“You knew my parents?” I breathe, momentarily forgetting my situation.

“I did. Quite well, in fact,” he says. “My name is Waldon Lewis. I am a witch, just as your parents were. It’s one of the five orders in Aurelia.”

“And by ‘witch,’ you mean…”

“We do magic, yes,” he says. “I knew your parents through the Council. I am a high councilor, you see.”

I give him a blank look.

“Meaning I’m a member of the High Council. It’s the governing body of Aurelia,” says Waldon. “We enact legislation. The Aurelian Services Agency—” he gestures around us “—enforces said legislation.”

“So my parents were high councilors as well?”

“Not exactly,” says Waldon. “Your father did work for the High Council, but in another capacity.”

“What capacity?”

“He was a different kind of agent.”

I open my mouth, but Waldon holds up a hand. “It’s difficult to explain, and we have more pressing matters at hand.” His voice is gentle but firm. “Now, please tell me where you were and how you managed to get to Aurelia.”

I hesitate, unsure whether I ought to confide in him.

“You can trust me,” says Waldon, as if reading my mind. “It’s important that I know the full story.”

I nod slowly. It’s a bit late for secrecy anyway. This man already knows who I am. Maybe if I cooperate, he’ll explain what happened to my parents. So I tell Waldon about the community home I grew up in and the man who attacked me and gave me the chest with the dust and the book. I leave out my parents’ letter and the other items. Though the man claimed he could be trusted, I don’t know him and see no reason to overshare.

“A vampire tracked you down?” says Waldon, eyes flaring.

“Yes.” I explain to Waldon what happened. “But then I managed to escape with the chest. He fell off the fourth-story roof and snapped his neck, so he’s probably dead. Or maybe the sunrise got him later.”

“That’s a myth. Sunlight won’t kill a vampire, but it does cause them immense pain,” says Waldon. “A broken neck would have killed him though, just as it would anyone. How did he fall?”

“I used the dust on him,” I say.

“Ah, Forget-Me Dust,” says Waldon. “Quite clever. That will have been Wendy’s idea.” Then he reaches for the bound black book. “And this will have been Arthur’s.” He sighs. “Well, this solves one mystery. This particular item was stolen from the High Council fifteen years ago.”

“It’s what brought me here.”

“Yes, it’s called a flashport. They provide entry into various public points around Aurelia. But they’re illegal, because they allow one to bypass the border that encircles Aurelia.” He sets the book down, his stunned expression mirroring my own. “Quite meticulous planning on Arthur and Wendy’s part. They covered all the bases. These items would have allowed you to return at any point if and when you were ready.”

“But why?” I ask. “Do you know why they chose to have me outside Aurelia?”

Waldon doesn’t answer immediately. When he does speak, he appears to be talking just as much to himself as to me, as though trying to intuit for himself the reasons behind my parents’ actions. “I believe I do. You see, a few weeks before they died, the NIA received word of a prophecy about your family…” He pauses. “It predicted their deaths.”

“The NIA?”

“The National Intelligence Agency,” says Waldon. “It’s a special branch within the High Council. NIA agents work on cases outside the scope of regional law enforcement—threats to national security and high-profile crimes, for instance.”

I nod my understanding.

“Now, the public knew Wendy was pregnant,” continues Waldon. “But after her due date came and went, your parents claimed they lost the baby. You. They told the Council you were stillborn. I imagine they did what they did as a precaution, so that your name would not appear in the Aurelian Birth Registry.” He gestures to the large, worn book on the table.

“But my father worked for the High Council,” I say slowly. “Why didn’t he at least tell them that I was alive somewhere?”

“I think Arthur and Wendy felt uncertain who to trust,” says Waldon. “They did not want to take the chance of entrusting such delicate information to the wrong person.”

“Before Clem tried to kill me,” I say, “he said something about…. someone getting blamed for my parents’ deaths. Do you know what he was talking about?”

“Blamed,” scoffs Waldon, before pursing his lips. “Riley, the man who killed your parents is named Hodge Davis. He was the caretaker at James Manor.”

I blink. “The caretaker? But why would he kill them?”

“Hodge was mixed up with the wrong crowd. His family had a reputation. One day, Arthur caught Hodge’s brother, Slater, selling illegal poisons and had him arrested. Hodge wasn’t happy. He poisoned them in retaliation.”

A sudden tidal wave of emotions threatens to overwhelm me. This man Hodge is the reason I’ll never meet my parents. The reason I grew up in a group home and felt abandoned all my life. The reason I spent fifteen years thinking my parents were awful people. And… for what? To avenge a criminal?

Even if Hodge was angry about his brother’s arrest, wasn’t murder still a bit of a… well, overreaction? Why not just quit his job? Cut ties with my parents? Or, if he really wanted to be petty about it, ruin their hedge? Why did he have to kill them?

“Is Hodge a vampire too?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice even.

“No, Hodge is a werewolf,” says Waldon. “Which is why I’m rather perplexed that it was a vampire that tried to kill you. Vampires usually stick with their own. They’re quite dangerous, and so, forbidden from leaving their region in the Shadow Canyons, per a pact with the Council… the only exception is when one comes from a mixed-order family.”

“Where are the Shadow Canyons?” I can only hope it’s far from Skeleton Grove.

“In the north, just beyond the Craggy Mountains,” says Waldon. “Each order has its own region. Witches reside in the Misty Moors, werewolves in the Marshlands, and harpies in the Ravenstone Peaks.”

“Clem said he wanted revenge. The way he talked… ” I say. “He thought Hodge was innocent.”

Waldon sighs. “There’s something you need to understand about werewolves, Riley. They can be rather volatile, and their bite causes temporary paralysis. It’s best to stay wary of them. At times, they can be downright violent… similar to vampires. You should have seen the riots after Hodge was arrested.”

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“Riots?”

“Riots, protests—people can call it whatever they want.” Waldon waves a hand. “It was an insult to the Council, is what it was.”

I open my mouth—

“We don’t take murder accusations lightly, you know?” says Waldon, though he doesn’t seem to expect an answer as he rants on. “We investigated thoroughly, of course—the evidence against Hodge was overwhelming. Unmistakable. But even still, the werewolf community continues to deny the reality of the situation, ignoring all evidence, all facts… choosing instead to question the Council’s integrity.”

I inhale to try again—

“They keep insisting he didn’t do it—that he was framed, and that the Council—” Waldon breaks off, shaking his head as though the criticism is too blasphemous to even repeat. “But this time the Council has given him the best defense possible, which should lay any lingering doubts to rest.”

“You mean the trial isn’t over?” I ask, speaking quickly while I have the chance.

“He keeps appealing,” says Waldon. “But he’s on his last one now.”

I nod slowly, fighting to keep my composure despite the raging storm rising inside me. This man took my parents from me. My parents. Aurelia. My entire heritage. And yet, he has the audacity to appeal his sentence.

“Well, I think that’s enough for today,” says Waldon, before looking back at the paper in his hands and shaking his head. “It is truly quite lucky I was here. Had the Registry Department been left to their own devices, you would not have been in Aurelia much longer.”

My heart lurches as I’m dragged back to the present. “So I can stay? Even though my name isn’t in the Birth Registry?”

“I’m afraid that decision does not rest with me,” says Waldon. “You see, only those born in Aurelia are able to do magic. So even though you were born to two witches—”

“—I’m not able to do magic,” I finish, my voice hollow.

“Correct. And as you’ve probably already noticed, Aurelia isn’t like the rest of the world. In a country where everything from its ecosystem to the economy revolves around magic, it would not provide a very good quality of life for humans. Particularly when you consider the surplus of magical monsters living here. The very landscape is embedded with magic, and dangerous in its own right.” He pauses. “It’s why the humans must go through an extensive registration process to enter the mainland.”

My eyes widen. “But then, there are people here who can’t do magic?”

“Yes, but only those born in Aurelia, belonging to the Human Order,” says Waldon. “For their own protection, the humans live with their own kind on an island off the coast where the concentration of magical energy is lowest. They must obtain visas if they wish to come to the mainland for any reason, such as work, and need a sponsor with magical ability who will take responsibility for them while they are here, to look out for their safety.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Now, I believe that ought to help you understand why the Council must enforce such strict policies surrounding noncitizens, correct?”

I stare. Does he actually expect me to respond with an affirmative? Magical ability or not, Aurelia is supposed to be my home. The place where I belong. Is he really going to just step aside and let whoever makes these decisions send me away again?

But he doesn’t wait to hear my opinion.

“Speaking of which,” he continues, holding up the black book again, “I’m afraid I will need to confiscate this. As I said earlier, in the wrong hands, this book could cause a national security breach.”

Mutely, I watch him pocket the book, feeling my heart vanish with it, my hope. If they deport me—and they probably will—I’ll have no way of ever returning to Aurelia.

Anger worms its way into my pores, and I shout curses at Hodge in my mind.

“Who gets to decide if I can stay?” I ask, throat raw, tight.

“The Witch Elder,” says Waldon. “He would need to grant an exception.”

“Elder?”

“The Elders are the founders of Aurelia… there are four of them, one from each of the magical orders. They oversee matters pertaining to their respective order.” Waldon finally seems to take note of my despondency, and his expression softens. “I’m sorry, Riley. I know this isn’t the news you wanted to hear. But unfortunately, the law is the law.”

I say nothing. Law or not, it doesn’t feel right. Even though I wasn’t born in Aurelia—hadn’t even heard of the place until a day ago—I have ties to it. A connection through my parents. Hell, I even own a house here. It’s a murder house, sure, but a property I’m entitled to nonetheless.

“Now then,” says Waldon, pushing back my belongings, “we’d best be on our way before Agnes has another fit.” He winks, as though trying to coax a smile out of me. I refuse to oblige him.

“Where are we going?” I ask dully, packing my things into my rucksack.

Waldon raises an eyebrow. “James Manor, of course. I will arrange a High Council meeting for tomorrow morning to discuss your situation. In the meantime, I thought you might like to spend some time at your family home. You ought to be fine for one night.”

My fingers tighten on my bag. “Um… about that. I’m pretty sure it’s haunted. I mean, it is haunted—it’s full of these—well, I’m not sure what they are, but they have lots of sharp teeth—”

But Waldon cuts me off, waving a hand. “Ah, those are only household pests.”

I stare. He knows I’m not talking about mice, right?

“Abandoned dwellings tend to turn into breeding grounds for them,” says Waldon. “Common nuisance for people returning from holiday. I’m sure James Manor is crawling with them after being uninhabited for so long.”

I blink. Nuisance isn’t the term I would use to describe what is obviously a deadly threat. Would he call a mountain lion a nuisance too?

“You needn’t worry,” says Waldon, with a smile I don’t find at all reassuring.

Maybe he just wants me dead. That’s it. National security problem solved.

“We’ll have Beast Control come out,” continues Waldon, standing up. “Until then, there’s an easy remedy.”

Waldon turns to the armchair from earlier, where a pile of papers still lay scattered about. I catch sight of a newspaper headline that turns my blood cold. FIFTH DISAPPEARANCE THIS YEAR. But before I can read the caption beneath, Waldon stuffs it into his briefcase.

We find Agnes pacing outside, muttering to herself.

As soon as the door snaps shut behind us, she whips around. “About time,” she says, her shrill voice following us down the hall.

As we pass an open doorway, I spot Euston, hunched over a cluttered desk, placing what looked like earplugs into his ears. “I’ve had enough of you Councilors barging in like you own the place, barking orders. This is—”

“Your department, I know,” says Waldon, turning to face the red-faced woman. “My sincerest apologies, Agnes. We are just leaving.”

Agnes narrows her gaze at me. “What about the girl? Is she a spy?”

I stare.

“I do not believe she is a spy—” Waldon’s mouth twitches slightly.

“She’s not an Aurelian citizen, Waldon,” says Agnes. “She will need to be deported per the long-held bylaws of your Council.”

“I thank you for reminding me of our own bylaws, Agnes. Your commitment to them is held in the highest regard amongst our members.”

Agnes stands taller and puffs out her chest.

“The High Council will have to evaluate this matter further before taking action,” continues Waldon. “In the meantime, I presume you will treat today’s proceedings with utmost confidentiality?”

Agnes looks affronted. “This department has never had an information breach while I’ve been in charge.”

“Very admirable indeed, Agnes.” Waldon gives her a small bow before crossing to open the door for me. I hurry into the hall, all too relieved to be leaving the Registry.

As Waldon follows me across the threshold, an alarm sounded above the doorway.

“WALDON! It is forbidden to take documents from the Registry’s Library—give them here! Give them here NOW!”

Waldon pokes his head back inside, “Not to worry, Agnes. I’ll have them back first thing in the morning.”

The door closes at the same time Agnes screeched again, “ALBERS!”

***

Waldon accompanies me back to James Manor, conjuring a container of food before he leaves and ensuring I’m wearing my FireEye. As it turns out, the flaming bracelet from the chest is more than a bizarre fashion statement. It’s actually intended to ward off house pests.

I step cautiously into the foyer before edging my way through the cobwebbed halls. It isn’t long before I have an opportunity to test out the FireEye. As I climb the stairs to the second-floor landing, a skittering noise sounds behind me. I barely catch a glimpse of something huge and scaly before it scampers off, half growling, half whimpering at the dazzling ring of orange-red flames blazing around my wrist.

I take refuge for the night in my parents’ bedroom. The monster that was in there earlier must have finally worked out the magic of a doorknob.

I examine the room thoroughly, waving my FireEye into the closet and under furniture. Once I’m convinced that nothing is lurking in the shadows, I settle into the window nook with a dusty blanket. I sit there for some time, wolfing down the food Waldon provided and watching as the gray sky turns grayer and eventually deepens into black.

A numb, empty feeling smothers me like a heavy blanket. It’s because of Hodge that I’m alone in my family’s manor right now. It’s because of Hodge that I might be deported tomorrow. I wanted to know what happened to my parents. I wanted the truth. But now that I have it… the realization of how different my life could have been…

I suck in deep, heaving breaths through my nostrils to force back the tears threatening to spill, stopping the rush of emotion in its tracks.

I doubt I’ll be able to fall asleep in a haunted manor, but exhaustion wins out in the end. As I drift off, too tired even to move to the bed, I become vaguely aware of a welcoming warmth and a soft crackling sound. My eyes flicker open halfway.

Flames have sprung up in the fireplace of their own accord.