“I have no idea yet,” Timothy replied, expressing irritation about being pressured into being the next High-warlock by a random Gala and also accepting what awful deed he must do. He was no better than those Galas smuggling drugs because he was paying a high price to accomplish what he had to do. Taking a life—and for what—to be safe?

He was disgusted with this world and himself. His body shook with rage, Timothy swallowing a hard lump of reality literally facing him.

An awkward silence followed. Timothy tried his best to shrug casually, not sure where he was going with this: “What if I don’t want to be a High-warlock and do something else instead?”

Surprisingly, the wizard nodded and said, “It is your future. I respect a man who chooses his path in life. I just thought of asking since I know you must think every day about what to do. How much stress do you have with people tugging you from left to right, waiting impatiently for what you decide?”

Rising his eyebrows from the cunning or sentimental wizard, Timothy agreed dryly, “Yes, it stresses me out, but I try to live my life.”

Having had enough of the small talk, the wizard took a potion from his backpack and handed the boy a shimmering purple liquid. He winked, “I’ll throw in a free bottle. This substance will lessen your stress, and it’s been proven that whoever takes it has better life satisfaction.”

Anger rose inside the young warlock’s chest. He had hoped that people were nice because they cared, not to get something out of this kind gesture. Timothy cocked his head and surpassed the coldness by staring at the glowing bottle. “How much is it?”

“One hundred and twenty dollars!” claimed the seller. “Like I told you, I give you a free bottle.”

Taking the potion, Timothy studied it. “The stress is for real. Life doesn’t get any less hectic. I haven’t been able to sleep at night, and hell knows I need it.” He exhaled to calm his disappointed emotions. “Alright, let’s go to the door so we are out of earshot and exchange the potions.” He hoped this explanation to lure the wizard away would be a convincing lie.

The man stood up, grinning with delight and promising, “You won’t regret it, Mr. Watt!”

With a forced smile and leading to the small passage of train compartments, the young warlock was devastated at how easily fooled the wizard was for money. Glancing at the clueless humans to make sure they were minding their business, he closed the metal door as if sealing the Gala’s death.

On the bumpy tracks, the floor reverberated and shook under their feet. As the train crossed a railroad, its horn blared, and Timothy flinched from the sound. The hiss of the coals, the tires chugging along the rough metal, and the wind gusting from the bullet weren’t loud enough to drown out Timothy’s heart, which slammed into his chest.

His hand shook as he moved them to his pocket, flickering his saddened gaze away from the man’s excited stare that was lustful for money. Instead of grabbing his wallet with no money, Timothy grabbed the wizard’s shirt, the fabric balling in his fists, and the teenager clenched his teeth together.

Keeping his humanity, he let his thoughts repeat that he was eliminating a criminal, but the warmth from the flesh reminded him that this bad guy was still a living being.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Timothy. He waved his other hand, emerald sparks flying out of his palms. The door to the outside slid open, and using all his strength, he threw the wizard out. The guy screamed in terror, but only for a second before his head split open against a sharp rock.

The door slid back to a close, and he looked away with culpability. Texting the group chat that he took care of one of the wizards, anger swelled up over what he had done. However, before Timothy could devour the guilt of killing someone, an attendant in sunglasses peered through the glass at the other sliding door that led into the compartment.

His heart dropped into his stomach with dread because now there was a witness. He slid open the door, Timothy’s brain scrambling to come up with an explanation. As he tried to form a lie, the attendant took off his sunglasses, his pink eyes gazing back at the speechless teenager.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

There was no frisson to make sense, so the warlock had concealed his powers. Timothy swallowed a fearful lump and knew that the worst was yet to come.

The warlock leaned against the doorway with crossed arms. A calm demeanor overtook his complex as he stated, “When I saw Katerina, I should’ve known trouble would occur. However, I gave her the benefit of the doubt that she was traveling.”

He sighed. “I am dumb enough to think otherwise. Harmonies are trying to save the world, but here they are, destroying lives more than helping.” Shaking his head, he muttered, “And here to find Timothy Watt among the so-called heroes. What a disappointment.”

Taking out a walkie-talkie from his pocket, the warlock pressed a button: “Code red, code red, we got Harmonies up our asses.” A name tag for Captain Ford was labeled on his shirt. Ford flickered burning hatred at the boy and snarled, pressing the button again, “Code red, anyone read me?”

Timothy collected the little confidence he had and raised his head. “You see, Captain, we took out your whole team. They are dead.”

A grin curled on the captain’s lips. “Is that a threat, Mr. Watt?” He straightened his back and stared coldly at the boy. “I have humans on this train I could kill.” Seeing the teenager’s pale expression, he vanished in pink smoke before Timothy could stop him.

With no idea what the lunatic captain was planning, yet knowing nothing good, Timothy dashed towards the head of the train. He guessed the Gala would be presiding over driving the train and doing something horrible. He remembered Sara’s warning if he had any struggles using the red button, which he did.

With his heart racing and adrenaline kicking in, seeds of doubt spread through his body. Timothy burst through doors, unable to teleport because he had no picture of what the place looked like. Less than a minute later, he arrived at the front of the train. He saw the captain on the phone and grimaced when he noticed Timothy standing there like an idiot.

Magic burst out of Timothy’s palms as he didn’t waste another beat; it hit the other warlock. The captain stumbled back and dropped his phone. Ford braced himself but accidentally grasped a handle and pulled the lever down.

The lever was the emergency brake. Tires scraped against the tracks, sparks flew in every direction, and the train rolled to an unbearably loud metal-to-metal grinding stop like chalk on a board.

Timothy lurched forward to tackle the enemy; Ford dodged, and he hit a yellow button. A loud blaring noise of the train whistling nearly made him deaf. He reflectively covered his ears, since he had sensitive hearing.

“You bitch!” screamed Captain Ford. “You have ruined everything!” Grabbing a wrench from the train’s dashboard, he swung it at the warlock’s head. Spit came out of his mouth as he yelled, “Do you know how hard it is to be an undercover railroad system?”

Barely ducking down to miss the dangerous swing at him, Timothy was thinking that if he blasted his magic without aiming accurately, his powers might hit the dashboard and catch it on fire.

The captain hissed between his croaked teeth, “These potions weren’t harmful to humans, you cunt! We deserve our pay for curing cancer, healing wounds, and helping the useless piece of shit humans are! They should all die anyway! Your gang ruined our hard work!”

“If you were hiding and giving the potions to the humans, which did help them, why were you keeping that a secret? I don’t think the Choirs would actually mind it!” asked Timothy breathlessly, trying to buy time and continuing to fling away from the death throws at him.

Ford’s knuckles turned white from how hard he was holding the wrench. He gave another hard sway in Timothy’s blind spot. The teenager swirled around, not catching the tool that was going to shatter the back of his head into pieces.

A gunshot rang out, and a bullet jammed inside the captain’s head. Ford slumped to the ground as blood gushed out of him, the wrench clattering to the floor.

“Oh, thank you!” Timothy gasped, bending over in realization that he had almost died. If Kate hadn’t come to the rescue, he would’ve been gone.

However, his mind didn’t let him reflect on the gruesome fate he was about to face. Timothy blurted out as he recalled, “The captain was talking to someone on the phone.” Looking down at the smashed phone, there was no indication of who Ford was talking to. The young warlock feared the worst: “I think it might’ve been backup.” What else is the captain calling someone?

His suspension was correct when an explosion erupted. The Prowlers jumped from stupefaction.

“What was that?” Nathan rasped, craning his neck to see if the train had exploded. Even worse, the tires squealed in protest on the rails as the train started to move forward. Unless The Express was haunted, there had to be magic playing into this madness.

Scientifically speaking, cursing alleviates some stress. “Shit!” screamed Kate, feeling a tiny bit better about the situation. Her hazel eyes nearly popped out of her sockets as she stared horrified out the window. There was a huge, jagged gap in the wooden railroad bridge.

You can always count on Nathan to state the obvious. “They are going to kill us!” squeaked the Nephilim, going whiter than a ghost. “What are we going to do?!”

“We have to stop the train!” Timothy cried back.

“HOW?” yelled Nathan, his voice hoarse from terror.

The three clueless teenagers turned to their leader. Biting on her lips, Kate couldn’t breathe. She knew if magic was involved, there were more wizards in this. She replied with trembling lips as she tried to strategize something. “There’s no choice but to counter magic with magic.”