Splitting up was not a good idea. It was never, ever a good idea, and Amelia thought Oscar would have been smarter than that. But no, he had ran off before she could say another word. It didn’t help that the storm was picking up again, almost like it had followed them from Washington. It felt like something bad was about to happen.

At least Charon’s presence was a comfort. Although she’d never admit it, she felt safe around him these days.

It’s because he’s a siren, a nagging voice in the back of her mind reminded. Imagine if babcia saw who you’re buddies with. She pushed those thoughts away. She had established that as annoying as Charon was, he was harmless.

As they walked along Des Plaines Street, she thought about how much had changed since Oscar came into her life. Everything had been… well, normal, before then. As normal as a witch’s life can be. She had trained under Dennis’ watchful eye, was taught to be wary of — even despise — any and all magical creatures that weren’t witches.

Then Oscar had introduced him to Charon. Out of all creatures to befriend, a siren. The very reason Dennis and her had to leave Virginia. Yet somehow, she had learned to tolerate Charon and his family. They didn’t seem dangerous at all; in fact, Marina seemed to care about her safe-being just as much as her own children’s.

It wasn’t just that, though. Along with Oscar’s presence had come the turmoil and disorder between magical communities. The approaching war, which seemed closer now than ever. The disappearance of Killian Monroe, possibly the most powerful and respected witch in all of California.

And now Oscar was gone as well. It was weird being away from her best friend for the first time in… what, over a week now?

“It’s okay. He’ll turn up,” Charon said next to her. Amelia wasn’t sure if it was for his own reassurance, or for both of theirs.

“Yeah. He will,” Amelia said anyway. “Do you smell anything?”

“It’s difficult in such a dense place. There are traces of magic everywhere,” Charon said.

“Oh,” Amelia said.

“How about you? See anything?” Charon asked.

“Not really,” Amelia answered. She recognised the Kane Family insignia, but it was nowhere to be seen. Hell, she might have even missed it. There was so much going on all around her that it wouldn’t have been a surprise.

Dennis had once told her that Chicago was the witch capital of America. She understood what he meant, now; everywhere she went, if she looked hard enough, she saw magic. Nothing that would stick out to a regular human, but little things. Like a man who changed the traffic lights with a snap of his fingers, and a girl about her age whose dress changed smoothly into a trench coat at her will when it started raining.

“For a city full of witches, the weather sure is bad,” Charon muttered.

“Witches can’t change the weather. We can affect it a little, but not control it,” Amelia said matter-of-factly.

“Really? That’s weird,” Charon said. “Some of us can. Not many, but there have been a few sirens who’ve harnessed the winds.”

“The winds of the sea. Yeah, I’ve heard of that,” Amelia said. Honestly, she had thought it was only a legend. Her babcia had told her that wind and rain were out of Magik’s reach because they were older and wiser. There were creatures that were allies with the wind, friends of the clouds or daughters of the rain, but even they could only do so much.

Of course, babcia hadn’t been as all-knowing as Amelia once thought.

“Should we start circling back?” Charon said.

“Yeah, probably,” Amelia said.

The next crossing they came to, they took Kinzie Street and headed east.

“It’s a cool city. It’s a shame we don’t have time to really explore,” Charon said as they were walking on a bridge that crossed Chicago River. The water was cold, dark and restless beneath them.

“I’m gonna move here someday, probably,” Amelia said. “My brother says he wants to live here.”

“Oh. It’s a pretty far way from California,” Charon commented.

“We used to live in Virginia. It’s not that bad,” Amelia said.

“How come you moved?” Charon asked.

“How come you’re asking?” Amelia said. It came out snappier than she intended. That happened a lot.

“Aren’t friends supposed to know that kinda stuff about each other?” Charon pointed out.

“I didn’t know we were friends,” Amelia said.

Charon’s mouth tugged into a small smile. “I wouldn’t travel across the entire country with someone who wasn’t my friend.”

“That’s a good point. Sorry,” Amelia said.

She sighed and stuffed her hands into her pockets. She wished she had a proper coat, but the only jacket she had brought along was Dennis’ old leather jacket. She wore it most days, unless it was too warm.

“I’m sorry if that was too intrusive or something,” Charon said.

“No,” Amelia said. “It’s okay. I just don’t talk about it a lot. I haven’t told Oscar about most of it.”

“Why not? He’s your best friend,” Charon said.

“He is, but… I don’t know. He’s been through so much I don’t want to bother him with my bullshit,” Amelia admitted.

“That’s no excuse,” Charon said.

“I know,” Amelia groaned. “God, you’re the worst. You ask all the difficult fucking questions.”

“Somebody has to.” Charon shrugged.

Amelia chewed the insides of her cheeks. It’s not like they had anything better to talk about. “I don’t know my parents. My brother and I used to live with our babcia in Norfolk.”

“Babcia. What’s that, Russian or something?” Charon asked.

“Polish,” Amelia snorted. “It means grandmother.”

“Okay. I didn’t know you were Polish,” Charon said.

“My mom is. Or was, I don’t know. My dad could be as well, but…”

“You don’t know.”

“Yeah. I doubt it, with our last name and everything. My brother’s name was actually spelled with just one ’n’, but he changed it. He’s always wanted to fit in,” Amelia continued. She kicked a pebble on the bridge, and it bounced off and landed in the river. “Anyway, we were basically raised by our grandmother. Babcia trained Dennis and taught him everything she knew about magic.”

“So, what happened to make you move to San Fransisco?” Charon asked.

“Babcia died.” Amelia hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell Charon. “It was a pack of sirens.”

“Sirens don’t hunt witches,” Charon said, frowning.

“These ones did. I don’t know why. Dennis was still at school, and I had been playing in the garden. I heard some noise from inside the house. I found… I found babcia. She was still breathing, but— She, uh… wasn’t doing good. There was a lot of blood. She died a couple of days later.”

Amelia told herself it was the harsh wind that made her eyes water, not the memory. She wiped the tears away quickly and hoped Charon didn’t see them. If he did, he didn’t mention them.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.

“It was a long time ago,” Amelia said.

“I get why you were scared of me, at first. I’m sorry I was awful to you,” Charon said.

“I was awful to you as well,” Amelia pointed out.

Charon grinned. “How about we call a truce, then?” he suggested.

“Sure. Sounds good,” Amelia said.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The walk was more pleasant from then on, and the conversation less personal. They mostly talked about school, which felt refreshingly normal. Amelia was telling Charon about an incident in chemistry that happened a few months before Charon moved to California when Charon stopped in his tracks.

“What is it?” Amelia asked.

“That building right there. It smells,” Charon said. He was looking at a tall tower that was easily one of the most impressive buildings Amelia had seen in the city, a wicked mixture of traditional gothic and modern architecture.

Amelia opened their tourist map and got her bearings. “Holy shit. That’s the Tribune Tower, it’s a literal landmark,” she realised.

“I mean, it’s in character for a power hungry witch, right?” Charon said.

“Yeah, it is,” Amelia agreed.

They hurried towards the skyscraper. The closer they got, the more Amelia felt it; the raw magic emitting from Tribune Tower. Once they were at the foot of the building, she was sure it was the right place. One of the carvings at the entrance was none other than the Kane Insignia; a proud stallion on his hind legs, equipped with a ram’s horns and the devil’s tail.

“Holy shit. We found it,” Amelia said in awe. What were the chances?

“We found it,” Charon laughed.

—

Oscar was nowhere to be found.

Amelia and Charon had waited at their meeting spot by the main entrance for a good fifteen minutes, and then headed inside to check if he had gone there to get away from the cold. The hall, though busy, had no sign of their friend.

“Maybe he got lost?” Charon suggested.

“Yeah, maybe,” Amelia said anxiously. Neither of them were convinced.

They waited another half an hour, each minute more dreadful than the previous. A pair of security guards had taken a mild interest in them. The guards kept a distance at first, eyeing them suspiciously and talking amongst themselves.

“Maybe we should head back out,” Charon said as the guards started slowly getting closer.

“That’s a great idea, actually,” Amelia said.

Outside, it had started raining. The whole city was wrapped in a cold grey blanket. At least, Amelia thought, it’ll be harder for other creatures to smell us.

“We should call that number,” Charon said in an uneasy voice.

Amelia agreed. It was their only option, at that point. She took out the card, which had gotten soggy back in Washington so the text on it was slightly blurry. Thankfully it was still readable.

They found a payphone inside the station. Amelia dialled the number while Charon stood close by to listen in and look out for any more suspicious guards.

“Bullock and Berger Lawyer Solutions, how can I help you?” asked a cheerful voice when the call finally connected.

“I, uh… I was told to ring you if I needed help,” Amelia said.

“Are you in magical peril, legal trouble or both?” the voice asked.

“The first one?”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll connect you to Ms. Bullock.”

A muted light jazz song started playing. Charon raised his eyebrows at Amelia, and she shrugged at him.

“Barbara Bullock from Bullock and Berger, at your service,” greeted another voice.

“Uh, hi,” Amelia said, straightening up. “This is Amelia Highmore from… Westside High, I guess?”

“How can I help you, Amelia Highmore from Westside High?” Barbara asked.

“I think a friend of mine might be in trouble. I don’t know where he is,” Amelia said. Saying it out loud made a lump form in her throat.

“Have you tried calling him…?”

“We’re pretty far from home. He doesn’t have a phone,” Amelia explained.

“I see. Why do you think he’s in trouble?” Barbara asked.

“I just have a feeling. It’s been a rough week,” Amelia said.

“Who did you say asked you to contact us, again?” Barbara said.

“I didn’t say. It was someone called Elias, I can’t remember his last name,” Amelia said. It was a lie. She wasn’t sure if even Oscar knew the giant’s last name.

“I see,” Barbara said again. There was a long pause. Charon and Amelia looked at each other expectantly. “Where are you right now, hon?”

“Chicago Union Station,” Amelia said quickly.

“Okay. We’ll be there soon, hang tight,” Barbara said. The call ended so suddenly Amelia didn’t have time to say goodbye.

“Should we just sit down and wait?” Amelia asked as she put the phone back.

“Sure,” Charon said.

They sat on one of the long wooden benches in the hall, between a Scottish gaggle of lads and a family of (Amelia assumed) Swedes.

One of the kids in the Swedish family was wailing. The father tried to comfort her as the mother yelled at the other two while they were trying to sneak off. The Scots had decided to start the night early and were sharing a bottle of whisky. Some of it had spilled on the floor and made it so sticky Amelia had to sit in an awkward position to avoid putting her feet there.

Charon’s legs bounced up and down rapidly. He kept fidgeting with his ring — a large silver one on his thumb, depicting the head of an owl. His eyes were closed tight like he was focusing on something.

“Are you okay?” Amelia asked him.

“It’s just a lot of people,” Charon said quietly.

“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t realise, we can move someplace else—“

“It’s fine,” Charon said.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere quieter. I can hardly hear myself think anyway,” Amelia coerced gently.

Eventually Charon agreed to get up and go back outside. He visibly relaxed in the cold air and rain. Amelia was about to ask if he was feeling any better when they were approached by a tall woman carrying a big black umbrella. She was wearing a fashionable oversized suit jacket, leather gloves and tight-fitting pants.

“Amelia Highmore?” she asked.

“Yes…?” Amelia said.

“Barbara Bullock. We talked on the phone.” The woman offered a hand.

Amelia shook hands with her. “Sorry. I didn’t realise, you… you look cool, for a lawyer.”

“Well, thank you,” Barbara said and winked. She had a huge smile, probably the biggest Amelia had seen on anyone. “I have a car waiting just around the corner if you want to get out of the rain.”

“My mom taught me not to get in cars with strangers,” Charon said. He looked a bit shaken, still.

“And that’s very good advice from her. However, I’d like to remind you that it’s freezing cold and you two were the ones who asked for my help,” Barbara said. She sounded impatient, but not threatening.

“Elias gave us the number, didn’t he?” Amelia reminded Charon.

“Another clever observation from the young lady,” Barbara quipped.

“Fine,” Charon muttered. “But if we die, don’t blame me.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “We won’t die,” she said.

“Well, you probably won’t. We’ll try to keep you alive, obviously,” Barbara said cheerfully.

She led them to a sleek black car with tinted windows. The driver wore a surgical mask and a crisp suit. Amelia slid onto the seat behind the driver, Barbara took the middle seat next to her and Charon sat on the remaining back seat.

“Edgar, could we have some music?” Barbara asked.

The driver didn’t say a word. He just turned on the radio, which began to play a Madonna song.

“Where are we going?” Amelia asked as the car started moving.

“Not anywhere in particular, for now,” Barbara said. She took a lipstick and a small mirror from her handbag and fixed her makeup. “My partner has contacted your friend, Elias. He should be in the area and will look for your friend.”

“So we’re not doing anything?” Charon said.

“Don’t be silly,” Barbara tutted. “You’re safer in this car with me and Edgar than you would be out there.”

“Sure, but we want to help,” Charon argued.

“And I’m telling you that you can’t right now. So how about we relax and get to know each other while Elias does his job, hm?” Barbara said.

“What’s his job?” Amelia asked.

“You kids are too curious for your own good these days,” Barbara said. She held a hand over her chest, aghast, like she was in an old film.

“Well? Are you gonna tell us?” Charon said.

“I’m a lawyer, darling, not a detective,” Barbara said.

Amelia sighed and sat back. Maybe it had been a mistake, calling the lawyers. If she hadn’t, at least they could be out there doing something. But no, they were riding around Chicago listening to Madonna.

“So, how long have you been on the road? Must be a hell of a journey all the way from California,” Barbara inquired.

“How do you know where we’re from?” Charon said.

“Elias told me you might be in contact. I just did a background check,” Barbara said.

“We left on the first of last month. Or the second, I don’t really remember. It was pretty late at night,” Amelia said.

“Hmm. You made your way quick, considering Elias told me you stayed in Washington with him for a few days,” Barbara mused.

“I’m a fast driver,” Amelia said.

“I’m sure,” Barbara said.

“Why does your driver wear a mask?” Charon asked curiously.

“My goodness, with these questions again,” Barbara sighed. “He doesn’t like showing his face. The mouth, in particular. Isn’t that right, Edgar?”

Edgar simply nodded. Amelia realised he hadn’t said a single word the whole drive, or made any noise.

“He was one of the Wordless, you see. Mouth sewn shut for the rest of his lifetime, poor thing,” Barbara went on.

“Holy shit, really?” Amelia said. Edgar nodded again, and Amelia felt a strange respect for him.

“Sorry, what’s a Wordless?” Charon asked.

“Have you not heard of the Chosen Children?” Amelia said. She was surprised; Charon was usually very knowledgable of the magical world and its communities, sometimes even more so than Amelia herself.

“No. What’s that?” Charon said.

“The Chosen Children are a… uh,” Amelia glanced at Edgar; she didn’t want to offend him.

“A cult,” Barbara finished for her. “They are witches who believe in the very rawest form of magic. The most determined sew their mouths shut in order to not utter any spells. Edgar here was a part of their little group for, what, two decades, was it?”

“I didn’t think it was possible to control your magic without spells,” Charon said.

“It’s not, quite. But through relentless training, it’s possible to… how should I say this? Become one with your magic. It’s incredibly dangerous. Most don’t survive it,” Barbara explained. Edgar nodded again.

“That’s horrible,” Charon said.

“It is. He’s lucky to be here with us,” Barbara said thoughtfully.

Amelia remembered the stories babcia had told her about the Chosen Children. They believed in Magik with the big M and the k at the end. An entity who had blessed half the world with their power. Once, in babcia’s home town in Poland, the Chosen Children had executed a girl not much older than Amelia herself because she hadn’t shown signs of magic.

A merry tune beeped somewhere in Barbara’s bag. “Oop! It’s my partner,” she yelped excitedly as she fished a fancy new Nokia out. Amelia sat so close to Barbara that she could easily hear both sides of the conversation.

“Bryan, my love! I’m with the kids at the moment, they’re safe and sound,” Barbara said in a sweet voice.

“That’s good to hear. I called Elias, he said he might know where the boy is,” Bryan said. He had a Welsh accent, and Amelia could barely hear papers rustle in the background.

“That’s wonderful to hear. Are you sure you don’t want to come drive with us?” Barbara asked.

“Sorry, honey, I’ve got to work that McDonnell case,” Bryan said sadly. “I’ll try and catch dinner with you later, alright?”

“That’s fine. I think we’ll go to le Sanglier, they ought to have something for the young man as well…” Barbara said. “The Maple Room could do as well, but we might draw too much attention there.”

“I’ll meet you at le Sanglier in an hour or two then,” Bryan said.

“Sounds good. Could you please go ahead and ask Stacy to reserve a table for us? Six seats should do,” Barbara said.

“Will do. I’ll talk to you later, my love.” Amelia could hear Bryan’s smile through the phone. Adults in love were disgusting.

“Give Polly kisses for me. I love you,” Barbara said and physically kissed the phone before hanging up. “Well, that went well, didn’t it?”

“Did I not hear right or are we all going to a restaurant?” Charon asked, quite concerned.

“Of course. You must be starved, honey, have you had a chance to eat at all on your trip?” Barbara asked.

“I mean… a couple of times, sure, and I’ve had normal food,” Charon said. Amelia felt a wave of guilt wash over her.

“Normal food, blah. You don’t need to pretend human food is normal,” Barbara scoffed. “Have you ever had fresh veal? I have this friend, Gary, he swears by it. He went vegetarian a few years back, he says he’ll never go back to human…”