Chapter Four
The front door of the Owl House jingled with a bell as Hunter stepped in, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket he'd donned over his school uniform along with a pair of shades. He lowered the shades and glanced around to find the storefront deserted. He took off the sunglasses and made for the door marked "Employees Only," stopping beside it and listening carefully.
He heard Willow, her younger friend from Hexside who had tried to defend her from Bump, and another girl their age talking to an older woman and … someone he couldn't identify. Maybe a kid between childhood and teen age? They were discussing the events of the day, and then …
"Yeah, your dads found me after you all were brought here," the Owl Lady said. "I stumbled on them and you when you were tiny, brought them here and gave them all of your concealment stones. We keep in touch every now and then, but I asked them not to tell you until you were older." She snorted a laugh. "I guess you're old enough now."
So that meant the Owl Lady — a figure well known to most of Gravesfield for her various semi-legal hijinx over the years — was not only aware of magic, but of witches in particular. Which meant she no doubt had some knowledge of the Boiling Isles …
"So how did you get here, Luz?" the boy asked. "I mean, Willow doesn't know how she got here, but maybe you do?"
"I really don't want to talk about it yet, Gus," Luz — probably the other witchling, the one that had left behind burned and melted automatons that were certainly not Willow's handiwork — said. "But I will say that there's no way I came through the same way as Willow or her dads. Trust me, they'd definitely remember if they had."
"I'm sorry you're stranded, Luz," Willow said.
"Nah, it's fine. I mean, don't get me wrong, I want to go back. My mom's back on the Isles and I can't leave her behind. But I've always wanted to see what the human realm was like, and so far it hasn't disappointed."
"Sweet!" Gus said. "Nice to know we measure up."
"Well, anyway, I've gotta get home," Willow said. "My dads will be worried if I'm out too late."
With that, Hunter stepped back around the counter and tried to look busy checking out the wares, which he had to admit were actually interesting. Given the Owl Lady's apparent knowledge of the supernatural, he couldn't help but wonder how many might have actual magic.
He turned at the sound of the backroom's door opening as if he hadn't been listening before, and Willow stopped in her tracks at the sight of him. Her cheeks pinked in a way that he couldn't help but find … kind of adorable. "Hey," he said, unsure what else to say.
"You're still here?" Willow asked.
"Yeah, I wasn't sure if you wanted a lift home."
Willow blinked and gave a very small smile. "Thanks," she said.
"What about your friend, the younger boy?" Hunter asked.
"I'm staying until my dad picks me up," Gus said as he followed Willow through the door, followed in turn by Luz — her ears noticeably round, like Willow's appeared to be — and the Owl Lady.
"Care to buy anything?" Luz asked brightly, and Hunter noticed the Owl Lady shoot her a proud look.
"Maybe another day," Hunter said with the practiced smile he used for high-society events. "Ms. Park, shall we?"
He headed for the door and casually saluted to the Owl Lady, Luz, and Gus before he held the door open for Willow to move past him. He opened the door to the town car and let her in first before requesting his driver to head back to Willow's townhouse.
"You okay?" he asked quietly after a few minutes.
"Hmm?" Willow hummed, seemingly drawn from her thoughts. "Oh! I'm fine," she smiled, but it was a tense little thing. Hunter looked forward at the driver before lowering his voice even further, leaning in to whisper into her ear.
"That was you who conjured the vines, wasn't it?" he asked. Willow looked at him and nodded with a blush. "Look, I don't know much about magic," he admitted, "but there's no way that wasn't impressive." He smirked a bit. "You should be proud." Willow couldn't help but look at him in surprise with those wide, green eyes … and Hunter couldn't take his eyes from them. Their impromptu staring contest was broken by the car stopping in front of Willow's building.
"Thank you, Hunter," she said quietly. "For protecting me back at the school."
"You're, uh, welcome," he said, opening the door to let her out. Willow took her bag and started for her building, spinning on her heel halfway there to offer a small, shy wave. Hunter waved back and she entered her home with something like a spring in her step.
"Home, sir?" his driver asked.
"Yes. Thank you, Virgil," Hunter said. As the car pulled away, Hunter fished his phone out of his jacket and dialed his uncle's number. "Hey, Uncle Philip," he said. "Yeah, I'm on my way now. Yeah, I had people in the car. I wouldn't call them 'friends'; they just needed a lift. Uh, hey, listen … Are there any scholarship spots still open?"
"I can't believe you, Willow!" Harvey cried out, visibly more worried than angry.
Willow winced, her arms crossed over her belly as she grappled with guilt piling in her gut like a stomach ache. "Dad-"
"You used magic in public!" Harvey stressed, gesturing frantically with his hands. "Willow, what was the first thing we told you from the day we started teaching you magic after we came here?"
"To never overextend myself," Willow said matter-of-factly.
Harvey faltered and blinked before rubbing his forehead. "After that," he sighed.
"To never use magic around humans," Willow replied despondently.
"And you have broken that rule twice in less than a week," Harvey emphasized again.
"Harv," Gilbert interrupted, "I'd say saving a life was worth the risk."
"I'm not saying what she did was wrong," Harvey amended, "but it was dangerous to us." His expression twisted with fear, his skin turning ashen. "Imagine what this country's government would do to us if we were found out. They'd lock us up and experiment on us! Not to mention any shady businesses that found us!"
"We've been watching too many sci-fi movies," Gilbert whispered to Willow, who stifled a nervous giggle behind her hand.
Before Harvey could continue his lengthy scolding, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," Willow said with faint relief in her voice. She opened the door to find a young man dressed as a courier, a clipboard in hand, a satchel at his hip … and the logo of Empire Enterprises clear on his left breast. "Ms. Willow Park?" the young man asked.
"Yes?" she asked. He flashed an easy smile and offered her the clipboard with an attached pen. "Sign here, please." Willow did and handed him back the clipboard, which he traded in his satchel for a large folder envelope that he headed to her. "Have a nice evening," he said cordially before departing with no fanfare.
Willow closed the door and examined the large envelope, also printed with the corporation logo. She looked up to her dads before opening it and sliding out a sheaf of papers and a smaller, letter-sized envelope that said Open me first, Ms. Park. She unsealed the letter and opened it.
Dear Ms. Park,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as the beneficiary of Empire Enterprise's "Philip Wittebane the First" scholarship to Westside School for the Gifted and Talented. The scholarship will fully cover costs and fees of your education for the remainder of your time at the school, so long as the required standard of a 3.0 Grade Point Average is met.
Given the lateness of the scholarship, the board of trustees has contacted Westside's administration department and recorded the expenditures for the current school year. A reimbursement check has been included to rectify this oversight.
Note: The scholarship board has been informed of your recent change of academic track, and so will disregard previous grade standards in favor of the transferred track, though aforementioned requirements will apply from this date onward.
All the best of luck in the world,
Philip Wittebane the Second.
Willow stared in shock when she had finished the letter, the larger envelope dropping from her frozen fingers. "Willow?" Gilbert asked carefully, and Harvey was right beside him with identical concern written on his features. Willow's puzzled frown bloomed into a winning, joyous smile and she handed the letter to her papa to read as she scooped up the larger envelope and opened it to remove a stack of documents she only partly understood.
"Oh my," Gilbert whispered. "This can't be real." He held out a hand for the documents in Willow's hands that she passed along eagerly as Harvey took his turn with the letter.
"Titan's Bones," Harvey said. He looked up to find Gilbert showing a check, its front hidden from Willow's view. But considering where she went to school, she had no doubt that it was in the five-digit range. Harvey laughed and drew his husband and daughter into an overjoyed hug, actually hopping in place.
"Willow," Gilbert said shakily as Harvey continued to dance in place as he laughed, "we expect you to keep up your studies in the botany track." He smiled as his eyes twinkled behind his glasses. "Can you do that?"
"Yes, Papa," she said, her eyes glistening with happiness.
"Then go get some rest," he said, kissing her temple. "You have your first day of your new classes tomorrow."
"Right," she affirmed. "Good night, Papa," she said as she hugged him. "Good night, Dad."
"Good night, my dear," Harvey said, wrapping his daughter up in a hug as tears flowed from his eyes. "We love you."
"I love you both, too," she said before turning and heading to her room. As she closed the door and began switching to her sleepwear, Willow's cheeks pinked. There was only one way she could think that this scholarship would have come at all, much less weeks after the start of term.
Hunter had no doubt pulled some strings … and it made her heart flutter.
The basilisk hissed in vexation. He'd tried every avenue of escape he could think of, from shapeshifting in to a rodent to enter the barred ventilation grates to transforming into a human to try and trick the jailor — eventually even resorting to slamming the walls with his balled fists and tail to see if they would give way — to no avail but the severe depletion of his reserves of magic.
As he curled around himself to try and get some fitful rest, his thoughts turned once again to how he had ended up here in this new cell — while doggedly refusing to recall how he had ended up in this new realm.
Those … events had left the serpentine demon in a weakened haze. His belly had been empty and his reserves diminished, and he'd been nearly blinded by fatigue and general discomfort. It had been all he could do not to consume one of the local creatures. Humans, he believed they were called.
He had lain curled into a defensive coil for hours, praying to the Titan for deliverance, when he'd caught a miraculous scent. The scent of magic. He still had no idea how he had been so lucky, but at the time he'd been too near-delirious to think. He'd attacked a human boy and his guards, the boy bearing a pendant he'd smelled magic on, keeping just enough higher thought to attempt to barter first.
Then the witchling had appeared from nowhere. He'd been surprised — shocked, even — until he'd realized that this child was a walking trove of refined magic! The attacks she'd thrust at him had been sloppy, even as they'd caught him by surprise. But that had passed as the scent of pure magic had invaded his nostrils and driven him to feed with hardly a thought.
The basilisk growled at himself as he recalled that memory … and the memory of another of his kind in a cell, the closest thing he had to a little sister. Number Five. The little sister that he knew would be ashamed of him for succumbing to his baser self, to his hunger.
He'd had just enough wherewithal to warn the girl that the feeding would be unpleasant, to try and assure her that she would live, when the human boy had attacked him with some human weapon that had stunned and paralyzed him before he passed out. It had not been magic, but it had certainly done the job. And he'd woken up in this place, this beautiful prison cell.
The basilisk's recollections were halted by a strange sound, like a bird's chirp. A section of the wall glowed and formed into the image of a human with fair skin and dark hair, dressed differently than the humans he'd seen and more in line with the Boiling Isles, appeared.
"Greetings, Sir Basilisk," the human said cheerfully. "How are you feeling today?"
"Trapped," the basilisk snarled with his deep voice.
"Ah, yes," the human said with a nervous chuckle. "I suppose that makes sense." He cleared his throat and resumed his smile. "If you please, Sir Basilisk, I would like to make you an offer of sorts."
"Not interested," he snapped. "Leave me in peace."
The human did not seem angered by his response, or even all that surprised. "You don't trust me," he surmised. "Understandable, really. I suppose I would be concerned if you didn't distrust me." His smile faded into a neutral line. "I wish you to know that the boy you assaulted was my dear nephew." He lifted an eyebrow. "And even so, I have done you little enough harm and even strived to keep you comfortable." He sighed. "I only ask that you consider extending a bit of trust." With that, the image disappeared.
The basilisk glared at the wall where the image had been. And try as he might, the human's words began to seep into his thoughts.
Gus smiled as he typed away at his computer, polishing his next article for the Westside Free Press. He'd been asked to interview someone who was interesting, accomplished, and noteworthy, and he'd chosen Eda Hawthorne, the infamous Owl Lady. After Willow had been escorted home by Hunter Wittebane, Gus had come to the crashing realization that he'd needed to finish his piece or else be put on suspension from the paper. So while he was sure his article would be good, it was also a last-resort kind of deal.
But he'd make it work. He always did.
As he finished transcribing part of their conversation, Gus's phone chirped as he got a text message. He glanced at the time to find it later than he usually went to bed before shrugging and checking it out. It was from Willow:
Got mail by courier. I got a grant for a full ride to Westside! Gotta remember thank Hunter XD!
Gus gaped at the message before grinning wildly and sending a quick congratulations and promise to talk tomorrow. As he put down his phone, he couldn't help but continue to smile at his friend's good fortune. Whether one meant getting the grant or making such a good impression on a well-connected rich boy that the strings were pulled by.
Gus's dad was a news anchor for a major semi-local station and had been for years, so he pulled in a hefty salary that left enough to send Gus to Westside without undue financial stress. In the few years since he'd met Willow and she'd become essentially his first and only friend, Gus had felt bad that her dads had to work so hard to send her to school, even more after finding out they were all witches in a foreign and often confusing land.
But with this grant, and her transfer to the academic track she loved, Willow's school career was essentially set! She'd be doing what she loved to do, which meant no more hated engineering work, which probably meant her self-image would improve. And Gus had to smile at that.
Not to mention they'd met another witch today, Luz. Gus could only imagine what it must be like to be the only one of your kind in a whole dimension except for your parents. But now that Luz was here, Willow could connect with someone like her. And Gus could learn more about the Boiling Isles as an added bonus.
As Gus popped his neck and began to finish up his article, he was happy to reflect that everything seemed to be coming up good lately.
"…The Snaggleback begins its life as a small creature, seemingly innocuous among demonkind. Bearing a smilian physiology aside from its round, spiked shell, it spends a decade scrounging for food and avoiding larger predators.
But come the turn of its first decade, the Snaggleback explodes in size and ferocity to emerge as one of the most feared demons to walk the Isles. With the unique capacity to resist the boiling rains, it roams the rains to find disadvantaged prey to feed upon. Woe to all who meet the full-grown Snaggleback."
"So why not kill it before it metamorphoses?" Hunter asked aloud. A cold query, he knew, but logical. Was it possible that the natives of the Boiling Isles were so unread that they didn't realize the small creatures would become such a threat? Or did they know and simply not care until it was too late?
Hunter shrugged and turned the page of his book to an entry on the Slitherbeast, a beast-type demon that dwelled in the icy heights of a place called the "Knee." He raised his eyebrows at the sight of its howl, noting that its eyes seemed to be placed on its upper gums. Man, demons were weird.
Hunter rubbed his eyes and carefully closed the leatherbound book titled "Bestiary of the Boiling Isles." He'd found it in his uncle's private collection one day a few years back and, intrigued by the title so similar to the place his uncle told him stories of when he was a kid, surreptitiously took it to read. He'd meant to give it back when he was done … but then he'd found himself rereading it over and over, and his uncle had never asked. So now Hunter kept it.
As Hunter reopened the old book and turned to the section on fairies, a bug-type demon that was similar to pixies but somewhat larger and sapient with a taste for skin, his thoughts turned to Willow and when she had fought that demon last week to try and save him. He was reluctant to actually term the event "saving" him, as he was honestly certain he could have overcome the creature on his own. Or at least mostly certain. But she had tried, and that's what stuck with him.
Hunter looked across his bedroom of undecorated bricks and concrete floors covered in rugs — most of the floor and furniture covered in books and scrolls — and over to his closet as another thought arose from the depths of his subconscious. He closed the book again and searched through his closet until he removed several boxes that he spread out over the floor. He opened one to reveal … comic books.
Hunter didn't bring it up, but he had been an avid comics fan as a kid. The idea of superhumans had fascinated him, bolstered by his uncle's tales of witches, monsters, and the Boiling Isles. He dug through the thin volumes until he found a few depicting female heroes. He grimaced at the exaggerated feminine proportions and instead focused on the characters, flipping through a few books to find good action scenes.
After a few moments, he replaced the books in the boxes and the boxes in his closet before returning to his desk and taking his sketchbook to turn to a fresh page.
Hunter drew with every ounce of care he would use in his architecture assignments as he sketched something he never in his life thought he would: clothes. He drew based on practicality rather than being flashy, though he did put in a few stylistic touches. It took several torn and crumpled attempts, but eventually he settled on something that looked functional as well as not terrible to look at.
Unlike his uncle, fashion was not his forte.
After scanning the image with his in-room printer and saving it to his computer, he stored the master sketch and printed out several copies to try and add color. He focused on different shades of green before deciding it was too bland and trying again with mixing green and yellow. He put that one aside unfinished and tried again, keeping to the green and yellow motif while adding accents of silver.
Soon enough, Hunter was somewhat satisfied with his basic design and smoothed over a sketch of Willow Park in his theoretical uniform. He nodded at the girl's correct proportions, ever the stickler for detail. He tapped his lips in consideration before slipping the sketch into his satchel for school. He glanced at his clock and noted that it was three in the morning, about his usual time to try and sleep.
Freaking insomnia.
He yawned and prepared for bed, but his thoughts remained occupied by the insane idea that had spurred his sketching and perusing his childhood comics. It was rough and probably impractical … but a feeling in his gut and a whisper in the back of his mind told him that it may be necessary very soon.
As she settled into his bed and tried to get comfortable, he thought about the keystone of this scheme of his, one that he would have to be honest with if it came down to making the half-formed plan a reality.
Willow.
Chapter four, everybody. A follow-up to the last, and one with elements I am all to happy to reveal.
*It was fun worldbuilding on the Snaggleback.
*Yes, I think Hunter would like the concept of superheroes even in canon. I can imagine he would especially like the ones who gained their powers through training or accidents - identifying with them via his powerless state just as we nerds do.
*Hunter's opinion on superheroine "proportions" reflect my own. One of the few things I don't care for in comics.
Hope you all liked it! As always, leave a review. The next one is a doozy! And as always, carry on you delightful weirdos!
