The Enigma of Shadows: Witchcraft, Werewolves, and A Secret

The Start

Lara Classford left her scarf behind with the police officers. She cast a glance back at the towering skyscraper where different flags fluttered, almost like symbols of peace between nations. The weather mirrored her gloomy mood as if the universe itself conspired with her emotions. It seemed, though, that the universe wasn't quite on her side yet, with grey clouds heralding an impending storm.

"Screw them," she thought as she quickly followed her steps to her taxi cab.

Taking one more quick look behind her, she spotted Robin, the inspector. He was in the process of extracting a cigarette from its pack, bringing it close to his lips, and sneaking a swift glance in her direction as if he wished to capture every detail of her. In that moment, there was no denying that she had become one of the prime suspects in the shocking assassination of Vladimir, a prominent mafia leader from the 20th century. He offered her a sidelong smile that sent a shiver down her spine. 

He smiled her way.

I quickly averted his gaze,  "Why is it that people always point fingers at witches at the first sign of trouble? My life would have been so much simpler if I hadn't attended that party yesterday night." I murmured to myself as I entered the cab.

"Where to?" the driver asked, his eyes lingering in the rearview mirror with a mix of curiosity and a hint of surprise. It seemed witches were a rarity in his line of work. It was just one more inconvenience to bear. 

More reasons to not visit the big city.

"Crassford, number 7th. Make it quick. I should be there five minutes ago," I replied with urgency. 

Time was of the essence if I wanted to reach Caspian before they did. There was no room for delay; once the werewolves got their claws on him, his fate would be sealed. Despite his proficiency as a white-level magic wizard, his innocence was his Achilles' heel, and it was bound to get him killed. 

I had no intention of letting that happen, though I couldn't deny that a part of me wished otherwise. My little brother could be a prick sometimes.

The ride was quick, but of course, it is not always that a witch gives five hundred bucks for a two-stop ride. Lucky him. Or not. 

There were whispers that witches brought bad luck wherever they went. My guess, though, is that magic brings bad luck. Unexpected things happen when I use it.

I got out as quickly as I entered. Glancing over the 3-level building, I noted a sensation flooding my body. 

Someone was using magic. Black magic to be exact. 

The Institute would be so mad to find out this was happening under their noses. Simons to be exact, the man was convinced my family was just trouble for the magical world, thank god, the chief on command was not exactly a bright mind. 

Besides, there was no point in thinking about the Insitute now. 

Out of sight, out of mind.

The hallway appeared deserted, except for a lone figure swaying back and forth. "Home, home, home," the figure mumbled repeatedly, like a broken record skipping. I hurried through the corridor, hoping I wouldn't have to deal with another freak that day. 

My plate was already full, waiting for me at home. A shiver ran down my spine as I recalled the unsettling scene that awaited me there.

I shook off the unease with a determined sigh. There was no time to dwell on other matters; I had a mission to accomplish.

"Caspian, get out here! You're in big trouble this time!" I called out, scanning the tiny 50-square-meter apartment. There wasn't much space for him to hide. I made my way past the living room, then took a right into the kitchen, where I found him.