by Lysa Daley
But I was grateful to be back on campus.
I grabbed a fruit smoothie at Northern Lights, my favorite campus café. The little indoor/outdoor cafe was nestled under a copse of tall pines that lined the very northern edge of campus. The cafe sat between the film school and the business school, giving it a sort of upscale, yet arty vibe.
While I waited for a tall red-headed undergrad to whip up my green smoothie, I grabbed a fresh box of spicy tuna roll from a refrigerator case. Fresh sushi was one of the perks of attending a California university.
I took my late breakfast out to the shaded patio and grabbed a copy of the school newspaper. A bright sun filled the sky on this perfect seventy-two degree February day. A pair of business school students sat nearby pouring over what appeared to be thick contracts while furiously taking notes. Otherwise, we were alone.
The back of the school newspaper still had a small old-fashioned help wanted section. Unfortunately, the selection of jobs was pretty discouraging. I could’ve been locker room attendant at the health club or an assistant ground crew member. With a master’s degree, I’d been hoping for something that used my training just a bit — like library attendant or a humanities research assistant.
“If you’re looking for work, I know of a very promising opening,” said a melodious male voice from behind me. I recognized the owner of the English accent before I even turned around.
“Hi, Mr. Stroud.” He was wearing his tweed sport coat and reading the London Time at the table behind me. He even had a bone china tea cup with what looked like milky tea in it. Not the regular disposable paper cups from the cafe. I tried to hide my surprise and said, “Funny seeing you here.”
Except it wasn’t really funny. He hadn’t been there two minutes ago when I sat down. Like my father, Stroud was a powerful mage. In fact, they’d gone to boarding school together.
“Yes, quite a coincidence,” he said wryly. “How’s school going?”
“It’s only been a little over a week, but so far, so good,” I replied. “Are you following me?”
“Lacey, what kind of man do you think I am?” He neatly folded the newspaper and set it down next to his tea.
When I needed money for tuition, Mr. Stroud had given me a job. Because of my special talent as a Class II Animagus Witch with the ability to turn into a small animal or bird, I’d been referred to a company that I basically thought was a low-end supernatural bounty hunting/repo firm.
It turned out that I couldn’t have been more mistaken.
Mr. Stroud was actually one of the leaders of the very powerful Society of Shadow, an organization that kept the world safe from black magic and dangerous supernaturals.
The good news was that I had been able to make enough money working for him to cover my tuition. The bad news was I still needed to figure out a way to earn steady money. Preferably in a way that had nothing to do with vampires, trolls, or my least favorite ghouls.
“What brings you all the way over to Westwood from downtown?”
“I’ve been asked to speak before an old colleague’s undergrad class on the history of magical weapons,” Mr Stroud explained. “Something I know quite a bit about.”
True. His office had several cabinets filled with various weapons, both old and new.
“What a treat for those students,” I said, packing up my bag. Mr. Stroud had been nothing but kind to me, but I still didn’t like the idea that he was stalking me.
“Any new from your father?” he asked.
“No,” I said a little too quickly. Mr. Stroud, an old school friend of my father’s, swore he wanted to help me clear my father’s name. But I wasn’t 100% sure I trusted him. After all, he’d been the one to discover the one piece of faerie gold left behind by whoever really stole the gold my father had been accused of taking. Coincidence? Perhaps.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you’re looking for employment,” he said, gesturing to the school paper. “We have a new case that potentially involves some lawbreaking mermaids and a necromancer. It pays extremely well.”
There was no way I was going back to work for him. I’d already politely declined when he offered me a job tracking down a shoplifting sprite.
“Look, Mr. Stroud,” I began. “I really appreciate the work you gave me. I wouldn’t be here without it, that’s for sure. But I don’t think being a seeker is the right field for me to pursue.”
“Then I have another job that might be perfectly suited for you,” he began. “The Society is quite a large organization with many departments.”
I felt like he was trying to trick me, luring me into some sort of trap.
“You’re so nice to offer, and, believe me, it’s hard to say no to work, but I haven’t completely recovered from that awful incident with the rogue vampire. Yes, he was a very bad vampire, but the whole nasty thing is still upsetting.”
“No, no, no. You misunderstand me,” he said. “I have a position that perfectly suits your educational experience, requires no fieldwork, nor any killing. In fact, no weapons of any sort would be necessary.”
“Really?”
“Why don’t you come by the office, and I’ll explain further? How about after your class on the witch trials? Did I ever mention my great-great-grandmother happened to live in Salem? Quite an interesting story.”
So he already knew my schedule. I refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting.
“Was she one of the girls put on trial?”
He shook his head. “No actual supernaturals were put on trial. All those poor regulars were innocent. Whole thing was a tragedy.”
“I have an appointment after class,” I said, trying to be vague. I really needed a job, and what was the harm in hearing him out. “How about after 3pm?”
He stood and extended a hand. “That sounds perfect.”
I shook his hand then turned to pick up my bag “I’ll see you then.”
When I looked back up, he was gone.
Chapter Three
The Cedar-Sinai Medical Center was huge.
It was one of the largest hospitals in the country, with a dozen medical buildings scattered around a campus of several square city blocks. Set slightly away from the other buildings stood the Center for the Study of Highly Contagious Diseases. On the very top floor was a specialized unit behind closed doors with a sign that read: “Airborne Contagion Unit. DANGER. Strictly Off Limits.”
But that wasn’t exactly true.
In fact, it wasn’t even a little bit true.
The top floor of this remote tower was reserved for cases that were supernatural in nature. Usually, the human patients involved didn’t quite know what had happened to them. Either their memories had been wiped or would soon be wiped of whatever supernatural encounter — zombie attack, vampire bite, faerie enchantment — they had experienced.
This specialized unit had specialized doctors (many supernatural) who had dealt with all of these conditions before.
I was here to visit Officer Sam Brown of the LAPD.
I first met Sam when he got nosy and questioned me after I’d returned from a troll’s lair. We kept bumping into each other in strange places. Well, the places weren't so strange, at least for me. They just all had to do with the supernatural world, which was something that a human LAPD officer shouldn't have been poking around in.
But somehow, and I still didn't exactly know how, Sam had figured out that the Ironwood Building had something to do with magic. He became doggedly determined to figure out exactly what was going on, no matter the cost.
Unfortunately, the cost ended up being painfully high for poor Sam who ended up on the wrong side of a vampire. In an attempt to save me, he’d gotten himself bit. So I spent the first forty-eight hours sitting by his bedside, breathing in the guilt like oxygen.
He’d remained unconscious almost the entire time, except for a few moments when his eyes fluttered open, and he looked around confused, then closed them again.
The truth was I d
idn't know anything about him. Was he married? Did he have girlfriend or fiancé? Kids? Did his parents live in town? Someone, somewhere, was surely looking for him.
Mr. Stroud had assured me that they had a liaison with the LAPD who would take care of informing his family.
“What are they going to tell them?” I had asked.
“Don't worry about it. They know how to handle these things.” Mr. Stroud patted my arm like a good little girl. “This isn’t the first time a human has gotten mixed up with one of our cases.”
“Oh, okay, good…”
Then he looked at me and frowned. “To be honest, I'm a little worried about you.”
“Me?”
“It seems as though you've gotten attached to this human?”
“Attached?” I said a little too loudly. “I don't even know him. Why would I be attached to him? I just feel like the fact that he’s in the hospital at all is my fault.”
“It's not your fault.” He assured me. “This is why we discourage humans from becoming involved in our cases. This is why we work in the shadows to protect the human world. These kind of sad outcomes happen when an untrained non-magical gets mixed up in our business. They can’t handle it.”
I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. “I understand.”
“Do you?” Mr. Stroud replied. “Just remember, if he recovers, you can't have any further contact with him.”
My cheeks flushed. “I know.”
Did he think I had feelings for this guy? I barely knew Sam. I mean, it was true that he was very sweet. And attractive. And the right age for me. It seemed like he and I could be friends if we got to know each other a little better. I supposed it was even within the realm of possibility that it could become more. I mean, like romantic.
But that wasn't the point.
Still, I knew for Sam’s sake that Mr. Stroud was right. Hopefully, he’d be able to recover fully and go back to his life, work, and family. Back to the world before he knew that vampires were real.
“These doctors are the best in the world at treating any complications from a vampire attack.” Mr. Stroud had added. “My suggestion to you, Lacey, is that you let this go. For your sake, as well as his.”
And I would let it go.
After Sam had healed. But until he was out of the woods, I was going to keep coming by every day to visit him. For no other reason than because he seemed so alone.
When I walked into his small room a nurse was changing his medication. Along with saline, Sam received a fresh supply of healthy human blood and I.V. antibiotics.
“Hey Lacey.” Nurse Dale, a regular daytime nurse, always greeted me warmly. After almost two weeks, the medical staff knew me. “Our patient is doing better today. The night nurse said he even sat up and asked where he was.”
Definite progress.
“Did the nurse think he was coherent and alert?” I asked.
“She did.”
That was a relief. There’d been some concern that the blood loss had been significant enough to potentially cause some brain damage. All the scans had been clear, but the doctors had warned that sometimes they don’t know how much damage has occurred until the patient fully woke up.
Dale went on, “Apparently they had a very nice conversation where she informed him that he had been injured in the line of duty and was recovering in the hospital.”
“Well, that’s good news.”
“Sure is.”
Sam lay snoring as I sat down at his bedside. I felt a twinge of nerve. If he woke up, would he even remember me? I wasn’t sure how the mind wipe worked. It would be a little embarrassing if he woke up, took one look at me, and freaked out because a strange girl was sitting by his bed.
Even though I knew he probably wouldn’t have an answer, I asked the nurse, “Have they determined how extensive will his memory loss be yet?”
“Don’t worry. He won’t remember a thing about any old vampire,” Nurse Dale replied, connecting the final I.V. bag. “Instead, he was implanted with the memory of being attacked by a drug dealer’s pit bull while he was trying to saving you.”
That mostly made sense. Being attacked by a dog would explain the bite mark on his neck.
“Well, I’ll give you two a little privacy,” Dale said as he swooped out of the room with his cart.
I think the staff was a little confused by my relationship with Sam. Why was this girl showing up all the time? She must’ve been his girlfriend or something? But no one ever said anything. No one ever asked me.
And I was grateful for that.
So far, I hadn’t run into any other friends or family members.
After Dale wheeled out his cart, I took a seat, pulled out my e-reader, and brought up the L.A. Times sports page.
Maybe it was true. Perhaps I was just the tiniest bit attracted to this guy. I didn’t want to admit it because relationships between humans and supernaturals were always complicated, to say the least.
“Hey, good news,” I said as he slept on. “The Chicago Bull won their game last night.”
I’d heard that it was good to read to unconscious patients. So to pass the time during my visits, I decided that I would read to him. The only problem was I didn’t know the first thing about what Sam liked and didn’t like.
Back in the Ironwood Building, one of the attendants told me that in his personal belongings, Sam had a Chicago Bulls keychain and a Chicago Bears phone case. Every Monday morning, I tried to find an article about a Chicago sports team to read to him.
I read, “The Bulls got a glimpse of what their top two draft picks are capable of during Saturday night’s game in LA.”
“What was the score?” a groggy voice asked.
Startled, I looked over to see Sam’s blurry, half-closed eyes looking at me.
“Well, good morning, Sunshine,” I said, repeating a phrase my mother said to me while I was growing up. Wow. It sounded dorky.
“Who were they playing? And what was the score?”
“The Lakers.” I scrolled through the article, trying to find the score.
A smile creased his lip and his eyes fluttered closed again. Without opening his eyes, he said, “I dreamed I was flying.”
“You did?”
“A big stone bird was carrying me.” He sounded like a person who was talking in their sleep.
“What kind of bird?” I asked. It wasn’t possible that he could remember that he’d been flown in the talons of a massive stone gargoyle right after he’d been injured. That part of his memory had been wiped clean.
But what if it hadn’t?
The doctors had been very clear that a human could only have their memory wiped one time before they ran the risk of having potential psychological issues. Apparently, multiple memory wipes could cause a perfectly sane person to go crazy.
Just when I thought he was asleep, he said, “A really ugly bird. Cold too.”
That sounded a little too much like a gargoyle. The cold stone creatures were incredible, but definitely not attractive.
“Sam,” I said, trying not to sound alarmed. “Sam, can you tell me more about the bird?”
He replied by snoring.
I sat back and sighed. He looked so peaceful, quietly sleeping there. But I was worried. A knot in the pit of my stomach had been growing. Mr. Stroud would protect the Society first. Despite the danger, he would have Sam’s mind wiped clean for a second time.
Somehow, I had to figure this out before anyone else did. There was no way I was going to let anything bad happen to Officer Sam Brown again.
Chapter Four
“I told you that you wouldn’t be disappointed.”
“You were right, Mr. Stroud.” I gawked at everything around me with my mouth hanging open. “This is not what I was expecting.”
He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, beaming with pride. “Welcome to the official Library of the Society of Shadows North American Offices.”
I turned a circle in the center of the ni
cest private library I had ever seen. It must have taken up at least half of the entire eleventh floor.
“We have approximately 2500 volumes and many more are available digitally,” he explained.
“Really?” I was impressed that the supernatural world was going digital.
“Of course.”
The room was sealed tight. I recognized the dials for both the temperature and moisture controls. Many of the floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves were also hermetically sealed by thick glass doors in order to protect the older and more valuable books — of which there appeared to be many. This library had been designed with the intention of keeping the collection safe from the elements.
Soft inset ceiling lights filled the room with a warm light. The clean, white walls and the lucite floors made me feel like I was standing inside a glowing crystal.
“We like to think that this is the best modern library that money could buy to house a collection of the oldest, most valuable books about the supernatural.” Mr. Stroud walked forward, and I followed deeper into the room. “They vary from books on craft, like potions and charms, to reference books on paranormal creatures and species, to quite a large section devoted to both history and biography.”
“This is amazing,” I said like a silly fan-girl. I loved libraries.
“In fact, we have one of the only remaining copies of the autobiography of Merlin the Great, written at the turn of the first century.” He gestured to a hermetically sealed display case that stood on its own, which exhibited a yellowing, handwritten book tipped up on an ornate stand.
“That really exists?” I moved closer to get a better look. Legend had it that Merlin himself, the first great wizard, had dictated his life story to a scribe not long before he died. Secrets of the universe and the very essence of magic were supposedly recorded in that book.
“Indeed, it does,” said another voice, gruff and gravely with the trace of a French accent. An elderly man shuffled toward us, wearing a brown tweed suit, a crisp cream-colored shirt and a bow tie that was too large for his small frame. He had the unmistakable twinkle in his eye of an elf, along with the slightly pointed ears. I immediately liked him.