It was early in the morning, and the department store was almost empty.

If they kept taking this long, it was only a matter of time before one of the store’s employees would come over to them. His social anxiety was through the roof.

“You three are so quick,” Nicolas groaned, scrutinizing the phone displays. “I just can’t seem to decide.”

“Indeed,” Arlene replied. “Select your phone or I will select one for you.”

“Just give me one more minute,” Nicolas said. “I’ve narrowed it down to three.”

Tristan tried to exchange looks with Arlene and Bridget, but neither of them seemed interested in being friendly with him.

Arlene took out her notebook from her jacket pocket and started jotting something down.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Tristan said. “Why do you always use that instead of just typing it out on your phone?”

“Unreliability,” Arlene glanced up at him. “My notebook cannot be short-circuited like my phone can.”

He supposed she had a point. After all, they were only here now because each of their phones ended up useless yesterday. Whatever that girl with the glasses did, she managed to completely destroy all the technology around her.

“I also feel that writing things with my hands helps me to retain information,” she closed the notebook and put it back into her jacket. “I find that the words I write communicate with me in a different way than typed ones do.”

“…Oh,” Tristan said. This was probably the most Arlene had ever said to him one-on-one. He wasn’t really sure how to carry the conversation any further.

“Alright gang,” Nicolas said. “I’ve got one. Let’s get out of here and get to work.”

“What are we doing?” Tristan asked.

Nicolas grinned. “We’re making a house call.”

Tristan frowned back. He had no idea what Nicolas meant, but he knew it was pointless to ask. He would let himself be dragged along quietly.

The four of them paid, connected their accounts to their new phones, and left the store. It was early, but the wall of clouds in the sky kept it dark, and it smelled like it might rain. They got into Nicolas’s car and then they were off.

As they weaved through residential streets, Tristan’s mind drifted back to yesterday.

He knew he should be freaking out, but it was so absurd. Really, he felt he should be cracking up about it. He also couldn’t wait to make Jaden eat his words. His online girlfriend with no pictures on her profile was a dude? Yeah right, she was a total babe.

Oh, and she could shoot water out of her hands. That was… different. According to Arlene, it was magic. Real magic. He didn’t expect that, but everything else about Yune was exactly how he thought it was. At least, that’s what he wanted to believe.

She couldn’t really be involved in the attacks, could she? Sure, the fact that she fought with Arlene didn’t look good, but it didn’t make her a murderer. Nicolas and Arlene lost the fight and yet both of them were walking around largely uninjured. She hadn’t killed any of them.

He wanted to try and convince Nicolas of this, but he knew it was best for him to just keep his mouth shut. If he defended her too much, Nicolas might start to think he was on her side… And that he might know more about the situation than he was letting on.

He just wanted to know that she was okay. He couldn’t even talk with her. They tried to track her phone to find her location, but they didn’t have any luck. It was probably fried along with everyone else’s.

He looked down at his wrist and sighed. A silver watch poked out from under the sleeve of his shirt. After what happened yesterday, he made up his mind. He was involved in something far beyond his understanding. If it was a choice between being killed by someone with powers and stopping time to get away, he would wear the watch every day for the rest of his life.

“Alright, if Tristan’s not going to ask, I will,” Bridget spoke up next to him in the backseat. “Where the fuck are we going?”

“Bridget, my girl,” Nicolas laughed. “I never asked you to keep tagging along. Don’t you have guitars to be destroying?”

“I’ll crash us,” Bridget glared. “I’ll slam your head into the steering wheel and kill us all. Don’t think I won’t do it.”

Nicolas let out a hearty laugh.

Bridget’s brand of humor was lost on Tristan.

“It is safe to assume that magicians are involved,” Arlene said. “We have come to the conclusion that it would be best to speak to the magician families living here in the city.”

“Yeah, and we’re starting with my personal favorite,” Nicolas added. “You’ll love them, Tristan.”

“Magicians? Like actual magic?”

“That’s right.”

Tristan leaned back in his seat. “There are… families?”

“You got it.”

“Why am I going to this, exactly?” Tristan asked. “I don’t know anything about magic anyway, so what help can I really be?”

“Come on, don’t talk like that,” Nicolas said. “You’re a junior investigator now. You’re not going to learn anything unless you’re out in the field!”

“Uhh… Junior what, now?”

“Besides, you’re our good luck charm,” Nicolas ignored him. “Interesting things just seem to roll our way when you’re around.”

Tristan couldn’t argue with him there, although he felt that most of the luck he brought was rotten to the core.

They drove silently for a few more minutes before finally stopping at the foot of a hill, and parked the car under a tree.

“Alright, just a little walk from here,” Nicolas smiled.

The four of them got out of the car. Tristan hadn’t been paying attention while they were driving, but they were in an extremely upscale neighborhood. If he were walking around here alone, he would probably have the police called on him.

They followed Nicolas up the hill to a tall gated fence. Behind it, he could see a large lawn, and a traffic circle around hedges and a fountain. Beyond that, stood a gigantic mansion. Was this seriously still Portland? Had they taken a portal to England when he wasn’t looking?

“Is there a barrier on the lock?” Nicolas asked.

Arlene bent down and rubbed her fingers over the keyhole. “Yes.”

“Need me to punch it in?” Bridget asked.

“One moment,” Arlene said. She swiped her hand in front of the lock, and stood back up. “I’ve removed it. It won’t take more than a minute for the familiars on the premises to notice.”

“Alright, Bridget,” Nicolas said. “Don’t go overboard, alright?”

Bridget rolled her eyes. She walked forward, and a loud pounding sound rang out. Tristan gasped as he saw the imprint of her fist in the metal. The gate creaked open.

“How’s that?” Bridget sighed.

“Very restrained,” Nicolas laughed.

“Let’s hurry,” Arlene pushed the gate open and walked briskly toward the mansion. The three of them followed closely behind her.

As they reached the building, Tristan saw that a man was waiting for them. His face looked strong, yet tired, and he had a distinct look in his eyes. Tristan recognized it well. Disgust.

He was dressed in all black, and his jacket had coattails. Tristan’s sneaking suspicion that they had teleported to England seemed more and more likely. This was, without a doubt, an actual butler.

“Walter!” Nicolas called out. “It’s so good to see you. You haven’t aged a day.”

“Mr. Blaine,” the butler replied in a deep, hostile voice. “I’m afraid we were not expecting you.”

Nicolas stepped out in front of the rest of them. “Well I’m afraid that’s how it usually is with me.”

“Indeed,” the butler, Walter, narrowed his eyes. “And what, might I ask, prompted your visit today?”

“Oh, well you know,” Nicolas said. “We were just in the neighborhood and thought we’d stop by.”

“I’m sure,” Walter replied. “Please, right this way.”

As if on cue, two younger looking butlers opened the front double doors from the inside. They all ascended the stone steps and walked into the mansion.

The first thing Tristan noticed was the sound of Nicolas’s boots on the marble floors. Then, the gigantic staircase that led up to the second floor. Above them was a huge hanging chandelier. There was no way to know from here, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if it were covered in diamonds.

Yeah, it was safe to say these people were disgustingly rich.

“We’d like to ask some questions of your masters,” Arlene said.

“I’m afraid that the master and madam are out,” Walter said. “Had we known that you would be coming, we could have…”

“That’s no problem,” Nicolas smiled his usual fake smile. “Gregory and Sadie will do just fine. They’re here, right?”

Walter glared at Nicolas, and then to the rest of them. When Tristan’s eyes met with his, he felt his blood run cold.

“I’ll fetch them at once,” Walter said. “Just one moment.” With that, the aged man ascended the stairs and disappeared.

The two younger butlers remained with them, but avoided returning eye contact. It looked like they were there to make sure they didn’t wander off.

A minute later, Walter reappeared at the top of the staircase. He was accompanied by a blonde man in his late twenties or maybe his early thirties, and a tall blonde woman that was probably around Tristan’s age. The butler said something to them and then disappeared down the hallway again.

Tristan’s legs started shaking. He knew the woman. Not personally of course, but everyone in the city knew her face. She was Portland’s Rose, Clock Link’s idol. She was Sadie Quasar, in the flesh.

Jaden was going to be so jealous, that fucking prick.

And apparently she was magician, but of course she was. Things were already so bizarre that if Nicolas turned out to be an ancient lizard man bent on taking over the United States government, he wouldn’t even bat an eyelash.

Everything was starting to come together. If he remembered right, Sadie’s debut single was titled, ‘Magic Kiss’. Not exactly subtle.

“Y-Y-You never said anything about meeting Sadie Quasar,” Tristan whispered to Arlene.

Arlene gave him a blank look. “You did not ask.”

He wasn’t sure why he was expecting an actual answer.

“Gregory!” Nicolas called out to the blonde man as he and Sadie descended the stairs.

“Hello, Nicolas,” the man replied. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Oh you know, thought I should drop in and see how my favorite magician was doing,” Nicolas said, then turned to Sadie. “And Sadie, how are you? I hear you’re making quite the buzz around town.”

“I’m well, thank you,” Sadie gave a small curtsy.

“Nicolas, I’m afraid I’ve yet to meet your…” the blonde man looked over at Tristan and adjusted his glasses. “Company. Excuse my bluntness, but you always seemed more of the lone wolf type.”

“Well, you can never be too careful,” Nicolas said. “The city’s been a little dangerous, if you haven’t noticed. Thought I might need help from the pack this time around.”

The man didn’t reply, and it was obvious that he was having a difficult time staying cordial.

“This is my partner, Arlene Ferguson,” Nicolas said. “You can think of the other two as trainees. Just pretend they aren’t even here.”

“I see,” the man, Gregory, said.

Tristan was more than okay with being ignored.

It took a moment for him to notice, but Gregory’s eyes were locked with Arlene’s. The look in his eyes was so intense that Tristan swore he felt the air turn thick. Was this magic or could people really affect the atmosphere this much with just an expression?

Then, all at once, Gregory’s expression vanished. “Please, come in,” he put his hand out. “We’ll talk in the living room.”

“Make it the dining room,” Nicolas said. “I’d like as much space as possible. If that’s alright with you.”

“Of… course,” Gregory motioned to the two butlers standing nearby. They hurried over to them. “They will take your jackets.”

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“No need,” Nicolas smiled. “Large houses always have a draft. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I’m no good with the cold.”

“Understood,” Gregory said. “Right this way then.” He turned to his right, and walked out of the entryway, followed closely behind by Sadie. Nicolas and Arlene followed next.

Tristan glanced over at Bridget. “What’s happening?” he whispered

“Same thing as always,” she said. “Nicolas is being an asshole.”

They followed them down a short hall to another door. Gregory opened it up, revealing a room with an intricate carpet and high ceilings. In the center of the room was a long white marble table, probably meant to seat over twenty people at a time.

Nicolas, Arlene, and Bridget walked around table, sitting down in the center of the opposite side. Tristan hurried to get over to them. The two magicians sat down across from them.

“Shall I have the maids prepare something for us?” Gregory asked.

“Could you? I’m famished,” Nicolas laughed. “Some coffee would be great too.”

Gregory motioned at the younger butlers standing nearby. One of them nodded, and then left the room through a different door than they had come in from.

They all sat quietly for what felt like forever. Arlene scribbled away in her notebook at a good pace.

“So Sadie,” Nicolas broke the silence. “It must be nice, huh?”

“I’m sorry?” she perked up. “What must be nice?”

“I was just thinking that it must be nice to have a family so wealthy. I mean, look at this place,” Nicolas spread out his arms. “It must be a lot easier to make it big if you have mommy and daddy to fund everything.”

Sadie’s face turned red, and she jumped up out of her chair.

“Sadie!” Gregory yelled.

“This… This piece of shit barges into our house and then has the nerve to belittle everything I’ve accomplished?” Sadie leaned over the table. “He knows nothing about me!”

“That’s enough,” Gregory pounded his fist on the table. “Out. You’ve allowed your emotions to get the best of you.”

Nicolas clapped his hands. “Oh no, that’s alright,” he said. “Little Miss Sadie doesn’t need to go anywhere. In fact, I think I’d like it if you could call everyone in the house here right now.”

“Excuse me?” Gregory asked.

“I’m saying that I want every last one of your familiars in this room,” Nicolas said, his voice stone cold. “We have other places to be, so I’d like to just speak to everyone at once and get it over with.”

“Understood.”

“And don’t think you can pull a fast one on us,” Nicolas went on. “I’ll know if any of them hide or have their magic flow cut.”

“We both know that isn’t possible, Nicolas,” Gregory said.

“Want to try your luck?” Nicolas glanced across the table, then to the three of them. “I’ll know if even one body isn’t in this room. I guarantee it.”

Gregory sat silently for a moment, then motioned to the remaining butler. The butler nodded and left as well.

It didn’t take long for other butlers and maids to arrive. Before he knew it, the room was filled with almost fifty of them standing against the walls. A petite girl with dark hair entered the room and sat down across from Tristan. She was probably in high school, and she gave him the look most girls had when he was her age.

“Celeste, you’re getting so big!” Nicola let out a booming laugh. The dark haired girl was less than amused.

“What’s with the skeleton?” she rested her hand on her chin.

She talked like most girls talked to him too. Most people, really.

“Skeleton! That’s great,” Nicolas’s laugh became even more obnoxious. “Arlene, write that down.”

Arlene put her notebook back into her jacket. “No.”

“And what’s with the bimbo?” the girl’s eyes were on Bridget now. “Your girlfriend or something?”

“Look kid,” Bridget said, much calmer than Tristan anticipated. “I don’t know if you’re pairing me with Nicolas or skinny here, but either way, you’re going to make me throw up all over your carpet.”

“Please do,” the girl flipped her hair back behind her shoulder with one hand. “My mother has the absolute worst taste.”

“You know, Tristan,” Nicolas said. “Gregory here specializes in teaching people like us about the ins and outs of magic. He and his father actually gave me my debriefing when I first started. He was just a teenager at the time, if you can believe it!”

Like usual, Tristan wasn’t sure what Nicolas was expecting from him. Was he supposed to think that was interesting?

Sadie was sitting with her arms crossed and her head turned away from them. Tristan couldn’t blame her. She had every right to be mad. There was no reason for Nicolas to speak to her that way.

“Nicolas, can we begin?” Gregory asked. “Everyone in the house is here now.”

“It would seem so,” Nicolas cleared his throat. “I’ll make this brief. As you all know, there have been several magic related incidents in the city over the last three days. A team of investigators from the association was sent here to check in on you, and now they are nowhere to be seen.”

Tristan hadn’t heard anything about any investigators missing. Was ‘the association’ Nicolas was talking about different from the branch of the FBI he was with?

“I want to start by reminding all the familiars here that they have a legal obligation to disclose any information they may have, as well as any illegal activity that their master may be involved in,” he smiled. “Not to say that you’re doing anything wrong, of course.”

Gregory glared at him from across the table.

“Anyway, I know you must all be busy, so I’ll finish here,” Nicolas smiled. “We are more than capable of providing you with an alternative mana source. You have nothing to be afraid of if you come clean with us.”

Tristan could feel the air getting heavy again.

“Is there anything anyone would like to fill us in on before we go?” Nicolas looked around the room.

Tristan held his breath. It was so silent, he felt like he would be the only one in the room to be making any noise otherwise. He had read about familiars in fantasy novels before, but he wasn’t sure if that’s what Nicolas was talking about. Arlene talked about ‘magical energy’ while pinning him down in his apartment, so he assumed mana was probably the same thing. For once, a background in fantasy terminology was coming in hand.

Then it clicked for him. Nicolas hadn’t come here to talk to these magicians at all. He came to talk to their servants, and he was bribing them with the promise of protection. He supposed it made sense that magicians would be near the top of their watch lists, but the idea that Sadie Quasar was a murder suspect seemed insane.

“No? Nothing? That’s a shame,” Nicolas stood up from his chair. “Well I trust you all know how to get in touch with us if you… remember anything.” With that, he adjusted his collar and motioned for the rest of them to get up too.

“What about your coffee?” Gregory asked.

“Cancel it,” Nicolas sighed. “I’m not in the mood anymore.”

“That’s it?” Sadie asked, anger still potent in her voice. “Did you just come here to waste our time?”

Nicolas ignored her, and the four of them walked toward the door to leave the dining room. Walter was already there, waiting with it open for them.

On the way out, Tristan glanced over at the butlers and maids that lined the wall. All of them seemed remarkably stoic. Well, all expect one.

His eyes stopped on one of the maids, and it almost froze him in his tracks. Her look was on a completely different level compared to the ones that he got from Bridget or Arlene. Her eyes were hostile, filled with rage. It made him feel like running out of the mansion as quickly as he could.

“Give it up, Tristan,” Nicolas said, bringing him back to his senses. “She’s just a familiar. Made of magic. Not a real girl.”

Tristan looked away from her and hurried out of the room and back to the entryway. Walter had the front door open for them, and they made their exit without saying another word.

As they left through the damaged gate and headed down the hill, Tristan spoke up. “Do you really think they did it?”

Nicolas glanced back at him. His features seemed to soften when he saw how shaken Tristan was.

“Everyone looks like a suspect, Tristan,” he said. “Feels like we’re getting nowhere fast.”

They made it back to the car and started down the street again.

“You know Tristan, I used to be a lot like you,” Nicolas said, making slight adjustments with the steering wheel. “Thrown into a world I didn’t understand. A world where I was powerless.”

What the hell? Was Nicolas seriously trying to have a pep talk with him? Arlene was writing in her notebook. Bridget was staring out of the window on her side. Neither of them seemed particularly interested in taking part in what was going on.

“Fortunately, I had the help of someone,” he went on. “He was like a mentor. No, more like a father. It was only thanks to him that I found my footing.”

“That’s… nice,” Tristan managed to squeak out. He had no idea why Nicolas was telling him this.

“Keep up the good work.”

Tristan sat dumbfounded for a moment. He turned his head to look out his window. If he seemed interested in the scenery outside, then maybe Nicolas would stop talking to him. They were passing by a park with swings and a jungle gym. Some of the equipment looked damaged. A drunk driver must have rammed into it or something.

The awkwardness stayed with him all the way to their next stop. Like the previous residence, the house was a good distance from any other buildings. However, it was more of a large house than it was a mansion. The difference in wealth between this family and Sadie’s was as plain as day.

Next to the front gate was a name plaque that read: ‘Faucher’. The gate lacked any sort of lock, so they just helped themselves inside.

They walked down the stone path through the front yard. When they reached the door, Nicolas reached up, slamming the door knocker a few times.

There was no answer. In fact, it was eerily quiet. Nicolas gave Arlene a nod, and she reached out and touched the doorknob. She gave it a twist, and it opened right up.

Tristan was immediately hit by a gust of hot air and the smell of iron. He didn’t need to ask to know what it was right away. The scent was still fresh in his nose from just a few days earlier. It was the smell of blood.

“Bridget, I need to you watch my back,” Nicolas said, pulling out his gun from its holster.

“Watch your own back, dumbass,” she scoffed under her breath.

Arlene opened the door all the way to reveal the entryway. It was dark, and the smell only got stronger as they took a step inside.

“Stay together,” Nicolas said.

They inched their way down the hallway until they reached a large room. Arlene flipped on the light switch, but the light was dim and did little to illuminate it.

It was a living room. It was neither clean nor dirty, and it looked infinitely more normal than the extravagant mansion he had just been in. There were couches, chairs, and even a television. Tristan entertained the thought of magicians watching trashy reality TV and basketball.

On one end of the living room was the kitchen, which was set up so that it was a part of the living room itself. Honestly, this part of the house didn’t look all that different than the one he grew up in with his mother and sister. It was almost comforting.

Nicolas and Arlene spread out, looking behind the furniture and behind the curtains. Arlene opened up the only window in the room and a light breeze drifted in.

Then he noticed the sound. It was like water dripping, and it was coming from inside the room. Tristan walked into the kitchen and looked into the sink. Sure enough, it wasn’t turned off completely. This was actually one of his pet peeves, a sin his sister was guilty of many times over. He reached out and shut it off.

“Tristan! Above you!” Nicolas yelled.

Gunshots rang out behind him and he stumbled backward. He looked up just in time to see something pitch black launch itself off the ceiling and fly past him.

He scrambled to get back on his feet. Arlene was on the ground, fighting back the black creature on top of her. Its teeth were razor sharp, and its claws were just inches away from tearing into her face.

“Fuck!” Nicolas yelled. It looked like he had emptied the clip. He threw his gun at it and pulled out a knife.

Before Nicolas could close the distance, Arlene managed to grab the monster around the wrists. She pulled her legs toward herself and a glowing silver circle appeared in front of her body. She kicked her legs up through it, and into the stomach of the dark figure, sending it through the air.

The ceiling cracked from the impact, but the creature was still moving. It was upside down, latching onto it like a spider.

Bridget was grunting now, and he finally realized that she was fighting one of the creatures too. No, it was two. They were moving so ferociously, and with such disregard for one another it was impossible to know where one started and the other began. If he had been on the receiving end of their attacks, he would be cut to ribbons right now.

Bridget’s fist smashed into one of their heads with a crunch. It collided with the other, and they slammed into the wall.

Above Nicolas, something moved.

Tristan knew what it was, and he only had a split second to make his decision. No other choice. It was now or never. He grabbed his wrist and pressed a button on the watch.

He felt something envelop him, and it went quiet. Nicolas froze in place.

He had used it.

Why wasn't it working?

Those... things were still moving.

Tristan pressed the button again, but it was already too late. The one on the ceiling jumped down on Nicolas, digging its teeth deep into his arm.

Tristan’s ears popped and a terrible scream filled the room. It was red. There was red all over the floor. What was happening?

Nicolas slashed at the creature with his knife but it only bit down harder. Bridget was yelling something now too, but he couldn’t make out the words. Everything was going fuzzy.

He could see someone in the frame of the window. It looked like a girl. She was waving her hands around at them. What was she trying to do?

Suddenly, the black figure let go of Nicolas’s arm and shrieked. Its torso twisted like a wet rag and it was ripped in half, spraying a black, oil-like substance all over the room.

The other two were suddenly shot up at the ceiling. They hit it with the force of an insect hitting a car’s windshield, and their insides rained down, splattering on Tristan’s face and clothes. Unfazed, Bridget ran to Nicolas, catching him before he collapsed on the floor.

Tristan threw up.

“Hey! Stay awake you fucking idiot!” Bridget slapped Nicolas’s face.

“Can you stand?” Arlene put her hand out to him. “We have to get Nicolas to a hospital at once.”

Tristan looked back to the window, but all he could see was the backyard outside. “A girl,” he said. “There was a girl.”

“There was no girl,” Arlene said.

“Huh?”

“There was no girl,” Arlene repeated. “Do you understand?”

Tristan sat motionless for a moment before he nodded his head.

It was the second time that day that a woman looked at him with rage in her eyes.