Dancing on the Dark Side

6 Useless Magic

As the man lowers his hands, I become aware of my mouth hanging wide open. I sit up, pressing my back against the nearest solid thing - the wall of the mausoleum.

"What are you doing raising the dead in a cemetery?" The man growls at me, turning to glare down at me. His eyes are a shocking red-violet, the red fading only slightly when he sees my face. "You're the new witch." He grumbles, more to himself then at me as those weird eyes travel over me. His frown twists into a grimace as he looks around the now empty cemetery. "What was going through your head to think raising the dead here would be a good idea?" His voice hardens as his attention lands back on me.

"I-it's not like I planned on-" I gesture around, unable to say what I did aloud. The guy's frown deepens and he gives me another accessing look. I take the second of silence to stare back at him, my eyes flicking to the wildness of his ash-blonde hair, the locks of straight hair sticking up at odd angles like he's just gotten electrocuted. It only adds to his over-all weirdness, setting off the pallor of his skin and making him look more like a zombie than witch.

"They're not going to be happy with you. The Alumno." He finally tells me, as if I'm a child, his voice scolding. It ignites the annoyance from a few seconds ago and I glare at him.

"I didn't even know I was doing it. I was looking for something and - that," I gesture at the freshly turned earth around us. Earth that had been flat and coated with perfectly trimmed grass. Places where the dead literally climbed out of their graves only minutes ago. "Happened." A shiver races up my arms and I wrap them tight against my body as my hands begin to shake.

"You raised fifty without knowing it?" The guy asks in disbelief, raising his eyebrows at me like he thinks I'm stupid. "You're, what, nineteen?" The comment hurts because I know I look young, maybe not that young, but it still irks me.

"Twenty-five," I bite back, annoyed with him.

"You're twenty-five and you don't know how to put them to rest?" Now he sounds incredulous and a little disgusted, like he thinks I'm a child running around with a knife in the middle of a department store.

"It's not like I grew up a witch! It just happened!" I gesture wildly at the sky - as if that's the thing that screwed my life over. The guy blinks and turns his head to the side, as if considering something.

"The surge last month." He guesses, but it's more like a statement than a question.

"Yeah." I hiss at him, feeling more defensive by the second.

"Then what the hell are you even doing in a cemetery?" He snaps back at me, the flare of violet burning in his eyes as his fingers twitch at his sides, like he's dying to cast or something. I've seen the fluttery movement in some of the Alumno witches I've met, right before they cast.

"What are you doing in a cemetery then?" I ask instead of answering him, my natural defensiveness bursting out of me before I can stop it.

"I work here." He grumbles, kicking at the dirt with an almost shy quality to his words. I blink at him in surprise, my eyebrows quirking at the sight of his clothing. I didn't think the dress code for a cemetery called for anything like the graphic t-shirt and jeans ensemble he's rocking.

"What like a grounds keeper?" I guess, unable to keep the surprise from my voice as I try to connect the dots. No, he couldn't possibly be...

"Yes, it's a...family thing." I can't help but raise an eyebrow at the guy's shirt, but don't comment on the off chance he decides to raise the ones he just put back in their graves. Now's not the time to ask what kind of a grounds keeper wears t-shirts on the job instead of more realistic outside-wear.

"Are you...like me?" I hesitate to voice the question, because, really, I've already gotten my answer from what he's done, but I need the verbal confirmation.

"A Dark Magic user, yes." He nods. "You don't seem to have a specialty though. I'm a Death Magician." He says it with a weird weight to his words, like he expects some sort of reaction from me.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me...?" I ask snidely, but my stomach's already churning. If it's what it sounds like... The guy's eyes flash a little redder as a not-so-nice smile spreads across his mouth.

"Humans call it Necromancy." He sneers, the title sends chills down my spine.

My human-reference fills in the blanks left by my lack of witch-knowledge. He's a Necromancer, someone who controls and/or brings the dead to life. A zombie-creator, a powerful being who twists the forces of life and death for his own messed up agenda. An automatic repulsion burns in me, but then again, my human point of view told me witches were all bad too. Maybe he's not what I think he is. I mentally scold myself for jumping to conclusions and decide I'll wait to decide anything about the guy until I've gotten to know more about him.

"I haven't met another Dark Magic user," I confide in him. "Well, not one that's still alive." I add after a second, feeling a twinge of sadness as I rethink my statement. Abuela was technically the only Dark Magic user I've ever met before this man. "My name's Fi, by the way. Fi Vene." I tell him, seeing the slight softening of his eyes at my earlier admission. His mouth presses in a thin line before he finally lets out a breath.

"Obie Trix." The man tells me, giving me a mocking bow. Trix...the name all but makes me leap into his arms I'm so relieved I've finally found the independent witch Abuela suggested I try to get ahold of to teach me.

"Will you teach me?" I ask, hope bursting into my voice as I literally jump up to stand toe-to-toe with the Death Magician. His eyes go wide and he takes a staggering step back, then, just as quickly, he closes the distance between us. His eyes burning a little more red than violet now as he glares down at me, his teeth bared as an inhuman snarl twists his lips. He follows me as I take my own half-step back in fear. My back hits the wall of the mausoleum, blocking me from getting any distance between myself and the Trix Death Magician.

"No." Obie practically spits, the burning red in his eyes scouring any hope I had that this guy would ever agree to be my mentor. I struggle against the fear of what this man can do, knowing he's my only hope in getting control over my power. The reminder of that critical truth is just enough to bolster my resolve as I meet his glare with one of my own. My spine straightens and I find myself literally nose-to-nose with the witch.

"I need you to train me." I speak as clearly as I can, despite the raging fear singing in my blood. Obie's eyes dim for a split second, blinking back at me with a mix of incredulity and respect. But the look's gone in half a second, replaced by another snarl that could rival that of the dead. "I need to learn control." I interrupt him before he can deny me again. His teeth grind as he tries to stare me back into submission but I'm not having it. "You saw what I did. And that's not the first time I've lost control." I insist, pushing as much steadiness into my words as I can. My voice still trembles.

"No." Obie growls again, but this time, he takes a step away from me, turning his head to glare at the opened door of his families mausoleum. "I won't do it." He repeats when I don't move, my lips pressing into a tight line as I struggle to stay upright. Though Obie isn't physically terrifying, I can feel the primal fear burning in me from just sensing the power rolling off him.

"Please, there's no one else I can ask-" I try again, my voice wobbling as I loose my remaining resolve. Obie reacts like a viper scenting fear, head whipping back to snarl at me once again, red-violet eyes blazing and reducing me to a cringing position against the stone wall.

"I won't say it again. Get lost before I sick the dead on you." He snaps, voice a gravely rasp like he's calling up the power to do just as he's promised. I'm moving before I have time to see if he's bluffing, my instincts screaming that he'll call on the dead without a second thought.