A murder of crows sang a grating melody from the rooftop of the ancient, decrepit building. Miles from civilization and surrounded by tangles and weeds which had easily been built up for years, the gothic-style cathedral was a haunting landmark of forces beyond mortal understanding. A deep bell tolled, creating a resounding shockwave that scattered the birds as I approached the dilapidated structure.

 

Among the musty and cobwebbed pews sat a lone figure, dressed head to toe in black. Only a young and cocky face could be seen, a stark pale contrasting their frankly macabre sense of style. “Ms. Crane, I’ve been expecting you,” said today’s candidate. Between the gaudy choice of meeting locals and the Bond-villainesque vocal act I already wasn’t impressed. “Please, sit, there’s nothing to fear… except of course the unknown!”

 

I fought back my instinct to roll my eyes and walk out right then. Honestly, there should be some kind of mercy-flush rule with these assessments. Unfortunately, this was the work-study course I had selected and I wasn’t allowed to leave until I could say with definitive proof if this joker in front of me was one of us or not. I took my seat next to Azazel, real name Alfred Mcintyre but I could appreciate the biblical and comic book reference he was going for. “Look, dude, can you just drop the whole edgy schtick? I get that it drives your little groupies wild and gets you more strange than your little stage show ever did back in college but I can assure you, that is SO not what I’m here for.” Resting my elbows on the backrest of the pew I kicked my feet up onto the seat in front of us and leaned back. Should I have shown more reverence in a place people used to revere as a house of God? Probably. Would I lose any sleep over this? Nope, not a wink.

 

At first, the mention of his depressingly short-lived stint as Alfred, the Magnificent shattered the confident facade he had led with. Within seconds, however, his smile returned wider and he adopted a posture almost as relaxed as mine. “Oh, a long time fan of mine, I see.” No, creepo, just a professional that does her research. “Well, I’ll drop my act if you drop yours.” Alfred placed a hand on my thigh and I shot him a glare sharp enough to impale him. 

 

“You take your hand off of me now and I might just let you keep all of your fingers.” My voice was mirthless, cruel, and left no room for interpretation, even for a deplorable cretin like Alfred. The gothed out wannabe raised his hands in mock surrender and chuckled lightly. “I wasn’t kidding, Mr. Mcintyre. I don’t make empty threats. Now, will you just get on with the reading so I can get on with my life?”

 

Alfred Mcintyre, twenty-nine years old, accused of manipulating vulnerable women into carnal relationships and failing that, violating them without consent. Translation, grade-A scumbag. Now the matter of Alfred’s guilt has already been settled by those above my paygrade, no question about that. However, my employers can’t act on this information unless Alfred: A) has the supernatural powers he claims to have, and B) actively uses them to commit his crimes. I’ve already drawn my own conclusions about him but I’ll stay for his entire performance just to do my due diligence. The odds of him being a true blue mage are about a million to one but damn was I hoping he’d shock me and use real magic. I really wanted to put this lecher in his place.

 

With a poised smile, Alfred snapped with two gloved fingers. The shutters on all of the windows smacked shut and the large wooden doors groaned with effort as they seemed to close themselves. Very impressive, except for the fact that there wasn’t any magic residue in the air leading me to believe the source of his incredible power was picked up on clearance from Radioshack. “As you wish M’lady.” Holy crap, he said the thing! Damn, I should have brought my neckbeard bingo card with me. “Now, picture in your mind the face of one lost to you, more precious than life itself. Let your mind call out to them from beyond the aether and beckon their spirit back to our own mortal realm.” Well, he certainly wasn’t using any chant that I’d heard of. Granted, all of the legit mediums and necromancers I had met tended to have an odd flair for the dramatic so it could still just be his personal embellishments. Wind began to stir in the otherwise still room and I could barely hear the fans blasting just out of my eye line. Well, he at least sprung for the expensive silent ones, gotta give him that.

 

The man in front of me began waving his arms in the air like he just don’t care. His entire display started to remind me of one of those plastic flappy men in front of car dealerships and he started yelling in tongues I could have sworn were quoted directly from some exorcism movie. At the end of all this fanfare, Alfred went limp dropping all of his pomp at once and looking at me with a feeble expression. “I am now a conduit for the spirit. I-- I’m getting a name. It-- it starts with an… A?” Bzzt, that was the buzzer folks and it would seem that our dear darling poser was about as much a real mage as Dr. Pepper was licensed to perform surgery.

 

Disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to deal with this world-class creepazoid myself, I stood from my pew and decided to at least console myself with the knowledge that I wouldn’t ever have to see his ugly mug again. As I stepped away, Alfred’s arm shot up and he gripped my elbow roughly. “Now now, baby, I know it can be intimidating seeing things beyond your understanding. Don’t be scared, I’ll take care of you.”

 

Oh well, I did warn him. Wordlessly calling on the shadows, I summoned a small blade of darkness that swiped up my arm leaving behind a bloody stump where Alfred’s pinky used to be. I suppose it took a moment for Alfred to process his missing digit since his screams came a few seconds after its severance. “W--What the fuck. What the fuck did you do to me you crazy bitch!?”

 

“Now Alfred, name-calling? Isn’t that below someone of your status and acclaim?” The man I had come to investigate was on his feet now. He switched between looking at me and his mutilated hand until his mind came to a conclusion he would immediately regret. Alfred wound up an arm and came at me, somehow thinking that punching me in the face would be the most constructive use of his day. The shadows around me sprung to life and a chorus of snarls and growls echoed in the sealed chamber. As Alfred’s fist got within a foot of me, a mass of shadow leapt from the floor and sunk its fangs into my attacker's arm, knocking him to the floor as a pack of shadowy figures emerged and encircled him.

 

Struggling to dislodge the shadow-wolf attached to his arm while sizing up the group of angry canines that had surrounded him, Alfred looked at me for the last time. “Just… what the fuck are you!?”

 

As I stepped towards the exit, the wooden doors parted bidden by true magic this time. The first light to enter the cathedral since Alfred’s parlor trick illuminated my lovely familiars and gave the now crying man a sneak peek of his demise. “Now now, baby, I know it can be intimidating seeing things beyond your understanding. Don’t be scared, I’ll take care of you,” with those parting words I stepped into the sunlight to a chorus of screams and the joyful sounds of feeding time.

 

***

 

The elevator jostled slightly as it made the long trip to the thirty-second floor of my University. Yes, a college located in a skyscraper smack in the middle of a bustling city wasn’t exactly conventional. Considering our curriculum, however, I’m not sure conventional was ever really an option. One of my classmates and coworkers, Ira, stood stock still next to me during our ride. “So, I heard the Mcintyre job went sideways. They said the regular authorities couldn’t even identify the body until they got DNA back from the lab.”

 

Ira and I saw eye to eye on a great many things, one of which was a loose restriction of force when it came to dealing with true monsters in the world. “Yep, Mr. Mcintyre attacked me and I responded with lethal force as permitted in the guidelines.”

 

“And the mutilation of the corpse?”

 

I couldn’t hold back a smirk as I spoke. “Well, I hadn’t let my babies eat junk food in quite some time. Decided to spoil them a bit.”

 

The tall, dark, and handsome man with the shaved head beside me snorted as he struggled to hold down his own sadistic laughter. “Well then, as long as it was all by the book I won’t shed a single tear for him.” The elevator chimed as we reached our mutual destination. As usual, this was where we parted ways. I headed to the criminal enforcement wing and he to the investigative branch. As was tradition, the two of us high-fived as we parted, dropping the stiff professionalism we had shared in the elevator. “You stay safe out there Mads, I would hate to be the only good looking agent left in the department.”

 

I simply shrugged in response. “With a face like yours, I’m not sure you have anything to be concerned about.” Ira strutted away with a one-finger salute directed right at me.

 

So, Madeleina, how does this strange University of yours work exactly? Well, I’m glad you asked my sweet innocent summer children. My University, the Malecine Institute of Advanced Spellcasting, is a magical University and internship all wrapped into one. Where skilled tradesmen and tradeswomen of all powers and specialties come together to bring up the next generation. We have floors dedicated to alchemy, military applications, mad science, elementalism, druidic arts, necromancy, hieromancy, and every other mancy you can imagine. I myself, for reasons I don’t want to get into, have chosen to specialize in magical law. Previously, I’d been enrolled at another institution and on a fast track to master dark magic. Suffice it to say things didn’t work out.

 

As I entered my boss’ office, the pudgy, red-faced man I answered to heaved out a massive sigh. “ Did you really have to dismember him? Really? Do the words over and kill when put together mean nothing to you?”

 

“Killover?” The poorly executed joke had barely left my lips when a rolled-up newspaper flew off of Samson’s desk and swatted my head. “Sorry, sorry, I get it. Smart mouths get thrown out.” Yeah, the old man I was studying under was old school, who could have seen that coming.

 

Samson’s face was already slick from sweat and he seemed out of breath as usual. “The amount of goddamn paperwork you put me through. I have half a mind to write you up for this. Next time, I swear, there will be consequences,” he vowed for the millionth time. As Samson went on his regularly scheduled tirade I nodded along as usual. He acted like a hardass but he was just a giant, greasy, less-adorable teddy bear. “Do I make myself clear?” I could tell his rant was over since he pointed a single finger at me and squinted like a cowboy out of an old spaghetti western flick.

 

“Crystal. Sir, yes, sir. Oh, Captain my captain.” With my obviously overzealous answer, I earned another swat from Samson’s newspaper. Worth it.

 

“Of all the insubordinate little shits…” Samson mumbled just loud enough for me to hear him. “Are you ready for your next assignment or what?”

 

Fighting back the urge to go for the hat trick in swattings with a well-timed ‘or what?’ I decided to actually start taking my job seriously for a change. “Yeah, hit me boss man.”

 

Normally, Samson assigning a case is like watching someone play an intricate game of manila folder Jenga with themselves as they attempt not to disturb the sky-high piles of paperwork upon his desk. Today, a thin black folder was immediately thrown in front of me. “This… isn’t like your other assignments.” I stared at the folder for a good minute taking in the golden embossed seal from the cover. Two mages with staffs crossed under a frozen sun adorned the cover… This was from Truehaven University. “Normally, this would have gone straight to our investigative department but considering your relation to the matter at hand… well, take a look.”

 

I cautiously touched the folder with one finger, not entirely certain that the very act wouldn’t have sent my pointer ablaze. Opening the folder I found a single piece of paper, a staff member profile from the school with a large rubber-stamped ‘Missing’ streaked across the page diagonally. Professor Riley Crane, Master of Dark Magic. “Mom,” I squeaked out, having come face to face with my mother’s photo for the first time in years.

 

***

 

It took no time at all for my school to set up a transfer and ship me back to the home I used to know. At first, I considered refusing the job. There was nothing for me here anymore. I had nothing more to prove to these people and could have gone my entire life without seeing a single one of my former classmates or teachers. No, it wasn’t some shred of remaining sentimentality or loyalty as a daughter that beckoned me back. The only thing that could possibly have convinced me to make this journey, was fear. My mother is not normal… even by our standards. She had become a master of her arcane arts at the age of ten. She ascended to a seat in parliament by seventeen. By thirty, she had become chancellor of our little corner of the world and completely dismantled the old government she had gamed so well. Then suddenly, at thirty-five, she dropped everything to teach at Truehaven. It was a shock to the system that nobody saw coming save for herself. She had treated the world as a game to be won and simply quit when she had achieved all she had set out to do. Her powers rivaled those of the originators who brought the gift of magic to our world and not a single soul alive or dead would pose even a fraction of a challenge to her… and now she was missing.

 

The presumption in most missing person cases is that the person who went missing did so against their will. Not in this case. If my mom truly was missing, she’d set it up herself. Whatever she was planning had to be stopped.

 

“Excuse me, class, please settle down. We have a new student transferring to our neck of the woods from Malecine. Would you like to say a few words dear?” Miss Milton stepped back and allowed me to take center stage at the front of the classroom. I suppose nobody here would remember me from my last stint here considering how different I was now. Good. Now for the matter of dealing with classmates. I had no intention of staying here a moment longer than necessary and dealing with a bunch of hemming and hawing would just slow down my investigation. I suppose the answer was to do what I did best… be an asshole.

 

“Listen here and listen well, fuckfaces. I am better than you all in every conceivable way. I don’t want to talk to any of you, I don’t want to be friends, if you ask me to braid your hair I WILL yank it out. You leave me alone and I’ll show you the same courtesy. Stay. Out. Of. My. Way.” A tad dramatic, but that should have gotten my point across. Oh shit, almost forgot. “My name’s Madelaina, nice to meet you.” With that, I left a flabbergasted teacher in my wake and sat in the nearly deserted back row of the classroom. Never in my life did I think I’d be facing a fucking chalkboard again, but there I was, waiting for a lecture to begin on a subject I would be more qualified to teach than this bumbling substitute.

 

“Psst.” The lecture droned on and on as I struggled to remain conscious. “Psst, hey, new girl!” I’d give anything to be able to walk out and start my search in earnest but I had to maintain my cover as a student in order to not tip off mama bear. Last thing I needed was a premature family reunion before I'd figured out her new game. “C’mon, answer me.” Oh, for the love of God.

 

“What!?” I called back to the only other denizen of the back row who seemed hell-bent on ruining my train of thought. “I thought I made it clear that I don’t want to talk. Now shut up and listen to your little remedial lesson. I’ve got bigger fish to fry, girl.”

 

The young woman beamed a wide smile at me. “Hey there, I’m Silah!” Okay, was she deaf or just that stupid? What part of ‘leave me alone’ didn’t she understand? “I loved your introduction, very tsundere.” What the fuck was a tsundere? “Anyway, I was thinking that we should be friends.” The woman's smile only grew wider as she made her egregious proposal.

 

“Fuck off,” I reasonably responded. The woman chuckled. Wait, chuckled!?

 

“That’s perfect,” she mused, twirling an errant strand of her long and curly red hair. “You can’t go breaking your character just yet, that kind of inconsistency would never jive with the fans. You have to wait until the season is at least half over before you reveal the chocolatey center of your Mrs. Grump bar.”

 

Chocolatey center? Did I have a stroke on my way here? Did the combined stress of my job and the impending doom caused by my kin trigger some kind of terrible mental break? The toothy grin she maintained caused the freckles on her face to dance like stars on the ceiling of a planetarium as her rising cheeks bid her eyes to close. Then, just as quickly as she had stormed into my attention span, she turned away and started taking notes on the lesson.

 

Hours later, the lunch bell chimed and one overly enthusiastic redhead slid her desk next to mine. “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked plainly, genuinely curious about her thought process.

 

Chuckling to herself as if I’d just told a decent joke she started laying out food on her table. “Having lunch with my new friend, of course.”

 

Alright, this tomfoolery had gone too far. Hell, it went so far that I remembered the word tomfoolery, when did I add that to my vocabulary? “Nope, not friends. Never will be friends.”

 

“Buddies?”

 

“What? No, my disdain for you is palpable.”

 

“So, pals then.” She had to be doing this on purpose. Either that or this was divine retribution on a biblical scale for all of the wrongs I had wrought.

 

“NO! We are not friends, or pals, or buddies, or chums, or comrades, or even associates. You are nothing to me.” I slid my table away from hers only to have it follow me as if by magic. Oh, right, magic school, duh.

 

Looking thoughtfully at the ceiling, Silah rapped her fingertips across her chin in a constant rhythm. “How about… acquaintances?”

 

The palm of my hand met my face with force enough that I was positive I’d be sporting a red handprint for a week. Had I truly fallen this far as to be defeated and demoralized on a mental and spiritual level? “If it will get you to shut up, fine. We can be acquaintances.”

 

The bubbly force of nature next to me hopped with excitement at my declaration. “Hooray, best acquaintances! We’re going to have such great fun, Maddy!” Somehow, I already regretted my decision.