After collecting his belongings from the locker, he handed a fifty-shingle note over to the officer, frowning at the stench of coffee in the air.

  “What’s this?” The officer asked jollily. “A tip?”

  “It’s to pay off the fine in advance, because I'm not doing that shit.”

  “Noble shnob.” Another officer laughed, sitting at a desk near the phone on the wall. “Thinks he’s too good for community service.”

  “I’m no noble,” Okimoto laughed, “and you can keep the change.”

  He walked over to the phone, stopping when the officer sitting down suddenly raised his leg to block him.

  “That’ll be another fifty.” He said, drawing forth his gun to polish it with a handkerchief.

  Okimoto thought.

  Okimoto kissed his teeth at the officer before leaving, heading down the dingy corridor and out to the reception.

  “What police station is this?” He asked the officer there.

  “I can’t remember.” Mumbled the bellend, “Thirty shingles might jog my memory.”

  Okimoto crossed the reception and left the building, eyeing a clock on the wall that showed the eighth hour on the way out. He took in his surroundings when he came into the open air, ruined by the dank odor of the city. Birds were soaring up high, the blue sky of noon advancing from the east, washing westward the ambers of dawn. He passed over cigars and cigarettes as he descended the steps. There were tram tracks here, indicating this was one of the main streets. There was also a phone booth near a tram stop further down. Already, things were busy, people rushing past in a river of long coats and top hats.

  Having reflected on his conversation with Christopher, he realised that he had a valuable card up his sleeve: his memories. He would contact his government sponsors to arrange a meeting with him and a memory investigator, and have his memories recorded as evidence against the Orion family. He also had to do something about his blood, as there was only so much he could do to stop them from taking it. Staying vigilant wouldn’t be enough, as there were always times when he’d be vulnerable, such as in his sleep. Fortunately, there were potions for this kind of thing. Unfortunately, those potions tended to cost upwards of five hundred shingles a bottle. He didn’t have that kind of money on him, so his only option was to request financial support from his sponsors after showing them the memory recordings. This meant he’d be vulnerable for much longer than he’d like. Hopefully, it would take them some time to realise his blood was the key to maturing the caterpillars.

  The fight was far from over; simply kicking him out of school wouldn’t be enough. The ether sprite was his claim to fame, and he’d fight to the bitter end to secure his legacy. They must’ve thought this would break him, that he’d abandon his ambitions because of fear and helplessness. They were fools. His resolve had only strengthened. No longer was he a mere prodigy, but a downtrodden hero battling a conspiracy to keep him down. He wasn’t just enviable; he was inspirational now.

  He entered the crowd. At one hundred and ninety six centimeters tall, Okimoto was taller than the average Coronatian man who stood at one eight eight. He was submerged to the shoulders in people who were bobbing him around. Reaching the phone booth, he entered and slid some coins down the coin slot before dialing the number of his legal guardian.

  “Good morning, this is the East Toaddor Home for magically gifted children and young adults.”

  “Hello, Aunt Yohanna.”

  She gasped, “Okimoto, is that you? We’ve been ringing the police station all morning, and they haven’t picked up. You need to come here right now. We have a lot to discuss.”

  “Hold on, I’m still not quite sure where I am.”

  He leaned out of the booth, eyeing the sign at the tram stop.

  “I’m at Hornfeild Street Tram Stop.”

  “Crikey. That’s all the way in the west! Why’d they send you there for? It’s nowhere near the university?”

  “Let me guess, you don’t know the way?”

  “I know that Hornfeild Street is near the war museum my partner used to work at. To get back from there, I used to take the tram five to Marble Street, and from there the east-bound tram eight. That was a long time ago, and the tram routes change every year, so I’ve got no bloody clue, love.”

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  “It’s fine, I’m about to hang up. Just know that there’s more to the story than they’ve told you.”

  “There always is, darling. It’s okay, I’m not judging you.”

  “Bless you, Aunty, I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “Take care, love.”

  He hung up and crossed over the road to the tram stop.

  Tram routes twelve and nine stopped here now, according to the map by the shelter. Okimoto carefully studied the routes, his eyes trapped in the spiderweb that was this city’s public transport system.

  The tram twelve rattled to a halt beside him, and he, along with some others, ascended the steps into the carriage before handing the guard some coins.

  At Union Station, a great, bombastic statement to the world, clock tower high enough to prick a god in the ass, he bought a ticket and asked around for the train that stopped at East Toaddor junction. After being directed to platform twelve by a scrumptious female station guide with a massive bottom, he noticed something sticking out in the shadows under the train, right in the corner of his eye.

  Looking directly to where he had seen it, he saw only the tracks shaded by the train above it. When he closed his eyes, he saw ether forming the outline of someone, floating under the ballast. From the shape of it, it was a short and fat man, seemingly looking up at him.

  Okimoto’s brows furrowed.

  The figure flinched as if surprised he was noticed before darting far down to the head of the train.

  Of course, this did nothing to stop Okimoto from seeing him; it only gave away the fact that he didn’t know Okimoto could see ether.

  Things were starting to intensify. Dealing with a shadow crawler would be annoying but not impossible. He knew plenty of rituals to deal with that thing.

  After boarding the train, he held his breath and snapped his fingers once.

  The whistle rang, and the train was on its way.

  One stop later, he got off at East Toaddor junction, waiting on the platform to watch the shadow crawler that was still lurking beneath. The sun’s angle and his position at the platform’s edge, meant that his shadow connected with the train’s, giving his stalker the perfect opportunity to strike. This was what Okimoto wanted; his earlier ritual had made his body into the perfect death trap for the bastard.

  Falling for it, the shadow crawler struck and pulled him under. He pretended to suffocate and go unconscious. In truth, he did not need to breathe, as the ritual he had performed was a shapeshifting ritual that allowed him to imbue his innards with the traits of a whale.

  The shadow crawler didn’t carry him for long, quickly throwing him out onto his back. Listening carefully, Okimoto heard him shuffling his hands in his coat.

  Wasting no time, Okimoto struck, grabbing the man’s leg and turning himself bioluminescent by giving himself the properties of a firefly, shining so bright the shadows were banished from every corner. The man screamed as his skin bubbled and burned.

  This was the tragic thing about ritual-bound entities: many mages were quick to turn themselves into one, thinking it gave them some sort of advantage. But they had weaknesses. In the case of this scoundrel’s sort, that weakness was any form of light except the sun.

  Okimoto bolted to his feet and was kicked hard in his chest, the shadow crawler making a turn for the one door in this dingy space.

  staggering back and snapping his fingers three times, Okimoto shot both the ass’s feet with air bullets, halting his failing effort to open the door. The shadow crawler went down with a plop, blood spewing from his burns and wounds, boiling in the light of Okimoto’s skin.

  “Fuck!” The shadow crawler screamed. “You can’t kill me. I'm not a threat, so you'll be arrested.”

  “Is that so?” Okimoto said, kicking him onto his back, then squatting and dipping his hands through the fool’s pockets before thinking better of that and ripping his coat off him altogether. The motion stripped the man’s arms of skin, most of it clinging to the sleeves, less of it dripping on to Okimoto’s shoes.

  You could lift a planet with the strength it took for him to fight down his vomit.

  He held the jacket upside down and shook.

  Poison needles, a gun, a knife, and all other kinds of dubious utensils fell onto the floor.

  “Based on what I’m seeing, I have a solid plea for self-defense.”

  “They can pay off the police, y’know, bribe judges, ensure you get a murder charge.”

  “That’s fine, I’ll just go directly to the state instead.”

  The shadow crawler laughed. “They’ll pay them all off, trust me. The institutions of this country are rotten to the core.”

  “Well, I guess I’m screwed then, because I won’t let you or your employers get away with this. Nighty night night sweaty pie!”

  “No!”

  The shadow crawler’s skin continued to melt, dripping onto the concrete like bubbling soup. He spat at Okimoto’s face making him dart back in disgust.

  An explosion of black smoke filled the space they were in.

  Okimoto held his breath, fearing he had done so too late. He snapped his fingers three times, shapeshifting into an ant, then escaping through a crack in the wall.

  Once out, he shifted into a falcon and swooped up high, seeing the shadow crawler had merely taken him to a maintenance shed beside the railway station.

  He began to feel drowsy, the world starting to spin, the sky and ground mixing into a green, grey, pastel, and blue mess.

  He made a dive for the platform, barely dodging the catenary on the way down. Some people had caught on to the fact that a mage battle had taken place and were panicking as he neared them, shifting back into human form.

  There was a station loo nearby, and he grabbed the door handle, declaring, his words slurred, “The East Toaddor home for magically gifted children and young adults.”

  He opened the door, smelling incense and seeing the blur of her green carpet, before everything went black.