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It occurred to me, as I was creeping along the corridor out of the sacred hall, that if anyone happened to be walking the other way I would be screwed. If anyone at all happened to wake up at four in the morning and think, "Hey! I should check on the little statue of my fire god!" and trot along to do so, there was nowhere to hide in this dark, narrow, straight-as-an-arrow pass. I could see, however, because the little statue glowed.

My employer had warned me that it would glow. I got a blackout bag in response, and now I was wishing I had actually put more thought into that because it glowed right through the bag as though it wasn't there, shining brightly onto the plaster and reflecting, and I had this horribly sinking feeling that I was going to trigger a symbol or eight as soon as I stepped out of the hall.

I paused for a moment, heart beating rapidly. My breath seemed to echo back at me in the same way that the light did, but I knew that was an illusion of my magic. It seemed loud to me, but to everyone else I was invisible on the auditory level, if nothing else.

In the bag, under the statuette, was a dry-erase marker. Slinging the bag over one arm for a moment, I searched for it and yelped, the sound pounding on my ears as I yanked my hand back out of the bag. The tips of my fingers were burnt.

I have a policy, you know; when the going gets tough, put it back where you found it and move to a different country. I began to retrace my steps at a run, but the bag was growing heavier and that's never a good sign when it's also beginning to wriggle around and growl.

I have another policy, which to be honest I never had before that moment. As the bag hit the concrete floor with a dull, clay-sounding thunk but still continued to snort, I decided that if crazy magic shenanigans happen when I try to put it back, it's okay to just get the hell out.

I ran, my footsteps like thunderclaps and my heart like taiko drums. To the outside world, I was a rumor, a small breeze in my wake, the door opening and closing as I passed, but no sound to the weight.

Slamming the door made me wince, however, and that's how they got me; I stopped for a brief moment in full view of a camera.

As soon as I dashed outside, I was stopped by a young man who is on the news a lot. He grabbed me by the shoulder, smiled politely and introduced himself with, "Hello, I'm Charlie and you're Andrew and you have a lot of questions but right now we don't have the time," and dragged me off into time and space.

Okay that sounds melodramatic. He dragged me about ten hours into the future and several hundred feet to the left, where he pointed me at a big clay cat with furious eyes. It looked at me and roared, a horrible sound since clay wasn't supposed to have vocal chords in the first place.

"You made a mess," Charlie said cheerfully. The kid never really shuts up, even with a gun to his face. "So, since you made this mess, you're going to clean it up."

I have a rather active imagination for a 28 year old. For a moment I had a vision of being fed to the lion before I remembered that clay doesn't eat.

"This beastie has been eating people left and right for the last few hours, and it almost got one of my very good friends earlier, so I think you'd better think of a way to calm it down before I get impatient."

"It... it's clay," I protested weakly.

"And it's magical," Charlie finished. "Honestly, what did you think was going to happen when you stole a god's Idol from one of the oldest families in the country? That you were going to get paid, go home, and have a bath? Hell no, gods hate it when people try to steal things from them, ever since fire. By the way, the family that owned it suggested that it's searching for you so it can eat you, which really means that I almost created a paradox by bringing you here, but it would be worse if I didn't so I need to ask if you've figured out what you're going to do yet?"

My throat was dry, it was the middle of the day when it was supposed to be the middle of the night, a man lit on fire was weaving around the huge cat's legs with surprising grace, and the cat apparently wanted to eat me.

"Let it eat me?" I asked weakly.

Charlie looked surprised. "Really? That's the best you can do? I was thinking that we'd reverse the effect you had on it when you touched it by using the huge symbol-mat my mom's making a few streets over, and use you as bait."

The cat's huge paw crunched on one of the big blue mailboxes on the side of the street. The metal screeched under its claws, which rippled out and tossed the box at the man currently engaged in jumping up and down on one of its other feet.

Charlie gasped, disappearing for a moment and reappearing next to the man. He did something rather stupid but brave and grabbed the man's elbow, teleporting back.

The man staggered and swore, "What the hell, Charlie, at least you could warn me so I would turn my stupid fire off before you grabbed me!"

Charlie whimpered, disappearing again. He came back with his hand wrapped in gauze and he smelled like hospital.

"Anyways," Charlie said as the cat finally was able to focus its attention on me. "Now is the time to start running."

"Where?" I yelped in surprise, but I'm a natural runner. When I see a huge clay cat that is the embodiment of the god of cats wriggling its rear in the air, the first thing I do is run away.