The guard at the door of the city hall has a gun. Given that he’s standing there sopping wet with the gun exposed to the rain, I can’t help but wonder if he knows how to use it.

“Stop.”

I don’t think he could have possibly said it with less enthusiasm. But we follow the order regardless.

I half expect him to be more surprised by a couple of strangers showing up unannounced in the half-burned town, but his lack of surprise and care tell me that this is both a frequent occurrence and one that doesn’t tend to arouse much excitement.

Good.

He’s young, the guard is. Looks fresh out of high school. His hair sticks out from under the beanie he wears, and his rain jacket and jeans are soaked. A radio crackles on his vest and the guard pauses while he listens to it. He responds quietly, then gestures lazily at our feet with his rifle.

“The ghost can enter, but the dog needs to leave.”

I blink. “I’m sorry?”

“You. With the white hair. You can pass. The other dude’s a no.”

I share a look with the kid.

“Uh, thank you for the offer. But I think we’ll just be on our way.”

We turn to leave, but a bullet in the cement at my feet stops me cold. My ears ring and, for a moment, I’m certain I stop breathing.

The kid is already starting to get worked up. I can feel his energy spiking—the waves between us, which normally feel calm, are suddenly chaotic with fury and anxiety.

I grab his wrist and squeeze hard. Willing him to get ahold of himself.

“I’m fine,” I hiss under my breath. “Calm down. Before you make it worse.”

I can feel the edge leave his energy, but his tension is still high. As if barely contained.

“Sorry.” It’s the guard. “My bad.”

He could not sound less apologetic.

His radio crackles again. A question, though I can’t quite make it out.

“Yeah, no, that was on me… yeah… yeah… no, he didn’t do anything.” The guard’s eyes flick to the kid, as if sizing him up. There’s a predatory look there that wasn’t before.

I don’t like it.

“Kid.” He’s standing close enough to me now that his shoulder is brushing mine, so even over the rain I know he can hear my whisper. “This place is bad news. Keep your guard up and leave the talking to me.”

I can feel his hand flexing from where I’m still gripping his wrist in a death vice, his tendons pulling as he works his fingers.

“…Probably… yeah, alright. Will do.” The guard finishes his radio conversation, then gestures toward the door. “Mayor says you’re both welcome. Sorry for the mix-up. Thought you were someone else.”

His smile is more of a grimace as he holds the door for us. I return an equally disdainful smile as we enter.

The building is old and smells of wet wood. But as the heavy oak doors fall shut behind us, I’m suddenly relieved to no longer have to listen to the rain.

A woman waits for us just inside the door. Older, maybe late forties. Her blonde hair is shock white at her temples.

She smiles as we step into the foyer. It’s genuine. Warm. The kind that immediately puts you at ease.

I tense up.

“Please. Right this way.” Her voice is calm and even.

We follow her down the marbled hall and up the stairs to the second story. The lights are on in the building, which tells me they have some sort of emergency power system. The fact that they’re running full lights in the middle of the day, though, suggests they won’t for much longer.

The kid follows me close. Almost too close. I’ve released his wrist, but his hand still brushes mine as we walk, as if ready to pull me to his side at the slightest provocation.

Poor kid. That warning shot really set him on edge. I’ll have to find a way to console him later.

The Mayor is a tall man with broad shoulders and hair that has gone gray from natural causes. His smile is white and his cheeks are pink behind his handlebar mustache, giving him Santa Claus–in-summertime vibes without the full beard to accompany the look.

A quick glance around the room puts the number at thirteen in total. Though that drops back down to twelve once the blonde guide who led us upstairs retreats back down to her post in the foyer. Nine guides and three espers, counting the mayor himself.

With the system they have in place, it’s clear they get a lot of visitors. It’s too rehearsed, too practiced to suggest otherwise. But it’s also clear that none of those visitors are here.

The room appears lived in. They’ve pulled all manner of furniture into what was likely some sort of waiting area—turning the whole thing into a communal, open-space living area. The only ones who look distinctly out of place, besides myself and the kid, are the two espers who linger at the sides of the room. While they’re not holding rifles like the guard out front, they do have handguns strapped into holsters at their sides.

“Welcome!” The Mayor’s voice is loud and jovial. “I heard Eli gave you something of a scare out there. I do apologize for that. He’s still learning the ropes.”

I smile. It doesn’t reach my eyes. I’m fairly certain the kid doesn’t even bother trying, but I don’t look at him to check.

“Welcome to Feathersford. We’re glad to have you. Things are pretty chaotic out there with everything that’s going on. But we’re proud to be a beacon of safety for those seeking shelter in these trying times. My name is Elmer Fjord. But you can just call me Mayor.”

He reaches out a meaty hand and I gingerly accept the handshake. His grip is warm but also domineering.

Ah. So he’s that type.

The kid shakes his hand too, and I feel the briefest crackle of energy between them when their grips tighten.

“My name is Killian Harold, and this is my nephew, Rumplestiltskin,” I say, gesturing to the kid. “You can just call him Stiles, though. He doesn’t talk much. He’s rather simple in the head, you understand?” I give the mayor a knowing look.

It takes only a moment for the situation to dawn on him. “Oh! Oh, yes, I see. I completely understand.”

“We do so appreciate you taking us in, Mr. Mayor. It’s been mighty miserable roaming in this rain looking for civilized society. It was such a relief when we came upon your lovely little town.”

The mayor beams with pride. “Of course. You are both most welcome. We’ve heard such terrible things about the state of the world. Come. We’ll get you situated for the night, and tomorrow we can talk about your roles here. After all, everyone must contribute if we are to keep our society strong. Isn’t that right?” He raises a brow and leans forward, as if daring me to challenge him.

“That sounds quite lovely, Mr. Mayor.” I grin back at him. “I’ve never sat well with idle hands. I quite like the idea of working for our room and board.”

He straightens, his hands clapping together with pleasure. “Excellent, Mr. Harold! I do believe we’ll get on quite well. I’m so glad you’ve come to find us.” He pats me on the back hard enough that it leaves me breathless. And the grin he wears makes me queasy.