✨🔮✨

‘Why do I feel like I’m forgetting something?’

That thought is the first thing in my head as I reform outside IronHenge.

I check my possessions, I have all the evidence I gathered of the Necromancer. Hollyhocks boots. The various objects I forgot to get last time.

That should be everything.

It isn’t until I slip back under the barrier that I realize that I left that patrolling sorcerer in suspension this whole time.

OOPS.

There’s a group of sorcerers examining him and my magic. They haven’t noticed me yet. I could probably sneak away and get off without any trouble. That’s what Hollyhock would do.

But I need to get ahead of this. I teleport next to them, they’re all so focused that they still don’t notice me until I clear my throat.

Like the sorcerers that they are, they assume fighting stances and have spells primed.

They’re fast, but I’ve seen Holly move faster.

“Hi, excuse me,” I say as I dispel my suspension on the sorcerer. He groans as his limbs are his to command again. After a brief moment of stretching and rolling his joints, he realizes something.

“I really have to use the bathroom!” He teleports away to relieve himself somewhere.

I’m left with the sorcerers that were investigating his state. While it wouldn’t take a great leap of logic for them to conclude that I was the one who put the suspension spell on him, they wait for him to come back before asking any questions. I kinda want to just walk away from the awkward silence that falls over us.

One of them opens their mouth to say something, but quickly decides against it; making the awkward silence even more uncomfortable.

Thankfully, the sorcerer I suspended comes back, looking much less stressed.

“That’s better,” he announces. “Now, what happened?”

His fellow sorcerers turn to look at each other.

“That’s what we’re here to find out, when you missed your check-in we came to see why. You were frozen in place, we did our preliminary checks, and then she showed up and got rid of it.” One of them explains. By the way they all turn to look at her, I’d guess she’s in charge.

“I’d like to turn myself in, and explain myself,” I put forth. I start forming some ideas on how to state my case without revealing I exposed a non-magic human to magic.

“Oh, uhh…okay. That’ll make things easier,” the leader says. “Datura, why don’t you take her in since she incapacitated you, help you save face.”

He seems surprised by that, but agrees.

“Come along, Hazel.” Again, he seems to know me, but I don’t recognize him. I follow him all the same, readjusting my bag of evidence on my shoulder.

A couple of the sorcerers go with us, including the leader, but the others leave.

Awkward silence re-emerges.

“So, I’m guessing you don’t recognize me?” Datura asks.

“Sorry, but I honestly don’t,” I answer.

“It’s alright, it’s been years since we’ve seen each other and I haven’t done anything that would merit attention,” he replies.

“Still,” I add.

“We grew up in the same circle as abecedarians.”

He wasn’t kidding when he said it’s been years. Abecedarians are children, they’re put into circles at around the age of five or so; when their magic starts manifesting in a significant manner. They learn control and the basics of magic there. Children of the same age are put in circles of ten, usually. My circle consisted of fifteen others. From there they become fledglings and put into a different group based on magical ability.

Datura and I parted ways at that point.

“How do you even remember me?”

“I keep up with everyone in our circle. Either chatting with them or hearing what they’re up to,” he earnestly answers.

“That’s just how Datura is,” the leader chimes in. “His genuine caring of others is enough to make you sick to your stomach.”

“It’s growing on you, Lantana,” he notes, with a chuckle.

“Yeah, like a fungus,” she says back.

On the way there, they engage in casual conversation like they aren’t arresting me. Then again, sorcerers from IronHenge rarely have to do that these days, so maybe they don’t know how to act.

They bring me to the largest structure in our Arcanium: the Hall of the High Council.

Some of the oldest and most respected magicians comprise the body of judgment. The grand size of the building was designed for mass gatherings; important announcements, trials, etc. But in this time of peace, the space is rarely used to such a degree. The council gathers daily, but infrequently has anything of any significance to discuss.

Until today.

The rotunda is a severe, stark space devoid of any decorations. It’s entirely black, giving one the feeling of entering an endless void. I find it quite maddening, and I can’t help but wonder how the High Council members can stand it. The only shifts in the blackness come from the skylight above, the desks that the council members sit at, and the members themselves.

Throughout history, the number of members in the council has varied for numerous reasons. Sometimes there were fourteen: two for each continent. Nine, three for each Arcanium in existence.

Now, there are only three members of the High Council. I don’t know if there is a significant reason or an arbitrary one for this.

As we approach, the members take notice of us and sit more upright, shifting into a more professional mood.

I should probably be more nervous, after all, I broke one of our oldest rules, and I’m not entirely sure what the consequences of that are. But I take solace in the fact that this was my decision. Whatever Mentor Acacia has planned for me has to be thwarted by this.

Maybe.

There’s also the distinct possibility that something horrible will happen to me. Perhaps turning myself in wasn't the best idea. Facing the consequences of breaking laws is something Hollyhock would never do, and her life is relatively good.

Wait, I have to focus.

This is my decision, this is the path I chose.

“Why have you brought Hazel before us?” The member on the left asks. He’s an old, stout man and possesses an air that lets you know he’s seen it all. He’s one of the oldest magicians alive; a feat made more impressive when the many magical battles he’s been a part of are taken into account.

Sago is nearing 280 years old if I remember correctly. Despite his almost triple-century age, he appears as a man entering his seventies.

Time hasn’t dulled his mind or features. His hair is cut short out of years of habit and is vibrant red. He’s dressed in a simple brown robe with green accents.

Sago has set many high standards of what it means to be a sorcerer. He’s forgotten more about combat magic than others have learned in their entire lives.

With so much of his life being consumed by war, I wonder how he feels being in an era of peace.

It’s no surprise I know him, but why does he know my name?

“Hazel had incapacitated Datura here while he was on patrol,” Lantana answers.

“I did more than that, and I’m more than happy to cooperate and tell my side of things. If the High Council will hear me out,” I speak up. While, ultimately, what happens from here is their decision; I need to keep as much control of the situation as possible. The High Council look at each other and have a quick, quiet conversation.

The member in the middle waves a hand, and chairs appear behind each of us.

“Let’s hear it,” the member in the middle says.

Valerian is a gaunt slip of a woman, with skin so thin that you can see her veins all the time. Though her body seems like it might fade away at any moment, her eyes have the feeling of omnipresence; as if she can see anything. Her gaze has its own gravity, and an immense one at that. Just her staring at you is enough to keep you in place.

I sit in the chair provided for me. My arresting sorcerers also sit, curious about what more I could say about this. As I tell my, heavily edited, tale of departure from IronHenge my mind wanders to Hollyhock. I wonder what she’s doing right now.

🌿💀🌿

“Do you think I should dye my hair purple?” I ask Larkspur.

“Fuck no,” they reply.

✨🔮✨

She’s probably doing something important. I can’t believe how smitten I am, my thoughts drift to her so often. I refocus, telling the story of coming across the Necromancer and defeating them. They don’t need to know all the details about how long I was out there. If they don’t already know how long I was gone, I see no reason to inform them. Once I finish, the High Council members start to talk amongst themselves.

I noticed while I was telling the story that the third member, Gladiolus, kept looking around. Her attention seems to drift quickly from things. Even now, as the other members whisper to her, she glances off to the side time and again.

She has a much different style from everyone in this Arcanium. Before I left, I’d’ve called it strange. Now that I have, I’d call it…contemporary, or even futuristic. Her whole outfit was made by her. A cropped jacket with lots of buckles and zippers that swirls with a myriad of colors, and almost hurts to look at. Her hair is a short, wavy, bob with each strand of her hair a different color, ranging from purple to red to orange to yellow. It complements her dark skin well. Her light pink eyes flit about the room. But her fashion sense isn’t the reason why she has a seat on the High Council.

Her particular claim to fame is her groundbreaking research and practical work on dimensional magic. Other dimensions have been theorized for some time, she proved it with tangible evidence. As her eyes flit about, I can’t help but wonder if she can see something we can’t.

The council looks over the photos I provided with great detail. Magical samples are everyday items to them, but the pieces of glossy paper they hold are unique in our world.

“Might I ask,” Valerian holds up a photo, “how you got these pictures?”

“Cameras are very easy to get in the human world.” It feels weird, calling it the ‘human’ world, as if we’re different species just because we have magic. “The ‘mall’ had plenty of them,” I explain. It’s not, not true, but I rather not push my luck by flat-out lying. Because I voluntarily surrendered, they haven’t brought in a Seer to check me. Still, I’ll meander on the border of truth and fiction for now.

The High Council looks very worried. Maybe it’s because something like this happened without them knowing?

I can use that.

“The samples you provided, you gathered them right after the fight?” Sago asks.

“No, after the fight I left and came back here. But some time passed, and I felt their magic again. That’s when I left, incapacitating Datura who was on patrol at the time.” At that, he rubs the back of his head. “I went back to the human city to see what caused it.”

“And what was the cause?” Gladiolus inquiries.

“The Necromancer had primed soul transference on a delay to enter another body.”

Everyone, besides Datura, flinch at hearing that. Datura looks around at everyone, not knowing what the big deal is.

I recount the conversation, or deathbed confession, to everyone. They’re still aghast at the soul transference part. Valerian looks at the necklace I took. The cameo of the laughing child looks back at her.

“While we can’t deny the fact that this magic is from someone else, and the samples you’ve provided match what we understand about necromancy, you’ve put us at a disadvantage where we have to take you at your word,” Valerian states. “We have no way of knowing if these events happened, as you said. An investigation should be conducted to confirm your report.”

“The structure where the Necromancer housed their army was old, our fight further destabilized it. The building has since collapsed.”

Once again, Hollyhock helped me.

“How convenient.”

“You aren’t making a strong case for yourself, Hazel,” Gladiolus asserts.

“I didn’t have to surrender and tell you all this. I could’ve snuck out again and come back, with no one the wiser of the tragedy I averted,” I point out.

“Now, that brings us to more important questions,” Sago takes the reins of the interrogation. “Why did you leave?”

I’ve asked myself that question many times.

I have an answer to it.

“I want to do more for this world.” There is a pause after I say that. If the High Council and the sorcerers want me to say more, I will. “I know I can do more. I’m grateful for everything I’ve learned under Mentor Acacia. But I want to do more than solve a problem after the fact. I have to be out there.”

“Hmm, you would forego your apprenticeship with Acacia? Hundreds of witches in training would kill for your position.” Valerian chimes in.

“And any one of them would be lucky to have her. But I want more from my life. And this situation should be proof that something more is needed.”

I turn to look at Lantana.

“I don’t mean to besmirch you and your sorcerers, but I think this was a sign, that the way we’ve been doing things isn’t effective. This could be the start of a new wave of magical threats.”

She doesn’t respond, but Sago does,

“And what makes you think this wasn’t an isolated incident?”

“A magician was living in a human city for decades, unnoticed, amassing an undead army. If one person could go such lengths, it’s not inconceivable to think this could happen again or isn’t happening right now.”

“That’s speculation in its purest form,” Valerian interjects. “You don’t have any evidence to support that.”

“As the human world advances, we maintain our status quo. If we don’t change and the threats to peace do, we’ll be helpless against them. The non-magic world has had a meteoric rise in their technology. They can see more and share news faster than ever. Only one of them has to capture a magical event on a phone or camera to spread it around the world. And I think that we all know what’ll happen next.”

I don’t need to loom the threat of conflict over their heads. It’s largely accepted in the magical world that if non-magic people learn about us, war will break out, as it has several times in the past.

“So, what do you propose, Hazel?” Gladiolus asks. She seems the most receptive to me right now.

“We need…” I think of a word Hollyhock would use, “scouts. Sorcerers out in the world, in touch with it. Completely sealing ourselves off will leave us blind to what will happen.”

“I do see the logic in that,” Lantana speaks up. “It wouldn’t hurt to have some people in known problematic areas. If they hear of something, we could respond faster, getting them on it. We’d have more control of the situation, more info, and a better look into the human world at large.”

“The Arcaniums agreed not to interfere with the human world, we only send out sorcerers to deal with magical threats as they arise,” Valerian reminds us.

“I propose the sorcerers assume normal lives,” I counter. “We don’t send them out on patrol in those uniforms; they live like regular people and just keep an eye on things.”

“We could rotate them!” Datura adds. Everyone looks at him, as this is the first time he’s spoken at this point. He doesn’t seem to mind the stares. “If things are calm in their area, they move to another spot. And we should have someone around after we deal with something to make sure it stays calm.”

That’s a fairly good idea.

“It could even be a deterrent,” Sago remarks. His fellow council members turn to him. “If there are more magicians out there, threatening peace; them knowing there are sorcerers around, could mitigate their schemes.”

“Or force them to advance their plans, putting those sorcerers in danger,” Valerian counters.

“The very nature of the role is dangerous,” Gladiolus rebuffs. “They didn’t become sorcerers because they thought it was safe.” Valerian shoots her a look.

“We could try it on a very small scale,” Lantana puts forth, hoping to calm the growing tension. “Regular checks-in. Areas with good line of Leyline sight. We can have witches, enchanters, and wizards, on retainer for any situation that arises.” The more she talks about it, the more she seems to like it. She nods for a bit. “It’s doable.”

Sago, war-hardened, nods along with her assessment. It’s clear he values the martial aspect of this.

“Regular observations of the human world and their technology could advance our magicks,” Gladiolus theorizes.

“How?” Valerian, despite her initial skepticism, is intrigued.

“We came up with the idea for aura receptors during the Vietnam War, remember? Magic and technology have always been intertwined. Sometimes more lax in their correlation, but still together.” Gladiolus concludes. Valerian, begrudgingly, agrees.

“Seems like you’ve got a real humdinger of an idea here,” Sago notes. I don’t know what a humdinger is, but whatever. “But I have another question. How did you leave?”

I knew they’d ask, but I hoped they wouldn’t.

What should I say here? Should I tell the truth? That’ll make me seem more cooperative, and what I’ll ask next more reasonable. But if they refuse, I’ll never see Hollyhock again. If I withhold my answer, they might not oblige my request, but I’ll still have a way out.

No, they’ll definitely keep a closer eye on me in that case. I don’t see a way out of this with my secret trick and getting what I need.

I tell them exactly how I outsmarted the barrier. In my peripheral vision, I see Lantana has produced a notebook and is jotting down what I’m saying.

“Thank you for being so forthcoming,” Valerian addresses. “You’ve given us much to think about. While you did leave the Arcanium without permission, you did avert an attack on us.”

“Pending proper examining of your evidence, that is,” Gladiolus interjects.

“Right,” Valerian presses on. “I’ll say you broke even with this. We won’t punish you, but we aren’t exactly thrilled by this. Do you have anything to say on your behalf?”

“I have a favor to ask.”

Everyone has a very different reaction of surprise to that.

“You got gumption, asking for a favor after all this!” Sago says with a smile. “I like your moxie!”

“Anyone with audacity is enough to gas you up,” Valerian notes.

“Hazel here seems to have considerable rizz.” Gladiolus asserts.

I don’t really understand what they’re talking about, so I press on.

“I’d like to join the sorcerers in this new initiative. I want to try and join them once more.”

“You not only propose that the sorcerers restructure how they operate, but now you want to join them?” Gladiolus inquiries.

“Well…” I think of what Hollyhock would say here. “What kinda girl would I be if I didn’t believe in my own idea?”

They all nod in satisfaction, pleased with that.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“This proposed vicissitude needs people both eager to learn about the non-magic world and unafraid of the challenges that presents. I’m both.”

The High Council members look at one another. An unspoken conversation transpires between them. Something that makes them nervous.

“Even after what happened at your last attempt?” Sago brings up.

Why does he know about that?

They all seem to know about it.

The scar on my back surges in pain at the memory. Before my tutelage with Mentor Acacia, I tried out for the sorcerers. I had passed all the written and mental exams with flying colors, but a sorcerer needs more than just knowledge. The practical exams require competent displays of combat magic. I passed those with ease as well. The final test is a duel between candidates.

Simple as it gets, defeat your opponent with nonlethal magic. Since the point is just not to directly and/or immediately kill your fellow candidate, the duels can be pretty brutal. Witches and witches in training are always on standby. I remember Mentor Acacia being there. It’s very common for master witches to attend these duels, both to show off their skills and see if there are any promising witches in training.

My opponent, I think his name was Dubbeltjie, was very nervous. I remember his yellow aura wavering as we both stepped out into the dueling ring. I was calm as could be, the difference in our power was obvious. The match-ups are picked at random, bad luck for him. I was impatient to become a sorcerer, but I knew that defeating him quickly with one move wouldn’t demonstrate my full combat capabilities.

It was agonizing getting him to attack me so that I could block or deflect his magic. Frustrated, I dropped my defensive magic and overpowered him with brute force. He fell over, crashing into the ground.

I was positive that I rendered him unconscious, I watched him for a few seconds before I turned away. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that the judges would see my ability and usher me into the sorcerers.

That’s when I heard it. I was too slow to react. Before I felt the impact, I saw my hair move over my shoulders, smelled the heat, and watched my shadow shrink away.

A fireball rammed into my back. The air was knocked out of my chest as I fell over onto my face. The pain of that fall was instantly drowned out by the searing heat on my spine. I screamed in pain as blisters formed on my skin. I curled into a ball on my knees, clawing at my back at the impact site.

I blacked out from the pain, lost the duel, won a large scar, and questioned my worth.

A fireball to the back. I considered it a cheap trick, but all is fair in magical combat.

I could’ve healed the scar but kept it as a reminder. Another of my big failures in life.

But I can’t afford to let that fear hold me back anymore. The only legitimate way for me to see Hollyhock again is to become a sorcerer. The Hazel of the past couldn’t do it, but now I have much more at stake here.

“I won’t make that mistake again, Sago,” I answer his question. The High Council members look at each other again. Maybe they’re using telepathy.

“Well, there aren’t any rules about changing your role,” Valerian states. Roles in Arcaniums aren’t set in stone, but almost always people stick to what works best for them.

“I like switching things up.”

“Be that as it may,” Gladiolus chimes in. “The decision isn’t up to us. Lantana has to make that choice.”

Hearing her name, the sorcerer perks up. She was writing in her book but stands and walks over to me. Looking me up and down, her bright yellow eyes search for something. Her vibrant red hair is in a simple ponytail. A single strand finds its way in front of her heart-shaped face.

I stand to meet her eyes.

She looks at me for a moment or so longer.

“Tomorrow, dawn. We’ll test your mettle, see if you can back up your story.”

With a nod of her head, her sorcerers all stand up and follow her out.

I look to the High Council. From the looks on their faces, they weren’t expecting that.

“You have your answer, good luck, Hazel,” Valerian concludes this audience.

They don’t seem too happy with that…Oh well.

With nothing more to say to them, I bow and exit.

As soon as I get outside, my excitement takes over and I giddily laugh. I let myself have this euphoric moment before I focus up.

“Hard part’s over,” I say aloud. I take this as a sign that fate wants me to get back with Hollyhock.

I’ve decided what I want, and all the universe moves to oblige me. I’d do it regardless, but the lack of obstacles is appreciated.

I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself. Something is bound to go awry if I let my guard down again.

And I can’t allow that, not when I’m so close.

I still have to pass Lantana’s assessment or test or whatever. That and convince her to let me leave.

Shit, I have to deal with Mentor Acacia too.

“Okay, the medium part’s over,” I amend. Need to rest and relax now.

I restored Hollyhock’s memory, and now have a way of legitimately getting to see her. All she has to do is stay safe.

Then again, she’s a Bay Leaf. What can’t she handle?

🌿💀🌿

Oleander City has spiraled into chaos.

As we expected, of course, but it’s one thing to predict it and another to see it unfold.

With the DeadNettles pruned, all their trades are up for grabs. It’s like a cookie jar that’s been left on a table, and the gangs of Oleander City are greedy children. Instead of mean names and shoving, automatic weapons and vehicular manslaughter define this power struggle.

The cops, greedy and corrupt as ever, can’t be bothered to get off their asses without a generous bribe filling their hands. The areas they patrolled for their weekly cuts have felt the full impact of their absence; flourishing without fear of legal execution on a whim.

This, naturally, means we’re busy. Gangs fighting over the scraps, of the gang we killed, hire us to kill their rivals. I’m not sure if that’s irony or not.

Blast texts from Tamara went out to all, sending us across the city. It takes considerable effort to make sure we’re not crossing jobs with each other, awkward doesn’t even begin to describe what it’s like bumping into someone you know while on the job. I get my gear and head out to Ackee Avenue, someone there wants a Heracleum dead in a very specific way.

Oleander City is home to many criminal gangs, the Heracleum are among the most bizarre. They model themselves in the image of Hercules, even though they’re all almost exclusively Hungarian. They launder money through their chain of gyms, aggressively named: Baszd meg! They usually don’t veer outside their vices, but this power shift has everyone a bit hungrier, it seems.

My target, according to the client, doesn’t know how to control his strength or his rage; after some kid rear-ended his ride, he got out and beat him until he was brain-dead. Kid has a cousin in the Amaranths who loves him enough to make sure the man responsible goes swiftly to hell.

As I get closer, I think about how I’ll oblige the request. Stopping at a red light, I check to see if I have any chameleon patches to cover my Bay Leaf tattoo. I can’t find any, so I grab my jacket, ignoring the absurd heat, and head closer to another man’s death.

I find him, and some others, sitting outside one of their gyms. Two are playing a card game, and the other two are just drinking. My target, and three others, are arm wrestling with each other. They’re all musclebound assholes, but the one I’m here for has a tattoo of Hercules slaying the hydra across his arm. It’s actually a really badass piece of art, but I’m not here as an art critic.

I park my car on the other side of the street and shift into an innocent civilian persona. Looking around like I don’t know exactly where I am and what I’m doing. The Heracleum takes notice of me as I stand on the sidewalk, reading the gym title slowly.

“‘Baszd meg!’ What does that mean? I ask them.

“Fuck you!” One of them answers, drawing laughter from everyone else. I fake a flinch at the gibe.

“Sheesh. I’ve been looking for a gym to join. You members here?” If they think I don’t know who they’re a part of, they’ll let their guard down. They all laugh again.

“Can’t you tell from our muscles?” They all get up and start flexing.

I’m gonna throw up.

They only worked on their glamour muscles. A lot of them have disproportionately skinny legs. Swallowing my disgust, I press on.

“Well, I might join, if you can beat me in an arm wrestle.” I taunt. That gets their attention. Again, they laugh. My physique is hidden under my clothes. The ones that were arm wrestling get up and usher me into a plastic chair.

I fight the urge to take off my jacket. My target, clearly a cut above the rest, gets out of the seat to make way for my first opponent.

Years of wrestling with Koki’O have instilled many ways to defeat people stronger than myself.

We grip palms and I spare a glance at my target, who looks at me with disinterest. My focus goes back to my opponent once a countdown begins. Once we start, I hook my wrist towards me for more leverage, and slam him to the table. An uproar comes from the onlookers. I now command the attention of the guys who weren’t watching.

My opponent gets out of the chair opposite me and another takes his spot. This one has a big smile on his face, sure he can beat me. I glance at my target again, who has some interest in me. The countdown begins, and the result is the same, slamming my opponent’s hand down. Everyone cheers harder this time. I fake a smile.

“This is the best y’all got? C’mon, not gonna join the gym at this rate.” I make a show of rolling my right shoulder. My target has a shit-eating grin on his face and he takes the seat.

Finally.

With a smirk of my own, I offer my left hand to him. He runs a hand through his long dark hair and accepts my challenge.

That’s it.

I move my feet into position.

We grip palms and meet eyes. The soon-dead man widens his smile as the countdown starts. My fictitious smile matches his, and I make sure I have space behind me.

We start and lock into a stalemate; our arms tremble as we try to overpower each other. Our hands are sweaty from the heat and effort. Staring into his eyes, I think about how nervous I was when I first started killing. Now I can look into the face of a man I’m about to kill and smile. My right hand is holding onto the table for leverage, but it knows what it has to do.

I use more strength and get him at an angle. Our audience vocalizes their astonishment, surprised to see him this pressed. They all gather around to witness this historic moment.

Good.

I press him further, getting him to a more favorable spot. When I achieve it, my right hand pulls out one of my knives and I stab him through the forearm. Pinning him to the table, winning the match, I flip out of my chair and land behind him. He’s too focused on the knife in his arm to notice me until I grab his hair. Another knife in my hand, I yank his head back and slit his throat.

The client wanted him killed in front of his friends; who watched as he pummeled a first time, 18-year-old driver into a coma.

As his blood runs out his neck, flowing in full view of his buddies, my mind wanders to Witch-Hazel.

What is she up to?

✨🔮✨

“Let me see if I have this correct,” Barlow inquiries, “you spent all that time with that woman; and didn’t have sex with her?”

I bite my lip so hard that I taste blood.

🌿💀🌿

She’s probably locking in, focusing on important magic shit. I need to focus myself, since I just killed this asshole in front of his crew.

I wasn’t hired to kill anyone else, but a girl’s gotta defend herself. I flip the knife into a reverse grip and raise it.

In this blazing heat, the seconds that tick away feel like ages. I’m waiting for one of them to make a move. They’re all just staring at the corpse of the man they once knew. One guy shifts from his initial shocked expression to a more…accepting one?

He shrugs and nods.

“I get it,” he simply says. All the others share his sentiment. Noticing my confusion, he elaborates, “Rohadék.” He points to him. “Asshole, big one.”

The guy standing next to him holds his hands up in a measuring gesture.

“Huge.” They all shrug and nonchalantly disregard that I just killed a man. It makes things a lot simpler, but it makes me wonder how much of a dickhead this dude was that his own boys aren’t even mad.

Some loyalty.

I ease out of my defensive stance and look at the body. There was no plan for body disposal. One of them takes out a phone and starts texting.

“We take care of, no worries.” He assures me with an ‘okay’ signal. My heart calms down from the flip and slit. I retrieve my knife and back away from them, watching the whole time. None of them try anything.

I get back to my car, shrug, and drive off. Taking off my jacket and blasting my AC, I call Tamara to let her know I’m finished.

“Good. Be on standby,” she directs.

“Gotcha.” She doesn’t like my informal response, sucking her teeth, but doesn’t reprimand me. I start looking around for what I can do in my downtime when I notice Larkspur and Kadupul walking down the street.

I pull up beside them and whistle.

“What are you cuties doing out here?” I ask. Kadupul has a machete in her left hand that was recently used. Larkspur is wearing our wristband that hides a small one-inch blade. Perfect for slicing a jugular vein in a crowded room.

Kadupul does a cutesy salute with the machete in hand. Larkspur just nods.

“Whatchu doing?” Larkspur asks.

“Just finished a job, y’all?”

“Same,” Kadupul replies.

“Lift?”

The two look at each other and hop in my car. After depositing the blade in the trunk.

“What’s with the machete?”

“Guy I killed was using it, thought it was pretty cool, so I nabbed it,” Kadupul explains.

“Why are y’all walking together, where are your cars?”

Larkspur groans in annoyance.

“Ugh, long fucking story.” Kadupul laughs a bit. “Your friend here did something stupid, as always-”

“Fuck you.”

“And ended up fighting her way to where I was working and brought some new acquaintances with her. One of which prepared a Molotov cocktail-”

“I fail to see how that was my fault,” Kadupul defends herself. “How the hell was I supposed to know that guy was an alchemist?”

“And threw it at my car. And it’s hot enough as it is.”

“Where’s your car, K?”

“Between all the fighting and the fire, I lost my keys and forgot where I parked.” She takes out a spliff and lights it.

“Does your body just make those?”

“Ha! I wish!”

“So we’re all on standby, what should we do?”

“If we can go fifteen minutes without a car exploding, that’d be great,” Larkspur notes.

“Yeaaaaah, shit’s been crazy,” Kapudul mumbles.

“The city has ataxia,” I observe.

“Huh?” Both my compatriots query. “Where’d you learn that fancy-ass word?” Larkspur further inquires.

“It’s a loss of control of limbs,” I answer. Both of them are silent after that, they know why I know that. To fill the silence, I add, “This spiraling is a result of what we did. It’ll settle one way or another.”

A cop siren blares and red and blue lights flash in my rearview mirror. I suck my teeth, annoyed. Without even asking, I stick my hand out and Larkspur retrieves the roll of hundreds in the glove compartment. I quickly count out twenty bills and move them to my other hand.

Pulling over and stopping, we all sit, irritated that we have to deal with this. The officer approaches the car and I roll down the window. As I spot him in my peripheral, I toss the money out.

“Here, get the fuck out my face,” I say without waiting for whatever bullshit he was gonna say. I peel off before he reacts. Kadupul and Larkspur laugh. The sirens blare again and we all groan.

I tune out throughout the arresting process. My guess is this is a brand-new rookie who seriously wants to change the police force. And this city. Bushy-tailed and bright-eyed, displaying nauseating zeal for getting us ‘gangbangers’ off the street. We decide to show him mercy, as no one has had the decency to tell him how things work around here. Or who the Bay Leaves are.

Any cop with two brain cells to rub together knows that arresting us is as pointless as it is lethal. And as much as I want to make bacon, I have other people to kill that I’m getting paid for.

So we relax, handcuffed, and enjoy the surprisingly good AC. Kapudal and I can dislocate our thumbs and get out of these cuffs pretty easily; but Larkspur already texted Tamara who, no doubt, has dirt on the captain here, and we’ll be out in half an hour.

My thoughts breeze back to Witch-Hazel. She promised we’d see each other again. She said it so certainly, like the rising and setting of the sun.

If…when we saw each other again, what should I say to her?

I’ve made up my mind that us being together, knowing each other, will only result in pain for her. She doesn’t deserve that. Not her.

I think that, but have no earthly idea how I’d go about it. Which is weird cuz I’ve broken more than a few ladies' hearts in the past.

Why can’t I do the same to her?

I shake my head to dispel that thought.

Let’s get through this day first before we worry about any of that.

A clamoring cabal of corrupt cops crowd into the precinct. One look at them is all I need to determine that they’re real pieces of shit. Flashy jewelry and designer ‘undercover’ clothing that they couldn’t reasonably afford on just a police salary.

I want to ignore them, but I, we, have been trained to eavesdrop on cops like this. Especially in chaotic times like these, they might say something useful.

And though it’s doubtful this particular group has anything of merit to share, Larkspur and Kapudul perk up with me and listen in.

Their attention is on the one at the center of their cluster. The group doesn’t notice us looking and listening in as they walk to the front desk.

“Jesus, I still can’t believe you shot him just like that, Ricin,” one of them declares.

“You saw how big that guy was. Could’ve ate me for breakfast!” He responds, with neither fear nor remorse in his voice. Glee is how I’d describe it.

“He said he was 16!”

Everything goes black.

✨🔮✨

Everything comes into view as I wake up from a nap I didn’t know I had taken. Barlow, who invited himself in, is reading a book when he notices me.

“Didn’t you just sleep a few hours ago?”

“Planetary traversing messes up my sleep schedule, I suppose.” A groan escapes me as I lean up.

“Isn’t that gonna be a big part of this new sorcerer initiative? Going back and forth?”

I shake my head and stand up.

“No, no, I want sorcerers to live amongst non-magic people. Get in touch with how they live,” I explain.

“You sure this isn’t all to ‘get in touch’ with a certain someone?”

“I’m hoping to do more than just touch,” I confess as I look through a collection of elixirs.

“That’s my cue to leave before you start going into detail,” he replies, getting up from my couch.

“She has these back dimples that are so cute, I just want to-”

“I’m leaving.”

“And her abs are diamond hard, I can’t wait to-”

“GOODBYE!” He slams the door on his exit.

I go back to browsing my elixirs when the door opens. Barlow peeks his head in, raises his finger, opens his mouth, doesn’t say anything, and then leaves again.

I shrug and keep perusing my wares. As I glance at a brown bottle, I think about how I still haven’t thought of a plan of how to tell Mentor Acacia, or for that matter finding out more about why she came after me herself.

Which takes precedence? The second thing, right?

I shake my head. This is not the time to worry about that. I should focus on getting in with the sorcerers. I find the clear bottle I was looking for, containing a timed rest elixir. It’ll make the imbiber sleep until a designated time; dawn, in the case of this specific one. I place it on my bedside table and take a moment to look at my wardrobe. I have no idea what Lantana has in store for me, so it’s best to be prepared for anything. I take my purple dress out and lay it on my bed.

So many things to do, but I’ve felt at ease knowing I retorted Hollyhock’s memory. It’s just a start for greater things, so I can take less hesitant breaths.

Lying down on my bed, I look at my hands; opening and closing them idly. For so long they wanted to be the instruments of a sorcerer, to wield combat magic. I faltered on that for a time; but thanks to Hollyhock, I’m closer to who I’ve always wanted to be.

I grab the elixir and sip its contents. Almost immediately, I feel its effects relaxing my muscles.

I exhale deeply.

Everything goes black.

🌿💀🌿

Everything comes into view and I see I’m standing over a mangled corpse. A clear scene of chaos surrounds me. Larkspur and Kadupul stand over a couple of corpses of their own. Terrified cops and criminals look at us with absolute fear in their eyes. The handcuffs on my wrists are broken. A dull pain radiates the left side of my chest, over my heart. I’m guessing it’s from a bullet, fired by the man whose face I’ve splattered all over the floor.

My hands, bloodied and bruised, ball into fists as frustration erupts in my chest.

“FUCK!” I shout when it becomes too much for me. Just when I think I’m getting better, this happens.

Can’t believe I blacked out again.

“Hey, you’re alright,” Kadupul directs to me. I can’t tell if it’s a question or a statement. She still has her cuffs on.

“She’s right,” Larkspur adds. “You’re good, H.” Since there are witnesses around. A few of the people who were detained have taken this opportunity to escape, others are paralyzed by fear. The cops that know better act like this isn’t happening.

“NO, I’M NOT O-” I bark back, but then I realize this isn’t the place or time for me to argue about my mental stability.

I take the gun off the man I killed, and we exit quickly. Larkspur picked up the cuff keys and takes the shackles off us. I rub my wrists and look at my hands. A tooth found its way into the flesh of my right middle finger. I flick the piece of bone into the street and look at the wound.

I’ll definitely need to disinfect that.

“Tamara says she’ll take care of it,” Larkspur states.

“I start one war, we end that, and I start another,” I note.

“We’ve warred with the cops before,” Kadupul points out while producing yet another spliff. “They lost. Bastards don’t have the stones, gear, manpower, or time to hash it out with us.” She lights it.

“If anything, they have a press release about the ‘tragedy’ and,” Larkspur stops as we hop the fence into the impound lot. “Go after some unrelated gang and call it a win.”

That doesn’t exactly make me feel better. We walk in silence for a moment.

“Besides that, you came back to us faster than ever,” Larkspur remarks. “That has to be a sign of progress.”

“I guess that’s true,” I reply. My blackouts are usually much longer, and I end up somewhere completely different. My head also doesn’t hurt like it does afterward.

Did Witch-Hazel restoring my memories do this?

We find my car and pile in.

“And you did some gangsta ass shit, Holly,” Kadupul adds.

“What did I do?”

“The cop you went after pulled a gun on you, but you aimed the handcuff links where the shot would land. Never seen any shit like that before.”

“How the hell did I do that?” She makes a ‘I don’t know’ sound. “Let’s get out of here.”

✨🔮✨

I rouse from my sleep and get ready immediately. Heading to the door, I realize that I don’t know where I’m supposed to meet Lantana. As I step outside, I see the woman in question.

“I was just about to knock, too. Let’s go.”

I follow without comment. She’s dressed in exercise wear, shorts, and a compact bra. It makes me reconsider what I’m wearing, but it’s too late now. Lantana is a lithe woman, the compact muscles of a sorcerer seem huge to any other magician.

We walk in silence to the outskirts of IronHenge, staying along a river bank. I see a circle of others levitating off the ground. They part as we approach, allowing Lantana and me to stand in the center. She turns to face me.

“Do you know what makes a sorcerer a good fighter?” She asks. Years under the tutelage of Mentor Acacia have taught me to recognize when I’m presented with a rhetorical question. This isn’t that.

“Knowing what they’re fighting for,” I intuit. She nods.

“I believe that a sorcerer is only as good as the people they depend on. We may usually operate solo, but when the need arises; we work together, and I want us all to trust each other.”

Lantana gestures to everyone in the circle.

“I know why all of them are fighting, when I know their reasons, I can trust they’ll put their heart into it and have my back out there.”

I don’t like where this is going.

“You brought up an interesting idea, a very drastic change to how we operate,” she notes. “I brought it up with the others, and they aren’t opposed to it. Many are all for it.”

The surrounding sorcerers all nod in agreement.

“But I can tell you didn’t just think that up and volunteer for it because you’re prone to whimsy. Something is moving you to make these changes. So I want you to tell us all what your reason is.”

I look around at all of them, and they all meet my eyes with steely determination.

“We’re not Seers, but we’ll know if you lie to us. I’ll reject you here and now if you can’t share your truth,” Lantana demands.

Silence falls over us. Like a child, I hang my head in shame for a second. Then I remember that Hollyhock is a great woman, she deserves this love, and my love for her is nothing to be ashamed of.

I raise my head and lock eyes with Lantana.

“I’m doing this for love.”

She opens her mouth, but I answer before she asks.

“There’s a non-magic woman I love, it was in her city that I fought the Necromancer. It’s for her that I made up this initiative because I want to see her again,” I admit.

They’re all stunned except Lantana who just narrows her eyes at me.

“You’d admit to breaking one of our most important rules? Just like that?”

“You wanted the truth, plus I already broke one major rule, so,” I shrug. Lantana stares at me for a moment, then produces her notebook from somewhere. She writes something down, and I don’t like that she’s doing that right in front of me. With a quaint little PAP, the book closes.

“Let’s get started.”

Ch. 29 End