Black Magic || Muke

Chapter 1

*2014* (8 years later)

Luke’s POV

The concept of school has always seemed quite bizarre to me.

A building constructed for the soul purpose of gathering adolescent, naïve little human beings together to teach them equations and problem solving techniques that will never be useful to them in the future.

It’s all so strange.

But what’s worse is finding myself stuck here amongst them.

It’s the pounding of people’s hearts and the terror in their eyes. It’s like a drug to me. Taking that first, miniscule taste all those years ago and I’m hooked.

But the best part about it is that they are completely clueless as to how vulnerable they really are. Hustling through the corridors, one wrong step, one wrong movement and they’re done for.

But they don’t know that. They have no idea.

It’s crucial that I remain undetected, disguised at all times, which is why I'm stuck in these lousy hallways, having to face all the stupid, petty bullshit that human teenagers face.

Everyday it’s like a fresh stab wound to the face.

I hate it here but, as always, there’s a silver lining. You see, a few of the lockers you may walk past in the crappy Richmond High corridors belong to beings that aren’t necessarily human.

The creatures that roam these hallways range from fairies to werewolves, but the humans remain absolutely clueless, which I find quite humorous to be honest.

~~~~~~~~

Currently it’s Thursday morning and I just stepped foot into the overly crowded corridor.

Freshman scurrying around to get their books and get to class as quickly as possible, while the seniors continue to refuse to go to class until the very last moment. Always cutting it fine.

After pulling and pushing my way through the herds of people, I finally reached my locker, only to be greeted by my bestfriend, Tamsin. And yes, before you ask, she knows about everything.

Because, just like me, she has the power to control voodoo.

“Hey Lukey-pooky!” she exclaimed while punching me in the arm. Hard. It’s a term of endearment when coming from her.

I roll my eyes, knowing how pointless it would be for me to argue with her about that stupid nickname, so I just refer back to the simple, “Hi Tamsin.”

“Wow, thanks for the oh-so-friendly greeting. I feel loved,” she retorts, as I finish gathering my books for my next few classes and start walking towards English.

“You’re very welcome, my dear,” I reply.

Tamsin and I are in all the same classes, which is rather odd come to think of it, but at least I’m not alone in any, as she’s my only friend.

She has light brown hair that hangs slightly below her shoulders (which she dyes red and darker browns), dark brown eyes that match her hair, a small nose that I like to ‘boop’ and a gorgeous smile.

I tend to look past her obsession over plain black leggings, and appreciate her subtle yet signature look of black combat boots, midriff tops that hang just above her belly button and a black amethyst necklace that has been passed down her family for generations. It’s said to have a secret power or force hidden within it, but it’s yet to be discovered.