Chapter One
“She’s just a girl, I beg you to see compassion,” begged Gary Littleman—clumsily trying to catch up to William Grandeur in a shadowy hallway. “Sir, please, this will ruin her!” pleaded Gary Littleman.
He knew how impossible William Grandeur was—especially for someone as unimportant as William thought him to be. Gary came to a defeated halt as William neared the two large double doors to the conference room.
William turned quickly, his cloak swooshing in the darkness behind him. He stared chillingly into the eyes of Mr. Littleman, so close that their noses nearly touched.
“None of this would be happening if these revolting children would keep their place. You should be grateful that this is her only consequence. Go home Littleman,” William turned his nose up and spun back around, waving his wand causing the massive double doors to open. He selfishly entered the meeting without so much as an apology for the interruption—leaving Gary Littleman in the shadows as the doors slammed shut.
William Grandeur was a pompous individual. He felt his family was far more superior than all the other regular wizard families. He had no tolerance for anyone whom he felt was beneath him. Tonight, however, it was his actions that caused this unscheduled meeting to take place in the middle of the night.
“Nice of you to join us!” James Fogerty said sarcastically. He sat back in his seat at the conference table.
“Shut the hell—” snapped William.
“William!” interrupted his father, Grandmaster Edward Grandeur.
William found his seat beside his father at the table. He heavily placed his arms on the table in front of him, leaning his forehead on his hands. He’d developed a severe migraine over the past hour or so, quite possibly because of the events that just took place earlier that evening. There was a strong silence that his entrance introduced. The other five attendees looked at him.
“How’d this happen?” asked Michael Wilmington sitting forward in his seat. His question was interrupted by the question that followed directly after.
“Where is the body?” asked Grandmaster Fogerty.
“Sacrum Valley Potions Shop,” answered William. “I could evaporate there, grab the body and be back in thirty seconds; I’ll need someone’s help though, it’s too heavy to go it alone.”
“How long has the body been deceased?” his father inquired.
“About an hour,” replied William.
“Well, which is it?” sneered James cockily. He swooped his wand refilling his wine glass. “You know it makes all the difference,” he continued while taking a sip.
“Wait, you’re not considering?” Michael started but stopped himself because he couldn’t even fathom the idea.
“What other option do we have Michael?” barked William standing up.
“William, please,” his father said calmly, reminding William of his temper.
“You all know it’s much less of a hit if multiple wizards are involved,” William reasoned looking at the others, hoping to get at least a nod of agreement. What he was insinuating was a bit of an ask, and given his past general attitude toward—well everyone— wouldn’t exactly beckon their desire to accept such a painful and permanent task.
“You want us to cast the reversal spell with you?” Michael said, standing up quickly. “You’re out of your mind!” he exclaimed—laughing sarcastically. “So, let me get this straight, you decide to kill a vampire, and we’re just supposed to clean up your mess—” Michael started.
“He attacked me!” William declared, pounding his fist on the table, staring angrily at Michael.
“Throw a noose spell on him, or a Placido but the death spell, really?” Michael finished.
There wasn’t much left to be said. A sharp silence crept over the room; William wasn’t usually as quiet as he found himself on this evening.
“This is quite the predicament,” stated Michael’s father, Grandmaster Wilmington.
“To say the least,” rebutted Michael, raising his eyebrows disbelievingly. “I don’t understand why this is even an option. Why should we even be considering the pain of a reversal spell because this man is unable to show any amount of self-control?” he insisted, pointing directly at William Grandeur.
The repercussion of the reversal for any death or harming spell was months or years off the life of the witch or wizard performing the reversal spell. The amount depended on the level of harm the spell caused. Death took years, and it wasn’t as if the years just disappeared from the end of their life. It was almost as if the years were layers of skin being slowly pulled, or burned off that individual’s body, quite painful indeed. It would surely have to be someone you cared about, and it might be hard to believe that any of these wizards cared this much for a vampire.
“Time is of the essence,” reminded Grandmaster Grandeur. “Michael, will you accompany my son to the body to bring it back here safely? I would consider it a personal favor.”
The Grandmasters were completely aware of the seriousness of William’s actions. The death of a vampire within their community—by a wizard—could mean certain war.
Michael was beside himself, but still respectful to his elders. He wouldn’t think about directly opposing any of the Grandmasters. Nearly all the wizards in the community shared this same respect.
“Absolutely,” Michael replied. He helped himself up, looking at William condescendingly.
“Thank you, Michael,” appreciated Grandmaster Grandeur.
Michael and William both pulled out their wands, swirled it around in a circular motion and said;
“Directorium Sacrum Valley Potions Shop.”
A sharp, bright flash from the very tip of their wands encapsulated them equally within its oversized ball of light. The light shrunk down to the size of a small dot, removing them from the room in the process.
“Can you seriously not remember exactly when you cast the spell?” asked Michael unbelievingly. William shrugged, unable to answer with certainty.
It was a valid inquiry, one that should be considered. A death spell only held a ninety-minute window before it became permanent and a reversal spell was unable to work. Once the ninety-minute window expired, the vamps would disintegrate into dust. No one knew why this happened; it didn’t happen this way to wizards or even mortals. Some believe it was because they were the undead, therefore impossible to kill something already dead, it would cause their bodies to disintegrate back to its original form, dust.
“I don’t think anyone’s in there,” guessed Michael, approaching the shop first, peering through the window into the darkness.
William shoved Michael out of his way and reached for his wand. “Engranti lock,” he said, flicking the wand at the door.
A bright shock from the tip of his wand entered the lock, unlocking it. Michael grabbed William by the shoulder and pulled him back with force. He was quite muscular, more muscular then William but not as tall. He had dirty blonde hair with hazel eyes and stood at about five feet eleven inches, while William’s head was shaved entirely— not because he was trying to hide any balding—just because he thought that hair was useless and a waste of time. He wore a dark goatee and had dark brown eyes and was six feet three inches tall.
William unwillingly allowed Michael to move him aside. Michael quickly entered the shop, looking a bit lost and confused.
“You don’t even know where it is,” taunted William, regaining the leading position.
“Lead the way,” Michael whispered under his breath, realizing he let his pride get the better of him for a moment.
William hurried behind the counter and through the back-swinging doors; it was pitch black and difficult to see.
This shop was where many of the ingredients and potions were purchased, some of which required a certain degree of cooler temperature, which is exactly where William was heading with Michael right behind. Into the cooler room they went and around the large racks of potions, to a cooler that sat there, rather large, on the floor of this chilling cooler room.
There were several other coolers as well, but this was the one that captured William’s interested. The two of them grabbed either side of the cooler and reached for their wands. Together they spoke;
“Directorium Majasium.”
The Majasium was the name everyone called the Wizardry castle. Upon their command, out of their wands sparked a light that encapsulated them both, as well as the cooler, and they were zapped right back into the Majasium conference room. The second they appeared, Grandmaster Grandeur raised his wand and swooped it, opening the cooler immediately.
Michael and William both peered into the cooler. Michael slowly looked back at William, who had a slightly panicky look about him. The Grandmasters stood in their places overlooking the cooler, expressionless as usual.
“WHAT!” gasped William. “Where is he, it, he... whatever. It was right here. I put it in there myself; I locked it with my lock spell. We have to draw Heather here immediately, there’s no way it’s been ninety minutes, no way,” he exclaimed nervously. Heather was the Potions Shop owner.
No one moved a muscle. Michael had a look of concern on his face—one that would say, things are about to get bad—if looks could speak. The room met a long silence that everyone recognized.
“We must now prepare ourselves for what might come,” said Edward Grandeur, looking down concernedly.
