by Sarina Dorie
On Tuesday morning, Vega read a book on advanced magic as she waited in the office for the relocation service to arrive. Predictably, they were running late. They still hadn’t arrived at noon when Vega had her first lesson of the day. She left a note on the office door and explained she would be behind the school, teaching students flying lessons. She checked back in the office a little after one p.m.
Someone had left a note.
Call us when you have time to meet.
Barnabas
Magical Wildlife Movers
Vega used the magic mirror in the staff room. It felt strangely clandestine to be in the staff room after all the years she had considered this to be the secret lair of teachers. It was far less impressive than she’d imagined, the furnishings old and outdated. The room was still nicer than the teacher lounge at Encantado Charter Academy.
Vega smoothed her sleek black bob out of her face as she gazed at her reflection. Not a hair was out of place. Her red lipstick was striking against her fair face. It was obvious why Castor couldn’t resist her, the poor man.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, I would like to place a call,” she said. “To Barnabas at Magical Wildlife Movers I would like to speak.”
“Sorry,” the magic mirror said in a snotty tone that her own mirror would never have used. “This call cannot be placed without finishing that rhyme. To do so otherwise would be a crime.”
Vega sighed in exasperation. There was nothing worse than a magic mirror with an attitude. “To Barnabas at Magical Wildlife Movers I wish to call. Please do not delay or stall.”
The mirror rippled to show the back of a woman’s head at a desk. She turned to the mirror, a pleasant smile on her face. “Hello, you’ve reached Magical Wildlife Movers. How may I help you?”
“I need to get an estimate from Barnabas for Lady of the Lake School for Girls.”
“Sorry, he’s unavailable right now. Can I take a message?”
Vega left a message to call back later. For all she knew, Barnabas was somewhere on the school property still. Three hours later, she still hadn’t heard back. The mirror had no messages for her.
She only had one note in her mailbox.
Even though Vega was only a temporary employee, Mr. Gordmayer had the decency to put her name on the flyer-ed mail slot. It was a nice touch that made her feel more welcome than when she’d been the intern, and then interim teacher, all year at Encantado Charter Academy.
Vega found a note from Mr. Gordmayer.
Let me know as soon as you get that estimate so I can pass it on to the principal. Once she approves it, we can take care of the gnome problem.
Mr. G
Just a little after four p.m., Vega called MWM back and asked if Barnabas was available.
“Sorry, he’s still busy, dear,” the receptionist said. “But I spoke to Barny when he stopped in. He said no one was at the front desk of your school, so he left without performing an inspection.”
Vega’s eyes went wide with shock. “He was late, and I had a lesson behind the school. I left a note and said he could look around.”
“Safety is our highest priority.” The woman’s tone remained insipidly cheerful. “It’s our policy not to perform inspections without talking to the residents or owners first. We don’t want our field agents or sales team to get injured from wildlife.”
This was utterly ridiculous. “They’re gnomes. They aren’t trolls,” Vega said through clenched teeth.
“Sorry. That’s our policy. We’d be happy to schedule another appointment when you have the morning free.”
Vega’s blood boiled. “I did have the morning free. I waited the entire morning. Barnabas didn’t show up. Am I supposed to wait all day for him?”
“That’s usually the best idea.” The woman’s smile remained pinned in place, like that of an automaton. “Barny is a busy man. He has lots of appointments, and there’s no telling how long he might take.”
Vega could not believe the nerve of these people. She reminded herself she was performing this favor on behalf of Mr. Gordmayer in order to impress the administration. Nothing good would come of this if she lost her temper.
“Very well. When is Barnabas’s next available appointment?”
“He has two slots available on Thursday morning.”
Thursday was two days away! Mr. Gordmayer had expected this done today. She couldn’t fail him. “We have an infestation of gnomes,” Vega said. “Isn’t there any time sooner he can come out?”
“Well, we can do Wednesday afternoon, but it’s hard to say when he’ll show up.”
“Fine. I’ll take it.” Vega could move her class location outside if she needed to.
She left a note in Mr. Gordmayer’s box explaining the appointment had been delayed until Wednesday. Already she felt that future job slipping out of her reach.
* * *
Tuesday and Thursday classes were at six p.m. The class was for adults who had lost transportation privileges due to infractions like flying while intoxicated, being spotted flying in the Morty Realm, and reckless flying. The room was full of magical creatures and wizened men and women who were Witchkin and subject to the laws of the Department of Magical Violations. This group was even more insolent and churlish than the teenagers.
Five minutes into assigning textbooks, an elderly woman with a green kerchief wrapped around her hair halted in the doorway, pointing at another woman in the class. “You, how dare you show up here to my class!” Her accent might have been Greek, but it was hard to say considering the Unseen Realm had their own unique blend of accents.
A middle-aged witch with a lacy pointed hat that matched her bohemian patchwork dress looked up from where she sat in the classroom. Her hair was pale blue, the same shade as her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play innocent with me. I’m a student in this class, no thanks to you.” The woman in the doorway slithered forward.
Her dress was so long, Vega nearly missed that she had a long tail underneath. She was a lamia. Hopefully, she wasn’t venomous.
“Excuse me—” Vega rose to greet her newest challenging student.
The lamia’s voice grew, her face turning red. “If you hadn’t crashed into me as I was flying, you old lush—”
“I have a class to conduct.” Vega strode toward the door. “If you’ll just take a seat—”
“No, I will not!” the lamia said. “That hag will hex me as soon as my back is turned.”
The other woman smiled sweetly and shrugged. “I don’t even know that lady.” She lifted her hands up and shrugged, the metal bangles on her wrist jangling.
Vega never trusted people who were quick to smile, especially not when employing falsely innocent expressions. Vega used her attendance sheet to refresh her memory of the student’s name. This was Janis Meadowcloud.
She suspected the tardy student was Penelope Angelopoulos since she was the only female student on her attendance sheet who hadn’t shown up.
Using one of the tactics Vega had learned this year in her classroom management textbook, she nodded to the newcomer and waved a hand at the door. “Let’s have a word out in the hallway, shall we? Just the two of us.”
Vega had read it was better to deal with discipline outside the classroom rather than in front of a student’s peers. She supposed the same went for adults. It would be easier to get rid of this woman outside the classroom than inside with witnesses.
Especially if she had to hex her. Vega took a textbook, her inventory sheet, and appointment folder with her.
The newcomer slithered out the door, muttering as she went. “That old hag is stalking me. She got here first just to make me look bad.”
Vega closed the door to the classroom.
The elderly woman shook her black leather purse. “When we crashed, she stole my purse. I’ve had to use my spare one since then. I’m not going in there unless she gives my purse bac
k.”
Vega glanced at the class through the door on the window. Her temperamental student was shouting loud enough that the class could probably hear. From the way Janis Meadowcloud shifted her big green purse behind her, Vega had no doubt she heard.
This soooo wasn’t Vega’s problem. One less student would make her life easier. But . . . the school did get paid by the Department of Magical Violations for every student enrolled. She wanted to impress the administration with what a problem-solver she was, by keeping their students.
Vega put on her poker face. “If you’re going to make trouble and disrupt the learning of others, you can leave. That goes the same for anyone else.”
“She hexed me! That’s why I crashed. It’s all her fault.”
From the alcohol wafting from the old woman’s breath, Vega wondered how much of that might have played into her crash. Not that she was one to judge other people’s vices.
Vega said the words she wished someone smart enough would have used on her when she’d been a teenager, whether they were true in this case or not. “If she hexed you, that means you aren’t safe in a classroom with her. For that reason, I’m going to suggest you switch to the Monday and Wednesday afternoon class instead. You’ll be able to come to lessons with peace of mind that no one will bother you.”
The crotchety old woman crossed her arms. “Mondays and Wednesdays aren’t as good for my schedule.”
“I’ll even do one more thing to help you out, from the kindness of my heart.” Vega hoped this was the carrot that would motivate this student to voluntarily attend class the following day. “I will even let you choose the best time for our lesson together this week—before I let your fellow classmates choose.”
“I get first pick? Before her?”
Vega nodded.
It turned out to be the right incentive.
On Wednesday, the wildlife field agent didn’t show up on time. Vega moved all of her one-hour flying lessons to the front of the school. That way, she could chaperone teenagers practicing flying while she kept an eye out for the contractor. She chased off gnomes she caught trying to deface the school with pickaxes they used to chip away at the stone.
Whatever protective magics the school used to keep the gnomes away from the building wasn’t enough. She chose to ignore the gnomes near the flowers using rose petals to wipe their behinds.
Teenagers loitered on benches, lounged on the steps, and sat on the ledge of the fountain—and everyone was trying to avoid land mines in the form of gnome excrement. Some students had retreated to the statue of Lady of the Lake, but they were just far enough away, Vega doubted they would be able to hear anything she said unless she used a voice-amplification charm.
She suspected having a class outside might not have been in her best interest when a group of gnomes started chasing around a teenage girl wearing gold jewelry, waving their pickaxes at her.
One of the boys in class claimed a gnome bit him. “Oh no! I’m going to have rabies or the plague.”
“Was he foaming at the mouth? No? You’re fine.” Vega said firmly. “You have magic. Protect yourself with it.”
How were these teens ever going to survive in the Unseen Realm if they couldn’t protect themselves from Fae predators any more dangerous than gnomes?
“Dude,” one of the students said. “I hear that after gnomes get a taste of blood, they go crazy.”
Vega sighed in exasperation. She had no idea where her students learned this information. “Gnomes aren’t carnivores. They eat rocks and minerals. Not people.”
“It’s gold that sends them into a feeding frenzy,” a teenage boy with a pig snout said. “They turn into crazed little monsters. That’s when they really turn evil.”
“Oh no!” a student screamed, pointing at a group of gnomes fighting over a gold necklace that they had stolen from someone in the class.
Naturally, Barnabas had to show up in the middle of class when she had forty students at three thirty p.m., and they were spending more time fending off gnomes than learning about flying.
The only saving grace of the hour was that the Greek lamia from the day before hadn’t shown up. Perhaps she had dropped out. Vega supposed she should have felt greater disappointment at losing a student.
Vega had to stop instructing students and greet Barnabas so he wouldn’t leave without providing an estimate.
He was a tall man with a very short conical hat and a handlebar mustache. “Mrs. Gordmayer?”
Vega inclined her head. She didn’t correct him. The receptionist had told her the “owner” or “resident” had to be present. Technically she was a resident, but she didn’t want any more hiccups in helping solve this problem.
“So nice of you to take time from your busy day to meet me,” Barnabas said.
Vega couldn’t tell whether he was being facetious or serious. “As you can see, I am busy.” She waved a hand at the teenagers. Several teens wearing jewelry were running across the lawn, chased by gangs of gnomes. “However, it’s important we solve our pest problem.”
“How long have you had gnome problems?” He reached into his breast pocket, a pad of paper expanding as he prepared to write her answer.
“I don’t know. A while,” Vega said, not knowing the answer to that or any questions he followed it up with. She was aware she sounded completely clueless. Because she was.
Vega spotted Orsolya’s troll-like figure pushing a wheelbarrow across the grounds in the distance and pointed to her. “The groundskeeper is the best person to answer these questions. You’re free to walk around and examine our grounds, but I need to get an estimate from you today. You can leave it in the office if I’m not available.”
Vega was relieved when he left to go talk to Orsolya and examined the school with her instead. So much for the company’s policy of not doing inspections without the owner.
After class, Vega had a brief break to eat a snack, use the restroom, and find the estimate Barnabas had left on Mr. Gordmayer’s desk.
Vega realized gnomes were not her specialty, but charging a hundred dollars per gnome at an estimate of a hundred gnomes on the grounds seemed excessive. Vega had only seen a dozen or two at once. In his notes, Barnabas also advised setting traps for hellhounds as a result of the scat he found in the forest, and some wards to keep invasive pixies away.
Vega had never seen any sign of any Fae creatures in the forest during the times she had traveled to the graveyard or through the forest to get to the portal to Merlin’s Academy. Twelve thousand dollars seemed excessive, but she expected Mr. Gordmayer would know best. She placed the estimate for the estimate in his box before hurrying out.
At four thirty, she had a lesson with two adult students who had signed up for the required chaperoned lesson. She met them out front so that she could find them easily.
Mr. Tybalt was early. He was a timid man whose age she couldn’t determine. He had the short, squat features of a mazamurello, a kind of Italian elf. He carried a rustic broom with him, a bicycle seat attached halfway up. Probably that improved the ergonomics.
Vega’s other student, Mrs. Penelope Angelopoulos, was tardy. If she remembered correctly, Mrs. Angelopoulos was her Greek lamia student who had failed to show up during the class Vega had switched her to.
“Tell me about your flying violation,” Vega said to Mr. Tybalt. “What kind of skills do you need to work on?”
“I don’t like heights, and I was issued a ticket for flying too low to the ground. And too slow.” His face twitched as he whispered his answer, the admission obviously costing him his pride. “I prefer portals, but my children think I’m too old to work complex magic.”
Vega nodded. “Portal magic is difficult. One has to be focused and ensure the correct kind of portal magic is used. Flying is a safer option.”
During the lesson, she watched him make low loops with his broom, encouraging him to levitate his broom higher.
“If I go higher
, I’ll be sick,” he said in a tremulous voice. Already he was sweating profusely in the warm summer air.
“Just one inch higher,” Vega said. “This is safer than getting a limb chopped off in a portal because—”
“I’m here! Sorry I’m late!” Mrs. Angelopoulos shouted, bursting out of the front doors of the school behind Vega. “I didn’t know class would be meeting out here until I climbed up all those stairs and saw the note on the door.”
Vega eyed her tail. More like slithered up the stairs.
The elderly woman rested against the banister catching her breath. Her green kerchief was slightly askew. Old-lady perfume clouded around her, stinging Vega’s eyes.
Vega didn’t know how Mrs. Angelopoulos could have gotten past her to get inside the school. She would have smelled her coming. Perhaps the custodian had left the back door open while cleaning. Vega hoped not. Gnomes could get in the school that way.
Vega placed a hand on her hip, attempting to channel the patience Mr. Reade had always managed to summon when dealing with difficult students. “Your class started two and a half hours ago. Your one-on-one lesson started fifteen minutes ago.”
“I thought my class was on Mondays,” Mrs. Angelopoulos said in her overly loud voice.
“Monday and Wednesdays. Do you have a calendar to write it down?” Vega said through clenched teeth.
Mrs. Angelopoulos tapped her forehead. “It’s like a steel trap up here. I’ve got it memorized now.”
“Hmm,” Vega said, doubtful.
Mrs. Angelopoulos swayed unsteadily as she slithered down the stairs. She reached into her big green purse and extracted an iced coffee in a clear plastic cup. The bag looked like the one she had claimed her nemesis had supposedly stolen. Probably the old woman had misplaced her purse and found it last night. Mrs. Angelopoulos loudly slurped up her drink through a straw, which had obviously come from the Morty Realm.
Plastic was toxic to Fae, and many Witchkin were sensitive to it. Vega supposed Mrs. Angelopoulos wasn’t one of those people. She seemed like the sort of person who would shop in the Morty Realm.
