“No pointy ears at Viking camp!” yelled curly-haired guy on the other side of the bonfire. “We’re seri.. seree… serious living hssshtiorians here. This isn’t some fucking Renaissance festival, and no one wants to see an invader cosplay!”

Cosplay. He thinks my ears are costume pieces. Thank the gods!

But how is he seeing through my glamours?

I blinked woozily at him, trying to will myself sober enough to deal with this. That had about the results you’d expect. Bottles clinked and rolled away when I tried to sit up straight.

Apparently sobriety’s not a willpower thing.

“Shut up, man, you’re stoned and hallucinating,” said a lean woman with streaks of silver in her hair. She took a deep breath and yelled towards the other fire. “Johann! Your stupid ‘second sight sauce’ has Charlie tripping and harassing a newbie. Whadda we give him?”

“Gods I miss Renfest and the world before,” sighed her girlfriend. “We’d be out just to drink, have threesomes, and only see fairies if the dope was good enough. No real weapons or any of this fighting for our lives nonsense. You guys are too young to remember.”

I think I’m probably safe, I thought, letting out my breath.

“I went to a Renaissance Festival!” Charlie said. “Late summer ‘24, in Shakopee, the fall before the world ended. I was eight and it was awesome. But now I’m an adult and preserving our history matters. I don wanna see elf ears like I’m at some fantasy larp!”

What’s the prejudice against live action role playing, anyway?

“Charlie, shut it, no one’s larping here,” Ragnar said, approaching the fire with the mead-maker close behind him. “Johann, what’d he drink?”

“Er… a braggot ale made with honey I’d soaked amanita and psilocybin mushrooms in, with a bit of wormwood for bitters.”

Muscles clenched in Ragnar’s jaw.

“That sounds like a mix of absinthe, shrooms, and Norse berserkr drink,” he said, biting the words out.

“Well, basically, yeah,” Johann admitted, scratching his head and wincing.

Ragnar stared at him. Crickets chirped. The firelight caught the twitch in his eyelid.

“You brought what to a war camp? One where we’re monster hunting?”

“It was just for Woo Crew! Charlie’s got some potential. It was supposed to, um, open his psychic abilities. We tried to scry for undead a couple hours ago.”

“It was?” asked the lean woman. “A couple bottles of it got passed around the fire. Kinda nasty, honestly, much too bitter. Bob over there was the only one who liked it.”

“Woo Crew needs to start being a lot more responsible about their use of herbs and stimulants. I agree our work requires magicians, but I want sober ones,” Ragnar ground out. “Did it work?”

“Um, Alise said she got the impression of getting flipped off by a very cranky old Scandinavian. Said he was pissed, not evil. Probably found a local immigrant farmer’s ghost?”

Shit, it did work, I thought. Wow. I wonder what a bottle of that might let me see?

Ragnar rubbed his eyes with both hands.

“So it was a dud and you loosed Charlie’s gatekeeping inner asshole. Get him to eat some bread and go to bed. This is on you.”

“Come on, man, time to hit the sack,” Johann said, shoulders drooping.

“The new girl needs to know the rules!” Charlie exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “I don’t care if she’s fresh meat and gorgeous, we’re about history here, not fantasy! This isn’t Lord of the Rings cosplay time!”

“Sit down, you’re drunk,” Ragnar said. “Who are you talking about anyway?”

“Her!” he yelled, pointing at me. I blinked at him.

Everyone around the campfire looked at me. One guy facepalmed.

“Charlie, man, you are wearing some serious beer goggles. Might be time to call it a night.”

Okay, I keep my illusion plain because Coral pulls in enough trouble for our whole crew, but that still smarts!

“This is the Middle AGES, not Middle Earth!” he continued

I really wanna smack this guy.

“Charlie, she’s in garb, not costume! Drop it!”

“I’m not Charlie, you’re wrecking my immersion! I am Charles de la Motte, she DOES have pointy ears on, and they’re wrecking my immersion too!”

“Dude, I’m not wearing fake ears,” I told him. “Leave me alone, jerk.”

The guy abruptly lurched forward and grabbed at my head. Drunken fingers grabbed the pointy tips of my real, illusion-hidden ears. Pain burst like lightning all the way down to my jaw. I lashed out, knuckles cracking against his chest. He folded like an empty pop can, landing hard on Bob.

“Ow! Fucking hell, that hurt!” I yelled through the sudden throbbing pain. The pointy end of my ears are made up of magic sensitive nerve bundles. They’re delicate.

“What the fuck?” Charlie wheezed. “That felt real!”

Ragnar was abruptly next to us, yanking Charlie away. 

“That’s assault, man! The kid’s a newbie – what the hell’s wrong with you? You’re cut off, now go to bed!”

“Whaz hap’ning?” Bob said blearily, waking up. 

“This bastard just tried pulling my ears off my head!” I cried, forgetting how drunk Bob had probably gotten, and the way my magic had bound together the people whose Changes I was shaping. Some of the pain and freakout I was feeling must have echoed through to him.

Odd light glittered deep in his eyes.

Oh fuck.

Bob lurched to his feet, suddenly seeming a lot bigger than he really was. A truck mechanic’s muscles tensed and rolled in his neck. A low growl built in the back of his throat as he glared at Charlie.

Shit shit shit shiiiiiit.

“Fuck! Bob’s berserking!” I yelled, panic flooding into my system. “Get out of here!”

Hello, sobriety! So I guess adrenaline does the trick.

Charlie took one glance and started scrambling away on his hands and knees.

Bob’s breathing dropped to a deep rhythmic huffing as he hyper-oxygenated. Heat billowed off him. His shoulders rolled and he started bouncing on the balls of his feet. His gaze fixed on Charlie with a deep-wood predator’s focus. Nothing human was running things behind his eyes.

“Bob!” I called, trying to get his attention. “Cool it! We’re all drunk, he’s an idiot, it was an accident. Calm down, everyone’s okay.”

Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s any “Bob” left in there to hear me.

“Bob berserks?” Ragnar asked very quietly. “For real?”

“Yeah, runs in his family,” I said, keeping my voice low, moving slow and smooth as I stood up. “It’s a problem when they drink too much. Took three ambulances to cover their last family reunion. Get shields.”

“How long do fits last?”

“Up to two hours,” I said, grabbing a four inch diameter log off the firewood pile. “Then he’ll pass out, forget everything, and sleep for half a day. We might need a shield wall to keep him away from the tents. I’ll pull him out to the field; close the wall behind me.”

“Be careful, kid.”

“I’m fast,” I whispered, half to myself. “Fast enough to keep him busy.”

Bob gave a final deep huff and lunged for Charlie.

I swung with every ounce of strength I possessed, braining him with the firewood. His skull was practically steel; I knew it’d get his attention without too much damage. Eyes with nothing human home turned to me.

For a second I froze, acutely aware of how scrawny I was compared to enraged Bob. Spittle foamed at the edge of his mouth. That red light in his eyes refocused, entirely on me now. I barely had time to think oh shiiiit and then my feet took off underneath me, and I was flat out sprinting before he’d even fully oriented to his new target.