In the cold dark, I steeled my nerves and stepped across the threshold. Almost immediately, things went to hell. Just like they had before. 

Hazel started screaming first. 

She had been the furthest in, crouched down behind a tombstone before something scared the daylights out of her. Now she was on her butt, scrambling backwards away from an affront to nature. The ghost loomed over her, its too-present form corrupting the night around it: a jagged nail against the chalkboard of my soul. A patchwork of jagged scars and open wounds, it was a vision of terror. Scraps of tattered, indistinct fabric shrouded its body and stringy patches of greasy hair clung in clumps to the shriveled skull. 

I started running, it was the only thing I could do.

Shoulder set low, I barreled into it like a linebacker. The thing was grotesque, but thin. Even I should have been able to knock it over. But that's not what happened. Just like the first time, I encountered no resistance and tumbled through its hideous body to the cold grass. Like it was no more substantial than thick fog. 

At the time I had thought I missed, somehow. But I knew better now. It just didn't observe the laws of nature or physics when it wasn't convenient to. At least not unless something made it.

I think Felix was shouting now, too. 

I scrambled, trying to get my feet back under me, but it was on me in the blink of an eye. Dead, sinewy claws gripped my throat and lifted me—bodily—upright with a steel cable strength I couldn't resist. It held me face to face with its skull-like visage. Thin, leathery skin was pulled too tight against a bony face. A raw, gaping wound yawned open where the nose should have been. Glassy, dead eyes stared vacantly through me, and a lipless snarl clung to its features, revealing shattered, jagged fangs. Far more than could ever fit in a human mouth.

At least three different martial arts techniques burned through my muscle memory, each more desperate than the last. My fists scythed through its head and arm. My feet kicked holes through what should have been its body. All for naught. 

My spark of anger faded, drowned in a rushing sea of fear. Tears blurred my vision as my flailing limbs lost the precision of a martial artist and became the panicked flailing of a scared kid. 

All at once, the ground leaped up to meet my feet, and the hand on my throat was no more solid than a stiff breeze. I don't actually know why this happened, now that I think about it. Maybe it couldn't maintain contact if too much of its body was incorporeal. Or maybe it just decided chasing me through the woods was more fun. Either way, the moment I was no longer restrained I was making a mad dash for the trees. 

I didn't look back.

I shouldn't have looked back. 

Of course I looked back.

It was just for a moment, but it was enough. Those things were everywhere now. As if we had kicked a beehive of undead wasps, the ghosts were swarming. It’s the only way I can describe it. Hazel was nowhere to be seen. Felix, however, was in a familiar defensive stance, and was trying to square up with three of the damned things. But he had the same problem I did: every punch sailed uselessly through their cold, incorporeal forms. 

They didn’t stand a chance. 

My friends were in distress, and I was abandoning them. 

My blood ran cold. My stomach twisted into a sickening knot. I wanted to stop, but my feet kept running. I tripped, but couldn't let myself fall. Dark branches pulled me forward. The trees swallowed me like a starving animal. 

And I ran. 

I tried not to, but I ran. 

My legs wouldn't let me stop. Blind terror drove me forward through the dark maze. Faster and faster, I hurdled forward like I was diving, crashing through branches and leaves. A distinct smell washed over me, hot and sharp. Tangy with abstract danger. Familiar, in a way that tugged urgently at the back of my distracted mind. It came along with a dry, prickling tingle that began to crawl over my skin and catch at my clothes. 

No longer in control, I raced through an endless labyrinth, then found myself hurtling off a cliff. 

It hardly registered when the trees ended. Suddenly I was weightless, hanging over an impossible void. Black infinity yawned up at me, hungrily. Ready to swallow me whole. My stomach dropped first, then gravity began its inextricable downswing. Falling into that vast nothing, the dull comfort of familiar fear started to ablate, sand-blasted away by animal terror. 

Lost to my own ears, I screamed. 

My dorm room greeted me like a wet slap as I tumbled out of the chair and onto the shabby area rug. Panting hard, I rolled onto my back and gazed vacantly at the plain, off-white ceiling, trying to wrangle my racing pulse back under control. After what felt like an eternity of labored breathing my heart rate approached some approximation of normal and I closed my eyes with a long sigh. 

That was a bad one. 

Sleeping had turned out to be an optimistic assessment of our plans, after returning to the dorm in the early hours of dawn. Over-exhausted from the previous night, sleeping shouldn’t have been a problem. It’s not like I was a stranger to irregular sleep hours, so the fact that it was morning shouldn't have been a hindrance. And yet, getting to sleep took considerable conscious effort. Worse, staying asleep for more than an hour seemed utterly beyond me. 

At least these nightmares hadn’t come with sleep paralysis so far.

Normally, after waking up screaming from a nightmare, I would have felt guilty. Preemptively, of course, just in case my terror had woken someone else up at a weird time. Especially if I was sharing a room with someone. But this time, there was only one person I could have woken up, and I would be elated if she had. 

Hazel slept deeply on my thin mattress. I had wrapped her in a blanket just in case, but she still felt warm to the touch. And despite my many repeated attempts, she was completely unfazed by loud noises. Whatever enchantment she was under, apparently it rendered her deaf to the outside world. 

It had been five hours. Maybe six, I'm not quite sure when we got back. Felix and I mutually agreed Hazel needed supervision, so I had brought her to my tiny, single room and put her to bed. Then I tried to get some shuteye myself. 

It hadn't gone well. 

No matter what I tried, every time I closed my eyes some variant of the same nightmare chewed me up and spat me back out—screaming and exhausted—in under an hour. Apparently Felix hadn't fared much better. A couple hours after we parted ways, I got a message from him saying he was going to the on-campus nurse. Then another, not much later, saying they were sending him to the hospital. Probably for the best, but without my partner in crime I was left somewhat lost. Adrift with my own thoughts, and with not much to distract me. 

This sucked.

Every part of this just sucked. Felix was hospital-level hurt, Hazel was in a magic coma, and based on the nightmares I probably had some nice psychological scars that would require professional help eventually. But as much as I wanted to shut it all out, my mind refused to stop drifting back to last night. 

Magic…

Wasn't fucking real, of course. I'm an adult, know that. I knew that. Until I saw…

I didn't see anything. I met some strangers in an abandoned church in the dead of night. Weird, but it wasn't like I had never met oddballs before. People could be weird. And honestly they hadn't made the worst first impressions ever, even Lexi. People could be awful. It mattered when they weren't.

But people being strange wasn't magic. A tall, thin guy in a suit and a cuddly bitch dressed like magical girl aristocracy didn't do anything to contradict my conventional understanding of reality. Nothing about last night was magic, right? So why did I believe it so readily at the time?

A name I was trying to forget stomped noisily across the tracks of my train of thought, causing it to pull up short. The ensuing derailment spilled hazardous memories everywhere, flooding my head with a fog of lonely longing. Each half-remembered glimpse of her pretty hands, her fluffy hair, and the warm smile she tried to use to hide the cold sharpness behind her eyes, it twisted a knife in my heart that I couldn't name. 

Oh, yeah.

With another, longer sigh I started the arduous process of picking myself up off the floor. It's not like my dorm room rug was comfortable, but apparently my aching body had grown accustomed to the particular flavor of discomfort it offered and was loudly protesting my attempts to find a new one. But like two negatives or three left turns, a distraction from a distraction can sometimes help you get back on track. 

I slowly stood upright, batting away my thinning mental fog. The cold, detached part of my head knew what denial tasted like, and it wasn't fooled by my attempts to blink away the uncomfortable memories. The ones that fit wrong, full of jagged corners and sharp edges that couldn't be sanded down with rationalizations. The memories that jumped, painfully bright, straight to the front of my mind when I so much as brushed against the edge of them; the mental equivalent of a lego in the carpet. Memories of mean, dead things that appear out of nowhere and disintegrate when zapped. 

And besides, I could still remember the sickly, oily sensation that pervaded last night, like a lingering aftertaste. As much as I wanted to, I could never ignore that. Not anymore. I've lived with this—I don't know—sense, for as long as I can remember. But I never knew what it meant, not really. I never wanted to. Not until last night at least. That was the first time I ignored the feeling in the pit of my stomach and ventured towards the source of one of those disgusting sensations. 

And look how that turned out. 

I was so lost in my own head that I stood staring at Hazel for at least a full minute before it registered. Something was different about her. Something I should have noticed a while ago.

Her eyes were open. 

I blinked. 

Nope, yup, her eyes were definitely open. Hazel's big, clear, blue-grey eyes blinked back at me from the pile of blankets. Watchful and alert, her face was the picture of quiet innocence. 

"Hazel?" I said, cautiously.

"Good morning," she replied, with a soft smile. "Sorry I didn't say anything, but it looked like you were somewhere else. I didn't want to interrupt."

"Uhh…" I stalled, off-balance, "are you… alright?"

"I think so. Maybe," she winced as she sat up, "maybe not. Ow, that's a headache."

She grimaced for a moment, head in her hands, then she started to look around the room.

"Hey, uh, Ames? Not that I mind a sleepover, but why am I in your room?"

"You… don't remember last night?"

"Last night?" Her nose scrunched up, like she was trying to remember a password. "Uhh, oh wait! Felix finally talked us into going to that bar, right?"

"What?"

"Oh, I knew I'd be a lightweight," she sighed, "I can't remember anything. Please tell me I didn't throw up on anyone?"

I needed to do something with my hands, make a fist, hit something, I don't know. But I couldn't. Just keeping them from shaking was taking everything I had. No idea what my face was doing, but I guess Hazel saw something there. Something I couldn't quite hide.

"Oh, wait, oh no, I'm in your… did we? I-I-I'm sorry," she stammered, like she was on the verge of tears, "No, wait, not sorry sorry, not if it was with you. It's just… I don't remember and—"

"We went to the graveyard!" I blurted out, ashamed that I couldn't keep from shouting. "The one I told you guys about. We went there last night, the three of us, and—"

My voice hitched.

Hazel's face had shifted away from some stricken expression I couldn't begin to parse to one of blank confusion. But that confusion was starting to pull inwards.

"The graveyard, right… the trailhead was just off High Street, not far from campus," she trailed off, the looked into my eyes urgently, "that was last night? But it feels like so long ago!"

"What does?"

"The attack! Those guys tried to jump us… right?"

"Hazel," it was so hard to keep my voice even, "can you tell me what you remember?"

"When we got to the graveyard, we all went in together and started looking around. But then some creepy guy in rags jumped out from behind one of the bigger headstones and started attacking Felix." 

I couldn’t open my mouth.

“You ran off,” she said, looking back at me. A faint expression of pain ghosted across her features. “I think you were trying to help him, but when you did one of them grabbed me. I freaked out, must have gotten away somehow, and just started running. Don’t know which way. I guess I—I don’t know—ran into something, hit my head, because I don’t really remember anything after that.”

My eyes couldn’t focus. I wanted to scream, but my throat wouldn’t work. This was all wrong, and I had no idea what to do. This wasn’t a problem I’d ever faced before. I knew exactly two people who might be able to help, but both of them had vanished with the morning light. 

I was silent as the thing that wasn't Hazel climbed out of my bed. 

The eyes had been what gave it away, but it was really subtle. I probably would have missed it without Jarvis' warning. It wasn't like her eyes had changed color or had a weird-shaped pupil or anything: they were still Hazel's eyes. But something fundamental about the expression in them was just wrong. 

Inhuman. 

And once I saw it, I couldn't unsee it. Whatever was looking at me from behind her eyes scared the hell out of me. And I had no idea what to do about it. Should I try to keep it here? Do I pretend I don't notice and let it go? I can't hurt her, but I also couldn't let this thing run around with Hazel's body unsupervised. Maybe I could stall it until Felix got back?

It started to move past me towards the door, and I must have flinched because it twisted Hazel's face into a coy smile.

"You've got a terrible poker face, you know that?" 

Well, that works too. 

"And you're a terrible actor," I replied, stepping past my friend's body to plant myself squarely between it and the exit. "You've got her all wrong, you know."

It actually frowned at that. 

"Aww, really," it purred, "you didn't like my portrayal of sweet little Hazel?"

"There wasn't enough swearing."

"Huh, well you live and you learn," it said, rolling her eyes in a way no human would even attempt. 

"Who, no, what are you?" I demanded, crossing my arms and hoping I looked more intimidating than I felt. 

"Yeah, no, half-credit," it answered, dismissively. "I'm me, the same way you're you. And you're a smart girl. You know what I am, at least in broad strokes. And before you say it, don't bother asking what I want, I've already got it. And no, there is nothing you can do about it." 

"You want to bet on that?" I said, bearing down on it. 

I probably should have been uncomfortable trying to intimidate what looked like Hazel, but whatever it was doing with her face was making her cute features look significantly more punchable.

"Ohh, scary. Yes, I do. Let me spell it out for you. You can't hurt me without hurting your friend, and you care too much about her to do that." 

"Why should I listen to anything you say? For all I know you're walking around in her corpse right now." I hadn't actually been considering that possibility until I said it, but as soon as the idea was out there it sent a chill down my spine. Every muscle in my body tensed, and my voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "Why shouldn't I make you regret that?"

"Oh, please," it scoffed, unfazed, "I'm good, but not that good. Trust me, your friend is still very much present up here." Hazel's hand tapped her head. "This body won't work without her. So don't do something you'll regret."

It walked around me, patting my shoulder as it went. I glared at it, but couldn't move my arms. It was right, I couldn't risk that it was telling the truth. And I couldn't really restrain it either. There were far too many interesting ways Hazel could get hurt if this thing fought back. I couldn't do anything but stare daggers at it as it put Hazel's hand on the doorknob. 

"Well, now that we understand each other–"

It didn't get a chance to finish that thought. As it was speaking, Hazel's other hand raised up and pressed flat against the side of her head. Then slammed it against the solid wood door with a sudden, loud thunk. 

It crumpled to the ground, screaming. And screaming. And screaming some more. I honestly didn't think Hazel's lungs could hold that much air. Then all at once it cut off. The silence echoed for a moment before Hazel sat up, leaning heavily against the wall. 

Then she opened her eyes.

"I told you to wait your turn, you stupid bitch," Hazel said to nobody. She started prodding the bump on the side of her head gingerly, then winced. "Ah, fuck, that hurts. I told you we'd work something out, you impatient prick, but noooo. You had to jump the gun. Well, enjoy the concussion, asshole!" 

The anger flared, then burned out quickly as she sagged. With a sigh, she slumped back, no longer really holding herself up. She closed her eyes for a moment, and I was terrified that she wouldn't be the one who opened them again. But when the girl on the floor opened her eyes to look at me, it was just Hazel. Full of warm relief and barely concealed pain.

"Hey Ames," she whispered, "got anything for a headache?"

 

—

 

There was so much to do, so much I still didn't understand. But the mundane reality of life, offended by our recent inattention, found ways of making itself unavoidable now. We showered, we ate, we attended lectures and did homework. Felix returned from the hospital with a new sling, some painkillers and a physical therapy schedule. Of course we filled him in on what happened, but other than that, Hazel was reluctant to talk about her "guest", as she called it. 

Over the course of the next few weeks, we teased out bits of context about her guest, all the while carefully toeing the line between 'concerned interest' and 'being insensitive asshats'. Apparently, Hazel's guest wasn't human, but it wasn't like the ghosts either. It was fully sapient, for starters. But also it drew other distinctions between itself and them that Hazel never really understood well enough to explain. As best she was able to convey, it was some kind of magical equivalent of a filter-feeder: Something that exists passively near a source of sustenance. And apparently it was in trouble. 

Hazel's memories of that night actually did turn out to be somewhat jumbled, so we aren't exactly sure what happened. But Hazel remembered following some kind of sound, something pretty, into a dark maze. Things got really fuzzy after that I guess, because listening to her try and recount the memories felt like listening to someone's incoherent dreams. All we could gather is that it tried to use her somehow, but got hurt instead. It was terrified of something, not sure what, but Hazel took pity on it and offered her help voluntarily. They were working out terms of some kind when everything fell apart. The next thing she knew, she was waking up in my room, listening to herself argue with me. 

I thought maybe that would be it. Hazel picked up a magic tapeworm, but she was back in control. So no harm no foul, right? And I guess it was endangered or something, so I could tell myself she did a good thing and feel better about the whole situation.

But of course I was wrong.

Roughly a week later, her ungrateful guest decided to try its luck again. We were in the library when I saw her eyes change. Like melting wax, the Hazel I knew dissolved into a puddle of something utterly alien. 

Although this time she was ready for it. 

Before it had a chance to say a word, she was kicking her leg out towards the corner of the heavy oak desk we were sitting at. Her soft Uggs did nothing to shield her toes from the impact, and it's resulting screaming got us kicked out of the library, but overall a better result than the first time, I guess? 

She explained her theory later, after the school nurse had convinced himself that her toes weren't broken. Basically, it can't handle pain. Whatever her guest was before, having a corporeal body was not usual for it. Sensation, in general, is not something it has any tolerance for. Meanwhile, us humans get used to feeling stuff all the time. 

"It's called habituation," she explained, "it's one of the ways people learn to tune out unnecessary stimuli. And I've had decades to habituate to having a body, right? But my guest hasn't. It's like an infant, everything is overwhelming. Sudden pain even more so."

"I dunno, it didn't seem to be bothered by anything else before the concussion," I mused.

"Yeah, I'm not completely sure, maybe there's more to it. In any event, we know pain knocks it out of control, and I can handle pain better than it can," she replied.

And so that became our pattern. In between slices of normal college life, my friend needed to resort to self-harm in order to keep from being possessed. But this wasn't sustainable, no matter how much Hazel insisted that she had it under control. Sooner or later, something would give. And imagining what that might look like made me sick to my stomach. 

No, I needed to fix this. But I'd need the help of an expert, and no matter how hard I'd try to think of alternatives, there was only one person who could possibly help.

 

—

 

"I found her."

There was no way it was this easy. Coincidences like this shouldn't be possible. Yet evidence to the contrary gazed balefully back at me from my laptop screen. There she was, right there in the student directory. 

Alexis Black (20)

Of course I hadn't been able to find Hannah. Assuming she wasn't a figment of my bizarre imagination, I literally knew nothing about her. I had a first name that was so generic it was shared by thousands of other people, and a vague physical description that included no unique identifying features. That was before considering that the name might be fake and it was so dark I probably didn't get a very good look at her in the first place. 

I mean, that didn't stop me from spending the better part of the last few weeks searching. But it was exactly as pointless as I had feared it would be. There was no sign of the mysterious witch, at least not anywhere I had access to.

But Hannah wasn't the only witch we met that night, and the other one had made a point of introducing herself with her full name. But I still hadn't expected her to be a student here. You don't really expect the heir to some kind of magical lordship to be attending undergrad at a small liberal arts college on the east coast. Yet there she was, along with a school email and campus mailbox. 

The letter was written out on a black piece of printer paper and left in her campus postbox. I sent it as an email too, but I suspected she would be more likely to respond to the physical letter than an online message. She just seemed pretentious like that. Maybe I was being unfair, but I also wasn't about to limit our options. 

Hazel had found something approximating an equilibrium, but her guest was continuing its antics, and they didn’t seem capable of reaching a compromise. Internal communication didn’t seem possible anymore, so the only way to negotiate would be to let it take over for long enough to speak. And I wasn’t going to let her take that kind of risk. So, instead I was pinning my hopes on a letter to a magical undergrad a couple of years ahead of me. 

 

—

 

It took three days for Lexi to respond, which felt kind of rude honestly. The form of her response was a letter slipped under my dorm room door in the middle of the night. Jarvis’ work, I assume. There wasn’t really any meat to it, just an overly formal way to say ‘meet me in the literature building at 2’ but I’ll take what I can get. 

The literature building was part of a structure more commonly known as 'the long walk', and was something of the face of campus. Virtually walling off one side of a large field was a long building stretching halfway across campus like a lost castle wall. Well, it looked continuous, but really it was a bunch of separate buildings tied together with a constant facade. Most were classrooms and professor's offices, though one section was a small dorm for some reason. And the part Lexi had indicated was at the far end. The top floor was practically deserted, no lit classes that day, so it was easy enough to spot the goth-loli princess and her unsettling stickbug of a butler. 

Lexi and Jarvis were settled into the classroom  by the time I arrived. She was seated regally at the head of a long table with Jarvis behind her right shoulder, exactly like I remember. As a concession to normalcy, Lexi had ditched the fancy regalia for a more modern outfit, though it didn't do anything to tone down her whole 'spoiled aristocrat' thing. Just a white blouse, black A-line skirt, and tall boots. But somehow I knew the price tag for any one of those items would probably give me an aneurysm. 

And Jarvis was exactly like I remember, down to the unsettlingly shiny shoes. It was holding her coat—something long, fancy, and fur-lined—folded over its arms. Which made it hard to tell if it was also folding its arms behind its back at the same time. 

“Good, you’re punctual,” she said, as I eased into the room. 

"Nice to see you too, Lexi," I deadpanned. It didn't seem like she had any intention of getting up, so I went ahead and sat down in the nearest chair. More sincerely, I added, "you too, Jarvis. How's it going?"

The tall, not-butler gave me a polite nod in acknowledgement. Lexi, however, ignored me and carried on. In a voice that sounded like it had been rehearsed, she intoned, “Now I’m sure you’re wondering why I summoned you—”

“Huh?” I blinked, “I asked for your help, what are you talking about?”

“You did?” Now she was blinking in confusion.

“I sent you a letter. And an email. Didn’t you read it?”

Before she could respond, Jarvis had produced my printer paper letter and presented it to Lexi.

“Oh. Um, of course,” she lied, trying to regain her balance, “I suppose this works out for both of us then. How fortuitous.” She took a moment to scan the letter, but I doubt she actually read it. “Anyway, the reason I summoned you is because an opportunity has arisen for you to repay your debt to me.”

“Debt?" I asked, before remembering the exact words I had used that night. The phrase I owe you one glowered at me from the memory. “Wait a minute, you’re taking that literally? It’s a figure of speech!”

“Nevertheless, I performed a service for you and yours, and now I am asking you to do the same for me,” she answered calmly, “Worry not, it is a simple task that I have no doubt you are fully capable of accomplishing.”

It felt like the room was going to start spinning. “You performed a…” I repeated, trying to wrap my head around her words, “no, hang on. You did something to Hazel—”

“I saved her, yes,” she said, cutting me off.

“You didn’t save her,” I tried to say before getting cut off again.

“Of course I did. She was beset by a dreadful apparition, which I banished.”

"Hazel's possessed!" I blurted out, no longer trying to control myself. "Whatever you did, it didn't work. Not completely. She's still got something in her. If it hadn't been for Jarvis' warning, I don't think—"

"Jarvis' what?" Lexi cut over me again, but now she was angling her dagger-like stare at her companion rather than me. "What the hell is she talking about?"

"Apologies, mistress." Jarvis' spoke with the snapping of dry twigs, precise and unhurried. "Miss Hazel was uniquely vulnerable at the time, so I took the liberty of issuing Miss Amy a warning."

"If you knew something, then why…"

"I did not know. It was simply a possibility," it answered like a cool breeze through leaves.

"Jarvis, if that thing survived—"

"It did not, mistress. Rest assured, you did an excellent job, as always." 

The compliment seemed to mollify her somewhat, but Lexi still looked concerned. She made a surprisingly cute pout and with her soft hand motioned for it to continue. 

"In cases such as this, it isn't uncommon for additional entities to gather around the primary target. If they can provide some benefit, it may leave them alone."

"It had parasites?" Lexi surmised. She didn’t look happy about the thought.

"Just so, mistress." 

"And you noticed them?" She looked like she wanted to start shouting, but ran out of steam before she even got going. Instead she sighed back into the chair. "How many?"

"Oh, I've no idea, mistress," Jarvis answered promptly. Lexi glared at this, and it raised its hands placatingly. Somehow without dropping her coat. "Most were not worthy of the attention: bottom feeders. Destroyed or scattered along with the host."

"Most?" Lexi and I repeated the word in tandem. Though she with an accusatory tone and I with something like strangled hope.

"Yes, there was one of note. A Lure. It's call ceased shortly before we arrived."

Lexi's expression soured at that, but I was starting to fall behind the discussion.  

"I'm sorry, what's—" 

"Like a siren," she didn't wait for me to finish the question. "They draw in extra prey and eat the scraps."

"Right. And you think that is what possessed Hazel?" I looked from Lexi to Jarvis. She just shrugged, but Jarvis shifted on its feet. Almost like it was embarrassed.

"A leap of conjecture, I'm afraid. There was no way to be certain, but the timing could fit."

"Well, now you do know. So, can you help her? Hazel said the thing was scared, but now it's trying to possess her. You know what this thing is, how it works, so you can get rid of it. Right?" But my plea fell on a pair of carefully neutral, if slightly awkward expressions. "Please? You're a witch, right? Wave your wand around, do a ritual—I don't know—but get this 'lure' out of my friend!"

At the word 'witch' Lexi recoiled like I'd slapped her. In a split second I watched an indignant anger flare up and burn down to smoldering embers behind her eyes. 

"Sorceress," the word came out in a tight, strangled growl. "I. Am. A. Sorceress!" She punctuated each word with a fist on the table, and then was on her feet, shouting. 

I was up and out of my chair too then, an instinctive step already taken towards the door. For all her frustrated bluster, I hadn't seen Lexi truly mad yet. Not like this. Rage curdled her soft features into an unrecognizable mask of fury. She was taller than me, but not by much. Not by enough to explain how her presence suddenly seemed to fill the room. Like she was a giant, reaching down through the forest canopy to crush a particularly offensive insect.

"Mistress Alexis." Like a snapped twig, Jarvis' voice broke the tension. It wasn't a shout, or even very loud, but the admonishment in those two words was unmistakable. And for the first time since I'd met the pair, it was looking directly at Lexi. 

She seemed to wilt under that late autumn gaze. 

The fight went out of her then, replaced by some deep aching hurt that washed over her face and shoulders as she slumped back into the chair. She looked pathetic. A moment ago, she had terrified me. I had wanted to run screaming from the building. But now… I was overcome with the desire to wrap her in a hug and stroke her back until she felt better. And the whiplash from the rapid emotional change was doing strange things to my heart.

As I fought to get my own panicked breathing under control, I almost missed that Jarvis was speaking again. 

"Miss Amy, you have our sympathies for the misfortune that has befallen you and Miss Hazel. But I'm afraid mistress Alexis won't be able to help you in this matter."

"But why?" The question was hardly more than a whisper. 

"It is a matter of… aptitude." Lexi didn't look up as Jarvis tried to tiptoe around something delicate and fragile. "What you would require is not something my mistress can provide."

"But, you can use magic?" I felt like a broken record, but something wasn't clicking. Hannah had made impossibilities out of time and trash and care. And I didn't see it, but whatever Lexi had done behind that awful door had felt powerful. No, more than. It felt like potential. Terrible, thunderous potential, like an iceberg about to fracture.

I refused to believe that she couldn't do something here.

"Fine, you're a sorceress. Not a witch or whatever. But it's still magic, right? You can do anything with it. So why won't you help us?"

Lexi scoffed at this. "What do you know of magic?"

"Not much, I guess." I could tell she was rolling her eyes, even though she refused to look at me. "But I know you feel powerful."

She shook her head. "You don't get it."

"So explain it!" I shouted back, frustration a molten knot in my chest.

"All right!" With a deft flick of her wrist, a wand was suddenly in her hand. It was fairly simple, really. A thin, smooth curl of polished, dark wood. It might have been engraved near the base, but the rest was unblemished. Simple and elegant and beautiful. Poised with intent in her delicate, scholarly fingers.

She flicked the wand back and forth in quick, precise movements. It was hard to follow. Maybe the tip was tracing some complex design in the air. Or maybe it was the motion itself that mattered, random and chaotic. Any shape that resulted would suffice. Whatever the case, it felt important, somehow. As if the motion condensed significance from the air.

"Caligavit lumina!" Lexi's voice sounded far away as she spoke those words. A far-off animal cry echoing through a still forest.

The hair on my arms stood on end, and my chest grew tight in panic as a familiar feeling settled over the classroom. Familiar, but not identical; it wasn't quite the same as before. It wasn't sticky or oily, and it didn't feel malicious. Instead, it smelled like old woodlands: crisp and mossy and earthy. The smell of decomposing leaves under tall trees after the rain. 

And then the lights went out. 

Not completely though. They flickered and dimmed for a moment, like campus got hit by a brown-out. Then they returned to full strength, like nothing had happened. My heart was in my throat. I stared at Lexi, bug-eyed, and gave her my best 'what the fuck' expression. 

With practiced ease she returned the wand to some secret place up her sleeve, then finally met my eyes. 

"Yes, magic is capable of anything. But that doesn't mean its practitioners are. We are bound by limitations at every turn, and it is only by following our aptitude that we may achieve anything of note." Lexi sounded like she was reciting from something, she sounded so stiff. But then she sighed, and the tension went out of her. "Jarvis is right, the problem is me. What I can do, it's too specific. And if I try to work outside of it… well, you saw just now. A fantastic waste of power for useless results." 

She must have seen something in my eyes then. Maybe she finally realized how far out of my depth I really was, because then she blinked and whispered, "Oh no. You really don't understand, do you?"

I hadn't known Lexi long. I thought I was getting to know her various expressions, but I was once again reminded of how little I knew this person. Because the expression she made then was something I couldn't have possibly imagined on her face before. 

It was heartbreak and anguish. The expression you make when you come across something small and furry with a hurt leg, when the realization finally settles in that it won't be okay.  I could have imagined it, but I thought her eyes were starting to gloss over with the start of tears.

"Lexi?"

"I thought she had at least given you the basics," her voice was soft and heavy with some emotion I couldn't place. I think she was speaking more to herself than to me. "Or maybe that you had come about it on your own, like she had. I thought that was why you were together. But if you don't even… I can't…"

"You can't what?"

"I cannot… oh, dear. Look, Amanda, I'll try to explain, but it won't be a full answer. It can't be. But please, just take this partial answer and look no further." She was pleading genuinely with me, and I had no idea why. "Magic is, simply put, human willpower channeled and applied directly to the world around us in its most pure, undiluted form. It requires discipline, perseverance, and a very… specific state of mind to even begin. But, because of how personal it is, every practitioner of magic finds that they have strengths and weaknesses. Some of these may be acquired with time, some may be overcome with effort, but most are strict limitations imposed by the very shape of your soul. That is why I cannot help. Not because it is impossible, but because my limitations are many and my few strengths cannot be bent into a shape that would be useful to you here. Trying would only make things worse… and please just trust me when I say that things can always be so much worse."

She was looking at me with an almost desperate, pleading expression. Like she was willing me to understand something she couldn't say clearly. But I just wasn't getting it. Her answer just raised so many more questions. 

Still, I knew when I'd hit a dead end. And besides, clearly every word on the subject was costing her something I wasn't sure she could afford. Her expression made my heart ache, and I was willing to feign understanding if it made her stop.

But I wasn't so kind as to just drop it.

"Alright, fine, I get it. You can't help, understood. But I can't do nothing," I was trying my best to sound reassuring, but she still flinched at that. "If you can't help us… do you know someone who can?"

I think the question caught her off guard. Not sure what she was expecting me to ask, but she looked like someone who had been bracing for a knockout blow, only to get a kiss instead. 

"Ah, well, um… yes actually. There is a local I am aware of who is something of an expert in this field," the usual Lexi confidence was building back up with every word. "In fact, the request I had originally called you here to discuss involves delivering a message to this individual."

"In that case, I accept."

 

—

 

"What do you mean, the library is inaccessible?" Hazel asked indignantly.

"I don't know, that's just what she said."

"This, 'witch' friend of yours?"

"She's not a witch, exactly," I answered carefully. "I guess the term is sorceress?"

We made our way across campus in the fading afternoon light, buffeted by a cold November wind. Most of the campus dorms were only a few stories tall, but the sheer brick facade and the seemingly random clumps of buildings made for plenty of artificial wind tunnels to channel the cold our way.

"But seriously, isn't it odd?" I asked from the bottom of my winter coat, "I haven't been to the library in two days!"

"That's odd?" Hazel deadpanned, "I haven't been there in a week." 

"You don't use the library?"

"I'm a CS major, we have our own lab," she explained while trying to adjust her scarf again. "Normally, I only go to the library if you or Felix are there."

This part of campus was derisively called "the urban jungle", and the name was meant quite literally. Poorly thought-out 'temporary' structures had been thrown up in the 60's, then expanded or renovated. Anything but replaced. The dense growth of buildings overlapped brickwork and concrete, with structures growing together over time, connected by odd hallways and overhead bridges. Narrow footpaths carved out from around the concrete roots.

"Okay, sure. But I hadn't even realized I hadn't been there in two days. Not until she pointed it out," I insisted, feeling more on edge. "That's weird, right?"

"Gonna be honest, my sense of weird has been a little skewed recently," Hazel grumbled as we made our way up another gray staircase. "But if you say so."

We stopped at the top, and looked around. Another small courtyard surrounded by buildings. I could feel Hazel's mounting frustration. My own emotions weren't much better before the world listed sideways with a sudden realization. 

I didn't know where we were.

Everyone said the urban jungle was a maze, but that wasn't meant like this. Recognizing which non-descript brick box was which was a chore, sure, but it wasn't like you couldn't leave. There just wasn't enough uninspired architecture to get that kind of lost in here. 

Yet here we were, surrounded by an impenetrable stone hedge maze. And I didn't recognize anything. It was like everything suddenly snapped into focus. The closer I looked, the more wrong things felt. I hadn't seen any of these buildings before. But that should be impossible, I had walked this way every day for the last few months.

"Hazel," I said, struggling to keep the dread from reaching my voice, "where are we?"

"Uh, the urban jungle? Ya'know, the south side of campus?" She answered slowly, side-eyeing me.

"No, but like, where exactly?" I snapped, gesturing to the unknown structure ahead of us, "what building is that?"

"I don't really remember all the names," she replied carefully, "Amy, are you okay? What's going on?"

This shouldn't be possible. How long had we been walking, anyway? Ten minutes? Twenty? Campus wasn't that big, we should have been on the other side by now! How could we still be in this corner? 

Useless questions flashed through my mind as the thoughts failed to connect. Hazel must have realized something was wrong with me, if not the surroundings. 

"Hey, Ames," she said, voice full of gentle concern. "Let's just forget it for now. Go get something to eat? The stupid library isn't going anywhere."

She didn't bother waiting for a reply. Just grabbed my hand and started walking. And less than a minute later, we were out. Standing on a street that borders campus. 

And I knew exactly where we were.

From there, getting to the library was easy. I just followed Hazel. Apparently she was genuinely intent on getting food, and for the rest of the walk all the buildings stayed put in the layout I remembered. I thought about altering our course to test it; to see if the maze returned when we stepped off the sidewalk. Lexi had been cagey about why exactly the library was inaccessible, but she had said something about 'repelling intentions'. I had trouble believing that whatever nonsense we almost got stuck in actually functioned based on our intended destination, but it also seemed prudent to not push our luck.

That went quite badly last time.

Besides, I knew the library was within sight of the dining hall. Hopefully if I could see it, whatever was trying to keep us out wouldn't work as well, no matter the intention. 

Turns out I was only half right. The unreal sense of being lost returned as soon as I shifted our course from the dining hall to the library. Only a small quad with a few trees should have been between the two buildings, but I may as well have been walking into an alien forest. It was a cold, clear day. There shouldn't have been any visibility issues, and the spacing between the trees was so wide they couldn't possibly obstruct our path.

And yet, I found myself staring into the hazy distance of trees and grass, no library in sight. The area was unmistakably the same quad. The same cobblestone walkways branched in unfamiliar paths. The same manicured grass bore the trampled scars of student boots overlapping in alien designs. And far too many of the same thin oak trees stood in their wide aesthetic patterns, fading into the distance. It wasn't as if we had been suddenly transported somewhere else, I knew exactly where we were. All of the other surrounding buildings remained in their expected constellations when I looked for them. Only the library retreated to those hazy, impossible depths.

But it didn't really matter by then. I had already caught the old, oily scent emanating from the library. Different from the graveyard; this time it felt dry and tacky and still, but in an unnervingly poised way. Like a spider: utterly motionless until some poor bug stumbles into the web. The  patient waiting scent of an ambush predator. It was awful, but it cut straight through whatever barrier was screwing with my other senses. 

Easy enough to follow it back to the source. 

After what felt like hours of walking through that hazy addition to campus, we finally stood in front of our destination. The library was a bizarre chimera of different buildings that seemed to have grown almost organically over the years. Renovation after renovation built up and expanded the once small Gothic Revival building into a sprawling, labyrinthine amalgamation of stone and glass. Modern lines and forms clashed with the original structure where they had been grafted together. Having subsumed the hillside on which it was originally built, the library somehow managed to have ground floor entrances on three different levels, all of which opened up onto completely different sections of the internal structure. The middle of these was largely considered by students to be the main entrance, although that designation was dubious at best. It also happened to be the entrance closest to the dining hall, and was the first set of doors we came across. 

But as we approached the oversized glass doors, Hazel suddenly made a hard left and started heading for the path that wound around the building. Apparently whatever had been messing with us wasn't going to give up that easily. I grabbed her by the shoulder, and asked where she was going.

"The other door," she said slowly, like I had asked an obvious question, "that one's closed."

But it wasn't. The main entrance was a set of big glass doors that opened onto a vestibule. And that opened onto a study space with the front desk, some tables, and a small cafe. And that space was open 24/7, at least to students. I don't think those doors could even lock. 

By this point I was getting quite fed up with the mind games, so instead of arguing I just took Hazel by the wrist and led her back to the glass doors. She didn’t really protest, just quietly followed my lead like she was sleepwalking. The entrance was indeed not locked, or barred in any way, except for a piece of paper taped to the glass. 

I suppose it had to be magical, or something. It certainly didn't seem to like us looking at it. Gave me a headache trying to read the handwritten text covering the page. Don't know what I was expecting from a magic ward, or whatever this was, but it wasn't this. The page was written in Korean, almost. I mean, it looked a hell of a lot like Hangul, but off somehow. Like it was missing something. The page looked like it could have come from the notebook of someone studying Korean who had fundamentally misunderstood something crucial. Admittedly, I wasn't an expert myself. I could speak Korean well enough for a second-gen kid, but writing was still a bit of a struggle. I still knew enough to recognize that this was deeply wrong though, even if I couldn't articulate why. 

I thought about tearing it down. It was just taped there after all. And since it had been hung at eye level, that made it hard not to look at. And looking at it induced a dull ache behind my eyes that threatened to explode into a full-fledged migraine if I kept it up. But something about the way Hazel's eyes slid off the paper unfocused made me reconsider. And as I reached for the door, a new not-smell hit me in a wave. This one was sharp and caustic, like battery acid. 

Message received: do not touch. 

Careful not to disturb the paper, I slowly pushed open the other door and we made our way into the library. 

Getting here was supposed to be the hard part. Lexi's request was just that I deliver a message. To whom it wasn't clear, but it wasn't supposed to be complicated. A "you'll know them when you see them" kind of thing. And supposedly, this mysterious message recipient just so happened to be a good person to ask about Hazel's situation. No, with the crossing of  threshold, the hard part of this request was supposed to be over with. Because the message itself was just one word. 

Stop.