Chapter 1: Special Agent Rolan Carter swore silently as Special Agent Jason Cuthbert took the folder from

his hand, pulling so fast as to allow the manila to slice a small opening on his index finger. Unfortunately, they were in Interrogation Room C on the third floor of the FBI building in Jacksonville, Florida. As that room was currently occupied by a third individual besides himself and Cuthbert, he couldnt well put a voice to his small injury. Him and the middle-aged agent needed to present a united front against the other occupant, a bald man with tattoos up and down his neck suspected of having a part in a statewide methamphetamine distribution ring. That still didnt stop Cuthbert from being a prick in his opinion. Carter unconsciously reached to his hip for an instrument that wasnt there to help fix his finger, but realized halfway through what he was doing and stopped. He couldnt do anything about the cut in here here. No, he would have to do his best to disregard the burning feeling on his finger. It was funny how the smallest things could quite literally hurt the most. Too bad he didnt have any super glue on hand to pinch it together with, having heard that was a decent fix to his current problem. In the end he contented himself with squeezing the cut together for a few seconds under the table. When he stopped focusing on the cut he realized Cuthbert was talking and had apparently been doing so for a few seconds, as he was obviously mid-sentence when Carter tuned back in. He quickly brought his attention back to bear and listened to the agent address the gentleman seated across from them. at which point a handgun was taken from you, Cuthbert was reading from the report Carter had handed him. Says here you dont have a permit for this weapon. Also says it matches the ballistics from an unsolved murder a few years back where a local dealer was found dead in his own home. Care to comment on that Mr. Swanson? No, was the curt reply. Really now? Thats interesting. Very interesting, Cuthbert said, not looking up from the file.

Apparently the suspense was too much for Swanson, for he couldnt help but ask, Whats interesting? Cuthbert just laughed, finally setting the file back on the table. He stretched out an arm and looped it around the back of Carters chair, while absentmindedly rubbing his slightly sagging belly with the other. He let the silence hang for a few seconds, during which Carter took the time to examine Swanson closer. There was a spider web tattoo inked across the left side of his neck, high enough to be visible even if he was wearing a collar. Some words, unintelligible in their ridiculous looping style, rode his Adams apple. He was sure if he could see the other side of his neck, thered be something stupid there too. A portion of another tattoo was visible just behind his ear but wrapped around to the back of his head. Thankfully there was one of the classic one-way mirrors behind the man. As he looked into it to try and determine what the tattoo was, he caught a glimpse of himself. Brown hair, shaved close to the scalp, adorned a tanned face complete with a set of blue eyes. The condition of his skin gave testament to his young age of twenty-six, being absent of wrinkles and the usual marking of age. His aquiline nose had a slight crookedness to it, having been broken in his teenage years and failing to have healed properly. The charcoal suit he wore hid his six foot two frame, which was decently solid. He had never been the most muscular, but was what one would call trim. It was kept that way by daily runs and other occasional workouts. Overall, Carter was a normal looking young man who didnt stand out too much in a crowd, something that could be an asset in the FBI. His gaze game to rest on the reflection of Mr. Swansons rear dome, and the sight wasnt pretty. He was reminded of the famous young kid who had covered his entire body in anatomical pictures, showing what the inside of his body would look like on the outside of his skin. That was artfully done. Mr. Swansons on the other hand was just plain disgusting. The back of his head bore a tattoo of a bloody furrow through his scalp, exposing the fragmented bone and oozy brain beneath. Frankly, it was a disturbing sight, one that carter wished he hadnt subjected himself to. He was brought back to Mr. Swansons eyes when Agent Cuthbert resumed talking. Ballistics matches that crime scene as I said, so as far as Im concerned we

have you dead to rights there. However, he emphasized this word, bringing his hands back together on the table as he said so. Were willing to offer you a deal. We need someone on the inside of your organization, someone who can feed us information so we can finally dismantle it. If you help us, your sentencing will be considerably reduced, and parole will be on the table quicker than usual. Swanson was silent for a minute, his teeth clenched. He wasnt stupid enough to contradict the evidence from the pistol, which in Carters opinion was stupid to have kept, but neither was he too quick to jump on the offer. The file was turned upside down so he couldnt try to read it. Even if it was right side up, Cuthbert would have snatched it away if he saw his eyes scanning the page. The accused wasnt supposed to know anything other than what they told them. Again, Carter thought the guy was a dick. It was more fun to outsmart your opponent completely in his mind. Let them know everything you know, every little detail, then still use it as a noose to tighten as they try to wriggle free. The drug dealer didnt get that chance, however, and it wasnt Carters place to even offer it to him. He was only on loan for the day on bitch duty. Normally hed be in the field office in Tallahassee, but being the newest recruit into the Helix division had its downsides. One of those was running errands, such as liaising with the senior agent on a major drug case on the chance paths crossed in their own drug investigations back in the state capitol. The catch of the whole thing was, there was no official division of the FBI known as Helix, nor was there a field office in Tallahassee. If anyone actually bothered to pull up Carters records, hed be listed as a technical consultant, with a bunch of confusing and overall useless information on his employment at the agency. There was a simple cause of this matter: Carter was a different type of agent. In fact, he was a different type of person. Special Agent Rolan Carter was the Tallahassee field offices newest recruit into the Helix division straight out of the Academy, where young people with the ability to, in common terms, perform magic, were trained in the field of law enforcement. In short, Carter was a wizard. A highly trained, government sanctioned one at that.

He still wished he could have his wand on him as he sat there in the interrogation room watching Swanson think to himself silently, finger still stinging slightly. He had been forced to leave it in his holster in his desk before he drove to this city. The other agents had all laughed at him as he went, drawing their own on him to try and make him flinch. It almost worked, as he felt naked without it to defend himself, but rules were rules. When on bitch duty, such as this, one couldnt have their instruments. He was no newcomer to hazing, as any kid in college had experienced, but it was getting old fast. Hed been with Helix for three months now and the most exciting thing hed been allowed to do magically was help change someones identity, complete with modifying some memories and changing the mans physical appearance. It was unfortunate, but magic was strictly controlled in Carters world. Most wizards were deeply integrated into non-magical society, so they could hardly bust out their wands for every little thing, such as paper cuts. It was ironclad law that had been proven time and again to be necessary that prevented them from performing it in the presence of normal folk. Carter knew the reasons behind it, but still sometimes felt like flouting it. Right now he just wanted to use his hawthorn tool to coerce Swanson into taking the deal so he could get out of here. While he was at it, he could also cause Cuthbert a couple pricks and prods, and maybe make this headache go away. There was no use brooding on it though, for Swanson was starting to stir. He could see it in the mans eyes as something twitched, and Carter knew the game was won. Being a lowlife drug dealer hed drag it out, but in the end hed already given up and accepted Cuthberts deal. A mans thoughts could be read in his irises if one had the ability. Carter was especially adept and Swansons hazels superbly undisguised. It was with relief he left the building on 6061 Gate Parkway an hour and a half later. Swanson had eventually caved and Cuthbert lined out the deal, which took a surprisingly short amount of time. His plan really was simple, too simple in Carters opinion. But hey, it was only his job to liaise, not comment. That would be

for his boss, Henry Morten to deal with. For now, he just had to babysit the files in his hand for the trip home and hed be good. His government issued Ford Escape sat waiting in the parking deck and soon had him cruising along the roads at a comfortable speed. The gray SUV was his primary means of transportation as, contrary to popular opinion, wizards did not ride brooms or carpets everywhere. Some of those with the most advanced studies could disappear and reappear somewhere else at will, but it was incredibly difficult and dangerous. Most didnt even bother to try after the horrific number of deaths as opposed to the relatively few numbers of successes. Once upon a time brooms and carpets had transported wizards to their destinations. That day was long gone now with the advent of the media age. You could always wipe the minds of anyone who accidently saw you, but nowadays everything could be posted to Twitter or YouTube in a matter of seconds and then you have an epidemic on your hands. Thus brooms and carpets in all their auspiciousness had been outlawed, while magical teleportation was just slightly frowned upon. It was easier to arrive by that means since crowds could always mask your sudden reappearance, but there was still the difficulty of it all. Therefore, cars took the stage as a wizards means of getting somewhere. They could have all sorts of enhancements to make them go faster while appearing to be driving at a safe speed, get through otherwise stopped traffic, and basically any other feature that could help them travel quicker than normal vehicles. Carter didnt bother with any of those special features as he drove, simply relaxing in the mundane task of navigating the highway. When he had arrived back at the field office in midtown Tallahassee, it was to find the office basically as he left it. The building was slightly emptier as some of the men had either gone home early or out on assignment. Otherwise it was the same office-like environment non-magical people experienced everyday, except for a few things they surely didnt have. For one thing, paper airplanes occasionally shot around the building as interdepartmental memos, serenely flying over the heads of everyone working, carrying their details of domestic terrorists easily as they glided through the air. A water cooler in one corner was perpetually full and dispensed

whatever you asked of it as long as you asked nicely. All normal office supplies such as staplers and paper clips were enchanted to work without needing to be handled, which was definitely one of Carters favorite luxuries. For some reason it always amazed him to mutter, Come here to his pile of sticky notes and watch one float right up to where he needed it so he could write a reminder on it. The simple pleasures in life were really the best. Wes Averly, the senior agent assigned to show him the ropes for his first few months at the agency, was at his desk as he approached. He sat on one corner of the thing, legs crossed over each other. He was slightly paunchy, with the look of an athlete gone to see over the years. His face was equal parts genial and stern, which was further enforced by his attire. The suit was pure black and the shirt underneath stark white, all the trappings of a classic government agent. Except for the tie. Averly liked to wear bowties. It was something that set him apart from others, and honestly one of Carters favorite things about the man. Black hair to his ears shrouded his absurdly thick eyebrows, and his voice was like gravel as he talked. Ive got some news for you, he said. Carter noticed a leather shoulder holster under his partners suit jacket holding his own wand. Normally Wes carried it on a hip one just like his. Yeah, what is it? he asked, barely able to keep some of the excitement out of his voice. He was honestly hoping that Wes was about to tell him there was a bombing or something, anything to get him off bitch duty. Three months of pushing papers around and talking to people who had no idea magic existed for hours on end every day had ground him down to the nerve. He was a man who needed action. His partner fulfilled his silent wish. Bank robbery. Just got wind of it two minutes ago and saw you coming in on the board, Wes said, referencing the screen in the lounge that indicated some odd things, such as any agents time of arrival back to the office. Whats it got to do with us? Surely local authorities can handle it? he asked, pushing Wess leg aside as he reached into his drawer and pulled out his wand. Some asshole had stuck a used piece of gum to it. He heard someone snigger as he

pulled it off and threw it away, but was too focused on what was coming to really bother caring at the stupid prank. Richter registered magic there. Curious thing was we only caught two spells before the thing stopped getting a feed. Almost as if the wizard doing it stopped using magic, but that wouldnt make sense. Scanners show that the heist is still going. Suit up, we arrive in seven minutes. With that, Wes walked away towards the door Carter had just entered through. He ran across the office floor to his boss Mortons office and threw the files from Jacksonville down on the mans desk before sprinting back to his own. He kept a combat holster similar to his partners in the bottom drawer, which he quickly opened and put on as he started running back to the door. Two seconds later he was back, having left his actual wand on the chair in a state of heavy excitement. This was what he had trained for, going out into the field and working to stop wizards who had gone off the right path! He was only slightly nervous. Wes was waiting in his own car in the garage attached to the building as Carter ran out. He threw open the door to the black Camaro and waited until Carter jumped in before he floored it. Within seconds they were on Monroe Street, and in another two minutes on Thomasville Road, speeding toward the suburban outskirts. The magical enhancements of the car moved them faster than any other on the street, but without the other drivers noticing. Unfortunately, there was a limit as to exactly how fast they could go, as at some point they really would just become a blur to others, and blurs were noticeable. Still, they reached the Suntrust bank without incident and pulled up to an interesting scene. No less than seven cop cars were parked outside the building with a S.W.A.T. vans posted in a corner of the lot. A media van was attempting to pull up, having caught a lucky break of driving by when the scene unfolded, but was being directed away by a few officers despite the reporters less than happy protests. Wes and Carter were let into the lot without incident as they flashed their badges to a lowranked officer and parked. They didnt even bother talking to any of the officers milling around, instead making their way directly to the S.W.A.T. van. They made

sure to keep their suits buttoned, as a strong wind threatened to reveal that their holsters held wooden sticks in the place of guns. Carter reached the command van first and pulled the doors open, allowing Wes to enter in front of him. At once a burly sergeant stepped forward to block their path, demanding to know who they were. Special Agents Carter and Averly, FBI hostage negotiation. Who is in charge here? Wes asked. I am, said the well-muscled black man who had confronted them. Sergent Willy Macintosh. Its a pretty cut and dry operation today, sir. The guy doesnt seem overly efficient in bank heists. My men and I are just getting ready to breach the bank. Well flash them and rush in before the guy knows whats happening. You will do no such thing, sergeant. Your men will stand down until I have assessed the situation appropriately, Wes cut in. I do not mean to be rude, but I outrank you here and you will do as I say. Sergeant Macintosh, perhaps being a former Marine, didnt argue and accepted the chain of command without further question. Wes had that characteristic about him, being able to take charge of any situation immediately. The sergeant quickly filled them in on what was happening inside the bank. One man is in there, armed, but can barely hold the gun straight. Weve got video on him, he said, indicating a screen that a technician was sitting in front of, watching. He did nothing to hide his face or disable the cameras, suggesting he is inexperienced. I mean look at him. Hes holding that gun like a two year old would. The information meant more to Carter and Wes than it did to the sergeant. Wizards often had trouble grasping the nuances of non-magical society, and holding a gun could be one of those things that a failed wizard just didnt get. Some even had problems with toothpaste, so used to having their toothbrush do everything itself. Wes watched the guy on the screen point the gun around erratically for a few seconds, reaffirming the possibility that he was a wizard new to handling nonmagical weapons and had set off the Richter alarm for magic performed before resorting to a gun. The question that was on Carters mind was why the man wasnt

using magic anymore to rob the bank, but that didnt seem to be Wess main concern. He walked back over to Carter and quietly whispered in his ear. Drone them, were the words that Carter barely heard. The blood renewing its fast-paced pump made it difficult to hear. He casually reached into his jacket and pulled his wand from its holster and brought it down to his side. Taking it in turns to sneakily point it at the team members in turn, starting it with Sergeant Macintosh, he whispered, Mentisapia seven times. Each man twitched slightly as the spell hit them and took hold, but none had any adverse reactions. Carter was pleased with himself for successfully casting it, as the feeling of seven invisible wires tingling from his arm to his wand and beyond gave testament to. He had done it several times at the Academy, being able to actually impose his will on twelve people at once, but that had always been in monitored conditions. This was the real world now. He allowed them to continue their work normally as he waited for instructions from Wes, who, once he saw Carter had successfully cast the spells, had begun walking toward the door again. None of the men in the van seemed to notice their departure as they exited, making their way toward the bank. Nothing could be heard inside the bank except for a single mans shouting inside. Thankfully gunshots were absent so far. Some policemen tried to stop them as they walked up to the glass doors of the bank, but realized they had just come from the S.W.A.T. van and decided to stand down. Carter was glad that he wouldnt have to drone them as well. His connection to the others was already slightly tenuous even with the meager distance between them. Wes tried the door, which was unsurprisingly locked. No sooner had he rapped his knuckles on the glass then a man, wild looking with grayish stubble on his face and a bright red jack covering his limbs despite the July heat, the man from the monitors, came sprinting to the door. What do you want? he shouted, voice muffled and gun waving dramatically.

We just want to talk, Wes yelled back and held his badge up for the man to see. FBI hostage negotiators. Can we come in? How do I know youre not S.W.A.T.? they could hear the man say. They both spread their jackets open for the man to see. Their holsters were crafted in such a way that you could open your jacket quite wide without revealing the straps, another useful marvel of modern magic. Were unarmed, as you can see, Wes lied. So may we please come in a talk? The man looked at what Wes assumed was the group of hostages in the lobby of the bank, as he couldnt see them from his angle, before the man pointed the gun at the glass. They both reacted by taking a step back, trying to judge whether the man would try to shoot through it. Thankfully the robber only unlocked the door, still aiming the gun as he backed away slowly, then disappeared from view as he ran back to the hostages. As Carter and Wes entered, they saw him holding it to a ladys temple, covering himself with her just in case. He was positioned well, Carter noticed. He was away from the windows, which were drawn so as to prevent outside snipers from seeing him, and was angled so as to be invisible from the front door. Having him on screen could only do so much for an assault team. If they entered, they would know where he was. However, knowing where a man will be and shooting at said man were two different things. The man still looked crazy, despite his forethought. He was oddly twitchy and sweating profusely, which made Carter wonder why he didnt just take the ridiculous jacket off. Stay where you are! he shouted at them. Let me see your hands. They complied, holding their hands up so that he could see they were empty. Carters wand had found its way back to his holster. What do you want from me? Just to talk, Wes said. We dont want anything to happen to these people. Just like Im sure you dont want to hurt them. Wes was trying to calm the man down, but Carter secretly thought there was no use in that. The guy was obviously out of his mind. He started inching to his right,

hopefully to get an angle on him. He was able to get a few inches without being noticed, as the robbers attention was fixated on Wes talking. Im going to make this clear from the beginning. There are six S.W.A.T. officers outside ready to charge the building, Carter knew this was true, still having the connection to each of the men. Two were at the front door and the other four were positioning themselves elsewhere. If you do anything stupid they will come in and try to minimize the damage by firing at you. We just need to calm down, okay? Im not trading any hostages! the man yelled, frantic. Im not asking for a trade. I just want you to put the gun down and we can all walk out of here nicely. No harm done yet, youll just have to come with us before anything bad happens, Wes said smoothly. Yeah right, like you wont have your men shoot me right when I drop this thing, the robber said, waving his gun stupidly. Cut the shit, boy, Wes said, dropping all pretenses. You could stop the bullets if you wanted to. Wes drew his wand quicker than the robber could react and Carter did the same. He shouted something at the same time and suddenly the gun was no longer in the mans hand. Wes started advancing on the man when the robber started stuttering. I-I-I dont under-der-stand, he stammered, sounding as if he was crying, but with an extremely confused facial expression while he stared around wildly. It took a split second for Wes to register it, and another for Carter to get it too. When a person was droned, under extreme duress they would start fighting the curse, and were often confused as they started shrugging it off. This was usually accompanied by a slight speech impediment as they came fully out of the spell. Two classic symptoms which the robber, who was using non-magical means of heisting a bank, had just displayed. Wes only had time for an, Oh, fuck, before he was hit in the ribs by a streak of silver light fired by one of the hostages, who was jumping to his feet and somehow had a wand in his hand. Wes was blasted over the counter and Carter had

a split second to glimpse a trail of scarlet liquid before a similar curse came flying at him, this time for his head. He ducked just in time, rolling out of the way behind a column. There was a heartbeat of silence, after which he tried craning his head around the corner only to pull it back in sharply as a third curse, this one a venomous green, shot at him. The spell had come from one of the offices. He directed his own wand at several potted plants that lined the wall and flicked it, sending them smashing into the glass where he hoped the man was taking cover. While they were in the air he made a low sweeping gesture, pushing the hostages against the wall and out of harms way. He had the insane desire to laugh as one of the more rotund tellers tumbled like a beach ball out of the way. Deciding his best course of action was a strong offensive, he rolled out of his hiding spot and jumped to his feet. Trusting his training as he ran forward, he blocked several more streaks of light and dodged the others, not truly knowing what curse they all were. A few knives, conjured from nowhere, hurtled at him but he directed them into a wall before they could do any harm. His target was in the third office from the right, one of the few that had survived his potted plant attack. The door suddenly shut as he ran forward, and he could hear the man magically seal it so it would not open, no matter how much force Carter applied. Instead, he blasted a hole through the glass wall with his wand and dove through. Something hit him in the back as he fell, knocking him into the ground much harder than he meant to and he felt the air leave his lungs. He tried to roll over but suddenly felt himself thrown to the wall, pinned by several pieces of glass from the hole he had just made. Perhaps his diving into a small room with a violent wizarding criminal wasnt the best idea after all. Of course this thought only ran through his head after he was stuck to the wall. His opponent was just mouthing the word to some other sinister spell when the desk sprang to life and crashed into him, pinning him to the door. One of the legs was on the mans wrist, causing him to drop his wand in agony. A second later, the rest of the glass wall shattered and Wes hobbled in. One hand clutched his side where a lot of blood seemed to be flowing from, while the

other held his wand aloft, pointing it at the desk. He kicked the mans wand away before releasing the table. The man slumped to the floor to grasp at his own injured wrists. Carter was let down to the floor considerably more gently, the shards holding him up dissolving into a fine mist as they released him. He picked his own wand off the floor and pointed it at the man. The true bank robber had made himself as normal looking as possible. There was nothing to identify him as a wizard, except for the wand. He had curly brown hair and pale skin. His blazer and collared shirt were average in the extreme, and the pants he wore nothing special. Anyone would suspect he was just a regular guy. His get up made for the perfect camouflage in a group of hostages, simply making him look like a guy stopping by for some errands. Of course, that was the point. Robes sprang from Wess wand, binding the mans arms behind his back, which were then bound with traditional handcuffs magically enhanced so as to be tamper-proof. Without his wand, he was at their mercy. He was forced to his feet and shoved through the gaping chasm where an attractive glass wall had so recently been. None of his former hostages said anything as he was led past, simply staring in openmouthed wonder and confusion. That was generally the normal persons reaction to their first experience with magic. They couldnt do much more than stare though as Carters spell that had moved them out of harms way also kept them glued to the wall. Again, there was that urge to laugh when he saw the same pudgy man was stuck upside down, having been mid roll when hitting the wall. They took the man outside, pushing past the other police officers and made their way toward Wess car. Several men tried to talk to them but they were waved off by Carters scowl. Once they were clear, he let the S.W.A.T. team enter the building and secure it, then had them wait in the lobby with the rest of the hostages. Wes had bore up reasonably well as they made the short walk to the car with the prisoner, but Carter could sense his discomfort. The Slashing Spell had left a deep gouge in his side, but he didnt want to attract the attention of the ambulance waiting in the other corner of the lot, so he stood straight and tried to fight then pain. As soon as they got the prisoner into the car, which was complicated by the

fact that he bumped his head on the door frame two or three times, Wes sagged against the door and gestured to Carter. First, he checked the cut, making sure it was indeed from a Slashing Spell. Some curses caused worse problems if you tried to fix them like you would others. Thankfully, it did appear to be the simple one, so Carter traced it with his wand, all while muttering to himself. The blood stopped flowing altogether and the skin knitted back into a seamless whole. Wes was breathing a good deal easier by the time Carter was done. With a final intonement of, Tollerus, to remove all the stains in the white linen, Wes was all good to go. Carter was about to walk around the car jump in the passenger seat when Wes asked him, Forgetting something? With a yelp Carter ran back into the lobby of the bank, where the confused hostages sat with the droned S.W.A.T. officers milling around them with a glazed look on their faces. Eyes on me people, he said, releasing everyone from his influence. They all stuttered like the original robber as they came out of it. The guy in the red jacket was currently curled on the floor whimpering, but Carter ignored him before he continued, Youve all been subject to an extremely traumatic afternoon and Im going to make it a little easier for you. If you could just look at me for a few seconds Ten minutes later, he was back in the Camaro speeding towards the field office with his older partner driving and the bank robber sitting in the back groaning about one thing or another. Itd taken longer than usual to perform the complicated bit of spellwork it took to remove several peoples memory of the event or of being droned and replace it with a new one of a completely mundane, and nonmagical version of a bank heist. They couldnt be allowed to keep their memories of the wizarding fight, it was just too dangerous. Instead, they were all now convinced that the man in the red jacket, who would eventually be relocated by someone in the agency, had stormed in and taken them all hostage, during which a S.W.A.T. unit composed of the men Carter had droned had stormed in and saved them. Simple enough and very believable.

The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins as they drove back to the office in silence. Carter didnt expect Wes to compliment him on a job well done, a least in his own opinion, but his partner didnt say a single word at all the entire ride home. He felt like a little kid excitedly rehashing the story of how he had kicked a soccer goal over and over. While kids normally had their retellings patiently listened to by loving parents, Carter had Wes, who remained stonily silent throughout and rebuffed the conversation with an absence of talk. He was fairly put out when they arrived at the office, despite the many pats on the back and congratulations he got from those who were still there, but it was Wess praise he really wanted. Finally, after the robber was booked and someone elses problem and while Carter was busy filling out the required report of the events, Wes walked by his desk and clapped him on the shoulder, muttering, Good job today, do the same tomorrow, before moving on, leaving Carter to say thanks to empty air.