“You’re hurt!” Dana cried.

“We’re alive,” Dee responded.

“Let’s get inside,” said Yvonne urgently.

Ignoring the stares of hotel staff and residents, the three hurried through the lobby and up to their room. Yvonne immediately ran a hot bath, while Dee ordered room service.

“What happened?” Dana demanded. “Tell me!”

She was the calmest of the three. Her aunts were moving around in fits and starts, taking off their clothes, donning bathrobes, checking their injuries. Both were badly cut and bruised. Their clothes were torn, spattered with blood and dirt. Some of their limbs looked twisted out of shape. There was a wild look in their eyes.

“We will,” Yvonne assured her. “After we treat the shock.”

“We’ve been here before,” Dee said shakily. “A little rumble at our favorite club when it got raided by nasties. We had to hold our own till Toronto’s finest arrived.”

“This is a lot worse, though,” Yvonne muttered. Her voice trembled as she stared at a deep gash on her leg. “I think I might need a doctor.”

“Me too,” Dee admitted.

They slumped together on the edge of the bed. The reality of the attack was only sinking in. They began to shiver violently. The dark thing had left its mark; for though they called on all the liveliness of their personalities to rally against it, they were defeated. It was too hard. Too horrible.

Dana clasped each of them by the hand.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said softly.

She gripped them firmly as she let the light flow. Like liquid gold, it seeped into their skin, slowly spreading like warmth throughout their bodies. As the light moved, it healed, not only the surface wounds but the ones deep inside; the nightmare of the evil they had faced.

When Dana let go, her aunts looked fully restored and refreshed, bursting with energy.

“Wow!” said Dee. “That was some rush!”

Yvonne had tears in her eyes. “Thanks, sweetie. It was lovely.”

“I was taught things about my power,” she said, a little shyly.

Before she could explain further, a knock on the door brought room service with the feast Dee had ordered. The three were more than ready to devour it. The tray was loaded with food: grilled cheese sandwiches, “western” omelets with fried peppers and ham, bacon-lettuce-and-tomato sandwiches, double-decker clubs, and a mountain of fries. There were also vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry milkshakes, and a pot of hot chocolate afloat with marshmallows.

They talked as they ate. Dana insisted on hearing their story first. She was dismayed at their descriptions of the Fair Folk.

“He’s a lush,” Dee concluded, “and she has codependency issues.”

“Documentary on alcoholism,” Yvonne explained to Dana.

“I know what I know,” Dee asserted.

“So they can’t help us,” Dana said, shaking her head.

This wasn’t good news. But worse was to come. The attack by Crowley. She could hardly bear to think of what might have been the outcome.

Her aunts shuddered as they recalled their ordeal.

“His tentacles were awful,” Yvonne said.

“What?” Dee exclaimed.

“I said tent-acles.”

“Oh.”

“He couldn’t find me,” Dana said, thinking about it. “I was beyond his reach with the Old Ones. That’s why he went after you two.”

Her voice rang with guilt.

“We signed on for the whole kit and caboodle,” Dee assured her.

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” Yvonne agreed.

“Not anymore,” Dana said. “It’s too dangerous. I shouldn’t have got you involved.”

“We’d take a hit for you any day,” Dee declared.

Her sister agreed. But it was the wrong thing to say. Dana’s features hardened, as did her resolve.

“I can’t let you. It’s wrong. Laurel told me about this already. Other people can’t get involved. If you don’t agree to stay out, I’ll use a spell on you and make you forget.”

Her aunts looked shocked.

“That would be a violation of our basic human rights,” Dee declared.

“And this has got nothing to do with humans!” Dana argued. “There are monsters, and you can’t fight them off. Please don’t make me use magic on you. I’d rather you agreed of your own free will.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to us,” Dee said with open admiration.

“She’s right, but,” Yvonne sighed, “we’d only get in her way. You know the plot. We’d be captured and held hostage, weakening her position et cetera et cetera.”

They looked so dejected, Dana almost relented.

“I guess you didn’t meet any heroes?” she asked, with a little grin.

“Oh but we did!” Dee cried.

She and Yvonne looked at each other, astonished.

“How could we have forgotten them?” Yvonne wondered. “Shock? Magic?”

They described their rescuers to Dana.

“Native guys, I think,” said Yvonne. “With knives.”

“Gorgeous guys,” Dee said, nodding. “I wonder what they were doing there.”

“The Old Ones must have sent them,” Dana said.

It was her turn to tell her story. Her aunts listened awestruck as she described the Sasquatch and wind-walking and dream-speaking across the Great Plains. The two were also amazed by the rescue of Laurel in the Brule; but as soon as Dana mentioned the woman in the field, they were on familiar ground.

“I’ll be damned,” said Dee. “You met Sharon Butala!”

“Who?”

“She’s a writer, well, a mystic really,” Yvonne explained. “She writes about the land. We’ve read her books. The best is The Perfection of the Morning.”

“Wild Stone Heart,” argued Dee.

“The whole quest is about books,” Dana said thought-fully. “Like Grandfather said. We’re all part of the Great Tale. And thanks to the Old Ones, the story is a bit clearer to me. I know where I’m going now.”

“Where?” asked Yvonne, then she added quickly, “not that we’ll follow.”

Her assurance was unnecessary. Dana’s answer was simple.

“Home.”