I don’t like the term "black magic." No magic is inherently evil, it’s the people that use the magic, and the ways they use it. Magic is a tool. Just like a knife. A surgeon uses his knife to save lives while the assassin uses his to take them. The knife has no inherent morality attached to it. So it is with Draft. The other reason I hate the term black magic is because it’s confusing. It means one thing to someone practicing chaos magic, and something else to someone playing Final Fantasy. Additionally, Draft has a quality to it that is often described as a color (although it is sensed rather than seen.) The dark, shadowy magic that Valentine used against the Witherwraith had felt black, but not evil. And it wasn’t Draft.

The thought of plaiting Draft still made my head spin. I found myself sort of awake, lying on my back in a dark room. I cracked open one eye and the dim reading lamp across the room lanced light into my brain. Groaning, I squished my eyes shut once more. See? Dark, black, good - not evil.

"You’re awake," Valentine grunted. He always was quite brilliant when it came to the obvious. "How do you feel?"

I felt like I’d slept for a week with something dead inside my mouth. "OK," I lied. "How long have I been out?"

"About two hours. I brought you back to my place. Hope that’s OK."

"Well I never expected to wake up in your bed, especially with all that talk about how you prefer experienced girls."

"Your virtue is in tact," Valentine shrugged obviously not in the mood for our typical flirting banter. "Now tell me what you learned today."

"Never trust a prep-school boy?" I offered.

"One," Valentine shifted into lecture mode, "no matter what’s out there, monster or whatnot never let them make you believe that they are more powerful than you are. Draoithe are the big guns when it comes to magic. We are outclassed only by Angles, Demons and God. Two, that doesn’t mean you are going to win. It was a close thing today, and you almost killed yourself. Don’t ever let me see you pull a stunt like that again." he grinned, "and if you’re planning to ignore my advice, at least get a decent staff. You’ll be able to access more Draft than with a wand. You need to replace your wand anyway. It’s toast."

"Now the lecture is out of the way, thanks for saving my but. What exactly did you see out there?"

"I saw you performing some awesome shadow magic out there. Outside a circle. Teach me."

"That was shadow Draft, or Dusk. It is not for young draoi, so don’t get any ideas. Very dangerous. Very addictive. But you saw something else out there. Something about the Witherwraith?"

"I saw something in the Draft. She’s important. Connected to you. I’ve never seen so many tendrils connecting two beings. And not just to you, she’s connected to everything. I’m glad you didn’t kill her."

"Who said I didn’t?"

"You are alive. You wouldn’t be if she were dead. What’s her name?"

"She’s a monster. I didn’t ask."

"Alright, then tell me how you bound her. You took her out, but she’s still a danger until you neutralize her somehow. "

"You took her out. What you did was amazing. Although what I did was pretty impressive. I had to drag two unconscious young girls out of the park and stuff them in my car without attracting attention. As for the monster, she’s bound in an evocation triangle drawn with salt. It’s not a perfect cage, but it should hold her until we decide our next move."

"You need to teach me how to access Dusk if you want me to back you up."

"Nice try. And don’t think you’ll figure this one out on your own. Knowledge of Dusk is strictly forbidden from being written down. No book in the world will help with that research."

"Why is it considered so dangerous? What’s it like?"

"Dusk is seductive and addictive. Like any addiction it can control you rather than the other way around. A draoi addicted to Dusk could do terrible things. They are always handled the same way. Hunted and killed.

"It’s different for everyone, but usually it is like the thing you want most in the world."

"For you?"

"Isolde," he choked. Valentine sat down on the bed next to me. "Rest your eyes," he said "and I’ll tell you a story.

"My Master died bequeathing to me his Book of Whispers. Now this was some time ago, before the Diet Dismal, so draoithe were few and far between and had little contact with one another. Feeling alone I followed tales of magic south to what is now Scotland. I came upon a town preparing for some sort of monthly celebration and decided to pause and enjoy the festivities. What I soon learned was that the young girl they were decorating was not an honorary, but a sacrifice. Every month they gave a maiden to appease the appetite of a dragon. Well, it was a wyveren really, but that’s beside the point. The poor fools thought that they were saving the people of the town, but they were really just feeding the beast, and encouraging it to come back on a regular basis. Wyveren are nasty creatures, but manageable if you have the right knowledge. I drove the beast off by feeding it watercress and thyme stuffed into a dress to look like a girl. It soon flew off to look for better hunting grounds. My reward was Isolde, that month’s offering. I’m not sure the girl wanted me but she was appreciative at being alive. As for my part I was instantly taken with her beauty and spirit. We were married, or what passed for marriage in those days. I was maybe sixty, although I appeared much younger. Isolde was only sixteen. "

"What?"

"Things were different then. She was thought of as an adult. And I do believe she came to love me as I did her."

"What happened to her? This was a long time ago. Did she grow old while you stayed young?"

"She became ill," Valentine’s voice cracked. "I couldn’t save her. Not will all my knowledge and skill. Not with all my magic. We had two wonderful years together, tending a small patch of earth, laughing under the stars, playing in the rain. Isolde loved the rain, and would often cast off her dress and run out to feel it on her skin. She would dance and play for a time, then return to me for warmth. That’s how Dusk feels to me. It feels like Isolde in my arms giggling and kissing, smelling like summer rain. Her bare skin glistening with silver droplets. I’d give anything to have her back, and each time I access Dusk it feels like I do. I’m greedy for it. It’s hard to control myself. And I’ve had many years of practice."

"Your love for Isolde is beautiful," I reached out and touched his cheek. It was wet with tears though I hadn’t heard him crying. "You make it sound like an addiction, but you honor her memory by using it to give your magic power. It’s probably why you can access so much more than I can. I’ve never been with a man, never been in love."

He relaxed a little. "I never thought of it like that. I’ve always been so afraid to loose control."

"I’m not saying you shouldn’t be careful," I agreed, "but don’t make it something it’s not. We all pour our emotions into Draft. As long as it doesn’t consume you I think that it is much healthier to power yourself on memories of love than on something like anger."

Valentine nodded silently. "You’re still trying to convince me to teach you."

"Please?" I gave him my most innocent look.

"Alright. But just a little. And if you turn to the dark side I’m throwing you down a shaft."

I laughed at his joke, knowing he was half serious. Draoithe have power. Real power. Valentine cared for me, had risked his neck for mine on more than one occasion, but he wouldn’t hesitate to put me in the ground if I were to abuse magic in any way. That was the kind of hesitation that got lots of people killed.

We headed out to Valentine’s back yard for the lesson, on our way checking in on the Witherwraith. She sat in the corner of her triangular salt prison, crying softly. She wouldn’t speak to us but seemed secure.

"Dusk is the flip side of Draft." Valentine addressed me when we reached his back yard. "Like positive and negative electric currents, or north and south poles on a magnet. You can’t have one without the other. Now you can sense Draft a little bit outside a circle, but inside you have heightened awareness as well as access. Dusk is the opposite. You can sense it slightly inside a circle but better outside, where you have access. Once you learn how to access Dusk the plaits are similar. Now remember who you are. Try not lose yourself in the power or the pleasure. Always be willing to release the Dusk. Now watch what I do."

"Yes sir." Drat. Where did the sir come from? Our relationship was master/student, but one of mutual respect. He treated me as a friend and an equal even though I had much to learn. I appreciated the way he treated me, but on the rare occasions he asserted his master status something in me quickened at the authority in his voice.

I watched Valentine not with my eyes but with that part of my brain that understands magic.

Have you ever been going somewhere, driving in a car maybe and your brain just sort of switches to auto pilot? Suddenly you realize that you are almost to your destination but you don’t remember the trip, the turns or the million minor actions that kept your car on the right course. Your brain hasn’t fallen asleep, but just sort of relegated the driving to a near subconscious level.

That’s what goes on in the brains of most people. They still practice magic on a sort of autopilot. Common magic, we call it. They still sense Draft, and their minds interpret it as deja vu, hauntings, gwenders. Yeah, it’s a word. Learning High magic is like waking up that part of your brain. Turning off auto-pilot. Taking control. It’s not as easy as it sounds. It can take years to learn to consciously do something that you could do intuitively with Common magic. But I was a quick study. I watched Valentine closely.

Valentine closed his eyes in relaxed concentration. Draft danced around him in a rainbow of shades but it all began to slide away as the Dusk poured out of the Universe and into his body. It was like watching someone pour water into a glass. Not filling the glass. No the glass was already full, but full of air. The Dusk displaced the Draft around Valentine. And then it was gone as he released it again.

"That’s how you access Dusk. Not something you can really explain, but easy enough to understand. It will take some practice before you can do it, but why don’t you try?"

To access Draft, you must thrust yourself like a sword out into the Universe and pluck at the tendrils, drawing them back in toward yourself. Dusk seems rather to flow towards you on its own. You just have to make yourself a vessel to hold it. With my mind awakened to this new flavor of magic I could sense it all around me. I was a cup, and the cool shadow gathered around me. The tendrils wrapped themselves around my skin in layers of eldritch muscle. It was strange feeling the thick sinewy strength wrapped tightly around the delicate china tea cup I had to become. I felt strong, but at the same time small and vulnerable. I flexed my new muscle and thunder rumbled low in the distance. Scooping up a shard of limestone at my foot, I carefully closed my hand and squeezed. When I spread my fingers the light breeze lifted the powder that resulted. The breeze was for me alone. It played with my hair and tickled my cheeks, but touched nothing else in the yard. Valentine was right. Dusk was rapture. I turned my glowing face to him, but Valentine did not share my smile. He stood staff in hand in a circle. Tendrils of Draft extended from his hand plaited into a complex trap waiting to be sprung on some hapless mouse. Small and delicate, I was the mouse looking up into a trap that would crush a semi truck. I flushed for a moment with indignation. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and I wasn’t a foolish mouse. A thousand ways appeared to me in which I could exploit his trap. But it didn’t feel right. I had trusted Valentine for so long, and had promised him I wouldn’t abuse this new magic. I decided to accept whatever fate gave me. The cool Dusk flowed off my skin as if I had stepped from the shower into a warm evening. My clothes rustled almost violently at its parting, and I was glad I wasn’t wearing a skirt. The trap was all around me, so I simply knelt.

"I’m sorry I disappointed you Valentine." What had I done? "Please be quick, it wasn’t on purpose. I’m not even sure what I did. Just please make it quick and painless."

Heartbeat. Two. Three. Why was he making me wait? Eight. Nine. I brushed a tear free from my nose. Fourteen. Fifteen.

"What just happened?" Valentine asked as the trap evaporated without springing. "How did you do that?"

"The Dusk? That was easy. You’re a good teacher."

"No one accesses Dusk on the first try. And no one releases it that easily ever. You handled it so well. I thought you were going to keep on filling yourself with Dusk until, until I killed you. What was it like for you?"

"You pegged it," I breathed. "a girl, young and wet with summer rain. Only I felt like the girl in the rain. It was so peaceful."

"No more Dillon. I don’t want you experimenting without me."

"Fine," I rolled my eyes. "But that’s the least of our worries now. What are we going to do about little miss gothic Barbie back there. We can’t just leave her in the evocation triangle forever."

"If we’re going to keep her alive she needs to feed. I’m just not comfortable about that."

"Oh relax Valentine. Take her to a good horror flick. She feeds off fear. It will be like an all you can eat buffet." I shrugged. "just because she is an Otherworldly creature of darkness doesn’t mean she has to torture little children. She doesn’t need to be evil."

"You’re kidding right? A Witherwraith? Not being evil?"

"What’s the difference between a demon and an angel? Choice. That’s all. Give her a chance to choose something else, something better." We walked back inside and stood where we could watch our prisoner. "Do you still have that charm?"

Valentine handed over the small wooden disk. Lifting to my face I activated it with a small thread of Faith, and looked at the Witherwraith. She was still bound tightly to Valentine with tendrils of Draft, why I could not say, but her ties to her beholden were gone. The evil that she had been doing with them was cut off, and with it her decaying nature was lessened. Gone were the broken teeth, and the boiling tar-pit skin. She was still dark, sleek and powerful. Mostly, though she looked broken and alone. I handed the piece to Valentine.

"My name is Dillon," I cautiously approached the evocation triangle. "What should I call you?"

"Éan," the creature rasped. Her voice was sweet, but she had been crying for some time. "The others call me Éan."

"That’s a pretty name," I threw a look back at Valentine, "it means bird I think. Unusual for a creature of darkness and death."

"Are you going to hurt me?"

"It’s not really our plan. But we do have to figure out what to do with you. We can’t exactly let you run around the countryside getting high schoolers hooked on dangerous magic now can we."

"Well I could go back to lurking under beds and behind closet doors," she lashed out, "children are always good for an easy meal. They’re frightened as soon as the lights go out. With little ones the fear is always sharp and fresh. Primal. It’s delicious, but you feel like a monster. At least with the high schoolers I was reducing their fear rather than perpetuating it."

"You are a monster."

"Valentine! Give her a chance."

"Fine. Have you ever been to the movies Witherwraith?"

"Her name is Éan."

Valentine sighed. "Have you ever been to the movies ÉAN?"

The girl shook her head no as I checked my iPhone for show times. "All right, then. Éan, if you can promise to behave yourself Valentine here is going to take you out to see ’Hungry Dead III - You are what eats you.’ Valentine, keep her on a leash, but be nice. Pretend you’re on a date."

"He’ll kill me," Éan whispered. "He thinks I’m a monster."

I opened the evocation triangle and stepped toward the Witherwraith. She cowered away but I reached out a comforting hand to stroke her hair. "Let’s face it Éan, he’s got some pretty good reasons. But he’s not going to kill you and you’re not going to kill him. The two of you are far too connected in the Draft. I don’t think either of you could survive the other’s death. Don’t think you can run though - or attack someone else. You’ll be in public. Neither of you want to deal with the fallout from a public magic duel. Beside, I’m the one who put you down Éan. If I hear that either one of you behaved poorly, you’ll regret it."

"She can deliver," Valentine agreed. "so while I do think you’re a monster, I’ll try. Dillon, I haven’t courted a girl in -- I don’t know if I’ve ever courted a girl. Isolde was given to me, and I’ve been with a few women since then but mostly craft-kittens."

"Craft-kittens?" I asked.

"You know, girls who have a thing for draoi. Anyway, I wouldn’t know what to do on a date."

"Open the door for her, hold her hand, buy her a diet soda and popcorn with extra butter. Try to call her by name instead of referring to her as a monster. Pretend you like her."

"And we’re sure that feeding her is the best plan?"

"Teaching her to feed without hurting anyone? It sounds like a good plan to me. Beside, you were the one who said we needed to feed her to keep her alive."

"And why aren’t you taking me Dillon?" Éan asked.

"Because we don’t have some weird mystical connection to figure out."

She nodded. "I guess that makes sense. I like you though. I don’t like him."

"You have to pretend to be nice on the date too. Have you ever been on a date?"

"No," Éan shook her head. "not one that ended well," she amended. "At least not one that ended well for my date." she added with a wicked smile.

"This one ends well for everyone. Or else. Now have fun and don’t kill each other." I smiled. "I’m off. Apparently I have a wand to replace."

"Get a staff." Valentine suggested. "I know you like ash, but consider aspen. It’s got some nice qualities for accessing Draft."

"Oak would suit her better. Pin-oak if she can get it. Aspen is much too soft for her personality." Éan argued.

"Are you kidding? Pin-oak? She could burn herself out before she realized how much Draft she was actually accessing."

"You don’t need to protect her. I saw her in action. She could handle an oaken staff. But maybe you’d prefer her with a buffer. Sure, aspen would work for that. You might as well suggest poplar."

I closed Valentine’s front door behind me as I left, but I could still hear them arguing as I walked down the sidewalk.

Next Chapter: Chapter 4