Chapter 1

They say your high school years are the best of your life, you're supposed to cherish them, party it up, date, and be dumb. They may say that, but I say to hell with that. If the best years of my life are going to be filled with a building always reeking of BO and having to deal with writing essays every week, then I'd hate to see what the rest of my life will look like.

Today's a new day, it could be special. Maybe today will be different?

As soon as I step foot into the school, I get hit in the face by BO, and I wonder why I even hope for change anymore. Sighing, I continue farther into the building, but stop when I see the spirit week posters hanging from the ceiling. It is bad enough the smell alone gives me a headache, but the pep rally that will interrupt the middle of our day will only make it worse. I stand to the side of the walking traffic debating my options. Stay here and attend the pep rally, as well as take a Calc test, of which, I know damn well I will fail, or go to the library and study my ass off, then return during lunch and make up the test, successfully skipping the pep-rally and having my head crammed with formulas that would save my math grade.

"Aw fuck this," I mutter, spinning on my heel and walking back out the doors. I pass my friend, Faith, and she smiles.

"Asta! Where you goin'?" She pulls me to the side by the elbow, her expression worried.

"I'm skipping first. Gonna go chill at the library for a bit, try to cram for the math test." I shrug, adjusting my bag. "I'll be back after lunch, I promise!"

"Have fun!" She smacks my shoulder playfully. "You do know you'll have to make it up, right?"

I laugh. "Bro, that's the point!" I say as I back away from her, my hands in the air, a smile on my face. She rolls her eyes, grinning. I turn and exit the building into the parking lot. I step out into the aisle and narrowly avoid getting hit by a poor freshman in his car, and head over to my car.

I had received the car, lovingly named 'Beige Bertha' from my parents after my grandma, who was the previous owner, had passed. Mom and Dad gave me a choice: pay for the car at half value from them, or buy my own damn car. I chose to buy grandma's car because I knew it had decent mileage and not too much wear-and-tear on it. It also had small reminders of my grandma in it, something a random used car from a car lot wouldn't have.

As I approach Bertha, I am hit with the odd feeling of being watched. I walk in between my car and the neighboring one, and my heart skips a beat as I catch a glimpse of a man, his eyes an odd gold and his hair long and dark, looking at me through my backseat window.

I do a double-take, trying to figure out who the hell is in my car, but all I see is my reflection looking back at me, panic-stricken.

I shake it off, chalking it up to lack of sleep. Cause everyone knows, hallucinating is something to be taken lightly!

Getting into my car, I throw my backpack onto the passenger seat and put the car into reverse. Once behind me is clear, I pull out, then drive out of the parking lot.

About five minutes later, I get to the old library in the center of town. Parking behind the old building, I check to make sure no one is watching before getting out. Because I live in such a small town, everything is everyone's business, and therefore everyone knows each other. All it takes is one gossipy mom taking her kids to the candy store across the street for the whole town to know I skipped class.

I grab my bag, quietly close the door, then manually lock it. I check the handle twice, then head inside, head low, and hood up.

The library is set up with the basement as a children's section, with study rooms and computers towards the back of the basement. On the second floor, to the right of the stairs, is the teen section, then on the opposite side are the DVD and CD rooms, then the computer rooms. The adult section is under the stairs, taking up the space between the other sections. I walk up to the third floor, where all the old, dusty, forgotten about books reside.

It was originally going to be a sort of museum, but it, unfortunately, turned into a room that teens go to fool around in. Besides that, it has become a catch-all for broken and forgotten things, but I have come to see it as a second home. My dumb-ass ex had been the one who had shown it to me, but his intention for doing so was not to show me a quiet place to study.

Closing the door behind me, I weave my way through the labyrinth of bookshelves, display cases, and broken chairs to one corner of the room, barren aside from a sorry-looking table and chair. The usual pile of unsorted books lies on the table, along with another pile next to the little sitting arrangement. I push the stack on the table gently aside and pull out my work. I make it maybe halfway through my calc homework and before I lose concentration, and my eyesight goes wonky. It begins to turn fuzzy, so I put my pencil down and rub my eyes.

When I open them, they feel a little better. Probably strained them too hard. I need a break.

I turn to look at the books. Beginning with the pile next to me, I scan the titles, though nothing really stands out to me. They all sound slightly boring, and all the same books in the same order as they always are. One man, one home is one title, and I pick it up, finding it to be an autobiography of a man who used to own a logging company. Another reads Plats, and another reads Birth and Death Records for Toccoa County. The entire stack on the table consists of these types of books, so I turn to the stack on the floor. Skimming the titles, they all sound bland and old. Records of landowners make up most of the stack until about the third from the bottom book catches my eye. A dark-colored book that I don't recognize with golden wispy and block handwriting on the spine, reading: The Art and History of Ancient Magic.

In all the months of coming up here, I have never seen that book in the stack. It may be possible that I just hadn't noticed it, and it had been there all along, but I don't think so.

Oh, what the hell. I needed a break, and here it is.

"Seems legit," I mutter, bending over and coaxing it from the stack. The book feels heavier than I had originally thought it would, and the part of the cover that had been exposed is covered in dust, so I must have just overlooked it before.

Setting it carefully onto the table, I crack it open, and a piece of thick paper sticks up between the pages. Plucking out the paper, I unfold it and read:

To my dear son, for your unquenchable thirst for knowledge!

Aww, that's sweet. A parent supporting their child's...odd interests. Magic is considered a healthy interest, right? I reach to turn the page but I suddenly hear the door of the top floor opening. My heart races, but lucky the piles of junk and broken shelves seclude my corner. It gives me a few more seconds to quickly stash my things into my bag and hide under the table.

Things shift and scrape slightly, and I take that opportunity to scramble from my cover under the table to next to a display case. I hear a breath to my right, so I move farther left. As I shift, I freeze and my heart drops when I hear the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking.

Oh god.

I peep from my position in the junk to see the person from the waist down. He wears pressed black suit pants and shined shoes, suggesting someone more than a security guard. In his hands he holds a black pistol, his hand on the trigger, meaning one of two things: either he doesn't know the first thing about gun safety, or he means to harm or kill. Considering their suit and gold watch, I think he has enough money for gun lessons. He slowly gets closer to me and I realize I've come to a dead-end in this maze of junk.

I watch him turn towards me, and I freeze, praying the shadows I hide in are enough that he can't see me. Luckily, he turns when the sound of heels comes clicking down the hall.

"You said someone was up here?" A woman marches into the room, annoyed. "No one has passed me to go up here all day." The old woman crosses her arms, the creases on her face deepening with her frown.

"Yes. A girl, the school said she wasn't there all day."

All day? It's only got to be about eleven. No way they could be talking about me, although there isn't anyone else up here...

"Do you know a name?" She asks, and he crosses the room to intercept her from walking any deeper into the room. They stand watching each other for a moment, and I take that opportunity to scramble out from my dead-end and over to a nearby display case filled with boxes.

"Yes, I think she's a Yertley?" The man says, his voice quiet. The woman rubs her chin, eyeing him.

Shit. They are definitely talking about me. I'm screwed.

"Her parents are the local hairstylists." The woman says, slowly. "She's no trouble maker."

"Unfortunately she hasn't been at school, but I'll see if I can find her." He says, moving forward slightly. I move about five feet over, so close to freedom.

"I'll-" The woman tries to say, but he cuts her off with a wave of his hand.

"No, thank you. It'll be fine. Besides, I'm sure you're a very busy woman, someone so fetching as yourself. I wouldn't want to interrupt anything you were doing."

The woman nods. "Yes, thank you. Good luck with your search. Lock up when you're done." She turns and leaves the room, putting a key into the door and closing it behind her.

He takes his gun out again and moves towards the spot I had just vacated. As he leans over to check behind a cabinet and I run. He shouts and gives chase. I manage to get through the door but as I slam the door I catch him in the door, causing him to drop the gun beside my shoe and withdraw his hand. I close the door and lock it, leaving him yelling and banging on the door. Without thinking, I grab the gun and put it in my bag, but not before turning on the safety.

I drop the key and put my hood on, then rush down the steps and out the front door. I run to my car, my heart going crazy. I don't even bother buckling up as I throw the car into drive. I drive over to the credit union right across the street, parking where I'm hidden by the building but can still see the library.

I wait for him to come out, but I look away when my phone buzzes. I pull it out and see about 50 missed messages from my friend, along with 7 missed calls from her.

To top it off, my clock reads 6:56. The man wasn't lying.

On autopilot, I call mom.

"Hello?" My dad picks up instead.

"Hi grandpa, I'm looking for dad," I say, trying to muster the best everything-is-okey-dokey tone, even though everything is not okey-dokey because the man just came out the front doors, looking furious. His red hair blows gently in the wind, but as he runs his fingers through it he manages to look less crazy.

"Asshole," he laughs, "What do you need?" What do I need? I need answers, I need to get home. I need to figure out why he's going to the dumpster enclosure? The man looks around to see if anyone is watching before closing himself in the little cubby.

"I j-just wanted to-to-to check-in and uh-" I try to speak but my stutter refuses to chill. If I don't chill, dad's gonna know something's wrong. As I take a deep breath, pressure builds in my ears. I yawn to pop them, slightly annoyed.

"Hold on kiddo you're cutting out." I begin to wonder if the man was some crackhead who mugged a rich guy and thought he'd have fun tonight.

I shiver at the thought.

"Honey? Are you OK?" Dad asks, his tone concerned.

"Yes. I just wan-n-nted to s-s-say that I've been, uh, studying and and and I lost track of time. I'll be back about ten, OK?"

"Alright, I think a dinner alone will be nice for your mother and I. Love you, kiddo."

"Love you too, dad." A feeling comes over me, and my heart drops at the thought of this being the last time I can say that to him. He hangs up first, but I stay to listen to the end beep, wishing I knew what was happening. Wishing I could just ask him to come to get me, to protect me.

I exhale slowly through my nose, looking at the trash area once more before reversing out of the lot and heading to Kurger Bing, in search of the meaning of all this.

Heading inside, I go up to the counter where my best friend is taking a man's order. I wait patiently until they are done, then I take my turn at the counter.

"Where were you?" She whisper-shouts, a concerned look on her face.

"I have the wildest story. I was on the top floor of the library, right? And my eyes start to hurt so I take a break from working and then this man comes in, with a gun-"

"A gun?! Dude, you were on the top floor, right? They said they'd be cracking down on trespassers up there."

"I fiddle with my bracelet, watching her reaction. "But-"

"Bro," She pauses, "What if, now hang with me," she puts her hands out in defense, "What if you were abducted by aliens?"

I snort. "Yea, and they probed my asshole." I start laughing and she does too.

"But seriously girlie, I was worried! And besides, security guards have guns, and they use them to keep their buildings secure." Oh, how she would react when she learned I slammed his hand in a door and took it from him. "Seriously, though, you had me worried."

Frustration wells into my chest. Why won't she listen?

"I know, I'm sorry." I rub the back of my neck, not looking her in the eyes.

"Have you eaten? Hold on..." she taps on the screen a few times, then swipes her own card. She hands me a receipt and a number. "On me."

"Faith..."

"Nope. No arguments. I love you, but we got a line."

I look behind me and see multiple people coming through the door. She hands me a drink cup and I go and fill it to the brim with water. I am surprised to find I gulp it down by the time I make it to my table. I leave my phone and keys at the table, then go and refill my cup, and on my way back to my seat I resist the urge to drink myself to death. I sit and watch the basketball game on the store tv while I wait for my food. Eventually, Faith brings it out, and she hands it to me.

"Extra pickles." She winks. "I know you like it that way."

"Thank you so much. I just wish I could remember what happened..."

"Hey, I'll text you later. I got orders in the drive. My coworkers are being lazy."

"Alright, I love you! See you later."

"Love you too! Take care of yourself, don't die on the way home!" And with that, she walks off to go back to work. I scarf down my food, wishing that she'd have listened.

Casting a sideways glance at her working in the kitchen, I leave the restaurant.

About halfway home, my ears feel pressure built up again. I yawn, popping them, but they go back to how they were. I yawn a second time, this time successful at popping them, but they aren't the only thing that pops. My car starts rumbling and the engine snaps off. I drift over to the side of the road and come to a stop. The entire car shuts off. The lights, the AC. I even have to manually pop my door lock.

Crap.

I pull out my phone to try to call mom, but it's dead too.

"Great," I mutter to myself, "This is exactly how people die in horror movies." Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I look down both directions of the road for any sign of headlights, but unfortunately, the road to either side is dark. Tired and aggravated, I sigh in defeat. I note the fact that it is 9:30 pm on a Wednesday in the middle of September, and sadly that makes my hopes for anyone driving by quickly diminish.

I lean my head back onto the seat and close my eyes, trying to figure out what to do next. Although I have homework I could be doing, I don't really want to do it. I would do it during my first-period study hall tomorrow, but that is if I could ever get home. I grab my backpack, originally going for my notebook, but pull out the mysterious library book instead.

I must have stuffed it into my bag on accident, I think. I may as well read it while I'm here.

I open the first page and begin to read. As I read, I see that the words are written very strangely, with wispy and block-like text.

The beginning chapter is background into the history of magic. After skimming about the Vanir caring for the earth, I flip through the book's thick parchment pages, reading snippets of pages and growing more intrigued. I shift it on my lap and continue flipping through, but about halfway through, a paper falls loose. I sit the book down on the dashboard and pick up the folded paper.

It feels old, but not too crumbly. I unfold it and find inside rough words etched into the paper. It reads:

Back to the world from which I came,

Take me back now, once again.

I flip it over and then back to the front, not finding anything on the other side.

"Back to the world from which I came, take me back now, once again? What is that for?" I mutter, but my wonder is suddenly caught by a flash of light that catches my eye. I look up in time to find a green-blue cloud of mist glowing in an odd light as it envelops my car. I begin to panic, but just as suddenly the mist appeared, it vanishes, and the stars go back to twinkling down at me.

More panic hits me, but it turns into damn-near a heart attack as the piece of paper bursts into flames in my hand, reducing the paper to ash. I fall out of my car and into the road, scrambling away from it.

No. Freaking. Way.

My mind is racing, and I pick myself up off of the road.

This all has to be a figment of my imagination. It has to be. This doesn't happen. Perhaps it was just spontaneous combustion?

Maybe just my lack of sleep? I frantically try to find a logical solution to the craziness, but then another thought hits me. Maybe the book is magic? Maybe that was a...spell?

An oncoming car pulls me out of my thoughts, and I stand beside my car and shakily wave them down. The black SUV pulls over behind my car and a large man steps out of the passenger door. The bright headlights in my face block my view from seeing who it is. The figure looks slightly tall, and the closer they come toward me, the more their face comes into view. Walking toward me with a stride in his step is...

"Holy-" I feel my eyes widen as I see who it is:

Robert Downey Jr.