Circe sat back in her surprisingly comfy steel chair as she meditated on Morgan's story. To be clear, the girls were not friends. They were, in fact, the opposite of friends, so Circe had no reason to believe anything Morgan had to say. But Circe was sure that Morgan was telling the truth this time. Why? Because of the little critter sitting on Morgan's head.
The one-eyed mouse with bat wings had been with Morgan the entire time she told her story. Actually, the freaky mouse had been her constant companion for many years. She never noticed it, but Circe definitely did. A little, discreet exertion of will from Circe compelled the tiny creature to confirm whether or not any parts of the platinum blonde's tale was false. It only nodded along to Morgan's words, never shaking its head once. Pretty much everything Morgan had said was as it played out.
Still, not everything had been explained.
"I still have some questions," said Circe. "One, if your goal was to get me to fix your boyfriend, why'd you just try to kill me? And two, why garlic?"
"I wasn't REALLY trying to kill you," Morgan said.
"You literally screamed at me to die before tackling me to the ground."
Morgan defended herself with, "It was just to scare you. You know, a bluff to get you to think I meant business, so you'd do what I want."
"Okay, I buy that," said Circe, though not really meaning it. "And the garlic?"
"Garlic is the number one weapon against witches," Morgan explained. "They're like Kryptonite to witches." She gave Circe a puzzled look. "You're a witch. How can you not know that?"
"Just where the hell did you hear THAT from?" Circe asked.
In response, Morgan pulled out her smartphone, scrolled down a little bit before she found the bookmarked link and punched it with her thumb before handing the mobile device over to Circe. Circe took a look at the webpage on the screen while taking a casual sip of coffee, and then nearly spat it all out.
At first glance, it looked like a common enough web blog about all things related to magic with a purple background with tiny golden stars forming a border around the white text. The specific article being shown was about witches according to the big, bold headline. But Circe recognized the blog's author with a glance. Handler BatmantheWizardVersion2006 was Jackie. He had always been fascinated by all things magical and the legends behind them, and created the blog as a place to compile everything he learned to share with the world. But this particular article was . . .
"The whole thing's a joke," Circe said as she handed back the phone. "Everything in that blog post's garbage."
"What? Really?" Morgan exclaimed in dismay. "But BatmantheWizardVersion2006 was so convincing. The name's dumb though."
"Yes, really," said Circe. "It was posted in April First. You know, April Fool's Day?"
Morgan looked at the phone's screen and went, "Huh. So it is. How'd I miss that?"
"It's a mystery," Circe said as she rolled her eyes. She took another sip of coffee and then sank further down her chair, with her arms crossed. What to do now? She wondered.
Although she learned many new things from her time as a member of the Gathering, she could hardly call herself an expert in all things fantastical. Hell, even with all her experience with invisible monsters and magic powers, this was the first time she's ever heard of someone transforming into a werewolf in real life before. She felt sorry for Roger, for lots of reasons, but there was nothing she could do to help him. Not to mention there was something fishy about Morgan's story, though Circe could not pinpoint just what yet.
Still, she couldn't just do nothing at all now that she knew about the problem. Jackie certainly wouldn't, which was exactly why the problem needed to be solved right away. If Jackie ever caught wind of what's happened to Roger Nettles, he'll stick his nose in to help, no matter what dangers he'd end up running into. His past actions going up against the Gathering proved that to be more than possible.
Then Circe got an idea and she straightened up.
"Okay, here's how it's going to go," she said.
Morgan also straightened up and nodded attentively.
"I don't know how to cure Roger," Circe told her bully bluntly. "I didn't even know werewolves were thing before today."
Morgan was not happy to hear that. "What? Then what good are you?"
Circe had to stop herself from telling Morgan that she could always go find help elsewhere, mostly out of fear that she would take that advice and go to Jackie instead. "Let me finish. I don't know anything about werewolves or how to cure them, but I do know someone who might."
"Really? Who?" asked Morgan.
**********
Next to the great big arch that served as the entrance into Chinatown stood the famous home of the district's undisputed queen, Granny Tsing. It was a tall building with three floors. The upper two floors served as her private living quarters and could be accessed through stairs at the side of the building that, which were guarded by an iron-bar gate painted red. On the bottom floor was a knickknacks shop.
Normally the doors to the shop would be flung open, covered from top to bottom with hook racks that displayed calendars, posters, shiny gold decorations and even some Asian snacks in red wrappings. There would also be tables keeping the doors wedged against the outer walls and covered with some of the shop's heavier wares for passerby to take a gander at. But with the weather being what it is, Daisy, the shop's owner, decided to keep them closed so the winter chill would stay out. It was unlikely the shop would see anyone this time of year anyway.
But Daisy wasn't worried about the lack of visitors. Far from it. The shop served more like a base of operations than a place to buy things. Most of the actual business was done online.
The clock chimed at late afternoon as she sat comfortably behind the cashier counter, curled up on a big, leather office chair while wrapped in a wool shawl with a steaming mug of tea in one hand. Her other hand gently gripped the black mouse with the pointer finger stroking the rubber wheel to scroll down the order list on the computer monitor her eyes were glued to. The display was turned yellow to reduce strain. Meanwhile, her right ear was focused on the back room, listening to the sounds of television as her little daughter watched a cartoon.
All in all, it was peaceful and quiet in the shop. That is, until Daisy heard a rattle from the front door. Slightly peeved at the disturbance, she looked up from the computer to see two teenage girls storming into the shop. Daisy was quick to recognize Circe, her landlady's great-niece and was surprised to see her accompanied by an unfamiliar face. In the years the shopkeeper knew Circe, never once did the girl appear with any friends other than Jackie Li.
Something's wrong, Daisy's sixth sense told her. She was overcome with dread, something she hadn't experienced in a long time. The last time, she recalled, happened around the time Circe disappeared. Whatever business the girls had with her . . .
"Oh, I'm not going to like this," Daisy muttered to herself.
Circe approached the counter and blinked. "Sorry?"
"It's nothing," Daisy said quickly. "Anyway, who's your friend?"
A brief introduction later . . .
Hiding wariness behind a friendly business smile, Daisy greeted Circe's "acquaintance" from school. "It's nice to meet you, Morgan. So, what can I do for you two?"
"Morgan here," Circe said to the shopkeeper while Morgan flashed a masking smile of her own, "has a bit of a problem that I thought you could help with. It's something that . . . " Circe paused to find the right words. " . . . has to do with your old job."
Yep, knew it, Daisy thought glumly. I knew I wasn't going to like it.
Daisy's "old job", as Circe put it, was not something that could be called normal. Many people would call it downright fantasy.
"What exactly is this old job?" Morgan asked. "Are you a witch too or something?"
Daisy blinked. "A witch too?" She threw Circe a hard stare, but the landlady's great-niece just gave a shrug back. Just what sort of mess did the young girl get mixed up in this time?
"Sure," the shopkeeper replied to Morgan. "It's not exactly the kind of word we'd use where I come from, but I suppose you could call me that."
Before becoming a mother and a store owner, Daisy used to be a member of a group of sorcerers based in China. Being a sorceress herself, she knew a thing or two about magic. But having magic powers turned out not to be all that great. Her job as a sorceress had her dealing with all sorts of things that she wished she could forget about. Very quickly since starting, the work became too much for her and she quit.
Although Daisy wanted to take this secret to her grave, Jackie somehow uncovered it after meeting with a member of her old group during his quest to find Circe when she went missing. Needless to say, he shared the secret with Circe, which wasn't a surprise to Daisy, but still left her cross, thinking he should've at least talk to her about it first before blabbing to whoever he felt like.
Until now, though, Circe never brought it up. An unspoken agreement had formed between them never to bring up the past. But that agreement had finally come to an end.
"So what's this problem you got?" Daisy harshly asked Morgan. She was no longer in the mood to be civil and dropped any sense of politeness. She unfurled herself, leaned back in her chair and kicked up her feet onto the table. Her feet were bare.
Morgan was a bit taken aback by this shift in attitude, but she quickly recovered, thinking such weirdness should be expected of witches, and repeated the story she told Circe. Daisy listened quietly from start to finish, arms folded and frowning the whole time.
"Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully, when Morgan was done. "Sounds to me like a case of a surprise Shifter."
Circe and Morgan tilted their heads, bemused. "Shifters?"
"Ah, right, sorry," went Daisy. "Of course neither of you would know. Shifters are what people in the magic business call werewolves, vampires and the like."
In surprise, Circe exclaimed, "Wait, so vampires are real too?"
"Well, yeah," said Daisy. "If werewolves are real, then so are vampires. And elves and goblins, and so on."
Morgan nodded as if she understood. "Makes sense."
Circe doubted if she really meant it.
"Basically anyone with the power to transform between human and non-human is a Shifter," Daisy continued. "They're the inspiration behind every monster story, every fairy tale legend, ever told in the history of mankind, with, of course, the stories about werewolves and vampires being good examples."
"Does this mean that leprechauns are real too?" Morgan asked.
Daisy sighed and exasperatedly replied, "Yes, leprechauns are real too. Though there aren't a lot of them left, last I heard."
"Then does that mean there's a chance I can find a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow?"
To Morgan's disappointment, Daisy said, "No. That part's pure myth."
"Getting back on track," Circe cut in, "you mentioned something about a 'surprise Shifter'. What did you mean by that? Does it have something to do with Roger becoming a werewolf?"
Daisy answered, "I can't say for sure how that happened without knowing about his family history. But most Shifters these days are either sorcerers who turned themselves inhuman, victims mutated by a sorcerer's curse or the descendants of either of the first two. Going off of your story, chances are Roger falls under the last category. He's got Shifter ancestors, the werewolf kind, but never knew about them. It's not the first time there's been Shifters who spontaneously transformed without knowing what they actually are."
"So does this mean we can rule out foul play?" Circe asked.
She was relieved to see Daisy nod, yes to her question. What Circe was most afraid of was the chance that another wizard like Donald Putts was running around causing trouble. But there's no need to fear that if what happened to Roger was just a freak accident.
Morgan, on the other hand, had a hard time following what Daisy was talking about. Frankly, she didn't care about any of that. There was just one thing she cared about, and that was -
"Is there a way to cure Roger or not?"
Daisy studied Morgan's face and then looked away.
Not good, thought Morgan. She braced herself for some bad news.
Looking Morgan straight in the eye, Daisy answered, "Sorry, but there is no cure."
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