“What a fantastic start to my first day on the job! No haunting premonitions from the past, no ghostly apparitions, just great tunes blasting through my headphones. And hey, if black panthers are tumbling out of the detective division windows, well, who hasn’t seen weirder?” I mused to myself, standing in front of the small building where I’d be working from today onward. At my feet lay a cheerful werewolf who’d just plummeted from a window and instantly shifted back to human form, waving enthusiastically at someone above. His toned physique was barely covered by the remnants of a bizarre pink suit paired with a white shirt, a sight that made my left eye twitch ever so slightly. It’s not that I had anything against magenta, but back in the day, my purple hair—which no dye could ever tame—got me endless grief. During college, the guys loved turning my stuff that same garish pink, and now, every time I see shades of it, I’m hit with an overwhelming urge to punch someone.
“Damn it, Jerry!” came an enraged shout. At the third-floor window stood a furious man in an emerald-green suit, his glare alone enough to bury the lively guy below. Not exactly the reaction I’d pictured for such a miraculous landing with zero injuries. “This doesn’t prove a thing! Not every werewolf is as tough as you, you jerk!”
“Proves something or not, that’s your problem. Learn to own your mistakes! You lost, man,” the dazed guy shot back with a grin, sticking out his tongue in response. The fact that he’d nearly knocked me out and probably given the old ladies across the street heart attacks didn’t seem to faze him one bit. “Don’t you dare back out now and not ask her! I’ll bring your whole wardrobe if I have to!”
“I’d sooner wear your stupid pink suit for a week than step on that same rake twice! Better yet, I’ll just kill you now and be done with it!” A heavy book flew out the window, striking the mischievous werewolf and bouncing off his head to land at my feet. “No person, no problem!”
“Bet the killer of Mr. Reynald thought the same way…” the oddball muttered, brushing dust off his torn pants and adjusting the surviving collar of his shirt as if getting pelted with heavy objects was just another day for him. With that kind of unshakable stubbornness, it probably was. “Get over it, Rayne! Have a coffee with the new necromancer. Who knows, you might not bury her like the others. And she won’t run screaming like your past freakshows! Just put up with her until we crack this case!” Jerry added with a playful wink before heading back into the office like nothing had happened.
I stood in front of the department’s entrance, watching him go, clutching the thick tome titled *Magical Traits of Non-Humans, Volume Ten* in my hands. Clearly, the first nine volumes hadn’t taught this werewolf not to make bets, since the tenth had just crash-landed on the street.
Workdays were shaping up to be a riot. From their conversation, it was obvious these two were my new colleagues, folks I hadn’t even met yet. If I was lucky, they wouldn’t be from the magical crimes unit. If I wasn’t, they definitely were—and they were probably talking about me. After all, there weren’t many necromancers in Vylance, and we didn’t get hired every day. What were they betting on, anyway? Coffee? Fine, I wouldn’t mind treating them to smooth over any conflict before it even started.
Stepping into the precinct, I quietly made my way to the coffee machine and waited for the drinks to brew. I couldn’t help but wonder why my predecessors had bolted from that grump on the third floor. Sure, his personality wasn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows—you could see that from down here—but necromancers weren’t known for boundless optimism either. What could’ve scared them off so badly that they just up and left?
While I mulled this over, the coffee finished brewing. It was the simplest, strongest stuff available, but I didn’t have much choice. Mages like me, with limited reserves, didn’t care what we drank as long as it had calories to keep us from burning out like a dead battery or dozing off on the way to a mission. With no coasters in sight, I balanced the cups on top of that same hefty tome and headed to the duty officer at the checkpoint. Behind the desk sat a redheaded woman with a big, warm heart and a nervous twitch under her left eye. Her badge read “Sally Neya.” Without overthinking it, I pulled out my ID, set it in front of her, flashed a smile, and politely asked:
“Good morning! Could you tell me if the magical crimes team is on the third floor?”
“Yes… Ms. Sound…?” she replied awkwardly, her eyes tracking the disheveled werewolf climbing the stairs. As if sensing her stare, he tripped, fell to his knees, scrambled up, and started holding up his sagging pants by the waistband. Talk about feeling right at home! Sally must’ve thought the same because her face turned beet red. The embarrassment on her cheeks was unmistakable. It looked like she was about to slap her forehead over this guy’s antics! Did they eat my predecessors or something? Even the regular staff had these loaded looks. “Don’t you want to sip your coffee for, say, ten minutes before diving into a tough workday…? Or maybe fifteen?”
“Should I?” I asked, surprised, not quite getting why she was stalling my introduction. Then a racket erupted from upstairs, like someone had toppled a bunch of huge cabinets and started jumping on them. I raised an eyebrow in mild shock, finally catching her warning, and shrugged. “Do they do this often?”
“Well, how do I put this…” the duty officer drawled as the noise above gradually died down. She gave me a careful once-over, noticed I wasn’t freaking out—not even a twitch in my eye—and seemed to relax a bit. “We really need a new necromancer! We’ve got so many cold cases, we could string them up as Christmas lights! Please don’t run off!”
“I wasn’t planning to… So the guys are loud, who isn’t sometimes?” I asked awkwardly, remembering the chaos my classmates caused back in school. “Which way on the third floor?”
“Oh, trust me, you won’t get lost…”
Smiling at Ms. Neya, I grabbed my ID and headed off to meet my new colleagues. I couldn’t help but wonder if they’d accidentally kill me in the middle of their bickering. Maybe the coffee would act like a peace offering, calming them down enough for me to cast a few spells before another tome came flying at my head. Judging by the books scattered at my feet, the war up there had started yesterday. How many were lying around? Probably a lot.
Climbing the steep stairs, I felt like the old, rickety building might collapse any second. The men were arguing so loudly that I was glad I’d put lids on the coffee cups. Otherwise, neither they, nor this tenth volume of *Magical Traits of Non-Humans*, nor my scalded hands would’ve made it to the right door. Ms. Sally was right—you couldn’t miss the entrance. It was the only open door on the entire floor, surrounded by strewn books and random papers.
To my great surprise, as I approached the gateway to this local hellhole, the fighting stopped. Even the shouting from behind the wall ceased, and the draft disappeared. Just to be safe, I stood there for another five minutes before cautiously taking a few steps forward. Then a few more, carefully crossing the threshold. But before I could let out a sigh of relief, another blasted book came hurtling toward me! Seriously, was there nothing else to throw?! A donut, maybe? A paycheck? Why always the heavy academic tomes?!
A curse slipped from my lips faster than I could think, and the book turned to ash midair, crumbling as it hit my outstretched palm.
“Good morning to you too,” I said with a sharp smile, getting a closer look at the culprits behind this chaos. A violet flicker danced across my hand, and I quickly tugged the sleeve of my cozy sweater down to hide it. “I hope this wasn’t too important to you?”
“Nah, Violet, why would we need the Codex anyway? People in Vylance have managed just fine without laws all this time, right?” the werewolf quipped with a playful wink—the same guy who’d nearly gotten me hit twice already. He then gave my outfit a thorough once-over before asking, “Haven’t we met before?”
“We have,” I shrugged, setting the tome and coffee cups on the one intact table. “You were just flying out the window with Volume Ten down on the street, and I nearly lost it when I saw people diving out of the detective division. Coffee?”
“Thanks, Ms…?” the man in the pristine emerald suit hesitated, giving me an odd look. His gaze snagged on my messy purple hair before he shut his matching green eyes.
“Esmina. Esmina Sound. I’m the new necromancer.”
“What was that about a suit…?” the werewolf drawled smugly, sprawling on a beat-up couch like a cat. Underneath his torn outfit, leopard-print boxers peeked out, but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest. “I’ll bring it tomorrow.”
“Do that,” the grump—Mr. Rayne—said firmly, taking a few sips of coffee. His steely face showed almost no emotion, but I could tell I hadn’t repulsed him. So why the loaded reaction? When had I managed to offend them? “Looks like she’s gonna stick around for a while.”
“Why’s that?” I asked, curious. Was it because I brought coffee and didn’t bolt at the sound of their ruckus?
“Because, Ms. Sound, you don’t look like a necromancer at all,” Jerry stated matter-of-factly, and my eye twitched at his mocking tone. “How can you be a scary necromancer when you’re a delicate little Violet?”
“Tough. And prickly as a thistle,” I shot back coldly.
The next moment, that same battered Volume Ten went flying at Jerry, courtesy of Mr. Rayne. The werewolf tried to dodge, but I quickly cast an ice slick spell on the floor, costing me another violet flicker and a small burn on my hand. The loudmouth lost his balance and crashed to the ground, staring in shock as we casually finished our coffee with a smirk.
“Welcome to your first day, Ms. Sound,” Mr. Rayne finally said with a smile, raising his cup in a toast.
Dimples appeared on his stern cheeks, softening his harsh features. Without overthinking, I smiled back and leaned against the table. My first workday was shaping up to be a wild ride.