Chapter 3: The Akademiya

The month before school started passed quickly and both my instructors and I were positive that I would be able to handle whatever the school threw at me. They’d given me yesterday to visit my mom and say goodbye to all my friends, a day filled with far more tears and awkward silences than I was comfortable with. My total discomfort with my formerly super close friends highlighted just how much I had changed this summer. I wasn’t a kid anymore, but rather someone who had shouldered the burden of adulthood. It made me sad to think of drifting away from such close friendships, but it was probably for the best. I was entering a dangerous world and being my friend could paint a large target on them.

Mr. Hastings stuck his head into my room, “Are you ready Jessica?”

I snapped closed my trunk and grabbed my carry on bag. With my revolver and knife inside my trunk, I felt as bare as this room. Looking at it I wondered if I was ever going to see it again. I shook my head, I couldn’t let myself think that way, “Yeah, let’s go.”

I couldn’t relax at all during the two hours it took to get to the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. Too wound up, I guess. We checked me in and watched my trunk get carried away on the conveyor belt. Then, before I went through security, Hastings pulled me aside for a private word.

Handing me a thin zippered case with a long strap, meant to be worn under my shirt, he told me, “In here is your U.S. Passport and Russian Student Visa. The headmistress was able to rush it through despite the short notice. I’ve also included the paperwork you’ll need to renew your student visa, Yellow Book for verification of international vaccinations, and your official Office of Paranormal Affairs government ID card and badge. I want you to keep that last hidden unless you absolutely need to use it. There’s some spending money in there too, mostly Russian rubles, but I’ve also included some Euros and Chinese Renminbi, as well as some cashier’s checks and a company charge card. Try not to spend it all, it has to last you the year and it’s good to hold some back in case of emergencies.”

I peeked inside and felt my eyes widen at the amount of bills. Wow, I really hadn’t expected so much.

Hastings placed his hand on top of mine and looked me in the eye, “You know it’s not too late. Until you go through the doors of the Academy, you can still turn around and come home.”

“Your bosses have spent an awful lot of money on me to be very happy if I did that,” I responded dryly, trying not to think of that little voice inside me that was just screaming to say ‘yes.’

“They’d get over it.” he grimaced, “Eventually. The point is that you can still choose to say no. Your mom would tell you, a chance for her life is not worth yours.”

I thought not of my mom lying still in her hospital bed, but instead of a time when I’d seen her laughing, full of life, and a tear came to my eye, “I know she probably wouldn’t want me to do this and I agree my death wouldn’t be worth it, but you’ve trained me well and for the chance to see her up and laughing again - well, I believe the risk is worth it.”

He stepped back, “Then I guess all I can do is wish you good luck and pray for your safe return.”

“Thank you Mr. Hastings.”

“Call me Brian. After all, we’re colleagues now.”

I smiled, “Alright. Brian, good bye.” We shook hands and I got in line for the security check. Two hours later, and I was on my way.

The first flight from Sea-Tac to London Heathrow Airport was long. Almost nine hours of time spent sitting in one spot was sheer hell. At least they were good enough to fly me business class and I wasn’t stuck in a chair barely big enough to squeeze into. The food and service weren’t anything to sneeze at either, but nine hours was still an awfully long time. Luckily my next hops would prove to be not quite as long as I went from London to Moscow’s Domodedovo Airport, just over three hours, and then from Moscow to Ulan-Ude’s Lake Baikal Airport, which seemed almost as long at six and a half hours. I spent the time mostly sleeping or reading the Russian phrase book I’d gotten as it had worried me to not be able to speak the language, despite Mr. Hastings, Brian I corrected myself, telling me not to worry. The school apparently had some way for students from all around the world to be able to understand each other.

When I became bored at mangling the Russian language, I did however get the bright idea to activate my second sight for a small portion of time. Seeing the world’s energy streams from miles above the surface was an awe inspiring sight. In its own way, just as beautiful as the sunset and sunrise I was privileged to see from the air. I decided to deactivate my sight though when I’d obviously gotten too tired and thought I’d seen my eyes glowing in my window’s reflection.

It was lightly snowing when we landed in Ulan-Ude, capital of the Republic of Buryatia and the third largest city in Eastern Siberia and I was very lucky an instructor from the school had agreed to meet me at the airport as I feared trying to make my way there on my own. The man holding a white sign with my name on it looked like a Russian stereotype as he stood bundled in his long coat and flapped-eared fur hat. He must have caught me staring as he spoke up.

“It’s called an Ushanka,” he said pointing to the fur hat, his Russian accent thick, but still easily understandable, “You must be Jessica, no?”

“Oh, yes, yes I am,“ I stammered a bit at being caught out by him. Damn it, I needed to be more collected than this. I took a deep breath and hoping I wouldn’t mangle it too badly, tried to greet him in Russian, “Zdras-tvooy-tyeh.”

He grinned, showing slightly enlarged canines, and held out his hand, “Oleksy Biryukov, I will be your Potions professor. I also teach Chemistry and Alchemy. Your pronunciation wasn’t too bad, although your accent was horrible.”

I blushed, “Sorry, I wasn’t able to get much practice in.”

“Ha!” he barked, “Don’t worry about it. You did more than most bother with, but come, we should be leaving. It’s getting late and we must still travel over one hundred kilometers to get to the portal.” He helped me wheel my trunk outside to a parked car as we continued to speak.

“So what is this portal anyways?” I asked breathily, huffing a little bit from the cold and exertion of moving the trolley through the snow.

“Lake Baikal contains twenty percent of the world’s fresh water and due it’s size, mountainous location, and the unpredictable weather of the region, it can be extremely dangerous. Instead of trying to ferry students and faculty across it, some of our first graduates years ago created a portal that would directly transport one across the lake to the Academy on Olkhon Island.”

I seemed to be overflowing with anticipatory nervousness, so even though I was exhausted from my travel, I was easily able to engage fully and eagerly in conversation with my new teacher as we wound through the lunch traffic. We talked about his classes and what I would be learning, the school itself, its history and basic layout, and some of the other teachers. I couldn’t help but comment on his amiability towards a human however and was both reassured and warned by his answer.

“I am unusual in that I went to a human university for my major studies. I have quite fond memories of my time there and because of that a small fondness for your race, but don’t make the mistake of thinking me to be a typical example of the reception you will receive. I expect most of the other professors to be quite a bit harder on you than the other students.” He looked sad at the thought, “Your life here will be quite a bit more difficult than most of our students experience, but I at least will be quietly rooting for you.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so instead let the conversation drift off, leaving us in a semi-comfortable silence until we finally arrived at our destination. The portal, when we reached it, was a giant stone structure half buried in snow and thick with rune carvings. Even without activating my second sight I could feel the amount of power tied to the arch and was suitably impressed. Biryukov took out a stone pendant that looked remarkably similar in stone type to the portal itself as well as a knife. He removed a glove and slashed his palm, smearing his blood on the pendant, before inserting it into a notch seemingly designed for that purpose. Energy swirled between its sides, becoming visible to the normal spectrum for a moment as a kaleidoscope of color, before stabilizing into the image of a torch-lined stone hallway.

“Please step through,” he gestured towards the corridor.

I grabbed hold of my trunk, glad for the wheels attached to one edge and stepped over the threshold. The warm air that burst over me was a welcome change from the prior cold and I looked around curiously as Mr. Biryukov stepped through and the portal swirled closed behind him in a duplicate of the arch we’d left behind on the lakeshore. Following him, we walked down the long windowless hallway, its bare walls broken only by the occasional door and thankfully many torches. At last we turned a corner and went up some stairs to what I was told was the main floor. Even though we were no longer underground, the passageways were still lit only by the ever-present torches as the windows were tightly shuttered, rattling from the strong winds just beyond. The building seemed strangely empty to me as we walked, with no other people visibly around. Mr. Biryukov explained that the headmistress had apparently thought it to be a good idea for me to get me settled in before the rest of the students arrived tomorrow.

As we wandered, he helpfully pointed out the locations of particular classrooms, teacher offices, the cafeteria, library, gymnasium, and student computer lab. Only the library, computer lab, and teacher’s offices were lit by electricity, the rest lit again by torchlight. The school had their own generator, but the headmistress preferred the gentler ambiance provided by the torches and so kept them as the main lighting source of the school. The one place that really delighted me when I was shown it, was the inner courtyard, a place that had seemingly forgotten that winter had come and was filled with warm air, green plants, and a strange assortment of birds that had somehow found refuge there. The greenhouses for the botany courses were aligned against one wall within.

Finally our tour ended at the student dormitories at the top of the building and I was told to pick an empty room. Peeking inside a few, I discovered that they each had their own bathroom, a closet, bed, dresser, and desk, pretty much identical except for whether or not they had a window. I chose a corner room with two windows and thanked my new professor for his help. Before he left, he reminded me to read the rules and notices on my desk provided along with the key for the room and my Algebra exemption test, which I would need to complete and hand in to the Algebra instructor tomorrow morning. Then he handed me a complicated looking earring that consisted of several tiny metal runes linked in a dangling row.

“What is this?” I asked, looking at it curiously.

“It’s your translation charm. As long as you keep this in an ear you will be able to understand anyone else, regardless of their spoken language. It’s standard issue wear for everyone here.” He explained, lifting his left furry hat flap to show the one he himself was wearing, “It is yours to keep. To activate it, just coat it with some of your blood.”

I held it up to look at it closely, “Cool.”

One side of his mouth twitched in amusement, “Yes it is. Anyways, here is your schedule. If you look at it you’ll see breakfast is served from seven to eight in the morning, lunch from twelve until one, and dinner runs from five until eight in the evening. A wake up bell will ring an hour before breakfast starts, and at the beginning of every meal and class period. Classes will start the day after tomorrow, so I suggest you spend that time getting your rooms in order. You are allowed to put any protections on your room that you deem necessary, so long as they are non-lethal. Any alterations needed for such are allowed and the repair costs were already included in your tuition. And now with that, I shall bid you a good night.”

After he left, and deciding to get it out of the way first, I sped through the waiting algebra test. Then, still running apparently on an adrenaline high, I went to my trunk to get out my rune carving kit, a vial of acid, some brushes, and the dry-ice filled pouch that contained several vials of my own blood. It had taken days to safely drain enough for what I was going to need and if I wanted to get my room protected before the other students got here, I had better ignore the tiredness creeping up in my bones and get started.

I began with a clever little rune trap I’d created that would electrically shock anyone trying to unlock the door without the proper key. Using the acid I’d brought I etched the necessary symbols into my door lock and key. Then I ran a wire coated in my blood and shaped into additional runes from the door plate to a close-by electrical output, and after charging the acid-etched runes with more of my blood, the whole configuration was now good to go. Next I etched into the hinges and also the larger wooden part of the door strengthening runes, so that no one could just break the door down. Then, I moved on to the windows, only taking a brief break around six for dinner in an eerily empty cafeteria before going back to work. By the time I’d finished doing my best to make sure no one would be able to enter the room physically or magically without my permission, my eyes were drooping and I couldn’t seem to stop yawning. It was long past midnight and not even bothering to undress, I gratefully passed out on my still unmade bed.

* * *

The bell toll boomed, sending vibrations ringing through my skull and bringing me with a jolt to full awareness. Ugh, I wiped at my eyes, that was going to get old very quickly. Knowing I needed the sustenance breakfast would bring, I pulled my protesting body out of bed and started digging through my trunk for a fresh set of clothes and my shower things. I felt somewhat better after my shower and cheerfully dug out my thick leather jacket that would help protect my torso and hide my weapons, the revolver in its shoulder holster and silver knife in its sheath at the small of my back. A few sprays of the scent neutralizer potion and a quickly bloodied translator earring added the final touches to my outfit. I grabbed my test, and was ready to go.

Entering the cafeteria I could see several of what I assumed were my professors. There was an exotic woman with skin and hair as black as night. Her hair done up in a series of intricate knots and braids and entwined with a riot of colored ribbons. She wore in contrast a sleeveless button up white dress that shimmered under the torch light, and binding her arms were even more of the bright ribbons, the patterns seemingly purposeful if chaotic, and the whole ensemble strangely striking.

And speaking of striking, talking with her at her side was an extremely handsome man, one who at first glance didn’t appear to be anything other than an extremely dark-skinned human, though I knew better to believe that. At their same table was a pale woman with spiky white hair, an eye-catching blue teardrop jewel earring, and a mouth full of wickedly sharp teeth and what I could only assume to be, a dwarf. I couldn’t tell whether the dwarf was male or female, as even the females of that race had full beards. This particular one’s beard was a reddish brown, laced and braided with tiny beads that looked remarkably similar to those found on my translation earring.

I served myself some food from the steam table and chose a seat on the opposite side of the table next to them. I could see them occasionally throw an eye at me, but they didn’t say a word to me. Keeping my head down, I pretended a strong interest in my eggs as I listened to their conversations. Doing so, I learned that the beribboned woman was Adriana Ricci, the thread magic instructor, the handsome man was a daemon called Marcel that taught mind magic, the pale fanged woman was Headmistress Bolormaa, and the dwarf, Yuri, apparently a female, taught runes.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

As I listened and slowly ate my breakfast, I watched the other instructors trickle into the room. There was a slender man with green hair dressed in dirty coveralls, two black haired Asians - a short male with blue-tinted skin and a shorter woman who wore an elaborate iron filigree choker and whose every visible inch of skin seemed to be covered in rune-shaped scars. When Professor Biryukov came in, he gave me a little wave before heading to the food line. Other instructors included a figure dressed head to toe in filmy rags that seemed to wave from a nonexistent wind, another dark-skinned probable daemon who shot me an extremely disdainful glance when he entered, a graceful woman whose skin seemed to be covered in a fine white feathery down, and an Indian woman wearing a sari and whose lower half was that of a giant snake. It was this last professor I approached after discarding my food tray, recognizing her from Biryukov’s description yesterday as the Algebra instructor.

“Professor Shah, here’s my exemption test,” I handed it over nervously.

She looked down her nose at me, like an insect she wanted to squash, “You’ll be informed if you failed.”

Disappointed with her attitude even though I’d known to expect it and uncomfortable with the stares I could feel coming from the other teachers, I mumbled a thank you and fled from the cafeteria as quickly as I could without actually seeming to. Once out of the room I could almost feel the pressure of their disdain lift from my shoulders and I wondered anew whether I would be able to handle being surrounded by such negativity day in and day out. I supposed I no longer had a choice though, I was at the Academy now to stay.

Closing the door to my room, I felt comforted by the existence of my wards and started unpacking. Setting up my room took all morning, and as I did so, I could hear the other students begin to arrive. They were noisy too, loud thumps as they moved their luggage, shouts as old friends greeted each other, and then finally an insistent knocking at my door. Hesitantly opening it, I was greeted by a brightly grinning russet-haired boy.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully, thrusting out one lightly tanned hand that I tentatively shook, “My name’s Miguel, I’m your new neighbor. I’m a first year and a were fox, and you,” he leaned in to take a deep sniff of me before adopting an adorably confused expression, “I can’t tell what you are. How do you do that?” he excitedly asked.

I blinked, a little stunned, I knew that the scent neutralizer was effective but I hadn’t expected it to be able to disguise my species. A grin popped onto my face, apparently my secret was going to be safe for a little while longer. This could be fun, “It’s a family secret,” I fibbed, “My name's Jessica, and I think I’ll just let you keep guessing what I am.”

His jaw dropped, “But that’s no fair! I told you what I am,” he whined.

My eyes twinkled, “That’s your own fault, besides it’s more fun this way.”

He placed his hand under his chin before giving me a very obvious look up and down, “Hmm, well your traits aren’t immediately obvious, no fangs or claws, no colored hair or pointed ears. You have shoes on so I can’t tell if you have six toes on your feet. Huh, I’m stumped. Will you tell me if I at least guess right?”

I looked him over, thinking of how his whole personality seemed to remind me of a hyperactive puppy and shrugged, “Eh, sure. Why not.”

“Sweet. So what track are you planning on taking?”

Track, I briefly wondered before remembering that the classes here were organized into career tracks, “Healing. What about you?”

“Magical Construction. I’m going to be my clan’s Builder. Hey look at that ward scheme!” he exclaimed excitedly, catching sight of the runes etched into my door lock, “That’s totally awesome! You got to show me what it does.”

“Electrocutes burglars,” I dryly replied.

He looked even more impressed at my answer, “Wow that’s way more advanced than anything I’ve learned so far. Why do you want to be a Healer anyways? You’d be awesome as a Warder.”

My mood quieted and so did my words, “I have someone I need to heal.”

Realizing he’d obviously struck a nerve, he backed off, waving his hands nervously, “I’m sorry! I’m sure you’ll be just as good a Healer!”

I cracked a grin at his antics, “It’s fine, you couldn’t know. And,” I imitated my friend Shelley’s hair flip, “I am good at runes.”

His grin came back, “Cool. Hey, do you want to grab some grub together? It’s just about time for lunch.”

“Sure,” I thought, glad I’d seemed to have just made a friend, “Let me just lock my door.”

Lunch was fun, filled with jokes and shared stories of our previous lives. I learned that Miguel, last name Teros, was from Columbia, had a very large extended family, loved to eat crab, and played soccer. We looked over each other’s class schedules and found out that we would be together in Runes, Biology, Mind Magics, and of course Self-Defense. Our classes were each two hours long and spread out in a block format Monday through Saturday.

After lunch we wandered around the school, with me pointing out the main features and spending much of that time in what I called the Ever-green courtyard and the Library. I picked up a healing book that compared the various magical species to take back with me when we finally headed back to the dorms.

* * *

Entering Self-Defense the next day, my first class at the Academy, I was nervous, especially considering the cold glare that had been thrown at me only yesterday by the instructor. Professor Abbas ibn Saab, one of the two African men I had seen yesterday, at least didn’t seem to treat me any noticeably differently as he ordered us into a similar series of tests that Leon had made me do only months before. Despite fearing my abilities, or lack thereof, were about to out me as a human, I performed a lot better than I expected. Probably thanks to my summer of intense training. Thus, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself falling somewhere into the lower-middle rankings in terms of strength and speed. After determining where we stood, the professor then divided us in half according to whether or not we had any prior defensive training. Here was where Miguel and I split up, as even though we were of similar rankings, he hadn’t been trained.

When I walked over to my designated side, I could see some of the vamps and lycanthropes of the group eyeing me, mostly in curiosity, but there were a few whose faces seemed to shout out that they had just discovered prey. It was one of these last that got selected to be my sparring partner.

“Hey cutie, are you sure you’re in the right place?” the western-style vampire taunted me, visibly running his tongue over his fangs.

Careful Jess, don’t let him get to you, you’re supposed to be playing meek. I let my nervousness show, “I know a little bit of self-defense.”

My little show seemed to please him as he flashed his fangy grin, “I guess we’ll just find out how much you actually know.”

“Begin!” Shouted Professor ibn Saab.

Fast! I thought as the vamp rushed at me, and I barely blocked his blow in time. And strong too, my arm was more than a bit numb from where I had deflected his clawed hand, but I didn’t have time to contemplate it as he began to rain a furious batch of blows on me. The next few minutes were hell and I no longer had to fake my panic as I barely managed to keep up. I thanked every deity I’d ever heard of that I’d decided to keep my heavy leather jacket on despite how much I sweat underneath it, because I was sure my clothes and skin would have been slashed to ribbons without it. I could tell he wasn’t even giving his all either, because as soon as he decided to stop playing around, he was behind me, with my one arm trapped against his chest and his fangs at my throat. From the corner of my eye, I could see the professor watching, but he made no move to interfere.

“I wonder what you might taste like, cutie,” he whispered.

Oh hell no! I panicked, and was glad it was my left arm that was bound, as I reached into my jacket and pulled out my revolver. A quick flick and the safety was off and then it was pointed at his now frozen head, “Back the fuck off.”

“So the cutie’s got a bite of her own,” he commented as he let go and slowly backed away, keeping his hands in sight.

“Enough!” Yelled the professor, “I’ve seen all I need to. Separate and go on back to your rooms to shower.

I eyed my opponent in front of me, “Are we done here?”

“Sure,” he shrugged with that shit-eating grin.

Wary but seeing no other choice, I flipped the safety back on and reholstered the gun, trying to keep him in my sight as I turned towards the door.

“Hey cutie!” he called, making me pause, “What’s your name?”

“Jessica Langden.”

“Jessica,” his voice seemed to caress the word, “I’m Peter Stojakovic. I’m looking forward to the fun I shall have with you.”

I shuddered and hurried out, knowing that as I did so he continued to watch me with that creepy ass grin of his. So much for lying low.

“Hey Jess! Wait up,” Miguel called from behind me, and I paused to wait for him, “What was up with all of that in there?” he demanded, “I mean you pulled a gun on him. I didn’t even know you had one. Are you even allowed to have one? I mean, a gun! Wow!”

“It’s not against the rules.”

“Well, cool, but what the heck did he even do anyways? I couldn’t see from across the room.”

“He thought it’d be a good idea to try and bite me in our spar. I refuse to be fang bait!” I bit out, still angry at the whole situation.

“Woah, that was ballsy of him. I mean, on the first day!” he exclaimed bouncing as he walked backwards so that he could stay facing me.

“You shouldn’t be surprised. He is a Stojakovic after all,” the Asian girl who interjected was petite, with a heart shaped face. Dressed all in whites and blacks, she wore a lacy wide scooped-neck shirt that prominently displayed the ring of red runes around her neck, short lacy gloves, and an even shorter, layered ruffled skirt that completed the look and was entirely inappropriate for the activities we’d just been doing.

“You mean there’s a reason besides that he’s simply an asshole?” I asked incredulously.

She paused to look at us, “You two really have no idea do you?” Obviously taking our clueless expressions as an answer, she continued, “The Stojakovics are the vampire family of Europe. They can trace their bloodline back to Vlad the Impaler. They’re practically royalty. All of the members are much stronger than most of the others of their kind too. He probably thought it was his just due to take a taste.”

Double shit, “Well he thought wrong. I’m no one's food.”

“Hehehe,” her laugh tinkled delicately from behind one hand, “Oh dear, we’re all food for someone. It’s cute that you think otherwise. So adorably naïve. I think I shall have to collect you.”

What the fucking hell, “Excuse me?”

She waved her hand airily in my direction, “Oh you know. Collectible, friend, it’s all the same thing.”

Was she actually serious? Damn creepy ass vampires.

“My name is Isra,” she pressed her gloved hands together and gave a slight bow, “And may I ask the name of my precocious new collectible?”

“Jessica,” I replied, completely baffled.

“Delightful. Well Jessica, I need to freshen up, so if we share our next class hopefully I’ll be able to sit next to you, otherwise I’ll see you at lunch.” and with that she flounced away.

“What the fuck just happened?” Miguel asked, looking like he’d just seen a UFO.

I shook my head, amused despite myself, “I think I just made a friend.”

I hurried back to my room to shower and redress so that I could make it to my next class. Hurrying into the classroom I looked around for Isra and seeing her beckoning toward me I hurried over. I didn’t get a chance to say hi as just barely after I’d sat down the Professor began speaking.

“Alright class,” the professor clapped her beribboned hands together, “My name is Adriana Ricci and welcome to Thread Magic. Thread magic is a beautiful magic that relies on the strength of your will and the invisible bonds that exist between all things. Using thread or ribbons or even hair,” she pointed to her elaborate braids, “or anything similar really, a thread mage can perform a number of different magics.

“For example,” she leaned forward to pluck a dark hair from the student in front of her, “I can take a strand of his hair and tie a knot in it,” she performed said action and caused the student to yelp in pain as he grabbed his leg, “and give him a charlie horse.” She untied the knot and released the magic bound within before smirking and continuing, “If your will is strong enough, you don’t even need a physical connection to a person to do that. Although the less of a connection that exists, the harder the magic is to perform and the more power it will take. Luckily however, you can use certain braiding techniques to store power for later use. You can also use braids and knots to store ready-made spells.”

She pulled a loose bit of blue ribbon on her arm and as it unraveled, a blue ball of energy collected in her fingertips, which she then casually tossed in our direction. We all ducked in surprise as the energy broke up and suddenly turned into tiny balls of water that harmlessly splashed everyone.

“Thread magic is used in healing, magical construction and technomancy. Advanced thread magic combines runes and weaving to create powerful lasting spells and clothes with unique capabilities. Now everyone, get out something to write with and note this down…”

The rest of the class was spent taking notes on the theory of thread magic and then we were set to practicing. Using just our wills and imagination Professor Ricci told us to make a connection between a thread and a frog. Our goal being to knot the thread and thus magically bind the frog from moving. After many frustrating tries, I finally managed this task by coating the thread with frog spit, then imagining and willing the thread to be linked to the spinal cord so that when I tied a knot, it paralyzed the frog. Apparently this kind of binding would be enormously harder and more complicated on a larger, thinking being, especially if they were magical and could thus oppose it with both their will and their magic.

Monday was a short day for me, with only the two morning classes, so once Thread Magic was over I was done for the day and headed down to lunch with Isra, chatting lightly as we went. As we got our food, I grimaced at her plate of spaghetti complete with a blood and wine sauce and the glass that contained fresh and steaming hot blood.

“Everyone’s food dear,” she reminded me with a small smile as we sat next to Miguel who’d held the table for us.

“If everyone’s food,” Miguel interrupted, “Then whose are you?”

“Me?” She tapped one finger gently against her chin, “Well I suppose someone must sit at the top of the food chain.”

“Ha! You’d only be good for the carrion crows!”

She looked peeved, “You know little fox, you probably wouldn’t taste any good, but I have no problem with feasting on you anyways.”

“You want to try it!” Miguel dared half standing over me puffed up in anger.

I so did not need this, “Hey guys, cool it . If you want to play who’s the bigger, badder monster that’s fine. Just don’t do it with me in the middle. Go do it somewhere else on your own time.”

“He might need to try and prove himself, but I already know where I stand.” Isra sniffed.

“Why I ought a…”

“That’s enough! Miguel, sit down already. Can’t you tell she’s needling you on purpose? And Isra,” I turned to her, “If you want to be my friend, as you said you did, you can try to get along with my other friends. Geeze, you two are like a couple of children.”

“Yes mom,” Miguel replied cheekily.

God, this was going to be a long year.

* * *

John Whitman, Director of the U.S Office of Paranormal Affairs sat in the guest stands of the North American Interspecies Council, seething at his inability to actively participate.

“I’ve had five of my people disappear traveling though the Ozarks just this past month. I want you to get your clans under control before we decide we need to take action!” The vampire from St. Louis wasn’t really upset at the loss of his men, he was more angry at the loss of his drug shipments.

“What proof have you that they were ever in our lands? Maybe they just decided they’d rather not work for you anymore.” The green-skinned representative of the Ozark Goblin Clans Collective smiled, showing rows of shark-like teeth. Everyone knew they had waylaid the vamp’s runners, the drugs they were carrying were considered valuable potions ingredients by the goblins and the fresh meat was just a bonus.

“It’s all so tedious, isn’t it?” the attractive blond haired woman seated nearby looked human, but he knew that looks were often deceiving and the likelihood of a human being here that he couldn’t recognize was pretty small.

“That’s not exactly the word I would have chosen,” he replied with cautious diplomacy.

“Yes, I’m sure it isn’t, but to me this is tedious. We all can guess what will happen. Clan Guerrero will come up with proof, the goblins will be forced to pay compensation, they’ll come to an agreement for future business and then everyone will be happy until the next situation.”

“They’ll be happy, but none of them even care that drug trafficking is illegal in this country.” he angrily replied.

“Illegal for humans,” she shrugged in clear dismissal.

“Yeah, for humans,” he agreed, bitterness lacing his tone.

“They all underestimate your species,” she commented, “You have such potential. It’s just a pity that it remains mostly unrealized still. Though, I wonder if that would change if the secret was ever broke to your magical nulls.” There was no visible change to her, but his danger sense suddenly screamed a warning at him, as she looked at him before gracefully rising to leave. She threw her departing words back to him, “Just some food for thought, Director.”