The house on 68th Street was a three story brownstone with curtains over every window. It looked well taken care of — the lawn was neatly mowed, there was no trash to be seen and the porch was clean — but I saw no other signs of life.

I took a shaky breath as I gathered the courage to walk up to the front door. My hand subconsciously reached for the knife in my pocket. I didn’t have a lot of time. If I wanted to go in, I had to do it right then.

I grabbed the knocker, a grotesquely detailed brass vulture head, and slammed it against the door three times. For a moment, I was sure no one was going to answer. Those seconds were torturous; sweat prickled my forehead despite the cold weather, and my heart beat worryingly fast.

Then, just as I was about to give up, the door creaked open. There was no one behind it; it just opened on its own.

“That’s a great sign,” I muttered and stepped in. The door closed behind me.

I had expected the house to be dark and scary, but it felt like a pretty normal house. There was no natural light to be seen, but it was clean. There was a wide staircase in the middle of the entrance hall, and to each side of it two big doors. One opened into a formal sitting area, and the other a dining room.

Both doors slowly closed on their own. I took it as a sign to go upstairs. There, I came to a landing and a long hallway with four doors on either side. One in the very far end opened, as if giving me a silent invite.

“This is how people get killed in horror movies,” I said to no one in particular, but entered the room anyhow.

It was a simple bedroom, with a single bed and a nightstand against one wall, a desk against another, a wardrobe and an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair next to the door. It smelled musty, and there was a thick layer of dust everywhere. There were no lights on, except for an old lamp on the nightstand that clicked on when I came in. When I stepped on the rug that was laid on the floor, a mushroom cloud of grime erupted.

The night light clicked off and on again, so I followed it and sat on the edge of the bed. I opened the drawer of the nightstand to find a shoe box painted black. I took it and placed it on my lap to investigate.

Inside the shoe box was mainly clutter. A rusty pocketknife that squeaked when it folded, an extra set of shoelaces, a cheap bracelet, and an eyeliner pencil that — to my surprise — still worked just fine when I tried it on the back of my hand.

There was a note that looked like the sort kids pass on in classes. In two sets of handwriting, it said:

Roof later?

Sorry, Ms. Cormier wants to talk to me

About what?

Probably the prank

Is Elias not in trouble?

Didn’t get caught

Of course he didn’t

I’ll try sneak into your room later tonight if I’m not dead

Can’t wait

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of Elias. I continued digging. There were three photos, two of them black and white. In the first one, three teenagers were sat on the grass of a small garden. I recognised Elvira in the middle, though I had never seen such an old picture of her; she was around my age. On her left, there was a tall boy. He didn’t have a beard, and he wasn’t at his full height yet, but I knew right away it was Elias. On Elvira’s right sat a girl with wild hair and several tattoos, probably homemade. If I squinted, I could see she was wearing the bracelet from the box.

The second photo was just Elias and Elvira. They looked even younger than in the first one. Elvira must have been in a fight of some sort because she was all bandaged up and had a black eye. She looked quite proud of herself.

The third photo was the only one in colour. The kids surrounded a sloppy birthday cake, all grinning widely. Elvira had frosting on her shirt, but she didn’t seem to mind. Elias had a beard coming in. There was one more person in the background; a proud woman in a black dress, smiling slyly.

I was in Elvira’s childhood home. A part of me wanted to leave immediately, but a bigger, more dominant part wanted to find more. I put the bracelet around my wrist as a keepsake before I put the box back and left the room.

I froze still once I stepped into the hallway. On the far end of it, where the landing was, stood the not-vampires from the train.

“We knew you’d come,” the woman said. She smiled coldly.

“Yeah, well. I’m here now, so get talking,” I said.

“How eager,” the man chuckled. “Follow.”

They led me to the dining room downstairs, and we sat around a long table that could’ve easily seated my whole class if needed. I sat opposite to them, and stayed on the edge of my seat in case I needed to run.

“Now, why don’t we get to know each other,” the woman said calmly. It was like she knew I was running out of time, and stalled out of spite. “This is my brother Amon, and my name is Hathor.”

“Like the Egyptian gods?” I said. Charon had let me borrow a book, once.

“Our mother liked mythology,” Amon said.

“And what are you, if you’re not vampires?” I asked.

“We are one of a kind. Just like you,” Hathor said.

“Yeah, you told me that already,” I said impatiently. “Can you elaborate?”

“Part vampire, part mage, part whatever other concoctions Ewart Kane has come up with,” said a new voice on the other side of the room.

The woman from the birthday picture was there, looking almost exactly the same as she had at least a decade ago. Greying dark hair pulled into a low bun, a long nose, high cheekbones, and a spine so straight you could’ve balanced anything on it. She sat at the head of the table and looked at me quizzically.

“It’s illegal to cross magical breeds,” I remembered.

“And yet here we are,” Amon said.

“And yet here you are,” the woman agreed, nodding.

“Who are you?” I asked.

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“Mathilde Cormier,” she said. “Head mistress of Cormier-Burke Academy.”

“You take in magical children,” I said.

“That I do. And I’d happily take you in as well, if needed,” Ms. Cormier said.

“There’s no need,” I said immediately.

“Of course.” Ms. Cormier smiled. “But I did ask my twins to bring you here for a reason.”

“What’s that?”

“I have a favour to ask of you. Not a big one, just… something small in exchange for the information that was promised to you,” Ms. Cormier said.

“I’m listening,” I said hesitantly.

“The bone in your pocket—”

“I’m not giving it to you,” I interrupted.

The corners of Ms. Cormier’s lips twitched. “I wasn’t going to ask for it, but I admire your spirit,” she said.

“Oh. Go on, then,” I said.

“The bone in your pocket belonged to a witch called Isobel Whitlock, also known as the Dead Witch. Have you heard of her?” Ms. Cormier asked.

“Not by name, but I heard she was a necromancer,” I said.

“She was much more than that. She was capable of harnessing the element of death itself. Of course, that didn’t make necromancy any less dangerous. Her story is a tragic one, and the thirst for revenge has tainted her spirit. It is vital that she’s not brought back by the wrong people,” Ms. Cormier said. Her smile was long gone.

“Wouldn’t it be smarter to not bring her back at all?” I pointed out.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” Ms. Cormier sighed. “Her rising is inevitable.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” I asked.

“Keep the bone safe. She cannot be resurrected without it,” Ms. Cormier said.

“That’s all?” I said, confused.

“Yes. That’s all,” she confirmed. “Now, I believe you had questions.”

“What’s the prophecy?” I asked so fast the words jumbled in my mouth. The twins snickered.

“Knowing the future hasn’t done anyone any good,” Ms. Cormier warned me.

“Yeah, I’ve been told that already,” I said. So many time’s it’s starting to get annoying, I thought.

Ms. Cormier whispered something and flicked her wrist. A deep red envelope, a fountain pen and a sheet of paper flew onto the table in front of her. I waited anxiously as she wrote, and then folded the sheet and tucked it into the envelope. She flicked her wrist again and the envelope slid all the way to my side of the table.

“Don’t read it yet. Wait until you’re ready,” she said when I started opening it.

“I’m ready now,” I insisted, my fingers eager on the envelope.

“No, you’re not. Don’t open it here,” Ms. Cormier said strictly.

“Fine,” I mumbled, only because I didn’t have time to argue. I folded the envelope and put it in the pocket with the knife. “Next question. Where’s my uncle?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry,” Ms. Cormier said.

“What about Ewart Kane?” I asked.

“Kane and the most important members of his coven reside in the Tribune Tower on Michigan Avenue. Pretentious, if you ask me,” Ms. Cormier said.

“Why are you helping me?”

“It’s my job to help children of Magik,” Ms. Cormier answered. “And children will always come first. Prophecies and wars have no place in my house.”

“Oh. Okay,” I said.

“I believe we have time for one more question,” she said.

The question was burning on my tongue, but I wasn’t sure how I wanted to phrase it. I finally settled on the simplest option: “What am I?”

“You are a witch and a bright, brave young man. The rest you’ll have to figure out on your own,” Ms. Cormier answered.

“Wow, thanks. Real helpful,” I said. I stood up. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “If that’s all, I’m in a hurry so…”

“Now wait just one moment, please,” Ms. Cormier said. My chair was pushed forward by an invisible force, and it hit the backs of my legs so hard I buckled back on it. “I have questions to ask as well.”

“Okay,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I wanted to answer any of them.

“You know Elvira. Where is she?” Ms. Cormier asked. She kept her calm manner, but I could hear a hint of worry in her voice.

“She’s the reason I’m here, miss,” I told her.

“What do you mean?” she asked. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the fountain pen.

“She’s the one who betrayed us,” I said.

“That…” Ms. Cormier hesitated and shook her head. “I’m sorry to hear that. I would’ve never expected…”

“Trust me, me neither,” I said.

“What about that woman, Fiona O’Beirne? Have you heard from her?” Ms. Cormier asked.

“No. She’s gone, too,” I answered. I hadn’t thought about Fiona much, having been too worried about everything else. I hoped she was alright.

“Are you sure—“

“We’re running out of time, Mistress,” Amon warned.

“Right. Of course,” Ms. Cormier muttered. She got to her feet and began to pace slowly. She said: “I’d like to know what you plan to do, now.”

“It seems like everybody does. What if I don’t have a plan?” I said.

“Then I suggest you make one. This is no game, Oscar,” she said.

“Every time I’ve planned something, it’s gone sideways. Maybe it’s time I wing it,” I pointed out.

Ms. Cormier paused her pacing to raise her eyebrows at me. “Perhaps the reason things always go sideways is that you don’t plan them well enough,” she challenged.

“Or maybe plans are bullshit,” I said. “I came here without a plan and I’m still alive, right?”

“That is true.” Ms. Cormier’s frown turned into a small smile. “In that case, you might as well… wing it.”

Hathor sniffed the air. “He’s almost here,” she urged.

“Who?” I asked.

“A friend of yours. I believe he thinks you’re in trouble,” Ms. Cormier said. She rolled her eyes dramatically. “As if I would do anything…”

“Wouldn’t you?” Hathor pointed out. Amon grinned.

“Don’t you two have anything better to do?” Ms. Cormier said coldly.

The twins got up swiftly and left the room. I was alone with Ms. Cormier now. “You have really creepy recruiters,” I said awkwardly.

“They have a flair for the dramatic,” Ms. Cormier explained. I had a feeling she did, as well.

“I should really get going now,” I said.

“Aren’t you impatient,” Ms. Cormier said in a flat voice. “Don’t worry. You’ll get a ride back to your friends soon.”

“But—“

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to. Make yourself at home while you wait,” she interrupted.

As she left the room, she uttered an incantation under her breath and I heard a hollow click from the entrance hall. The front door was locked.

“Shit,” I said. My voice echoed in the now empty dining room.

I wanted to trust her, but things were never that easy. There was still a chance that I wouldn’t get out of the house alive, and I couldn’t risk that when I finally knew where Killian was.

I started looking for other exits. The windows behind the thick curtains were all locked shut, and the glass was so thick I couldn’t break it. The door to the back garden was locked and even if it had been open, the garden was surrounded by tall brick walls.

The whole time I explored the house, I felt eyes on my back. They were no doubt Hathor and Amon’s. I ignored them, hoping that Ms. Cormier had given them orders to not harm me.

I remembered the note in the shoebox mentioning the roof. It was my best shot; if I was lucky, there would be ladders leading down. I went back upstairs and began to look for a way there. I opened every door in the hallway, but none of the windows in the bedrooms opened to the roof.

Eventually I found a small room — just used for storage, it seemed, with boxes and bags against every wall — that had a dusty window. It was open. I gasped in delight and started moving the boxes so I could get to the window.

Something dropped on the floor when I moved the last box. A big sewing needle that glistened in the light shining through the window. There was something brown on the tip — dried blood.

I kicked the needle into a corner, opened the window and climbed out. The slope of the roof was dangerously slippery from the rain, but I carefully made my way completely out of the window. My gut lurched when I realised how high up I was. I refused to let go of the window behind me.

I took a deep breath. I started looking around for a ladder, which was hard because I didn’t want to move from my one safe spot. I stepped on the gutter to peek over the edge of the roof. There was a big bush right below me, which I could probably jump on if I had no other options.

“This brings back memories,” a gravelly voice said behind me. I slipped, and for a second I was sure my life was about to end. I didn’t fall, though. Someone had grabbed my arm in time.

“Jesus,” I hissed at Elias, who had managed to appear on the other side of the window without making any noise despite his significant size. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Elias said. He sounded extremely annoyed. He pulled me back into the room, and I sat on the windowsill.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why? Why did you run away from your friends?” Elias said.

“Because I had to come here but I was told to come alone!” I said. I realised how stupid it sounded now.

“I hate children so much,” Elias muttered.

I ignored his comment and said: “You grew up here, didn’t you? You and Elvira.”

Elias sighed and sat on one of the boxes. It creaked alarmingly under him. “Me, Elvira and Jamie. We used to spend almost every night on that roof,” he said.

“What happened?” I asked.

“We grew up.” Elias got up with a groan and headed out. “Come on. We’ll be late.”

“Late from what?” I said as I jogged after him.

“Thanks to your little stunt, we’ve been invited to a late dinner,” he said. He made it sound like dinner was the worst thing on the planet to get invited to.

“It’s like midday, we’re not gonna be late if it’s dinner,” I pointed out.

“I want to show you something first,” Elias explained.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You’ll see.”