Shift

ONE.2

Blaze felt like slamming his head into a wall.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered. He clenched his fists and stormed down the streets, parting the tide of New Yorkers like Moses through the Red Sea.

He had finally been given a chance to prove that he could actually do something right—a job with the Congregation no less—and he had managed to mess it up within an hour. One glance at the girl and boom—the building's windows had blown out, shattering glass all over the pedestrians and prompting an evacuation of everyone who had been inside. All because of him.

Blaze cursed under his breath. His magic had gotten out of control around girls several times before, and the incidents always followed a similar pattern: first there was an outburst of magic followed by a stream of babbling thanks to an unfortunate mix of adrenaline and magic. And then, when both of those were back under control, his mind would empty. The precise details of the incident would fade away, specific memories dissipating like smoke. It was as if his mind was trying to save him from embarrassment. The problem was that he remembered just enough of this incident to know he had spoken to a non-er; he just had no idea what he had actually said. And that could end badly.

Father's going to kill me, he thought with dread, slowing down as he reached his apartment.

It was a normal looking building by New York standards, but the entire brownstone, from foundation to roof, was heavily glamoured, laced with intricate spells meant to fool a typical passerby. If someone happened to park their car by the curb and spend their entire day staring at the building, everything would seem quite normal. They might even glimpse a number of people walking in and out, including a middle-aged Puerto Rican woman with two small children, an elderly woman with a penchant for floral dresses, and a drunkard who only came out late at night.

But only two of the apartment complex's occupants were real, and they were Blaze and his father. The rest were illusions. One of Blaze's weekly chores was ensuring that the human-like illusions were functioning properly, but he did more than simply tinker with their spell diagrams. He also spent time giving them personalities, fleshing out back-stories, and affectionately naming them like a normal person would name their cat. The hobby kept him occupied and had helped him learn to control the magic that ran through his veins.

The same magic that had very clearly gotten out of control and had caused a building to explode.

When Blaze entered the small lobby of his building, a blond secretary smiled at him from behind a desk.

"Hello, Master Blaze," she greeted courteously.

"Hello, Rita." He addressed the illusion out of habit, sidestepping around her to get to the door to his apartment. He touched the keyhole with his forefinger, and announced "Aknah." With a jolt of power, the lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing his home of seventeen years.

"Have a nice day, Master Blaze," Rita said in farewell, her conjured voice gently fading as the door automatically started to close behind him.

But all Blaze could do was grimace as he stepped over the threshold. His father was glaring at him from down the hall, his tall figure creating an imposing silhouette. Nice day? he thought nervously. We'll have to see about that.

"Come in here, Blaze." His father's voice boomed down the hallway, and Blaze winced as he walked his way over to the kitchen miserably, preparing for the inevitable lecture.

Silas Merg was an intimidating presence even to his son. Dressed in a crisp clean suit with a silver watch on his left wrist, he looked like any New York City professional. Blaze just happened to know that his father also was an extremely powerful wizard, one who obviously was not in a good mood.