Before coming to the school, she had paid almost no attention to the media or the internet social sites. But after being shown what was going on in the social media world, she realized that not following what was being said could be very dangerous; both to her and to the school. Especially as there were real threats against Sherry and those with the various powers.
This fear was brought to the forefront of Butterfly’s thought when she had been told of how a crime lord tried to have Sherry assassinated. Thankfully, Jenny had been there when she was shot and was able to stabilize and ultimately heal Sherry. And then there was the recovery of the clan of elves from the labs of an international corporation. Sherry had led a task force of FBI agents and her own strike team to save them. Unfortunately, they were too late to save several members of the clan, most of who had apparently been vivisected by the lab techs, who considered them little more than animals. Thankfully, they wouldn’t be around any longer to perform their evil. The FBI had found a treasure trove of documents linking several mega-corporations to the lab. However, the entities were so powerful that the government found itself unable to proceed against them. Butterfly did find it interesting that there was a spate of unexplained ‘suicides’ of high-ranking corporate officials, all linked to those same corporations.
She’d tried not to worry about the hostility of some people towards magic users, the threats that had been made, but it was in the back of her mind that late September evening. Even in south Louisiana, fall was in the air. The leaves on the oaks were starting to change, and there was a dusty smell that fall brings to the land, even among the evergreen pines and magnolias. Butterfly was walking with Lynda along the path that headed towards River Road. The path followed the drive, winding among the magnolias and oaks before swinging around and heading back towards the school. Miss Lagrone’s landscaping crew had installed benches along the path, along with landscape lighting so people wouldn’t step on a snake or an alligator, both of which were ubiquitous in south Louisiana.
It was the weekend and a bunch of the older students had decided to go into New Orleans and the French Quarter for the evening. Lynda had been invited but had decided to stay at the school and was walking along the path with Butterfly. It was warm, but a weak front had blown through, so the often-oppressive humidity was gone. It was a great night to be out under the stars. Butterfly stopped at a bench, and Lynda plopped down beside her. “We haven’t had time to talk lately, you and I,” Lynda began, then stopped as Larry Rogers, one of the security guards walked past. They nodded. “Hey, Larry. How’s everything?” Butterfly asked conversationally.
“Oh, it’s been quiet these last few days,” he replied stopping, but keeping his head on a swivel. “You two really need to be around on the back side of the school, where you’re screened from the road, though.”
“Why? What’s up?” Lynda asked, glancing around.
“There’s been some odd vehicles driving by, odder than usual. Usually vans or SUVs with blacked out glass. Gunner thinks something is up, and has added more guards on night patrol.”
As they talked, the wind shifted. Lynda’s eyes grew wide. “Larry! Someone else is here, close by. I can smell them.” With that, she stood and started to change as Larry keyed his mike; but before he could say anything, he grabbed his neck and collapsed to the path unconscious.
Lynda gawked at him for a moment, and then grabbed Butterfly, jerking her to her feet. “Run! Get out of here. Larry’s been shot with a dart. Now go! I’ll try…” She jerked, her hand going to her side. Even as she turned, growling, her eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed unconscious at Butterfly’s feet. Butterfly’s training kicked in; even as her eyes grew huge at Lynda lying before her, she threw up a shield around them. She looked around and saw dark shadows moving along the tree line.
She focused, using her power to listen.There was a rustling among the brush and then a voice: “We have two down, missed the third one, but she’s just standing there. Sniper, take the shot.” She heard what sounded like a hiss; her eyes grew wide as a dart hit her shield right in front of her eyes, dropping to the ground. Damn. They’re trying to kidnap us. They’re trying to get ME!
Even as her mind shied from that thought, the men quickly moved through the trees towards her, only moments away now. Fight, girl. Fight like Angelina is after you. Damn you, fight!Her mind cleared in that moment. She glanced at Larry, but by the time she got to the radio, the men would be there and she didn’t know how long she could hold her shield up against them. As they closed in, she could see they had goggles on their faces. Since coming to the school, she’d played enough Call of Duty to recognize the light-enhancing goggles. Well, if they want light, I’ll give them light, she thought tightly.
Focusing herself, she grabbed the power around her, focused it into one huge ball of light and turned it loose while closing her eyes. She heard yells from the men as they were blinded by the light. Opening her eyes as the light around her returned to that of a well-lit landscape, she saw six men staggering around. Pulling the energy in again, she took each out with a force punch to the head. She looked around, and then looking up, shot a ball of red light, like a flare, into the night sky. That should get security coming.
Keeping her shields up, she cautiously approached the men. Stopping in front of one, making sure he was unconscious, she kneeled by him, removed the earpiece from under his helmet, and held it up to her ear. There was a buzz of a squelch, then a voice. “Team 1, come in. Team 1. Report.” There was silence, then, “Team 2. Abort, repeat abort. Assemble at Point Able.” Again silence, then, “Team 2, copy. Be advised we have one of the targets. Repeat, we have one retrieval.”
Butterfly stood, the earpiece ripped unnoticed from her ear. They’ve kidnapped someone.She looked around frantically. Where are they?A small ball of light appeared next to her as Masine, one of the fairies that hovered around the school, appeared. Butterfly glanced around at the fairy. She could hear security coming but there wasn’t time to waste; the other kidnappers were leaving now!
“Masine, please, get all your friends. One of us has been kidnapped, and they’re trying to get away right now. Please, try to find them.” The fairy nodded, and then seemed to disappear; but even as Butterfly looked around trying to see the other kidnappers, lights began flickering everywhere. The quick-response team from security came pounding up, forming a perimeter around the three. As Butterfly breathlessly explained what was happening, one of the team who apparently was a medic began checking Lynda and Larry out. In just a few moments, he nodded that they would be all right, were just knocked out.
Even as Butterfly took a sigh of relief, Masine reappeared. “They’re trying to escape along the service road just east of here. They’re carrying one of the elves from the temporary shelters. We have to hurry.”
“Show us,” Butterfly commanded, chasing after Masine as she led off across the lawn. Butterfly pulled on the energy to give herself more speed, more stamina even though she knew her body would pay for it later. Quickly outpacing the security team, she reached the point where the dirt access road met River Road. “Where are they?” she asked as she erected her shield again.
Masine landed on her shoulder. “They heard you. They’ve stopped just a few yards back in the shadows.” Even as she spoke, shadows rose out from the bushes, becoming armed men, one with another person slung over his shoulder.
There came the hiss again, and a dart slammed into the shield. Butterfly flinched, but stood her ground. They can’t pass. I can’t let them. They’re no better than the bullies at school. I won’t run again!
One of the shadows nodded, and then as one, the men charged Butterfly. She nailed the one carrying the elf, as well as two of the leaders, but the remaining two pile-drove into her shield, forcing her back. She tripped and fell, the impact shaking her, almost making her lose her concentration. Then one of the men pulled out a suppressed pistol and began shooting at her while holding her down.
Butterfly
’s eyes flew wide. Scared beyond belief now, she knew she couldn’t keep lying there. Sooner or later, her shield would fail and she would be dead. That moment in school when Angelina came at her with a knife came back to her. Her eyes narrowed. ”I wouldn’t let Angelina kill me, and I damn sure not going to let you either,” she growled and pushed with all her might.
The two men flew well into the sky, crashing into the trees along the road.
Butterfly slowly and painfully rose from the pavement, standing shakily but safe. As she stood there, the security team arrived and began rounding up the second set of kidnappers. Unnoticed by the security team, a dark van parked down the road cranked up and, without lights, drove away.
Later that evening, Lynda woke up in the school infirmary to find Butterfly sitting next to her. “How are you feeling?” Butterfly asked.
“Like a Bourbon Street party hangover. That’s how I feel. What happened?” she asked.
Gunner Williams, head of security, came walking up to the two. “What happened is that you and one of my guards were taken out by tranquilizer darts. You don’t remember?”
“Uh uh. I remember talking to Larry, he…fell? And then,” she shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Well, I’ll let Butterfly, here, fill you in. Elaine says you’ll be okay by morning as the drugs wear off. We’ll talk then.” With that, he wandered on down to visit the others.
Butterfly reached out and took Lynda’s hand. “You’ll be all right. Now go back to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.” As she watched, Lynda’s eyes closed again as she drifted off.
She jerked as a hand fell on her shoulder. Glancing around, she saw Sherry Martin standing there, along with Rafe McMahan.
“Butterfly, you did very well tonight,” Sherry said, drawing a chair up with a motion of her hand and sitting down beside her. “You protected your friend along with others tonight, stopping an attempt at abducting people who look to us to make this a safe place. You should know that we are very proud of you. You could have frozen; you could have not brought your shield up in time; you could have not taken the initiative to stop the second team of kidnappers. But you didn’t do any of those things. You rose to the occasion and did what you believed needed doing. Thank you.”
Butterfly looked at Sherry with Rafe standing behind her, and then back to Lynda, a woman who had become her friend, a friend that she had saved, lying safely in bed when she could have been kidnapped, along with Butterfly. She closed her eyes, saying a prayer for whatever brought her to this school, this home.For this school, these people, no matter their shape, their previous lives, these were her friends, her family. This was where she belonged, and where she would stay for as long as she could.
Roger D. Strahan is the author of several books, the most recent being "The Witch of New Orleans" and the sequel, "The Awakening-The Witch of New Orleans Book 2". He is by trade a real estate broker and appraiser, with years of technical writing for various governmental entities as well as editing other writers. On the side, he has performed on stage and done semi-professional stage lighting for various companies. Now semi-retired, he lives in Florida with his wife and two dogs.
How to Get into a Magic School
Erin N.H. Furby
A friend’s precocious 3rd Grade class had many questions about how talented students with no family background in magic prepared for their first year as a student at a beloved magical school. Since I have insider-knowledge about this process, I thought I would answer the question with an example. Results may vary from school to school.
How to Get into a Magical School
Once everyone else in the testing center was gone for the day, Topher Evans’ real job began. After all the test takers had been picked up by their parents and the other proctors clocked out, he logged into his Ouroboros Industries employee account so he could print the “OI Results Report_Regional Recruiting.txt”. This gave him the testing analysis of all the computer-based tests taken that day in Alaska and the western Canadian provinces. He received an error message: “Two tests still in progress.” It was 3:48 p.m. One of the other testing centers must take later appointments than they did here in Anchorage, Alaska. While he waited to print the regional report, he sent his short stack of paper tests through the answer sheet reader.
The analyses of the paper tests for the region would not be available until the following morning, so he did not usually bother to do this until right before he left work. With only eight paper tests today, the results of those he had supervised might possibly be ready before the daily regional report printed. If he had to wait around to print that report, Topher figured he might as well get a jump start on the work he would have to do in the morning.
Topher glanced over each test report as it came out of the printer and immediately shredded it. With his perfect eidetic memory, he would be able to read everything he had glanced after the documents had been destroyed. This would prevent anyone outside of Ouroboros Industries from learning the recruiting techniques and criteria written into the assessment tests used by more and more school districts. O.I. openly used test scores to find candidates for scholarships to elite universities and prep schools across North America, but what most people didn’t know was that they also used the year-end grade completion assessments to find students with magical ability in order to repopulate the communities of the Wise after so many of the previous generations of sorcerers and sorceresses had been killed in the Terrible Years.
Topher’s summer job was ostensibly to proctor the private and homeschool students who took assessments at the testing center in order to prove to the state of Alaska that they were keeping up with the educational standards of the public schools. The work was not very demanding; a perfectly normal part-time job for a college student. What the other employees at the testing center didn’t realize was that he was also hired to make first contact with families whose children showed a high likelihood of having magical ability but knew nothing about the existence of magic, those whom the magical World of the Wise called Unwary. Such students would be invited to apply for the O.I. scholarship program and participate in another battery of assessments and interviews that would determine if they had sufficient magical talent and could qualify for admission to one of the colleges or high schools that taught one of the sorcerous arts.
The highest caliber students, those who had a broad aptitude for magic and academics, earned scholarships to Roanoke Academy for the Sorcerous Arts, the only school in the world that taught all seven of the sorcerous arts. This was the school Topher had attended for the last five years and where he had met William Locke, the son of one of the founders of Ouroboros Industries. Topher was determined to prove that he had earned his position by merit and not because of his friendship with William.
The two Arctic regions were the least populated recruiting areas in North America but such remote environs tended to provide excellent hiding places for communities of the Wise and also the talented Unwary who naturally tended to make their homes where people would be less likely to discover their unusual talents. Topher considered it a toss-up whether he would find anyone in his first summer as a recruiter; it sometimes took years for a new recruiter to find their first Roanoke candidate. Still, this was an excellent opportunity and one that allowed him to live at home with his family for the summer.
It was true that Topher could work just about anywhere in the world and still make it home to Chase, Alaska for dinner each night by Walking Glass, but there was something about actually being close to home. Chase was a couple of hours from Anchorage by road, just past the small town of Talkeetna, not that anyone ever noticed it. The U.S. census listed 27 residents in Chase but that did not count the inhabitants of the magically-obscured village of the Wise that was home to the Evans family and others like them who preferred to live far from the hustle and bustle of the Unwary world.
Topher was already reviewing the analyses of his paper tests by the time he could run the daily regional report. One test ca
ught his attention. The student was Themistocles Ferguson. He had essentially maxed out the whole eighth-grade test, including the hidden markers for magical potential. His family lived in Talkeetna, just a few miles down the highway from Topher’s house. According to his memory, Themistocles was the youngest of the Ferguson kids and his family called him Temmy.
Topher had a passing acquaintance with the Fergusons and used to play hockey with Temmy’s older brother, Hesiod. Mrs. Ferguson’s family had farmed that homestead since the 1930s. The Fergusons seemed to keep to themselves, worked hard, and homeschooled their kids, just like many other homesteading families in Alaska. Topher had to admit that he had lost track of most of his Unwary friends and neighbors since he started attending Roanoke Academy his freshman year of high school. It was entirely possible that the whole family had magical talent but kept to themselves so much that they never discovered the obscured village of the Wise, inhabited exclusively by sorcerous families, just a few miles north of their land.
Since he was still at work, Topher submitted a candidate report for Temmy and called Mrs. Ferguson to try to schedule a preliminary interview. This could turn out to be quite a feather in his recruiter cap.
The early morning sun shone high and bright through the flowering trees. It was not yet 8:00 a.m. and the sun had risen hours ago. Topher imagined that the Fergusons’ had been up almost that long also. They were farmers, known for being the largest local suppliers of apples and honey to the Denali Brewing Co. just a few miles away. For being on the road system, the Leafson Homestead, named for Mrs. Ferguson’s family, felt pretty remote situated in the southern part of the Bartlett Hills. It would not surprise him if this family was filled with magical talent that had gone unnoticed for generations. Whoever got close enough to them to see if they did things strangely by mundane standards?
Fantastic Schools: Volume One (Fantastic Schools Anthologies Book 1) Page 28
