By the time I exited our building and went into the garage, it was almost six. Bright enough to see without a flashlight, but not exactly what I'd call daytime. The street was as quiet as a city the size of Charlotte ever gets; there were a few people out and about, but the hustle and bustle hadn't truly started yet. 

I found myself wishing I could drive. I had tried driving dad's last pickup truck a couple of times, but I'd never been able to get the hang of it. The keyword being ‘last,’ as I had totalled the poor bucket of bolts. Dad had been rather relieved when I told him I was going to use public transit instead. Unfortunately, said transit wasn't going to be at my stop for another hour. My only option was to get there on foot.

Now, I wouldn't say I was out of shape, but it had been a long time since I had actively exercised. I had been on my high school's swimming team, but that was nearly seven years ago, and time hadn't been overly kind on my body. I settled for a brisk jog that I estimated would take about 15 minutes.

I was left wondering what mess Mark had gotten himself into this time. What could be so serious that he wanted me to be armed? I distracted myself from worrying until I got there by thinking about what had happened before I left the apartment.

Who was this uppity bitch that got mom killed and just showed up out of nowhere after all these years? How had she gotten mom killed? Mom had been killed when a tanker truck exploded. What had she been talking about when she had said dad hadn’t told me anything? A cold hate washed over me at the thought. I had been close with my mother. Closer than I’d ever been with dad. 

My mind wandered and I eventually ended up thinking I should've grabbed something to eat on the way out. Maybe a piece of toast to hold in my mouth as I run. I joked to myself. 

As I was getting about halfway there, I noticed there was an alleyway to my right that was blocked off by cop cars. With the number of cops there, there must've been something serious going on. As I passed, I heard the sound of someone throwing up coming from the alleyway. I doubled my pace and averted my eyes. Whatever it was, I had no desire to see it.

After a couple more minutes, I arrived at Mark’s building, went up the stairs and knocked on the door to the apartment. There was no response. I knocked again and called out.

"Mark? You in there bud?" Still no response. My stomach dropped as I fretted about what could have happened to him since we talked. Had I been too late to save him from whatever had scared him so much? 

As I was starting to panic my phone rang briefly, then the door clicked unlocked and my phone stopped. Mark opened the door with a relieved look on his face. He was a lithe guy with dark ochre skin and shoulder length black curly hair that was currently unkempt. He was wearing black skinny jeans and a loose tee. 

"Hey, sorry. Had to make sure it was you." Mark explained as he looked up and down the hall. 

"It's alright, man. Let's just get inside." I assured him. He stepped inside to let me in, then locked the door behind me. 

Mark’s apartment was depressingly ritzy compared to my dad’s and mine. He had two full sized couches and a massive widescreen tv, complete with 7.1 surround sound. Mark’s drum set was in one corner and each wall had a few of those sound muffling foam panels. I had suggested getting them a couple years back after an angry neighbor smashed the lamp outside the apartment because we had been practicing for a show.

We had been in a punk band called The Knights of Low Fidelity. I had been the lead singer and bassist but had quit due to the stress of playing live. Megan and Jesse, our bandmates, had argued we weren't actually popular and had never played for more than 50 people, so the anxiety couldn’t be bad enough to quit. Mark told them to stop being “two individual sacks of dicks.” They had apologized after that, but I hadn’t been all that close with them afterwards. 

"I don't think the danger is immediate, but no reason to risk it." Mark assured me.

"Alright, you have time to explain then? What the hell happened?" 

"You eat breakfast yet?" Mark asked, ignoring my question. "There are fresh muffins from McCormick's on the counter if you want them."

As much as I wanted answers, the prospect of muffins from the best bakery in downtown Charlotte was too seductive of an offer to ignore on an empty stomach, so I eagerly accepted his offer. 

"That would be great. You got coffee?"

"In the pot. You go ahead and eat your fill. I've got to make a call."

"Thanks muchly." I replied cheerfully, glad that something was going right today. I fixed myself a cup of coffee and ate a muffin in relative silence, While Mark had a whispered conversation over the phone. By the time he called me over I was on my second cup.

"Hey Lucas, I got a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Have you seen anything…weird in the past couple days?"

“Yeah, actually there was a woman calling herself Glaistig who came by just before I left. She gave me a weird book as a birthday present. Its pages looked like they could've been made of liquid mercury.” Mark’s eyes went wide as saucers when I said the name. “Dad seemed to know her fairly well.” I added, trying to dissuade whatever had shocked him about it. 

Said attempt failed magnificently as his mouth went agape. His expression would’ve been quite funny if the situation wasn’t as dire as Mark seemed to think it was.

“Oh fuck,.” Mark spat. “I think I fucked up big involving you. Well, I guess, involving you more.” 

“Involving me in what? You still haven’t told me what’s going on.”

"Uhh, gimme a sec to think." He requested, and I reluctantly did as he asked. Eventually, he came to a decision. "I've got to show you something. Wait here."

"Alrighty."

I remembered I still needed to call my boss to lie about being sick today. The crash bug on our app I was supposed to fix would have to wait. Then, while I was making another cup of coffee, Mark came back holding a piece of paper. Drawn on it in ink was a circle with mystical-looking runes on the inside of it.

"Hey that one was in the book Glaistig gave me." I said gesturing to the drawing.

"That figures. He muttered. "I need you to swear you won't repeat anything I show or tell you to anyone not in the know."

"I swear it." I agreed without hesitation. 

He put a hand palm-down on the edge of the circle, and I noticed his fingernails were completely black. After a confused second I realized it was nail polish. He must have noticed me staring, because he quickly took his hand back and casually slid both of them under the table. 

"Is that…nail polish?" I asked hesitantly. Something bothered me about him wearing nail polish, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Yeah, so?" He sounded rather defensive about it.

"Why?" I asked. 

"Loads of punk guys wear nail polish. It's a big 'fuck you' to the man for telling us how we're supposed to look."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," I allowed. Of course he was right about that. Both punks and goths have been painting their nails black for decades. 

"Anyway it prevents my nails from getting too roughed up ‘cause how hard I play." 

"Okay, whatever. There are more important things going on than sticking it to the man right now."

"Who are you and what have you done to Lucas?" He asked with his trademark shit-eating grin. 

"Ha ha, very funny Mark. Can we get on with it?" My reply only made him smile more. I tried to act all indignant but couldn't manage it for long as he started laughing. I joined in shortly afterwards. It was nice to see him smiling again. He'd been on edge ever since I got here. 

After the laughter subsided, Mark told me he forgot something in the other room. I let my mind wander while I waited. My thoughts turned back to the nail polish. 

I was somewhat in awe of how comfortable Mark was in his masculinity to paint his nails. Not because I wanted to paint my nails, obviously. I was just jealous of his confidence. He never really cared about what other people thought of him, but unlike me he did something with that, instead of always looking like a mess. Even if that something seemed kind of…

"Lucas, you with me?" Mark asked loudly, and probably not for the first time, breaking my train of thought. He had come back into the room and sat down on the couch again.

"Y-yeah, sorry,” I stammered, ”I zoned out for a sec."

"Whatever. we need to get on with it. Please don't freak out." Mark placed his hand on the edge of the circle again and muttered something under his breath.

The ink began to glow with a pale green light. The light, along with the ink, flowed to the point in the center of the circle, then it went straight up until it hovered in a small ball a few inches over the paper. Over the next few seconds the ball became brighter and brighter. Then the light began to dim, and a small green sphere of some kind of goo was in its place. Suddenly, the orb dropped back on the paper with an unceremonious splat. 

I sat stunned for a moment. My initial thought was this is some kind of elaborate prank. But after what I'd seen today, and with how serious Mark had been since he called me, I couldn't convince myself he was lying. Also, accepting that magic was real meant I didn't have to entertain the possibility my mind had finally snapped.

"I'm a mage." He proclaimed. He splayed his arms out as if that explained everything.

"A mage." I repeated flatly.

"You seem a lot less surprised than I had expected." Mark stated.

"Yesterday my reaction would've been much different, but at this point I'd be more surprised if magic didn't exist.”

“You being a ‘mage’ still doesn’t explain what’s going on.”

“Hold your horses. There’s a lot of context to it. ”

“Ok first thing’s first. A lot of myths and folklore are about things that actually happened. Not all of them, but things like fairies, vampires, and demons are all real. Most magical beings have organized themselves into nations. The ones important to what’s happening now are the Order of Eternity and the Seelie and Unseelie sidhe. The Order of Eternity is an international group of mortal magic users. I’m a mid rank member of the Order.” He explained.

“Mid rank? That sounds kinda impressive for someone your age.”

“I’d like to call it hard work and natural talent, but there’s more than a little nepotism in there. My parents are senators in the Order.”

“So you lied about them being lawyers then.”

“Well, actually, they do have law degrees and they practice law. It's just not US law.” Mark asserted. “I tried to be as truthful as I could, Lucas”

“That’s fair, I guess,” I grumbled. I wasn’t happy he hadn’t told me fucking magic exists, but it’s not like I wouldn’t have done different, so I couldn’t be too upset.

“I was supposed to be one of the guards at the signing of a treaty declaring a truce between the sidhe. This was to be the first cease of warfare between the two courts.”

“The she? There's a nation of only women?" I questioned. 

"No, it's spelled s-i-d-h-e.” He corrected me. “Also, just because someone uses she/her pronouns doesn't automatically mean they're a woman."

"Wait what do you mean?” I asked, confused. “Women are by definition shes." 

He sighed. "Y'know Lucas, you can be a real clueless idiot sometimes."

"Hey fuck you too," I retorted petulantly.

"Look, we can talk about that later. Right now we're in deep shit."

"Ok whatever," I relented, Still puzzled by what he had meant. 

“Anyway, the sidhe are kind of like the nobility of the fae. They are the living incarnation of the seasons and of nature in general. Seelie consist of the Summer and Spring courts and Unseelie are Winter and Fall. They can't knowingly tell a lie, but they’re one of the most manipulative creatures out there. They follow the rules of hospitality like religious fanatics, and are practically immortal, but iron can put them out of commission for a while. Also don't ever make a deal with one."

“Got it, manipulative but polite,” I echoed 

"The Seelie are usually nice to mortals. They see humans similarly to how we see dogs. That is, dumb and mostly helpless. Most of them will only kill mortals if they feel they need to, and they'll be a little upset about it. Still wildly dangerous, possibly more so than the Unseelie if you let your guard down. Their counterparts are the Unseelie. They are all around bad news. Not exactly evil, per se, but most of them are close enough to it. They’ll kill you just for the sport of it.”

"Glaistig is one of the sidhe, isn't she?" I guessed. 

"Right on the money, but she's not just any old sidhe. She's the Seelie ambassador to the Unseelie. Sent here to sign the treaty. That brings me to what I saw: the assassination of the Unseelie ambassador, Jenny Greenteeth. She was a young upstart; only a few hundred years old. She was sent as an insult to the Seelie while still remaining technically cordial. And the cherry on top? Whatever killed her looked exactly like me."

“Oh,” I said, starting to realize just how fucked we were.

“Oh, indeed,” He agreed.