"A Night in the Life of: E" by Toni J Kaukinen

She was the thing that went "Cookies!" in the night.
        She walked through dreamstuff, clad in flowers, then in leather, and next in a black gown, pearl ear-rings and high heels. Here and there she could see and sense things she might take and pull with her back past the confines of physical and subconscious.
        For tonight, Ensitheli wanted something different. Nostalgic, yet flashy - it was, after all, her first time outside the ravages of dreamspace for a while. (What, a decade? Three? Uhh...)
        She rummaged through dreams before finally zeroing on a particular one of a Broadway show, as dreamt by a man by now in his eighties. She melded through a Candyland wall... straight into a scene when the man, rejuvinated back into his prime, tapdanced down the stairs surrounded by dancers performing moves of Broadway-style, Broadway fame.
        Her blonde head tilted from side to side rhythmically with the music as she danced her way across the floor past extras almost flirtingly. She took her time, making sure he noticed her sparkling eyes. A step, a pirouette, and she was in front of him. When she had eye contact, she smiled and willed the music to change. Change the music and you change the mood, she had learned early in the game.
        "Come here often, doll?" asked the man in an accent straight out of a Bugsy-movie, his hat dangling roguishly over one eye. He offered his hand.
        "First time, hunk," she purred and took the hand, closing so they could dance. "Be gentle."
        Innuendo, she knew, worked best.

        Flagstaff, AZ.
        She stepped out of a phone booth to regard a city at night. It was raining heavily, so she sniffed once at the sky in a mortified manner, opened the phone booth door and pulled out a black umbrella. With it, she sheltered her newly acquired attire from the rain and resumed eyeing the city.
        Smiling to herself, Ensitheli wondered why she even was there in the first place. Before she got to the second thought, the follow-up to the wondering, she patted the front of her (or, well, his) coat and then fished out a cigar which lit itself when it touched her lips. Yeah, she mused and glanced with a quirked eyebrow to her left, where a group of teenagers were walking. The prospect of a better existence. (The word 'future' meant little to Ensitheli.) There was an uproar going on, related to a death, and that had created a... what was it called? A vacuum that had to be filled.
        She saw possibilities there, but the circumstances that scared her into it were quite dire enough for her to act even without the prospect of possible gain.
        She giggled quietly as she laid eyes upon a passing teenage girl's very poor quality, triangular ear-rings. And the clothes on them all, especially the... coloured sun glasses? Shaking her head she headed down the street, ignoring the giggles of the teenagers. She had style. They were wearing coats with 3/4 sleeves, and 3/4 length leggings. As for the hair... oh, the hair. Banana clips and stick-up bangs. (She pretended she didn't give a tinker's damn about the boys, but the pants looked painfully tight.)
        Still grinning around her cigar, Ensitheli rounded the corner and sniffed the air. (Cookies, twelve o'clock. And coffee.) Yes. But things were brightening and bad. If Loki was dead, then... Loki was dead and there was something about to happen. She smoked her cigar outside the café door and puffed pacman-shaped smoke rings with sharp teeth, frowning. The vacuum... something had to fill it...
        "Frankly, E," she said to herself, "that's a bit ambitious." She chuckled to herself, squinting and staring at dreamstuff. A tide swam past her, but she didn't let it take her away. Tides. Yes, tides, and the dreamer. He might make it easier, considering how something might stand between the goal and her.
        Or things. Who knew. It was an uproar, so of course all the pawns, bishops, rooks, and - even - queens would dance their ballet on the black and the white... and, as she did, on the shades of gray. And as it was, she knew there was the obligatory time constraint. Damn the gods. But what was she expecting, with them partying all the time and then having the hangover of the century. Literally. A century.
        It must take a lot of coffee to clear off that hangover, she contemplated as she ordered tea and a few big chocolate chip cookies with cinnamon, slipping the employee some Monopoly money that certainly looked like real US dollars.

        Thinking back on how she had heard of Loki's death made her chuckle.
        She had been playing poker with the dogs of Coolidge, and done pretty nicely at that, despite Mr. Monocle's annoying habit of getting four-of-a-kinds suspiciously often. The collie had just started hitting on her when out of dreamstuff, right in the middle of the table, fell a cupid.
        "'Ere now," said the bulldog, "wot've we go' 'ere?"
        "See there, cute stuff," said the collie to Ensitheli, who was regarding the situation with a smile that threatened to erupt into a grin, "is that a sign of Aphrodite's blessing or what?"
        "Oh, rubbish," said Mr. Monocle and tossed a few more chips on the table, two of which hit the cupid on the head. "She is too busy modelling, and besides, she fired them."
        Ensitheli shook her head and at them all, staring at her cards. A few of her chips hit the cupid that was slowly getting up on his feet. "Besides, last I heard, Hermes, the Yggdrasil squirrels and the lot started recruiting the cupids as messengers."
        "Speshull..." the poor cupid started, and was again hit by a chip. This time, though, he lost his balance. "...messhudge," he whimpered and fell back on his face.
        Ensitheli quirked an eyebrow. "Gents? Any of you expecting a message of any kind?"
        "Issa speshull, miss, that'd mean it ain't somethin' we'd expect," said the bulldog and growled briefly. "Too steep fer me," he grunted and laid his cards on the table.
        "Well, if it's a special," said the collie, "it might be from Aphrodite?"
        She giggled. "Aramis, you're such a flirt." Then she looked at the cupid. "Cupid!"
        The cupid, standing up with a drunk expression on his face, turned to stare blearily at Ensitheli. "Eh? Oh, roight. Which one of yous... you two ladies is... uhh... En-cee-thee-lee?"
        "...it's Ensitheli," she smiled. "That'd be me."
        The cupid closed one eye and watched for a moment. Hiccoughing, he made his way to the right of Ensitheli and, quite miserably, fell off the table.
        "Now I remember," said Mr. Monocle and tossed a few more chips on the table, "why Aphrodite got rid of them."
        "Yeah," said Ensitheli and elbowed the collie before he got to the cupid's message. She picked it up, the little yellowed scroll sealed with what appeared to be honey wax. Curiously, she sniffed it, hummed and tossed a few more chips into the pot before anybody asked anything.
        "Well?" asked Aramis, the collie. "Is it from..."
        "Cool it, Laddie," growled the bulldog.
        Ensitheli found that amusing, but didn't pay any attention to the two dogs. She broke the seal and began to read (and absent-mindedly pushed Aramis to the side).
        

        Ensitheli's lips twitched. It was a form letter. A damned form letter. The same kind she had received upon Loki's umpteenth wedding and previous umpteenth funeral.
        But it meant that she had a fortnight of competition, danger and... potential.

        A fortnight. What a nightmare. They had a fortnight until something happened, and in Ensitheli's experience, when there was a standard magical time constraint before 'something' happened, well, things tended to be... not good at all. Everybody was in a hurry to be part of that 'something,' and even knowing the person because of whom the entire 'something' happened put you in danger.
        Almost broodingly, she returned to contemplating her plan. Some would inevitably want to take advantage of the old man's death in the wrong way and shut off all magic to the world, as they had tried to many times earlier. She grinned, green eyes gleaming in a most psychotic manner, and sipped her tea eagerly. She couldn't let that happen, now, could she?
        But hold! Ensitheli told herself. She couldn't do it alone, no sir.
        But she did have... friends... and, above all...
        "Cookies," she purred.