The snowy night felt somehow more hospitable than the warm bar had been. Mina paused, letting her shoulders slump and breath steam as she inhaled and exhaled, deep and slow and soothing. Mixed scents assaulted her; bitter spilled beer, cigarette smoke, exhaust fumes, christmas dumpling, and the ever so subtle tang of power. It had been stronger in the bar, with Professor Fazzio showing off his expertise, but magic was everywhere. Such was the nature of things.
She unlocked her familiar beaten van, thankful that she’d resisted drinking even on a friday night, and clambered in. Familiar musk, chemical smells of paint and glue wafted from the back, and the engine purred to life. It took a moment for her to parse the directions the Professor had scribbled down in his classic elegant writing, before rumbling through the dark snowy labyrinth of Ranelk.
Thankfully the police presence was obvious. One cruiser was leaving the backstreet as she pulled up, while another hummed outside the tall old building, headlights illuminating boarded windows and graffitied walls. A man, silhouetted by the light, flagged her down curtly, “Hey there- road’s shut. We’ve got enough problems- go around the long way.”
“I- I’m… I’m not…” Mina stammered as she hit the brake, then wound the window down. “I’m, uh, from RARC- uh, the- the Ranelk Anomalous Research Centre- well, the organization, not the place, we don’t have a main building yet, but- er, you called on Professor Fazzio with a magic problem? He sent me to help.”
The cop was a sparse man made bulky by a thick dark coat, with a sharp nose and peppered stubble peeking beneath his cap. He paused, trying to take measure of the brunette with her fuzzy fingerless gloves and holey METs cap. “Right. Got ID miss…?”
“Mina Roswell.” She fished out her purse, flicking past the old driving licence, past the monstrous mystic ID, and produced the RARC card to match her name. “Uh, so what’s up?”
His nose wrinkled, but he nodded and stepped back, “Right. Was hoping the old guy’d come himself. You know magic?”
“Yup.” Mina hopped out of the van, thick boots splashing in the slush.
“Name’s Liuetenant Danton. We got reports of disturbance. Turns out a bunch of kids broke into the old museum, fooled around, doin’ dares or such, freaked each other out a ton.” He trudged towards the car, where a cute female officer stood tense as a statue, one hand on her holster. “Chief’s taking the other three home, but there two are… um, more your expertise?”
Two half familiar kids were curled up in the backseat of the car. One was angular, tawny and small, wrapped in a mismatched jersey and foil blanket and stinking amulet. Dark hair fell around angry avian eyes, and she shifted as if trying to obscure the other.
“Oh,” Mina forced a smile, trying to remember their faces from class. “Diana’s delivery girl right? Thomson and… um… Madonna? I think?”
“Yeah, yeah, we know who they are.” The lady cop sniffed, her button nose quite red from the cold, “Question is what. Can you fix her? Turn that magic off?”
Mina crossed her arms and closed her eyes, tasting the air. It almost thrummed around the the griffin girl, but only a minor dying stroke of Veil ebbed from the mermaid. “Nah, no, she’s not under any magic- oh, so you’re a naga? I didn’t know.”
Madonna burst into tears and coiled tightening, prompting the smaller teen to snarl, rapping at the glass, “SHUT UP! At least get her some Veil, she’s freezing!”
“Behave, Thomson,” Danton grunted, taking a step back, “Fact is, we didn’t know either. No register. But you got any of that potion stuff on you, Miss Roswell?”
“Ah, Mina’s fine,” She blushed, frowning- weren’t naga’s broadly fine with temperatures? At least the more oceanic mermaids were. “Uh, I do have Veil. Yes. It’s in my van but…”
She wavered under their gaze, hesitating. The girl would probably be quite unhappy to suddenly be a teenage human boy without warning. And that would lead to more questions.
“It’s specially designed for me, sorry. I don’t carry other orders.” She tried to sound professional, clinical, like a doctor. She was the expert after all. “Are they under arrest?”
“No, no,” Danton bought it, running a hand over his head as he turned towards the dilapidated structure behind them. “Thomson’s a troublemaker, and no idea about the other, so just holdin’ till their folks come and get them- or until we sort this mess enough to move. You can’t magic change them or anything, can you Miss?”
“Uh, no. I can’t do magic.”
The female officer glowered at her, “Wha- but you said you know magic- you’re the Anomaly expert, right!?”
Mina blushed, hands sinking deep into her pockets, “Well, yeah. Theoretically I know plenty about magic. Just can’t execute it- I’ve got even less talent than the average joe, absolute zero.”
She wished she could sink into the ground under the weight of their stares. Why hadn’t the Professor come? He was the wizard! She was just the clean up crew, the fire extinguisher.
“Great. Well we don’t have time either way.” Danton grimaced, “Pierce, keep an eye on them- Roswell, come and listen, maybe look if you’ve got a strong stomach. You understand this potion business at least, right?”
“Yeah- yeah, my Veil knowledge is good.” Mina trotted to follow his long tense strides towards the dilapidated sandstone building lurking overhead, its fences and KEEP OUT signs half lost amidst snow drifts. A heavy set of doors were handcuffed closed by the handles, but disgorged a foul rotting odour that wrinkled her nose.
“There’s another… five or more. Injured humans but… out of their minds. Too many for us to handle. The kids claim they’re animals, pigeons, got doused in potion.” He clenched a hand to the door, wincing as a low gargling babble sound emanated from beyond.
“That can happen. Feral humans. If that’s so, we just wait a couple hours and they’ll turn back.”
“Yeah. If. If not, if there’s…. Half a dozen injured folk in there, even crazed, then we can’t leave them bleeding or at risk for that long- especially in this place. Sooner we figure that, sooner we can get ambulances, extra hands if needed to make sure nobody gets hurt.” Danton inhaled slowly, finding a key from his belt, “Can you tell the difference? Veiled or human?”
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Mina beamed, “Oh, yeah, easy! This is right up my alley!”
Somehow he looked more disgusted at the response, but hunched and gingerly unlocked the cuffs, pulling the door stiffly open. The stench of old black mould, damp and acrid detritus nearly made her retch as Mina breathed it in, catching a few threads of stranger scents. Sweet spicy incense, cinder laden smoke, tallow and grave rot, lily perfume, sour deodorant, sweat and iron blood, and the ozone chemical tang of Veil. Tohaken make, not Kingsley.
“GWUURGHHRWOOOUURGH!”
A wordless exclamation preceded the stumbling rush of a naked human, pale and wide eyed, towards them. Mina squeaked, hands rising to shield her eyes, or at least the man's decency, before registering that there might be danger here. Danton was faster, more decisive, intercepting the bullrush with a grab to the wrists and a kick at maimed ankles. The human tumbled to the ground, the cop on him even as two others, one stumbling, one crawling, lurched across the derelict lobby.
“Miss Roswell- can you tell!?” Danton barked, eyes wide, one hand reaching for his pistol.
“Oh. Yeah, don't shoot!” She stepped in, hands tensing and tendons popping as she braced herself, then reached out and… inhaled. Deeply, fully, through her nose and mouth, lungs pulling in and air, and with it, pulling in the magic. Diminutive ribbons of green light flickered off the feral man, before he spasmed and shook, teeth chattering, bare form shrinking, feathers bursting forth.
Danton stumbled back in disgust as she extended her hands towards the others, letting her head fill with the lightning zing of the magic even as pain blossomed behind her eyes. She heard the bodies drop, those two Veil’s broken too, and breathed quick and fast, trying not to ruin her own Veil- she liked this outfit! Even still, her ears tingled, her eyes burned, and her scalp ached as two caprine horns burst through the holes prepared in her Mets cap.
“Roswell- you okay?!” A shaking hand on her shoulder. She flinched away from the cop, blinking as the energy died down, and found a wider perspective to her vision that showed three confused tired pigeons on the floor, and a fearful officer staring at her.
“It’s fine.” Her voice was deeper, more growling, and it took effort to imitate her usual tones. She could tell what he was staring at- the sharp teeth in her jaw, the blue goat-ish eyes, the floppy ears and blunted horns piercing her METs cap, inhuman features twisting her feminine form. “I’m fine.”
“What? What the hell was that?! I thought you couldn’t do magic!” He snarled, rubbing his brow anxiously.
“I can’t- that wasn't magic.”
“Uh- yeah, I think you can- you just turned three freaks- three… things back into pigeons! How is that not magic!?”
Mina shrugged sheepishly. “It’s not. Uh, literally, it’s cancelling the magic. Draining it away. I can’t cause anything, just… turn it off…. Sorry.”
He sniffed, eyes narrowing. “You should’ve said that from the start- and what about… that? What’s going on with your face?”
“I… accidentally broke my Veil too, so changed a bit. It’s extra strength, so it tends to last longer, but doing three at once was a challenge…” She licked her lips, feeling her familiar fangs nick slightly. He was angry because she hadn’t spelled everything out. “I’m, uh… you ever heard of a Leeds Pseudodragon?”
Danton raised an eyebrow, pulling a flashlight as he eyed the corridors warily, “Take a wild guess.”
“Right, well… uh, I guess our common name is the Jersey Devil- but if we’re not in Jersey it’s a bit weird-”
“You’re not in leeds either.”
“Fair. True. But it’s not as in the place, but Amadeus Leeds was an early mage among the pioneers back in the 1700s that got involved in this effort to ascend by mimicking the dragons capacity for innate magic. Of course humans have some, otherwise there wouldn’t be so many prolific mages, but the dragons are notable for having immense innate magical potential, which is why they’re often used for- uh… spells ingredients…” She wavered as he looked at her, and she swallowed, “Uh, so long story short, they failed, my ancestors didn’t become dragons, we became creatures with… negative magic, effectively. We’re unmagical.”
Officer Danton processed this slowly, then wheeled his flashlight across the room. “Can you do that again? Can we make sure there’s no feral… transformed pigeons running around town?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s not dangerous to me. Can’t really turn it off, honestly. But, uh, if I turn into a… Jersey Devil, it’s still me, okay? So don’t freak out. My Veil’s in the van.” She flinched at the pattering of footsteps above, and tried a reassuring smile. “Also, it’s Mina.”
Danton did not seem reassured by her pearly whites. But he marched onwards quietly, one hand free, while her ears twitched and stomach turned at the wrecked… museum? They passed maps, old articles and shattered glass, muddy boot prints and broken timbers, before they came on another shambler. This one was bloody, one leg missing entirely, the stump twisted and bare, shards of glass catching in her arms as she whined.
“This is twisted.” Danton grimaced as Mina reached out once more. The creature gasped, choked and screamed as the flesh and bone restructured, folding inwards and smaller, to a tiny weak pigeon, barely a mouthful to eat.
“It’s weird.” She agreed, “I don’t… understand why. Why feed them Veil? It’s not cheap.”
He pursed his lips, examining the way up some old creaky stairs. “The Thomson girl. That’s my bet. She’s not human, not inside.”
“Well, yeah. She’s a griffin. Delivers Veil too- but this isn’t Diana’s magic,” She mused, “There’s a Tohaken kid though, right?”
“Right. Yeah, well… I figure maybe she wants to practise hunting. Heard some creepy stories about even human kids doing crazy stuff to animals, swap that out for a predator creature, and… maybe she wanted bigger playthings.” He considered.
“Hmm. Maybe. Doesn’t feel like griffin hunting grounds though- I’ve seen her in the air, graceful flyer, very quick. Not suited for indoors.” She climbed up the stairs, adding, “Even mine would have a tough time with these little corridors.”
“Hmm. Well, teenagers aren’t the brightest.” He overtook her again, winced at a knocked over mannequin and then paced onwards. “Thankyou, by the way.”
“Hm?”
“Coming out on a friday night. Holiday season. We’re kinda out of our depth here, and… yeah, just glad we don’t need to restrain these things, got enough on our plate already.”
Mina nodded quietly, opting not to mention she hadn’t really enjoyed the bar all that much. They passed some mannequins and she drained a fourth, wincing as the effort let fur sprout in some areas, nails curling into claws on stubbier hands. Other pigeons cooed and circled, fluttering between rafters and broken tables with lovely coordination as they welcomed their confused comrade back into the flock.
Heavy footsteps ahead warned of the last of the feral humans, and Mina cringed at the volume. “Urgh, that’s… more than one. Think you could space them out for me?”
Danton froze, staring at a corner.
“Danton? I… uh, not sure I can handle several- hey?” She grabbed his shoulder, wincing as he startled.
“Sorry Roswe- Mina- what? Did you hear that?”
“Yeah, there’s two or three more.”
The man wiped sweat from his brow, eyes flitting through the darkness, “No I… thought I heard something. No. Uh. Right- you… can’t you just… um… prepare yourself if you’re going to change?”
“I could, but I’d really rather not change in a spooky old house if it can be helped.” She sniffed, but unzipped her coat to be safe, “It’s… a bit personal, you know?”
“Why? It’s you, right? And you seem like one of the good ones.”
“It… is. But… yeah… it’s not my preference.”
Danton wavered, then stepped forwards, “Alright, just grab ‘em?”
He didn’t have more time to plan before a surprisingly tall human charged from the room beyond. He bowled over with speed, even as Mina inhaled, and she found herself on her back, arms scratching at the human as he dwindled, twisting and distorting in her grasp. Within a couple of moments, her fear ripped the feathery flesh apart, and she shoved herself upright to see Danton struggled to hold two others back.
Another breath and another. Her own muscles strained, something slithered down her back, shoulder blades clenched and flexed within her shirt, and small digits tickled her nape. Mina grimaced as she felt her face lengthen, nose growing all the more sensitive to the stench that pervaded this place. Then it stopped.
The tenuous scraps of veil kept her humanoid. A beastly, almost satyr-ish humanoid, certainly, but still within her clothes, she noted thankfully. Just a freak.
“”You alright?” Danton queried nervously, gaze averted.
“YeeEEEeeSS,” She struggled to speak with throat and jaw so distorted, but like with her true form, she could at least form rough words. “DooOOOooonNNe?”
“Think so.” He combed the other side rooms quickly, returning with a bag and a dented metal bottle that stunk of Veil. Then, noticing her struggle to even stand, he offered a shoulder and helped her awkwardly limp down the stairs, kicking off shoes to let hooves bite into the cold snow.
There were more cars outside by the time they emerged. Another police car with an old chap in a stetson speaking urgently to a moustached brick of a man, and a chubby blonde fellow, their cars pulled up close. A few eyes flicked in her direction as she hobbled past, back to her van, back the familiar scents, to the models in the back, and to her Veil.
It burned on the way down as always, stifling away the nonhuman features, the hair, the beast, to leave her chilly and fair once more. Danton cringed but stuck close, setting her boots close before he took another glance over his shoulder.
“Thanks for that, Mis- Mina.” He breathed, “Just one more question. That guy, the blonde one, glasses. He using Veil?”
“Yep.” She didn’t think twice as she pulled her boots on and fixed her cap. “By the way, am I getting paid for this?”