“Yes.” Pendleson relented. Harriet waited for what would undeniably happen next in the conversation. He shifted to his good leg and gave a big sigh, as Pendleson always did before the credo; “Willt is going to find you.”

He was completely predictable. From his fetish for gray and forest green plaid that adorned everything from his pea coats he always wore in the morning with matching wool-lined slippers to his fetish for scaring the crap out of everyone with every awful apocalyptic tragedy he could before the early morning weather; This was entirely Pendleson.

“Willt. Did you ever bother to look at his name?” Harriet laughed, “Its normal, you know. Completely normal except for the 't.' One letter and he goes from Will to...Emyr Willt.”

“Harriet, Emyr Willt is a villain. What have I told you about villains?” He growled.

“What have I told you about Emyr Willt?” She growled back.

“You know the story, Harriet. You know what he is.”

Harriet looked up slowly and laughed. “I don't care about that stupid Brim anymore!”

“You'll be the only one who doesn't. It can't kill you.”

“I don't care about the Brim.” She said again, without an inflection to her voice.

“If you stop caring you'll end up on his side.” Pendleson told her gravely. Harriet turned away and marched into the garden, down a thin gravel path that lead to a bench painted with dots like fireworks. She propped her feet on the head of a garden gnome playing the violin to an assembly of decorative squirrel sculptures; the squirrels all had the heads of famous movie stars, and the gnome's violin was made of layers of Syran-wrap.

“I can't believe you still have this ugly thing.” She said distantly, admiring the tacky garden statues.

“Miss Pickett likes her...art.” Pendleson sighed, coming up around Harriet to stand behind her. As she ignored his presence, a white dove flew from a tree and landed in the artificial pond; the water reflected fiery sun.

The Pendleson mansion had a beautiful garden, carefully maintained and embellished for nearly a century and a half. Miss Pickett had a special knack for it, creating both wilderness and organized gardens—there were even plants that couldn't grow in the North East coast like oranges, mangosteen, and deep red poppies. From behind the tall trees that flanked the gardens perimeter, it was hard to see the rolling hills behind it. Like a mountain range, the Pendleson mansion loomed over the garden as if it were their own private country.

But, while the garden looked beautiful to an outsider, being a Pendleson came with a price. None of them could easily leave the North East anymore, which is why the large garden was built so elegantly. It was really all they had.

“It's a war out there.” Pendleson muttered with a sniff in Harriet's direction. She sniffed back inappreciably.