Verity Alice Price

They had left the main highway behind them easily an hour ago, and were now wending their way through dense forest, traveling along roads that could have used some serious repair, and maybe a few closures. The potholes were big enough to qualify as small ponds, at least when they were full of water, and this far into Michigan's Upper Peninsula, they were always filled with water. Michigan might not be on Portland's level when it came to being damp, but it was making a good effort, and Verity wasn't ready to count it out yet.

Liam was asleep in the passenger seat when they crossed the line into Buckley Township - they'd had a late night last night celebrating the new year and he'd taken the earlier shift driving while she'd napped. Verity pulled the SUV off to the side of the road and stared into the imposing tree line that surrounded them on what felt like all sides. The sky was a thin sliver of blue overhead, already trending toward sunset. Chicago and the Carmichael Hotel were eight hours of hard driving behind them. If they didn't want to spend the night in the SUV, she would need to push on, and soon.

She didn't move.

It was strange, being back in Buckley: it was like she was a compass, forever seeking magnetic north, and had just locked on to her target, no matter how much she wanted to go in a different direction. This was where her family's tenure in America had started. This was where, for better or for worse, the majority of their bodies were buried. Her grandparents had met here. Her great-grandparents had died here. It was impossible to understand the history of the Healy-Price family as it currently stood without also understanding Buckley - what had gone right there, what had gone wrong there, and what had gone unbearably weird there.

( Unbearably weird was part of the Price genetic makeup by now. )

[Adapted from "Swamp Bromeliad," by Seanan McGuire and preplayed (and coded, yay!) by the wonderful firstofitskind. NFI, NFB as per usual. Part 1]

They made it back to the hotel many hours and several bottles of champagne later, laughing as they tried to keep themselves from toppling over. Verity's knees gave out halfway up the stairs. Liam scooped her up, slung her over his shoulder, and carried her the rest of the way - and the giant horseman's glaive Al had given her as a wedding present and that she had carried all through the night. The best part? No one in Vegas had cared. Verity unlocked the door while dangling upside down and giggling incessantly. The mice cheered when they entered the room.

"HAIL! HAIL THE RETURN OF THE ARBOREAL PRIESTESS!"

"Shhh," Verity said. Her shushing was somewhat undermined by her giggles, and by the hiccups she was starting to develop. "Gotta be quiet, mice. No pets allowed."

"Verity is very, very drunk," said Liam proudly. "I am slightly less drunk." That he was drunk at all was pretty surprising, considering his usual reluctance. But it was the night before their wedding...

"Because you're bigger than me, you jerk," Verity said, doing her best to punch him in the knee. It would have been easier if his knees hadn't insisted on moving when she tried to hit them. It wasn't fair. She crossed her arms and sulked. "Stupid mass."

"I also drank more water," said Liam. He waved a hand at the mice. "Stay out here, you adorably vicious examples of the genus Rodentia. I am going to defile your priestess like...like..."

"The Normans defiled Lindesfarne?" Verity suggested.

"Yes," said Liam. "That." He raised his chin and carted Verity into the bedroom as half the mice cheered for the God of Distant Stars and the other half took up the cry, "HAIL TO THE DEFILING!" That was going to become a holiday and, dammit, Verity was too drunk to care. She barely remembered to shove the door shut at the last second. Barely. She might have been drunk, but there was no such thing as 'drunk enough to forget that the mice were watching. That was a level of inebriation that implied liver failure and death. ( Which might still be better than having sex while the mice were in the room. )

[Y'all know how this goes by now. Post I of II. NFI, NFB. Taken from "Waking Up in Vegas" by Seanan McGuire and preplayed with the glorious firstofitskind, who manages to patiently keep me on schedule with preplays!]

The hidebehind glamour that had once hidden the true contents of the converted warehouse that held the dragons' Nest was gone. They had been able to see the true structure of the building from the minute they walked through the front door. This had been more difficult than she expected it to be, since the dragons' overpriced bodega was also gone, and that was the only easy ground floor entrance to the slaughterhouse courtyard. Luckily, the three of them had been picking locks since before they could tie their shoes, but it would have been nice to have a little warning.

The power still worked - that made sense, since it wasn't like the dragons had ever been paying for it in the first place - and after flipping a few dozen switches, they were able to get a good idea of what they were dealing with: ( a huge, two-story building with a ground floor that consisted almost entirely of one enormous room. )

[Continuing on the adaptation of Midnight, Blue-Light Special by Seanan McGuire. Preplayed and coded with firstofitskind, who is the bestest. NFI, NFB.]