A.SPECKHART | Book One

SCARE TACTICS 7.1

By mid-March, on the nightly news, it'd become commonplace for reems of names to be announced - convicted Mythicals. No matter if you'd registered your species, updated your ID, and always been an upstanding citizen, the police would find something to charge you with. Being anything other than Mortal was now suddenly a crime by default.

Hate group posters were plastered on almost every wall, phone box and lamp post around the city. The atmosphere was getting harder and harder to cope with. The air was thick with hatred.
Worst of all, my friends were in on it. Although Theresa hadn't entirely lost her senses and tried to sound as understanding as possible, she had still expressed that she'd 'rather avoid them' out of fear that some of 'them' were dangerous. Lindsay, however, did and said whatever her Daddy told her to. When he talked, her mouth moved. So long as she got her juicy monthly allowance, her political views were dictatable and seeing that her old man was a rich bigot, it was no surprise that he was halfway to becoming a full-blown fascist.

Increasingly, how I looked at my childhood best friend was growing negative. The woman she was seemed further and further from the person I found myself becoming. I'd wondered if maybe we wouldn't remain friends, but the thought of someone else leaving me was too terrifying to dwell on. My only friend who seemed to be acting remotely rational was Benjamin. We didn't talk much about the real world and politics; as literature buffs, we spent most of our time discussing fiction novels—fangirling other morally grey male leads. Still, he had expressed that he agreed with me. He couldn't fathom why everyone suddenly felt unsafe.

"It's not like they haven't always been around. I can't get my head around why people are suddenly sayin' "They're dangerous"." He'd air quoted in a mocking tone.

"Once again, humanity has proven that it fears anything it doesn't understand. It's as simple as that." I shrugged and pulled my coat on, preparing to leave campus—we'd planned to meet Lance in town for coffee.

"I reckon that makes us the dangerous ones, then." Benji hit the nail on the head—except for the part about me being part of that 'us.' "Wouldn't surprise me if Hawthorne was a Witch. That woman gives me the creeps." He shuddered humorously, mocking our wart-nosed Professor.

"Or a Demon!" I exaggerated. Our fit of laughter was interrupted when Benjamin's toothy grin vanished, and the cheer drained from his face. "What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Uh, you know what, Ana? Maybe it'd be quicker to go-" Benji grabbed my arm, "out the other gate?" and steered me away. But it was too late; I'd turned to look.

In two neat lines, on either side of the gate, were a row of tables—campaign stalls. They hadn't been there the day before or even that morning; they'd popped up during the first two lecture periods. However, what was most striking was what they were campaigning for. The banners read 'pro-mythical curfew' and 'keep our city safe'. The city Mayor had been trying to enforce a curfew on registered Mythicals to comfort the Mortal population. He'd preached that limiting who could be out and about past watershed would make 'people' feel safer. The whole idea seemed ludicrous to me for many reasons.

Despite my internal disgust, Benjamin's reason for redirecting me had nothing to do with the campaign topic. How could it have been? He didn't even know I was half-Elf. In fact, he barely knew my opinion on the existence of Mythicals—I'd been purposefully vague. No, he'd spotted who one of the guys handing flyers out was: Joshua Davies, my ex-boyfriend.

It was too late to turn around and walk in the opposite direction without losing face because our eyes had met. He'd smiled the instant he saw me. That habitual expression of fake pleasantness I'd grown accustomed to over the last two years soon lost its charm the second his boyish blue eyes glanced at the girl he had tucked into his side. Apparently, one of the tarts he'd cheated on me with was his shiny new girlfriend. The fact that he was prancing around campus as if he wasn't a dirty, cheating toerag really cheesed me off. I'd been so polite about our breakup, I hadn't fanned the flames of the rumours, I hadn't sullied his name because I wasn't one to make a scene, yet he had the gall to rub his indecency in my face. Despite Benjamin grabbing hold of my arm, I approached the campaign table with the aim of seeming unphased.