Manhattan (New York City Hall), NY

  There is an order to things. Think about a baby for example. They learn to crawl, then to pull themselves up. They build stability by holding onto things, learning how to walk with assistance. One day, they learn to let go and voila, there’s a walking baby.

  Maybe a better example would be school. Pre-school, kindergarten, elementary, middle, then high school. Some people choose to go to college, some people don’t. Those continuing on to higher education means Masters, Doctorates and everything else in between. It’s not always a set route, but the general outline of the order is the same.

  We humans thrive on general order. Ninety-nine percent of the population –and I’m shooting in the dark here– follow the guides set by our parents, who follow the path that their parents set before them. Maybe the subject is different. One decided to be an artist, when their entire family is made of engineers. Another example could be someone who comes from a family of doctors, but ended up dropping out of high school. But the second case would most likely end up getting some talking to from the other family members. Become a pariah, even.

  There is an imaginary order constructed by society to do these kinds of things and boy, do we humans love it. It is predictable. There’s no surprises. It’s stable, and we get scared when things become uncertain.

  I watched the Table show up and common sense like that out the window. Not only was there no order to their entrance, every one of them had no order to their biological form in the first place.

  Assad was first. He wore a burgundy tux, but excepting that, threw away all semblance of resembling a human. His hind legs bent backwards in a distinct mammalian predatory manner, even through the suit. His large goat horns jutted out, absurdly large compared to his lean toadish-leopard face.

  Next was the Intellect Transit, but covered completely within her wings. I flinched out of reflex at her appearance, remembering the horror I felt when gazing inside the feathers. The avian beaks, pigeon eyes, and rat snouts that populated the entirety of her already alien face.

  The Wickerman came strolling out, the practitioner struggling to walk and leaning heavily on the smoldering staff. Unless I was mistaken, the burns had spread. I had to wonder how much of the practitioner was actually left in there, if there was enough in there to feel pain. Did the man live in perpetual agony? Just what did he want so bad that he became the Egregore’s host? Had it been worth it?

  My questions died as the last member walked in.

  She was completely normal.

  She was the type of person you could see anywhere. Maybe late-fifties or mid-sixties at most. She wore nothing more than a raggy dress that hid her hands and hung down to her ankles, kept in place by multiple sashes faded with age. She had long white hair –not the supernatural kind, from age– that hung down to the middle of her back. There were wrinkles on her face too.

  I saw the deer-masked group give a bow when she entered. So they were her posse. Check.

  The blonde woman from earlier gave a light cough and casually slammed a fist to her shield. It wasn’t particularly loud, but the noise somehow carried through the chamber, less sound and more vibration. Every face turned towards the front and all the stragglers who had not yet found a seat chose a spot near the walls like me.

  Assad began as soon as the silence reached its peak. “I have the pleasure of being the Chairperson today. Let’s get the formalities out of the way first. Assad is represented.”

  “Intellect Transit, represented.”

  “Wickerman.”

  The old woman was the last one. She didn’t answer for awhile, her eyes searching the crowd.

  Assad cleared his throat.

  “Hudson Witch,” the woman said.

  “Absentees are the Sewer Mistress, the Valstein family, the Ravok family, House Argus, the Medallion, and Seiryo Holdings,” Assad said.

  The kid in the front row spoke up, hands still in his pockets and shivering. “The Valsteins, the Ravoks, and House Argus have sent observers. The Sewer Mistress has declined the invitation, and the Medallion couldn’t be reached in time.”

  “Thank you, Gamma. Then we can begin the meeting,” Assad said. His voice wasn’t particularly powerful, but it was smooth and there was a certain fluidity about his words. “There are three topics on today’s agenda. The first is this.” He leaned forward on the table, turning to look at the Intellect Transit, “Today, the Intellect Transit sent out her messengers to put a pause on a bounty set forth by the Table at a previous meeting. A bounty of six hundred thousand dollars, or favor of equivalent value, on the head of one Jain Shin Hallow. Intellect Transit, is this true?”

  “False,” She said, her voice harmonizing within themselves. “My children warned the would be hunters that Jain Shin Hallow was under my protection until sunrise.”

  I blinked. I thought. Then I did some mental tracing back. Then I did some more of a thing called thinking.

  Shit. It made sense. I hadn’t been bothered by the bounty issue since meeting the Intellect Transit. She had offered protection until I got to her humble abode, then I left on her little quest. Not a single preternatural showed up to try and kill me–excepting the eldritch-possessed-daemon I willingly went to hunt. I had just taken it for granted without even thinking that something was off. But the answer was right here.

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  Assad continued the questioning. “You did this without checking with the Table, also true?”

  “True.”

  “Intellect Transit, are you admitting guilt of breaking one of the bylaws of the Table? That what has been decided by the Table cannot be changed unless the entire Table is present?”

  “I have not changed the decision, I have simply sent out my children to inform of a personal decision,” She countered. “A deal between myself and Jain Shin Hallow.”

  “Sophistry,” Assad said and grinned. “But all true. All those in favor of dismissing the notion?”

  “Abstain,” the Hudson Witch said.

  “Aye.” That had been the Wickerman.

  “I also vote yes,” Assad said. “Intellect Transit, the Table will no longer remember this event nor hold it against you in anyway.”

  The winged nightmare did not reply.

  “In the same purview, all in favor of rescinding the bounty on Jain Shin Hallow’s head?”

  All eyes were on me without actually being on me.

  The Hudson Witch rested her chin on her hand and started drumming the table. “Abstain.”

  “Aye,” Wickerman said.

  I had to wonder if that was Wickerman's role, to be a yes man to everything. Maybe he legitimately didn’t care for much outside of recruiting would-be arsonists and baby pyromaniacs.

  “Agreed,” the Intellect said.

  “My vote is yes,” Assad’s chest swelled. “Any objections?”

  He was speaking to the crowd.

  I tensed but no one raised their hand.

  “From henceforth, the bounty is no longer valid.”

  A murmur spread through the crowd, a visible sensation as people started whispering in each other’s ears and others leaned back to do the same with the preternaturals behind them. Yokocho turned around and gave me a fat wink. I noticed that no one had chosen to sit near the bakeneko. One of the children Fae, a boy with just holes for eyes, turned around in my direction and hissed, sliding his thumb over his neck at me.

  “That’s adorable,” I muttered.

  Wol nodded from his place near my feet. “That could have ended very badly, Practitioner.”

  “Yeah,” I said grimly.

  I could imagine it as clear as day. Me walking out of the council chambers with the bounty still hanging over my head. Creatures would start stalking me, just waiting until I got far enough from City Hall for the non-violence rule to become void. The Fae, some of the unrecognizable creatures, others that I didn’t even see in here. I wouldn’t even be able to outrun them, not in crutches.

  I shuddered.

  But I’d learned something through this. That despite her looks, Intellect Transit dealt in good faith. She had done what she could to ensure that I was not going to be killed while on her errand. Atleast, not due to circumstances outside of the request itself.

  I brought my free hand to the gravity knife in my pocket and squeezed. It hadn’t acted up. Not yet. Another thing to worry about in the back of my mind, not knowing when this potential unknown was going to blow up in my face later when it would matter.

  Town Hall wasn’t over yet.

  Assad continued the meeting. “The second matter pertains to the fire this afternoon. Is everyone aware of which fire I’m talking about?”

  My stomach gurgled. “Oh shit.”

  There were some confused looks but mostly the crowd seemed to just know. Did news really travel that fast in this community?

  “For the unenlightened, there was a fire at a local public high school today,” Assad said, pretending to study his claws without actually looking at them. His eyes were on me, and as he said his next piece, roamed over to the group of practitioners. “I hold three individuals responsible. Jain Shin Hallow, Mina Baek, Victor Valentine. Please, introduce yourselves to the assembly.”

  The weight of attention from before was nothing compared to the one now. More than fifty sets of eyes rested on me, taking in the look and all of a sudden, I was very aware that I was on crutches in a room full of supernatural creatures that belonged in fairy tales. Fairy tales where they were usually the bad guys; where wolves pretended to be grandmothers to eat red-hooded children, and witches pretended to be grandmas with candies to lure pairs of siblings to her gingerbread house. The wolves watched me, then Mina, then at Victor all in sequence.

  Besides all those, a few eyes never strayed from me. Assad, the Intellect Transit, the Hudson Witch and some of the individuals aligned with the Table. They were watching my reaction, seeing if I’d try anything.

  Fuck. Things were coming together now, becoming a little bit clearer.

  “...Wol, I think we’re being set up.”

  “We’re already set up, Practitioner,” Wol said. He retreated back into my legs, staying between them. “What’s important is what we’re being set up for.”

  The answer was instinctive rather than logical. “They’re going to try to fuck with the trial.”

  When it was apparent that no one was making a move, Mina got up from her chair and took off her hood. “I’m Mina Baek, of the Baek Practitioners from South Korea,” She said, then grabbed the edge of Victor’s cloak and pulled him to his feet.

  “Victor Valentine,” he said after a pause. Victor was the least dressed up of the group. Beneath the formal looking robes, he wore nothing but a t-shirt and jeans. “Of the Valentine Practitioners, representing England.”

  Damn. Just me left.

  “Jain Shin Hallow,” I said. There was a small bit of wait to see if I would say anything else. I didn’t.

  “Ah, the newest member of our little community. Brings back memories,” Assad said. “In case you are unaware, Jain Shin Hallow, use of one’s practice to burn down a building full of school children is frowned upon. In fact, any use of one’s practice that could draw the attention and possible ire of mortals is greatly discouraged.”

  I blinked. “There was a reason,” I said. When no one responded, I added, "A really good reason."

  “Please be so kind as to explain to the assembly exactly what your reasons were for burning your own school to the ground?”