Nights at Newtnose

***

At this moment, Violet and Charlotte have found their first major clue regarding the strange illness which is affecting witches at Newtnose: they discovered a small, half-moon shaped rune inscribed upon the wrists of Angelica and Nichole. In this chapter, Violet and Charlotte have a falling out before an erotic encounter with the languorous, lecherous knight who guards the library.

***

Nights at Newtnose Ch. 04: Into the Reliquary

It was the next morning, and I had a free period in our dormitory before Cursery in the afternoon. I sat in a plush, green armchair looking at the plain sheet of parchment Stanon had given me, feeling dumb.

"Just, ugh," and I tossed it to the ground.

"Why wouldn't he give you better instructions?" asked Violet. She slipped her robes over her head and shook her hips. She slid her feet into small, black shoes. "What's with all the intrigue?"

I stared at the parchment. "I don't know. I don't know him at all." I held the small bottle in front of the flickering light of our fireplace. "He said I needed to read that parchment somewhere relaxing."

"Maybe at the baths?"

"I hate baths."

"On the grounds?"

"It's cold."

Violet looked at me. "What?" I said.

"If you can't relax in a specific place, maybe it's more of a mental thing."

I cocked my head and looked at her. How did I ever pay to come to this ridiculous school, anyway? Memories of sandy streets, slumbering drunkards in gutters and thirsty cats to lick their spittle, thick and hot coastal breezes through my hair and shrieks in the night all pawed through my mind. I clicked my tongue.

"Do you have any werewolf hair?" I asked.

She frowned. "Not much, it's like ten weight, per."

"Yeah, that's why I don't have any. If you give me five, I can get you a hundred weight. Probably double that."

She looked at me, incredulous. "How?"

I gestured at the dormitory. "I had to pay for this somehow," and I rummaged through my bag for some thin kashmiri parchment, bottled slug slime and moon tallow.

"Just one hair," and I stuck out my hand. "It'll be good for both of us."

Violet searched through her dresser and handed me a long, slim vial filled with a small tuft of grey hair. I retrieved a single rough strand and placed it with the other ingredients into my mortar and pestle. A quick squeeze of half-dried dung beetle and a horrible black smoke filled the room.

"The fuck, Charlotte," and Violet shied away with her arm over her nose, shutting her eyes tightly.

I laughed. "Just wait for it."

"Gods it smells horrible."

The thick smoke smelled like moldy mint and burnt garbage. I waved my wand through the heavy clouds and they slowly turned a thin, shimmering green, smelling of squeezed lemons and fresh pine instead.

"Open your eyes," I told Violet. I waved my hands in the air. "Open your heart," and I laughed.

She looked at the smoke and sniffed it, then looked at my mortar and pestle: a droplet of shimmering, amber fluid sat at its bottom. I dipped my quill into it and scrawled several runes on the kashmiri parchment.

"Those aren't in the standard set," said Violet.

"Nope," and I rolled the small square of parchment up into a long, slim cylinder. I licked the outer edge and sealed it to the roll, twirling it in my fingertips. "He wants me relaxed," I said. "So, he gets relaxed," and I flicked my wand at the edge of the roll to light it, and inhaled.

I leaned back in the chair as a gentle tingle rushed through my nerves. I looked at Violet and laughed at her consternation.

"Did you sell

essense

to pay for Newtnose?"

I laughed again, swishing the smoking roll at her. "This isn't even adjacent to essensual magic. It's more like sweetleaf, just made of runes rather than water and sunlight. Though, if you ask me, there isn't much a difference," and I offered it to her.

She eyed the roll suspiciously. "Will I be okay for class?"

"The runes mean:

body

,

mind

,

intertwine

, and

lift

. This kashmiri stuff is just to make it smoother."

Violet gave me that same look. "You'll be fine," I said.

She puffed hesitantly. We'd only known each other a little over a month, but I felt like she trusted me immensely. It made me somewhat uncomfortable.

She sat on the chair next to me and looked around, a light smile on her face. Her eyes were somewhat lidded, but she looked at me clearly. "Yeah," she said. "This is nice."

"Yeah," and my voice trailed off. I looked out the open window: the sun was shining clear and bright through dew on the glass, and a cool, gentle breeze filled the room. "You know," I said, "we didn't really get to talk after last night."

Violet leaned back in her chair and puffed awkwardly at the slowly smoking roll. "No, we didn't."

"I'm worried about Angelica and Nichole."

Violet rubbed her arm. "Yeah. Angelica said she'd show me what she

did

to Nichole."

I thought of the small rune on Angelica's and Nichole's wrists. But I also thought about her fucking herself on the chair in front of Violet.

"You think she meant the rune?" I offered lightly.

Violet was quiet for a few moments and closed her eyes. "Yes and no."

"She isn't in my runes class with Stanton," I said. "Is she in yours?"

"Not with Quip, no."

"I'd be surprised if she could distill that medium," and I eyed the silver cassowary inlaid in our dormitory wall. It pecked at the shelf above our fireplace.

"I think she meant, well, the other stuff," said Violet.

I scratched my knee. I thought of Violet's hand on her thigh while Angelica played with herself. I thought of her obvious but hesitant excitement at kneading Angelica's ass as the conjured cock fucked her.

"You didn't charm her," I said. "You said it yourself. Even if you had, remember what Quip said," and I laughed. "Angelica and Nichole are definitely fucking."

Violet took another pull from the kashmiri parchment and handed it to me. Her fingers were long and delicate. She looked at me. "She said something else, too."

My heart skipped a beat. I took a long, full puff from the parchment and set it on the table between us. "We don't have to talk about that," I said. "It's okay."

Violet was beautiful. I'd never had a thing for women, but I could understand why someone would with her. She was petite, but still curvier than most. More importantly, she was smart and kind, too. But I thought about the library and Angelica being

there

, and I wondered if that's all there really was to it all.

"You've never explored anything with a girl?" asked Violet.

I shrugged. "I mean," and I shifted in my seat, facing her. "I've always been drawn to men. I want to nuzzle into their arms and put my head on their chests. Women don't really, well," and I flexed my thin arm. "There's nothing there," and we both laughed.

"Yeah," said Violet. "I get it."

"But," and I looked at her briefly. "Last night

was

kind of hot. Alarming, sure, but she almost got me to pull her hair."

Violet smiled wryly. I wondered if she was thinking of Angelica's ass, what it felt like on her palms. But I also knew she felt guilty about it all, and wondered if maybe she was thinking of what

my

ass felt like, instead. "I wish we could talk to her," she said. "We really should. I feel bad."

"Same," and I tapped my wand on my leg, thinking. "This Stanton stuff is mixed up with those two, I'm sure of it."

"You think he did something?"

"Well, not necessarily. Like I said, we got to talk a fair bit, but everything is so muddled with him. I don't think he'd harm a student."

"But you aren't certain."

"No," I said. "I'm really not."

I looked at the piece of parchment at my feet and picked it up. I unrolled it in front my face, not sure what to expect.

"So he wants you to read it," said Violet, and she leaned over to inspect the scroll.

It remained blank as ever. "I don't know what you want from me," I told it.

To my astonishment, a thin red scribble slowly appeared: "You could start with your name."

I stared with a start at the scrawl upon the parchment. The hum of kashmiri magic vibrated within my toes and fingertips. Violet and I looked at eachother.

"Is this thing

agentic

?" asked Violet. "These were supposed to have all been burned ages ago."

"My name's Charlotte," I told it. "What's yours?"

Violet slapped the parchment out of my hands. "Charlotte, no. Absolutely

not

."

The paper quivered on the ground, and a soft voice filled the air. "Those who seek, seek that which is sought-" and Violet kicked it towards our fireplace.

"Come off it, Violet," I said.

"

No

," she said. "This is dark. This is

old

. They don't have souls like portraits do."

I waved my hand in the air. "It's parchment. It's magic just as much as the runes you just smoked."

She crossed her arms. "Okay, lets take a step back. Stanton gave you this."

"Yeah."

"And he gave you a bottle of mysterious medium which, at this point, you haven't figured out."

"Well, the ingredients and proportions-"

"And now two girls have dropped dead unconscious, both of whom we don't currently know the state. And the runic medium you found

also

was of a making you couldn't place."

"Violet-"

"And this

thing

is talking to us," and she kicked it again. "The Consortium saw fit to burn these, all of them. Runes don't want anything from us. Portraits want things, sure, but they're bound to their original humanity. Bound to their

souls

. This is," and she paused. "This isn't bound to anything."

I breathed out and leaned back in my chair. "Look," I said. "We don't know what happened to Nichole and Angelica. We don't know what that rune is, we don't know what's in this stupid bottle, but we

do

know that Stanton gave me this parchment."

"And why you?" she asked.

I frowned. "What does

that

mean?"

"This all started after you fucked him. Famous, illustrious Professor with a shimmering public profile, connected to one of the oldest wizarding families on the continent. Then a herd of trolls rough up his office, you secret out of there alone, and how many times have you bitched to me about him avoiding you after class?"

"You don't understand," I said. "There's something between us. It's confusing and complicated, but it's real."

"And that makes it even worse, Charlotte."

Something in flight flapped by our window. Its shadow flittered over Violet's face as she looked at me with intense concern.

"You don't need to worry about me," I said. "I'll get into the Reliquary somehow, get that stupid book, and I know that parchment can help me."

"Why?" asked Violet. "Why do you need to even do this

assignment

? Just forget about this. We'll talk to Angelica and Nichole. If this rune thing keeps happening, the Professors will figure it out. We don't need to be involved."

"Damnit Violet," and I walked to the parchment. I picked it up and pointed it at her. "I came to this school to

learn

-"

"Then go to class," and she raised her voice. "How many rules have you already broken? The Witchwood, being in the library after hours,

fucking a Professor

. And you just casually implied you're going to pay me back for the werewolf hair by selling unlicensed medical runery. And to who? Students? You're going to get expelled over some dumb errand for someone you barely know. I don't want that for you."

"What I do isn't up for you to decide," and I gripped the parchment tightly in my hand. "You don't know where I'm from, what I've been through. This parchment, that dumb bottle? This is how I even

got

here. Do you think Stanton would go to the Professors with this if it's as dangerous as you say?" and I shook the parchment in the air. "No," I said. "He wouldn't. There's something more going on and he wants my help. I need to use this thing, and I need to get that book from the Reliquary."

Violet huffed. "I don't want you to get to hurt."

"I can't control that," and I looked away for a moment. "That's just life."

She frowned. "If that's how you see it, then fine." She grabbed her messenger bag and slung it over her shoulder. "But I'm not going to watch you flail around like this."

She left our room. I sat back onto the chair and unrolled the parchment.

"You happy?" I asked.

Several moments went by. I wondered if it would respond, but slowly in glistening red ink a response appeared: "To be happy. Oh, to be just that."

*****

"And then she just started to, well,

play

with herself," I told the paper. "In front of us. Then I spied the rune on her wrist."

I had been talking to the parchment for nearly an hour. About Professor Stanton and the bottle, about Nichole and Angelica. I had discovered that it could only speak if rolled up, and preferred to do so.

"I see," it said quietly in a voice that was neither feminine nor masculine. "Curious."

I nodded. After a moment, I realized it couldn't see me.

"Yeah," I said. "So this rune, it's a half-moon. Both Angelica and Nichole were unconscious, but Angelica did wake up in the library."

"Yes, that's also curious. With a sufficiently powerful medium, any image drawn will be magically akin to that which it represents."

I thought for a moment. "Maybe Angelica woke up at night because that's when the moon is out?"

"I would like to agree with that interpretation," and the parchment paused. "Furthermore, it would explain why your friend's spell was attracted to Angelica."

"How so?"

"The moon pulls the oceans towards it. Perhaps the rune pulls magic towards it as well."

I grinned. "That does make sense," and I thought for a few moments myself. Runes

do

channel magic of course, but to do so for a spell not even directed at it...

"And what of the castle," I asked the parchment. "The Reliquary."

"Those that guard," it said, "guard their charge closest," and I was surprised to see it unroll itself. What looked like the sun casting a stark angular shadow from a stone wall scrawled roughly upon the parchment. I thought of the thin, dark line behind Ser Allonso's portrait.

"So the Reliquary is behind the librarian," and I smiled again. "I knew it."

"What you've deigned, you've done so on your own. However," and it paused, rolling itself back up.

I waited. "What?"

"You mentioned

Effigy Esoterica

. This is an old work. I question what avails you, there."

"How so? Stanton needs me to read it."

"That I do not doubt. I doubt the motive. Is the art of effigy construction taught in your time?"

"Not really," I said. "But I've read a bit."

"They are precarious things. They are intended to burn, and burn with them that which they contain. Your strange medium, decanted by your Professor: if you would like, do place a blot upon this parchment. I question its construction."

I grabbed the bottle, but I paused before unstoppering it. I thought of Violet's warnings about the parchment.

"Why do you hesitate," it asked.

I frowned. "How do you know I'm hesitating?"

Another several moments passed. "Considering the comments of your friend," it said, "and the dubious nature of the challenge your Professor has given you, it would be wise to hesitate. It is true, however, that I am as your friend says:

unbound

. But nonetheless I

am

bound to this parchment. So I want something from you."

The parchment was rolled up on my lap, cool and light. But the air around it felt heavier, charged, almost as if in anticipation.

"What do you want," I asked.

"I believe your Professor understands that agentic parchments are not all alike. I think he sees a similarity between myself and you. I want to

understand

. I cannot be in the world as you can. My mind is all there is. So, please, if you would give me just a drop of that strange fluid. I dare to wonder if it is not the same as that which bore the runes upon your associates."

The thought had crossed my mind of course, but I was afraid of what that would mean. I wanted to trust Stanton, but if I couldn't, I'd best know that.

I unstoppered the bottle and let drip a single drop of the purple, heavy medium upon the parchment. The drop fizzled at its edges as it dried. The paper hummed and, slowly, the drop of medium disappeared entirely.

"Saltpeter," it said. "Mercury, yes, of course. But this so called morning dew," and I heard the sound of paper rustling, as if the the parchment were scratching its chin. "This is no morning dew."

"But I watched him

put

morning dew into it."

"Yes, it would appear so. I do not blame you. I understand the confusion, though. Let me help you," and under the word 'you' appeared a small, slightly opaque drop of fluid.

"Did you, what, spit that back out?"

"In so many words. Quick, touch it but do not taste it. Never taste such a thing."

I cautiously placed the tip of my finger upon the fluid. It was warm, slightly tacky. I smeared it between my thumb and index finger, finding it slippery.

"You're right," I said. "Not morning dew."

"No. This is saliva of incubi."

I looked at the glistening fluid as it slowly dried upon my fingers. "Incubi? They're in dreams if they're real at all. That doesn't make sense."

"No," said the parchment. "It would not. But they certainly are real. They are old, and old things are old for a critical reason: they

persist

."

I leaned back in my chair. I waved my wand at the saliva on my fingers and that thin film gathered in a small, oblong orb above the bottle. It descended, and the cork stopper sealed the bottle tight.

"So this is some spit of a borderline mythical creature," I said. "And I'm to find a book on effigies, which you say burn that which they contain."

"Yes."

"So we're going to burn an incubus."

"At this point, it could appear that way. I caution haste, however."

I sniffed. "If Stanton gave me this medium, with this ingredient, and gave me

you

to describe its contents to me, and furthermore told me to find a forbidden book on effigies, it means he trusts what I conclude by working with you."

"Potentially. You described to me your doubts regarding this Professor Stanton. I believe that this is incubus saliva, for I am old, and I persist. That is my use. But my knowledge is fallible. There are many things which came before my time and after it which magic has altered."

"Why do you think this is incubus spit, then?"

"Incubi and Succubi are not so different from humans, magically speaking. They are personifications of primal human desires, forbidden and thus amplified. You stated well yourself: they are in dreams. But are they merely

there

? Night sweats, nocturnal emissions, somnambulance... They are not so different, these two spaces. On the other hand, this saliva could also be a human's. It is has within it intense, old magic... An exceptionally gifted witch or wizard, perhaps; magic blurs these things."

I shifted in my seat, staring at the parchment. I then looked around the room: the lion on our wall licked its paw, and I wondered why it even did that. Did it feel it? What was in the walls and magic which let them work that way? If this medium had such a thing within it, and I was to burn an effigy infused with such a medium, what would burn?

Who

would burn?

*****

I walked into the Cursery dungeon somewhat hopeful: Angelica and Violet would both be there, and I hoped to smooth things over with each of them. I sat in my usual spot next to where Violet should be, but as the minutes grew closer to the start of class, some part of me realized neither were going to arrive.