A pretty girl, shorter and rounder than the others, appeared in my eye line the moment I left Simon’s circle.

She looked me up and down and said, “What are you supposed to be?”

I took a sip of pink water and pointed at Evan. “Guy in the sweater brought me in to fix the TV. I’m on my break.”

“I’m Denise,” she said.

I pursed my lips, nodded in what I hoped was a casual way, and said, “Timothy. Tim. You’ll probably call me Timothy. For some reason, people never just call me Tim.”

Denise said, “Okay” and just stood there, staring.

We stood in silence for a minute, so I said, “You’re still looking at me. I’m not doing anything, but you’re still looking at me like you’re waiting for me to do something. I just thought you should know; I can stand still for a really long time without doing anything.”

“Sorry for staring,” she said. “I’ve been around mages my whole life, so I’ve never seen a man who’s done actual work before.”

“So, you’re staring at me, waiting for me to do some work?”

“That would be awesome,” she said. “Can I watch you lift something, or dig a hole?”

“I feel like I’m digging a hole right now.”

“Everybody’s talking about you. You really had no idea you were gifted until just a couple days ago?”

“It’s true. Everything changed overnight. Suddenly, I have no idea who I am or who I’m supposed to be.”

“What do you want to be?”

“I wanted to be a badass wizard superhero like on TV, but it sounds like nobody really needs those anymore.”

“That’s really what you wanted? Fighting bad guys and saving the city?”

I said, “Yeah. I know you’re making fun of me, but yeah. That’s really what I dreamed about, all my life.”

“I promise, I’m not making fun of you,” she said. “And if you don’t know that, then… Sorry, I’m used to people knowing who I am, but you really don’t, do you? My mother is Cecilia Hardy, does that name mean anything to you?”

I shook my head. “Sorry. My dad hated magic and hero stuff. Lost his shit every time he caught me watching it, so I don’t have a lot of shared context with you guys.”

“I can’t believe I’m showing these to someone on purpose.” Denise pulled up a series of book covers on her phone projector, old-fashioned watercolors, all featuring a mother and daughter in 1950s clothes, posing in front of different exotic backgrounds.

“My mom was a kind of B-list superhero for a while, before it was a corporate or a government job. She retired when she had me and started writing children’s books. She’s written a whole shelf full of them now, with no end in sight. She owns a potion shop in town.”

“A potion shop? Is that even legal?”

“She got grandfathered in. Grandmothered, really. The Hardy Witches have been in this city since it was a horse trail.”

“I don’t know anything about potions. Do they really work? Like in the movies? I thought you couldn’t store magic in an inanimate object.”

“You can’t store magic in inanimate objects unless they maintain a tether to a living soul, but plants and herbs are alive. That’s what potion bottles do. They keep the ingredients ‘alive’ in a sense, so they don’t lose potency. But they wear off very quickly once you take them out of the bottle. That makes all potions temporary, and mostly harmless.”

“Plants can retain magic because plants are alive. Of course, they are. Why doesn’t anybody talk about this?”

She shrugged. “Alchemy is boring, and because it’s so temporary, there’s no money in it. Conventional drugs are more reliable, and they last a lot longer. I can give you a potion to make you taller or grow your hair out, but it only lasts for a few hours. We mostly just sell cosmetics and party tricks, mostly.”

“Can you sell me a love potion or a lie detector?”

“Sure,” she said. “I mean, no. I can make one, but I can’t sell you one. Those are both illegal. A lie detector is a privacy violation, and a love potion is really just a rape potion if you think about it.”

I spilled my drink and took an involuntary step back. “Oh god, no! I didn’t mean...”

Denise leaned forward and stretched her arms out like she was about to grab me to calm me down. “No, of course, you didn’t. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just reflex. A love potion is the first thing anybody asks for, and I’ve heard it so many times, that’s just the quickest way to shut it down. Sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“So, can you cure things? Can I use a potion to heal cuts or get over a cold?”

“A healing potion is actually one of the meanest things you can do to somebody. It only lasts for an hour or so, then the disease or injury comes right back. If you want real healing, you have to use more powerful magic - real spells, channeled through a person, and the process hurts like hell. Most healing magic is illegal, too, because it doesn’t always work like it’s supposed to. Neither does modern medicine, of course, but doctors have a trillion-dollar lobbying group, and most witches can’t even organize a potluck dinner.”

I wanted to ask, “Do potions work on demons?” but it seemed a little too soon.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

* * *

Denise said, “Your glass is empty,” and I spent the rest of the night following her around. She led me to the beverage table and poured three different kinds of sparkling stuff. There was a fierce etiquette to it. It was supposed to be really dangerous for people with powers to drink alcohol, so everybody just drank expensive flavored water in fancy bottles.

I picked my favorite, and she filled my glass. Then I got a whirlwind tour of the hors d’oeuvres. My father hated food like this, and the people who ate it. The caviar was disgusting, but I found delightful cheeses, crab puffs, and deadly little chicken livers wrapped in bacon.

Denise was breezing by the trays so fast, I barely had time to chew. At first, she said, “Try this” and offered me tidbits on a tiny plate. But after the first few, she just said “Open” and started popping things in my mouth.

Halfway through this high-speed buffet, Denise “accidentally” brushed my cheek with her hand. The contact with Evelyn had been mild, a faint trickle of emotion from a woman who hated me. Evelyn kept her power to herself, and my senses were new and numb. But I’d been taking in magic for days, awakened by the chair, responding instinctively to Lydia’s presence in my home. I was pumped like a balloon, and this girl was wide open.

Evelyn’s touch had been a snap in my mind. This was a gunshot. The world went gray, and the people turned into colors. Denise wasn’t holding her power back, she was pushing it, pouring it right down my throat.

I would eventually learn to fight intrusions like this, but today, I was flailing at the deep end of the pool. I couldn’t taste my own power, but I could feel it bubbling inside me, racing to her fingertips. I was sucking in magic so fast; it was causing secondary effects in the atmosphere. A breeze came from nowhere and blew a stack of napkins off the table. The guests all knew what was happening, and were trying really hard not to notice, as if this kind of thing happened all the time.

Denise took three steps back and apologized for touching me, but she didn’t look sorry. She didn’t look sorry at all.

* * *

“Denise, did somebody put a sign on my back? I’ve seen like three people look up at me, smile and look back down real quick. Is my fly down? Am I creating a scandal just walking around with you?”

Denise smiled. “You’re having a really good time at the party, and everybody can tell. Your aura is like… out to here.”

“My what? Oh my god, am I walking around with a giant magic boner? Can I turn it off?”

She squeezed my arm. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your aura is just… really bright. Unusually bright, especially for someone who just got here.”

“So why can’t I see it? Why can’t I see yours?”

“Takes practice,” she said. “Here, let me try something.”

Denise put two fingers on my neck and sent a little shot of magic down my spine. Something in my head went pop and everybody turned into colors again, but this time it lasted longer.

Denise was a warm amber glow on my left. Simon was teal. Evelyn was purple. Evan was burgundy. And what I thought was background light was actually coming from me, making shifting patterns on her face.

“I don’t know what kind of person you are,” Denise said, “but your aura is like white fire. You’re bringing in power and throwing off waves. It’s… beautiful, but there’s no way we’ll be sneaking off together. You’d be visible across a stadium.”

“So, what if I don’t want to sneak?”

Denise pecked my cheek, and both our auras went up a notch.

* * *

“So, why does my aura look so different? I guess it’s kind of like yours, but everybody else is just a soft glow. Can I learn to control this?”

“Everyone else at this party is a mage, or trying desperately to look like a mage, even the women. Their power is steady and predictable. They bring it in through discipline and concentration. Your power is different because you’re not a mage. You’re a witch, like me.”

“I thought witch was just the female form of wizard.”

“It’s fine to use it that way, but it also describes a way of using magic. Your body is male, but you use magic like a woman.”

“Is that good or bad?”

Denise gave a short, bitter laugh. “You’re asking the wrong person. I’ve fought so many battles over that, I don’t even know where to start.” She turned and took my hands. “You can do whatever you want, okay? But my advice? Do not let Evan get in your head. Do not join this program. They’ll see you’re a witch and try to train it out of you. Every spell will feel like writing with the wrong hand, but it’s the only way they know how to teach.

“It’s a crime the way witches are treated at this school. We’re treated like trash because how we cast is connected to how we feel. This tower was built to train steady, reliable casters who can punch a clock. You really think HDI wants to hire a mage who can’t cast under pressure because he’s having a bad day?

“Even the women in this program end up casting like men. I’ve seen it change their whole personalities, Tim. They come in as bubbly, excited girls and leave as robots in matching corporate suits. It’s a fucking crime. Please don’t let them do that to you.”

“So, what do I call myself? Am I a warlock?”

Denise made an exaggerated, “Ugh!” sound. “Please don’t ever use that word again. That’s another joke word, ruined by another shitty TV show, even worse than wizard. Witch is the correct term for men and women, but honestly, I wouldn’t use that either. It’ll just raise questions and make people look down on you. Just call yourself a mage, that’s a generic term that covers everything.

“Warlock has a totally different meaning now, thanks to some cheesy action show in the ‘80s. In modern times, a warlock is a poser who makes deals with demons to simulate real magic. Lowest of the low. Don’t ever call anybody that.”

* * *

“But if I’m not a normal person anymore, and I can’t just sign on the dotted line here, what the fuck am I? What am I supposed to do?”

Denise stroked my neck. “There’s a whole world outside the corporate system, Tim. I think that’s why Evan invited me tonight, to test you and show you another way forward. Damn decent of him, really. He obviously wants to keep you for himself, but he’s giving me a chance to poach you, and let you walk away.”

I had a million new questions, but the phone on her wrist went chirp and she dragged me to my feet. “We better start walking; we don’t want to miss the midnight ride.”

And then she was leading me away from the party, down the river, back to the Zone.

“Are you walking me home?” I said.

“Home? Wait. You live in the Zone?”

“Right on the edge of it, in those shitty apartments over there. The Zone starts at my sidewalk.”

Denise was stunned, obviously filled with pity for me. “Oh my god, you actually live there? Like, all the time?”

I nodded.

“How do you stand it?”

How stuck up was this chick? “Look, they’re not great apartments, but I’ve got lights and running water for god’s sake!”

“No, not the apartments. What about the nightmares? The Zone is haunted, Tim. Bluestar 7 killed a god less than a mile from here.”

“Right.” I nodded. “Arthur Walton helped take down Nergal. I walk in his footprints every day.”

“Jesus don’t say his name! You don’t want his eye on you, even if he is dead!”

“I’ve lived here for years, and he’s never bothered me. I don’t even mind the footprints. It’s actually kind of nice. No people, so it’s really peaceful and quiet at night.”

“Good god, you wander around here in the dark? Even gangs won’t walk around in the Zone anymore!”

“Well, sure, there are tradeoffs. Anyone who tries to move in commits suicide or runs away screaming, but it really does keep the rent down.

“I swear he’s never bothered me. I mean, I don’t sleep great when I’m alone, but I’ve never had nightmares. And I’ve never felt threatened here. I hang out in the footprints all the time. Some of them are deep enough, you can sit on the edge and dangle your feet. I walk around in them and listen to music.”

Denise was staring at me with her mouth open. “I don’t wanna freak you out, but if an evil god loved me as much as this one loves you, I’d be a little worried.”

No secret why he liked me. My grandfather killed hundreds of people for his government. My great-grandfather killed thousands. Nergal respects a good body count, so when a new Kovach popped up on his doorstep, he was expecting great things. I wish I had disappointed him.