A Class of Conjuring

"Old Chicago," Dash said, standing next to me while the others chastised each other over what each decided to wear on the trip.

"My parents brought me here when I was seven," I said. "It was the first time I visited the Museum of Magic."

I remembered the museum as if I'd visited it yesterday. The halls were lined with portraits of famous witches, warlocks, and wizards. One entire floor of the building was dedicated to the history of magic, dispelling some of the negative beliefs about the profession. Another floor housed a plethora of ancient artifacts dedicated to the craft. Remembering the museum reinforced the reason I was at the gates to the city, I wanted to be the best. I wanted to someday have my picture hanging on the wall in the museum.

A man passed by and looked at us, eying me especially hard. I knew why, but I had hoped people would have forgotten by now. Two years ago, Braeden and I came to Old Chicago to attend a magic convention. We were heavy into Cosplay and really reveled in the fact that so many non-witches and non-warlocks wanted to be just like us. At the convention, we performed small tricks, avoiding anything where I had to use my expansive powers, the ones I'd yet to learn to control. On day three of the convention a young woman decided to flirt with Braeden, hanging all over him while he walked with me. The woman suggested the two of them go off together and leave me behind. She called me a two-bit, rabbit out of a hat magician. She said the real witches and warlocks were gathering across the street at a sports stadium called Soldier Field. The stadium was famous for its design, and the team that played there during the winter months. We followed the girl to the field and found thousands of people in the stands, watching the witches and warlocks perform. The young woman again urged Braeden to shew me away. She also suggested that I was not in the same league with the other witches and warlocks who were performing. So, I decided to prove her wrong.

Despite Braeden's objections, I stepped to the middle of the field, determined to create the world's greatest fireworks show. Instead, I cast an out-of-control fireball that destroyed half the stadium and injured dozens. The stadium still laid in rubble today.

"What's wrong?" Dash asked. "Look like you don't feel well."

His confidence in me was already low, so I saw no reason to tell him I'd been banned from Old Chicago, as well as a dozen other cities. My goal was to lay low and not do anything stupid. At least now I understood Edius may have had something to do with the fireball destroying the stadium, though the people of the city wouldn't care to hear my excuses.

Braeden moved between us and stared at the city with us.

"You remember?" I asked.

Braeden nodded. "We'll have to stay away from crowds as we move around the city," he said. "You can't draw attention to yourself." He looked at Dash. "It's going to be up to you to help her do that." Dash smirked at Braeden and looked at me, wearing his best poker face.

"Didn't you..." Oliver began, but Braeden quickly cut him off. Oliver then handed each of us a map and pointed out important places and things. He'd marked a path on each map, paths leading us to our mentor. Braeden studied the map and shook his head. "This takes us right through the city crowds." He looked at me. "We can't do that."

I was the elephant in the room. We were going to have to figure out how we would traverse the city without me being recognized. For the most part, everyone seemed cool with having to make the effort to keep me hidden. "I have an idea," Kyler said. "We dress her up. Change her appearance."

"Well, we know you can turn her into a frog," Dash said, and everyone laughed.

"Smartass," Kyler said and shook his head. "We need to make her ugly."

"No thanks," I said.

He nodded. "Like the witch in that movie, Wizard of Ohio."

"Of Oz,” I said. "And you can be a flying monkey." The others laughed, and Kyler shoved his hands in his pockets. "No thanks."

Dash chuckled and slapped his hand on Kyler's shoulder. "We can protect her from the crazies," Dash said. "And hopefully from herself."

Dash walked away and passed through the city gates. The others paired off and went their own directions.

"Thanks for the support," I said.

"You're welcome." He smirked, and I'd had enough.

I looked at our destination on the map. Oliver had written Barbarus the Magnificent next to a small building. Barbarus was going to be our mentor. "I'll see you there," I said to Dash. "You need our protection," he yelled.

I stopped and turned. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Besides, I don't want you to get caught up in the crowds of people who will be asking for my head. I wouldn't want you to get your hands dirty." The city had grown darker and colder since the last time I visited. I pulled my robe tighter and moved the hood over my head. Unless someone studied my face, they would never know the person inside the robe.

I studied the map and found it took me nowhere near the stadium I'd destroyed. I took the next street and found it clogged with people. The Old Chicago Spring Festival was in full swing. Vendors sold food and crafts. People drank beer, stumbling through the streets. Others had their faces buried in their iPhone 25. I looked up at the apartment buildings, every window aglow with a computer screen or television. The streets were absent of kids. When I glanced at the map again, I saw the path Oliver had drawn to Barbarus' house had changed. And right before my eyes the path changed again. Edius. He was near.

The quickest way to Barbarus' was going to be through the shadier, more undesirable parts of Old Chicago, the parts no amount of magic could help. When the world began accepting magic was real and witches and warlocks actually existed, something happened to mankind. It allowed the dark arts to seep into society. Parts of cities and villages accepted the dark side of magic, like Old Chicago had. Things fell apart quickly, creating borders where there had been none.

I took a left at the next street, a street lit by old lampposts. A street lined by ladies of the night, men of the night, and everything in between. There were no cars or trucks or vehicles of any kind. People pissed in the streets and dropped their trash wherever they pleased. I stepped onto the sidewalk, trying to stay in the shadows, watching every man, still feeling as if Edius was nearby.

"Hey, baby," a man said and stepped from between two buildings. He wore pants and shoes but no shirt, his chest a collage of tattoos. He grabbed my arm, and I jerked away. "That's no way to treat a fella."

Two more men appeared, and the three surrounded me. Briefly, I wondered where my protectors were, the group of four guys who were destined to keep me safe. "I don't want any trouble," I said. My hands began to warm, my mind already moving into defensive mode. Here I could destroy buildings, and a large section of the population wouldn't care.

"We're not looking for trouble," one of the men said. "We're looking for a little action. I think you got exactly what we're looking for." He nudged one of the others. "What say you, guys?"

"I say we drag her back into the alley and show her what a real man can do," the other guy said.

I let out a loud breath. "I need to get moving, or I'm going to be late,” I said.

They closed in around me, each needing a mint. "You're not going anywhere," the third guy said. "At least not until we're done with you."

I considered giving them more than a little action, but quickly talked myself down; though, they would have looked good as cockroaches. I didn't need the attention, so I shoved my hands in my pockets.

But it was too late. I had the attention. "I remember you," a woman said as she stepped from the shadows from where the men came.

"Shit," I said, recognizing her, the woman who warmed up to Braeden right before I destroyed the stadium. I really did need to get the hell away from them.

"How's he doing?" She looked around for Braeden. "Guess you don't know. I didn't think he'd put up with amateur hour for too long."

I rolled my shoulders and leaned my head left then right, trying to relax, trying to subdue the anger heading toward my hands. "You need to let me be on my way," I said.

"You know this bitch?" one of the men asked the woman. I glared at the man, and he smirked. I tucked my warming hands inside the sleeves of my robe. He'd made a grave mistake, and it was taking everything I had not to set him ablaze. "She's the witch who destroyed the stadium a few years ago," she said. "Practically ruining the entire city. Where's your boyfriend?"

I started to ask which boyfriend, but that sounded cocky even to me. I tried to move between two of the guys, but they quickly closed ranks. "Look. I just wanna pass through without any problems." I glared at the woman. "I don't wanna hurt any of you."

"You're not supposed to be here," she said. "In fact, the authorities would pay a pretty penny to know you're here." She nodded at the men.

I stepped in the opposite direction, and the men blocked my way again. There would be no choice. I extended my hands through the ends of my sleeves, my palms red, the fireballs already forming. My body had instantly gone into attack mode.

"Back away," she told the men. "This witch is crazy.'

"Fucking right," I said and slipped between the men as they parted. I didn't look back to see if they were going for help or if they'd decided to pursue me. All I knew was I needed to get out of view.

I spent the next twenty minutes navigating the streets and avoiding people, always looking over my shoulder. Against ordinary people and lower-tier witches and warlocks, I didn't need help from the others. But I knew deep down when it came to battling the likes of archmages and experienced witches, warlocks, and wizards, I would need their help.

An hour after I'd left Dash, I arrived at Barbarus' location where I found Dash waiting, whistling as if he'd been waiting days for me to arrive. "What took you so long?" he asked. He glanced at his wrist as if he were checking the time on a watch he didn't have. The bad boy was back in full swing.

"I ran into a group of people who wanted to throw me out of the city." I crossed my arms. "We should have brought butter."

Dash frowned. "Why?"

"Because they were almost toast."

"That would've been real smart."

I shook my head and bit my lower lip. His sarcasm was neverending.

"You do realize you could have avoided the entire situation. You didn't even have to travel the streets." He pointed at the glowing sliver across the street. "It's a waypoint," he said. "They're all over the city. Only the smartest witches and warlocks can use them." Another dig at me.

"I have used them, Dash," I said. "I forgot about them." I took a seat on the small brick wall with him. "Edius is around here. I felt his presence." I told him about the map and, though he said nothing, I could see it on his face he thought they'd all made a mistake by letting me go off alone.

Dash patted my leg. "I'm glad you made it here safely," he said with exactly zero emotion. He motioned over his shoulder at the house. "I think the old man is waiting on us. Let's go see what adventure they have in mind."

He walked past me and headed up the walkway toward the house, leaving me in his wake.

"Ah, you finally made it," Barbarus said when he answered the door. "I was beginning to worry."

Barbarus was an older wizard, his white hair and white beard something from generations ago. He wore a blue robe and on his blue robe were hundreds of yellow quarter moons. He embellished the role of wizard. Oddly enough, he wore no shoes.

He offered us a seat and sat across from his, motioning at the steaming drinks on the table. "Crow's tea?" he offered.

Dash and I glanced at each other and then shook our heads. Barbarus sipped from his cup and studied us over the brim. His eyes shifted back and forth. I looked around the room. Nothing stated a world-class wizard lived in the house. "It's all in another room," he said to me and sat his cup on the table. He nodded at us. "Why is it you two can't work together? You act like a husband and wife who've been married too long to talk to each other."

Dash and I looked at each other. Barbarus didn't seem to be the type to listen to excuses, so I kept my mouth shut. But he also wasn't the type to accept silence.

"See what I mean," Barbarus said. "Two old married people." He pointed at us. "Now someone tell me what the hell's going on."

Dash and I spoke at the same time and then clammed up immediately. We did it again, and Barbarus planted his palm against his forehead. He pointed at me. "Ladies first."

Dash sighed in frustration and flopped his hands in his lap.

"Well," I began, "I think we just don't know each other as well as we should. I think it would help if we talked and understood each other. If we're going to be a team, then we need to act like a team." Hoping to not make things worse, I stopped there. Dash deserved a chance to defend himself.

"Awesome," Dash said. "I don't see it that way at all." Agitation rode every word he spoke, but I didn't sense it as an agitation toward me. There was something else eating at him. "Everything she touches she destroys." He shook his head. "Do I really need to go down the long list of cities who'd rather not have her visit?" He glanced at me, and I sensed nervousness.

"Why do you think that happens?" Barbarus asked Dash.

He shrugged. "She has a temper."

"You've experienced this temper?" Barbarus asked.

I turned in my seat and tucked my legs beneath my bottom. Getting hot, I removed my robe, catching Dash studying my body.

"Once," Dash said. "And I had to save her from herself." Proud of himself, he smiled.

"So, you're basing your entire opinion on one incident you witnessed?" Barbarus asked. He returned the cup to the table and stood. "Let's go so I can see what you've got." Dash and I watched each other as Barbarus left the house. "That was a setup," Dash said. He followed Barbarus out, and I trailed behind. Barbarus entered the woods far ahead of us, and Dash looked back at me, and our eyes locked, but I wasn't sure how to read his eyes.