I made my cases painstakingly, with lengthy lists of pros and cons neatly tabulated in my journal in three columns, tallying their “good” actions, “bad” actions, and those of “indeterminate nature.” The latter was by far the longest column for them both.

One day I even persuaded myself to throw in the towel, give Rowena my spear, and join up with the sidhe-seers. There was not only safety in numbers; I could pass off the crushing responsibility of decision-making, and hand it over to the Grand Mistress. If the world subsequently went to hell in a handbasket, at least I was off the hook. That was the Mac I knew. I never wanted to be in charge. I wanted to be taken care of. How had I gotten myself stuck in this mess where I was supposed to take care of everyone else?

Fortunately by the time Rowena returned my call, I was even grumpier, she was her usual pissy self, we’d swiftly gotten into one of our standoffs, and I’d come to my senses, pretending I’d only called to make sure she’d gotten the Orb, since she hadn’t been there when I’d dropped it by. If you called expecting thanks, you’ll be getting none from me, she’d snapped and hung up, reminding me of all the many reasons I couldn’t stand her.

Each day, I made one more slash mark on my calendar, and October 31 marched closer.

I remembered past Halloweens, the friends, the parties, the fun, and wondered what it would bring this year.

Tricks? Or treats?

Oh, yeah, something had to give.

At noon on Wednesday, I was at a spa in St. Maarten, getting a massage—V’lane’s latest gift from whatever Human Dating Manual he was reading. Was it any wonder I was rapidly losing any sense of reality? Monsters and mayhem and massages, oh my.

When it was over, I dressed and was escorted to a private dining room in the hotel where V’lane met me on a terrace overlooking the ocean. He pulled back a chair and seated me before a table drenched with linen, fine crystal, and finer food. Mac 1.0 would have felt many things: flattered, flirtatious, in her element. I felt hungry. I picked up a knife, stabbed a strawberry, and ate it off the blade. I might have used my spear but, as usual, it vanished the moment he appeared. I felt more naked without it fully clothed than I did nude, and if given the choice, I would have walked through the resort bare as I’d been born, if it had meant keeping the spear.