Time felt like it was passing so slowly I could almost feel it, brushing past me like a biting winter breeze. I cast telekinesis and whisked the crossbow out of my father’s weakening grasp. I had long since gotten large enough that my father couldn’t take his anger out on me anymore, but the same couldn’t be said for my mother and sister.

I suppose I had just missed it. Or refused to see the occasional bruise on a wrist. My fault. My damn fault.

I still didn’t know what had happened though…. Wait. My mind, still ticking over in the Peace, pieced it together.

Nox had said that for Sorcerors, mana responds directly to their emotions, unlike us. He had said, I would have known sooner if I were a Sorceror.

The day the Johnson’s had been murdered, a similar mess had been in the living room. An emotional day. And for sorcerers, mana responds to emotion.

My sister was reading my book on mana. She had been trying to learn something.

A stress response. A stress response to my father. Presumably that was what had left my mother in her current state.

I walked forward, catching the crossbow as I reached the center of the room. I grabbed it by both hands, and staring at my father in his hate-filled eyes, I snapped it over my knee, and then dropped the pieces.

“ʄɨʀɛ”

The pieces melted in a green blaze.

I pulled out my phone, and rang Nox.

“Kid, what is it? Did you figure something out?”

“Nox, my sister just awakened. As a sorcerer.”

“Oh. I’ll send a team over.”

I grabbed my mother and sister, and walked them both outside. I sat them down on the bench I had used when hiding my smoking for years, and tore a piece off my uniform to make a bandage for my mother. She was in shock, so I also put what was left of my uniform jacket around her. And a quick temperature control spell, but on the sly.

After a few minutes of silence, broken only by the occasional sob, and the lighting of a cigarette, Nox’s crew arrived. Paramedics took everyone else away, while the transmutation guy did the repairs.

Nox was there as well, just sitting beside me on the bench, as I gazed up at the stars.

“What’d I miss, Nox? How come I couldn’t see it? Was it just chance, or was I too afraid to look at the truth?”

He stood, and then turned to face me.

“The only one who can answer that is you, Charlie. But knowing what I do, and seeing the choices you made, I think you did the right thing. It is not our past that defines us, but the actions we take in the here and now. At least, that’s what I think.”

I’ll be damned, if the bastard wasn’t good for some kind words when you need them most. Might just be damned anyway.

All my magic and I couldn’t fix one broken home. Cruel, isn’t it. Like a bad joke.

Well that wasn’t my job. My job was to keep this city safe, and I damn well would.

I went into the restored house, and grabbed a winter coat. It didn’t matter which one. I walked out of the house, intent on looking for trouble.

Nox fell into line with me as I walked, our trench coats matching almost comically.

“If you head out into the night right now, you’ll end up either killing someone or more likely yourself. I know a place that’s good for times like these.”

He grabbed me by the shoulder, and reality bent. I took a couple of steps forward, intent on hurling, but the sensation vanished as quickly as it came. I stood up, and what I saw was temporarily enough to still the knife twisting in my heart.

A bar, the likes of which I had never seen before. Lights floated and danced, mirroring people dancing on a dance floor in one corner. The place was made of oak, the bar, the roof, the walls.

A cornucopia of species were present, some I had never heard of. Nox guided me to a corner where Jim the Gnome was sitting, sipping from a half empty glass of blue liquid, and toking from a hookah.

“Well dere boyo, aren’tcha a bit young ta be in the Wicked?”

I sat down on the leather chair opposite Jim and sighed.

“Ach I’m sorry dere lad, one o’ those days den?

I nodded.

“Something like that, yeah. Nox figured it was better that I end up here rather than jumping off a bridge.”

“OI, Jakobs, get the lad a Leprechaun’s Smile.”

A guy with the head of an elk, antlers and all, appeared beside us, tweed vest and rolled up sleeves displaying massively bulging muscles as he polished a tankard.

“Seamus you know I can’t make one without a leprechaun’s gold, unless you’re willing to help.”

His voice was a deep and smooth baritone.

“Yeah, no bother dere, the young fella needs one.”

Jim rubbed his hands together, and a pair of coins fell out. I picked one up and it was embossed similarly to his ‘card’ but his face looked older, a stern look on its face, and ancient celtic knotwork embossed all over it, replacing the other details.

Jakobs picked up the other one, nodded at Jim, and headed back towards the bar.

“So, should I be calling you Jim the leprechaun in my head?”

He smiled.

“Nah lad, sure gnome is what I am, just a rare breed’s all. I keep it on de down low cuz we get hunted fer ar gold, ya get me?”

Huh, apparently the leprechaun with a pot of gold myth was a true one too.

“Fair enough.”

Nox returned with a large tankard of something or other, and a few minutes later, so did Jakobs with a small shot glass full of fizzing golden liquid.

I downed it.

Nox winced, while Jim cackled.

“Yer a true Irishman lad, takin’ it in one gulp.”

That was the last thing I remember until I woke up the following morning, sitting on a chair in Nox’s office. I just knew one thing. I felt happy. Content, even. Then the pounding in my head kicked in.

Nox walked in, and seeing the look of pain on my face, smirked and cast that same restorative spell, and my hangover was gone. My faith in magic had been instantly restored, along with the need to get my hands on that spell redoubling.

But I still felt the sense of contentment. Then I felt my ear trying to be torn off.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Reaching up to my ear and grabbing the now wriggling object, I lowered my arms to see what looked like a cross between a chameleon and a weasel.

“That’s a Chemist Lizard kid, you really made the most of that Leprechaun’s Smile.”

I looked at him, and then back to the lizard.

“Nox, what the fuck?”

He actually giggled.

“So Leprechaun’s Smile has an effect on Luck. Like, it actually makes you luckier for the next few hours. So don’t worry, you didn’t get up to anything embarrassing, or if you did, no one noticed.”

“When we were stumbling through the streets after leaving No Rest For The Wicked, you encountered this little guy. I may have been slightly inebriated myself, and offered to do a Familiar Ritual on him for you. Turns out, drunk rituals work? Because he wasn’t on you before you woke up. Who knew?”

I sat there mouth agape, as the lizard dropped to the wooden floor, and grew….bark all over.

“Like I said, you made the most of that Smile, Chemist Lizards are very rare and highly prized. And good news, they’re pretty useful for Transmuters too.”

“My sister?”

“Getting training in controlling her powers, at a specialist division.”

“Mom?”

He sighed.

“She…. didn’t want to remember.”

“Good. And…. Henry?”

“Currently being charged with assault and assault of a minor.”

“Assault of a minor?”

“Charlie, you really think I’d let you into this world without checking up on you? We have diviners for that. I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

I rubbed my arms, the old faded scars starting to itch. Sighing, I picked up my new lizard-weasel companion, draping him across one shoulder.

“Gonna have to find a name for you, huh bud?”

It’s scales changed shade in a small patch on its head into a…. A red heart. Well I’ll be, that’s fuckin’ adorable.

“So you’re sapient huh? Well, I suppose that’s a bonus. So Nox, what’s next?”

He smiled, not smirked, or once.

“Back onto the beat for you Kid. Starting tomorrow. Get some rest.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure thing Old Man.”

I stepped out of his office, still content. After a few deep breaths, I headed back to the house. Not home anymore. Just ‘the house’. Heading into the shed, I gathered up the various notes and projects I had inserted into the stone wall, as well as disabling my alarm spell.

I did the same with the room I used to sleep in. That’s all it was to me currently. So, the question becomes, where the hell am I going to go?

I pulled out my manaphone and messaged Wiley.

|Yo, Wiley, you don’t happen to know anywhere I could stay for cheap do you?|

|Hah, nice one. Los Angeles, Cheap? You crack me up Charlie.|

|I’ve got pure azuralite to trade Wiley.|

|Next time, lead with that. I’ll make a couple of calls.|

A few minutes later I received an address. Getting there by Metro, I saw nothing where the place was supposed to be. Just a sullen grey wall. So, they liked their privacy, did they? I opened my magesight.

I saw an incredible amount of runes and drawings lining the walls, enough to give me an instant nosebleed with the amount of mana running through them. I was able to make out a doorway, though, with a keyhole shaped mana void in it’s center.

Walking up to this ‘door’ after turning off my magesight, before I had an aneurysm, I filled the ‘keyhole’ with mana, and was sucked through the suddenly appearing doorway. I couldn’t see anything through it, it was jet black.

All of a sudden I was in familiar surroundings. Specifically, No Rest for the Wicked. It seemed this was a true blue, ye olde, tavern. I walked up to the bar, where Wiley was sitting, smiling at me.

“Pretty cool, right?”

I nodded to the barkeep.

“Morning Jakobs.”

He nodded back.

“Morning Charlie.”

The look on Wiley’s face was worth every penny, even if I couldn’t stay here.

“Jakobs, Wiley tells me you have a room to let.”

“He tells me you’d be willing to trade for some azuralite?”

I pulled out one of my seven shards.

“How long will this get me a room for?”

He plucked it from my hands with his ridiculously muscled arms, and sniffed it.

“A year is the best I can do.”

I didn’t even have to think about it.

“Sold.”

So I settled into my daily life, walking the beat with Krix, learning the tricks of the trade, and just generally having a decent time of things.

For about a week.

A week after the whole ‘life changing event’, I was walking down a street with Krix, we were minding our own business, when I saw his fins expand again.

“Ֆԋɨɛʅԃ”

I hadn’t been sitting on my ass for the last week, but a week isn’t a whole lot of time to develop new spells. What I did manage to do was improve the Shield spell so I could control the radius and shape of the sphere, even to the point of including others inside it.

As bullets sparked off the side of the shield, Krix gave me a quick nod, and we both unholstered our guns.

Stepping out of a large armoured hummer was the biggest ork I had ever seen. His lackeys with the machine guns scared me a hell of a lot less than this guy. I did the logical thing.

“Sʅҽҽρ”

“Sʅҽҽρ”

“Sʅҽҽρ”

A twinge of pain in my head let me know I was chewing through mana rather quickly, casting that many sleep spells and maintaining the shield in non-standard form had left me at about half-gas.

The two mooks went down fairly quick, but the big fella just brought a fist up to his head, smashing through the orb like it was nothing. See? I had reason to be spooked.

The Bull Ork, because that’s what he was, an Ork that’s in the prime of his life, bigger, stronger and meaner for about 10-20 years, spat on the ground in front of us.

“Yew pigs dun disrespected my boys. Ai wan’ ‘em back, ‘r else.”

He raised a Warhammer in one hand and a machine gun in the other. Why did I capitalise Warhammer you ask? Simple. Ork Elder’s gave Bull Orks a weapon, usually a blunt one, that they have blessed so the Bull Ork could find their way in life. It was a whole culture/tradition thing, not important right now.

What was important, was that these Ork artefacts were highly traded in the black market, and between Ork criminals, because only Orks could use them.

So this guy was probably the local head of the Tuskers.

He was pissed that we had arrested his men.

And he had an artefact that could break through Mana constructs like they were made of tissue paper.

Hoooo Boy, here we go again.