“Okay, so what now?” Charon asked nervously as Tusk’s elevator left our floor.

“Ewart said two floors down,” I remembered. “Charon, will you be able to lead us from there?”

“I don’t know. This place is insane, I can’t smell anything over all the magic,” Charon said.

“We know the east side is mostly in the Tribune’s use, so that’s just half the floor. We’ll find it,” Amelia said. She pressed the down button and we waited. It was excruciating. My hands were clammy and I could feel cold sweat run down my back.

When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, we were greeted by a tired-looking office worker. She was confused, but made way for us. “We’re interns,” I told her helpfully. She didn’t answer. She shot one last suspicious glance at us on the 29th floor where she exited.

Finally, we arrived on the 28th and stormed out only to see that the entire floor had magically gone under renovation during our stay in Ewart’s office. Every hallway looked identical, white tarp over walls and doors and a papery covering on the floor that crinkled under our shoes.

Although I had caught a glimpse of busy workers on the previous floor, this one was completely deserted. I couldn’t even hear the clickity-clack of keyboards or indistinct meetings being held. It was us, and the hum of air conditioning.

“Please tell me you can hear or smell something,” I said to Charon. He shook his head slowly.

“I don’t understand,” Amelia said, frowning.

“I guess they don’t want us to find them,” I said grimly.

I took the lead following the long white hallways. We opened doors, listened intently, looked for anything that looked out of place, to no avail. There was no sign of life, not even a janitor or a construction worker. It was like we had fallen into some alternate dimension. I was getting desperate. I was supposed to be finding my uncle, but instead I was lost in an all white abandoned construction zone.

After what felt like hours of searching, we ended up back at the elevators which were covered by see-through plastic sheets.

“Why don’t we sit down for a moment?” Amelia suggested calmly.

“What? Why?” I asked.

Amelia nodded at my feet. I looked down. It appeared that I had left a trail of pitch black footsteps during our walk. When I looked closer, I realised the marks were smoking. My magic was leaking through in the form of burning hot shoes, it seemed.

“Why would he tell us the floor?” Charon mused as we sat down, leaning against some office door.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Why did Ewart call us in the first place? He could’ve just left us there for a few hours but instead he taunted us and told us where he would be,” he explained.

“He wanted to lure us out,” Amelia realised, wide-eyed.

“Shit.” I got to my feet and started ripping the plastic off of an elevator’s doors. Every time I took one layer off, another one magically appeared. Amelia and Charon came to help me, but it was no use.

“Stand back,” Amelia commanded. Charon and I took a few steps back. Amelia placed a hand on the plastic — no, not on it, but so close her palm almost touched it. She said: Topniej!

The plastic melted. First just in that one spot, leaving a hole in the shape of Amelia’s hand, and then spreading until it was gone everywhere except the very edges, where it dripped lazily until it hardened. The remains that had fallen on the floor smelled horrible and sizzled like TV static.

“That was so cool,” Charon muttered.

We stumbled back into the elevator, careful of the still hot plastic. I mashed the button for the 30th floor until the doors closed.

“How much time do you think we just wasted?” Amelia asked anxiously.

“Hopefully not too much,” I said. I tried not to imagine what was going down at the office.

I had never ran as fast as I did on our way back to Ewart’s office. My legs didn’t hurt though, and I didn’t feel out of breath. I was being pushed forward by pure adrenaline and overflowing magic.

I had to barely touch the door to make it slam open so hard it almost fell out of its hinges. Ewart Kane, in flesh behind his desk, didn’t look very shocked to see us. Displeased, yes, but not surprised. He simply leaned back in his chair and said: “You’re here already.”

“Where’s Uncle Killian?” I demanded.

“Careful, now,” Ewart warned. I looked down at my hands. They were smoking like my shoes had, only this smoke was a sickly green colour.

“Where is he?” Amelia repeated insistently.

“He should be here shortly. So why don’t you take a seat and enjoy the show, hm?” Ewart snapped his fingers and an invisible force threw us onto the couch. No matter how hard I tried to get up, my feet were glued to the ground and my ass to the leather. Charon shot a panicked look my way. Amelia mouthed: No incantation.

“Fucking bastard,” I hissed at Ewart, who remained calm and collected.

Ewart rolled his chair in front of us and leaned forward. “You think I’m the villain, do you?”

“Yes.” I gritted my teeth. “You broke my family. You told Elvira to do all this, to take Killian—“

“You think Elvira did it? That stupid, rebellious little girl?” Ewart chortled. His laugh was high-pitched and wheezy.

“She— She didn’t?” Amelia said. Charon opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.

“Oh, she wouldn’t lift a finger for me… No, she hates my guts. Despises me. Not a very good daughter, wouldn’t you agree?” Ewart leaned back and studied our reactions. I didn’t know about my friends, but my mouth was gaping wide open.

“What?”

“Yes… To think that I made her, gave her everything, and she thanks me by running off. I gave her chances to come back, many of them. Yet she never did.”

“She’s an orphan. She was raised by Ms. Cormier,” I said.

“Cormier, pah! She taught those children nothing but propaganda and lies. You would do well to stay away from her.”

“So if it wasn’t Elvira…” Amelia muttered.

The door creaked open. My uncle fell in first, face down. He didn’t move. I wanted to go help him, but I was frozen — not only because of Ewart’s spell, but because of who I saw standing behind Killian. Clad in a dark robe, white streaks in her hair, the once warm smile twisted into a grim frown.

Fiona.

I saw angry hot white. My skin, flesh and bones burned. I couldn’t hear anything over the ringing — or was it screaming? Blood-curling, raw screaming? My magic exploded out of me, and it kept going and going and exhausting my body to a point where I was sure I was going to die.

Let go, someone said. It was a vaguely familiar voice, but not one I had heard in years. But why would I let go? I thought. The only thing keeping me alive was me trying my hardest to hold back. I was sure that if I let the magic roam free, it would kill everyone in the room.

Let go, the voice insisted. So, I said fuck it. I let myself flow with the magic instead of against it. It was almost like flying, and it felt amazing. The magic poured out through me like water from a pitcher; every passing second I felt lighter and emptier until the noise calmed down into a buzz and my blood stopped boiling in my veins.

I emerged from a mountain of fabric.

The world was full of colour. I don’t mean that everything looked more vibrant — no, I saw colours I hadn’t even known existed. Some of the colours that I did know were swapped or warped, some even shifted continuously. Behind those colours, I could barely recognise the room and the people in it.

It wasn’t just the colours that were messed up. Everything was big, or maybe I was small. My body felt so light that if I spread my wings I could glide easily.

My wings.

I lifted an arm. It was covered in black feathers, and when I extended it, it was at least the size of my body. When I opened and closed my mouth, it clicked shut because I had no lips but a long straight beak. When I tried to speak, only a strangled croak came out.

“Now that’s something!” someone laughed, someone who towered high over me. I looked up to see Ewart Kane, who was as tall as a building. “I haven’t seen one of you in decades… Oh, this is really something!”

He reached out to me, his hand big enough to grab me with ease, and I hopped away. I flailed my wings frantically hoping to take off and fly away, but it only helped me scramble a little bit further from Ewart and fall on the floor.

“Don’t be scared, now, little bird… I won’t hurt you,” Ewart mumbled. I tripped on a rope — a string, my hoodie’s string — and he was able to take a hold of me. His fingers wrapped around my wings so I couldn’t move them. All I could do was wave my beak around and try to get a nip at his hand.

“Let him go!” Amelia screamed. She struggled to get free, but she was still being held back by Ewart’s magic.

I craned my neck and managed to nip at Ewart’s thumb so hard he yelped and loosened his grip. I wrestled my way out and as I fell, spread my wings. Like I had predicted, my body glided surprisingly gracefully once I had some air under me. However, I had no idea how to steer. I flew straight out the window.

For a few seconds, I was euphoric. It felt natural, being carried by the winds, cool air ruffling my feathers.

“No!” Ewart screamed. He threw something — a bronze knife that glistened in daylight — and it scratched me in the junction between my left wing and the rest of my body. It wasn’t enough to do serious damage, but I hadn’t found my footing — winging? — yet and it didn’t help.

I flapped my wings a few times and got a block or so away from the tower, but by then I was getting lightheaded. Blood was dripping where Ewart’s knife had struck me, and it hurt so bad I kept swerving in the air. The movement was nauseating, especially combined with the new world of colours and sensations.

I plummeted down, tall buildings flashing by like a sped-up film, and I thought for sure I was going to die. At the last second, feet before I would’ve hit the ground, I managed to straighten my wings one last time despite the pain. I didn’t die, like I probably would have had I crashed into the concrete, but I did land on the side of a metal garbage can and it hurt like hell.

For a while I just lied on my back, surrounded by trash and listening to some concerned Chicago citizens murmur about an injured bird. (Though none of them came to help.)

When I learned that I was more than a witch, I had hoped for something cool. A magical creature that could maybe breathe fire or had immense strength. But I was a crow. A crow couldn’t help Uncle Killian. A crow couldn’t help my friends now that I’d dragged them into the whole mess. Hell, I didn’t even know how to change back.

I closed my eyes. Darkness was a welcome change from the new colours. I considered just going to sleep, because what else could I do? But then, I felt the ground shake under me. Not like during an earthquake, but a small thump. Someone was standing in front of me.

I looked up to see Elvira. She had never looked worse. Her hair was singed, she had dirt and dried blood all over her face and clothes, her favourite leather jacket was ripped and her lip was split and sluggishly bleeding. But she was there, smiling exhaustedly and offering me a hand.

I hopped on her forearm arm with great difficulty. My claws gripped at her jacket as I desperately did my best to stay on.

“I guess we’re both kind of fucked, huh?” Elvira said.

Yeah, I wanted to say. But at least you’re still yourself.

“We’re gonna get you back to normal. I promise,” she said, as if she had read my mind. “And then we’re going to get your uncle.”

—

Elvira carried me across Chicago. I had no idea where we were going; I wasn’t familiar with the city anyway, and the new shapes and colours didn’t help. I did, however, enjoy just being perched on her shoulder and not needing to do anything else. It was nice having someone else take the lead. (We did get some strange looks on the subway, though.)

“I’m sorry about everything, crow,” Elvira said as she walked. “I should’ve been with you this whole time, but I… I guess I thought I could do it myself. Clearly, I couldn’t.”

I’m sorry I thought you were a traitor, I wanted to tell her.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you. Starting from Chicago, I guess. We grew up here, me and Elias. You’ve met Ms. Cormier — she told me you visited yesterday. I had a lot of explaining to do for her as well. Anyway, she found me after I ran away from Ewart when I was a kid.

“Ewart has an obsession with creating things, likes playing god. He went too far, though. Started mixing creatures and spells that shouldn’t be mixed. Some of us started thinking for ourselves, most weren’t so lucky. They went feral and had to be locked up or killed. Ewart tried to do the same to the rest of us as a precaution, but inevitably failed.

“Growing up different wasn’t easy. Not for me, and especially not for Ms. Cormier. She had never seen anyone like me, so she didn’t know what or how to teach me. Ewart couldn’t make more than one of me, you see. His ingredients were… compromised.”

You still haven’t told me what you are, though, I wanted to insist.

“When I met Fiona, Ms. Cormier didn’t approve of her. She has never liked witches, even though she is one. Fiona asked me to move to San Fransisco with her. She had a job there, working with your uncle to protect California from monsters. From me. She said that I was different, though. That if all monsters were like me we would have no problems.”

I could hear the resentment in Elvira’s voice, but behind it was melancholy pain. She missed Fiona.

“I fell out of touch with my foster family when I moved. Elias wasn’t too fussed — he had never given a shit about politics — but the rest of them thought I had abandoned them for the enemy. I was happy with Fiona though, happy in our new home far away from Ewart. He couldn’t bother me there.

“But as time went on, I began to realise how despite her love for me, Fiona never trusted me. Not fully. I tried again and again to prove myself, making many enemies in the process, but I was never truly on their side. I understood my brother. I understood why he never took sides.

“It took me years to find out that Fiona and Killian worked for my father. That was a few months before you turned up. I was so angry I almost left, but they didn’t know about my relationship with him. Bringing it up would have made things more complicated. Hell, they might have turned me over to him.

“Last year, I got a call from Ewart. Fiona had told him who I was. He wanted to give me one last chance to be a family again, went on about some world-changing plan. He told me about a prophecy — not the full one, but enough for me to understand that you were a big part of it. I told him no, obviously. Fiona and I got into a big fight after that. The only reason I stayed was to protect you. Killian didn’t seem to know anything about Ewart’s big plans, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Two days before Fiona put her own plan to motion, I confronted her. I told her to think through it, think about our family — our real family, you and Killian. She said she wasn’t going to hurt anybody. She said she was going to make the world a better place, and then she… she left. And she wasn’t coming back.

“It turned out, Killian didn’t know because he was a part of the plan as well. There is a ritual in your family’s spell-book that they need. Fiona knew you’d come after her if she took your uncle. Two birds with one stone — pun not intended. All she did was leave me a stupid note.

“I should’ve stayed longer, explained everything to you, but by the time I realised they were gone I didn’t want to waste any more time. I had talked to Marina Demetrias earlier and told her to keep you in San Fransisco if things went wrong, but clearly I underestimated your stubbornness.”

Elvira came to a stop. Although everything looked different, I recognised the place because I had just been there. We had arrived at the house on 68th; Elvira’s childhood home.