“An’ tha purpose of ya visit to Liberty City?” a bored guard asks as he covertly adjusts his wig.

Smiling at him, the handsome man replies pleasantly, “Love, always love.”

Rolling his eyes, the guard murmurs to himself, “Righta then. Jus gonna put down ‘pleasure.’”

The guard starts to ask another question, but the man quickly flicks his fingers releasing a bare breath of magical energy that flips the guard's wig off his head and onto the desk.

The guard dives on his wig and plops it back on his head, backwards in his haste. Quickly, he waves the man forward in embarassment. A second later, he turns around and says, “Hey mista!”

The man turns, an expression of polite concern on his face. “Yes?”

“What’s ya name? I fergot ta put it down.”

“Athow, Thorm Athow.”

Then the man waves and hoists his bag over his shoulder as he continues to walk through the terminal toward the exit. The guard nods and turns to the next person in line, forgetting all about the Mediterranean man.

“Now then, let’s just see if the good Sisters of St. Cecilia were as zealous in rooting out witchcraft as they professed to be.” Athow then pauses and reaches for a map of the city. His fingers run down the list of notable structures until they hover over a blocky chunk of building in the heart of Liberty City. “St. Cecilia High School. They didn’t even bother to try hiding, did they?” he asks rhetorically before carefully folding the map and tucking it under his arm. Then he walks through the rest of the terminal and out the door to hail a car.

Across town, a harried girl sits opposite her mystic mentor and asks, “So that means he’s like, what, the most powerful wizard of all time?”

“No child,” Belinda corrects. “It means that he is arguably the most powerful magic user ever, including demons, spirits, and all the unknowable creatures that have at some point or another tapped the arcane arts. Thorm Athow’s power at his height was incomprehensible. That is who we face, and that is what we must stop.”

“Great,” Hailey replies before falling silent.

For a minute, the two simply sit in silence. Thoughts swirl around in each of their heads as they try to come up with a solution to the enemy facing them.

“You said he’s not the same, right?”

Belinda nods. “He has no soul. But child, no one has ever returned from the dead in such fashion. I have no idea what it means or what it would do to him.”

Hailey looks down glumly and slumps into the carpet. Her fingers play with a stray piece of the fabric as she works the problem.

“Well maybe we can use a banishing ritual? Like we did with the demons?”

Belinda shakes her head. “The rituals only work on the demons because they rebelled against God. God gave to each angel a task, a role in creation. Those that rebelled and became demons did so by first perverting and corrupting that task. It is why they cannot bear to face what they have lost, what they forsook in becoming demons. Athow may be diabolic but he was never the servant of God.”

“And I can’t just blast him with magic or whatever?”

“We could try,” Belinda replies wryly, “but we may as well confront Becca and Ash together, for we would have a better chance of success in that endeavor than to meet Athow at his greatest strength.”

“So no to just blasting him, gotcha,” Hailey replies sarcastically. Then she asks in the same tone, “Well then why don’t we just gather together all the witches and fight him together?”

Belinda snorts, “Putting aside the difficulty of marshalling such an operation and the lack of witches, numbers have never been a successful strategy against Athow.”

“Then what has been?” Hailey asks, curious.

“My ancestor, the original Belinda, confronted him using subterfuge. But even her victory came at great cost. Sadly, I fear I have no idea how to defeat him.”

Stepping out of the taxi, Athow smiles and adjusts his cufflinks. Then he walks with purpose toward the gates of the school.

Inside the secluded corner of the library, Belinda and Hailey continue their conversation unaware that the subject just walked into the building.

“Okay, so we can’t fight him, we can’t outwit him, we can’t outnumber him, and we can’t hide from him. So what can we do?”

Belinda glances away, acting cagey. Then she softly says, “There is one thing…”

“What?” Hailey asks, impatiently.

Belinda looks at the shelves, her eyes poring over the book titles. Troubled, she shakes her head and says, “No, no I won’t.”

“Well?” Hailey interrupts her musings. “We’ve done this before and all it did was let demons come between us. Just be honest with me,” her voice softens as she adds, “please.”

Sighing in defeat, Belinda acquiesces. “There is a ritual, the same one that my ancestor used to destroy him the first time. She sacrificed more than just her life. She sacrificed her soul to ensure he died. We could do the same again.”

Gulping, Hailey asks nervously, “Like, her soul? That’s really bad, right?”

“She remained trapped in the dagger for centuries. And when I freed her, she was insane. I find it difficult to believe there was no connection.”

“Great, so I could end up trapped in something even worse than your situation,” Hailey grouses, gesturing toward the dagger-turned-woman that makes up Belinda’s body.

“My situation is not so bad,” Belinda replies. Then she concedes, “But it could be much worse.”

Tapping the sign in sheet, Athow smiles brightly at Ms. Anderson. “I just sign the visitor pass here and then make sure to wear the nametag, is that correct?”

“That’s correct!” she replies brightly.

“Excellent,” Thorm replies flippantly. “I’ll return once I’ve finished.”

Then he carefully writes his name on the nametag sticker and pulls it off the paper with a flourish. Delicately, he presses it to his right breast just above his heart and smooths it down. Gracing the office with one final smile, he turns and walks down the hall trailing his finger along the wall as he goes.

“How quaint,” he says, “they built a school.” Shaking his head, he continues sarcastically. “What would I do, if it were my mission to bury priceless books of terrible power that could singlehandedly cause untold destruction and devastation in the wrong hands? I know! I would build a school and put them inside where any child might stumble upon them.” Athow shakes his head bemused. “I’ll never understand the church.”

Flicking his finger along the locks hanging from the lockers he continues walking nonchalantly. “The place is practically dripping with magic. A consequence of the books… or a byproduct curtesy of one of the city’s more magical residents?” Athow pauses and taps his chin. “I wonder. You seemed quite young when we met in the hospital Eldritch Maiden, but I confess I did not think you were still in school. No matter, I suppose I will find out in due time.”

Inside the library, the subject of his wonderings says, “What about the books? You said the book that Bella found was part of a set. What if I found the rest? Would I have enough power to beat him then?”

“No!” Belinda reacts sharply before pausing, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Well child, it is plausible it could work. But those books exact a terrible price, and the spells within have terrible side effects. Just look at what happened to your friend, forever cursed with that monster Belladonna lurking inside her skin.”

“But that would be better than burning up my soul,” Hailey says, insistent. “Where could we find the books?”

“I have no idea. Despite her research, Bella still does not have any clues as to how the book of poisons ended up in a school library. Trapped as I am in this weapon, I am afraid I am reliant on her to do my searching for me.”

Hailey replies, “I thought you said she was good at that stuff? At least, she’s better than I ever was.”

Belinda snorts. “You, child, are perhaps the worst researcher I have ever met. You have no patience, and no willingness to read carefully. Bella is both humble and inquisitive, acutely aware of the dangers inherent in this kind of study and yet curious enough that she finds the research itself a motivation. It should not come as a shock that I prefer her aid to yours.”

Hailey, unbothered, shrugs. “Fine with me. I hate reading through old books. So do you think we can find them or not?”

Entering the library, Thorm Athow pauses for a moment. His eyes scan the room like the gaze of a great cat surveying a herd of gazelle searching for the weakest animal. A moment later, he steps up to the reception desk with a smile and taps the table.

“Hello, Mr. Whittaker is it?”

Behind the desk, Mr. Whittaker frowns at Thorm Athow and reads his nametag, “Mr. Athow is it? How can I help you?”

Smiling genially, Thorm says, “I’m looking for the older sections of the library. Perhaps the stacks containing religious works?”

Flipping his hair, Mr. Whittaker huffs. Then he points toward the furthest corner and says, “It’s a ways back. You can’t see it from here but if you go back past the main sections here and through the student study area you should find the more… esoteric sections. Just past those is where we keep the old religious books from the original school. I assume that’s what you’re here for?”

“Indeed,” Athow answers as he begins walking. Once out of Mr. Whittaker’s earshot he adds, “Old books indeed.” Athow snorts, unimpressed. “All of it written in that upstart tongue Latin no doubt. How you could consider something so fresh old I’ll never understand.”

Shaking his head, he continues to walk without a care, running his finger along the spines of the textbooks filling the bookshelves. Every now and again, he pauses as something catches his attention. Eventually, however, he navigates the bare tables of the study area and finds himself surveying the dust covered back arena of the school library.

Just a wall away, Hailey and Belinda continue to speak.

“So you think the books were confiscated by the church, then what?”

Belinda sighs before restating, “Again, that is precisely the problem. My research suggests that a group of nuns secured the books and, finding them indestructible, swore to hide them away forever. But I have only conjecture as to which religious order gathered the texts or what they did with them. Without a clearer picture of those responsible, I cannot even begin to track them down.” Frustration mounting in her voice, she adds, “They might even be in Europe, and we can hardly travel overseas just to search for clues.”

"Well we could reach out to Beacon and the Association, I bet they," Hailey falls silent. "Do you feel that?"

"Yes. He is here, in the school." Bel's voice is pointed, tight and angry.

With a grim expression Hailey ducks out of the crowd of students and begins making her way toward the library. As she does, she palms her dagger.

Humming lightly to himself, Athow runs his fingers along the spines of the books until he pauses at a particular text. Cocking his head to the side, he mutters, “Now what have we here? The Book of Am-Tuat next to the Ars Notoria and Liber Juratus? That is an egregious mistake. Student’s sloppy reshelving or something else?”

Athow smiles, his teeth wide and shinning as he leans toward the shelf. Slowly, he wraps his hand around the spine of the book and pulls it half out. Inhaling the musty scent of the pages, his eyes gleam as he pulls it from the shelf.

“Well hello,” Athow whispers reverently as he pulls the book free of the shelf. In a swift motion, he tears off the outer jacket declaring it the Book of Am-Tuat and tosses it to the floor. Then he smooths his hand over the cover, brushing away the last motes of dust. Considering it for a few seconds, he lifts his thumb to his mouth and bites down. Then he rubs the few pinpricks of blood across the cover, watching it fade and reveal the true name of the text in spidery language that blooms from underneath the worn cover.

“A Witch’s Guide to Deception: Spells, Sorceries, and Cantrips.”

“Two down, three to go,” Athow says with a predatory grin. “I wonder if they were stupid enough to put all five in the same library.” Turning to the book, he asks, “Shall we find out?”

“Mr. Whittaker might object if you leave without checking that out. Unfortunately, it seems like you don’t have a library pass, so I’m happy to reshelve that for you.”

Athow turns, irritated. Sighing, he spreads his hands wide, one of them still holding the book and asks, “Eldritch Maiden. Kindly leave me. I am working, and this is no place for a fight.”

Eldritch reaffirms her grip around her dagger and snaps back, “Yeah? Well you won’t be the first person I’ve beaten here.”

Rolling his eyes, Athow asks, “So you felt the connection when I activated the book? I’m disappointed. If you were my apprentice, I’d cut off your finger for not noticing me the moment I stepped into the building. Really, I have no soul. How did you miss my presence?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eldritch snarls. “The second your blood hit those pages your little vanishing act was over.”

“Vanishing act?” Athow tuts. “Oh no, I’m not trying to hide. After all, I need that dagger you’re carrying just as much as anything else to restore my beloved to my arms. I’ve been wandering around just hoping you were competent enough to come find me.” Derisively, he adds, “Well, better late than never. Eventually, you did get here.”

Whispering through her spiritual connection, Hailey says in a tense voice, “Bel, I know you said we shouldn’t fight directly but I can’t think of any other way to stop him walking away with that book! Please let me know you have a plan!”

But, dear reader, her companion remains grimly silent! For both know this fight is not one that favors young Eldritch, no matter that it is her home turf she finds herself defending! And if Belinda is to come up with a plan she had best think quickly, for the confrontation between Eldritch and Athow begins next week in… “Battle Magic!”