Ashley Price, On The Trail of a Sex-Bomber

Here's the problem with secrets: They're all...secretive and shit. By their very nature, they're vague and obtuse and fuzzy around the edges. Otherwise, they'd just be facts.

So it's hard to say which of the dozen things running through your brain is the secret Max was referring to. Is it the obvious one, namely, that you're a witch? Is it more foundational than that, with him finding out your current life was zapped into existence out of a splash of milk and a dream?

Or maybe it's something more specific, something smaller but no less likely to be thought of as a misdemeanor at best and a full on crime against the very nature of reality at worst. Like, say, turning a herd of goats into thinking people with opinions and free will and shit, or taking an Associate Dean from a rather well thought of community college and transforming her into a dick-slurping co-ed.

What he knows might not even be something you really think of as a secret! He might not even know anything!

Compounding the issue is the knowledge that whatever it might be Max knows, or thinks he knows, you've got at least one solution. A few drops of milk should be more than enough to keep your secrets, secret. You don't imagine that asshole would be quite as interested in sticking it to you once he's sprouted big fat cow-tits and a squishy, giggly pussy. He'd be way too focused on sticking it to himself to keep any misbegotten knowledge from dripping out of his little bimbo brain.

It's a satisfying thought, and it's good to know that if things truly go bug-fuck, you've always got that in your back pocket. But after The Mysterious Voice, you made a promise with Isabelle and Jenny not to just milk all of your problems away. They argued, and you agreed, that that was a dangerous path. And a fucking dark future.

You know that every time you bimboed someone out of your way, you'd always be able to give yourself a reason that feels good enough. And every time, that reason wouldn't need to be quite as good as the time before. The slippery slope argument is traditionally bullshit, but when you've got the ability to non-figuratively change the world around you, you've got to be willing to keep to a few boundaries. So, yes. You could do something about this. You could do something about this right now. But you're not going do...that, and so your secrets remain in a state of jeopardy.

In short, fuck secrets. Fuck them right in the ear.

This well-reasoned conclusion, rock-solid as it may be, is only going to make you feel better for like fifteen minutes. Then, it'll be back to obsessively retracing all of your steps for the last month in a frantic attempt to figure out when and if Max might have peeped on you doing something magical. So strike while the iron's hot, because you've got other problems to deal with first.

Luckily, the Bad Starbucks is as good a place as any for a bit of focused planning. It's centrally located, stuffed to the roof with caffeine, and due to a combination of your magical wards and its intrinsic shittiness, it's discreet. It's actually even more heavily shielded than any of your houses. There had been and remains a bit of concern about constantly living and sleeping under runes as strong as the ones you've woven over Bad Starbucks, so while your domiciles are safe as bank vaults, this place is fucking Fort Knox.

The only people coming here are you and your co-conspirators...well, and all the shitty musicians Sydney brings in to fuck. But even if one of them somehow managed to focus on anything beyond the gleeful top-heavy wet dream doing her best to take their dicks to paradise, the type of music Sydney is drawn to is not kind to the eardrums of those who play it. You're not worried.

Sidenote, that is definitely not how Max found out any of your secrets. Once he showed up at an open mic night you and Sydney were attending? It was the first and only time you ever saw Sydney frowning at someone playing the guitar. That shit ruled.

So you're perfectly content to let Sydney indulge a bit. Which is really convenient, because when you strolled in with the royal twins Isabelle and Jenny had already arrived and judging by both their expressions and the ecstatic groans coming from the back room, she's indulging right now. You shrug at the Donna and Rhys, the former curious and the latter a bit embarrassed, motioning for them to join the others as you go to scope things out.

You peek around the corner into the employee's area and sure enough, there's Sydney, skinny legs wrapped tightly around the back of a scruffy-looking boy as she urges him to plow her harder. Is that the guy from fucking Candledick? It's a bit hard to tell, seeing as he doesn't look half-asleep right now and does have his head buried between Sydney's oversized breasts. Well you don't have to guess, because there's someone slightly less busy you can ask. "Hey Riot. Is that the guy from fucking Candledick?"

"Um, yeah. I guess so." The normally sullen looking girl is a bit short of breath as she mumbles a response, heavily lidded eyes still locked on the scene of her busty co-worker humping away. Riot has managed to avoid any physical changes since coming into your orbit, still sporting the same buzzed head and black makeup that screams 'I kick people with heavy goddamn boots', but mentally? The constant fucking and freaky magic sex stuff going on at her place of work seem to have turned her into a bit of a voyeur.

Case in point: Here she is perched in a chair, intently fingering herself as she silently watches Sydney fuck. You're certain this is consensual on both ends, because when Sydney squeals out in orgasm she throws Riot a big ol' thumbs up and the broody girl marks a tally with the hand not currently stuffed into her pants. Collaboration, huh! Maybe the other franchises could benefit from this sort of team-building exercise.

There's a loud cough from back inside the seating area. Oh right. All of the peril and such. Blugh.

"So there's no lasting damage to any of the wards?"

You shake your head, Isabelle looking cautiously relieved as you expound. "The twins and I checked out all the attack sites between here and the park? The newer scorch marks still stink a bit with that chick's energy, but the older ones seem to have completely neutralized it by now. If she wants to break through, she'll need something a lot stronger."

Jenny leans in at that. "That's the whole damn worry, though. Didn't she mention a 'we'? Doesn't that mean there's more than one invisible sex terrorist running around out there?"

You'd considered this already. "Maybe? But actually think it's more likely that she has allies with other talents."

Isabelle tilts her head to one side. "Why do you say that?"

"Remember The Mysterious Voice? And how she tried to deal with us? I don't think a lot of covens last long with all their original members. Based on what we've seen, and also just human nature, I'd bet that one witch usually climbs over the bodies of the others."

Isabelle sighs. "So then it's the invisible sex terrorist and an unknown number of unknown allies with unknown powers. They could have already made their moves, and we wouldn't even know. Super."

"Right. So obviously we've got to stay vigilant, but beyond that we can't do much about them. It seems to me our only option is to focus on the threat we've already seen. Rhys?"

Rhys takes his cue and rips the paper he's been scribbling on off of his pad, laying it down on the table to reveal a surprisingly detailed map of the town proper. He indicates the 'X's marked in a somewhat wobbly spiral across the area. "These are the attack sites, and the order in which they were struck. Or at least, as best as Ash and I could figure. She's definitely moving in a line, so no teleporting around or anything like that. And it seems like the first and last attacks of any given day happen in roughly the same place. Here."

He taps his finger to a location in the middle of the spiral of sexplosions, prompting Jenny to pick the map up and frown. "Our school?"

You nod. "It makes a sort of sense. She was clearly able to evade being detected by my wards, so why not hole up directly under them? It's a real Purloined Letter style move."

Isabelle hums in agreement. "Plus if she wanted to keep an eye on all three of us, it's the easiest spot. So what do we do?"

"Simple. We find her hidey-hole. Even wild animals scratch out some sort of nest for themselves, and if you'd seen this girl you'd have agreed that she's basically a goddamn animal at this point. We find her cubby, and it'll either give us information on what she's up to or give us her, herself."

Jenny nods along with all of that, still scanning the map. "Rhys, you drew this? Like, by hand?"

The prince blinks. "Oh. Yes?"

"It's really good."

"Oh! Thanks?"

Donna elbows her brother in the ribs playfully. "Rhys, you have to work on your banter. You're a cool student now!"

Jenny raises her eyebrows at that. "A what now?"

You cough, trying to bring this all back onto the rails. "The twins can see through Galigula's glamour or whatever, so I used a bit of our influence to sneak them into the roster."

The Queen of the Elves throws her arm around the shoulder of her princely brother, both of them beam. "Yes~! You're looking at your two newest classmates, Madonna and Rhys Everyteen!"

Jenny gives you a flat look, and you raise your hands defensively. "I tried so hard to get them to pick another last name. I fuckin' swear it."

Isabelle, at least, seems to find the idea amusing. "So that's that, then? Is this meeting called to a close?"

Before you can respond, the boy from Candledick wanders out from the back room. He manages to offer you all a bleary-eyed nod of his head before rummaging around behind the counter and eventually coming up with a handful of coffee beans. He shoves them into his mouth and crunches them up, washing the whole thing down with a swig from the water faucet before turning to hurry back to where Sydney is urging him to come fuck her some more. Jenny leans in towards Rhys. "That's pretty much our version of a closing bell around here."

The prince manages a grin in addition to his more customary blush, and you have to smile, too. That was productive. Your problems still exist, sure, but you've got a plan in place to meet them head on.

Oh wait. Not all of your problems, though. There's still Max. Shit, has it already been fifteen minutes? Fuck secrets, man. Fuck them right in the ear.