《Resting Lich Face》


 1. A job offer

    ¡°Tell me again, why do you want me to work for you?¡±


    I paused, watching the man in the tweed jacket across the table from me. He appeared to be a quiet librarian type, a real Lavar Burton with a greying beard. His horn-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, in what seemed to be a perpetual low state of disbelief. We sat in a high-backed booth in my favorite coffee shop, in Sulfide, LA.


    ¡°Mostly because apparently you have taken up residence next to my school for years and we haven¡¯t detected you,¡± he said, intent on gauging my reaction.


    I greatly desired to give him a reason to now have found me. Sometimes you have to throw the bones that you get.


    ¡°Ah, so you¡¯ve found my little cottage behind my shop, have you?¡± I said, pausing to adjust my shawl.


    ¡°Miss¡­?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Miss Ada, but you can call me Ada, youngster.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m Dean Thomas, of the Quatrefoil School of Magic, which you should know as the only historically black college of magic in America.¡±


    To me, it sounded like he was about to go into a prepared speech on the merits of his institution.


    ¡°I¡¯m well versed in magic as you can probably guess. Did you want something special? A potion perhaps? A coffee? The location of the fountain of youth?¡±


    ¡°Nothing so mundane. We¡¯re looking for a new professor, someone with the skills you apparently possess. Wait, do you know where the fountain of youth is?¡±


    I eyed him carefully trying to hold back anything even close to a smile.


    ¡°Young man,¡± I said, ¡°I have no way to get any sort of diploma or transcript from any school I¡¯ve ever been to. However, that said, this is quite an interesting proposition. I haven¡¯t worked with other magicians in what feels like a long time. And as for the fountain of youth, you¡¯ll need to do your own research. This face is made through shea butter and hope.¡±


    ¡°You keep saying young man, but you do see my grey hairs, right? I¡¯m turning forty-seven next month.¡±


    He leaned in conspiratorially, so no one could overhear us in the coffee shop. He knew that I had our booth warded so this was probably just for show. Either way, he might not know about anything I had going on.


    ¡°All I am asking for is¡­ we¡¯re having an opening event a week before the students arrive. It¡¯s next week and the president himself has asked me to extend an invitation to you. Consider it a trial,¡± Dean Thomas sat back in his chair, fussing with his glasses.


    ¡°You know, young man, my hips don¡¯t work the way that they used to, and I¡¯m feeling the effects of age,¡± I pantomimed swooning.


    ¡°You walk like a spry cat. You appear to be not a day over sixty,¡± he said, flatly.


    ¡°An old lady never reveals her tricks,¡± I said.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°One of our professors thinks that you¡¯ve been here since the 1840s. I didn¡¯t believe her at first but,¡± he gestured to me, ¡° Now I can see that her idea might have some merit.¡±


    He slid a ticket over the table to me. It had a time and place listed, as well as directions.


    ¡°To anyone else, this will look like a regular ticket to the summer teachers conference, but head to the location listed, and ¡­ we¡¯ll let you in,¡± he sighed, once again with the glasses, he pushed them onto his forehead this time.


    ¡°There¡¯s something else that isn''t there? You¡¯re not telling me something,¡± I said.


    ¡°There is a reason I came to you. We had an incident, and the same professor¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re referring to Isis, who may be the professor in question, you don¡¯t have to beat around the bush. The two of us have known each other for some time.¡±


    When you¡¯re a half-fae demigod you tend to notice people who are around for more than a century. I wasn¡¯t but I respected her hustle. We¡¯d met on many occasions, but the last place I expected to find her was here.


    ¡°Well, even if you don¡¯t decide to work for us, I do have a need for someone with your special ability.¡±


    My ears perked up.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s something that I don¡¯t know much about. You see, yesterday one of the faculty was murdered, and unfortunately, we cannot rely on local law enforcement¡­ and¡­¡±


    ¡°It was necromancy, wasn¡¯t it, you can say it. I¡¯m old, not stupid,¡± I said, sighing as I leaned in.


    ¡°We have good reason to believe,¡± he said.


    ¡°Stop right there. Has it been more than seventy-two hours?¡± I said, picking up my bag.


    ¡°I, uh well no, it¡¯s been a day.¡±


    ¡°Take me there,¡± I said.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he sputtered, ¡°what?¡±


    ¡°If you want me to help, it has to be now. After three days, the image on their soul will fade, if it is indeed necromancy,¡± I said.


    ¡°That¡¯s helpful. I wish I knew more about it myself but, you understand of course.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    I gave the look to the barista. Greg was a transplant, who had come to Louisiana following his fianc¨¦e to her college. She hadn¡¯t realized that there were other boys out there besides Greg, leaving the poor boy to work here in a cajun small town. Of course, this was the Cajun Coffee underneath my shop so I was there frequently.


    ¡°I am going to open a teleportation gate to his place.. follow me.¡±


    Dean Thomas took me around the corner to the back of the building. We passed the stairs and the sign advertising ¡°Miss Adas Psychic Services¡±.


    We looked around. For a second I tapped into my soul vision, and seeing nothing, I gestured to him. One quick incantation and then a regular teleportation door appeared against the back wall.


    Dean Thomas strode through, and I paced behind him, adjusting my purple shawl so that it didn¡¯t flare out.


    On the other side of the door, he stood in a second-floor hallway. Windows gave the impression that we hadn¡¯t moved much.


    Then, after setting another round of warding spells, this time on the area, we walked to the next doorway down. He rattled the doorknob and the red door opened up with a creak.


    I smelled it. Back on the battlefields of the civil wars, the smell of death permeated the atmosphere, giving a pungent reminder that you were among the living. This was a tiny reminder that death went through the same phases for most of us.


    Here and now, more than a hundred and fifty years later, I smelled it fresh.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you do your thing,¡± he said, stepping back.


    ¡°Wise choice,¡± I said.


    I reached into my pouch drawing some essence of (y) to spread around. Drawing the circle around the living room, I breathed out soul, inhaled soul.


    Soul in. Soul out.


    ¡°Where is the body? Did someone move it?¡± I said.


    Dean Thomas cleared his throat and in the most apologetic tone I¡¯ve heard said,¡±It is in the other room. There¡¯s a sheet on it, but no one else besides myself and Isis has seen the body. One of my charms on him activated upon his death and, well.¡±


    I closed the circle.


    ¡°Take me to him,¡± I said.


    He walked into a room on my right, the elbows of his tweed jacket making him look every bit the professor. He still had his glasses on his forehead. It would have been cute if you were into that sort of thing.


    ¡°Right here.¡±


    In the center of a cold unfeeling bedroom, a body lay, feet jutting out from under the sheets. Black feet, with yellow soles, told me that this had been a tall man while he was alive.


    I reached out, searching with my soul sense. Usually, the dearly departed stayed attached to their bodies for three days.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ How long ago did you say he passed? Be as precise as possible if you could?¡±


    Dean Thomas made a show of checking the time on his ornate timepiece, even though we both knew. We both knew that he had that answer readily prepared.


    ¡°Twenty-two hours.¡±


    ¡°Impossible.¡±


    I searched, not finding what I wanted.


    ¡°Dean Thomas, this man has been soul-killed. There is no remnant left of him, not even a trace.¡±

 2. Clones

    The next day I sat in the living room thinking about making this choice. As usual, my clones sat with me. Each clone lasted about a week, and the spell itself was half of the requirement to lichdom. The other half being the phylactery of course. I kept mine well hidden.


    My third-floor walkup was the top floor above the Cajun Coffee and my own shop. It had a good look at downtown X, a town which had about four shops and where everyone was in everyone¡¯s business. With one street light, it wasn¡¯t the most popular destination, but I didn¡¯t want to attract attention of any sort, especially negative attention.


    Clone one, just getting off the shift at the psychic shop, watched as I paced the area in my tan khaki pants and my loose Hawaiian shirt.


    ¡°We should become a professor,¡± Clone one said,¡± We¡¯re getting complacent in our old age. How long has it been since we have taken an apprentice on?¡±


    ¡°Not since the sixties at least,¡± Clone two said, her arms folded.


    Clone two had a gorgeous afro that went both far enough and also not nearly far enough. I loved the style as she rocked it, while I kept my close-cropped hair easy and manageable. Clone one, of course, wore no no the Psychic Ada wig, designed to put people at ease and not cross over commercial image restrictions from Aunt Cleos litigious empire. A lich can¡¯t catch a break sometimes, you know?


    ¡°Lich please,¡± I said, ¡°We don¡¯t need that kind of stress.¡±


    Both clones regarded my statement as if I¡¯d pronounced mango as mangoo. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°You spend all day talking to yourself,¡± One said.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be healthy in the long run,¡± Two said.


    ¡°Fine. We will consider this. But what do you girls think about this murder case then? It¡¯s something we haven¡¯t seen¡­ well since the war, right?¡± I looked at both of them. As perfect copies of myself, they had all my memories.


    ¡°I think that this is a good reason to speak with Isis,¡± Two said.


    But just because they had my memories it didn¡¯t mean that they would do the same thing either.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that we should rush to do that,¡± I said, ¡°In time I guess we¡¯ll see each other soon anyway, especially if she¡¯s just giving my name out to any of these kids.¡±


    I winced thinking about how amateurish the Dean felt to me. I must feel the same to Isis, just a mewling baby unable to do anything. He at least was confident in how little he knew.


    ¡°So,¡± clone two said, ¡°Are we going to go and check the situation out? I know that he wants our help but¡­¡±


    ¡°I think that we have a case,¡± clone one said.


    Both turned to me, waiting for a response.


    ¡°You have a point about the whole¡­ we¡¯re getting set in our ways. I just don¡¯t know if this would be helpful at all,¡± I said, ¡°We don¡¯t need any more stress.¡±


    The other two looked at me, trying their best to appear adorable. It was a tactic I would have tried when I was a child, but now? Not so much. They both knew that I wouldn¡¯t fall for it. It was a good try either way.


    ¡°Isis might have something we want. Something we can¡¯t normally get,¡± Clone one said.


    ¡°But is that something worth leaving the house for?¡± Clone two said.


    I smiled.


    ¡°We can give it a trial,¡± I said.

 3. Isis

    The spinning lazy susan came to rest in front of the black goddess in front of me. Beyonce wished that she could sport curls like this woman, I tell what. Greg had spun the lazy susan, to move the muffin to the front of her chair and he waited for something, anything from her. A reaction perhaps?


    ¡°Will there be anything else?¡±


    I shook my head, trying to shoo him off.


    ¡°And you swear that by eating this, I am not entering into some pact with you? You give me your honest truth, tell me no lies about this,¡± Isis said.


    Greg gasped, turning and full-on sprinting to the back room. He stopped at the counter before shrinking behind the till.


    ¡°Ah. That is better. People used to respect me, but now? I can¡¯t get a straight answer,¡± she paused to drink her entire piping hot mug of coffee, then set it down with a thump, ¡°and I like it when people respect me, at least a little. Casual indifference, I can handle, but these new children?¡±


    Isis watched as he retreated farther, her calm gaze piercing her soul. Immediately she began a slow nonverbal set of incantations that warded the booth by the front window. She wore dark eye makeup around her eyes and had a steampunk hat with goggles. Underneath that she was dressed as if every day was a steampunk Halloween. I suppose that after a few centuries, one could pick their own sub-flavor of eccentricities. Her lips were blue but I was certain that that wasn¡¯t makeup. She was so dark that the coffee I had seemed to pale in comparison.


    ¡°It has been a while,¡± she said, ¡°Since I¡¯ve met another in three separate centuries.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s strange for me too! I used to think that this would be strange but, well few people know about me, and since I tend to keep to myself,¡± I said.


    ¡°Once you¡¯re immortal, you tend to push things off farther and farther. I keep saying that I need to write a book and¡­¡± she eyed the window.


    ¡°And you haven¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Oh I have written several, but they were in Aramaic, and more recently, Kenyan.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to disrespect you, but I think that we should start with business first. A man has been soul killed. Tell me about the man who died.¡±


    I didn¡¯t want any pretense that we were here to become friends. If I was going to solve a soul death, I would need to know about the victim.


    Isis sighed, looking at the red leather on the booth seating next to her. Her shadow seemed unnaturally dark in comparison with the table''s shadow.


    ¡°He was a bad man.¡± A voice said, but it wasn¡¯t hers. Female, but raspy, as though someone had been spending too much time without water.


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t a bad man,¡± Isis said, turning to her right, away from the window. She looked at the seat where her shadow was.


    A tilt of my head made her turn her attention back at me.


    ¡°Sorry, she¡¯s a handful sometimes. He was our dark arts professor. I understand that some of the students called him our defense against the dark arts teacher, there was some book that gained in popularity a few years ago. The point being, had anyone else in the faculty died under similar situations, he would have been under investigation for it.¡±


    ¡°Simply because he was a teacher of the dark arts?¡±


    Isis nodded.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a curse, but well he¡¯s been there for twenty years almost to the day, and he replaced the old professor who died in a very similar way,¡± her eyes were downcast.


    ¡°That¡¯s something that Dean Thomas should have mentioned. Professor¡­?¡±


    ¡°Professor Reginald Atkins, or Reggie. He was a sweetheart, but too young for my tastes,¡± Isis had a dreamy look in her eyes.


    ¡°It can¡¯t be easy, having everyone you care about grow old and die,¡± I said.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s something difficult. People are born, live, and die with their hands on the wheels of their destiny, but not many of us can see all of these changes, so many things I¡¯ve seen over the years.¡±


    We both shared a moment.


    ¡°What else can you tell me about Reggie? Did he have any friends? Rivals?¡±


    ¡°I think that you can quiz the faculty, but it doesn¡¯t seem like he ever ruffled feathers despite his position being what it is. I¡¯m nearly certain that it wasn''t any of the faculty, but perhaps they can point us in the right direction.¡±


    The guttural voice coughed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t trust the faculty¡­¡± the voice said.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Isis glared at the shadow.


    ¡°You can absolutely trust the faculty,¡± Isis said.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but do you have a situation here going on with your¡­ shadow?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. We have an understanding,¡± she said.


    I was skeptical of whether that was true or but I made a mental note to check my books on shadows that talked back. One of the other reasons that it might be good to get a professorship would be access to a library and other theories. Everything I learned back in Trinidad years ago, well I¡¯d used a lot of it, but the improvements I made, has really made it worthwhile to write my own grimoires, scrolls, and make my own potion recipes. True it was very expensive, but what¡¯s a Lich to do?


    ¡°I know that I wasn¡¯t going to sign anything yet but do you want to do a field trip. A field trip to the school, and perhaps the classroom he used?¡± I said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you the grand tour,¡± she said.


    Greg looked over the counter, a look of sheer terror as Isis stood up and began walking to the door.


    ¡°You¡¯re a student aren¡¯t you?¡± She said.


    ¡°Uh¡­ yes?¡±


    ¡°Have you taken my class yet? Don¡¯t answer that, I already know the answer. I¡¯ll see you when you¡¯re in your third year?¡± She said.


    A low growl from behind her reminded me that I needed to follow her. This time we crossed the street and walked two blocks down to the Sulfide County Adult Learning Annex.


    The squat one-story brick building with a large parking lot looked unused and nearly abandoned. We approached it straight down the center pathway, coming to a place with two trees about three paces apart.


    ¡°Ah, you have made a gateway, and this connection is through it?¡±


    ¡°More or less. I don¡¯t deal with the upkeep. It¡¯s usually on Dean Thomas to fix everything and coordinate on behalf of the President,¡± she said, beginning another silent incantation. I could see waves of pure magic wafting off of her as she knocked on a door, finding it ready and willing to open for her.


    Behind the portal, an ordinary-looking college campus sprawled out.


    ¡°The quatrefoil academy, I presume? And you¡¯re going to give me the grand tour? I¡¯m so lucky,¡± I said, letting my wry sardonic smile stay on my face.


    ¡°Welcome to the best school in the western hemisphere. We¡¯re not that other school, but we have our charm.¡±


    It was fall when we stepped through the portal, but in Quatrefoil, it was a deep summer.


    ¡°This is how it is, because of some problems we had in the sixties. The seasons here won''t connect back, and it¡¯s always summer. Some of the students stay around over the summer season here during the winter season outside, and we encourage some of them to stay in the house dormitories when they do so. Of course, the faculty themselves have a great setup, which you¡¯re welcome to, however since you¡¯re already a local you probably have a good thing going above the coffee shop,¡± she said.


    Isis led me to a statue of a man in the center of three great brick buildings. The fronts of the buildings showed a brick exterior, but the sides showcased murals of African, Caribbean, and American folklore. I saw one mural of Baba Yaga, and another of a Sangoma woman brewing a potion. Then I saw a painting of Harriet Tubman, one of the more recognizable Americans, and did a double-take.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that she was a witch,¡± I said, pointing to the painting of Harriet.


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t, but we respect the mundane achievements of our people as well,¡± Isis said, ¡°Did you know her?¡±


    ¡°We never met, unfortunately, but I heard the stories from the runaway slaves I had met, some of whom she had worked with¡­¡± I paused in front of the mural.


    ¡°Some women, they make our own achievements seem shallow.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s rich, coming from you,¡± I said.


    I heard a little guttural chuckle, probably coming from her shadow. It was becoming more and more apparent that Isis tuned out her shadow when it was convenient for her.


    A lone student sat in the center of the three great buildings, reading some large tome. He was tall, lanky, and looked like he needed to eat. The book was nearly half as tall as he was. He was sitting on a chair next to a three-tiered water fountain. His goatee was the one hair I spied on him, except maybe for his eyebrows.


    As we approached, he stood up.


    ¡°Professor,¡± he addressed Isis, nodding in her direction than to me, ¡°Ma¡¯am, I¡¯m Lawrence Peterson and I¡¯ll be helping you out today.¡±


    I nodded back.


    ¡°Ada,¡± I said.


    ¡°Follow me,¡± she said.


    The two of us followed her into the building on the right. Affectionately titled the Physical Arts hall, we entered a building that immediately seemed larger on the inside than on the outside.


    ¡°Remarkable,¡± I said, feeling the magic that held the building in place. It didn¡¯t have the feel of old magic, but it did the job suitably well. I would have to take notes for my own projects. More and more I was getting the feeling that they¡¯d picked the area for the school for a reason. Probably the same reason I did.


    A quick turn right led us down the hall, and the normal-looking walls went from an American hallway to a medieval dungeon. I smelled potions brewing that I¡¯d recognized but not for years.


    ¡°That¡¯s some old country potions, isn¡¯t it,¡± I asked.


    Isis flashed a smile.


    ¡°Heh heh,¡± her shadow said.


    We stopped in front of a door.


    Isis raised a hand.


    ¡°Professor Sangoma wants me to tell you that after the Professor of the Dark arts died, his classroom was sealed off, warded and a guard was placed on it. Because she sent me a message to expect her, I¡¯ve let the guard go so the two of you can go through it,¡± he said.


    I accepted his offer of undoing all of the wards gracefully.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t¡­ make him do this, did you?¡± I asked Isis while the two of us waited for him to finish.


    ¡°He is the head provost of the fourth years, and he did volunteer to make the guard roster so, no I didn¡¯t make him do this, but in effect yes.¡±


    ¡°Did you invite him into your apartment?¡± I asked, leaving the second phrase- and giving him something to eat-unsaid.


    ¡°Heavens no, they all learn that trick in the first year,¡± She replied, adjusting her top hat, ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be sporting of me to do that to a student. However, I perhaps should clean up if you ever deign to pay a visit to my place.¡±

 4. Lawrence

    The large wooden door creaked open as Lawrence completed the ward removal. I could see that it was sealed with a key, one that he was holding in his hand. Without the key, the lock would probably trigger some secondary effect that I didn¡¯t want to be around for. Then I wouldn¡¯t want to be near the ward at all.


    Behind the door, a large lecture hall loomed with floor-to-ceiling windows that were not a part of the outside structure, but the light shone through. Sconces sat lit, permanently affixed with a dab of magical power that only needed to be topped up every ten years.


    ¡°He held his last class here, he was doing a seminar for some of us that wanted to get into magical law enforcement after we were done, and, well that was the last time any of us saw him,¡± Lawrence said.


    My old bones felt the vibrant magic in this room as I searched with my soul vision for something relevant to the case.


    ¡°Hold on, hold on, there¡¯s magical law enforcement?¡± I said.


    ¡°We don¡¯t really do much with them, he was usually the one that gave the introductions. You can¡¯t just have liches running wild, present company excluded,¡± Isis said.


    ¡°Of course, just the same way that you can¡¯t have half-fae goddesses running wild,¡± I said with a wry smile.


    The layers of seating around the lecture hall centered on a central podium and a large, well the best way to describe it would be to say that someone had laid down mats there in the style of a dojo. I ran my fingers along the edge of the mat.


    ¡°He has us fight each other- with kid gloves the whole time. It was effective. I got a lot better,¡± He said, with an air of reverence.


    ¡°You liked him.¡±


    ¡°I saw him as a mentor. He, well I hadn¡¯t had many black teachers until I came to Quatrefoil¡­ and,¡± he said.


    ¡°Oh honey, it¡¯s okay. I understand,¡± I did a circuit of the mats.


    ¡°It¡¯s warded to prevent the students from killing themselves,¡± Isis said from behind me.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    I hadn¡¯t noticed her slinking up. I wasn¡¯t focused on her, but there was a knot of soul energy left.


    ¡°He made the wards here, did he?¡±


    ¡°How did you?¡±


    ¡°His signature is on it, like a stamp saying, this is the sender, only his soul¡­ I wasn¡¯t able to see it when I viewed his body,¡± I said.


    Lawrence gasped.


    ¡°Can you teach this? I¡¯ve never heard of this¡­ type of magic,¡± he said.


    ¡°If they hire me and I accept,¡± I said, moving to the all-wooden podium.


    ¡°This is from Africa,¡± Isis said running her hands over it.


    ¡°Sangoma¡­¡± her shadow whispered.


    ¡°A sangoma woman from Nigeria made it for the school, yes. She was a good friend.¡±


    It felt ancient like it almost had a soul of its own. One couldn¡¯t be too careful around old magic, especially fae magic. That was usually very peculiar.


    ¡°He spent enough time here that I can get a sense of him,¡± I said.


    I finally had a view of the soul he could¡¯ve left behind. I looked to see if either of my companions had noticed anything.


    ¡°Professor¡­ Sangoma,¡± I said, sounding it out, ¡°What is your specialty? I should have asked already, but I didn¡¯t think to.¡±


    ¡°Ah. I''ll tell you what. I will reveal that at the faculty party next week, although it will be a somber affair,¡± she said, ¡°I don¡¯t know what we¡¯re going to be doing, whether you sign up or not, but I¡¯ll leave that as a tantalizing nugget for you to glean later.¡±


    ¡°Does the professor have an office?¡± I asked.


    Lawrence pointed to a door off to the side, closer to the entrance.


    ¡°We warded it as well.¡±


    ¡°Show me then if you would,¡± I said, following his lead.


    ¡ª-


    ¡°What do the professors do during the off season? Generally?¡± I said


    ¡°I go back to mother Africa to recharge, him?¡± She gestured to the door, ¡°He told me recently that he picked up odd magical jobs over the summers.¡±


    ¡°Are these regulated?¡± I said.


    A click and a pop later and Lawrence has the door open.


    ¡°We are on the honors system. He knows that he is under heavy scrutiny in general because of his position.¡±


    Lawrence stood to the side after testing a foot inside the room.


    Well, perhaps his notes will have a clue as to who was powerful enough to kill a professional mage¡¯s soul so thoroughly.

 5. A Lich Itch

    The desk was a disheveled mess as if Reginald had been sorting through his thought process. Walls of dark leather books surrounded us.


    ¡°Are you going to be telling me that this position is cursed, perhaps? Has everyone who has taken this position died a grisly death? Perhaps after only one year of service?¡± I said, in a dry monotone.


    ¡°No, nothing of the sort. He wasn¡¯t anything like that, nor is there a curse on him,¡± Isis said.


    ¡°That¡¯s some Hogwarts type shit,¡± Lawrence said.


    Both of us were taken aback.


    ¡°Hogwarts? What is that?¡± I said.


    Lawrence was nonplussed.


    ¡°That¡¯s a magical school in a book about wizards and¡­. Have you read anything written in the past thirty years?¡± Lawrence said.


    ¡°My formal education ended in the 1840s,¡± I said. Back when magic was passed down from a master magician to one maybe two apprentices at a time, ¡°I¡¯ve picked up the newspaper from time to time to see what¡¯s going on.¡±


    My teacher gave me everything, but this was back in the days when black women were treated as lower than second class citizens. Everything was hidden and behind a codeword. It took me years to finish my apprenticeship, but it was well worth it. After I was done, I hunted down some of the biggest slavers for years until the American civil war made the nature of my work change.


    ¡°Ah. Well then maybe I can lend you my copy of Harry Potter?¡± Lawrence said,¡±There aren¡¯t a lot of black characters in it but everyone here is a big fan.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll talk after this,¡± I said, once again activating my soul sight.


    Most magical humans could learn how to protect against a necromantic or psychic attack. Few were the ones that were born with the ability to wield those innately. Soul sight was my ability to look and see places where spirits were strong, and to look at people''s souls, most usually to see if they had soul damage. Only necromancy could do soul damage, and it was very hard to heal from.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°I mean the main character could be a stand-in for the everyman, he¡¯s a normal human that just becomes a wizard and, well the Professor here, he was a big fan of it.¡±


    The young student stopped in front of a row of books. I wasn¡¯t familiar with any of them. I could kick myself for not paying attention to anything contemporary. Being a withdrawn shut-in had its advantages, one being that no one just dropped in to kill you.


    Isis gave Lawrence a tired look and her shadow hissed a little.


    ¡°The professor''s soul has left a mark here too. He spent a lot of time here. It¡¯s faint, it¡¯s been a couple of days, but he did spend some time here before¡­ before his untimely demise,¡± I said.


    I don¡¯t know if Lawrence felt it, but a chill passed through the room and I felt a dog trying to bark. I looked at Isis¡¯s shadow which was trying to get something out.


    ¡°The dean is on his way,¡± Isis announced nonchalantly,¡± he¡¯s in a rush.¡±


    A tweed jacket attached to a thin man rounded the corner and I could see him slowing down as he approached.


    Gasping, he stood there for nearly a full minute looking at both of us.


    ¡°The cops¡­ they¡¯re coming,¡± he said.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to make myself scarce,¡± Isis said with a stone face, then she brightened,¡± Tea tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll await your call,¡± I said.


    Lawrence looked like he¡¯d seen a ghost. When Isis completed her short teleportation spell, she ushered him through first. If there was one thing I¡¯d learned, it¡¯s never to talk to the police. I didn¡¯t fear any man, woman, or child but unnecessary confrontation was not my beat at all.


    ¡°I suppose it makes sense that there is a magical law enforcement and magical laws, but I doubt that they would take kindly to my sort of magic and¡­¡± I said.


    ¡°Oh, they won¡¯t care about that at all. They¡¯re just terribly incompetent and I don¡¯t want the wrong person to get blamed for this,¡± Dean Thomas said.


    ¡°How wonderfully prescient of you, Dean. I don''t make a habit of getting blamed for much and as one of my clones could easily take the fall for me, and then spend a week in prison before withering away into a false death¡­ well I don¡¯t feel like I have a lot to fear,¡± I said.


    He straightened his glasses, fixing his bow tie in a mirror I hadn¡¯t noticed until now.


    ¡°Well, I expect that they will have a lot of questions for you. It¡¯s not too late to back out now, but the job is yours if you want it,¡± he said.


    He knew I had the right stuff. He wanted me more than I needed this, but being here, it was scratching an itch that I felt long had been dormant.