11:15 AM September 13th 2026
The National Museum of Unnatural Science and History
The screaming and panic had finally died down a bit as he ushered people seeking safety deeper into the museum. He and his friend had rushed to the museum with all the other people fleeing the danger of potential monsters. Unlike those panicked patrons, Kyle had known that he needed to report in and start helping coordinate the evacuees from the park.
They’d fill the lecture halls first. Then the loading dock. After that, they’d started siphoning people into the onsite restaurant where a certain Viking-looking chef who couldn’t keep the blood off himself worked.
It had been a sketchy for a few minutes there as he was fighting his way through the sea of bodies trying to help sort order out of the chaos of the crowd. But they’d trained for this. Their boss had made sure everyone drilled on safety procedures. Kyle had begrudgingly come in on days the museum was closed for the boring emergency drills that made him feel dumb pretending that he was shouting at a swarm of panicked people represented in the drill by his vampire boss doing his best impression of a stereotypical yokel. Which felt suspiciously like the vampire being racist against humans…. Yet, he couldn’t help but admit, the training had paid off. Every employee who had participated in one knew what they were supposed to be doing.
Now that things had settled down, Kyle wiped the sweat from his forehead and leaned against one of the walls for support. After a moment, he decided that the adrenaline rush leaving his body had been too exhausting and he slid down the wall to rest and collect his thoughts for a bit. He’d go and report to the director that everyone had been settled soon enough.
No sooner had he taken a second to relax, than did one of the security guards come trotting up. She looked official and badass in her bulletproof vest with a radio clipped to it and her crisply pressed uniform. A gun was holstered on one hip, a wand on the other, as she came to a parade rest in front of him with her hands clasped behind her back.
She didn’t look at him, instead looking into the middle distance straight in front of her, which was somewhere through the wall above his head. Kyle had a great view of her set jaw as the perfect bun that stuck out under the back of her beret kept her hair from obscuring any part of her face. Yeah. She looked impressive as hell.
But Kyle happened to know that she was scared shitless of a certain bloody coworker.
“Mister Wattkins. I have been ordered to relieve you. The director has requested your presence.” Kyle tried not to chuckle. All the security guards in the museum were military personnel. They were here because magic was ‘dangerous’. And because if an artifact that the museum restored had military potential, then the military took it and it wouldn’t do for it to go missing before they had been informed it existed.
But the smart ones knew who Kyle was in relation to a certain famous Wattkins. This either meant that they were very respectful as they didn’t want to get known as that dumbass who fucked with the Harbinger’s kid and pissed her off. Or they sneered because they were disgusted that he hadn’t followed in his mother’s footsteps.
The profile article with its highly inaccurate description of Kyle’s actual career combined with the fact that it did not mention at all his position in the museum, had changed that somewhat. How it had done that and what they were thinking, Kyle didn’t know, but all morning long he’d been addressed as if he were a superior officer or a high-ranking civilian official. He wasn’t sure if he was being punked, or what.
“All right.” He stood with a groan. “He’s in his office?” The Magicorps soldier still wouldn’t meet Kyle’s eyes as he stood up in front of her. But she responded with the same precise and respectful tone that she and the others had been addressing him with all day. Which was, of course, the complete opposite reaction of every civilian who worked at the museum.
“He’s waiting for you in the foyer…Sir.” Oh, it had been slick the way she’d said it. If he hadn’t been sensitized to the way the lot of them had been behaving all day, he wouldn’t have noticed the slightly too-long pause that turned the ‘s’ in sir from lower to upper case.
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“Err. Thank you,” he acknowledged and began to walk away. She didn’t drop her formality but completed a precise about-face and took over observing the milling evacuees. This day.
What the hell was happening?
Kyle trudged wearily down the hall and back up into the foyer. It was darker than normal lit only by the yellow emergency magic-powered lights inside the building. The big glass windows that lined the Greek-temple-esque front of the museum had been blocked when the heavy-duty metal security shutters had come down. Glowing runes and enchantment etchings in gold and blue-green glowed softly on the metal of the many jointed rolling shutters.
The foyer was still in a slight state of semi-chaos, but the military security personnel were directing traffic. They’d managed to enforce order quite effectively under Mister Arcas' instruction. Maybe it was just the weird lighting combination of the emergency lights and the magical reinforcement on the doors, but Adrian Arcas almost looked excited by events. The vampire’s burnt umber eyes glowed more brightly than normal. As if he was on the hunt.
It's probably just because of the higher ambient magic density. Kyle reassured himself. But the slight twist of sardonic smile he always wore combined with the gleam of his eyes made the pale-skinned director of the museum seem uncannily as if he was enjoying himself. It didn’t help at all that the smoothly fluidic stalk of his normal walk looked like a hunter about to pounce at all times.
“Director Arcas.” Kyle called out to get the director’s attention over the hubbub of voices. The director’s keen pointed ears could pick out someone’s location in a crowd without error just by the sound of their voice. His head snapped around and his eyes laser-focused on Kyle, that slight twist of a smile cracking into a bright fanged grin.
“Ah, Kyle.” His accent was vaguely Eastern European but not distinctive enough for Kyle to ever place. But that was probably an effect of living so long and speaking so many different languages. Right? The apprentice warlock reflected as he edged along the wall while skirting the incoming evacuees. The director turned to one of the soldiers to give a few instructions before finding his own way to join Kyle.
“You have new instructions for me?” Kyle asked when they finally met. The director was still smiling, this time a bit sheepishly as he ran a hand through his jet-black hair.
“First, I wanted to let you know what happened. An unidentified source overloaded the city’s magic collectors.” He paused to let that sink in, his glowing eyes assessing Kyle’s response carefully.
“Overloaded the collectors? The city’s collectors?” That was…That was unheard of. “It would take a monumental magical event to cause that.”
“Yes. “I’ve received a message scroll communication from the FBI’s Magic Crimes Division, and they have identified the location of the event.” Kyle nodded as he heard that. The Magic Crimes Division was good. They would be on top of any situation like that.
“Good. Good.” Briefly, he thought about his older sister. Everyone in the New York office was probably working on this.
“You are either going to be very pleased with, or very upset with what I’m about to tell you next.” The vampire sighed, clearly pausing for time as he thought of the best way to present whatever he had to say. Kyle’s heart rate, which had finally calmed down after the initial emergency alarm skyrocketed back up again as his system experienced an adrenaline dump.
“What is it, Director?” His hands were trembling, and he tightened them into fists nervously. Had something happened to Samantha? No. Clearly, it wasn’t news of a death, or his boss wouldn’t think he’d be happy.
“They are requesting a consultant from the museum meet them at the scene and provide expertise when they approach the epicenter.” Okay. Kyle thought distractedly. That’s normal. The director and other senior staff often provided consultation services on various magical phenomena and artifacts.
“All right. What are your instructions for your absence?” It was a logical question. “Or will one of the other senior staff members be taking this request?” The director’s grin widened in a way that almost looked painful. Kyle was sure it would pain him if his teeth pressed into his lips the way the vampire's fangs indented his lips.
“I’m afraid that protocol dictates that in the case of an emergency, all senior staff on hand are to remain on premises until relieved by an appropriate security force.” He winced before continuing. “But, because of the unprecedented nature of the event, they’ve requested a consultation with the Archivist.” That was understandable. Arcas ran a pale hand through his dark hair yet again. It might have been a nervous tick?
“But I’m the only Warlock of the Archivist at the museum,” Kyle stated lamely. Once again, his lack of full Warlock Status was going to hold him back. They’d send the request to another location for consultation in favor of getting a fully licensed Warlock.
Disappointment flooded him and his shoulders slumped. He wanted to sink to the floor in despair and have a good, ‘I’m not crying there’s something in my eyes’ moment. The apprentice warlock didn’t get that opportunity though because the director started speaking again.
“And I told them that. But they aren’t going to wait for the next closest Warlock of the Archivist to arrive. They can’t wait that long. So, grab your stuff. You’re about to handle your first solo artifact acquisition.”
Kyle’s mouth dropped open in shock before morphing into a face-splitting grin. His heart soared, both with excitement and trepidation. This was it. This was his chance. This was the day he became part of history instead of just studying it.