I was a little disappointed when Monday rolled around, and Donovan was still a no show. I’d hoped to have someone to talk with; Amber was still ignoring me, and the rest of the students were giving me a wide berth. I enjoyed the classes but with no one to hang out with the day seemed to drag. When the bell finally rang, I was relieved to see Maggie waiting out front in her white Cadillac, her pleasant face a welcome change to Agent Maher's and Eurie’s usual glowers. With the failure at the party, hopefully, I was done helping the Vanguard.

"How was your day?" she asked as I climbed inside.

"As good as can be expected," I said, buckling up.

"I know they've been keeping you busy at the Consulate, but are your studies going okay?" she asked as she pulled away.

"I have an English paper I really need to start working on, but otherwise I mostly got caught up this weekend." It hadn't even been a full week yet, but I was already getting into the swing of things. If only school could be just about the academics.

"Well, you should have plenty of time to work on it this afternoon. I have somethings to do at the store, and you can do your work there."

Maggie owned an antique shop located in what used to be downtown nearly a century ago; now, it was the historic district. Rows of red brick buildings lined the street, clearly old but lovingly maintained with bright flower boxes and freshly painted signs. Trees that were older than the buildings spread a canopy of branches over the sidewalk providing comfortable shade during the summer for the window shoppers. Being a Monday afternoon, the street was mostly empty.

Maggie’s place was mid-block nestled between a boutique and consignment shop. Two large picture windows faced the street. 'Arlene's Attic’, written in blocky white letters, took up the majority of the left pane while the other displayed a small open sign and a row of vases.

"Arlene?" I asked as we drove by.

"My mother," Maggie said, as she turned down the alley and pulled into a gravel lot behind the building. "She opened this shop nearly fifty years ago."

Grabbing my bag, I followed her in through the back door. We walked down a short hall that branched off to the right and left before opening up into a large open gallery. It was dimly lit, with just enough light that you weren't straining to see. It felt mysterious like you were searching for treasures hidden away in the back of an old storeroom. Glass cases lined the walls, displaying the smaller and more fragile pieces of her collection while the larger items were spread out across the showroom floor.

"Hey Mags," a pleasant voice called out, moments before a young man stood up, his sudden appearance causing me to jump.

He was in his mid to late twenties, tall and thin, without an ounce of spare flesh on him, and his nose and mouth were slightly too large for his face. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him.

“Sorry about that,” he put down the cardboard box he’d been rummaging through and wiped his palm on his pants before extending his hand. “You must be Desirae.”

"Desirae, this is Landry," Maggie introduced.

"Nice to meet you," he said, taking my hand with a wide toothy grin.

"When he's not working on his Ph.D. or running marathons, he's here helping me," she said, a fond smile curling her lips.

"Well, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my favorite Aunt; after all, she does pay my tuition,” he said, playfully returning her smile.

"It's the least I can do for my second favorite nephew," Maggie said.

"You only have two nephews," Landry said, clutching his hand to his chest in mock pain. "I always knew Justin was your favorite."

Once he said the name, it was apparent why he seemed familiar. Though they didn’t really look that much alike, they had the same nose and smile.

“Would you care for a tour?" he asked.

"Maybe next time," Maggie said before I could speak up. "The Vanguard’s been monopolizing her time this last week, and she's got school work to catch up on."

“The Vanguard, huh,” he said, looking me up and down. “You look a little young to be working for those guys.”

“She’s not,” Maggie said. “She’s interning with one of the secretaries.” She was so casual about it that if I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t have realized she was lying.

"Okay, well next time then," he said, before turning back to the box he’d been working on as I followed Maggie.

“I’m sorry you had to lie to your nephew for me,” I said, once Landry was out of earshot.

“It’s fine. I’d rather you didn’t talk about anyone you met in the office, but this way it won’t seem out of place if you let something slip,” she said, leading me down the hall. “This is my office; you can work in here.” She unlocked the door and motioned for me to go inside. “The computer isn’t the newest, but it’s connected to the internet and should suit your needs. Do you need anything?”

"I’m fine, thanks," I said, setting my bag on the large wooden desk.

"Alright, bathrooms down the hall to the right, and I'll be out on the floor if you need anything," she said, closing the door behind her.

Turning on Maggie's computer, I pulled my flash drive out and plugged it in. Maggie's office was an absolute treasure trove. Several tall bookcases were filled to the brim with old leather-bound volumes, while maps and paintings lined the dark green walls, various knickknacks filled in any spare space. It was a little more cluttered than I would have pictured her office. Focusing on the screen in front of me, I tried to ignore my surroundings. I knew I could lose myself for hours exploring the contents of those shelves if I gave myself a chance.

‘The role of dark humor in children's literature' was displayed in bold type across the top of the screen with absolutely nothing below it. This was supposed to be a year-long project, but having missed the first couple of months of school, I was already behind. I was supposed to have a general outline to discuss with Mr. Mansell by tomorrow. Though he would probably give me a little leeway, I needed something to give him, and I hadn't even settled on what works I was going to use yet.

Lewis Carroll's Alice books were an obvious choice and ones I was familiar with, but I also liked Roald Dahl with his Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or James and the Giant Peach. I had considered finding an author I wasn't already familiar with, but I worried that with everything going on, I wouldn't have the time or inclination to really read and analyze something new.

I always had a little writer's block when I first started a project, even when I had a pretty good idea of where I wanted to go with it, and it was always ten times worse when I didn't. It was probably a good twenty minutes before I hit my first key, but once I did, the words began to pour out. Nothing poetic or insightful yet, this was just an outline, but hopefully the cornerstone of what would turn out to be an A+ paper.

Thinking back to the books of my childhood, I realized that I had read quite a bit of dark fiction. I had always been a little overly serious as a child, and those types of stories just seemed to draw me in better than the lighter ones my friends had enjoyed. I worked for a couple of hours, Maggie checking in on me once to see if I wanted anything for dinner, before the inspiration started to fade.

Yawning, I stretched my back. The clock on the wall said it was a little after six. My eyelids were starting to feel heavy, and the words were beginning to blur on the screen. I had a rough draft of several pages completed, with a solid outline for the rest, more than enough to satisfy Mr. Mansell, but I still had a couple of ideas rattling around in my head that I knew I’d lose if I didn’t get them down. I had an hour before the shop closed, and I was determined to punch out another paragraph or two before calling it quits.

My head popped up, a crashing noise echoing in my ears, and confusion clouding my mind. Where was I? Unfamiliar shadows shifted in the darkness, large looming shapes seeming to form and then disappear as I tried to focus on them. My heart racing, I sat there staring into the darkness, a moment of utter panic freezing me in place, before the fog of sleep lifted, and I remembered where I was.

Sighing, I lifted my hand, waving it back and forth over my head until the motion sensors activated, bathing the room in light. The shadows resolved into the familiar and non-threatening clutter of Maggie’s office. You’re a little old to be scared of the dark I chided myself, leaning back in the chair. My heartbeat was just beginning to slow back to normal when I glanced towards the computer screen and realized it was completely dark. No, no, no, I cried, frantically shaking the mouse. Relief washed over me when a second later, the screen sprang back to life.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d saved, and I would have been ticked if I lost all that work because I fell asleep. Across from me, the digital clock read 7:10; at least it wasn’t too late. Quickly I hit save on the computer before powering it down and throwing the flash drive into my bag.

The hallway was dark, and unlike the office, these lights weren’t on a motion switch. None of the lights were on, and the building felt deserted. The shop closed at seven but where was Maggie? Surely, she hadn’t forgotten that I here.

I kept a hand on the wall running my fingers across the brick surface as I shuffled my way towards the back door. Walking across the archway that led to the gallery, I glanced towards the front windows. The streetlights cast odd shadows that seemed to dance across the showroom as the curtains rippled back and forth in the wind. I was a couple of steps into the open before my mind registered the problem.

Why were the curtains moving? Taking a closer look, I realized that not only were the curtains moving, but the street lights were flashing off jagged edges of broken glass. In my earlier confusion, I had forgotten about the crash that had woken me up.

I hoped it was just vandals, a brick thrown through a window for kicks, but movement by one of the display cases dispelled that fantasy. Quickly I jumped out of the archway and back to the relative safety of the dark hallway. Pressing my back against the wall, I peeked out around the corner, hoping that it wasn't what I thought it was.

She was upright this time, but there was no mistaking the skeletal frame standing at the front of the shop. Swaying back and forth, she stood there, her clawed hand pressed against the wall. I had no idea what she was doing, but at least she seemed distracted. I considered returning to Maggie’s office and calling her for help, but I rejected it almost immediately. The creature had broken through a windshield with only a couple of strikes, it would get through that thin wooden door long before anyone could get here to help me, and there was no use pretending that it wasn’t here for me. Maggie’s shop was miles from the Spencer estate. There was no other reason for it to show up here.

My only escape was the back door, but to get to it, I had to walk past the archway and down the hall to the back. I’d be in full view of the creature the entire time; all it had to do was lookup. Crouching down slightly, I eased away from the wall. The creature hadn’t moved. I crept out into the open. Barely picking up my feet, I shuffled towards the short hall to the back door. I was almost there when a low growl resonated behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the creature had turned. Shadows obscured its face, but I could tell it was looking right at me.

With a scream, the creature lunged forward, toppling over a large Victorian dollhouse. As it moved further into the showroom, the air suddenly began to hum. On the floor beneath it, a security ward activated, webs of green energy flaring up at the creature’s intrusion, attempting to contain it. It only slowed the creature for a second. As I watched, it opened its mouth and seemed to inhale, drawing the energy from the ward into its body. Once the ward was silenced, the creature continued forward only to be confronted again by a larger, stronger ward.

I could see that there were still three more wards between me and it, green lines drawn on a cabinet, another on a vase, and the last and largest etched on the floor just in front of the archway leading to the hall where I stood, but at the rate it was moving they would only buy me a minute or two at most. Seeing that it was already almost done draining the second ward, I tore my eyes from it and ran to the door.

Hurtling into the metal frame, I frantically grabbed at the lock. It was a heavy deadbolt, and the small nob kept slipping out of my sweaty grasp. My bag slipped off my shoulder, catching on my elbow, dragging my already tired arm down. Dropping the bag to the floor, I wiped my hand on my pants and willed myself not to look back as I tried again. I could hear things being thrown to the ground as she got closer, and it was all I could do to not look over my shoulder.

The stiff latch finally turned. I tried to rip open the door and barreled out into the parking lot, barely catching myself against the side of Maggie’s car as I skidded in the loose gravel. The spring-loaded door slamming shut behind me, and I heard the latch slide back in place seconds before a weight crashed into it. An unearthly wail came from the other side of the door as the creature slammed into it over and over again. The door rattled on its frame but held tight.

The door shuddered three more times, and then there was silence. Carefully stepping up to the door, I placed my ear against the cool metal surface. Hearing nothing, I stepped back. How smart was it? Would it be able to work the lock? Probably not with its hands. Would it think to go back out the window and come around? There were no lights in the back alley, and my eyes darted from shadow to shadow, looking for any movement, trying to look everywhere at once. I needed to get out of here. I tried the car door, but it was locked, and Maggie had the keys anyways. Where was she?

I thought about making a run for it down the alley and out onto the street, but I wasn’t sure I could outrun it. With limited options, I started forming the weave. I was so frantic that I lost it twice before I finally drew the veil forth. Its misty border taking form a few feet in front of me. I saw something moving at the alley entrance, and a high pitched pitiful whine rose from that direction. Not giving a thought to where I wanted to go, I ran for the veil. The moment my foot crossed over, I dropped the weave.

For a moment, I thought I was safe, but the whine of the creature was quickly replaced by a near-deafening howl that seemed to be coming from every direction. All around me, the veil trembled, large ropes of energy lashing around, as shapes began forming in the fog. The noise continued to increase as more and more shapes materialized, encircling me.

Crouching down, I covered my ears, trying to block out the sound, but it seemed to reverberate in my head. As the noise grew louder, pain began to radiate from my forearm growing more intense until it felt like my entire arm was on fire. Screaming, I let go of my ears and looked down.

Maher's bonding weave was flaring so brightly that I could see the glow through the fabric of my shirt. Pulling up my sleeve, I clutched at my arm. I had totally forgotten about the weave and hadn't even thought about the fact that I was bringing a foreign awen into the veil. Squeezing my eyes shut, I braced for the inevitable; I was dead.

But they didn’t attack. They should have attacked. They should have attacked the moment I entered the veil. I should have been dead before I even realized what was happening. When I had exposed the shifter, they had descended on him immediately like a pack of ravenous wolves, so why weren’t they doing the same now? Cautiously I opened my eyes. Instead of tearing me limb from limb, they floated around me, rocking back and forth. Yellow eyes glaring out at me from misty hoods while their high pitched howls continuing to echo through the veil. It was as if they were torn on what to do.

It was only a tiny bit of Emily’s awen, and they didn’t seem to know what to make of it. Maybe it wasn’t enough to signify an actual intruder. One drifted closer, its clawed hand reaching towards me. I tried to drawback, but it suddenly lunged forward, grabbing my arm. Its claw-like fingers felt icy against my skin, the cold burning almost as much as the bonding weave that was still glowing brightly. I watched as the weave began to unravel, and the strands of energy traveled down my arm and into the guardian that held me. Once it was removed, he released my arm and disappeared. All around me, the others vanished as quickly as they'd arrived, leaving me frightened and alone.