Rise of the Night Witch

Chapter 2.1 - Klaus Kringle

Usually, our school cafeteria was a chatty place. Usually, people discussed Instagram fad, homework, or homecoming here. But today, silence reigned in place of gossip.

Summer Hill was a close-knit community. Even for a town used to weirdness, one couldn't just murder someone without attracting attention. Rumors of what happened to Mrs. Turner filled the uni cafeteria as I walked through it with cuttlefish soup and a New York-style bagel on her tray.

But I was safe now. I went shopping in nearby towns with Darcy's money and bought a Jörmungandr-shaped Viking bracelet wrought of pure iron. I proudly wore around my wrist against fairy-aligned demons like the Cad Goddeau. Just in case, I also got a crucifix in my bag against more Christian demons – aka devils - and a rabbit foot for general wards.

I also bought a dress like the one Darcy suggested. Horizontal stripes of alternating blue and white made it look like shimmering sea water while its wide, breezy nature and its lightweight fabric ensured I didn't sweat. It wasn't revealing, but more colorful than my usual sweaters. Downside: It made me visible. Lucy's group gave me snide looks and you can't believe how much I wish I had a bracelet against that.

My training was less fortunate. I couldn't move the pen farther than about twenty feet, though, on the plus side, I successfully flipped it more than five times in a row.

Simon arrived in a silent corner separated from the rest by two empty tables. He wore a dark grey turtleneck without food on his tray. Did he plan to eat at home? Or at all?

Neither of us spoke a word. Neither of us knew how to do it without being heard. How did Simon feel about last Friday? Did he get over it or was the powerlessness he experienced why he didn't eat? I had no idea how to even ask him without sounding awkward.

Siris, I thought. What am I allowed to say?

"Well," he said, "the rules of the Veil are something us spirits aren't allowed to share, but I can paraphrase them. One rule says that we can't allow the dissemination of information about the supernatural. However, information about the Erlking is already available to some people. You can talk about what's publicly known, but anything more is forbidden in a space like this."

A wrinkled piece of paper occupied Simon as he scribbled his wandering thoughts on the page.

With Siris' hint, Marissa had an idea of how to start the conversation without sounding awkward. "What have you found out about Mrs. Turner?"

"It's bad," he said, switching to a casual, businesslike tone. "She got a cocktail of every disease and then some. There's no way to cure her, but Dad said it's not infectious."

"Sorry to hear that," I said. If I only knew a less obvious answer. I wanted to speculate with him about causes, but how? How did I do that?

Simon put his pen away. "I need your help on an assignment," he said and revealed a written note. "Write what you have to say about the Erlking here. No-one can hear it. I'll burn the paper later, it's a text chat with maximum data security. If anyone asks, we're working on an assignment."

I nodded. Loving the idea, I grabbed the pen and wrote my first question."Cause for disease?"

"Dad thinks curse. Relatives got books that even Dad and Darce don't have time to read."

"Erlking Motives?"

"Dunno. Guesses?"

"Fame (maybe)? Heard supernaturals get power through awareness. Erlking Basement?"

"Dunno. Suspects?"

"Titania and him."

"Plan?"