The Magic Of An Alter Ego.

Chapter 6

As far as Wilson could remember, familiars were illegal. Illegal like witches and assassins and everything else in between.

Witches used them for nasty deeds. Summoning them from a sacrifice and then setting them onto the target. They monsters shapeshifting into other unworldly monsters.

They were reliable. They were monstrous and intelligent. They learned quickly about how to use magic and never stopped until the summoner's wishes were fulfilled. They were deadly.

Wilson awoke in a cold sweat, his nightmares being plagued with the horrible eyes and breath of the raven. A headache pounded against his head and his throat was sore. He slumped to the blinds and drew them open, shutting them tight the second the light hit his eyes.

He blinked, eyes half open at the clock. He was late.

He wasn't sure if the reminder that work would be off was a drunken hallucination or reality. Wilson slumped past the door noticing the other workers go by. They were dressed in black, a strange shade to have on after such a large celebration. He didn't feel like saying any thing to his coworkers. If he had the day off, he made it his goal to spend it with Argo.

Wilson passed by the coworkers, finding the number of them had thinned out. Probably gone to spend the day with relatives or family. Wilson followed the staircases to the castle entrance. He'd be at the central. Or maybe he'd find him on the street.

Wilson's thoughts subsided as Charlotte stepped around the corner. He took a step forward, ignoring the pain in his head. She might have known where Argo was. Had Argo mentioned her last night?

He couldn't remember.

"Miss, I was wondering if you could help me?" Wilson approached the woman in black. "I know it is your day off and the festival was-"

"Do you have no sympathy?" It was less of a question and more of a hiss. Wilson hadn't even noticed the gloom that surrounded her. Her eyes burned with wrath. He stepped backward.

"Excuse.. Excuse me?" He stammered. He glanced back at the other workers nearby.

Charlotte almost loomed over him, her presence making him shrink back. "You have no right to appear so cheerful." She pinched the bridge of her nose and gave a sniffle. "The princess is dead and you still think it a cheerfully day!"

Wilson went silence.

He choked out the words. "I... I thought that was a dream." A nightmare if anything; nothing real.

Charlotte sobbed. "Oh, you would. You were spouting drunk, nonsense!"

Wilson cringed. He hoped she wouldn't have found out about that.

Charlotte went on and on, "You were in a fit when you returned to the castle, a minor concussion from the events of last night!" Her shouting turned to crying. He glanced at those who had gotten the attention of her crying.

Well that explained the headaches a bit.

"The princess was a beautiful young lady whose life didn't need to be taken by the likes of your halfling friend." Charlotte finished before shoving past him. "You even went to attack a guard to help the little traitor."

Wilson cringed. That explained the concussion.

"I'll have you know he'll be tried later today." She threw her nose in the air and walked away.

Wilson, hesitant at first, chased after her.

"Today?" He snapped. "They can't just banish him a day after the crime."