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"Wow. That's serious incompetence. I wonder if some people just can't? It would suck if I were someone who just couldn't," muses Bella.

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"I suspect the fault lies somewhere between mindset and methods, but I have not made a concerted study of the matter."

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"Mm. What are the unfriendly competent witches like?"

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"The example that stands out the most has switched bodies with her daughter, without the daughter's consent," he says mildly. "I would not go to her for occult instruction if I were you."

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"Ah. No, that doesn't sound like a good teacher. Why did she do that? Just to be younger?"

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"Her reasons are opaque to me; that is as good a theory as any."

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"I want to fix that but without knowing any magic I don't have the first idea what I'd do. Dammit."

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"I'll look into it," says Sherlock.

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"Thanks!"

She pulls over at the next neighborhood and begins laying her traps.
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Sherlock accompanies her with his customary unobtrusiveness.

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They are not attacked on this night either.

Nor, in fact, are they attacked on any of the remaining neighborhood-crossing nights.

When he arrives for his blood on the subsequent evening, Bella says: "I think practicing martial arts in the backyard would attract neighborly attention if we make a habit of it, and it'd disconcert Charlie. Have you got a better idea?"
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"Well, there's this charming crypt I've been staying in recently," he says. "It's quite comfortable if you don't mind the cobwebs."

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"I'll fetch a featherduster, shall I?" Bella says dryly.

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"If you must."

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She must, apparently. "Walking distance?" she asks when she's emerged with the implement tucked into her messenger bag with everything else she carries on nighttime excursions.

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"For me, certainly."

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"More or less than two miles?" Bella tries.

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"Oh, less."

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"All right then, lead the way. Slayer's First Crypt. Should be a pop-up book."

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Sherlock giggles.

Off they go!



The crypt proves to be a little less cobwebby than advertised, but not by much. It has a ground level with a prominent, currently empty stone coffin, and a below-ground level with a mattress, a blanket, a kettle, a box of tea, and a lot of empty space.
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"Why is a crypt wired for electricity?" Bella asks, eyeing the kettle and the lights while attacking the cobwebs surrounding the largest open space that will suit for combat practice.

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"I don't know, but I do know I am not its first ambulatory occupant," he says. "Perhaps the previous one could answer that question, if they are not a pile of dust by now."

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"Did you have to evict them or was it unoccupied when you found it?" Dust dust dust. Her duster is getting quite repulsive; she peels off a layer of spiderweb and chucks it into a corner where at least it will be out of the way and makes another pass.

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"The latter. A broom might have done you more good," he says.

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"Less pleasant to carry all this way," she says. "I think I've interrupted local vampire reproduction sufficiently that a broom's potential value as an impromptu stake is not a significant factor." She deems the second pass sufficient, cleans off her duster again, and says, "So. Where do we start?"

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