Quest (OLD: the new version MIGHT be posted shortly)

Chapter 2-Jae

Peter was leaning against the side of the old shoe factory as I walked over. We were going to the most secretive bar for magical people, which was one of the only places we could talk openly about anything. It wasn’t just the magicians that were being oppressed. Everything was slowly turning into a tight-fisted, all out war against anything not normal. Soon, even the truth-seers would be banished, since seeing magic and being magic could be grouped together.

“Jae, where’ve you been?” he asked, standing up.

“My dad’s been trying to teach me the ropes of being a trapper,” I told him, rolling my eyes. My father would not accept the fact that I wanted to be a politician.

“Well, hopefully that won’t be a problem for you, in the future,” Peter said carefully. What he meant was: hopefully we won’t have trappers in the future.

“I agree,” I told him vehemently. We walked down the side ally and knocked on the door of the bar. As I touched the metal I could feel something surge through me, probably checking my intentions for entering. It happened every time, but I was always allowed in. The first few times I’d been worried, since I wasn’t magical, but the elderly lady behind the bar informed me that everyone was allowed in her bar, as long as they were there for the right reasons.

“Hey! Peter!” a couple of men from the table closest to the door greeted. Peter waved as he and I walked to a back table, where the bar matron had already placed a pitcher of spiced cider and a couple glasses. I pulled out some money and handed it to her.

“So what’s new with you, Jae?” Peter asked, taking a large gulp of cider. Apparently the natural herbs and spices in it helped boost magic, but I just liked it for the taste.

“Someone crashed my party last night,” I told him, pouring myself a glass. “She’s a magician, and I don’t think she gave me her real name.”

“What’d she look like? Maybe I know her; I’ve been around, you know.”

“Dark,” I finally said, thinking back to the girl. “She had dark skin, black hair, and dark brown eyes.”

“Gypsy-like, would you say?” Peter asked. I gave him a quizzical look. “Dark and sensual, I mean, with eyes that look like spicy coffee and thick black hair that just seems right with the mocha colored skin.”

“Um, yeah, that’s it,” I said, kind of surprised. At least he seemed to know who she was. “She said her name was ‘Amelia’, but I highly doubt it. She knew I was a truth-seer.”

“Yeah, well, there’s only one gypsy, unless you count her dad, but he doesn’t look it. I’m sure it’s not her, though.”

“Why not, you described her pretty accurately,” I said.

“’Cause she’s in the Hole as of about a year ago.”

“Ya talking ‘bout the gypsy?” a bearded man asked from the bar.

“Yeah, Jae reckons he’s seen her around, but she’s in the Hole,” Peter told him.

“Nah, I hear a rumor that she busted out,” the man informed the bar at large.

“Yeah,” a little girl agreed from beside her mother. “Last night she ran right by me, and a guard was chasing her.”

“I was a walk’n home an’ saw ‘er jump a fence int’ a party,” one of the guys by the door proclaimed.

“That was my party,” I told him. “I just didn’t know it was her.” At that everyone started talking to their own groups again, mostly speculating about how she escaped.