Kyle the Apprentice Warlock

It was the clicking that woke Jones. But it was coming closer like a stampede of tiny little feet in high heels. It had been growing steadily closer and louder on the street outside then stopped suddenly. So, when the slumbering mage had finally forced himself awake enough to focus after an exhausting day, he wasn’t sure why he’d woken since it was now so quiet. Ugh. That was a nightmare. He stirred briefly before settling down into deeper sleep.

Kyle had left the herd of prisms on the street when he entered the locked building his apartment was located in. There weren’t a lot of buildings inside the grounds of Central Park, but the employee housing for the museum was one of them. His apartment was nice, and he dreaded ever leaving his job and needing to move. As he was currently an intern and not a regular employee, moving was probably more likely than not in the next few years.

Not only was the apartment close to the museum, but it was also surrounded by natural beauty and central to everything good about Manhattan. His best friend lived down the hall so late night hang out sessions didn’t require sleeping over somewhere or getting a cab home. The best part was that he was close to school, and his parents, and could help out with Anna still when they needed him to.

What was he going to do about Anna?

Mulling the question over, Kyle closed his apartment door behind him and headed to the kitchen. As the employee housing had been built by the museum it had magically powered emergency lighting crystals that cast a soft bluish-purple glow about the room. The blue was reassuring since the color of the emergency lights were Prometheus scale indicators and reflected the magic level outside.

Blue was the next level down from purple. If the ambient magic level was going down it meant that Sam and the F.B.I. had managed to secure the two magic emitting corpses. That was good. Dragon remains stuck around for centuries emitting high levels of magic the entire time. That property had made dragon parts a critical component in so many schools of magic. Enchanting, potions, technomancy, one dragon corpse was worth millions – no, billions – of dollars.

The same features that made dragons such coveted ingredients also made them dangerous to have around. Living dragons, not a problem. Heck, their bodies acted almost like natural magic collectors when they were alive, absorbing arcanes out of their environment. But once they died? All that magic started to release.

And that was the problem.

Their magic started to release upon death. Yeah, their corpses would up the local ambient magic levels, a lot. But it shouldn’t have been enough to overload a major city’s magic collectors. Strained the system, sure. Increased the local ambient levels. Absolutely.

The way it happened, though? No. That didn’t track with how dragons worked. It was almost as if magic had been sucked out of the dragon instantaneously. Enough magic to overload the magic collectors. Dragons needed a certain level of ambient magic to survive. The amount each dragon needed varied depending on different factors like age, variety, size, and whether they were in their natural form or shifted to a lower maintenance shape.

Old dragons, the ones with enough magic saturating their bodies to overload a city-sized magic collector wouldn’t be able to just wander around New York in their true form. Not without some kind of external magic source to feed on. Kyle mused as he puttered around the kitchen finding things to fix himself something to eat.

The power was still out but the backup runes in the refrigerator were functioning perfectly, and cool air greeted him as he opened the door. The glowing rune didn’t cast quite enough light for him to see everything he wanted, so he held up the glowing tip of his wand as he pulled out some leftover pasta, butter, eggs, and sliced mixed vegetables.

Kyle was afraid to try lighting the stove. It was gas and he didn’t know if there were any problems with the lines anywhere. At the moment he felt it was safer to avoid that because the last thing he needed was for his kitchen to blow up in his face. Instead, he went into his laboratory and grabbed the hot-cold  stone he used in potions and enchanting work.

A soft glow came from the Daedalus Industries logo on the side as he activated the stone’s heating enchantment. He set it on top of his kitchen counter and adjusted the heat before placing a sauté pan on it to heat. Once it was up to temperature, Kyle began tossing ingredients into the pan and pondered the question of the dragon corpse.

It had been in its natural dragon form. That form had been too big to fit in the truck without damaging it. Which meant that the dragon had died in the back of the Mountain King Movers truck while in a smaller form and reverted back to its full size after death. Something in that truck had killed a dragon.

Or someone?

He was making a carbonara, stirring the pasta with a silicone spoon and drinking milk out of the carton like a heathen. He smiled as he caught himself doing it. There wasn’t much milk left and he was planning on adding most of it to the carbonara anyways. No, that wasn’t the way it was supposed to be done, but desperate times, eh.

Something killed the dragon in the truck. Something sucked so much magic out of a dragon while it was in a truck that it wiped out the city’s magic collectors. Something triggered the dragon corpse to discharge magic at a much faster rate than normal. Whatever it was, Kyle was certain it would be found in the truck.

Was it a device? Or was it an artifact? If it was an artifact, it might be in the archive. Kyle glanced at his pact item on the counter. Just seeing it there was reassuring and helped calm some of the stirring anxiety he felt at the implications of his thoughts.

Not tonight. He’d look it up first thing in the morning. Still, a dead dragon was bad. The dragons might be fractious, but they didn’t respond well to the death of one of their own. Despite the contention between the various dragon nations, they always came together for something this serious. No one was allowed to kill dragons but other dragons.

“Well…?” Kyle paused in his stirring, “that could be exactly what happened…” But no. The facts just didn’t line up. That second magic source had been thrown into a building by extreme force. Could a dragon in a small form, presumably human to fit in, throw something that large through an industrial wall?

Probably not. Something drained that dragon in the truck which killed it and then discharged the magic it had accumulated so forcefully it threw the second magical source hundreds of feet through the air into a building. That had to be it. Kyle would stake his reputation on it.

With the food ready he activated the cooling feature on the hot-cold stone and cooled the bottom of the pan. Fatalistically, he touched a finger to the bottom of the pan to see if he was cool enough to not burn himself. Sam would shout at him for doing that every time she saw it, but he rarely burned himself. Which amused Sam anyways when it happened, and Kyle could heal himself so…

Sleepily, Kyle searched around for a fork and his wand. The fork was easy. It was where clean forks were always kept. Though, there were an oddly large number of dirty dishes in the sink that Kyle didn’t remember making that morning. He frowned at the sink and then shrugged; he was too tired to think about it right now, but couldn’t remember why he wouldn’t have washed the dishes the night before.

After at least a minute of searching, he realized that his wand, with the glowing tip that was illuminating his search, was in his gosh darned hand. Well, that was… Sheepishly, Kyle ran a hand through his hair and chuckled at himself.

“Glad no one else was around to see that.” Sticking his clean fork in his pan of carbonara, Kyle headed into his living room and sat down on his couch groggily.

“Ow!” Kyle jumped up and froze, afraid to turn around. There were lumps on the couch, and they talked. “Kyle?” Why did the lumps on the couch sound familiar and just as tired as he was?”

“Who is that?” He turned slowly and pointed his wand’s glowing tip at the lumps on the couch, which were under a blanket. A hand rose out of the blankets and blocked the dim glow of the wand from as face beyond.

“It’s Jones. Could you lower your wand, Kyle? I know what you can do with it and I’m a little uncomfortable being on the business end of that thing.” Yep. That was definitely Specialist Jones voice. Kyle lowered his wand warily because while he knew Jones, the Magicorps soldier shouldn’t have been able to get into Kyle’s home.

“Hey, Jones.” Kyle yawned then perked up as his tired brain realized that his missing sister had been with Jones. “Is Anna okay?”

“Yeah.” The soldier yawned as well as pushing himself into a sitting position. “She’s fine. Sleeping in your guest room. We had a bit of an adventure, but her godfather came and bailed us out with…yeah…”

“Oh, yeah.” Kyle didn’t know, but he knew. There was a reason that Anna didn’t play sports or do anything competitive. And that reason was a very proud and protective Archangel and his friends in the pantheons. “Say no more. You can tell me in the morning. I’m going to go check on Anna and head to bed. Go back to sleep, Jones.”

“Yes, Sir.” He acknowledged with a habitual salute and collapsed into unconsciousness almost immediately. His snores began once again before his head even hit the pillow.

Kyle snorted his amusement and strolled into the spare bedroom in his apartment. There was Anna, like Jones had promised, a few tiny little snowflakes swirling out of her nose with each breath. It was cold in there. Not cold enough to prevent the snowflakes from evaporating into the air. But still cold nonetheless.

Elemental magic seeped from Anna’s very pores as she slept, saturating the air. She probably raised the arcanes in the room just with her very presence. Movement in his breast pocket notified Kyle that the prism had sensed the magical currents in the room as it popped its head out. It was cute, but it was just with him for food.

“Okay, little guy or gal.” The warlock scooped the prism out of his pocket, and it eagerly climbed onto his hand. “This is my sister, and I think she is going to like you a lot.” Kyle held his hand down to the bedside table and unlike when he’d tried to return the creature to its herd earlier, the prism hopped right off his hand. “I see how it is. No loyalty.” Shaking his head, he watched as the prism clicked its way across the table and hopped across the gap between the bed and the table. It clambered onto the pillow and made itself comfortable in a nest of Anna’s long white hair.

Relived that his younger sister, at least, was safe, Kyle headed to his bedroom, eating his carbonara on his bed. He’d meant to change out of his sweaty and monster guts-stained clothing before getting into bed. It was fine. He could wash things. To mitigate the spread of grossness Kyle decided to just sleep on top of the covers. Seconds after closing his eyes, he was asleep.

2:15 PM September 14th 2026

Museum of Unnatural Science and History Employee Housing

A beam of sunlight stabbed through Kyle’s eyelids, searing his weary eyeballs. Groaning in protests, the young man rolled over and grumbled. Or more accurately, he tried to roll over and gasped in pain. Why was his body screaming at him?

“What in the artificer’s heck was that? Why do I hurt so much?” He moaned under his breath.

It almost made him cry because the longer he lay there catching his breath, the more Kyle felt like the sunlight was burning his eyeballs inside his skull. It seemed like an hour of him gradually feeling the pain in his body fluctuate from sharp stabs to roaring aches to dull throbbing but was probably closer to five minutes. The lowering sun in the sky was also beaming more and more of its traitorous cancer particles through his window and onto his face.

As the minutes passed and consciousness returned, the warlock remembered what exactly he had done to make his body hate him so much. Monsters. Metal and false matter, flesh and bone flashed through his mind. One monster after another, sliced and diced, squished squashed, and squelched. In his hands. Under his boots. Bigger and bigger until the last thing screamed its unholy rage at him while the Wrath of Zeus spell rained down death around them.

Hazel eyes popped open in an effort to banish that horror from his mind. Then those eyelids immediately closed in reflex as the bright afternoon sunlight shone straight through his retina. Reflexively the young man closed his eyes and succeeded in rolling over, yelping through the agony as his abused muscles and joints protested. But at least he wasn’t seeing the nightmare memories of the prior day anymore. He fervently hoped that wasn’t going to be a recurring problem going forward.

Yesterday there hadn’t been time to feel what he’d been doing at the time. Sure, there was fear under the determination to rescue his sister. He’d even had a not so healthy dose of self-loathing that he was killing living creatures even if they were monsters. Killing had never come easy for him and was one of the reasons he’d avoided the military career his mother had so desperately wanted for him to follow in her footsteps. Kyle had felt so much guilt beneath the disgust for the evil manifestations trying to consume the life in his city.

Guilt for killing. Guilt for being good at it. Guilt for disappointing his mother when he was fully capable of doing the job she’d wanted him to do, just because he didn’t want to do it. Then more guilt for having to do it anyways after all the time the two of them had spent fighting over it. I’ll never be like you mom. I’ll never enjoy killing living things even if they are monsters. But he had.

Kyle loved magic. He loved it. He loved using it. Yesterday was horrible and he’d been terrified and angry, and disgusted, but what made him feel absolutely filthy inside his own mind was that he had been good at it. Casting spells of such magnitude and power requirements that they were colloquially known as mage killing spells? Kyle had murdered and danced his way through a city full of monsters, covering himself in splatters of flesh, and splashes of blood and despite the gnawing terror from the constant threat of death… he’d been good at it.

Shuddering painfully, he blinked tears out of his eyes. It was going to take a while to unpack all of that. And he wasn’t going to enjoy doing it.

“I made you breakfast.” A young, familiar, feminine voice spoke softly from over near the door. He turned his head gingerly in that direction. “And I rummaged through your cabinets for a healing potion since I wasn’t sure how you were going to feel this morning.”

She was wearing the spare pair of pajamas that Kyle kept in the guest room for her. It was pink with images of little cartoon cloud hopper rabbits and zigzagging lines of electricity printed on the fleece material. One of the buttons on the top was miss buttoned, illustrating how tired she must have been when she got to bed, and the hem hung unevenly exposing the drawstring on the loose-fitting pants. Kyle smiled and chuckled tiredly. That was so on brand for his baby sister.

“Thanks Snow Cone.” He tried to get up, he really did, but in the end sighed in frustration and looked at his siter pleadingly. “Could you help me up? I over did it yesterday.” Anna’s face scrunched up in a giggle and for a second, Kyle was reminded of the happy chubby little cherubic baby she was so many years ago. Okay, so, maybe… just maybe, Kyle sometimes still thought of Anna as a little baby that needed to be coddled and protected.

“Sure.” She padded into the room in fuzzy slippers and set a plate of food and a cup of orange juice on the bedside table. Turning to face him, she leaned down and wiggled a hand under his shoulder. 

“On three, okay. One, two three.” She counted down in a voice that made it clear she was very amused that her big strong brother needed her help for once. “Heave ho.”

On ‘heave’ Kyle tensed his muscles to rise and pushed himself up with one hand while grabbing onto Anna’s shoulder for support with the other. Once he was sitting, Kyle gave his sister a flat look.

“Heave ho?” The warlock suspected that she was making fun of him somehow but hadn’t been able to quite put his finger on it.

“Yeah.” Came her innocent admission. “It’s what people say when they are working together to move big inanimate objects like boulders, stones, logs…” Kyle was certain that she would have gone on for a while if he had let her, but it only took a minute for him to get where she was going with her list.

“So, you’re comparing me to rocks and wood?” Taking the plate his sister picked up and then handed to him, Kyle waited for her answer while trying to not drop the food he desperately needed.

“Hey if the object-without-a-brain shoe fits…” She shrugged impishly and easily ducked his pained clumsy attempt to swat at her playfully. “See?” Anna giggled as she turned and grabbed the orange juice which miraculously had a straw in it. Where had she gotten a straw? Did he even have straws in his apartment?  “You can’t even feed yourself after yesterday.”

“Point taken. Is the healing potion in there?” His sister held the cup for him and steadied the straw. As soon as he put his lips on it, he realized the straw was made from ice.  Taking a few sips and swallowing carefully, Kyle savored the sensation of liquid in his parched throat. Then sighed as the pain in his body first burned with accelerated healing then receded to a dull ache.

“How did you know I was going to need a healing potion?” Finally able to support his own weight and hold the cup for himself, he took it and stirred the remaining liquid with the chilly straw. Melting liquid flowed over his fingers as he did, and he looked up at his little sister sheepishly when she didn’t answer. Her arms were folded over her chest and one eyebrow was raised inquiringly.

“Really?” A snort of disbelief left her lips. “You neveruse as much as you should because you have a neurotic paranoia about rationing potions. I bet if I go through the pockets on whatever coat you were wearing when you got home last night right now, I will find a half a bottle of unused accelerated healing potion.” She stood back and watched him imperiously as if daring him to prove her wrong.

“You’re not wrong.” Shaking his head ruefully, Kyle picked up his fork and dug into the eggs and pasta with a side of fruit salad.

“Eat up.” She turned and headed out of his room. “The water’s out, so you can’t shower, but I made enough clean water that you can do a washcloth bath. The bowl is on the counter in the bathroom when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Snow Cone.” Smiling gratefully, Kyle started eating. He was still a little sore, but not so sore that moving felt like punishment. After he’d finished eating, the warlock headed to the bathroom to clean up. His clothes were stained with monster guts though thankfully the worst of it had evaporated as it had been from the false matter portion of the manifestations. Cleaning some of the muck and grime from yesterday off would be nice.

Stripping, he dipped the cloth into the bowl then yelped as the ice-cold water touched his skin. From his living room Kyle heard his sister’s tinkling laughter, Jones standing up in concern and then Anna explaining between sniggers that it was just the cold water. Peering at the water more closely, Kyle saw the little ring of ice around the edge and grimaced.

“Very funny, Anna.” Cold, and a little annoyed, Kyle summoned a heating spell. Whispering “Infernis,” he cupped his hands in the frigid water, shivering as he did so. Though the water chilled his fingers to the bone, they warmed swiftly as his spell took effect. Then Kyle swayed as his magic levels dropped swiftly. Belated the warlock he remembered that he wasn’t drawing on the magic from his pact and that magic levels inside his home weren’t sufficient for him to just do spells all willy-nilly. His shoulders slumped dejectedly.

“Getting used to being a regular warlock again is gonna suck!”

Mostly clean and changed into a fresh pair of clothes Kyle finally felt restored enough to walk into his living room. Yesterday’s snazzy suit and dress shoes, worn purely for the benefit of looking professional while giving tours to museum visitors, had been replaced by a comfortable ensemble. Consisting of tennis shoes, a polo shirt with the buttons left unfastened, and a pair of khakis, it was what he usually wore when working in the secured rooms for restoring, evaluating, and storing artifacts.

Of course, an ensorcelled and protective warlocks robe was usually worn over anything an employee that worked with artifacts wore. It was a requirement of the job to wear the appropriate protective clothing. Kyle went to grab his lanyard and his favorite warlocks robe from the hook by his bedroom door and stopped when they weren’t there. Dang it. His stuff had been in the vehicle. Oh, forget about the lost vehicle, his museum key card was missing, he was going to be screwed.

Giving a groaned sigh of exasperation, Kyle’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. It was so unfair. Saving countless lives, battling monsters for hours on end, and he was still going to be canned because he’d lost a key to the most secure facility on the bunny fluffy planet. His mind was automatically editing his thoughts with his sister nearby. Even though he wasn’t speaking them out loud, it was a force of habit with Kyle not to let his thoughts or words get too bad when he was with his sister, so that he never swore around her. It was their mom’s rule that the older siblings were not to speak swear words around Anna.

“Jones,” Kyle called out as he entered the living room, “I hope you have your key card because mine is in the vehicle I left with you yesterday. The one that the Army apparently commandeered?” Leaving the statement open, he lifted his voice to indicate inquiry and bit his lip nervously as he waited for an answer.

“No worries,” The Magicorps soldier assured him as he pointed to Kyle’s worn but sturdy second-hand coffee table, “The Archangel Michael hooked us up. We retrieved the vehicle, all of our gear – minus some used ammunition – and our personal belongings. It’s all good.” There on the table were Kyle’s lanyard with his museum keycard, his not-too-awful identification photo smiling out at him, and his favorite warlock’s robe.

He hadn’t worn it to fight in because…? Well, he really didn’t know why. Warlocks robes came in a lot of different styles and had multiple uses. The most basic was for protection from the elements and against blowback from spells or enchantments gone wrong. They were stylish, comfortable, but usually not designed for the kind of quick and indiscriminate movements required in the fast-paced combat environment.

Then there were dueling robes. Ornate and stiffly stylized, they deliberately restricted the movement of the warlock as the whole premise of a duel was to stand in one place while firing spells at one another. Combat robes went in the opposite direction and facilitated free movement with a highly flexible body that flared out at the waist, so the hem was wide enough to not restrict running while the robe was fastened down the entire length. Most were even enchanted to prevent the robe from becoming entangled with limbs as they moved. So why the heck hadn’t Kyle worn his robes while fighting yesterday? That would have been useful.

Oh, yeah!

The suit.

“Thanks guys. I was freaking out that I might get canned for losing my key card.” Jones, who was drinking something hot and caffeinated smelling, snorted said beverage through his nose and coughed in surprise.

“You saved like half the city yesterday. They couldn’t fire you for the Army confiscating your key card.” His disbelief was palpable. But Kyle knew that nothing he did would have made a difference if the museum was compromised.

“Yes. They could and should.” He grabbed his robe and lanyard, donning them quickly. “We need to get to the museum and have my security enchantments changed immediately just in case someone got a hold of my card while it was out of our possession and gallivanting around town with the Army.”

Jones was already dressed in his uniform from the day before. Anna had given him a pair of Kyle’s pajamas the night before so that he wouldn’t be sleeping in monster goo-stained clothing. So, he’d washed his uniform out the best he could with the ice water the elementalist had conjured in the bathroom sink by candlelight. He’d been too exhausted to use his wand as a light source. Then bathed himself in more ice water and passed out on the couch.

Though his clothes were still damp when he’d put them on, a quickly whispered spell had the dampness evaporating off him and steaming up the bathroom as he changed that morning. Anna had been waiting for him and Kyle to wake up as she’d made breakfast so many hours ago that it was cooled already.

“Alright, sir. Jones answered without hesitation. “Let’s go then.” His boots had been on and tied since he’d dressed hours ago. Part of him had wondered if he should have gone back to the museum to report in last night. But at the same time, he also had been under orders from the museum director to follow Kyle’s orders, and Kyle’s orders were to protect Anna until Kyle came for her. Since Kyle couldn’t get into the museum, Jones knew the fastest way for him to be released back to the instruction of the museum director was to get Anna back together with Kyle as soon as possible.

Donning his robe and lanyard, Kyle rummaged through his pockets. He uttered a triumphant “Ah ha!” as he pulled out an object that seemed far too large for such average-looking pockets. It was a message scroll. The one he’d been issued by the director before heading out on his first assignment.

He read the messages waiting for him, his eyes scanning the page quickly. A little frown started on his face and the furrow between his brow grew deeper the longer he read. Kyle wasn’t sharing so Anna sidled next to him to read over his shoulder. She began frowning also, which concerned Jones. 

After a few seconds, Jones shrugged and did the same, reading over Kyle’s shoulder also.

Kyle: I’ve reached the incident. FBI and their magitech division are on scene. Will notify you of findings after evaluation.

Director: Good. Keep me informed. I have faith in your ability.

Director: Could I get an update? It’s been an hour. You should have a preliminary evaluation by now.

Director: the protective enchantments on the museum register that someone’s using some high-level 

spells out there. Is it you? Are you under attack? Let me know if you and Jones are still alive, it’s been two hours, and I can sense level two and three manifestations.

Director: There is a level four manifestation in the city. Get back here right now. Let the Magicorps and the superheroes handle the monsters.

Director: Kyle? Jones? Anyone who finds this message scroll? Please respond. There are three level four manifestations in the city. We’ve lost contact with anyone on the island of Manhattan.

Director: I’m getting impatient. If you don’t respond in the next hour, I’m going to assume you are dead and wait until morning to send someone to retrieve your body.

Director: Gods damn it, Kyle! Someone just cast wrath of Zeus inside the city and I’m pretty sure it was you! If casting a mage-killer spell didn’t kill you, you’re going to wish you were dead when I get through with you.

Director: Kyle? *sigh* Please respond.

Director: Jones? Anyone?

Director: It’s ten P.M. If either of you is still alive, please let me know. I’ve been in contact with the military command that are directing suppression actions. You were both confirmed alive but, that you’ve been taken for questioning. I’m trying to get answers, but none of my contacts with the Magicorps or any other branch know anything about it.

After this last message there were a series of scribbles on the scroll. Like a very young child had taken a pen to the page to make their own nonsensical version of writing. Nothing more than scratches really. Below this was a response.

Director: Who is this. I’m not a big meanie head. How did you get this scroll? Where is Kyle and Jones?

More scratches followed and another response. It continued this way for a while.

Director: What do you mean you ‘found it under a pile of soft in tasty buzzy food man’s warm place’? Who is tasty buzzy food man? Did you eat him?

More hasty scribbles that were almost indignant looking with the hard slashes and the way the scroll was indented so deeply it almost tore through.

Director: Well, you called him ‘tasty buzzy food man’, how was I supposed to know you didn’t eat him? We’re in the middle of a magical emergency with monster manifestations. Why shouldn’t I assume you ate him? He’s sleeping? And Jones too? What is ‘cold tasty frost sleep one’?

Another several lines of the bizarre scritches were on the scroll followed by yet another response.

Director: Of course, the word you are looking for is ‘ice elementalist’. That must be Kyle’s sister Anna. 

She does put off a lot of magic. You should probably ask if it’s okay to feed off her first.

The next line of script – because it was clearly some kind of script if the director was able to read it even if no one on Kyle’s end could – almost seemed to covey a sulky sadness and impatience.

Director: No. Definitely DO NOT let the rest of your tribe in. Keep those windows closed, they are the only thing keeping the monsters out. You don’t want to let all the magic in so monsters can manifest and eat your new friends do you?

One last line of script was sent, and the director’s response finished the conversation.

Director: I know. Your tribe is afraid of the monsters. But if they go up to the front door of the building, there’s a package delivery slot next to the mailboxes. They can come in through there and then shut it behind them. Have them hang out in the mail bin and Kyle can get you all situated when he wakes up.

“I’m not the only one who can’t read one side of this conversation? Am I?” Kyle finally spoke up in the deeply concerned silence that had sprung up around the three mages.

“I’m more concerned about who the fu – ” Jones caught Kyle glaring at him and changed his intended word mid-syllable, “ – uuudge. Fudge. Who the fudge was in here writing on your scroll while I was sleeping right next to it?”

“Then there’s the fact that someone put it back in the pocket.” The warlock of the archivist added looking around with alarm. “Were they being polite, or did they not want us to know that they were here? Also, who were they?”

“Where are they now?” Jones drew his wand, the end charging as he prepared a rapid cast spell in case combat was necessary.

“I’m more worried about the fact that there’s a tribe of little hungry things waiting for us downstairs at the mail drop.” Anna added. “And also wondering if I should be offended that I was referred to as a ‘cold tasty frost sleep one’?”

A small chiming sound came from Anna. Not like a sound that a human being could make, but a ringing like crystal being struck and reverberating musically. Her eyes flew wide as she looked down at her chest where the sound was coming from.

“What is that?” She was clearly horrified as a lump moved on her breast. “Is it eating me? It was clearly told to ask permission!” Her indignant screech was followed almost immediately by her trying to take off her pajama shirt. But something about the moving lump stirred something in Kyle’s foggy memories of the night before.

“It’s okay. Calm down Anna.”

“It’s not okay!” She hissed back at him. Jones was now hesitantly pointing his wand at Anna appalled at the fact that there was something possibly crawling out of her body that she hadn’t noticed munching on her all morning long. “You’re not the one being eaten!”

Kyle laughed and covered his mouth to try stifle it. Because as every brother knows, laughing at your sister when she was upset and telling her to calm down usually had the opposite effect.

“No. It really is okay.” Her brother promised between bouts of laughter. “It’s your new pet. I picked it up as a present for you last night on the way home. I just didn’t know they had a language and could write.”

“What? A present?” If there was anything that could redirect Anna’s attention in fractions of a second, it was presents. She went from dancing agitatedly while trying to get whatever the thing on her was off, to calm and eagerly hopeful nearly instantly. “What kind of pet? Is it cute?”

“It’s a prism. They feed off magical currents. I rescued the one on you from a racoon trying to eat it last night.” Anna stared down at her pajama breast pocket with wonder and excitement instead of the dread of only moments ago. Sheepishly, Jones put his wand away and went to run a hand through his hair.  His hand paused, expecting a cap, then remembered he was indoors and wasn’t wearing his cover.

“So, not dangerous, and not eating us?” He made sure to get clarification from Kyle.

“No. Not eating us. Just want to feed off our magical output. This one got a taste of my electric magic when I zapped the racoon that was trying to make off with him. And after I healed him – or erm – it up, it refused to let go until I let it come home with me.”

“It’s so tiny.” The trio had been watching the lump gradually worm its way up Anna’s pocket and when it finally poked its head over the edge, Anna let out a breathy squeal of delight. “Hiiii cutie.” Cooing at the prism in high pitched tones like she was addressing a baby, Anna held out her finger for the little crystal creature. “Are you hungry? Why were you hiding in my pocket?”

“That’s probably my fault too.” Her older brother admitted with a wry grin. “I let it ride home in my pocket last night, so it may think that’s where it’s supposed to be when its close to a person.”

“OoooOOOoohhh!” The ice elementalist continued her conversation in baby tones, cooing cajolingly to her new pet. “Did Kyle teach you to ride in pockets? That such a good little prism. Yes, you are. Did the director and his message scroll scare you last night, so you went and talked to him? What a good brave wittle prism. You deserve some tasty magic. Yes, you do!” Jones snorted at the teen’s antics as she wandered away, pointing a finger at her new pet which grabbed onto it and suckled like a baby.

“Well, that did a quick one-eighty.” His dry remark was not lost on Kyle.

“Mom refused to let any of us kids have a pet because she didn’t want to clean up after it or deal with all the animal regulations during PCS-ing.” He shrugged in a self-deprecating way as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Even if she just keeps her prism here with me, she’s got herself a pet like she’s always wanted now.” Smiling fondly at his sister, Kyle pulled the stylus out of the message scroll and wrote a quick response to Director Arcas before rolling up the scroll, tucking the stylus back into it, and tucking the bundle into one of his pockets.

“Let’s head out.” Taking a breath, Kyle braced himself for the day to come. Following obediently behind, Jones spared one final glance at the teen and her new pet. He was pretty sure Kyle didn’t know what he’d gotten himself into. “Hey Anna,” Kyle called out to her from his front door. “Stay inside the building until we’ve got confirmation that the monsters have all been eliminated. Okay?”

“Okay.” Her response was immediate and distracted… and utterly sincere. Kyle narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“That felt too easy.” The Magicorps soldier beside him murmured after the door had closed behind them.

“Yes.” Kyle agreed.

They walked in silence toward the front door of the building, pausing to hear the little tinkling chiming sounds of the tribe of prisms that had made themselves at home in the incoming mail drop box. A few poked their heads over the side of the box and Kyle tilted his head skyward a groan.

“Easy.” Jones grinned and shook his head. They exited the building and locked the doors behind them. Now in the walled courtyard that separated the employee housing from Central Park, Jones held up a hand for them to stop. There was a rhythmic pounding in the distance. Like the sound of many feet marching in step. But bigger, heavier. “What’s that?”

Cocking his head, Kyle listened for a moment. Closing his eyes, the mage took the opportunity to enjoy the warm afternoon sunlight on his face. Now that it wasn’t waking him up, it felt quite nice when pared with the crisp breeze blowing through the city. He was pretty sure he knew what the sound was, but he opened himself to the flow of magic around him to confirm his guess.

“The security golems.” Verifying the source of the noise, Kyle opened his eyes and pointed in a direction tangent to where they needed to be. “They’ve been active since the initial event and have been patrolling all day. It sounds like they are actively engaged in monster suppression in the vicinity.” Nodding his understanding, ones placed a hand on his wand. “Don’t,” Kyle warned the Magicorps soldier, “They can handle anything tier three and under. But if you so much as flare your aura they could perceive you as a threat. Didn’t you get the new employee orientation?”

“I did.” The specialist agreed. “I just… force of habit.”

“Have your museum ID handy. The enchantments on it let the security golems know that you are authorized to be in the area and use magic. But they’re… twitchy… with me.” He raised his eyebrows in a what-can-you-do gesture and Jones raised his eyebrows back in a that-fucking-sucks response.

Though the trip was a little terrifying, Kyle and Jones made the journey through the park in relative safety. Relative safety because arcanes were still saturating the area, and the high ambient magic density meant that while monsters were no longer forming the ones that had formed the previous day and hadn’t been dealt with, were still active. The patrolling security golems had done their jobs in every way.

Their design was ingenious and especially suited for a disaster like this in multiple ways. First, the security golems were usually in a low-magic-use standby mode. In this mode, their enchantments absorbed, accumulated and stored the normally low ambient magic of the area for use during times when they had to be active. This process enabled them to remain active all the time. Even when there was very little ambient magic.

However, they also worked similarly when active during times of high ambient magic. This meant that in addition to killing monsters that did manifest in the area, the security golems’ very presence was lowering the ambient magic of Central Park and preventing the formation of new monsters. Using their magically enchanted weapons features drained the ambient magic further still. They had been quite elegantly designed in Kyle’s opinion.

Magically, that is. Not visually. Visually they were golems. Some with blocky and clunky looking. Surprisingly, those weren’t the oldest golems but newer ones designed to look like abstract sculptures. Some were elegant works of art that expressed some sentiment of myth or history. A pack of bronze wolves was snarling over the remnants of what looked like some kind of large spider beast and a trio of past presidents in marble were cartwheeling after the Enchantress Doughnuts food bike stand as it wheeled away from them frantically, its partially manifested monster form pedaling itself with arms that used to make up the poles of the shade canopy.

“Aww, man!” The warlock cried out in anguish. “Not my Enchantress doughnuts!” He grabbed at his hair theatrically and fell to his knees. Partly to have fun being over the top, and partly because it had been a while since he’d had his doughnut fix and now it was going to be even longer. His knees had actually gotten weak and if he hadn’t voluntarily fallen to the ground in mourning he might have legitimately fallen a few seconds later.

“What?” Jone was startled and immediately went for his wand, unsure what Kyle was reacting to. So, Kyle pointed.

“There.” After peeking with one eye to make sure he got the right angle, Kyle flung a hand and finger in the direction of the fleeing bicycle food cart then turned his head dramatically away. Closing his eyes, Kyle put the back of one hand to his forehead like a fainting Victorian maiden.

“Seriously?” His companion grunted in dismay. “A food cart? I thought we were in danger.” Side-eying the civilian who – after the events of the day before – Jones had started wondering if some of the gossip about the warlock of the Archivist might be true, and put his wand back in its holster.

“It’s Enchantress Doughnuts.” The words were said with such emphatic emphasis as if that explained everything. When the Magicorps soldier just stared at Kyle as if the words meant nothing to him, the warlock tried explaining again. “Enchantress. Dough-nuts!!!!” This time a shake of the head came from the soldier. “Literally the most delicious doughnuts on Earth. That was the closest shop to my home, running away on wheels.”

“I still don’t see what the big deal is.” The soldier reached down to help Kyle to his feet.

“I haven’t had my doughnut fix in days. And now it will be days longer, maybe weeks before a new doughnut bike is brought out to replace the old one. I’m not entirely certain if I can live like this!” Panic was setting in as he thought of a life without Enchantress Doughnuts whenever he wanted and decided that it was not a happy one.

“It’s just doughnuts. You can eat other doughnuts.” Aghast, Kyle gasped. A look of affrontery and betrayal so deep crumpled on his face that Jones was a little surprised.

“You take that back.” Now standing, the young warlock crossed his arms like a petulant child and turned away from the soldier. Smothering a laugh and covering his smile with a hand, Jones agreed.

“Okay.” And they began their walk toward the museum again. It was weird, walking through the park as the golems wandered about patrolling as they went or actively pursuing threats. No monsters came towards them, but the thumping of the golems feet as they moved, rhythmic as they patrolled in groups yet also out of sync as individuals broke off from their groups to engage.

It was as they neared the museum that Kyle became nervous and slowed though they had made good time so far.

“Hey.” He motioned with one hand for Jones to hold back and keep pace with him while fumbling for his lanyard and employee identification card with the other. “You’ve got an ID card, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.” Jones nodded warily; uncertain what Kyle was so concerned about. He watched the nervous way the museum employee glanced side to side, his head on a swivel and scanning for… Jones didn’t know what. But something.

“Get it out. And whatever you do, don’t lose it.” Something about Kyle’s wariness bothered Jones. This guy had faced down class four monster manifestations without this level of concern. Heck, who was Jones fooling? Kyle had laughed in the face of danger and had fun doing it. So, for him to be concerned now, so close to the literal safest place in the city…

“What’s wrong?” Jones felt his heart suddenly leap into a gallop. It thudded thunderously in his chest as adrenaline dumped into his system making him a jittery mess. Because Kyle was afraid and that was terrifying.

Was there some kind of special security precaution which went into effect during emergencies that the Magicorps soldiers weren’t briefed on? Did Kyle, as the clearly more talented mage, sense a dangerous monster lurking someone in disguise that Jones didn’t? The horrific possibilities were endless.

“It’s going to sound stupid.” Keeping his voice low and walking slowly and cautiously, Kyle explained. “But the sentry golems that are usually stationed here at the entrance to the museum, well… they don’t like me.”

“What?” It was such a letdown from the horrors that had been racing through Jones’ mind. He’d been playing out various danger scenarios and how to get them both to safety despite potentially overwhelming odds and no cover besides some trees to hide behind. The question had come out flatly. In disbelief.

“The sentry golems don’t like me. I get stopped almost every day on my way to work.” Scuffing a toe shyly as he spoke, Kyle glanced up at Jones from beneath an unruly mop of hair. It had been wet when they left his apartment and had mostly dried into jagged chunky locks that looked like they might have wanted to curl.

“What?” Incredulous that something like this would make Kyle, the badass who took down at least two class four monsters the day before, nervous…well, it was just a little bit ludicrous. “That’s… that’s a silly reason to be worried.”

“Is it?” He’d gone back to scanning for signs of the usual sentry golems but they were off in another location as of yet, then looked back at Jones with a hard dark glint in his eyes. “Every day, every normal day I am stopped on my way into work and nearly dealt with as a possible danger. Golems in standby mode come awake every day just for me. What are they going to do now that they are actively seeking and destroying things they consider to be a danger?”

“Well, shit!” It was all the soldier had to say on that matter. But he did take a few side steps and sidle away from Kyle. They were still walking abreast but with a good eight feet between them now.

“That’s not far enough away to not get caught in a greater fireball blast.” Kyle chuckled and Jones surreptitiously moved himself just a little bit further away as they continued walking.

Much to Kyle’s relief, he and Jones reached the museum without incident. The normal sentry golems that provided security immediately around the Museum were all patrolling other areas of the park or further out around the perimeter. Whatever the case, the warlock was immensely grateful that he didn’t have to test how well the enchantments on his museum employee identification badge worked during times when the golems were one hundred percent active.

Jones seemed to breathe a sigh of relief also as Kyle keyed open one of the unobtrusive rear service doors that opened into the loading dock. They were unable to enter through the main doors as those were covered with a security barrier at the time because the front of the building had huge glass windows. The kind of glass that was a near-perfect barrier against magical seepage, but still just glass.

Director Arcas was waiting for them as they stepped into the cooler interior and dimmed emergency lighting of the museum. The unique scent of the museum greeted him with its familiar blend of musty antiquities and clinical sterility. He took a deep breath, savoring the subtle hints of old parchment, corroded metal, and preserved inks, arts, and dust that hovered just below the air-conditioned climate-controlled breeze that was tainted with the slight chemical smell of cleaning solution and preservatives.

In the distance, his friend was cooking up a storm in the museum’s café, adding his own blend of cooking magic to the arcanes that buzzed around and among the artifacts housed here. Food, magic, and old books.

It was better than home.

Kyle was relieved to see that some of the excitement of the day before had worn off Director Arcas. The bright hungry glint in his burnt umber eyes had dimmed to its normal level of bemused bewitchment. His black hair was brushed back with a few loose locks framing his forehead and highlighted the vampire’s porcelain skin and perfectly proportioned face.

The director had the stereotypical too perfect features of vampires. He was fawned over by women for his god looks and unfairly muscular physique. Every time he looked at his boss Kyle was reminded that the vampire, with his perpetually sardonic half-smile and the careless ease he styled himself with, was just Sam’s type. As a responsible brother, he should definitely continue avoiding the pair ever meeting. Because if the parade of dates the vampire brought to museum galas and functions were any indication, Sam was totally his type too.

That was a disturbing train of thought, and he quickly shoved it away before the recurring nightmare where his boss was his brother-in-law found any more fuel in the darkened corners of his mind. Happy thoughts. Kyle gave his boss a pained smile and desperately thought of anything else. Happy, happy, thoughts.

“So, you truly are alive. Congratulations on a successful first artifact retrieval assignment.” Arcas fanged smile spread elegantly across his face with genuine delight. Though it gave Jones the heebie-jeebies so much he barely suppressed a shudder, that smile actually relaxed Kyle and put him at ease. It meant he wasn’t in trouble for… everything he’d done the day before. “I was fearful that you were dead, and I’d been conversing with someone who had looted your corpse.”

“Nope. Not dead.” Smiling back, Kyle closed the distance between them and clasped the vampire’s proffered hand.

“I bet you almost wished you were this morning. Eh?” Kyle groaned as Adrian Arcas, the vampire of an unknown number of centuries but who looked like he was perpetually in his mid-twenties, joked at Kyle’s expense. They both chuckled and Adrian clapped his employee on the shoulder and then turned to walk further into the building. “You had quite the exciting day you two. While I just sat here in safety like an old hermit shepherding grumpy tourists. Could you secure the door Mister Jones?” Arcas called over his shoulder with the vaguely European accent that no one could place as he escorted Kyle along with him.

“Also, congratulations on surviving as well, Mister Jones. I didn’t mean to neglect you; I was just overwhelmed with relief that I hadn’t lost my Warlock of the Archivist. Please, come, join us. I can brief the two of you as we walk.” He’d removed his suit jacket at some point and now had it draped across his shoulder like some debonaire trust fund playboy. However, it was also swishing behind him like a short cape and Kyle sent a silent prayer to the universe that Sam never, ever, ever met his boss.

Because…

….eww.

But enough of that. Kyle had been worried sick about what happened at the incident site after he had irresponsibly left his sister and the Magic Crimes Division to deal with it. Though, when anyone asked in the future, he was going to frame it as heroically running to the rescue of a school full of children under monster attack even if he hadn’t really intended to save anyone but Anna.

“So, the retrieval was successful?” If Arcas noticed that his question was hesitant, he didn’t point it out. Instead, the probably older vampire nodded happily.

“Quite. Both corpses have been airlifted to an appropriate holding facility and they have left the vehicle intact pending further advisement by a museum representative.” Arcas was very satisfied with the outcome. “Though your sister and Gleipnir oversaw the transport, credit and first examination rights are coming to the museum. So, I’d count this as successful.” His slight smile twisted a little higher as he chuckled and gave Kyle a side-eye. “I doubt your sister will be pleased with that.”

“No,” Jones guffawed from Arcas’ other side and Kyle gave a small chuckle also. “She will not be pleased with that at all,” he agreed as Arcas’ devilish grin grew mischievous.

“She might just slap you again, Kyle.” Jones and Kyle went awkwardly silent as they realized that Kyle and Sam’s shenanigans had gotten back to their boss. “You’re not in trouble, I understand that you can’t control how your sister behaves. You are only responsible for your own actions.” Continuing along the broad corridor that led from the loading bays to the offices and pubic display rooms on the second and third floors. “I can’t wat to meet the woman who isn’t afraid to slap a man who can cast mage-killer spells.”

Kyle gulped. Suddenly the hallway was a yawning chasm as his mind spun with his worst sibling dating fears. Then, a thought occurred to him, and he had the perfect response.

“Should I arrange for her and her partner, ahem,” the warlock of the Archivist cleared his throat significantly as he said the name, “Alex, to come to confer with the museum in person for this retrieval?” At first, Jones furrowed his brow then understanding dawned on him as he cleared the confusion off his face just as Arcas glanced his way.

“No.” If there was the ever so slightest hint of suspicion in his tone, the vampire hid it well. “It’s quite alright. Your sister just seems like an interesting person, from the stories I’ve heard. You do have a very remarkable family.”

“It’s just Sam.” Because while he thought his sister was remarkable for being herself, she was, after all, just being herself. She was smart and funny, and a bit of a brat. But she worked in a lab most of the time like him. They were average people. So, Kyle wasn’t sure what was so remarkable about a girl slapping her wizard brother who would barely be able to cast basic spells once the arcanes went back to normal. “But she’s alright.”

Adrian Arcas continued smiling at Kyle and Jones as he closed the door to his office behind them. It was clear that neither of them had heard about Kyle’s sister’s exploits. He wasn’t going to be the one to tell them.

The meeting had been brief but exciting for Kyle.

“Like I said previously, the Magic Crimes Division handed the transfer of the artifact and the dragons.” Arcas nodded towards Kyle. “It was definitely two dragons, which will be its whole own can of worms I’m afraid.” His slight and vaguely European accent made the vowels sound rounder to Kyle. But whether that was the correct term, he really didn’t know. His ‘w’s though, had just the tiniest hint of a ‘v’ sound to them. Sometimes Kyle suspected that the vampire was playing it up a bit to fit the stereotype that was expected of him by the museum’s rich and powerful patrons.

“There’s a registry of all the dragons in North America.” Jones volunteered. “It shouldn’t be too hard to identify them.” Arcas narrowed his eyes just a tad before smiling again.

“If they are on the registry, yes.” The Director agreed. “However,” He continued, “considering the circumstances, one has to wonder…” The sentence trailed off and he left it hanging.

“Anyways, Kyle, you will be continuing the examination of the device at the facility Magic Crimes have set up.” Glancing down at a very expensive pocket watch chained to his waistcoat, the dapper vampire verified the time. “Your flight will be here in about ten minutes.”

Kyle’s heart soared. He was so excited. Another shot at his first acquisition. But he as his eyes focused on the multitude of diplomas, certificates, and artifacts from the directors personal collection – presumably belongings from his long life – on the wall behind the director’s head, Kyle couldn’t help but to forcibly tamp down his eagerness. He had to ask.

“Is it really okay that I left the artifact acquisition incomplete? I know there’s extenuating circumstances…” Arcas threw back his head and bellowed a hearty laugh.

“Kyle. Kyle. Kyle. It’s not only alright, but it was also the best possible course of action.” Nodding reassuringly Adrian Arcas began gathering up the paperwork Kyle would need for transferring whatever artifact they would find beneath the dragon in the truck from the Magic Crimes Division to the Museum’s possession.

“Sir?” Kyle’s quizzical and doubtful look drew another laugh from his boss.

“You rescued so many rich children with rich parents. Imagine the potential for gratitude or even guilt donations.” His Burnt umber eyes gleamed with avarice. “So, many parents so happy that their children are still alive. Wracked with guilt that they were safe and sound and so far away while they experienced such trauma.” Licking his slightly parted lips between his fangs, Adrian continued excitedly as his fingers steepled together. “Your actions have certainly generated so much new revenue, not to mention the potential for ancestral artifact donations.”

It brought a grin to Kyle’s face and a whimsical roll of the eyes. Of course that was what Arcas cared about. Money. And artifacts. As long as Kyle’s actions benefited the museum.

“I’m glad to be of service, Director.” Blushing a bit as the director smiled his way too handsome smile at him, Kyle bowed his head with not entirely mock humility.

“Now, stop that. Take compliments with your head high. Some might think it arrogant, but everyone has the right to be proud of themselves and their accomplishments.” Upon finishing his sentence he paused to watch Kyle and Jones, glancing between the two of them until they nodded acknowledgement of his admonition. Then he handed over the folder of documents he’d been gathering, signing and filling with stamps, embossings, and official government enchantments as he’d spoken.

“These are all the documents you two will need. Get a full lab kit and your personal tools. I don’t trust that the FBI will have the kind of equipment necessary for truly arcane magic.” It wasn’t said with malice, just a fact. And Kyle agreed.

“I do believe they work more with modern threats as a counterpoint to the more ancient magics and techniques that we deal with here at the museum.” Kyle agreed.

“Excellent. You two, get ready. A helicopter will be on the roof in about fifteen minutes.” Giving a delicate sniff, he turned his attention fully to Jones. “I suggest you take the opportunity to get a fresh uniform and a second shower, Mister Jones before you gear up.”

Fifteen frantic minutes later, Kyle and an impressively decked out Jones were standing in the door onto the museum’s rooftop helipad as a helicopter descended towards them. Its blades whipped the air up into a frenzy while beating gravity into submission. It was something Kyle admired about the physical sciences.

Sure, magic would have been smoother, more elegant. But there was something just as magical about the way human ingenuity could conquer the physical world in a purely physical way. It almost made him think that society would be okay if magic suddenly disappeared. Then he shook that crazy thought out of his head.

When the pilot waved them over, Kyle tightened his grip on the handles of the shock-proof cases in each hand. He moved them as a means of indirectly adjusting the messenger style magic bag whose strap crossed his body. This was it. This was his first solo acquisition. Again.

His codex rested snugly in its holster, quiet. Which meant the environment was safe and his path was clear since it had no warnings for him. Jones and Kyle ran low under the idling blades of the helicopter. Kyle hurled himself inside, grateful to be away from the heartrate raising spin of the blades. Being a trained Magicorps mage, Jones was more collected in his entry, easily taking his place and strapping himself in. The young warlock of the archivist found himself fumbling with the safety straps which Jones helped him chuckling all the time.

“Laugh it up, wise guy.” Kyle grinned back and shook his head.

“You don’t think it’s funny that you can do the things you do, but safety belts stymie you?”

“When you put it that way…” Rolling his eyes, Kyle had to kind of agree with the fact that he had a lack-of-coolness problem.

“I’m really just smiling because we’re going on our first solo acquisition.” It felt good to hear it. It felt… Right. Kyle’s smile broadened. Then the words echoed in his mind. We’re going on our first solo acquisition. And his codex stirred. It wasn’t negative, or a warning. It agreed.

12:30 PM September 14th

Industrial Park District Near the Port of New York

Alex was taking a break from the long grueling hours keeping the site secure until the two corpses were taken away. It had been confirmed by Sam when she climbed out of the ruins of the collapsing structure monster, the second arcane source had been another dragon. Gleipnir was still inside the rubble wrapped around it and keeping everyone safe from it.

The sentient pact item had needed his warlock’s help to get him into the mess so he could essentially – and Alex hated to admit this – save everyone. Or maybe the obnoxious ribbon-needle-thing of myth hadn’t really needed Sam to go in there. Maybe Sam just refused to let him go in there alone?

Whatever the case, the magi-technician was now one of the few people known to have entered a Class Four monster and lived. Though from the mumbling Alex was hearing from the higher ups, the monster that had formed around the dragon corpse might have been an even higher level than that.  However, Alex was finding it hard to trust anything the bosses were saying.

She eyed the pop-up Emergency Response Joint Task Force magically insulated command structure that was located a good half mile back from the ruined building. It had been there since about fifteen minutes after Sam and Gleipnir had neutralized the monster. Yeah. That whole chain of command that had been out of contact during the most dangerous part of this emergency had waited until it was safe to swoop in and look like heroes.

“Assholes.” Muttering under her breath, she drew her gaze back to the buzz of activity surrounding the second of the two corpses. The first, the one in the moving van had been easy to move. It had just been levitated into an enchanted net connected to magic collector and a couple of heavy-duty choppers aided by levitation specialist mages and helped move it hours ago. Frank had sent most of his people with it. As for the second…?

Industrial demolition experts in bright yellow magically shielded containment suits were swarming all over with equipment to remove the debris. One walked past her, sweat pouring down his face behind the clear mask. Meanwhile, bulldozers, cranes, and backhoes were loading the false matter remains of the monster into shielded trailers and dump trucks and carting it away to be ‘safely disposed of’. Alex was fairly certain that was code for, ‘sold to military contractors and big corporations for experimentation’.

Frank had argued against that. He’d pointed out that the Eastern Dragon Empire might want the entire monster corpse because it was now part of the dragon’s remains. But no one had given that a second thought. The false matter of the monster had taken on magical properties of the organic host body. Greed was fueling this whole project. All the people in charge saw were money signs. Billions of dollars of dragon false matter flesh and bones for experimentation with. Not to mention the actual matter of the building, the concrete, steel and… Alex tried not to think about it because every time the words flashed across her mind she vomited.

Organic. Matter.

Too late!

She turned and vomited onto a little strip of grass behind the vehicle she was leaning against. Frank patted her back and gave it a kindly run like he did with his daughters when they had the flu. Such dad energy. Oh, thank God. I stopped thinking about the… before she could stop herself the words ‘Organic Matter’ popped into her inner dialog along with the images of he twisted broken bodies of the factory workers who’d been incorporated into the monster.

She hadn’t known. Not until they removed the first layer of rubble armor from the beast. Like, she’d known, of course. She’d seen the corpses dangling from the monster as it came for her to eat her. But she hadn’t known the true horror of it. That some of them had been alive when they were absorbed. That they hadn’t been fully absorbed. That they’d been conscious and cognitive as the creature formed around them.

Those bodies weren’t going to be buried. Those bodies were… Some aren’t technically bodies yet, are they? A fresh wave of nausea overwhelmed Alex. Yeah, the waste removal specialist and the senior staff had tried to hide it from the FBI and military personnel – none of which were Magic Corps, that were standing guard. But some had seen despite their efforts.

Alex and Frank had already been briefed, four times, on how they needed to keep their mouths shut about what was happening with the…remains. Remains don’t fucking talk and beg for help. An insidious little voice in her head whispered and another vicious abdominal thrust heaved nothing out of her body. She’d done this too many times already.

In the car, an unconscious Sam stirred and whimpered. Frank looked through the back window.

“She’s fine. Just another nightmare.” He watched her thrash feebly in her sleep. When she’d come out of the monster corpse, she’d seemed fine. ‘Seemed’ being the operative word. The exhausted and overspent warlock had not given the slightest hint that there was anything particularly traumatizing inside the monster. Just a regular slaying. Or so everyone thought until about seven hours ago.

After an interminable period of time, Alex felt her stomach settle. She’d started counting. Not counting anything. Just counting. Because if she put objects in her mind it would merge with the visions of the inside of the monster and prolong her agony. The first time, she vomited, she was counting sheep. Because that’s what she always did. Count sheep until she felt better and could control her stomach again. Alex loved sheep. They were adorable. They were her favorite. Her entire desk at work was personalized with sheep paraphernalia.

But no. This time, the images of sheep in her head, instead of jumping over a little fence on a green lawn they had been sucked into the monster and were bleating horribly. Their little fluffy heads struggling to escape while their eyes rolled back in terror. So, now Alex just counted. Seconds.

Because seconds fed her hate. 

It felt like seconds after Sam had defeated the monster that the director of the New York Magic Crimes Division had miraculously appeared with suspicious swiftness as soon as it was safe. Backed up by the combat mages that hadn’t been available to help out the investigative team. And the Army. Where had they been when they were needed? Huh? Why were the Magicorps monster suppression teams being sent awayfrom the fucking monsters? Why wasn’t there anyone who was normally in charge of dealing with monster incursions on site?

Huh?

Why?

Why had so many of her colleagues suffered near fatal or even possibly fatal exposure to magic while fighting that Gods damned zombie monster. And the nausea was gone, replaced by the calm icy burn of rage.

“You good?” Frank patted her back again which just made her annoyed this time now that she was filled with her new favorite emotion of righteous anger. The magic technician straightened and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. A bottle of water was placed before her face, and she took it gratefully. She didn’t gulp it down despite her growing thirst or the fact that today was even warmer than the previous one. That would be stupid and just give her stomach more projectile ammunition. She did swish some around and then spat it out into the grass behind the car.

“I’m fine.” Frank snorted and raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Really?” Rather than get defensive like she wanted to, Alex had to own the fact that he had reason to doubt her words.

“For now.” Then she crossed her arms and went back to glaring between the monster-dragon corpse removal and the command center.

“You’re goin’ to get someone’s attention if you keep glaring at command like that.” How Frank had managed to keep his cool, the young warlock didn’t know. If it had been her giving the briefing, she would have run her mouth something fierce.

“How are you not enraged that they sent us out here with the intention of letting us die. If I hadn’t insisted that Sam and I take this call to keep her out of trouble…” Her voice broke because that coincidence was the only thing that had saved anyone.

What if Sam hadn’t been here? What if she hadn’t been teased in the office to the point of planning her retaliation? What if Alex had said, ‘Fuck it. I don’t care if my partner gets suspended for having a temper tantrum?’

Why hadn’t everyone been sent out to the scene? Why had this happened the way it did. It wasn’t normal. It was not the way that things were done. No one had followed protocol for an event of this size. Especially by not sending out any combat mages to back them up.

“You can’t find out what’s really happening if you let on to everyone else how upset you are.”

It had been a simple sentence that Frank had shared with the younger agent but it was oh so important. Mostly because he was right, and she’d needed to hear someone say it to her. While she and San hadn’t been partners long, Alex had learned that Sam feared no mortal… Because she was teamed up with Gleipnir and they both knew what Gleipnir was capable of. Neither had ever faced true evil though.

Until now.

Now, though neither new it. Well… maybe Gleipnir had been able to glean the situation but had kept silent for the sake of Alex? If something happened right now, the sentient artifact would have to choose between releasing the deadly magic of the dragon corpse he was suppressing to save his warlock or staying there to protect a city. On the other hand – Alex critically eyed the distance between the hill of rubble that was mostly excavated by now – they were parked awfully close to it.

“Hey, Frank?” She was quiet about it. Nonchalant even. And she focused really hard on the distance between the vehicle and the monster being torn apart. Looking at the superior agent and then significantly nodding her head and drawing her eyes in the direction of the thing. “If Gleipnir had to release his hold on that source of magic for some reason, like say to protect Sam from another monster or something, would we be in the pink over here? As close as we are, I mean?”

Shading his eyes against the sun, he made a show of squinting at the distance. Yes, it was another beautiful day. The sky was a gorgeous azure with the occasional fluffy puff of white dancing across it. So, yeah, it could be a little bit difficult to see against the glare.

She tried to hide her annoyed flat look, but Alex really wanted to elbow Frank in the gut about now. Here she was trying to be all inconspicuous about it, and he was making it obvious that they were worried about how close they were. People were going to get suspicious.

“You’re right.” He grumbled loudly in agreement. “If Gleipnir needs to release the dragon to fight in the case of another large monster attack, we will be in the pink zone. You move the car while I go and confer with the bosses about withdrawing non-essential personnel to a safer distance.”

Though inside Alex was freaking out, on the outside, she was casual. Frank was casual about it too. Maybe they were too casual. Sam’s keys were still in the ignition, where Sam had left them when she and Gleipnir had gone to do battle. There was a beautiful silk knotted design hanging from the ring with some tassel threads on the end of it.

A gift from Sam’s pact item Gleipnir.

Starting the engine, Alex began driving the vehicle further from the mound of rubble, flesh, and false matter. In the rear-view mirror, she watched as Frank’s stroll towards the join command passed him close enough by the massive mound or Gleipnir to hear his shout that all non-essential personnel should retreat to a safer radius. Maybe it was an excess of caution. Maybe not.

Sam stirred in her exhausted sleep again. It was clear that she was sensing the increasing distance between herself and her pact item. The wrongness of it pulled at the unnatural slumber she’d fallen into after exhausting herself. Plus, the distinct possibility of magic toxicity. But she’d refused to let herself be evacuated for medical treatment without Gleipnir. The medics had declared her not in eminent danger of death, so the agent had been permitted to stay.

Then she’d fallen asleep.

A message printed itself on the rolling message scroll attached to the dash.

‘Head to the containment facility. I’ll stay with Gleipnir. Frank.’

Alex thought that was a good idea. Sure there were still monsters that hadn’t been caught by the squads around town yet. Sure there was still work to be done to get Gleipnir and the corpse out of town. However, Alex didn’t want to risk Sam realizing what had happened. She didn’t want the warlock known for her temper and her absolute lack of tolerance for those who hurt the weak or neglected their duty as protectors, to figure out that they’d been let to die.

Okay, yeah. One could argue that their superiors knew that Gleipnir had the ability to suppress a Prometheus Pink category magic source, or even the types of monsters that would generate. But multiple sources? Like they’d reported? Multiple monsters?

Come on.

No one could ever argue that one sentient pact item and his young warlock who, by the way, was not a combat mage, could have taken care of that on their own. There we hundreds of people all over the city fighting. Just not the people who mattered. Not the F.B.I. And not a single high ranking Magicorps officer to lead the groups that had been placed under the command of Army personnel.

No. Sam would make the connections eventually. And when she did, she’d be furious. But she had never fought evil. Monsters? Of course. But evil? Real evil? The kind of evil that delayed reinforcements and containment to deliberately give monsters enough time to manifest?

Sam had never met the kind of evil that would sacrifice the largest city in a country for whatever political scheming they planned. They needed to be nowhere near anyone who could observe her when she figured out what was happening. Because Sam would blow her lid. She would rage and Gleipnir would join her fight. They would take out some low-level player in whatever was going on and think they had won. Then one day, while she and Gleipnir were happily living their lives, something would happen to Sam.

Oh, it would look like an accident. They’d be separated conveniently. Then an elevator would fail, or a vehicle would run a red light. Or the containment on one of the devices she was working on would malfunction. And she would be gone. And Gleipnir’s reason for interfering would be gone. Because he’d go to a new warlock. Because in the end, he wasn’t really a person. Not to the gods who had created him. He was a tool to be used and bestowed for power and favor.

12:30 PM September 14th

Manhattan Subways

“All full up, Camina. We’re good to go.” Jim called out to her as he peeked his head around the end of the last subway car and headed toward her.

“All right. Hop on.” Her voice seemed light. Maybe tinged with exhaustion that was being held at bay with too many stamina potions. Underneath it though, the journalist could hear the seething rage that the soldier was feeling. Rage that had been boiling off her aura since she’d run into the group of Magicorps soldiers who had delivered the message about Anna being evacuated to her ‘home’ out of the city by Army personnel.

Oh, yeah. The Harbinger was pissed off. She sure as shit had immediately worked her way to the central command and tried to get answers. Their response? No one knew where Anna had been taken. And that smarmy punk in charge tried to pretend that he didn’t know where Kyle was and hadn’t seen him at all either. It had taken Jim all of five minutes to locate at least ten different monster suppression teams that had worked with Kyle over the course of the afternoon and evening. So, yeah!

Jim was pissed off too.

Camina was The Last Line. And this, this was how their government treated her and her family?

She’d been taken off monster suppression duty and reassigned to evacuation duty. Evacuation duty. Not guarding evacuees or clearing the way for them. No! Actual. Evacuation. Duty.

There were thousands of people from out of state and surrounding cities who’d been trapped on Manhattan Island when the ambient magic levels exploded into the purple – and in some places pink. Now those people were being sent home. Not on busses because a few of he bridges had been damaged in the fighting. But via subway tunel under the river.

Which was fucking stupid because the alchemical waterproofing material that kept the subways from taking in water were also magical insulators. Normally, that’d be a good thing. It protected the electronics from small spikes and passing currents of slightly higher then normal arcanes. However, since the entire island of Manhattan had been flooded with arcanes, the subways had also been flooded with arcanes from the subway entrances.

The emergency systems had worked like they were supposed to so no one had gotten hurt. That was good. It was great. The third rail had shut down when the power in New York had gone out. Backup batteries had been disengaged and the trains’ emergency brakes had locked into place so they didn’t roll on the tracks.

But being a low place, the magical insulation around the tunnels was holding arcanes in them. Arcanes that had no where to go. So the emergency back up batteries could not be connected to the train engines. If they were… BOOOM! Because the batteries weren’t magically insulated. Not against Prometheus Purple or Blue.

And that was another dumb thing about this whole evacuation through the subway plan. Okay, somepeople were being evacuated via bus. But a majority of them were being put on subway cars and sent through the still Prometheus Purple arcane levels of the subway. Why? Why do that when there were perfectly safe Blue levels above ground right now?

Jim glared out the window of the subway car. The tunnel was fairly well-lit. Not dark. Not dim either. Ambient-magic-powered emergency lights both outside the cars on the tunnel walls and inside the cars. Standard just about anywhere in the world. Normally they were just barely enough to see by, but the high level of ambient magic had these quite bright. Nowhere near the same brightness as the regular electric lights inside subway cars. But bright enough.

This was dumb. So dumb. Camina had been assigned to pushsubway cars full of people through a high magic tunnel.

Pushing train cars wasn’t the best idea to begin with. And they’d tried to argue against it. But in the end, orders were orders. Weren’t they?

Jim caught himself as a sudden shift moved the vehicle he stood inside. He filmed through the rear window as Camina braced her hands on the train and pushed. Slowly at first. One step at a time he felt the cars colliding into each other, adding to the immense weight the warlock had to move with her powered armor. Each step came a little bit faster. Within a few minutes, she was jogging behind the train, her arms flexing with each footfall as she strained.

Then there came a point where she could hop onto the stand on the end of the car. After a moment of catching her breath, she positioned her back to make sure it was facing down the tunnel away from the train and turned on her thrusters. A mobile-armored-rocket-suit-powered train. Trip fourteen was off to a smashing good start. Only God knew how many more to go.

While they were moving at a good clip, that was just for now. The first part of their trip went downhill, under the river and the billions of gallons of water above. That whole crossing was fairly quick. It was the uphill slog to leave the river bed that was a slog. Jim had expected Camina’s armor to lose power eventually. It or she hadn’t. There was a well of divine magic fueling her right now.

The warlock herself wasn’t even severely strained. Tired? Yes. Pissed off? Hell yes. But no matter how many times she had to push an entire train loaded with angry frightened passengers up out of the depths, the warlock kept going. A glowing white and blue beacon of hope that never seemed to fade.

Jim suspected that hope wasn’t what was fueling her. It was rage. She’d taken a break a few trips ago to ‘use the little warlocks’ room’ and had disappeared for a few minutes. The rictus of worry that had shadowed her eyes since she’d found out Anna was missing had faded. Jim suspected that she had gotten through to her patron and found out where her daughter was. Why did he think that? Because she was now just furious without the haunted look of a worried mother to balance it out.

2:47 PM September 14th

Some Government facility somewhere relatively close to New York City.

Kyle had never seen a dragon up close before.

No.

That wasn’t strictly true.

He’d seen living dragons in human form. At military or religious ceremonies, across the room at galas that’d he’d attended with his parents or while maintaining delicate displays for the museum during fundraising events. What he’d never seen up close before was a dragon in dragon form. Certainly, never a dead one – that was, baring the few minutes of examination of this dead dragon in dragon form the day prior.

It was different this time. Yesterday, the dragon had just been a source of danger. A puzzle that had to quickly be solved to make the city safe as swiftly as possible. And when that puzzle was solved, it was a moment of triumph and excitement for a young warlock apprenticing in his career field. Yesterday was something to be proud of.

Today it was a corpse.

A dead person.

The dragon had been brought to a facility outfitted with refrigeration and magical insulation that both had features of containment and collection. The magic collectors were removable, so once they were full, they could be replaced with empty ones. They were harvesting the arcanes the dragon gave off through the natural decomposition process. True, being chilled slowed organic decomposition, but arcanes came off a dragon corpse whether it was rotting or not. Those arcanes needed to be contained.

In Kyle’s opinion, the arcanes didn’t also need to be… harvested. Because that’s what they – whoever had set up this facility, that is – were doing with the magic this poor dead dragon was giving off as the moving truck around it was dismantled. Or maybe they did. Insulating the corpse to prevent magical contamination from it getting out into civilization was all well and good, but how safe would that make working around it in a forensic capacity?

Those were questions of morality that a certain young warlock struggled with as he watched with as much detachment as he could muster. Now, Kyle wasn’t necessarily cynical, but this facility was entirely too convenient. He was standing in an observation room on a second floor with reinforced glass windows looking down at the dragon from above… Ish. It was above-ish.

“It’s a bit on the small side, isn’t it?” That was Jones, stoically standing beside Kyle trying to make small talk while his groggy sister snickered at him from a chair. Before the Warlock of the Archivist could answer, another voice spoke up.

“It’s probably young then, right?” Kyle turned from the macabre scene before him to glance at the speaker. His sister’s partner, Alex, he thought her name was had finally looked up from worriedly watching Sam to participate in the discussion.

“That’s…,” Kyle hesitated because, “Eeh…maaaybee.” It came out a little higher and more unsure sounding than he’d intended and he felt himself flush with embarrassment as Sam chuckled over her second cup of coffee. He’d considered offering her one of the stamina potions that were a standard part of a museum field kit, buuuuttt…

“You don’t even have an idea?” She shook her head. “This is not looking good for you baby brother.” He’d been trying. Really Kyle had been trying to keep their sibling issues separate, but Sam – was SAM ! His face and voice turned cold.

“Youth is just one of the many reasons this particular Eastern Dragon could be so small, Sam.” He shot back with as little hostility as he could manage. Couldn’t she just be, not… this… for one freaking day? “But sure, I could be an irresponsible jerk and make the assumption that it’s small because the elders let a teenage dragon, the equivilent of a human fucking baby loose in America. You know what dragons are like with their young. How protective they are. Why would anyone assume that a dragon child would be dead in an American city? Or that a dragon child could have enough magic to kill a city’s magic collector?”

There were more reasons not to assume this dragon’s small size was due to youth. Yet Kyle didn’t have the heart to fight Sam like normal because her face, that was already paler than normal, blanched a sickly ashen shade. Her eyes lost some of their spark and a haunted expression stole across her countenance settling there like a shadow.

“The other dragon was an adult.” It was quiet. Voice hoarse and thready with barely the strength to sustain itself. Those whispered words flowed through the room and stole some of the light out of it and a little bit of the joy that might ever be in the world.

Her words were significant not because she’d put any emphasis on any of them. Because she didn’t. They were important in and of themselves.

“Adult dragons don’t just die like that.” She was haunted by whatever she’d seen while Kyle had been of saving their younger sister. “Not with so much magic sublimation that living bodies are subsumed into a monster manifestation.” Setting his jaw in a tight clench, Kyle tried not to snap at his sister. He knew. He knew these things. And yet…

“You’re right.” Sighing, he turned back to the bloody efforts below to separate the corpse from the truck without damaging it too much. “And while dragon corpses give off significant levels of arcanes, the amount of magic that flooded the city should have taken hours, days, weeks, months, maybe even years to build up depending on circumstances. Even now, this corpse is losing arcanes faster than it should be.”

“It doesn’t seem that small.” Alex offered hesitantly. “Maybe it’s not a young dragon? It’s almost as tall as this floor.” That amused Kyle a little bit. Either this woman actually had no idea. Or she was deliberately trying to distract everyone by getting Kyle into an informative lecture on the dragon.

“Eastern Dragons can get quite tall in the diameter of their bodies as well as very long.” The warlock’s voice took on the lecture tone he used when giving tours at the museum. “Fully grown adult bodies can be two to three times the diameter of this one on average. Elder dragons will have a body diameter as tall as this floor. This one,” he gestured down at the busy scene below them, “has been squished up into a cube that was over a story tall. So, while that volume makes this dragon seem like it is quite large, it’s really just an opical illusion. Once it’s unfurled and laid out, we’ll get a better sense of its real dimensions.”

“Or you could just cast one of those handy Archivist spells you have for examining things and be done with that already.” Damn it Sam. Kyle could not work with her snarkiness. Regardless, he put his foot down and played a hand that was little more than an educated guess.

“No one is casting magic on that corpse until we see what is in that truck that killed it.”