“And the stuff you find on the Internet?” I replied. “Any of it real?”
“Have you tried it?” Oswald smirked, crossing his arms.
“Nope.”
“Good. Don’t. It’s all a waste of time. None of it works. We just put a lot of bogus lore out there to keep the humans busy. Not that they’d be able to perform any of it, anyway, but we’ve been deceiving humanity with made-up magic rituals for millennia. That’s something you’ll better understand once you start attending Mr. Ickes’s classes,” replied Oswald. He nodded at the warlock standing next to him.
“Speaking of which, Harley, meet Lasher Ickes.” Alton continued with the introductions. “The preceptor of Coven and Magical History. He’s in charge of all our archives and historical documents and teaches our culture from its earliest days to the present, including our brushes with mankind.”
“Like the Salem witch trials and so on?” I asked.
“Yes.” Lasher nodded. He was slightly taller than me and wiry, with pale blond hair, watery blue eyes, and glasses, looking like the typical nerd you’d find in the Sunday newspaper cartoons.
“Not a man of many words, I see,” I murmured, as he smiled and shook my hand.
“Lasher is shy by nature,” Alton replied with amusement, “but he’s also very strict and an accomplished historian. I think he’ll have a lot of answers for you, Harley. And last, but certainly not least, meet Marianne Gracelyn, preceptor of Herbalism.”
Marianne was a beautiful young witch with long red hair. Her bell-shaped jeans, loose cotton shirt, and plethora of colored beads and feathers reminded me of a hippie thrift store, in a good way. There was just something positive beaming out of her, though I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Hi, Harley.” Marianne smiled, and we shook hands. The moment my skin touched hers, I was inundated with a sense of calm and serenity—like Ryann times a hundred. If there was one word I could use to describe Marianne, it was “good.” Just good, and kind, and decent. Rarely did I form an opinion about someone so quickly, but when that happened, it was set in stone. I was never wrong.
“So, herbalism, huh?” I asked.
“Mm-hm,” she said with a wink. “It’s mostly stuff of Wiccan origin, healing potions, growth spells with herbs and crystals. The whole worship-Mother-Earth thing, basically. It might sound romantic, but we have a rich culture of herbalism, and everything I teach is bound to come in handy sooner or later. I’m directly connected to the earth.”
We all looked at each other for a few moments, as if they were giving me some time to adjust to all the new faces and names. I got a positive vibe out of all of this. Alton was right—if I was looking for someone who could provide me with answers, these preceptors were the people to talk to.
“Now, to clarify, we need to bring your life in order,” Alton said, while the preceptors listened with interest. “All our students take part-time or full-time jobs at the Science Center, as part of an adjustment period. We’ve recently filled all our reception positions, but we do have a couple of open spots in the Archives and Library. One is yours.”
“I already have a job,” I said, frowning slightly.
“Spotting cheaters in a casino?” Alton replied, raising an eyebrow. “Surely we can put your gifts to better use here, Harley.”
“In the Archives and Library?” I shot back.
“No, that will be your cover. Working a human job in the beginning is an essential way of helping a magical fully integrate into human society. It’s also a steady source of income, especially since I’ve gotten the Center to increase its salaries,” Alton said. “You’ll only be working for three to four hours, four days a week, and it will be enough to keep you financially satisfied.”
“Dude, I’ve got rent to pay. On a good night at the casino I walk out with three grand,” I replied, shaking my head. “I’m saving up for college. How well does your museum job pay, for me to give up on the casino?”
“It’s only for a month, to begin with. Just to see how you would fare with a job at the Center,” Alton explained. “Whatever you make in a month at the casino, on average, I will make sure to pay through the Archives and Library. You have my word on that. After the trial period is over, we can assess everything and see what the best options are, for you and for us. I doubt the casino would refuse to take you back in a month. I understand you’re quite skilled.”
His appreciative smile succeeded in tickling my little ego. I thrived on validation, anyway. Whenever Malcolm told me I did a good job, I was over the moon and eager to start the next shift. And, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, Alton was right. The casino would have no problem with taking me back.
“I’d also like for you to move in here for the trial month,” Alton continued, and I instantly shook my head.
That wasn’t going to happen, for two reasons. First, I needed to give a three-month notice if I planned to move—I’d signed a crappy lease. And second, I didn’t want the coven to have that much control over my life. It was enough that they were going to employ me and teach me, and basically feed me. I didn’t feel comfortable with them putting a roof over my head. After all my foster experiences, that was just a big fat no.
“I can’t just move out of my apartment that easily,” I replied. “And besides, we need to get to know each other a little better before I give the coven that much control over my life.”
Alton thought about it for a couple of seconds, then pursed his lips and nodded in agreement.
“Fair enough. I’ll let you think about it some more, then,” he said, scratching his chin. “I need to do an in-depth assessment in the meantime. There’s something about you, a few inconsistencies I need to figure out.”
“What inconsistencies?” I felt something tug at my stomach.
“Nothing to worry about,” he replied. “I’m just curious about your abilities versus your magical strength. It’s just never happened before, not with a full Elemental, anyway. We’ll look into it later, not to worry.”
“What are you talking about, Alton?” Jacintha asked.
“Harley here has control of all four elements, plus Telekinesis and Empathy.” Alton beamed with pride, then frowned. “But the power inside her… it’s stifled. Reduced. She’s a Mediocre.”
“How on earth did that happen?” Oswald exclaimed, surprised.
Alton shrugged. “No idea whatsoever.”
“What about her parents?” Marianne asked.
“I don’t have a family. I was in the foster system my whole life. The closest thing I had to a family were the Smiths, my last foster parents. I’m an orphan.” I sighed. It wasn’t something I could ever say with ease. My throat closed up whenever the word “orphan” rolled off my tongue. It still hurt, even after all those years.
A thought crossed my mind then—that I could maybe find a way to dig into the archives and find out who my parents were. I’d considered it before, but I never knew where to start, given that my parents’ names were unknown. At least now I had the confirmation that they were magical. Surely, the coven must’ve kept records. It was an extra reason to at least stick around for that month and find a way to access those archives. Alton had said that I had limited access to this place, so I either had to convince him to help me, or find a way to sneak in.
The only problem was that I didn’t even know where to start my search. All I had from my parents was the note, and even that didn’t yield any useful information, just the same words that kept blaring in the back of my head.
Stay safe. Stay smart.
Chapter Ten
After we left the preceptors in the study hall, Alton took me to another part of the coven, at the opposite end of the hallway. I followed him through a series of narrow corridors. The deeper we went, the tighter the walls got around me, and the smaller I felt.
“You said earlier that there were a lot of eyes on the coven these days,” I said. “What did you mean by that?”
“I’m just about to show you, actually,” Alton replied softly, as we stopped in front of another door. The corridor seemed to warp around it, as the door itself was significantly taller. It was as if whatever lay beyond it had been added last, and the coven’s structure had had to adjust like play dough, stretching beyond its predefined limits.
The walls were covered in dark-purple-and-black wallpaper, loyal to the neo-Gothic aesthetic, and the door was glazed in shiny black paint. A metal plaque was mounted at eye level: The Bestiary. Alton turned the doorknob, and we both went in. I stopped as soon as the door closed behind me, stunned by the colossal weirdness unfolding before my very eyes.
The Bestiary was an enormous egg-shaped hall with what seemed like a series of walls and stairs cutting through it on multiple levels, creating a complicated yet fascinating 3D maze made entirely from dark gray marble with brass railings and wall-mounted sconces. The light refracted through a series of randomly placed glass and mirror lenses—until I realized their positions weren’t random at all. I could see every corner, every nook and cranny of that place in all the reflective surfaces.
“Whoa,” I gasped, trying to wrap my head around the optics of it all. This was either an incredible feat of physics and geometry, or really cool magic. Given where I was, both were equally possible.
“This is the Bestiary,” Alton said. He stopped several feet ahead, then turned to face me. “Remember we talked about Purges earlier?”
I nodded, my mouth wide open as I stared at the immense structure. From what I could see in various mirrors, this was almost like a shrine, with a multitude of thick glass boxes in a variety of sizes. I caught glimpses of movement here and there, but nothing clear, nothing I could identify.
There were also sounds—hissing, crinkling, and purring—bringing the term “bestiary” to a more literal description. They were keeping some kinds of creatures in here, but to what end?