Darcy, Simon, I, and the sleeping Isa sat on benches near the cafeteria when the sorcerer arrived. The fortysomething Hunter looked less intimidating in broad daylight than in the Otherworldly gloom. He introduced himself as Andrew Wiggs, assuming that was his real name, and with his spectacles and his receding hairline, he wouldn't have looked out of place in a classroom had you clad him in an argyle sweater. Which made him the right person to recruit someone young and impressionable into his organization.

"You need a hospital?" Wiggs asked as Darcy scrutinized my arm.

It was a question to break the ice, to get me to lower my guard. I tried to be curt. "No."

He laughed. "Lucky you. My colleagues and I were on a patrol in Sleepy Hollow when Mage Leaf called. Count yourself lucky that your town is so close." From his pocket, he revealed an apple. "Here, it's from the Netherlands."

"I'd prefer something local."

"But it's organic!" he said and put the apple back. "You need the energy. This was a dangerous changeling you met. Without his fairy godmother, we'd have pursued him for sure."

A fairy godmother. Besides being a princess, having a fairy godmother like Cinderella was a childhood dream of mine. Now, I wasn't sure about that anymore. "D-did she sent those monsters?"

"Who, Titania? If we only knew. What monsters did you encounter?"

That was a question I was willing to answer. I told him everything about my fight against the barghest and the Cad Goddeu.

He laughed again. "A Seelie and an Unseelie creature? That's a lot for one day. You went through quite the fight, kiddo."

I nodded, not out of agreement but to keep him talking.

"See, it's my duty to report any unregistered practitioners in my jurisdiction to the Council. Your Initiation will be scheduled for Monday. I'll meet you personally at our headquarters and show you the way to the Councillors."

Way to make decisions for me. "Hypothetically," I said. "What happens if I don't come?"

"Well, you can still enjoy our protection as a hedge witch, but the Cunning Folk Academy is only open for you if you're Initiated. I'm a combat magic teacher there, so maybe I'm biased, but it's a great school."

I nodded out of politeness.

One of the other Hunters approached Sorcerer Wiggs and reminded him about the Jersey Devil.

He winked at us. "Duty's calling. See you later!"

Our glamour still hovered above the benches as long as Darcy's Veil Pixie's floated there. I was glad that he was gone. He was just doing his job, sure, but I felt more comfortable around Darcy. She was closer to my age, closer to my level of power, and less threatening. She held my arm and inspected it with the kind of care I hadn't seen in a long time.

"Do I need a hospital?" I asked. "Or can you heal this?"

Darcy let go of my arm. "The wound by a barghest does not heal."

"Yeah, unless you do supernatural healing," Simon said. "You're better at excuses than that."

"Excuses? " she asked "I wonder how good your excuses are once Dad learns of your reckless behavior today. You almost got us killed!"

Simon stood up from his bench. He didn't turn around, he didn't say "goodbye", he just headed to the bus station without looking. Ouch.

I didn't want to take sides here. I never had enough "family experience" to know how to defuse drama like this. My father was always overworked and, even when she was still there, my mother never showed up during my science fairs or spelling bees either.

"Thanks a lot for saving my brother," Darcy said, the moment he stepped out of earshot. "I owe you one. But never let Simon know that I said this."

I answered with a friendly, casual laugh.

"This is not a joke," Darcy continued. "I arrived way too slowly. Who knows what could have happened."

"Don't blame yourself. I didn't make that much of a difference. He probably saved me more with that horseshoe than I saved him. Anyone with a crowbar and a Molotov cocktail would've killed these things faster."

"A contribution is a contribution," she said.

I slouched against the bench. Stupid venom. A sense of nausea filled my head and felt like it'd never go away.

Darcy saw the subtle signs and knew what to do. From her backpack, she took out a bottle full of green liquid and filled it in a throwaway plastic cup.

"This potion contains St. John's wort and starflower seeds as antidepressants along with garlic, salt, and iron-rich spinach to ward off Otherworldly effects. It works like a placebo. By convincing you that you are healthy, you subconsciously channel aether to transfigurate yourself into a healthier state."

Spinach. Popeye's gonna love it.

As much as I hated the taste, drinking the potion cleared my mind like supernatural aspirin - hopefully with fewer side effects. I could think again. I could sit straight and look Darcy in the eye.

"Thanks a lot," I said. "What was his name? That of the changeling I met, I mean."

"Zane - at least, that's his false name."

"False name?"

"Yes. If you know someone's true name, you can forge a connection with their true self. Therefore, Zane and Titania use names that are not theirs."

"Any idea what he wanted from me?"

"Sorcerer Wiggs knows more," she said. "All I know is that he and Titania hate the Veil. It checks their power. Without it, people like me or you might gain power as monsters do when they cause fear."

"Wait, how would I become too powerful? I don't eat fear for breakfast. I prefer cereals."

Darcy groaned at the terrible joke. "Heroes and gods gain power through positive emotions. Monsters through negative ones. Nobody knows how this is decided or why. Only that their power scales to Awareness and without the Veil, there would be no balance."

Power gained through people's positive emotions. That sounded like being a celebrity. Who didn't dream of being famous? Okay, I didn't - I was scared of the gossip - but most young people did.

Isa even gave me a cool stage name. "Night Witch". Granted, witches normally cackle and cook babies in cauldrons, so, I'd have to ask my PR department for better names, but the thought was cool. Even if someone like me could never be a chosen folkloric hero. Those got favors by the gods and I was the tiny wicked witch no-one liked.

"So, does that mean I'll get into trouble?" I asked. "Because Isa saw me."

"You didn't do this on purpose."

My Mom didn't either. And yet she got punished for what was probably a fake video of her slinging spells in the open. Or so Dad told me.

"What about Sorcerer Wiggs' offer?" Darcy asked. "You in?"

"Not sure if I can trust you guys."

"Why not?"

"'Trust' is a scary word," I said. "Just look at rhyming words. 'Must', 'rust', 'disgust'."

"'Just'," Darcy added.

"Not funny," I said. "If you want an honest answer, I hate secrets. And you guys are all about it."

"We have no secrets from each other. With so many enemies, we wouldn't have survived if we didn't go to hell and back for each other."

My arm ached.

"The bite of a barghest doesn't heal by natural means," she said, "but if you trust me, I can try my best."

I took my Xperia out of my backpack. Encased in my bag, it had survived the ectoplasmic assault and showed a signal again. 5 p.m. Minutes in the Otherworld, two hours in the real world. Dad might become suspicious if he discovered my wound. Not to mention that it still hurt.

"Yes," I said. "I trust you."

"Enough to give me a hair?"

Oh, no. I knew what she was planning.

Darcy touched her bracelet and materialized her owl familiar. For the first time, I saw its feathers in the Sun. It didn't look as intimidating as under the whirling clouds of the Otherworld, but rather like a cute feathered friend as you might see it in the petting zoo.

"This is Lyfa," Darcy said.

"Hi, Lyfa!" I said. "My cat is called Siris."

Lyfa gave me a look that reminded me of the popular "O RLY" meme, but maybe that was just because the meme had a snow owl as its picture. I wish I had a telepathic bond with that thing, too. Then, I knew what it had to say. Was it as snarky as Siris or more level-headed like its master?

"Will you give me a hair?" Darcy asked.

"Yes," I said. "But only if you give it back immediately after that."

"I will."

I pulled on a strand of my brown hair and held it out for Lyfa to reach.

She plucked it with her beak.

"Ouch!"

Darcy rummaged in her bag. She took out a small, portable doll's wardrobe from which she took out a figurine wearing a brown wig. She searched for clothes that resembled my sweater and put washable red paint over her sleeve to mimic my wound. The moment Darcy pressed my hair against it, I bonded with the doll.

I knew this doll type. It was called a poppet and worked like how Hollywood portrayed voodoo. If a practitioner did something to a poppet, that also happened to the person it represented. Why? I'm glad you asked.

Everything has a soul. Part of it is life energy which is linked to the brain, the nervous system, and consciousness. But people aren't just brains. They got hands, blood, hairs, true names, favorite items or clothing articles, and other objects that formed their identity - their spiritual essence.

Such essences could be antipathic - like iron to fairies or garlic to vampires - or sympathetic - like the doll was to me. Once Darcy gave it a tag with my name and placed my hair on its head, the bond was forged.

I felt as she poured disinfectant over the Marissa-doll's wound. I felt as she pressed a blanket over its arm. Aether spilled into my cut, cleaned the blood, and made me feel the pain of alcohol touching sore skin.

My wound closed and my sweater looked clean.

Doctors could kill with the same tools they use for healing. And a poppet can be used for torture as well as medicine. Magic is a form of power and what one does with that power is what mattered.

I trusted Darcy that she used her power for good. At least, I trusted her while I was watching. What disciplines one could learn in part depended on aether talents. Sympathetic magic worked best on those with poor raw power, average shaping, and strong distance. I didn't want to give anyone the power to affect me from several blocks away if they wanted to. I wasn't that naive.

"Thank you so much for that!" I said. "But I need my hair back."

"Of course."

As she gave them back, the bond broke.

Isa suddenly yawned. She had been sleeping on the bench like a baby after Simon brought her here. Thankfully, she was okay. She looked no worse than all those times she fell asleep during class and thanks to her pigtails, she didn't even have any hair on her face.

"Guys, I had the weirdest dream imaginable- oh, hey!" she said, as she saw Darcy.

Darcy winked. "You must be Isa, right? I'm Darcy, Simon's older sister."

Isa stood up and faced me. "Is she your new friend?"

"No," I said, "I mean, yes, I mean, why do you ask?"

Without that mask, all that sass and confidence from before was gone. Did she hear anything? Of course not, we had glamour, but still.

"No need to be nervous. I like that you're making friends here, but she looks like a prep. Be care-" Isa yawned, "-ful. Man, I didn't eat enough sugar today."

Darcy nudged me and whispered. "How about we continue in the Waystone Tavern? I can examine you to see if you are fit for the Academy."