

  She remembered the village, and the miscalculations and terrible decisions which had let to ruin there. In hindsight, it was easy for her to understand that she hadn't fit in there, and she wondered if she would remain e a stranger here, too.

  Cas admired the night sky, wondering if there even a place for someone like her in this world, if she hadn’t been placed here by some cosmic mistake.

  She let her vision swim through the alien constellations. Her aura-boost had accelerated over the past few days, and an accelerated mind was fond of finding patterns, it turned out; and patterns were something the stars could provide in abundance. Lying on her back as she was, the night encapsulated her entire visual field. Wherever she looked, densely packed points of light greeted her, and a vista of images appeared, each more vivid than the last.

  It was especially pleasing to do this while waxing philosophical. Might as well have some nice scenery to go with her dark thoughts, which had only darkened recently.

  Cas remembered again, vividly, the death in the Palanquin. She forced herself to remember it, to watch every detail in her mind.

  She’d never been so near someone as they’d died, before. She wondered why she’d even gotten involved.

  So what if she was evil? she even evil? Maybe Cas had joined the wrong side. What even good?

  Cas asked this of herself, just as a pattern of stars took the shape of a winking cat.

  Suddenly, a bright face that hovered into view. "So, I hope you’re not busy, ya?”

  It was Anne, her dark hair fell down either side of her face in long tresses, brushing against Cas’s cheeks.

  Cas sat up through the black curtain of hair, looking back at the fellow auxiliary.

  Anne stood with that ever-winning smile of hers, bordered on either side by Reginald and Dacula. All of them looked at her with earnest and concerned faces.

  “Hey,” Cas said, wanting to be alone but not having the heart to turn them away. “Why are you here?”

  “Because we wanted to look after you, ya?” Anne said. She was a woman in her twenties, with round features that looked especially child-like it times like this.

  “Why?” Cas turned back around, resting an arm on her knee.

  “Because you’re our friend,” Anne answered simply.

  It was a simple statement, said with full confidence, and Cas was jealous when she heard Anne say such a thing.

  For it was exactly the sort of pure belief that Cas – mired with complicated thoughts and doubtful philosophies – had lost the ability to express. Heck, she’d been stunted in that capacity even on Earth (evolutionary psychology did a lot to destroy one’s belief in the power of love) and things had gotten only worse under the auspices of her aura boost.

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  It just didn’t seem fair.

  After all, Cas was right. knew that nothing mattered. knew that they were all basically just self interested creatures confusing themselves with instincts. knew that they were all just bags of meat that could be killed with a simple stab of the throat… gurgling blood as they collapsed....

  So why should she be jealous of someone like Anne, who was so ignorant of everything?

  Cas sighed darkly, turning a harsh look back onto the woman.

  “We’ve known each other for literally four days now, Anne. We’ve only spoken to each other what? Three times?”

  Anne scowled, puffing up in that self righteous manner one only ever did in the presence of close friends. “So?" she remarked with great emotion, her accent reasserting itself with full force. “So what?" she asked again, looking pointedly at Cas. "We survived Sable together. We worked hard together. We ate and shared stories together. I haven’t done even that with my brothers.”

  The woman stepped forward with an assertive composition, bending forward at the waist until their noses were barely grazing. “We are friends, Cas. It doesn’t matter if we never meet again, after this, you are welcome in my house. And I will break into yours if you don’t welcome me!”

  Anne then crossed her arms and sat down with a thump, brooking no argument.

  Cas didn’t know where it came from, but she suddenly laughed, enough that tears almost came to her eyes.

  Anne scowled again, heating up and nearly rising to a stand.

  “You know…” Anne leant forward with a dangerous look in her eye “another duty of a friend is to beat you senseless when you do insulting things.”

  Cas suddenly noticed just how well built the woman was, especially compared to her 16 year old self. But, for the life of her, she just couldn’t stifle her laughs completely enough.

  Thankfully Reginald, ever the peacemaker, took this moment to interject himself. “Give it a moment, Anne,” he placed a calming hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Cas is still young. I think we can allow her a bit of angst. Not to mention…” he railed off, hinting at some mutual knowledge of theirs.

  “I don’t care about the Karma,” Anne said. “Don’t you see that’s exactly what I’m saying? She doesn’t have to worry, and we’re still her friends regardless of what anyone else says!”

  Cas, choking on the last of her laughs, raised a hand to interrupt them. “I’m not laughing at you, Anne. I’m just laughing because I want to admit defeat. Hahaha!”

  Anne’s anger mellowed into confusion. “Admit defeat? We haven’t started fighting yet, ya?”

  “I think she means she’s acknowledging you as a friend,” Reginald translated politely.

  Cas nodded. “Yeah. I was just a bit dour, and I didn’t expect you’d beat my philosophy so easily.”

  “Ok?” Anne tilted her head quizzically, not getting it, but happy to have helped.

  “Anyway,” Cas said, regaining herself. “You said something about Karma, and people talking about me?”

  Immediately, everyone present looked away, guilty expressions abound.

  “Anne?” Cas pressed, knowing that calling someone specifically was a guarantee of cooperation. The by-stander effect, she thought it was called. Another evolutionary psych trick.

  “Well,” Anne drawled. “It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid. We just want to say we’re still with you, ya? Anyone who says you have bad Karma is talking nonsense. The priestess was obviously corrupt."

  Karma? Cas frowned.

  “What? Are people saying I have bad Karma because I killed the priestess?”

  “Yes, but she wasn’t a real priestess,” Anne hastened to add. “You’re not going to die.”

  “Die?” Cas stood up, looking around with a sudden panic. “People want to kill me because of her?”

  “What? No, no, no!” Anne consoled, pausing as if trying to translate some very difficult concepts from her native language. “I… hmm,” she wondered.

  Reginald once again stepped in. He took a seat between them, facing the common center as he leant back and started packing his pipe – a sign that he was making himself comfortable for a long conversation. “I believe what Anne is trying to say is: no. No one would try to kill you because of that demon worshipper. I doubt she’ll even be buried on church grounds, come time.”

  “Then what’s with all the death talk?” Cas said feeling calmed.

  “Because of the Karma!” Anne answered.

  “Karma?” Cas said.

  “You don’t know about Karma?” Dacula interjected, amazed.

  “I know about Karma,” Cas answered. “It’s when you do good things and good things happen to you.”

  “Yes!” Anne snapped her fingers. “And, when you do something bad, bad things happen to you," she completed.

  “Yes?” Cas said, curious where this was going.

  “Well, as you know,” Reginald said, “the consequences of your actions usually happen in the next life, but… for truly heinous acts, the consequences can be more immediate, and killing a holy being is one of the worst things you can do.”

  “But she wasn’t holy!” Anne spoke up hotly. “She was working with demons!”

  “And I agree,” Reginald replied. “I’m just explaining the situation to Cas in case she hears some of the more ignorant sort talking.”

  “What happens if you kill a holy person?” Cas said, withholding another bout of laughter at just how seriously they were all taking this.

  “Well,” Anne started, “people say… that you die in three days if you kill a person who’s truly holy,” placing particular emphasis on the word , looking over at Cas to make sure her feelings had been sufficiently spared. “You don’t have to worry about that, though.”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine,” Cas nodded with a cat’s smirk. It was heartwarming how much they cared, even if about something so particular.

  Remembering Sara’s reaction to her blasphemies against the Priestess, Cas elected not to argue with them on this front, instead shifting conversation to other pleasant topics, where she and her friends had a long night of pleasant jokes and catching up.

  Sara, on the other hand, she did not spare for an instant.

  “See… I told you the priestess was evil. I told you so. But did you listen to me? Noooo….”

  It seemed that an Aura-boost had the effect of amplifying your emotion, Cas noticed, taking three pages of mental notes on its effects even as she worked diligently to annoy Sara.

  There was a sixteen year old inside everyone, it seemed, especially Cas when turned 16. Well, 15 and a half, now, she corrected; she’d lost some mass in the fight.

  Sara sat atop her sleeping bag, a carrying chest resting on her crossed legs. Leaning forward, Sara looked into the mirrored lid, delicately wiping away her makeup with a damp cloth.

  “It’s a bit late to gloat, don’t you think?” Sara was unperturbed by the teasing. “I mean, the priestess was unmasked three days ago; the news has gone stale by now.”

  “I’ll have you know, I was too depressed to take advantage,” Cas neener neenered at the woman as she dabbed away her mascara.

  By now, Sara was almost wearing a plain face. An extremely beautiful one, which only further made Cas believe in an unjust universe.

  “Yes, I noticed you were acting a bit strange,” Sara said. Done with her night time preparations, she gently placed all the tools of her craft into their respective spaces. “I was planning to intervene if you didn’t get any better by tomorrow, but I'm glad to see you've cheered up. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

  “Just conversation with friends,” Cas admitted with a wistful smile.

  “Oh,” Sara replied coldly. “Those auxiliaries of yours? I forget their names.”

  “Yeah,” Cas nodded. “Anne, Reginald, and Dacula.”

  “Right,” Sara said, not feigning her interest well enough – which was her way of expressing disinterest. “What did you talk about?”

  “Oh, lots of stuff,” Cas sighed, not noticing the hint. “They said I don’t have to worry about dying from Karmic backlash, though, so that’s nice.”

  “Oh?” Sara said, no longer having to feign. “They said what, now?”

  Cas, still on her roll of smugitude, riposted instantly. “You haven't heard?" She tsked dissapointedly. "I think the unit Psychic is losing her touch. First the priestess, now this? It seems like you’re not keeping your finger on the pulse of information as well as you should be.”

  “My job is to track information," Sara replied, "not idle gossip between lower ranks." Despite this sentiment, she turned in place to give Cas her full attention. "Anyway, tell me about the gossip,” she fluttered her hand with a ‘go on’ motion.

  “Oh, just some silly stuff about Karma. Apparently I can’t get away from California insanity even in another universe.”

  Sara raised an eyebrow. “Karma isn’t silly,” the woman replied. “What could they possibly have said to give you that impression?”

  “It’s not what they said,” Cas admitted. “In fact, they actually said I going to die.”

  “Again,” Sara replied, “ would you be dying?”

  “Because I killed the priestess.”

  “But... you kill the priestess.”

  Cas shrugged. “I guess it makes for more interesting gossip if I did.”

  “Well,” Sara looked up thoughtfully, “I suppose I can see how it would work. The Karmic consequences of killing a holy person and all that. But I wouldn’t worry about that. Karma expresses itself in future lives, anyway.”

  “Come on, don’t tell me you believe in all that Karma stuff?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Sara replied. “Are you saying that you ”

  “I mean… just because the church says something doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  “Cas!” Sara said, warningly.

  “I mean look at the Priestess. Are you saying no one in a robe is capable of being wrong? Tell me this, have ever seen Karma in action?”

  “Of course,” Sara answered confidently. “When I was a child, for instance. My family's grounds keeper struck a horse with a rake, and the horse died. Two months later, that grounds keeper slipped down a hill and broke his leg. Coincidence? I think not.”

  “That’s obviously a coincidence!” Cas supplied, revolting from such complete disregard for basic reasoning.

  Surprised at that response, Sara searched for something else. “Well… what about the power of prayer?”

  “Is that power anything other than making you feel warm inside?”

  “... well, what about the tales of God? I mean-”

  “And, are these tales in the stories written by the church?”

  “No," Sara began triumphantly, "they’re written by God –” .

  “-- according to the Church,” Cas finished for her, victorious.

  Sara paused suddenly, as if reexamining her life with a calculating expression. “Maybe you’ll open your heart one day,” she said at last with a 'se la vie' posture. “Faith can difficult to comprehend for those who lack it.”

  Cas, feeling she’d offended the woman, softened her answer: “I dunno…” she said at last. “I guess I’ve just never for this religious stuff. I mean, God? Karma? Consequences in future lives? All that stuff is just a bit too speculative and ‘woo’ for my taste, is all.” Cas said, air quoting the 'woo'.

  “Really?” Sara said, looking chuffed.

  “Yes, really,” Cas said, frustrated and unwilling to hold back her feelings any longer.

  Sara only sent a hard, expressive look in her direction before pointing out: “Cas… you quite literally reincarnated into this world.”

  Cas blinked.

  “Oh…”

  “Feel like praying yet?” Sara joked. “I mean, you kill that priestess three days ago, now. Your time should be up soon. Midnight strikes in what? Half an hour?”

  “I didn’t kill the priestess."

  Cas's feeling wasn't in the denial, however. Her aura-boosted mind far more concerned with existential matters as it raced to reorganize her fundamental beliefs about the nature of reality.

  “Yes,” Sara admitted, "howeverrrr," stretching the syllable into a teasing note, “you have a hand in her death, and that’s certainly almost as bad.”

  “So did you!” Cas said. “So why are laughing, huh? You’d get it just as bad as me.”

  Cas grew heated as she realized that her entire life was a lie, and that evolutionary psychology was methodologically untestable.

  Sara, on the other hand, was floating on clouds. “Oh, I’m too pretty to die young,” she explained away.

  “I’m pretty sure you’ve got the saying backwards.”

  “Maybe,” Sara shrugged, slipping her legs into her sleeping bag. “I’m just saying… It has been three days. I’d be worried if I were you.”

  Cas wasn’t at all worried. Beyond the fact that Sara was obviously joking, recent experience of surviving without a head did a lot to take the fear of mortality out of her.

  Besides, this Karma stuff was obviously silly if the only evidence for it was a childhood story about a horse.

  What were ineffable Karmic consequences to an unbeliever, after all?

  “So.. what, then?” Cas said, finally. “Is it supposed to happen at midnight, or will it happen tomorrow, at the same time the priestess died?”

  Sara, by now curled up in her sleeping bag, had grown tired of the joke.

  “Honestly, I wouldn’t worry about it. The priestess was definitely evil.” She yawned. “Probably did some good Karma by helping her die. Not that it would matter considering you weren’t trying to kill her. Karma is intention, as they say. No... I wouldn’t be worried in the slightest…” she said, trailing off into a sleepy voice.

  Pausing, Sara reached over her head and rummaged through her satchel, pulling out an eye-mask which captured Cas's attention for the fact that the whole front of it was formed by a single, inch-thick plate of steel. The back of it was something like rabbit fur, however, and Sara certainly seemed to find it comfortable enough, to tell by her sigh as she slipped it on like a pair of goggles and encased it in her aura.

  “Besides,” Sara added after a moment, forcing the words out through a relaxing body. “That whole ‘die three days’ nonsense isn’t even dogma. Just…” another yawn, “local superstition by the lower classes. They have such earnest hearts...”

  The curse of an overactive mind was how many thoughts it could juggle.

  For while the vast majority of her aura-boosted thoughts wrestled with practical matters, there was still enough capacity left to worry about even superstitions.

  It was a terrible fact that Sara fell asleep just as the patrols rung the bell for the changing of the guard.

  They did that every hour, and a small part of Cas’s mind – amidst her chaotic thoughts – was able to recognize what that meant:

  It was midnight.

  And midnight was when it was supposed to happen, her death.

  It was a small worry, hardly even noticeable amidst all the other considerations running through Cas’s mind.

  In fact, Cas would have been embarrassed to notice it consciously, and she quickly ignored the superstitious nonsense.

  At least… she tried to ignore it, because no matter how hard she tried, a small part of her persisted in counting the seconds down to the full minute:

  60, 59, 58…

  After all... this was all complete nonsense, but it would become even more nonsensical if she survived the first minute of midnight, right?

  ...38, 37, 36...

  Cas wasn't nervous at all.

  ..21, 20, 19...

  Cas, looked at her status sheet, at the ever accurate clock, just to make sure she was counting the hours properly.

  And yes, there it was, midnight still, with a twelve seconds left until the next minute.

  It was with nine seconds left in her countdown, that Cas felt suddenly her heart spasming, and her vision going dark, and her nerves turning to acid, as her body collapsed and died.