Chapter 2: Chapter two

The sound of the school bell which signified the start of yet another class rang out, the sound barely audible over the loud hum of voices which filled the room. 

Only when the door to the classroom slammed open, signifying the entrance of the teacher did the room quieten, though a few still spoke in soft whispers towards the back of the room. 

I didn’t pay the teacher any heed as I stared down at the desk I sat at, my fingers lazily tracing the initials of the humans who had each sat at this same desk and carved their mark onto the wooden surface. 

“Today we will be discussing the Nine Realms of Norse mythology, as depicted in the works of Snorri Sturluson.” 

Those words brought the end of any slither of interest in the day's history lesson. That the teacher mentioned Snorri was a clear indication of the direction this lesson on Norse mythology would take, and I was not looking forward to it. 

Propping chin on my palm, I breathed out through my nose in a huff as the teacher began filling the minds of my classmates with falsehoods about the Nine. Contrary to the speculations of modern researchers in this realm, there were only two realms, not nine. They were Manna-heim, the home of man, and Níu Heimar, home of the vættir.

In the beginning, there was no divide between the realm of humans, and the vættir. Our world had a single landmass called Yggdrasill, surrounded by the great ocean. However, that all changed when the Midgardians forsook the gods. The enraged primordial beings who forged our world flipped the kingdoms of the Midgardian race upside down, inverting the once unified land, and creating the two separate realms. The Midgardians were cut off from the magic of Níu Heimar, separated by the seas which filled the void that the inverted lands of Miðgarðr left behind. 

 As the teacher continued speaking it became obvious he did not do any in-depth research. That he would mention Helheim and not Nidavellir as one of the nine, showed he was another human who took the works of Snorri as truth. 

 The addition of Helheim had been a product of Christian influences. It wasn’t even mentioned until Snorri, and technically if it did exist it would be a part of Niflheimr, home of the Unseelie. The Slaugh, also known as wights, were lesser beings under the rule of the Unseelie, and the closest thing to living dead within Níu Heimar.

When the man who claimed himself to be an educator began speaking of the Álfar, I felt my tolerance for the lesson waning rapidly. It would be so easy to silence him, his body possessed no resistances so he would die more swiftly than the goblins. In the eyes of the humans, it would be as though the teacher suffered a sudden heart attack and died. 

I clenched my jaw, shoving away the dark desires which danced through my subconscious, and pushed to my feet. The chair scraping across the floor silenced the low hum conversation from my classmates, and the droning voice of the teacher. 

“Miss Hjorth,” Mr. Mathews scolded as he turned away from the white board to face me. He didn’t seem surprised to find me as the disruptor, this exactly the first time I protested the inaccuracies in his lessons. 

“Yet again, Mr. Mathews, I find myself reminding you that my name is Hjorth. Not Jor-th. Y-or-th!” I said, drawing out each syllable. “I would think a teacher who claims to specialize in Old Norse would know that.” Even if the surname was only to blend in amongst the humans, it was a name I had chosen, and I despised having it butchered. 

“Sit down, Miss Hjorth, I will not have you disrupting my class today.” 

I shook my head, a wry smile curling over my lips. “If you want me to sit and listen, then I suggest you properly educate yourself before you attempt educating others.” 

With those parting words, I slung my bag over my shoulder and strode out of the room. There was still another hour before classes would end for the day, so the halls were sparsely populated, allowing me to leave the school without being accosted by anyone. 

Reaching the subway station a block away from the school, I carefully navigated through the crowd, keeping an eye on the pair of guardians patrolling the station. No doubt they were looking for the Fir Darrig who often inhabited the subway, pick-pocketing wealthy humans. 

My lips twitched as I spotted their target pulling a face at the guardians backs. They had walked straight past the scraggly looking man without a second glance, as did most patrons of the city. Dressed in ragged clothing, and looking as though he hadn’t showered in months, the Fir Darrig could easily be mistaken as one of the many homeless humans who inhabited the city.

As the guardians continued down the platform, the Fir Darrig skipped away through the crowd, gleefully pocketing wallets and watches as he went, not concerned in the slightest that the guardians might catch him. It had been almost three years since he appeared in the city, and despite their best efforts, the guardians had never even come close to apprehending him. 

The subway train’s arrival sent the crowd surging forwards, the previously civil humans turning into feral beasts as they fought to gain a place on the already overcrowded train. 

 I shoved through the crowd, flaring my mægen out around me to ward off the humans. They wouldn’t be able to sense it, but instinctively the humans shied away from the chilly touch of magic as I moved to take the seat that suddenly became vacant. 

As the train began moving, I kept a watchful eye on the Fir Darrig, who was maneuvering his way through the crowd, his hands moving swiftly to relieve the subway patrons of their valuables. 

“Aftanoon Ellie,” Páidí, the Fir Darrig greeted, his muddy brown eyes locking onto the school bag I held on my lap, before drifting towards my right thigh where my dagger was concealed. 

“Try it, see what happens.” I goaded, my eyes narrowed as a look of contemplation crossed his face. 

 “Tetchy, tetchy little darkling.” 

I scowled, tugging at a strand of my blond hair. “Do I look like a darkling to you?” 

“Can’t say, can’t say.” The Fir Darrig chortled, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Haven’t really seen now have I?”

“What do you seek?” I asked through gritted teeth, wanting this interaction to be done with. 

 “Heard you ‘ad bit of a run in with some gobs.” 

“And?” I sighed, leaning my head back against the chair. 

Despite my attempts to downplay my involvement, rumors had spread throughout the enclave about the incident with the goblins, and even worse, some that included myself as the person behind their deaths. Not that anyone could prove it, or believed it to be true. If they did, I would have faced an investigation, or at the very least been re-questioned by the guardians. 

Páidí rubbed a hand over his chin. “Been a few of these incidents of late, not just ‘cause all the gobs around either. A few little nasties be popping up all over 'ere.” 

I furrowed my brows. This was the first I was hearing of such things. “What kind of nasties?” 

The Fir Darrig remained silent, rocking back, and forth on his heels as he stroked his thick red beard. 

Sighing, I unzipped my bag, digging through the contents to find a small coin purse. Fishing out a single silver coin, I tossed it towards the Fir Darrig who caught the coin with ease, holding it up to examine the engravings and crescent shaped hole in the center. 

“Well?” I prodded as the coin disappeared into the Fir Darrig’s thick beard.

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“Few like me-self ‘ave popped through. But them ain’t the issue. There be a boogie inhabiting the sewers near where you be livin’, snatching wee ones off the streets. They ain’t caught up with tha one yet, and ain’t likely too. A strong one tha one is.” 

 Lips pressed together, I thought back on what I knew of the lesser fae, Páidí spoke of. With a lanky body covered in matted fur, and long, claw tipped fingers, Boogies were predators who took great pleasure in tormenting their prey for days or even weeks before devouring them. 

Typically, one would think a lesser creature such as a Boogie wouldn’t be difficult for the enclave's guardians to capture. However, the quality of guardians in New York had been steadily declining with the current lord caring more for his social activities than the enclave's protection force. 

My fingers clenched, digging into the material of my bag. Despite residing in Manna-Hiem for the past eleven years, I felt little connection to this realm. This place wasn’t my home, it was nothing more than a place to hide until I was stronger. But even so, I couldn’t ignore the fact a Boogie was running around preying upon human children. 

“Yer a wee one ya self, so best be careful wandering round afta the great sun be restin.” Páidí said, his eyes flicking down to where my dagger was concealed. “It’ll get ya before that wee thing be of any help.” 

I inclined my head. “Your concern is noted.” 

The Fir Darrig began to respond, but a commotion at the far end of the train carriage sent him scurrying into the crowd, as the two guardians from earlier appeared shoving their way through the crowd. 

Shaking my head with a smile, I felt the train begin to slow, and watched with barely concealed amusement as the guardians were shoved out of the carriage by the flow of people disembarking the train. 

 Ten minutes later, I walked out of the subway station, and made my way to the gates of Bryant Park. 

As I entered the park, I mulled over the idea of staying there until I was supposed to be home, before dismissing the thought. Within moments of entering the park, which I often used as a shortcut to get home, a Harpy dove out of the trees to tug at my hair. The feathered bird-like creature chirped loudly as it dove past my face, performing a flashy spiral in the air in an attempt to gain a reward for its trick. 

“I do not have anything for you today.” I informed the Harpy, who hovered in front of me expectantly. A high pitched trill pierced the air at my refusal to offer treats, and the Harpy darted away into the trees. 

As it disappeared, I quickened my steps, knowing the little menace had gone to find reinforcements. 

 

Reaching the exit without being accosted by the flock of Harpies who resided in the park, I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing they were unlikely to follow me out of the park. 

When I drew closer to the townhouse I lived in with my caretaker, a prickling sensation creeped down my spine. My steps faltered, but I recovered quickly, keeping my stride even as I continued walking. Eyes focused on the path ahead of me, I did my best to appear ignorant as the unfamiliar aura swept over me. 

So long as I did not interact with them, or show any indication I sensed them in return, I would not be required to waste time on pleasantries or unpleasantries, as it often was when dealing with members of the local enclave.

Half a block away from the townhouse, my steps faltered once more at the sight of a long vehicle parallel parked on the street. Taking up two spaces, the vehicle looked as though it had driven through time from the early nineteenth century. The body of the vehicle was a tall, elongated rectangle with a gleaming black lacquered wood exterior and large skinny wheels. Unlike the cars driven on the street, this vehicle gave off a faint magical aura due to the mægen core engine that powered it. 

The engine which powered the vehicle was a creation of the Æsir, and while easy to charge, they weren’t exactly suitable for long distance travel as they used up magic energy quickly. This meant traveling over distances would require a large number of cores, as the cores within the engine needed to be swapped out for fresh ones, or directly fed the magic of the driver or even a passenger. 

Vehicles using the mægen engine didn’t have a set design. They could look like a horse drawn carriage, an open backed chariot, or even a human-made sports car, but all gave off the same magically charged aura that made it impossible to mistake it for a common carriage, or car. 

Mai had not mentioned we were expecting visitors, and those of the enclave who used those kinds of cars were not inclined to make house calls. Nor did they have Dökkálfar guards, I noted, eyeing the antlers worn by the two men who stood beside the vehicle. 

Only the Dökkálfar or Dark Elves as the humans called them, adorned themselves with antlers that resembled those of the Perytons whom the race held in high regard. There were also other factors of their appearance to consider, but the antlers were a strong indication of race. 

Unlike the Ljósálfar who worshiped Sól, with their skin rich as the earth, and hair bright as the sun, the Dökkálfar worshiped Máni and possessed skin pale as the moon, with hair dark as night. 

Both Álfar who stood outside the townhouse possessed dark hair, and skin so pale one might mistake them for a Slaugh if not for the fact they were standing in direct sunlight. While the pair’s skin looked washed out and sickly in the sun, I knew that beneath the moon’s light their porcelain skin would become luminous, giving them an ethereal appearance.

I hesitated on the sidewalk, eyes darting between the Álfar who were watching me with attentive gazes, and the door behind them. No one appeared to pay the pair any heed as they strolled past, which was an indication they were using magic to appear unseen to human eyes. 

My skin prickled into goosebumps as the same unfamiliar aura which had been following me brushed over my skin, and another Dökkálfar joined the pair standing in front of the townhouse. 

Run, or stay? Heart racing, I glanced towards the closed door, reaching out with a tendril of mægen to search for my caretaker, and any others who might be within the building. Feeling the responding tug of Mai’s mægen entwining with mine, I breathed out a sigh at the sight of the front door being pushed open by an elderly woman. She was alive, which meant either these guests didn’t know who I was, or they were allies, not enemies. 

The woman hobbled towards me, leaning heavily on a wooden cane as she played into her act of frail old lady. 

 “Ellia, sweetie, we have guests.” Mai’s words sent a chill down my spine. 

In response to her endearment, I widened my eyes, moving closer to appear as though I was helping support the old woman. 

“Are they from the enclave, grandma?” I searched Mai’s wrinkled face for signs of distress. “Is everything all alright?”

“Lady Isabel is here along with a Lord Loren from the Dökkálfar court.” Mai said her voice low, as the wrinkles on her forehead deepened. “They have come to confirm if you are of Dökkálfar heritage after hearing rumors of your fight with the goblins.” 

 Letting out a feigned gasp, I stared at the three Dökkálfar, with a frightened expression. “Why? Everyone knows those are just silly rumors spread by bored housewives.” 

“They haven’t told me, sweetie.” Mai said, patting my hand gently. “I think it is best we head in, and find out.”

I sighed, walking up the path to the townhouse alongside Mai. It appeared my peaceful days hiding away in Manna-heim were ending sooner than planned. 

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