Exit to the Right ??

It hadn't been just the rumor that had driven Hel to Justin and Matis. Before she had gone there, she had spent some time in the headquarters of the Tortoises. Posing as assistant, she had several times found reason to slip into the common room, to where the Team Leader had retreated to. She had been following guest, had brought supplies and served on the men, all so that she could listen in to their conversations.

Nothing taken by itself had seemed amiss, just humans being humans. They hadn't even talked about an exit or a possible referendum. But the sum of unexpected details falling into place – the vote, the treason, Boris Maison turning up where he had sworn not to go – in connection with the rumor rang Hel's alarm bells. There was something like 'too perfect' or 'too convenient' that hardly ever happened on its own.

After she had left the camp, she didn't wait to hear what the two men might find out. She hurried, hoping that she could still catch a glimpse of Boris and Michael as they left the set of the Game. The two men and one woman talking the time away while waiting, suggested that Hell might be in luck. From her hiding place where she had reappeared in the human world, she

perked up her ears to catch what was being said.

"Where have you been? Have you completed the formula yet? Is the spell ripe, Professor?" Nigel asked the white-haired German, he hadn't yet fully figured out.

The once famous oncologist had been introduced to him and Diane by their principals. In the few conversations they had had since, it hadn't seemed like he was particular attached to the principals though. Nor did he seem particular comfortable with using magic or even just with talking about their power. What motives had stirred him to join their plot, the scientist didn't reveal.

Nigel didn't like not knowing. Nor did he like that a foreigner had been hired. But they were in need of his medical knowledge, while the Professor was in need of their magical support and their principals' influence. That had decided it.

"Don't you worry," the Professor gnarled. He held out three woolen bracelets to Nigel. "All that's left to do is to attach and activate them. I understand that is why we are here?" Nigel closed his fist around the bracelets. The Professor didn't let go immediately. His eyes pinned the other witch in place. "You do know that I could have done it alone, right?"

After a moment of tension, Nigel barked into a laugh and pulled the bracelets with a sharp tuck from the Professor's fist. "No." He shook his head still grinning. "Did you use the words we agreed on?"

"The words you chose," the Professor grunted and crossed his arms. His eyes roaming their surroundings, he all but said that he was done talking.

"And what about you?" Diane interfered. Nigel had a tendency to talk beyond what was good and to say exactly what he shouldn't – compared to social standards. He had none, nor had he morals. Paired with his conviction to be always right, it had brought him to the attention of their principals, and had made him perfect for this job. Diane's part had it become to smooth out any rough patches so that their group would work without frictional loss.

Nigel grinned. His eyes started to glow from wickedness. "Oh, I had fun. A bottle he swung, and asked for the way. Not ready to stay, for home he cried. He wasn't far or wide. Like a rat without tail I befuddled the mess behind his eyes' veil. I'll do, I'll do, I'll do."

"Let me give you a thought," Diane offered.

"All full of doubt?" asked Nigel, rubbing his hands, the bracelets rolling wildly between his palms.

Diane nodded. "Ay sure."

"I myself have all the other." Nigel swayed in the rhythm of their words like they were music and he was a dancer. Even his eyes were closed now. "In his very flesh I blow, till he thinks it's all to know in the whole wide world. I'll drain him dry as hay: sleep shall neither night nor day hang upon his penthouse lid: he shall live a man forbid. Weary, feary sev' nights nine times nine shall he dwindle, peak and pine, though his life cannot be lost, yet he shall be tempest-tossed so he stays away – and shows us the way to him."

"Brilliant, brilliant. Do, do, do," Diane encouraged him.

Nigel's eyes popped open. They shone feverishly. "Better even. It is done."

"Why do you encourage him?" The Professor grumbled at Diane. "He's no Shakespeare, as much as he wishes to be."

"You're no Sauerbruch and I make allowance for your antisocial genius act. Now everyone, concentrate. On your marks. There comes Boris Maison."

Nigel mumbled under his breath, "Wyrds, hand in hand, harbingers of the other land. Thus do go about,about, thrice to thine, and trice to mine, and trice again to make up nine. Here, the charms wound up." The Professor took a deep breath and rolled his eyes, but he stepped closer to Diane and his face broke into a smile.