The dusty, slight mildew smell of old books did not disguise the scent of magic. My magic. My father and I had scattered numerous Fae relics, jars, blades, and golden filigree boxes in the display case underneath the cashier counter to mitigate the smell of magic that surrounded him. I was sensitive to its powerful scent but could never share the experience of it with him.

Fae magic overpowered witch magic tenfold and its characteristics followed suit. At first, my father was skeptical of the plan. The objects didn’t hold the astonishing power they were created with that well and some of them were centuries old. But together, their sweet, earthen odor permeated the labyrinthian bookstore masking all other spells. The relics had kept us safe thus far. It was the best defense against the daily terror of being discovered. My father, ever the worrier, was not fully convinced of his safety but had to trust me blindly.

Every other surface in the narrow space held books. Teetering piles of books were stacked on the two other available chairs flanking the counter. The shelves reached to the ceiling and were filled to capacity and the overflow spread to the floor. My father, Abe Streckheim, lorded over the most extensive magic library on the entire west coast. He’d always been fascinated by esoteric subjects like magic and folklore and gathered every book he could find on the subjects when his only daughter turned out to be a shape-shifting witch. That would be me, Regina.

I purred and rubbed against his hand for a rub. My favorite form was an older, black cat which fit perfectly with Abe’s bookstore. What bookstore didn’t have a resident cat? And it kept him safe as my father was unfortunately only human.

My father patted me absently as he slumped over the LA Times and the latest article on the internment camps our new governor had set up several months ago in San Bernardino.

“They aren’t reporting on how many survived?” His voice cracked. We both knew the answer to that. He closed the paper and rubbed his face with his hands. “Dixon won’t abandon his plan until he’s wiped us all out.”

I licked his hand and head-butted his palm. I heard his despair but I couldn’t take the chance of shifting into my human form and did the best I could in comforting him. My stomach twisted in a knot as I heard the first sniffle. I had never seen my father cry once until the Awakening two years ago.

When President Dixon put his plans into action, and the magical folk and supernatural creatures came out of the shadows, my father worried. Then the disappearances started and he broke. He’d seen this shamefulness before in the old country and understood the destruction that was coming.  And then it came. I used whatever stores of magic I had to keep him cloaked. Most of my days I spent as a cat. It took the least energy. Keeping a spell around him all day took every ounce of energy I had.

A loud laugh from just outside the store broke through my reverie. My father straightened up and put on his dusty librarian face. He kept a pair of fake glasses in the drawer for customers and he hastily put them on. Three UCLA students gathered at the Fae relic display I had put in the window the night before. I had hoped it would net us some customers but when I saw who it was, my stomach clenched and I crouched down, ears back. The animal instinct took over.

Damian Caruso, the son of the mage who took over ruling Los Angeles just a month ago, stood outside my father’s shop with two of his friends. I sighed and let my feline limbs grow limp. This was the real deal and not a test run. They had to believe I was just an old, raggedy black bookstore cat. His short round friend nodded at the door and Damian nodded. The bell tinkled as the door opened and the mage-in-training that was rumored to have more raw power then Dixon himself entered my father’s shop. My father’s pallor shifted to chalky gray as he realized who was in his shop. I concentrated on the cloaking spell and made sure he was fully covered. My magic tightened around him with a slight buzzing sound. My father heard it and started to cough.

“Are you alright?” the short, round friend asked.

“I’m quite fine. I’m allergic to cats but can’t help but keep old Spitzer around,” he said and patted me on the back. I hadn’t noticed that my fur had mohawked and my back arched. His gentle pressure brought me back to my senses. I flopped down again.

Damian eyed me until the taller guy jabbed him in the ribs. “Check these relics out,” he gestured to the two small caskets between the dagger and the wand.

“He’s a scrawny looking thing, isn’t he?” the round friend nodded at me.

“He is.” My dad’s voice was reasonable and kind. I had no idea how he could control himself as well as he did. His powerlessness against such powerful magic terrified me. I felt my fur rise again and sank deeper into the wood.

“How long have you been open?” Damian’s question came out as an accusation. I held my breath as my father struggled to answer him.

A smile broke through my father’s fear. “It’s been in my family for years. We mostly do spell books but we have some Fae paraphernalia as well. These little trinkets and caskets were brought over from the old world.”

I was so concentrated on my father I didn’t notice the taller boy’s glittering eyes on me. “That’s an odd looking cat. You don’t see many pitch black cats like that around. It’s not a witch, is it?” He said and they all laughed at his stupid joke.

It wasn’t even a joke. More like a veiled threat to see what my father would do. Against every instinct, I head-butted his hand for a rub. He complied by scratching behind my ears. His touch repulsed me but this was life-and-death after all.

I ignored my loathing and purred. And then purred some more as he kept up the scratching. I had to give it to him, he knew how to give a good scratch.

“What kind of magic is that?” Damian sniffed at the air.

“I’m a hedge witch. Or a warlock if you want to use that term. I use nature to cast my spells. Could I interest you in a love spell?” My dad said and smiled sweetly at the guy.

Good one dad, I thought. He was not a stylish mage and his skin was sallow. Damian was not a looker and he knew it. He was probably one of those guys that before the magic awakened would have been sitting in a basement playing video games and harassing women online. But this was a changed world. Magic was power and Damian had it in spades. It was nice to hear my dad be brave and put the man in his place. Stupid but brave.

Damian turned away without a word. His stiffening back worried me. Apparently, it was concerning to his friends as well.

The round guy turned to the tall guy. “We gotta get back, Chad.” He nodded at Damian’s back. “What were you looking for again?”

Chad headed down the closest stack, round guy following. The round guy turned to Damian.

“You coming, Damian?” he asked in a small voice. Damian grunted and turned back towards us.

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

I felt the shift in his magic, a ripple of blackness spreading out from his person. This was not good.

***

“What are these?” Damian asked, pointing at the Fae caskets.

“The dealer said they were Hope caskets. He dug them up from some magical Fae field in Ireland. Just outside of Dublin. Each one is a separate spell.” My dad explained. Would he really take the bait?

“Fae magic you say?” Damian closed his eyes and his lips pursed. He was testing their power. Of course, he would be interested in Fae magic, I thought sourly. Power-hungry asshole. His eyes fluttered open and his pupils went back to their original size. “That’s powerful,” he breathed. My father nodded.

“Damian, you gotta come and check these books out,” Chad, the tall guy, exclaimed, holding two leather-bound books. Damian tore himself away from the Fae casket and joined his friends. I knew exactly what books they’d found. By the look of the bindings, they were the Black magic manuals.

My father hated keeping those books in his store but it was another ploy to not draw undue attention. An inspector came every month to check our inventory. He made it a point to give us better marks for our range.

Apparently white magic was out of fashion to our overlords.  My father played their game and bartered in both the dark arts and the white arts. It was a small price to pay to keep hidden in plain sight. He isolated himself from all of his book friends in case anyone called him out for what he really was. It wouldn’t do the resistance much if the authorities found out what we were really doing.

“I want them,” Chad said. The round one pulled one of the books out of Chad’s grasp. I could tell by his mannerisms he was the inferior one.

“I want them too. Why don’t you get that one and I get this one and we’ll trade once we’re through with them.” Chad eyed the book in the round guy’s hand and ignored his suggestion.

“I want them both.” He said it so quietly that I had to strain to hear.

“Why can’t you share?” Damian asked, his attention still on the Fae relics.

Small spurts of power erupted between the two friends. Neither of them had much control over their magic yet. Somehow that didn’t surprise me.

“I’ll get them and you both can come to me to borrow them,” Damian said. They both smiled although neither of the smiles reached their eyes. “I think that’s fair. I can’t have my two best friends in a fight.” Damian’s smile was genuine. By the look on their faces, I knew they’d abandon the books.

The other two’s anger at each other dissipated and everyone was chummy again. Of course, Damian was uninterested in the books but his friends were powerless as far as he was concerned. Whatever power the books had, he most likely had access to it already. His father was the mage of Los Angeles and, as Los Angeles was one of the bigger cities population-wise, he was counted as one of the top four respected mages in the states. President Dixon, a powerful sorcerer who held a stranglehold over his mages, had to be confused about Damian’s power. Or, he was counting on the loyalty of Damian’s father to keep him submissive.

Many in the resistance were amazed Dixon allowed Damian to keep breathing. The rumor was that Damian’s power startled even the most impressive of sorcerers and had the assassination attempts to prove it.

The tone of the friends’ conversation took a turn towards open hostility. As threatening as that was, the sound of my father’s gritting teeth terrified me more. His anxiety was palpable and he was moments away from being outed as the inferior human being he was.

He shot me a look and I scratched the counter in response. He nodded. We had to get them out of here.

***

“I’ll give you those books for a hundred dollars even. Other bookstores would charge you a cool grand if they even had such a set in stock. Which, of course, they wouldn’t since this is a one of a kind.” My dad worked the sale hard.

“Why are you being so generous?” Damian asked, eyeing my father suspiciously.

“You’re all students, right? When I was a student, I was on a strict budget and wished I could get some breaks. I’m just helping shape our future in my small way.” My Dad’s tone hit the right notes. Damian bought the explanation and smiled.

“Thank you. You’re the kind of person we need on our side,” Chad added and placed the set on the counter. “How about I give you eighty though.” His smile reminded me of a shark. My father took it in stride.

“Eighty it is. Do you want them wrapped?” Dad broke eye contact and turned towards the bags labeled Abe’s Bookstore.

“That won’t be necessary,” Chad said and pulled out four well-used twenty-dollar bills out of his wallet. Damian and shorty stilled as Chad reached over to hand them to my father. I caught a whiff of the powerful magic as the bills came by my sensitive nose.

I sprang into action, my claws out, a high-pitch yowl coming out of my mouth.  Chad dropped the bills onto the counter in astonishment. My animal instinct told me to go to the source of the power and I slashed at Damian. He held up his arm to protect himself and I made contact.

My victim yelped in pain and a blast of magic sent me hurling into the wall. If I had been a real cat, my vulnerable back would’ve been broken. My magic could heal me but I concentrated all my power on my powerless father. I’d be damned if my spell broke now.

I played dead and slid to the ground. My father’s distress hit me hard but I couldn’t let him know I lived. Not when they had been trying to catch him. The bastards. Somebody must’ve ratted us out because I knew my magic had no holes. Somebody had told that revolting ratface my father was human.

I lay in a heap not breathing and straining to hear what was being said. I smelled my father’s fear. Please dad, please dad, be okay. I focused as hard as I could on my magic to keep it as bound to him as possible.

“Your cat scratched me. I’m bleeding,” Damian hissed.

“I can heal that.” I heard my father say. I opened up one eye and saw my father reaching out to touch Damian. Startled, he whipped his arm away from my father.

“Don’t touch me, old man. I can heal myself just fine.” Damian said and did just that. A black fog with a life of its own snaked around his arm and when it dissipated, his arm showed no markings.

“You bled on the casket. That binds it to you and makes the Fae magic all the more powerful. As you must know, the Fae feed on blood as does their magic. Take it as a token of my good will. No cost. I don’t know what kind of hope spell has been put on it but now that your blood has touched it…well, I can’t imagine the power. No cost. It’s my way of saying I’m sorry for my old cat. She sometimes gets ornery.” He said, sounding remorseful.

Damian’s greedy eyes turned on the bloodied casket.

“That’s a fitting gift,” Damian said gravely. He snatched the casket out of my frightened dad’s hand. I held my breath, terrified they had touched but my fear was unwarranted. My father was still safe. Damian nodded at his buddies and like they lackey’s they were, they all trooped out of the bookstore.

I lay against the wall until my dad gave me the signal and walked passed me to put the closed sign up on the door. He pulled down the metal door and then gigantic shade that masked all looker ons from seeing inside the store when it was closed. Only then did I rise, stretch my back checking for anything broken.

When I found myself miraculously whole, I shifted back into my human self and felt my robe on my shoulders. I turned to my father who was working hard to stay on his feet.

“We’ve been found it.”

“I can’t think of who it could be,” my father said. His shaking legs finally gave out on him and he sank to the ground. I pulled the robe around me and sat across from him.

“We must have a spy in our cell. You’re going to have to disappear until I can get to the bottom of this. Can you go to stay with Aunt Silvie in San Diego?” I asked, running through all the names of the relatives that hadn’t disappeared or been taken away to one of the internment camps. The list fit on one hand.

“Won’t they think to search for me there?” he asked.

“Where else could you go?” I asked trying hard not to cry. I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to go on if something happened to him.

“I have someone. No one could find our connection. I haven’t spoken to him in years but I’m sure he would have someplace for me to go.”

“Who is he?” By the look on his face, I knew he wasn’t planning on telling me.

“I’ll contact you when I get there. If you get caught, then they can’t force it out of you since you won’t know.” It took me every ounce of effort not to crawl into his lap and sob. I had to be strong now though. I had a task. There would be time for crying later.

“I have to find out for sure if the casket magical work,” I said.

“There’s one more thing.”

“Yes?” I was afraid to even ask.

“You won’t need to cloak me any longer.”

“You’ll need the magic’s protection if you’ll be out in the open,” I said.

“I won’t be out in the open. And you’ll need all of your magical energy for what’s coming next.”

“What’s coming next?” I couldn’t help but ask. My dad had aged twenty years in the last ten minutes and I was afraid for his heart.

“No more questions, Reg. Just hug me.” I locked my arms around him and squeezed him tight.

“I love you, Daddy.” I choked back a sob.

“I love you too, baby. Your mother would be so proud of what you’ve become,” he said into my hair.

“Why does this sound like I’m never going to see you again.” I pulled away from him but he avoided my eyes. “What are you not telling me?”

He ignored my question. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Take care of yourself. This is more important than me being found to be human.”

“Don’t say that dad. Don’t ever say that,” I said, standing up. “I don’t know how I’ll make it in this world without you.”

“Hope. Always have hope. It’s the only thing that we can cling to.” I saw the pain in his eyes and understood what he meant. We had lost so many friends. The purges had begun soon after President Dixon took office and all the magical creatures came out of hiding.

When the magical creatures found themselves to make up the majority of the population, President Dixon rallied them with hateful rhetoric and mobilized a portion of them to fulfill the next step in his plan.

The eradication of the human race.

He began by interning all the humans into camps reminiscent of the Japanese Internment camps in World War Two. Except now there were camps outside of every major city. It was only a matter of time before his vision was realized. The magical barrier had held along the borders of the United States and our European and Canadian Allies hadn’t managed to break through yet.

Our resistance movement was small and growing. But we needed help from the outside. When President Dixon dispatched his personally chosen mages to take over the governorships of each state, the mayorships of every major city, they crushed any resistance that sprang up. But we had to try.

The elements of the magical folk that felt like he did make sure to police their small patches.  The vampires, the werewolves, and the Fae and all the magical witches and warlocks could safely walk the streets without fear of retribution from the humans.

But that didn’t make it right. Just because the humans had hunted us for so many years didn’t give us the right to obliterate them off this world. Murder was murder no matter who you were committing it against. Even if they did deserve it for all the years of our persecution.

I knew my mission and I would fulfill it even if I didn’t see my father again. We were at war. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and another hug. He turned away from me but I knew from the shaking of his shoulders that he was crying.

I shifted before I started crying myself. I wended through the stacks to the back of the store and took the cat door into the alleyway. The smell of raw sewage and garbage assaulted my nose. La Brea Avenue used to be a tony street in the heart of Los Angeles. Maybe not as fancy as Rodeo Drive but it had its share of designer boutique store and fancy furniture stores. Now, it looked more like a tent city. This wasn’t a part of town anyone wanted to be in once the sun set.

***

I made my way to the front door of my father’s store and sniffed for a while until I picked up Damian’s scent. It’d been close to an hour since the students had left but Damian’s magic was strong enough that his scent lingered. His scent was distinct with burning ash, sulfur and a smell I couldn’t yet place. It wasn’t a pleasant smell but I was thankful for it. It was an easy one to track.

I trotted up La Brea Boulevard until I hit Sunset. I lost his scent at the bus stop. Of course, they were students at UCLA. It was way too far to walk to the dorms from here. They had to have caught a bus or caught some other ride to campus. As far as I knew, none of the boys had the magic of teleportation.

If I decided to take the bus, it would take me much too long to get there. For all I knew Damian already opened the casket. But Xerxes had told me that the magic was so great that we’d be able to feel the change. I didn’t know how that was even possible in a city of over four million magical beings but he’d patted me on the head as if I didn’t fully understand.

The bus came and went and I still sat on the corner contemplating my dilemma when a car filled with Woodland Pixie Fae sorority girls pulled to the curb. One of them ran toward the Rite-aid door and a plan formulated.

I hopped into the car before any of them could see me and crawled under the front driver’s seat. I didn’t have too long to wait before the pixie was back in the car, and we were hurtling towards West Los Angeles. The pixies comprised of two different sororities and when the car pulled up to the first one, I took my chance and jumped out.

I deduced that it had only taken us about fifteen minutes to get to campus. Xerxes had discovered where Damian lived and I pulled up a mental map. The dorms were on the North West side of campus. I checked out a couple of signs and I was on my way.

It didn’t take me long to catch Damian’s scent. As it turned out, our intel was right and Damian did indeed live where the Gorgon had said he did. I hoped he had the floor and room right as I hopped into a tree to get to the ledge of the third-floor window.

When I got to Damian’s window, I peered in and found him getting examined by one of the healing mages. Guess he wasn’t so sure of his magic like he said he was. I’d been surprised that he could heal himself. In the magic he practiced, the healing arts weren’t high on the list of must-haves.

By the look on the healing mage’s face, Damian had done a good job of healing.

He turned his hungry eyes to the bloodied casket. Damian went to the door and I could hear him call for Chad and Tony. Chad and the short, stubby friend appeared in his doorway on command. What was power without minions, I thought?

They both tried to come in but Damian shook his head. He didn’t want his friends getting any residual Fae magic if he could help it.

“Stay back,” I heard his muffled voice command them. “The Fae magic is mine. I don’t want it getting confused by other people in the room.”

I pressed my nose against the glass in anticipation as Damian turned back to the casket. He made a point of turning it over several times in his hand and reading the tiny inscription on the hinged lid.

It was almost time.

Damian looked at his friends and gave them a cold, cruel smile. He couldn’t wait to possess more power. How much power do you need, buddy, I thought.

He opened the lid and a brilliant blue light flashed and enveloped his entire body. It turned to dust and glittered on his skin. And then it disappeared into his body.

The smell of magic filled the space around him as the blue dust exploded out of every pore and he threw his head back and screamed. At first, I thought it was a cry of ecstasy but I realized the pain in the sound as his face contorted.

The blue dust swirled above his head, and each swirl flashed black and then blue, black and then blue.

It gathered in a small ball and sped up toward the window. I pulled my nose out of the window and stood up, my tail swishing. I eyed the tree I had climbed up to get to his sill and was about to make the jump when I heard a small pop come from the window pane.

I turned to look what had made the sound and the blue ball sped into my mouth. Before I knew what I was doing, I swallowed it. The magic coursed through me. More magic then I’d ever felt in my life.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, I thought and tried to take a step. I felt as if I’d drank an entire bottle of wine, as I caught myself from falling off the window sill.

An otherworldly scream filled the room and I turned back to Damian and the casket. He was on his knees staring at the casket becoming smaller and smaller until it disappeared altogether. Damian’s eyes were wide and bloodshot and he threw his head back and screamed again.

Chad and Tony finally unglued themselves from the doorway and sprang into action.

“Are you OK?”

“What happened?” Chad asked, his eyes glittering in that unkind way again. Damian shrieked again.

“They stole it. They took it from me,” he sobbed. Instead of the powerful sorcerer I’d seen at the bookstore, he was a small pathetic guy.

“My magic. They took all my magic. It’s gone. I have nothing,” He screamed at them, frothy saliva flying and hitting Tony on the face.

Tony wiped it off. With a look of shock that mirrored my own, he asked, ”Is that even possible?”

“It’s gone. All gone.”

As if in response, the magic surged through me and whipped me off the ledge into the nearest tree. I clung to the branch as another wave of magic hit me. I had to find a place to shift. My small cat form couldn’t take what was inside of me.

I froze. His magic. I had all his magic.