By six thirty we’d finished dinner, Blaze had moved her car to my driveway next to my van, and I’d armored up. Matt and I helped her carry in his gear along with her food and clothes, finding space wherever we could.

  A big, half gallon, half-used jar of minced garlic now took up residence in my fridge. Matt set up the video gear in my living run. His laptop was on a tray table at the other end of the living room next to my moderate sized flat screen TV. A camera on a tripod inside a ring light sat next to it, connected to his computer and my Wi-Fi. He tested the feed to insure the Zoom connection.

  I had most of my gear on…minus sword, hat, and gloves. The gloves were tucked into my belt. The other things hung from the coat rack with two dark blue jackets.

  It didn’t take him long to set up. He wanted everything ready after we finished with the spawning. At exactly 6:31. Yes, I checked my watch, the doorbell rang. Once.

  Outside, the Flanagans stood together, the two boys geared up. I opened the door, giving them a half bow and a big smile. “Enter, please, and of your own free will.” I stepped back, letting them in.

  “Hanna, Matt, these are the Flanagans I mentioned over dinner.” I gestured to the boys. “The big one is Falstaff the Bold, Tank. The other, Yoshimori Takeda, samurai warrior. Also known as James and Jack Flanagan. Their parents, Mary and Patrick.”

  Turning toward the agents, I added, “This is Hanna Pozarkova, also known as Fire Mage Blaze, and Matt Bledsoe from the FBI.” I hesitated a second, casting a quick REVEAL STATS on Matt. “MBledsoe…he’s a Feral Druid. A kitty.”

  “A kitty?” Pat blinked, confused. James and Jack both cracked grins. They understood.

  “I can turn into a panther. It’s how I fight,” Matt said calmly. “Haven’t fought yet, but Will says I’ll get a chance tonight.”

  “He’s still Level 1 like the rest of you. Blaze and I will be sitting this one out to keep things fair.”

  I looked at their parents. “Are your sons helping tonight? They look ready.”

  “My wife and I spoke with Father Stoddard,” Pat said softly. “He told us it’s true. The Vatican hasn’t said anything official, but the bishop told him to ‘minister to our flock and do what Jesus would do.’”

  “What do you think he meant by that?”

  “Father Stoddard said that blessing your people yesterday felt like something working through him, and it wasn’t evil. He knows others can heal, but they can’t bless like he can.”

  Mrs. Flanagan added, “He told us our sons are becoming men. If they have power, they should help…and we should help them.”

  Pat’s jaw tightened, then relaxed. “We’d like your help. I don’t need to be told a sharp sword cuts better than a dull one. You seem to know what you’re doing. Please help us. I’m sorry about earlier.”

  “Thank you. I’ll help all I can. Megan promised cookies later.” I pulled open my doublet, showing my t-shirt: Darth Vader offering a jar of cookies to a mini-Darth Vader. “Welcome to the dark side,” I said, turning for the group to see.

  The boys and Matt all laughed. Blaze shook her head.

  Fastening my doublet, I led them into the garage.

  “Jack, I see you’ve got your kendo gear this time. Keep your regular shoes on. There’s broken glass over there.” I took a seat at my workbench, holding out my hand. Jack passed me his sword properly, using both hands on the scabbard despite juggling his kendo mask under one arm.

  Drawing it partway, I inspected the blade. Uniform edge, no forging patterns. Nothing to worry about etching with fingerprints like the high-carbon steel katana I’d handled once before…carefully, in white cotton gloves. “You’ve got a bit of an edge already. Did it drag when you pulled it out of the Goblin? Nice thrust, by the way.”

  “No, sir. At least I didn’t feel any,” Jack said.

  “I’ll touch it up with the grinder, but for a razor edge, use coarse and fine stones. When you can hold a sheet of paper up and slice it, you’re good. Check for nicks after fights or at least end of day.” Jack nodded, and so did his dad.

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  Goggles on, I made a couple of quick passes with the medium wheel, followed by a few swipes with my whetstone, finishing with an oiled rag. “Not the best, but it’ll do for tonight.” I handed it back.

  “I’m not the best at sharpening steel, but I’ve kept my blades sharp enough over the years. I had to do a lot more work than that on my rapier yesterday.”

  “James, your sword.” He passed it hilt-first, and I nodded. “Good form.”

  It was flatter than my rapier had been before I worked on it. “Viking style, sheet steel, not pattern-welded like the originals. Nice brass quillons and three-lobed pommel. If you upgrade, keep those.” I put on my work apron and goggles, then showered the bench in sparks. Grinding, oiling, wiping. Ten minutes later, it had an edge.

  Blaze went out and opened the front door to let the rest of the guild know what was happening.

  Handing James the sword, I glanced at my old heavy armor bag. “Hang on.” My chair would roll close enough to just reach it. Opening it, I dug out my old armored helm, checking the foam padding. It still had some give.

  “This is the helmet I learned to fight in, over thirty years ago. Rusty, heavy, one-inch visor slot…but it’ll protect your head better than your football helmet.”

  James tried it on. “It stinks. I can barely see. Heavy too.”

  “It’s a barrel helm, circa 1100s. Tilt your head down to look down. If you want it, it’s yours.” He nodded quickly. You can re-pad it later. Want it?

  “Yeah. I was scared of getting hit in the head.”

  “It’s enchanting time.” I cast +1 DEFENSE on the helm. “Now it’s enchanted.” After another enchantment, “Your sword as well. I added +1 DAMAGE. Now let’s get outside and kick some monster ass.”

  I was the last one out, stopping just outside my door, shaking my head. “Wha tha…”

  The local guild, Blaze, and Matt were there as expected. So was the reporter I’d chewed out earlier, his cameraman, and more reporters with phones or cameras out, filming us. At least they were on the sidewalk, not my yard.

  The sun hovered above the trees to the west. Its warm light catching pollen from the place three houses down toward Fox Avenue that drifted towards us like golden dust motes.

  Bhaarrt, Ingrid, and Shadow were by Bhaarrt’s red pickup in my driveway behind Blaze’s Prius. Bhaarrt leaned against the bed, arms crossed. Shadow pulled Jack aside, whispering quickly before slipping back. The lot across the street was still empty.

  [William of Brinsford:] [Falstaff the Bold] [Heads up, guild leader. Get this show on the road and organized. Less than ten minutes until the curtain rises and monsters make their entrance.]

  [Falstaff the Bold:] [William of Brinsford] [You’re the Warchief. I don’t know what to do.]

  [William of Brinsford:] [Falstaff the Bold] [Sure you do. Didn’t you plan groups before you came?]

  [Falstaff the Bold:] [William of Brinsford] [Uh, yeah. What about all the others?]

  [William of Brinsford:] [Falstaff the Bold] [Give me a sec. Got an idea. Get your guild together.]

  [Falstaff the Bold:] [William of Brinsford] [OK.]

  Falstaff shouted for the guild to rally to him.

  A fast REVEAL STATS on his parents showed Pat had chosen Metal Mage. Oriental elementalist. Uncommon choice, and Mary was a generic Healer. That tracked. My mind sidetracked wondering how many husband fighter and wife Healer combos there were.

  [William of Brinsford:] [Falstaff the Bold] [Here’s the plan. Have your parents join your guild. Your dad joins a party with Blaze, Matt, and Art R for healing. Your mom will get a crash course from Ingrid on healing while your dad learns casting from Blaze. You CHARGE the Goblin, they clean up the Kobolds, one party per monster. Get their OK.]

  [Falstaff the Bold:] [William of Brinsford] [Damn, that’s complicated. Asking them now.]

  [William of Brinsford:] [Blaze] [You willing to party with Matt, Pat Flanagan, and Art R?]

  [Blaze:] [William of Brinsford] [Huh! Thought I was sitting out?]

  [William of Brinsford:] [Blaze] [Too many people, everyone needs XP. You and Matt, Pat, and Art for heals. Take one Kobold after Falstaff knocks it down. Ingrid will train Mary to heal. Quick crash course. You teach Pat how to cast. We’re almost out of time.]

  [Falstaff the Bold:] [William of Brinsford] [They said they’ll try.]

  [William of Brinsford:] [Falstaff the Bold] [Good. Explain to the others. Get them ready.]

  Checking my watch as they were getting grouped up and talking, they had three minutes left. “Three minutes to showtime folks, get ready!” I bellowed.

  [Falstaff the Bold:] [William of Brinsford] [You expect me to do all that in 3 minutes?]

  [William of Brinsford:] [Falstaff the Bold] [No, you got 2. Tank it, guild leader.]

  Falstaff shouted, and people moved, surprising him with their quick response.

  They were mostly ready by the time my watch ticked down to one minute.

  “One minute left!” I shouted to them. The reporters were all focusing on the groups and the building.

  Shadow slipped back to Bhaarrt’s side. The ogre leaned on the truck like a giant farmhand, looking like he needed a straw hat and a blade of straw to chew on. Then Shadow VANISHed.

  “Thirty seconds! Pay heed to your Tanks!” I yelled, my old SCA marshal voice slipping out.

  It was a long thirty seconds. A few seconds after seven, a blue glow flickered inside the building, My DETECT MANA showed the Ley Lines and a half-oval of brighter blue where the gate formed. Ley Line light shimmering across the road like ghost fire. Not the solid line I’d seen before.

  “Everybody wait until they come out!” Falstaff shouted.

  That was when something dark blocked part of the glowing oval.

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