by Corey Edward
Whatever that thing had been, it was gone now.
That was the good news.
The bad news was the fact that it’d been there in the first place.
A cold sensation slithered up my spine as the grin vanished. The remnant, I was sure, of some sort of portal that'd been opened to another dimension. I clenched my fists and raised a shield against the darkness, picturing a cone of pure white light surrounding me and my friends.
“This is where it was,” I said to Miss Delaney. Not a question, but a statement. “Back here, near this window.”
“Yes,” she replied. “How did you-”
“I can feel it. Something opened a portal here.”
“Was it a Darkon?” asked Frankie. “That… is what they’re called, right?”
I nodded. “I think so. I can sense the taint of the Nether Realm still lingering in the air. It feels like this… this deep emptiness. I wish I had Rusty with me; he would give me the strength needed to cleanse the air.”
“He may not be here with you, but we are, Henry,” said Enisa comfortingly.
“I know. Can we all join hands for a sec? I’m afraid that whatever it is could still come back if the portal it traveled through isn’t completely sealed.”
I held out both of my hands, and Frankie and Enisa both inched forward and grabbed them. Miss Delaney then grabbed theirs, forming a circle that included the four of us. I closed my eyes and saw the cone of protection I’d raised earlier. This time I imagined its light shining brighter, bright enough to stamp out the darkness.
“Magic light, cleanse this space,” I said. “Banish darkness and evil erase.”
In its simplest form, Mana was nothing more than pure energy. It is the building block of the Cosmos that makes up every living organism, from the tiniest atom to the largest elephant. Science has no means of detecting Mana, but it could be felt everywhere there is light, from the birth of a newborn child to the bliss of falling in love. Spellcrafters, unlike humans, had high concentrations of Mana in our blood. And that’s what allowed us to use it to create magic.
Not all sources of Mana were good, however. Some of them were pure evil, radiating from the darkest realms of the Cosmos, where only monstrosities exist. Those who turned to this source of energy were called Darkcrafters, and their magic brought nothing but destruction and chaos.
With the help of my friends, I was able to generate enough of the light to drive out the darkness left behind by the grinning man. I spread out the light so that it touched every empty space in the library, leaving no corners where the shadows could remain and fester. After a few minutes, all of the negativity and rot had gone out.
The library was safe once again.
“It feels like a big breath of fresh air in here,” said Miss Delaney. “Thank you, children. I know I can always depend on you.”
“No problem, Miss D,” said Frankie. “It was really Henry that did all the work, though. We just provided the hands.”
“You guys do more than you know,” I said. “I’d be totally lost without -”
The slow, rambling creak of the library door interrupted me in the middle of my sentence. Everyone in the room froze. Everyone, that is, except for the girl who slowly walked in, looking as lost and confused as a blind woman in the wilderness.
She was short — shorter than me, anyway — but her presence alone was enough to fill up the room. Her long, straight hair was the color of chestnuts and her eyeliner-rimmed eyes were a piercing shade of green. She was wearing a lacy blue blouse, black skirt, and matching stockings that dipped into low top Chucks. Hanging from her shoulder was a fancy purple coach purse with a black ribbon tied across the front. Classic goth getup, but with an elegant edge.
I knew there was something different about her from the moment she entered. She changed the energy of the library in an almost fiery manner, dirtying up the fresh light magic and making it just a touch grayer.
Magic! My heart skipped an excited little beat. Of course! She must be a witch!
A witch. Here, at Dunwich. Great Merlin, I felt like I was about to explode. What were the odds? I felt like dancing. Like leaping onto a broom and taking to the skies. It was so rare to encounter another Spellcrafter in the wild, and I’d never once met another my age. I wanted so desperately to pull Frankie and Enisa aside and tell them that it almost ached.
But I couldn’t let it show. Not every Spellcrafter wanted to be outed. I’d have to hide my knowledge until I was comfortable enough to share it with her.
“Hello?” she called shyly into the darkness of the library. “Anyone home? I know the sign says you’re closed, but I’m new here and have no idea where to go, so…”
Miss Delaney sprang into action, leaving the YA section behind and moving toward her at a swift pace. She saw her library as a refuge for wayward teens, after all, and this one looked just as wayward as we did.
“Oh, don’t you worry none about the sign, my dear,” she said, waving it off as she flipped on the lights. “That was only temporary while we took care of a problem. You are?”
“Um, my name’s Molly,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear. “Molly Bancroft. I’m a sophomore. Sorry if I interrupted anything important.”
“No need for apologies. I’m Miss Delaney, librarian. And these are the three most wonderful students in the entire school: Henry, Frankie, and Enisa. They’re sophomores, too.”
Molly waved, greeting us all at once. I met her eyes and she met mine, and I wondered if she knew the same way that I knew.
“Miss Delaney’s the best librarian in the state of Massachusetts,” said Frankie. “Don’t let her humble act fool you. She collects books like a dragon collects diamonds.”
“And teenage outcasts,” I added. “We all seem to find our way to her library, in one way or another.”
“Then sounds like I’m in the right place,” Molly replied. “Except, uh… not literally. I’m actually looking for room one-twenty two.
“I’m supposed to be in that room right now,” I said. “I can walk you if you’d like. You’ll be the perfect excuse for my lateness.”
She looked at me as if he were studying me, debating whether or not I was worth following.
I knew I was coming on strong, but I couldn’t help myself. An actual witch in Dunwich High. I wasn't alone; not anymore.
“Well, I guess it’s time we went to class before we’re sentenced to DISS yet again,” Enisa said, probably out of a desire to break that incredibly tense silence. “Let us know if that problem comes back, Miss D.”
“Oh, I will,” she said with a coy little wink. “Have a nice day, children.”
We made our way to the library doors and I bade goodbye to Frankie and Enisa, happy to meet another Spellcrafter my age at long last.
~&~
History was an eternity away from the library, so I had plenty of time to make small talk with Molly on the walk there. I didn’t think I’d be able to squeeze a full-on interrogation out of her, but at least I could figure out more about her past.
“So, Molly,” I began after an awkward little silence. “Where’d you go to school before you came here?”
“A place called Miskatonic Academy,” she replied, smooth as silk. “Maybe you've heard of it?”
I almost stopped walking right then and there. As far as I knew, there was only one school in the world that went by that title — and it educated Spellcrafters only. Rich Spellcrafters from influential families, might I add, which didn’t include me.
If I was a human, I wouldn’t have heard of it at all. It was hidden to all who weren’t Spellcrafters, so that only those with Mana in their blood could even know that it was there in the first place. All they’d see if they looked at it were the ruins of an old cathedral.
“Never,” I lied.
Was she testing me? Maybe. If so, did I pass… or did I fail?
“You’re not missing much. It’s just this ritzy private school for spoiled rich kids and t
heir spoiled rich families. I never fit in there.”
“Hate to break it to you, but that sounds a lot like Dunwich.”
She smiled. “I think you’d be surprised how different they are.”
“Why’d you leave, then?”
“You want the truth or the story they told me to tell?”
“Whichever one you feel comfortable with.”
“That’s neither one of them.”
“Then, the truth.”
But would she actually say it? And if she was brave enough to say it, could I?
“I got blamed for something I didn’t actually do. Something so bad that they expelled me for it. Now, well… here I am.”
Here she was. A witch in disguise, or maybe not. Maybe it was me who was in disguise. But what could possibly have gotten someone expelled from Miskatonic Academy? I could only imagine the possibilities, and none of them were pleasant.
“We’re happy to have you here, don’t get me wrong. And hey, let’s face it; you kinda struck gold when you met us. It’s like Miss Delaney said: we’re totally the coolest kids in the whole school. It’s everyone else’s fault that they don’t recognize it.”
“I see.” She smiled. “How lucky for me, then.”
We were almost at the classroom and I was nowhere near broaching the topic of the paranormal. I wanted to say something else — something spooky about the school, maybe — but then the door swung open and nearly hit me in the face.
It was Mr. Broomsetter, the world’s most Stalin-esque history teacher ever, complete with a bushy mustache and genocidal attitude. He looked Molly and I over and seemed to be debating with himself whether he should simply slam the door in our faces and lock it.
“You’re late again, Candle,” he grunted as if this should surprise him even though it happened at least once a week. “And… you’ve brought a friend?”
The class behind him laughed, but he remained stoic.
“A new student, actually,” I replied, happy to take the focus off of me. “Molly, meet Mr. Broomsetter. Mr. Broomsetter, meet — ”
“I know who she is,” he snapped, giving Molly a too-firm shake of the hand. “I check my emails, unlike certain other teachers in this school. She can sit at the empty desk in front of you.”
Molly nodded once and we slipped into the room, taking our seats near the back. Forever a backseat rider, that was me. If Molly hung out with us for longer than today, it’d be her, too.
The lecture on the Indian American War continued almost instantly, as if we had never interrupted in the first place. I eased open a Stephen King novel and Molly slid out a notebook, doodling away. I took periodic glances over her shoulder as she worked, interested to see what she was creating.
At first, the lines were unformed, misshapen, and abstract. As the period dragged on, however, they took more of a shape.
A familiar shape.
She worked through the lecture, diligent and unceasing. Lines curved, turning to circles, and pencil strokes met and turned solid. By the time the bell rang, her drawing was complete: a floating, bloodshot eyeball-monster with writhing tentacles. I recognized it instantly from the eighth page of the Dictionary Infernal. It was a Gorgon, a breed of Darkon that could paralyze with a single gaze. The drawing was an almost exact replica of the one in the Dictionary.
That meant she had seen it before.
I slipped out my phone and sent Enisa and Frankie a text:
SHE KNOWS.
Six
Henry Candle, Star Reporter
I met Frankie and Enisa way back in the most secluded corner of the cafeteria, right next to the broken vending machines and a dusty food group poster. It was the best lunch spot in the school because of its remote location, meaning we didn’t have to worry about dodging any stray pieces of food or nasty words that might get flung our way.
They had beaten me to the table and were already chowing down on a pair of questionable chicken patty sandwiches and soggy fries by the time I arrived. Luckily, I had packed my own lunch in the form of last night’s pot roast, so I didn’t have to give them company in their culinary misery. (Thank Merlin for Grams.)
“Crazy morning,” said Frankie as I sat down and started to eat. “First, the grinning man. Then, the new girl. What next? A family of vampires walking through the doors of the cafeteria ready to seduce all of our introverted brunette virgins?”
“God, let’s hope not,” I said, shuddering at the thought. I’d be at the top of that list. “Grinning men and new witch girls are enough excitement for one day.”
“I was totally shook when I got your text about Molly,” Enisa said. “Like, what does she know? And how do you know that she knows what she knows?”
“Well, first of all, she definitely knows about Darkon. I caught her drawing a picture of a Gorgon in History class, and she drew it identical to how it looked in the Dictionary Infernal. Same style, same pose, same everything.”
“So she’s read it before,” said Enisa. “What are the odds of that?”
“Hold up,” said Frankie. “I got a question. Same question as Enisa, actually, but literal. How many people know about Darkon?”
“Most non-Spellcrafters call them demons, and true encounters with actual Darkon are rare. Because they come from another dimension, it takes a lot of work to summon one here. I’m talking blood, candles, pentagrams… basically everything for a fun Friday nightmare but the romantic music.”
“So is Molly, a witch?”
I nodded. “I could tell she was from the second she walked into the library, and I think Miss Delaney could, too. The Gorgon was just confirmation of what I suspected.”
“Do you think she knew that you’re a wizard?” asked Enisa.
“That I don’t know. If she did, she might’ve been afraid to say anything. But she did tell me she went to Miskatonic Academy before she came here.”
“What’s that?” asked Frankie.
“Miskatonic Academy’s a school for Spellcrafters. Like Hogwarts, but not as fun. I can’t think of why she might mention that if she wasn’t at least trying to drop me a hint.”
“Really?” Enisa’s face lit up. “I never knew there was a place like that.”
“Like I said, it’s nothing exciting. Way more academic than you’re probably thinking. And only Spellcrafters from the most prestigious families are allowed to go there. You have to prove you are of pure Spellcrafter blood from at least five generations back. Since I’m half-human, I’d never be allowed in.”
“Sounds kind of racist. Why did she leave? Did you ask?”
“She told me she got expelled. Which is crazy to me. What could you possibly have done to get yourself expelled from a magic school?”
“I can think of a few things,” Frankie said with a mischievous little smile.
“Now that you mention it, so can I. Which reminds me. Did you guys find out any information on Marcus Robinson, the first murder victim?”
“Uh, yeah. About that.” Frankie took a massive bite out of his sandwich and chewed for so long, I thought he’d never come up for air. “Listen, dude, I can explain. I was doing my History homework and was up until midnight, and didn’t really have time to-”
“Frankie, you do your homework about as often as I do the dishes,” I said. “In other words, never.”
“Well, I do my homework about as often as I do my makeup,” Enisa said, sliding her phone out of her purse. “And we all know I never leave the house without my face on. Marcus Robinson’s name popped up on Google more than a few times. He was an employee of the Boston Museum of Ancient History for decades who was highly respected and really liked by his colleagues. Apparently, he was planning to retire sometime this year.”
“Work your whole life and then get murdered before you can finally enjoy some peace and quiet,” said Frankie. “Talk about bad timing.”
“Did you ever talk to that O’Mackey guy yesterday?” Enisa asked me.
“Gabriel O’Mackey? Yeah. He told
me a few interesting things. Apparently, the Grimoire vanished from the museum the day after my father talked to him.”
“Vanished?” Frankie said. “Like… poof, gone?”
“Yep. And another thing: the Grimoire was bound in purple flesh. Darkon flesh.”
“Oh, I just got goosebumps,” Enisa said, shaking out her arms. “Are you still planning on infiltrating the museum later?”
I nodded. “I even Crafted a spell just for that purpose last night. I’m going to pose as a reporter and find out what I can about this upcoming exhibit about witchcraft.”
“Good luck. And please.” Enisa placed her hand atop mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Be careful.”
“Molly coming, eight o’clock,” Frankie interjected, quicker than a bullet from a gun. She must’ve met his eyes because he nodded his head our way, beckoning her forth. Enisa and I turned around and waved, too.
By the reaction from the lunch crowd, one might’ve thought that a space alien had landed in the cafeteria rather than a new kid. Their looks of curiosity turned to looks of disbelief as she kept right on moving past all the popular tables and made her way toward us. I was sure it was probably a moment of sheer astonishment for them: how could anyone — let alone a new kid — voluntarily dine with us? We were the outcasts, and they clearly expected everyone else to know this by osmosis.
I couldn’t tell if Molly didn’t notice our social status or if he simply didn’t care. Either way, I was glad for the new company.
“You three aren’t easy to find,” she said. She set her tray down and sat next to Frankie so that she was facing Enisa and I. “This place is built like a death trap.”
“That’s because it is a death trap,” I said. “It used to be a boarding school back in the day called Dunwich Preparatory School. It was so tough that a lot of kids didn’t make it out alive.”
“Oh yeah?” Molly said. “And are they still here, haunting the place?”
“Some of them, yeah.”
Molly laughed but didn't say much else.
